Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 548) (1888 01 24)
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SECOND EDITION. SS = pe ———————————eeee eee SAAS | (| i iui fl! Sieve MPR a AR Vai aac ast UT Ay a iat! | | mtn! Lot nt) Ya! LL ri | Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1888, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, January 24, 1888, PUBLISHEI TEEKLY BY BEADLE AN 3 ice, Vol. pear: Big int PUBLIS ) WEEK B ADLE AND ADAMS, EP nae No. 548. No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. RR a ee a Re ne eS ee ee ane a THE MYSTERY AT SPRINGSIDE BY J.C. COWDRICK, AUTHOR OF ** THE ENGINEER DETECTIVE,” *' RED- LIGHT RALPH,” “‘ BROADWAY BILLY.” ‘ cr- BUTA JOHN,” ‘' DISCO DAN,” *‘ RAINBOW ROB,” ‘“*‘ KENTUCKY JEAN,” ETC. CHAPTER I. A FRIGHTFUL CATCH. “‘ ALL aboard!” Corductor Weston sung out, and he gave his pretty, nickel-plated lantern a skillful overhand swing, signaling the engineer to go ahead. “Tet ’er 6° Gallagher!” another voice ex- claimed, and a lad with a mail-bag on his shoulder came tearing around the corner of the station and across the platform. THE NEXT INSTANT THE AGENT SWUNG THE CRANE D@WN, AND PULLED INTO THE CAR—NOT A MAIL-BAG, BUT THN CORPSE OF A MAN}
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2 Mart d ? “You came mighty near getting left this time, Mart,” the conductor remarked, swinging himself upon the step of the forward car of the already-moving train, ‘* It’s all th’ same as long as I didn’t, though,” the lad retorted, as he flung the mail-bag into the open door of the mail-car; *‘an’ I reckon that. old watch o’ yourn must be two or three seconds fast, more or less, anyhow; ain't it?” By the time he had finished speaking the boy had swung himself aboard, the same as the con- ductor had done, and the train rolled out from the station. ‘“No, sir!” the conductor responded, in a | cheery way; “‘my watch is just right toa tick. But, where are you going?” he inquired. ‘Oh! I thought I'd take ¢ ride down ter Cliffton along o’ my friend Henry,” ‘‘ Have you a ticket?” ‘‘ Chestnuts!” the lad exclaimed, in response, and with a merry laugh he entered the car and made his way io the mail-room. This lad was Martin Hardy, better known as ** Mail-boy Mart.” He was anout seventeen years of age, of good build, and had a frank, , the Night Express Detective, aie —————— Turning from his work for a second, he opened the door. A stranger slipped quickly into the little compartment, shutting the door behind him, He was a well-dressed man, with a full, black beard, and was about thirty-five years old, ap- | parently. ‘* Are you the mail-agent?” he ‘nquired, ad- dressing Preptior. ‘* Yes, sir,” the agent answered briefly. ‘* Allow me 2 moment of y ur time, then, if | you please,” the stranger went on. ‘‘ I believe this train does not stop até Springside, does it?” ‘* No, sir, if does not, But, the conductor will give you whatever information you want,” ** Yes, but it is you I want to see,” the man | insisted. ‘‘ You exchange mail-bags at Spring- | side, on the fly, do you not?” | ‘* T do, sir.” ‘* Have you yet sorted the Springside mail?” | ** T am about done now,” | Good! Did you notice a letter addressed tu / M. Henry Paul, Springside?” | ‘*To*M. Henry Paul?” the agent repeated; | ‘* ves, I did notice such a name, I believe.” “Well,” explained the stranger, ‘‘ that is my honest face and a pair of bright eyes that were | name, [ have been stopping all the summer full of wide-awake spirit and gleaming with | at Springside. intelligence. He was employed by the railroad company to carry the mail between the station and the post-office, at Mapleton, and during the two years that he had served in that capacity he had never once missed making connection with a train. Mart was a favorite with all who knew him, and especially with Henry Prentiss, the mail- agent on the Night Express. Mart bad a younger brother, Tommy, whom he sometimes engaged to carry the mail-bag from the station to the office, and on such occa- sions Mart would get aboard the train and ride down to Cliffton, the terminus of the road, re- turning on the same train when it came back, along in the late hours; and as it was nearly a hundred miles from Mapleton to Cliffton, 1t was quite a long ride, When he entered the mail-room, on this occa- sion, he exclaimed: “Hello! Mr. Prentiss; how are ye?” ‘* Ab, Mart, my boy!” the jolly agent respond- ed; ‘“‘going down with me again, are you? Well, you’re welcome, and Ill make a route- agent of you one of these days.” ‘* You can’t please me better, nohow you can fix it,” declared the boy. ‘‘I’d just like to be one of Uncle Sam’s boys, an’ ride in a snug little mail-room like this, I’m willin’ ter learn th’ biz, you bet!” *“You are one of Uncle Sam’s boys, are you not?” the agent demanded. " ‘‘What! just to yank th’ mail-bag from th’ train to th’ post-office an’ from th’ post-office to ther train? A heap of honor there is in that.” ‘ Well, but that is a beginning, von know.” ‘Yes, it’s a beginnin’, and that’s all it is, too. If my pay was any smaller, I’d soon find myself in debt to the Government sure.” Agent Prentiss laughed. ‘*No matter,” he said, ‘‘ you had to creep be- fore you could walk, and who ws but some day you will be postmaster-general? Stranger things have happened.” : ‘* Not very much stranger, though, I guess.” ‘*By the way, who took the bag up to the office to-night?” the agent inquired. — ‘“My brother, Tommy,” Mart answered, **Don’t you know it is wrong for you, a sworn carrier, to let the mail go out of your hands?” ‘**Oh, Tommy an’ me is one, an’ I don’t know but he’s th’ better of th’ two. S’pose it ain’t wrong fer you ter let me ride in th’ mail-room an’ help sort mail, is it?” ; The agent smiled. “Tt isn’t just according to Hoyle,” he an- swered, ‘‘ but then, ’m here to keep my eye upon you.. Come, now, get up here and sort out these newspapers, and so ear. your passage. Don’t you make a mistake, either, or 1’ll boot ‘ Same old chestnut,” said Mart, as he set to work, ‘‘ Ill trust myself as soon as anybody I know of.” - In the mean time the train had gained in speed each moment, and it was now plunging abead through the darkness at a high rate, leav- ing the town of Mapleton far behind. Prentiss and the boy talkei on as they worked, the agent seeing to it that Mart did not forget to work while he talked; and they were busy at both when there came a nervous rap at the mail-room door. ‘Hello! who can that be?’ the agent ex- claimed, ‘ It is not Weston or any of the train- men, that is certain.” ride in this room, I must request you. to go out.” | By the way, is that letter a large one?” ‘* Yes, quite large, sir. these questions?” “T will tell you. Zam M. Henry Paul, as I said, and as this train does not stop at Spring- side, of course I cannot g-t off there. That let- ter, though, is of the greatest importance to me, ec if you will kindly deliver it to me, I shall a, But, why do you ask ‘*Can’t do it, sir,” said Prentiss, firmly. “Why not?” “Tt is against the rules,” “T will give you ten dollars for that letter, my man, and—” ‘Impossible, sir; it cannot be done. I do not know you, and even if I did I would not do ‘*T will give you fifty dollars—a hundred— for the letter.” ‘No use, sir; you cannot have it at any price.” ‘You may suspect that I am a contemptible spy, and that I am trying to trap you. Let pel “Ay you that Iam nothing of the sort, and—” . “No matter, sir, no matter,” interrupted Prentiss, as he opened the door; ‘‘and as it is strictly against the rules for any passenger to “Very well, I will go. I suppose this boy is not o passenger, since he is allowed in here.” ** No, he is not; he is a sworn carrier.” **Oh! he is all right, then. will give you two hundred—” ** Not ancther word, sir. Go!” The agent’s manner showed that he meant * business ” now, and the man retreated. ** Well, that yanks th’ loaf!” exclaimed Mail- boy Mart. ‘* What d’yc thinko’ sich a customer as that, Prenty?” “He is a fraud, a fraud of the first water,” the agent declared, ‘‘He is up to some sort of crooked work, that is certain.” “Don’t ye think mebby he is a Government spotter?” “Not he. If he was he would never have mentioned it. He might know I would be on the lookout then, if not before, No, he is a fraud, I believe, though it is barely possible that ho is honest, and that the letter is of great importance to him. Itis no business of mine, though, one way or the other.” While speaking thus, the agent was feeling into one of the bags that hung in a row along the side of the little room near his sorting- table, Presently he drew forth a large, white en- velope, well-filled and securel sealed, “This is the letter,” be said, as he looked at it. Yi Quite « fat one, too,” observed Mart. “Yes,” Prentiss agreed; ‘no doubt it con- tains legal documents of some kind, for it is marked ‘ From Higgins & Bondwell, New York.’ They are the great criminal lawyers, you know.” ‘*No, I don’t know, Prenty, but I’ word for it,” ‘You couldn’t take anything better, I assure you. And now, see here; I want you to remem- ber that.{ showed this letter to you, after the man tried to bribe me; that I put it back into the Springside bag, so; and that I locked the ng up at once, so.” uiting actions to the words, the letter was = pack into the bag from which it had been ken, and the bag was immediately locked. Say, though, I take yer ‘“ Allright,” said Mart; ‘I guess I can re member that.” i “Of course you can. No knowing what may come of this, and, after you have seen, 1 want you to know just what I have done with the let- ter. : ‘* We must be most to Springside now; ain't we?” Mart queried. ee “Yes, 1 guess— Ah! there’s the whistle now, Out of the way and let me get to the door.” Throwing open the side door of bis httle room, Prentiss put the mail-bag in the right position to push off at the right moment, and then grasp- ed the handle of the ‘‘ crane” to be ready to swing out its iron arm to catch the exchange- bag. On sped the train, and in a moment more the little station was at hand, With a quick motion the agent pushed off the bag he had to deliver, and then with both hands swung out the crane to catch the ne he was to receive. A moment passed, and then came a shock that almost tore the crane from its fastenings. The next instant the agent swung the crane down, snd pulled into the car—not a mail-bag, but the corpse of a man! CHAPTER IL, IT IS A MYSTERY. ‘*Goop Heavens!” cried Mail-boy Mart, as, filled with horror, be sprung away from the dread object. “My !” exclaimed the agent, ‘‘ this is hor- rible!” ; ‘* Who is it? asked Mart; “do you know him?” ‘* Yes, it is Old Roger, the mail-carrier,” the agent answered, as he wiped the beads of per- spiration from his forehead. At that instant there was a slight noise over- ad ead. Prentiss and Mart both glanced up, and they saw that the bell-rope bad been pulled and was just being released, reecaage'd followed a ‘‘toot” of the engine’s whistle, then the car began to jolt and jar as the brakes were put on, and soon tke train was at : ; namoment the trainmen were out to learn the cause, and Mail-boy Mart was about th first, being only too glad to get out of the mail- room and away from the corpse of the old carrier. He had not waited 'to go through the car to the end door, but, after a quick glance to assure himself that he would land upon terra firma, had sprung out from the door of the mail-room, As he did so be was just in time to see a man climb over a near-by fence and make off in the darkness. The glimpse he got was but momentary, but it was sufficient for him to recognize the man as one whom be had seen before, It was the man who had tried, only a short while previeeen) to bribe the mail-agent to de- liver a letter to bim! ‘That’s th’ feller that pulled the string, an’ I'll bet ten years’ wages on it,” the boy mut- tered. ‘: What’s that you say?’ demanded Prentiss. as he thrust his head cut the door, Mart repeated it. ** but, whom did you see? “Heavy!” cried Mart; “why anything less wouldn’t be no bet at all! a as ter whol seen— wanted ye ter give him that fat letter?” ‘*-You don’t say!” ‘** Well, [reckon I do, then; an’, say, Prenty, I’m goin’ ter stay here an’ walk back to Spring- side,” “€ You are?” “Yes; an’ you leave word from me at Maple- ton, when ye go back there. 1er Tommy to ca th’? mail till T tura up. I’m goin’ ter ins things round here, youtet! Just call ine your Night Express Detective from this very hour,” * All right, Pll do so:_but you are crazy to—” They were interrupted. Their exchange of words had occupied but a few brief seconds, and the conducto now came running up from the rear end of the train de Mandi $ & Whe pulled that cord?” ““Didn’t you?” called out the engineer, who had got down to see what was 2oing on. It was an unusual thing for the Night Express to be stopped by bell anywhere between sta- tion “ce f'd like to know who did. We were bebind “ et heavily,” Prentiss commented | Who d’ye s’pose?—but that feller that S. No!” retorted the conductor, ‘‘I didn’t, and 17 j } { } net A tee ae eS na
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PE eee ee = a : — _ - — ee ni ‘ oe Mart , the Night Express Detective. IRAE Ei EO RN it ced AA Dt SE AS —— time as it was, and this will put us back still turcher.” * Hey, Weston!” the mail-agent called out; “Mart, here, says he saw a man climb over the fence and rui away across the field. It must bave been he whe pulled the cord. But here is something worse than lost time; here is a mur- der !” “So I think. Heis a sharp lad, though, and he may be able to learn something that will give the detectives a clew.” ‘** Perhaps,” ‘“ Well, come, we must get the body out of here, for if 1 donot gc on with my work some station will not get any mail to-night. Like Although the station was closed, the plat- form lamp had been left burning for the con- venience of any passenger who might get off lata trains, and that light, as stated, was the nearest. The town of Springside was about half a mile away from the station, as is the case in a great many instances, especially or the a ! time and tide the U. S. Mail waits for no man.” | larger railroads, the distance varying, of > * A what ?” ‘* All right, catch hold.” course; and th. other lights were fully a mile P ‘* A murder! When I put out the crane at The body was lifted up and carried out to the | away. Springside to catch the mail-bag, [ caught a dead man instead. It is Old Roger, the car- rier.” domain of the baggage-master, and the mail- agent resumed his work. In the world of business, the living cannot There were no houses near the station, and it was about as lonesome a spot, at night -as can well be imagined, i* i: The stopping of the train was forgotten in- | st: 4 long to mourn for the dead. Mail-boy Mart was, strictly speaking, no stantly, and all gathered around the door of the When the train arrived at Crawford’s, and | coward, and he trudged along manfully. i mail-car, the crime was made known, there was a great ‘“This here,” he mused, ‘is just about the } ““ My God!” exclaimed Weston, ‘‘ you do not | excitement. strangest bit of queerness that I ever heard of. ‘ mean it, surely?” Crawford’s was the county seat, and the body | It isa mystery, sure as can be, What I want “It 1s only too true,” Prentiss insisted. ‘‘The | was left there to be taken in chars oy. the | to find out now is who killed Old Roger, an’ old man’s hands are tied behind him, and there | proper officials; and, after Conductor; Weston | what they killed him for. Kin Ido it? That \e isa rope around his neck, It isa clear case of | had made a report of the case to the superin- | remains to be seen later on, One thing is sure, brutai murder.” tendent of the road, the train sped on its way. though, an’ that one thing is just this: If there ] ‘* By the Old Harry!” exclaimed the engineer The case was taken up by the county autbori- | is somebody goin’ round killin’ mail carriers, I j Tom Burgess, ‘‘no wonder I was startled. I | ties immediately. want tospov him. I’m a carrier myself, an’ J : thought if was a man instead of a mes, Crawford's was quite a little city in its way, | ain’t got no desire to be hung up on a mail- f hanging on the stand, when the headlight fell | and could boast of its quota of detective talent, | stand to be raked in by a mile-a-minute train; upor it, but it was out of sight so quickly that I | so the case did not lack for that very essential | good gracious, no ” % wasn’t sure.” article, “Tt was not a pleasing pr t, certainly, ‘ ‘‘Well, it was a man,” declared Prentiss, The coroner viewed the body at the station, | and no wonder the boy felf a chill creep up his *‘ and here is the body. Poor Old Roger!” and then gave permission for its removal. back at the thought of it. The conductor, the engineer, and the other It was taken at once to an undertaker’s shop, He pressed onward ata rapid pace, and ere trainmen, hastened into the car, where they | and there the detective whom the coroner had | long arrived at the station. Ae did not, though, quickly realized the awiul truth. appointed to investigate the matter began his | advance upon the platform, but stopped at a ‘“‘ By the Great Harry! but this is a heinous | work, little distance away. piece of work!” cried Tom Burgess. “‘It is a He viewed the hose. ‘‘ Now,” he mused, ‘‘how am I to go abead wonder the shock did not jerk the body in two.” There was the mark of the rope around the | with this little game? I don’t want to run right *¢ Are you sure he is dead?” asked Weston, neck, and also marks where it had been caught | up an’ put my foot right in it—good gracious, “Oh! he is certainly dead!” declared the | so violently by the mail-crane. The back was | no! "Fer that reason I must be careful. No mail-agent. ‘If be had been alive when I | broken, and also the limbs in several places, all | knowin’ but them fellers that killed Old Roger caught him, the shock would have killed him,” | owing to the sudden contact with the car, uc | is around here yet, an’ I mustn’t make myself ‘“No doubt you are right. Now, what is to | doubt. too cornspeckerous. It might not be good fer be done? How far are we from Springside?” No knife or bullet-wound could be found, but | my health. I guess I’d better keep out of th’ “ Almost half a mile,” answered Burgess. close examination disclosed a bruise on the head, | shine of that platform-lamp, so T’}] jist leave th’ ' “Then we can’t flag back there, that is cer- | made, probably, by some blunt weapon used to | track an’ go round ’hind th’ station, an’ so on : tain. The Express Freight is tearing along be- | knock the old man senseless, but against which | up to th’ mail-stand.” : hind us, and will pass Springside in a few min- | his hat had furnished some protection. This wasa sensible course for him to pursue. EE utes. Cal! the flagman, Burgess, and go on to Another curious thing was the fact that the | He would not be so likely to be seen. & Crawford's.” 2 old man bad not beer. robbed. A silver watch, Leaving the track, he sprung up the low bank { + ‘All right;’responded the engineer, and he | which was crushed almost out of shape by the | on the side the station was on, advanced to a os hurried out to bi. place upon the engine. violent contact with the mail-crane, and also a| fence, and then climbed into an adjacent i Four blasts of the whistle were quickly sound- | pocketbook, with quite a sum of money, were | field : . = YR SOR STS ed, the flagman soon gave the signal to go ahead, and the train started on. The conductor remained in the mail-room with th. agent. * What do you think about this case, any- how, Prentiss?” he inquired, “Tt don’t know what to think about it,” the agent replied, ‘‘It is a mystery, The only clear thing about it is that it is a case of murder. ‘lhe fact that the man’s hands are tied proves that.” “Yes, you are right there; but, who can have done it? and for what reason?” ‘There you have me. I only wish I could teli you. The old mar was liked by everybody, an¢ bad not an enemy in the world so far as I know, There is fupuy work afoot to-night, be- sides this case, though I cannot see how the othe: matter can have anything to do with the murder.” “What do you mean?” “T will tell you. Just before we got to Springside a man came into the mail-room and tried to bribe me to give him a letter addressed to one M. Henry Paul, at Springside. He said he was the person the letter was fcr, and as he found in his pockets. Clearly no robbery had been intended, unless it was to rob him of the mail-bag. If that was the case, ae need his assailants have gone so far as to kill him? ; It was a mystery. The station at Springside was not kept open at night, so nothing could be learned by tele- graph, and Jacob Raybold—such was the detec- tive’s name, took tbe first train that came along and went to the scene of the crime, Altogether, it was a mysterious affair. Was there any connection between the mur- der and the fact that a stranger had tried to bribe the mail-agent to deliver a letter? It did not seem that there could be. But, what of the man who had offered the bribe, and what of tne stopping of the train soon after it had passed Springside? Jacob Raybold, the detective, had only the main fact—the fact of the crime—to work upon. He had learned nothing of the mysterious stran- ger who had stopped the train, or of the “‘im- portant” letter in the mail that he hac been so anxious to get hold of. Once over the fence he moved silently forward, and was soon behind the station, The station stood back several feet into the field, and the fence had been built around it. Between the building and the fence was a space four or five feet wide, which, directly be- hind the station, was filled up with old boxes and barrels. The platform of the station ran very nearly all around, but on the rear side it was not more that three feet wide, In the middle of the nar- row rear platform were two flights of stairs, one leading to a loft over the station-room, and the other to a sort of cellar underneath. When Mail-boy Mart came directly behind the station, he thought he heard voices. He stopped instantly and listened. There was no mistaking it, and the voices, very low in tone, seemed to come from imme- diately under the station. In point of fact, the speakers were two men who were seated at the bottom of the steps that led down to the cellar—or, as it more properly was—the coal-hole, Mail-boy Mart sunk down to the ground, silently, and crept to the fence. could not get off, and_the letter being impor- It was too dark, there in the shadow of the tant, he wanted it. He offered me a bu CHAPTER III. station, for him to see much, but he could make dollars for it, 4 MART IN A MESS. out the line of the narrow platform, the stairs, “ Ts that so?” “ It is. ” “Then it shows fraud by on the face of it. Why. did he not get off at Mapleton and hire a conveyance tc bring him to Springside?” “Right; or why not hire you to let him off there?” ‘Sure enough; or, pull the cord and wie Hello: ne deubt it was he who did pull bell- ope.” ‘*T believe it was.” * Why?” ‘* Because he is the man whom Mail-boy Mart saw getting over the fence,” “That settles it, The fellow, be he honest man or rascal, is bound to have that letter to- night. But, where is Mart now?” ‘Oh! I forgot te tell you; he got off when we La ay oad mee going Tack to me io e y jive. suppose he is tru rere the station on? “_—e “ Well, 3 oe ote, | = I fear he has ne on a fool’e errand. wi uire an older tes than his to hunt the murderec down,” In the mean time, what of Mail-boy Mart? When the train went on, leaving him alone in the darkness, he turned and started back to- word the Springside station. From where the train had stopped, to the station, was quite a walk, being not far from half a mile, at least; for, going at such speed, the train had covered a great deal of ground between the time when the mail-crane caught the body of the old carrier and the time when the bell-cord was pulled, short as the interval as. And it was not very pleasant walking either. The ties were uneven, and not at ar dis- tances apart in all cases, and while they were too close together to admit of stepping on each one with ease, they were too far apart to allow the pedestrian to step upon every other one with anything like comfort. The night being quite dark, too, the boy could see nothing beyond a dozen yards or so away in any direction, except the single light at the station and some other further away in the direction of the town. and the pile of boxes and barrels. He could not, though, see the two men. Down where they sat all was inky darkness. Besides, the boxes and barrels were in the way. The boy listened intently, but at first he not catch a word. Presently the men pitched their voices a little er. “Ha, ha, ha!” one laughed, ‘ he did look com- ical, Bob, didn’t he!” not interrogatively. “Bob” chuckled fora moment and then re- ponded, ‘+ He did, Hank, for a fact.” “There he hung,” the first speaker went on, “as stiff an’ still as a mummy from tb’ land 0° Yejup. Then along kem that ‘ar mail-ketcher, reached out its arm and doubled bim up like a peck-kuite, an’ then pulled bim in like a school- oy ketchin’ flies. Ha, ha, ba! if he wasn’t quite dead yet, it must ha’ ed his soul out Bahtaiiny quick. [ll bet it broke every bone in s body. om aed Mart’s hair, for the moment, stood on end.
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Mart, the Night Express Detective. Here he was, within a dozen feet of the very men who had done the horrible deed of blood, It was enough to have quickened the pulse of a veteran detective, The boy quickly made up his mind to two things. e must, if possible, learn the names of these men, and at all risks be must shadow them until he could get a look at their faces, He listened intently to catch every word he could, ‘““He was dead enough afore, though,” re- marked he called Bob. ‘“*Oh, yes, he was dead, sure! He’d been hangin’ there long enough ter kill two men.” “* Didn’t he fight bard, though?” ** You're right he did. When I tapped him with th’ billy, though, he caved.” “Well, I should say he did. You don’t hit i when you play th’ joker, you don’t, Ha, a! > * An’ then you hit onto th’ idea o’ puttin’ him onto that mail-bag jigger. Id ruther tickled him with a knife an’ left him right there; but, ae said, blood is purty apt ter git onter a feller when he sticks a pig, an’ blood ain’t good ter carry round on yer clothes, Besides, there was heaps more’ o’ fun your way.” ** Well, rawthur. ut what is ter be our next move?” “*Hang me if I rightly know. It won’t do to hang round here long, fer when Old Mail- i Ha, ha, ha! what a name!” ‘¢_ When he don’t show up at th’ town after a reasonable time, somebody ’ll come down ter look fer him, more’n likely, an’ we want ter be scarce ’round here by that time. Whatewe want most is ter git back to New York.” Their tones were a little lower agaiu, and Mail-boy Mart stretched his ear—as the saying is—to the utmost to catch every word. Grasping the fence firmly, he slowly and silently raised himself up a little. The fence was one of the old-fashioned ** worm-fence” kind. It must be kept in mind that this little station was right in the midst of fields and farms—as it were, with no house near. Having raised himself upon his knees, the boy put his head and shoulders between the rails of the fence and leaned forward as far as he could with safety. He was careful not to make any noise, and felt sure that the men he was listening to could see no better in the dark than he could, ‘“ Have ye got that’ar time-table?” were the next words he caught. ‘Yes, Bob, I’ve got it,” was the reply, “ but it ain’t o’ much use in this here darkness, Why, what of it? I hope ye don’t ’spose I’m crazy enough ter stay round here ter git a train, do e ‘No, in course not; but I was jest a-thinkin’ that we could see how far it is to th’ next sta- tion, an’ walk there. Then we could lay low there till a freight comes along, an’ board that,” “Tt hain’t safe ter fool round th’ railroad, no way xo Ss fix it.” “T know it ain’t here, but if we, git away from here soon’s we kin, an’ git ontoa train at some other station, who kin say we had a hand in th’ job?” ‘* That’s all right, but how be we ter see th’ time-table?” “ve got matches.” ** An’ would ye resk it ter light one here?” ‘Yes, Yesee, we're down here in a sort o’ hole, an’ no one kin see us unless he’s right close * And some one may be.” ‘oT ain’t likely, or we'd ’a’ heard ’em.” “ Well, strike a match, then; but shade th’ glim a little with yer hat. If any other feller comes pokin’ his nose ‘round, we sarve him same as we did Old ae “You kin bet we will. Old Mail-bags woulJ- n’t got hurt if be hadn’t went to pokin’ his nose inter our business. Thet other job would ’a’ went off prime only fer him.” “To be sure it would. It is all done, though, an’ th’ witness has been taken keer of. We sent him to Kingdom Come,” * An’ sent bim by mail, too!” “Ha, ha, ha!” The one called Bob now struck a match, and Hank drew a time-table from bis pocket and opened it. Between two of the empty barrels, Mail-boy Mart caught sight of two of the most villainous faces he had ever seen. He drew back with a shudder, but instantly leaned forward being anxious to cate oo word and feeling sure that he would not seen. », ae A fe th ee A x bapa ee PSAs aa at : ; : ROS oe ee ey +b an AE a Sarees ? - ~ — F, ee ie. = Two or three matches were burned, and then Hank signified that he was done and folded the time-table up. ‘* Well,” queried Bob, as he extinguished the last match, *‘ what is it?” **T can’t make much head or tail out of it,” Hank confessed; ‘‘ but [ velieve there isa freight comes along here about midnight. An’, as near as I kin figger it out, th’ next nearest station to’rds New York is ’bout seven miles away.” ‘“*Then we'd better make a start fer that sta- tion, fer it must be after ten o’clock.” ** Yes, we'll be goin’. What be we ter do wi’ these two mail-Lags, though?” ‘* Have ye got ’em both?” "Yes; th’ one they throwed off th’ train al- most knorked me down where I was a-standin’, an’ I fetched it along. We must git rid of ’em, fer they ain’t safe fer us ter handle, Shall we pitch ‘em inter thet old well?” Their t nes were quite low again, and in his anxiety to hear, Mail-boy Mart leaned a little further forward. Suddenly there wasacrash. The rail he was leaning on gave way without warning, and he dived forward into the boxes and barrels, forc- ing them down into the hole upon the heads of the two men, CHAPTER IV. A HORRIBLE FATE, THE crash was asudden and bere one and the two murderers were no less frig tened than was Mail-boy Mart. The rail of ‘the fence was rotten, and when it gave way it was without any warning, There was a crash, and the mischief was done, As soon as Mart felt himself going he made desperate grabs to get hold of something to save him from falling down where the two villains were. But, he could get hold of nothing any more substantial than the empty boxes and barrels, and they, having been piled up anyhow, tum- bled over as soon as he touched th: m., Crash! bang! bump! and down he went. At the very first sound, both of the two mur- derers attempted to spring up, but before they could do so the boxes and barrels, and the boy, too, were upon them. “Thunder ’n’ lightnin’!” exclaimed Bob, ‘* what ’n blazes has broke loose?” ; ‘*Ther’s somébody bheur,” declared Hank, ‘an he’s knocked down these boxes, Dastit! I be- lieve every tooth is knocked out o’ my bead!” ‘*An’ my head is’most broke,” complained b, It was all over, and the two rascals began to struggle to get out from under the pile. Mail-boy art was now standing, head down, in one of the barrels. He dared not move, for fear of being discov- ered, and his position was anything but com- fortable, He was in a delicate dilemma. A moment passed, “Say, Hank,” viilain Bob then said, “ these here things must ha’ fell of their own sweet will, No person bas made a move yit.” “That’s all right,” responded Hank; ‘* he’d be a fool if he did, if he’s been spyin’ on us, It may be ez you say, but I mean ter know ’fore I go away from here, you bet!” “T think we'd better git out o’ here jest as soon as we kin,” “ That's all right, but I ain’t goin’ till I know what made these boxes fall. If somebody has been listenin’ to what we said, and has seen our faces, that somebody has got ter die.” . Mart felt that he was gone. Still, though, hs remained perfectly quiet, and rs up his mind to continue so as long as he could. It was just possible that they might not find i him. ‘* But how be ye goin’ ter find him?’ queried Bob, ‘It won't do ter fool round here long, an’ it won’t do ter make too much of a light. If ye take my advice we'll skip out ter wunst.” “Now ye mought jest ez well shut up, fer I tell ye I'm goin’ ter investergate this thing. I don’t do things by halves, I don’t, an’ if there’s any feller hidin’ under these boxes an’ bar’ls, he will furnish another bait fer th’ mail-bag holder.” Mart’s heart beat as though it meant to break = Hoge and he felt a chill playing up and down It was a terrible moment for him. Standing on his head in the narrow confines of a barrel, all pressed down in a heap from the force of his fall, it seemed as though his neck was — slowly twisted out of joint. But still he remained silent. A a _ **Confound th’ luck,” be heard Hank mutter, after be had moved two or three of the boxes: and another avalanche of them came «own, ‘* there must be a million of th’ blamed tlingsf How be we ter git ovt o’ here?” ‘Oh! we kin git out fast enough,” Bob assur- ed, ‘if that is all ye want. Wekin jest climb over ’em an’ let ’em lay. An’ we'd bette: be doin’ it, too. If somebody did push ’em dow on us, mebby he’s gone off fur help ter scoop us in. I think we'd better dust out, double- quick.” ‘*T don’t know but you're more’n half right, but it ain’t safe ter take no chances ov this biz. Remember we have showed our faces,” ‘“ Well, if ye’re bound ter bunt round a Jittle, let’s stop chionin’ an’ do it. Ketch on, an’ fire out th’ boxes. It won’t do ter make too much noise about it, though.” Mail-boy Mart beard them set to work, then, to remove the rubbish. The barrel which he was in had fallen to the bottom of the hole, and the men were now not two feet away from him. In fact, he now and then felt them rub against. the barrel as they moved about, To make matters worse, he knew that unless. they went away pretty soon he would have to make known his presence. His neck was so soenpee that he could not stand the pain much onger. Presently one of the men caught hold of that. very barrel and gave it a jerk. It was Hank, ** ello!” he exclaimed, “‘here’s a bar] wi’ somethin’ in it.” Instantly he let go bis bold and thrust in his hand, and Mart felt the hand grab his leg. “ By smoke!” Hank cried out, ‘1 was right. Here’s a boy in this here bar’l, head down,” ** Th’ deuce there is,” from Bob. ‘There is, fer a fact. Jest light a match fer one second till I yank bim out,” ~~ obeyed, and Hank pulled Mart out of the barrel. ’ It wasa a relief to the boy at first, but be realized fully the danger that now threatened him. The moment he was placed upon his feet Hank clutched his throat with no gentle grasp and looked at him. ““ Say, you young whelp,” be cried, as Bob put out the match, “‘ what be ye doin’ here ?” ‘* Please, sir,” Mart gasped, ‘‘ I was asleep in a box.” “Oh! ye was, was ye?” “ Yes.” ““Well, mebby you're tellin’ th’ truth, but that don’t help yer case any; hey, Bob?” ‘** Not a bit,” declared Bob. ** Boy,” Hank bissed, ‘* you’ve got ter die.” ‘*Oh! please don’t kill me,” Mart cried out: ‘please don’t.” ‘* We don’t like to do it, but it’s got ter be d Mebby you was asleep an’ didn’t bear nothin an’ mebby ye wasn’t; we can’t tell, an’ so we’ve got ter make sure of ye,” Mart now attempted to scream for help, but Hank almost choked the breath out of him. ‘Don’t ye holler, ye little fool!” he hissed, “for [ll choke th’ life right out 0 ye. Chokin’ is the very wurst kind o’ way terdie, If yell be a good little boy, we'll kill ye in a good deal easier is ong what chokin’ is; hey, Bob?” “You bet we will,” Bob returned; ‘ we'll send him out 0’ the’ world by mail,” ‘“ Ha, ha, ba!” laughed Hank, “ that’s a good way, but we hain't got th’ time now ter tend to it. We'll have ter doit slick an’ quick.” ‘‘That’s so,” Bob agreed; ‘‘an’ th’ slicker an? quicker we do it th’ better,” It would be folly tosay that Mail-boy Mart was not frigh , for he was, and badly, too. And well he might be. He knew that he cevld expect no mercy from such men, and believed that his time had come. He tried to plead for bis life, but Hank kept: such a firm clutch upon bis throat that be could not utter a word. In fact, he was hardly able to get any breath. “You're right,” Hank said, ‘* for we can’t fool round here no longer.” And then in a lower tone, which was only too painfully audible to Mart, he added: Jest take that tickler o’ yourn an’ tickle him — a little atween th’ left ribs while I hold him. Then we’ll leave bim right here.” Imagine yourself Mart. His heart seemed to stop beating, and drops of cold perspiration started out upon his face. For one instant the su was horrible, for he expected nothing less than to feel the keen blade of a knife thrust into his body. ' x8 The suspense was but momentary, however, i t “ z Y | ' ; ii Are in - Bek bag iy bas - , 4 - ; tent a be oe we ie as > “2 ‘on Bat i hae aera he sf < r, e: Phas Se ; e ; i ‘
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Cea re ite i ee. eds Weed ‘ie ’ | ee ES * ; ele jah Sette Baek > ow Fy pardon to # man condemned. Ps ‘No, siree!” Bob exclaimed, ‘not that way. r We're a long jump from bein’ out 0’ the woods, an’ I tell ye it won’t do ter have any signs 0’ bleed about us.” . “That's so, that’s so,” Hank agreed. “I x see, sure,” ** Let’s sarve him same as we did th’ other feller.” ‘*T tell ye we hain’t got time.” “Oh! [ don’t mean th’ mail-bag jigger; I { mean th’—” ‘*Oh! I see, sez th’ blind man. That will do fu’st rate. 1t’ll be better than th’ knife, bya t loug sight. There won’t be any tell-tale marks,” f ‘s Mail-boy Mart wondered what his fate was to e Their next words gave him an ideaof it in all ‘it its horror, “ An’ then,” said Bob, ‘‘ we kin throw th’ f mail-bags in at th’ same time.” ‘Jest so,” agreed Hank; ‘‘ bein’ as we was goin’ ter do it anyhow.” Mart had heard them speak about throwing the bags into an old well. Clearly that was what they now meant to do with him. In the corner of the adjoining field, let us ex- ‘plain, had once stood a house. Fire had long since made it atving of the past, and destruc- tive boys and worse tramps bad torn down and put the out-buildings to asimilar fate. The old well, though, remained, and was covered over with a number of heavy bvards. It was this well the two villains bad in mind. Without any further delay they forced a gag into the boy’s mouth, and then tied his hands. This done, they secured his feet, and he was ren- dered perfectly helpless, | ‘* Now, my lad,” advised Hank, ‘if you know any purty little pra’rs, you'd better be thinkin’ ‘em over. You'll soon be where ye can’t say ’emnomore. We really hate to cut ye off in yer buddin’ youth, but stern necessity com- pels.” The two rascals then set to work to clear “away the boxes and barrels so that they could get out with their burden. When this was done, Hank went out first to look around. He soon returned. ‘* Not a sound to be heard,” he reported, ‘‘ an’ now fer it. Git bold.” They lifted Mart up, then, and carried him up and out into the field. Once there, they turned in the direction of the old well, and soon found it. **Tt?s lucky th’ boss told us about this old well,” Hank remarked, as they laid the boy down, * fer it is mighty handy.” Despite his immediate peril, Mart wondered who ‘' the boss” could be. But he had little time for refiection. The boards were soon removed from over the ; _ dismal hole, and then the boy was picked up. + ea For an instant the two fiends held him sus- ar 1% ded oyer it, head downward, and then they Jet him fall, ”, ? CHAPTER V. a a et 7 THE DETECTIVE AT WORK. ss INa moment more the murderers heard the Pi rel strike the bottom. - Then they listened. Not a sound came up out of the dark depths, __ * He's done fer,” whispered Bob. ay _ Yes, deader’n a hammer,” Hank coincided. Pitch in the bags, then, an’ we'll be gittin’ away from here. 1l’ve got no love fer the place, » ) you bet.” “Nori, In they goes,” throwing down the (seliaag mail bags, one after the other, ‘ an’ now let’s hole up.” : ; Hurriedly but carefully they put the boards back into p «J don’t s’pose we kin hide our marks at that Fe well,” Hank observed, as they hastened on. . “We won't try to, you kin bet,’’ said Bob. “Tn course not; but what I mean, I s’pose our _. *racks kin be seen, an’ that th’ boards over th’ swell will show that they’ve been lifted.” ss * Yes, no doubt, but it’s too late to think o’ ‘that row, =Tbey won't be likely ter find any- ‘thing out afore mornin’, an’ by that time I hope | we'll be all safe.” ss So they talked on until they came to the rail- road, and then they turned to the eastward and Kihtntte tings ¢ | Mart, the Night Express But, how then? fer it’s got ter be did, | Cities A obche Siw eee PEGS wh Mie Se and then came the other rascal’s reply, like a i An bour later a train bound east stopped at Springside. Tere was but one passenger to get off, and that one was Jacob Raybold, the detective. — Quite a group of men stood on the platform, and no sooner had the train stopped than they pressed forward around the conductor, and one of them asked: ** Conductor, have you, got any mail aboard for this place? We didn’t get any from the Ex- press, or leastwise our old carrier can’t be found,” ** Old Roger is dead,” said the conductor. ** Dead!” they all cried, ‘‘ how do you know?” ‘* Everybody on the road knows it,” the con- ductor returned, ‘‘ He was killed and hung up on the 1wail-stand, or was hanged there and so killed, and when the Express came along the mail-agent caught him with the crane.” **Good heavens! and where is he now?” * At Crawford’s,” The little group of citizens looked at one an- other in surprise and horror. “We knowed somethin’ must be wrong,” one remarked, * but we didn’t look for nothin’ like this. ‘*And this accounts for the missing mail- bag,” said another. ‘‘Old Roger has been killed fer th’ mail.” ‘* You have bit it right, [ guess,” the conduc- tor confirmed. ‘‘No doubt some evil tramps have killed the old man to get possession of the mail-bags, and have put the body on the mail- stand out of pure cussedness, I hope you'll find out who did it,” All this occupied but a minute or less, and saying good-night the conductor shouted “ all- aboard!” gave his lantern a swing and the train started on, Two or three of the men who had come out in search of the old carrier had lanterns with them and as soon as the train had started on the rest of the group collected around these two or three to decide what they should do, Jacob Raybold j>ined them and listened to the theorles they advanced and the plans they suggested. It was some time before they noticed that there was a stranger among them. When the discovery was made, all eyes were turned on him. ‘* Mister,” one asked, ‘‘ who are you?” “Am I the only stranger among you?” the detective counter-questioned. The men with the lanterns looked around at the other faces, “* Yes,” was the reply, ‘‘ you are.” “Then you are all citizens of Springside?” “Yes, we are; but you haven’t answered my question.” ‘T will dosonow, Iam Jacob Raybold, the detective.” This was said in a lower tone, é a citizens looked the surprise and awe they elt, ‘* Be you, really?’ one innocently asked, half- doubtingly, “I surely am,” the great (?) detective as- sured, ‘‘and I am here to find out who killed your old carrier.” Good!” exclaimed the group. “Yes, and I want you to assist me,” the de- tective went on. : “‘And that we will!” the first speaker ex- claimed, ‘*“May Iask who you are?” inquired the de- tective. “T am John Larkspur, the postmaster at Springside,” was the reply. ‘* And lam Ward Jacobs, the station-agent,” another volunteered. 98 Just the two I wanted to see,” said Ray- d, “How is it,” inquired the postmaster, ‘that vou learned of the murder and got here so soon? I suppose, though, you were at Crawford's,” he added, ‘‘and have just come from there.” ‘“* You guess rightly, sir; and now, if you are ready, let us begin our work.” ‘* We are ready.” * Tn the first place, let me ask a question or two. : “ Go ahead,” “* Has any one of you any suspicion as to who can have done the deed?” “There is where you’ve fot us, I guess, sir,” answered the postmaster. ‘I haven't the ghost of an idea.” There were several “‘ no’s,” but no one answer- ed i a ‘*Had the old man any enemies?” was the next question. ‘*‘Not one,” answered the postmaster, posi- tively. NEN eee ee “4 Detective. 5 The others were of the same opinion. “It is not necessary to ask whether he was rich, for his humble position goes to prove tbat he was not.” ‘* No,” the postmaster agreed, ‘he was not by apy means rich. He owned, however, a little house and lot, lived all alone, and, as he was very saving, generally carried quite a sum of money with him.” ‘*His watch and pocketbook were found in his pockets, and his money was safe.” ‘** Then he was not killed for that.” ** Decidedly not.” ‘* And what is your idea about it?” the station- agent inquired. ‘* Well,” responded the detective, *‘I think we shall have to start upon the theory that he was killed for the mail-bag.” “*T can’t see what else it could be for,” “A tramp, or a party of tramps, perhaps,” the detective went on, ‘‘ bave met him and de- manded the bag, and the old man refusing and doing his best to defend it, they bave killed him. Then, not knowing how todis of the body, the idea has come to them to hang it up on the mail-stand.” ‘* That sounds reasonable enough,” the station- agent here remarked, ‘‘ but at the same time I think tramps would have been likely to go through his pockets, would they not?” The detective was thoughtful. “You are right,” be acknowledged, ‘‘ they certainly would. It may be, though, that they were frightened off before they had time to do it,” he added. ‘*T do not think so,” the agent again opposed. ** You do not?” “cc No,” ** And why not?” ‘* For this reason: If they had time to hang him to the arm of the mail-stand, they certainly bad time to go through his pockets; and if they intended robbing him at all, would they not have attended to that first? It seems to me so,” Jacob Raybold was considerably nettled. To bave any one give bim points in his own line of business, was not to bis liking. He evi- dently thought he ‘‘knew it all,” and wanted others to think the same. As it was, though, he could not deny the force of the station-agent’s argument, and so said: ‘““Your ideas are clear, sir, and they seem to put the tramp theory under cover.” *] think so, too,” agreed the postmaster. “Then,” said Rayhold, ‘‘we must look for some one who might have had an object in rob- bing the mail.” “But how are we to find such a person?” questioned the postmaster. ‘That remains to be seen. give me a clew.” oc Yes.” ‘* How can I give you a clew?” **Do you know of any one who was expecting mouey by mail to-night?” “ No, sir.” “Is there any one at Springside who receives money by mail in large sums?” “No, sir.” ‘* Well, let us try again. Was any one, to your knowledge, expecting an important letter to-night—im portant papers— anything?” ‘“No, sir, not— Yes, there was, now 1 come to think of it.” ‘‘Ha! this is encouraging. Who was it? — ‘Tt was Mr. Paul, who has been at the Eagle Hotel all summer.” “What was he looking for?” ‘* A large letter.” ** Tell me what you know about Mr, Paul, and also about his expected letter.” ‘* Well, the gentleman’s full name is Mr. M. Henry Paul. Heis a man of means, and has been at the Eagle all the season, He happened into the office this morning, and said: *** Mr, Larkspur,’ said he, ‘1 expect a rather bulky letter to-day, or within a day or two at most. When it comes, please bold it here and I will call for it. Do not send it to the hotel.’ * “All right, sir,’ said I, ‘I will hold it for ou. ““*Tt will be from Higgins & Bondwell, New York,’ said be, ‘so you can’t mistake it.’ *** All right,’ said I, ‘ I’ look out for it.’ be rer ng about all, wohiee 6 dell nd that is quite enou red Ray- bold. “I must eee Mr. Paul.” * ‘*Good Heaven!” exclaimed one of the group; “vou don’t suppose he killed the man, do you ‘* No; but.some one else may have been inter- ested in that letter, and waylaid the old carrier Perhaps you can into its owner's hands,” saree to gain possession of it before it could —
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ge ted oot ao | ‘*There may be something in that,” the others a er At any rate, it will pay me to see Mr. Paul, I thiok,” the detective added. ‘‘ But now let us set to work to see what we can learn around here, We way find some clew that will put the key to the mystery right into our hands. You, Mr. Jacobs, being agent here, must know every foot of the ground quite well, Please lead the way to the place where the body was caught by the mail train.” ‘* All right, follow me,” said the agent, and he stepped down from the platform and started up the track. CHAPTER VI. WHERE IS HENRY PAUL? DETECTIVE RAYBOLD, the tmaster, and the others followed the agent’s lead. When tiey arrived at the mail-stand the agent stopped and said: “This is the place,” The detective looked at the queer-looking de- vice for a moment in silence, Presently he said: “*T cannot see where the man was hung up on that thing.” “The arm is now banging down,” the agent explained. ‘‘ As soun as the weight is taken off it falls.” **Oh! I see!” baer the postmaster’s lantern, the detective ascended the three or four steps that led to the little platform and proceeded to examine the pe- culiar contrivance critically. He discovered—nothing. “There is nothing to be learned here,” he an- nounced, as he descended. “Well, where to next?” the agent inquired. “ Suppose we look around and see if we can find any marks of a struggle.” “ All right.” “Do you know which way the old carrier usually approached the stand? ** Yes,” the agent explained, ‘“‘ he always came straight down the road, turned the corner of this fence, and then walked along to this point.” “Then we must look for signs somewhere along that fence, or along the road,” the detec- tive remarked; and stil] retaining the postmas- ter’s lantern, he and the agent led the way. They followed the little path along the fence until they came to the road, and proceeded up the road for quite a distance, but they could find no unusual marks to arouse suspicion. The weather had been very dry of late, and in the heavy dust of the country road all tracks were alike. And there were many of them. When they had gone quite a distance, the postmaster called a halt, saying: “Tf we go on we shall soon reach the town. Shall we go on, Mr. Raybold, or shall we go back to the station?” “We may as well go on,” the detective an- swered. ‘It is poor satisfaction to search around here by lamp-light, and besides I want to see that Mr. Paul.” “ On we go, then.” “In the morning, when we can see what we are doing, then we can come and look for the missing mail-bag.” They were just starting on when a noise in the direction of the station caused them to stop and listen. “What was that?’ the detective demanded. * T don’t know,” the postmaster responded. “Tt sounded holler like an empty bar’l or box,” one ventured. “There is a pile of old boxes and barrels be- hind the station,” said the agent, ‘‘ and it may be some one’has moved them—or some of them, by accident or otherwise.” The cause of the noise is easily explained. One of the heavy boxes had been left in such a@ precarious ition, by the two villains who had recently m buried under them, that its falling was only a question of time. Now it bad slip and fallen, carrying sev- eral more along with it, ‘““We must go back and see,” said the detec- tive, promptly. They turned back at once. When they neared the station again the de- tective drew a revolver and prepared to face avy one who might come. This country detective’s way of doing things would have caused a city professional to smile. Reaching the station they advanced upon the peer eea and then the agent led the way around the rear where the boxes and barrels lay. ‘* Some one has been here, that is sure,” he re- marked, ‘This rubbish was piled up against the fence, and now it is all down against the cel- lar door.” ‘* Perhaps it has been pushed down there for a urpose,” observed Raybold. ‘*‘ We must move t and find out. There may be something or somebody under it.” ‘“‘T think I can explain the whole thing, now,” ventured the postmaster. **You can?” from the detective. “cc Yes.” ‘* Well, what is your idea?” ‘*T see the fence there is broken, tice that?” None of the others had. **So it is!” exclaimed the agent. you account for that?” **Cattle.” ‘* Cattle?” ““Yes, You know this field is used for pas- ture, and no doubt a cow has strayed around here, hit the fence, and so caused the noise by breaking the rail and knocking over the boxes, If Tam not mistaken there are some cows stand- ing, out there now; are there not!” he others looked out into the darkness in the direction in which he pointed, and all agreed that he was right. This seemed so entirely reasonable that it was accepted at once as the true explanation of the noise, and laughing over their ‘‘ fool’s errand,” as they called it, the party once more turned their steps toward the town. Little did they dream of the true state of affairs. In due time they reached the post-office, pape the postmaster explained what bad taken place. Late as the hour was, a great many citizens were still at the office awaiting the coming of the mail, In a country town like Springside, if the mail arrived at three o’clock in the morning, So pe y would be sure to be found waiting up or it. The newscreateda great excitement, as can well be imagined, and for once the easy-going poste J of life in that quiet little town was effectually broken. And no one showed greater surprise or con- cern than did §$t. Edmund Dare, the rich owner of Dare Manor at Springside. A few words concerning this gentleman are necessary to the proper unfolding of our story. Dare Manor was one of the finest old home- steads in the State, and, in all, about a thou- fand acres of land belonged to the estate. St. Edmund, the only child of his parents, who were now dead, had left home at the age of fifteen to go to sea. His father had not op- him, as he was one who believed in allow- ing boys to follow the bent of their own inclina- tions. He had, however, taken the precaution to engage a trusted friend to follow the boy in his wanderings, unbeknown to the lad, to watch over and protect him, For several years young St, Edmund was heard from frequently, now in one part of the world and again in another, and his father re- ceived favorable reports from the guardian, who had made the boy’s acquaintance by this time, gained his friendship, and was his accept- ed companion. Finally all letters ceased, and~ neither the boy nor the guardian friend was heard from again for years. Time passed, and Mr. and Mrs. Dare aged rapidly, mourning constantly the loss of their we.l-loved son, and at last they died. A year later the boy and his guardian friend returned, only to find the manor in the care of servants, and no other kindly face to greet them. The travelers told a remarkable story of ship- wreck and yoy in a wild foreign land, and the grief of the young man was deep and sin- cere. He proved his identity to the satisfaction of the legal authorities, and was put into possession of the estate, and, asking his traveling compan- ion to join him, settled down to the quiet life the manor afforded. His friend and guardian, whose name, by the way, was Hammond, had now confessed the part he had been playing, and the young heir thought none the less of him for the deception. We call him the *‘ young man” still, when, in point of fact, he was now thirty, having been absent from home full fifteen years. A year after their return, Hammond sudden- ly died, and since his death to the time of our story St. Edmuud had lived alone, managing well the large estate and making himself aimost as popular with the majority of his fellow-citi- zens as Squire Dare had been before him. Did you no- “How do Mart, the Night Express Detective. He was now a man of thirty-five, wore a full, black beard, and was always faultlessly dressed. On this eventful night he had dropped into the post-office, as he sometimes did when in the village late enough for the last mail, to inquire whether there were any letters for him. He was told that the carrier, Old Roger, had not arrived with the bag. Time passed, and all present began to wonder why the old man did not come, ep Perhaps,” some one suggested, ‘‘ the train is te.’ ‘“No,” some one else averred, “ for I was down to Ben Giles’s house when it passed. It stopped after it was past the station, too, though of course I don’t know what for.” After waiting a little longer it was suggested that some one should go in search of the old carrier, This was instantly agreed to, and several men set out at once, including the postmaster and the station-agent. When they returned, and Detective Raybold with them, and the startling news was known, St. Edmund Dare was, as stated, much com cerned. ‘* Tuere is something back of all this,” he de- clared, ‘‘and the truth must be brought out. That honest old. man must and shall be avenged.” Asking Larkspur for a large sheet of paper, St. Edmund busied bimself over it with pen and ink for some minutes, and then posted it on the wall. It read as follows: $500 REWARD! “The above-named reward will be paid to any per- son who will give information that will lead to the arrest and conviction of the murderer of Roger Blake. Sr. Epmunp Dare, “There,” he said, addressing the detective, “there is a trifling inducement for you to do your best, sir.” ‘* That is what I always do, sir,” the detective responded, ‘‘and I bope I shall be able to claim the reward you offer.” ‘“*T hope you will be,” St. Edmund rejoined; and after a little further conversation he left the office and set out for home. Now could Mail-boy Mart have been per- mitted to be present, he could have declared, unhesitatingly, that this St. Edmund Dare was. the very man who had tried to bribe Henry Prentiss to deliver a letter to bim on the train, saying that his name was M. Henry Paul; and who, a little later on, bad stopped the train and run away across the fields. Would the boy have been mistaken? It is certain that no one would have believed his story. ; And the detective—he lost no time in setting - out to find M. Henry Paul. But he did not find him. He was not at the hotel, and no one could tell where he was, last that had been seen of him was when, ju a little while before Old Roger went down with the mail-bag, he was seen going in the direc- tion of the station. CHAPTER VII. A COMPANION IN DISTRESS. Wirnovt further delay we must return to Mail-boy Mart. Was he dead? If such had been the case this history would bear another name. No, he was not dead, but, thanks to an ever- watchful Providence, very much alive. Let us explain, When he felt himself falling down, down, into the dark and dismal hole, had no hope of ever seeing another day. He gave himself up as lost, A thousand thoughts rushed into his mind, he lived again his short career, and every act of his life, almost, came to bim with startling vividness. Could it be that this was to be his fate? Must he perish thus? Alas! there was no ray of hope, and he bade a silent farewell to house and friends. The sensation of falling seemed to be a never- ending age, though it was but one short secon? of duration in fact, and then he fell head-fir. into the water at the bottom. Bound and gagged as he was, what possible chance had he for escape? Unaided, none. : No sooner was he under the water, though, than he felt a hand grab him by the leg. = Was he not mistaken? Did he not imagine it? — It seemed too good to be true, : j
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f rr Jong enough, ° “% ‘Aint you cold? * na y ‘True it was, though, and he felt himself pulled around and turned right end up. His ideas were a little confused at first, for, although the water had broken bis fall to a con- siderable extent, his head had come into quite violent contact with the sandy bottom. When placed upon his feet be found that the water came about up to his shoulders, His rescuer, whoever he was, held him firmly, but did not speak. , He remained silent for some little time, until the rascals above had replaced the boards, in fact, and then he spoke. ** Boy,” he demanded, ‘‘ who are you?” Mart could not very well reply, baving a gag in his mouth. “‘Can’t you speak?” the rescuer insisted. He was holding the boy by the shoulders, and the only reply he got was to feel the shoulders move. Mart moved to let him know that he heard but was powerless to reply. The man passed one hand up to his face, and discovered the gag. ** Ha!” heexciaimed, ‘‘no wonder you did not reply. [ll have this thing off in one minute. Whoever threw you down here evidently meant to make sure of your not getting away. There, now you can speak, I guess.” Mart tried it and found that he could. “Thank th’ Lord you was here, whoever ye be,” were his first words. ‘‘{ reckon I’d been a goner if you hadn’t been; goodness, yes!” “But, who are you?” the man asked again. “ Well, my name is Martin Hardy. but ['m a heap better known as Mail-boy Mart.” “That is a queer name. Where are you from?” ‘*?m from Mapleton. Say, though, just free may hands and feet, if ye can, and then I kin talk better | know.” “Well, you are tied up well, [ must say. I will free you if I can, and then you and [ must understand each other. What are these things that were thrown down after you? One aimost cracked my head. Why, they are muil-bags! Do you have oan to do with the mail?” “Yes, sir; I am the carrier at Mapleton. That’s where I got my name of Mail-boy he “Oh! I see, ell, let me try to set you free, now, so far as the use of your limbs is concerned. Whether we shall ever get out of here, though, is the important question.” How this man could talk so calmly, standing waist-deep in almosl ice-cold water, Mart could not understand. His, Mart’s, teeth were rattling like castanets. The man reached down and carefully cut the cords that bound tle lad’s wrists, and then lifted him up, told him to hold fast to his shoulders and draw up his feet, and then did the same to the cords that bound his ankles. “There,” he remarked, ‘‘ now you are as free as I am, which isnot saying a great deal.” “Thanks,” said Mart, gratefully; ‘an’ now may | ask who you be” “You may, certainly. We are brothers in ag and we should be agreeable. My name is M. Henry Paul.” ‘“*M. Henry Paul!” y ‘Yes; why do you repeat it in that tone?” Of course it was totally dark down there, and neither could see the other, “Why,” Mart explained, “I was wondering how you could git around here an’ git inter this fix so soon after leavin’ the train.” “After leaving the train? What do you mean by that?” “Mean just what TI say. You pulled th’ bell- cord, after th’ trainbad passed th’ station, an’ aggoon as th’ train stopped, you lit out across th’ field. I seen you.” “ Boy, you are crazy.” “T ain’t as crazy as I look,” “Well, I canuot see how you look, but there is a mistake somewhere. I have not been aboard train in several days.” | “Then there must be a mistake, sure enough, an’a full wn one, too. Do you mean ter say you wasn’t on the Night Express to-night?” oe was not,” . : “ Py yet ye say yer name 1s M. Henry Paul? OW then there must be two of th’ same pee M. Henry Paul was a feat me Leastwi vas what he ca hiselt.> twise that was if [_kin keep my teoth from rattlin’ Lordy! bat ein't this water cold! “it certainly is cold, and we must do our best ot to get out of it, Together we may be able to do i S exec a Mart, the Night Express Detective. something. But tell me what you can about my double.” ‘* Well, it ain’t a great deal, an’ it’s soon told. Ye see I was in the mail-room witb the agent, takin’ a ride with bim down to Cliffton an’ back, as I sometimes do, when there came a knock at the door, Tne agent opened it an’a man slipped in. He said as how bein’ th’ train didn’t make no stop at Springside, an’ he ex- pectin’ a letter that was mighty ‘portant to him, he wanted Prenty—th’ agent, ye know—ter give it to him.” ‘** And did he? the man asked. ‘*Nixey. Th’ man said it was a big letter, addressed to M. Henry Paul, an’ bein’ as he was th’ man, he wanted it. Prenty don’t do biz that way, though, an’ he told him so; an’ even when th’ man offered a hundred—” ‘* He offered a hundred dollars for it?” “Exactly; but Prenty said ‘no’ jest th’ same, an’ put him out.” . Good!” bags. ‘*Sure enough. We must manage some way to keep them out of the water so their contents will not get wet. How can we do it?” “Give it up, unless ye kin git hold of a little stick, or a nail, an’ kin stick it in atween th’ bricks an’ hang ’em on it.” ‘* Just the thing. I have a pencil here which. will answer the purpose nicely.” ‘““Say, though,” Mart reflected, “if we're goin’ ter try to get out o’ here we don’t want to leave th’ mail-bags behind us, do we?” “Not if we can take them with us, my lad.” Just so; an’such bein’ th’ case, s’pose we roll’em up an’ tie’em onto our shoulders like sojer’s knapsacks, They ain’t very full, £ don’t reckon.” ‘* A good idea, and that is what we will do.” A few minutes’ work and the task was done. Having plenty of cord, the bags were easily secured to tbe shoulders of the man and boy, each of whom assisted the other. The man cared little for the mail as a whole, but there was one letter in which he had great interest, and not knowing which bag it was in, he was obliged to make an effort to save them oth. With Mail-boy Mart it was different. He was asworn carrier, and he meant to see that the mail did not get lost or damaged if he could prevent. While they were thus engaged their conversa- tion did not flag. ‘** And you say that man stopped the train and got off, after the train had passed the station, and ran away across the fields, eh?” the man in- terrogated. ** Yes, sir.” * And would you know him if you were to see him again?” “ Sure.” ‘Very well, if we ever get out of here so that Ms can see each other, you will know it was not “ But,” said Mart, ‘‘ how did you git in here? Was you throwed in same as I was ** Yes; but very luckily for us both, I was not bound.” ** And who done it?” “Two villains, who, asI believe, were hired to murder me.” e = ye see their faces so’s ye kin know ’em ag’in? ‘*No, unfortunately.” “ Learn their names?” ‘* One was called ‘ Hank.’” ‘*Them’s th’ same two that pitched me in.” ‘“And where did they get hold of you, my lad, and why did they want to put you out of the way?” ‘*T was spyin’ on ’em, an’ they nabbed me,” “You were spying on them?” ‘*r¥eu.” “You speak in riddles, Where did you find them. and what were you after them for?” Ye see I left th’ train when it was stop by that feller, an’ set out ter find out who killed Old Roger, [—» ;, £8 Old Roger, the carrier, dead?” _ der'n a stump, : These same two fellers hung him up on th’ arm of th’ mail-stand, an’ when th’ Night Express came along Prentiss caught th’ body with th’ crane.” ** Heavens! that was horrible! Give me the particulars. If I ever get out of this bole, and my life is spared, that honest old man shall be avenged.” Mart complied, and gave his new-found friend bet the main particulars of his night’s adven- res, And he had an attentive listener. a’ that letter must be in one of these $-0go “aaa 1 Sa 5 AE GOI Hp BT 0H = «ON “Tt is all the work of that fiendin human form —James Hammond,” the man grated, ‘* But he shail pay the penalty for his crimes, I will tear the mask from his face and show him up in bis true light. But, lad, how to get out of here? CHAPTER VIII. LOVE IS NOT BLIND, THE most charming lady in Springside was Miss Doxte Howell. : She was charming alike in appearance, man- ner, and disposition, and it was said of her that she lived more for others than for herself. Good, kind, charitable, possessing all the qualities that go to make up the perfect Christian woman, she was loved by all who knew her. ‘Miss Howell was no longer young, as ladies reckon their years, for she was nearly bar” two, but in appearance and spirits she was fully ten years younger. The passing years had dealt gad with her, and she was still the recognized belle of every social gathering in the neighborhood. She had had many offers of marriage, but had refused them all, preferring, as she said, a life of independent freedom. But there was another and a deeper reason why she had never married. Back of her easy-going, every-day life was a little romance. And that romance has ss much to do with our story as has Miss Howell herself, almost. Doxie had had a school-day lover in the per- son of young St. Edmund Dare. And, unlike most such affairs of the the heart, this one grew stronger instead of proving but a passing fancy. When St. Edmund left home, at the age of fifteen, he and Doxie exchanged vows that, upon his return, they would become lovers in fact. And both were thoroughly in earnest. Doxie was the daughter of a quite wealthy farmer, who was one of Squire Dare’s best friends. The two families were quite intimate. When Doxie was about sixteen years old her mother died, and her father, at her request, sent ber away to a young ladies’ school where she remained until she was yp? Then she returned home, and had ever since managed her father’s house for him. She and St. Edmund corresponded with moro or less regularity, up to the time when his letters to his parents suddenly ceased. Even after that she continued true to her pledge, and never gave up hope. She tried, too, to inspire her lover’s parents with ber own con- fidence, but in vain. Time passed, and at last St. Edmund -re- turned. And his return caused no little excitement in the quiet country town and its immediate neigh- borbood. Everybody was anxious to see the wanderer, and hear from bis own lips the story of bis ad- ventures. And,as may be imagined, no one was more anxious to meet him than Doxie Howell. ya to say, though, St. Edmund did not call, Her first meeting with him was at church on Sunday. He did not greet her, though he spoke to ber father and grasped his hand warmly. Doxie was rigbt beside her father at the time, and her father said: ‘* My daughter, Doxie, Mr. Dare; do you not remember her?” “What! this Doxie?” St. Edmund exclaimed. “JT would never have known ker.” This cut like a knife into the faithful girl’s heart, and she turned away quickly to conceal the pain her face expressed. After that, St. Edmund called at the Howell homestead ‘frequently. Doxie’s charms were not lost vpon him, it seemed, and he fell desperately in love with her. But he might as well have loved an iceberg. After his slighting ber as he had done, she treated him with a mere polite recognition that was simply freezing. Strange to say, the more distant she became the more persistent were his attentions. But they were in vain. One evening, af er St. Edmund hed left their beete, Doxie startled her father with this asser- ion: “ Father, that man is not_St. Edmund Dare.” “Not St. Edmund?” Mr. Howell exclaimed. “No, father, he is not.” ‘But, Doxie, he has proven his identity to [tebe
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oo epee te, ae : hee: ‘ a a rene Le eae a A nny no ee am et ee “heey TT hes - (meee ee eee ry mae ° ee { ou > o~ . . eae 3 : the satisfaction of everybody, and the estate has been turned over to him,” **T know he has, father, but I believe him to be an impostor.” *“ Why do you believe that?” ‘* Because, for one thing, he is so unlike the St. Edmund we used to know.” **T admit it; but you must not lose sight of the fact that he was away from home full tifteen years, and that he grew from boyhood to man- hood in foreign lands,” “| have made allowance for all that, but still I cannot believe that this man is the true heir.” ‘““Have you any other reasons for your be- lief?” ‘* T have.” ** What are they?” ** You know that I corresponded with St, Ed- mund after he went away.” ‘** Yes, I know.” ** And you know that he asked me to beeome his wife.” ** Yes, you told me,” ‘* Then it will be easier for me to explain, St. Edmund and [ were school-day lovers, and when he went away we agreed to write to each other and to keep up our warm friendship. I was thoroughly in earnest, and so was he, I waited for him to return, When I was about twenty (he was then twenty-three), he wrote and asked me to wait for his return and then to becume his wife.” ** Yes, my child,” ** Well, you know how he greeted me when he did return.” ‘* True, true.” ‘* He acted just as though he had never seen me before.” ‘* He certainly did; but he has since evidently tried to make amends for it, and he now wants you to marry bim,” ‘**And I never will. He has asked me to marry him, but no mention has he ever made of our correspondence and engagement. Why does he not remind me of that? No, be is not St. Edmund, but an impostor. He knows noth- ing of the fact that I corresponded with St. Ed- mund, or of my promise to him.” Mr. Howell was thoughtful. Here was something which, to say the very feast, was strange. ** And what are we to do?” he asked. “We will do nothing,” was Doxie’s firm re- ply. ‘‘ I would not have my name mixed up in the gossip it would create. Besides we have no proof.” ‘You are right. I have often thought as you do, but have set it all to his being so long away from home. Now I am more than ever inclined todoubt him. But, we must not mention our ee woe till St. Edmund forced his presence vpon them, and m_re than once pressed bis suit for her hand. At last, in the presence of Mr. Howell, he de- manded a reason for Doxie’s persistent refusal. Doxie tried to put him off with some evasive answer, but he would not be put off. He de- manded a reason, and appealed to Mr.. Howell. ‘My father and you were friends,” he said, *fand I hoped to lead your daughter to Dare Manor as my wife. It isunjust toturnmeaway with no explanation. You leave it all to your daughter, and she persistently answers ‘ no.’” ** And,” Mr. Howell returned, ‘it is for her to give you her reasons, or not, as she will.” * And it is my right, I must insist, to demand some reason for the refusal,” St. Edmund re- joined. “It will make no differeace, so far as my de- termination is concerned,” said Doxie, ‘‘and I would rather not give a reason,” St. Edmund would not be satisfied, however, and at last Doxie said: ** Well, one reason is, 1 do not love you, and it bce be folly for me to marry you unless I ** Nonsense!” was the reply; “you would learn to love me, for I would devote my whole time to you in striving to make you happy. But, you say that is one reason; are there others?” * ““" There is one other, at least.” * And that is—what?” Something that had gone before had fired Doxie’s spirit a little, and sbe replied in a calm, cool tone, while she fixed her eyes steadily upon the man before her: “That is, because Ido not believe that you are St. Edmund Dare.” For an instant the man’s face was ashy ie. ro soon recovered, though, and exclaimed: “What! do you mean what you say?” LOO LAL IOELE NOT Re Re TT. - . ee A Mart, the Night Express Detective. | And Doxie answered: / “I do.” / She was now more firmly convinced than ever. In declaring that she did not love him she was giving the lie to her own written con- fession. She did love Edmund, and bad told | him.so more than once in her letters, Why did | he not speak of taat now? It was because, Doxie reasoned, he is not St. Edmund, and knows nothing about our past. The man turned at once to Mr. Howell. ‘““ And do you entertain the same idea?” he demanded, ‘*T must own,” the honest old man replied, “that I see a reasonable doubt. But I can say nothing further.” ** And what causes that doubt? I demand to know.” ‘*T will tell you, sir. There was an_under- standing between my daughter and St. Edmund Dare, concerning which, you have made it plain to. us, you know nothing.” The man grew angry. ‘*T will endeavor to convince you both of your error,” he said warmly, and left the house. Some days later a great many of the best peo- Mle of the neighborhood were invited to Dare Manor, Mr, Howell and Doxie included. The latter did not attend. After dinner, while the male guests were par- taking of their wine, St. Edmund said: ‘**Gentlemen, I have recently heard a doubt expressed that I am the true heir to this estate. In otber words, it has been said that I am not St. Edmund Dare. I want to show further and final proof that I am, so that all such silly talk may be checked. When I was a lad among you an old sailor one day printed a curious device in India-ink upon my arm. No doubt many among you remember to have seen it.” Several said they had, and St, Edmund bared his arm and displayed the mark, It was declared to be the same, Speaking a few words toa servant, St. Ed- | mund motioned him to opena certain door, and | the old sail r was conducted into the room, He was asked whether the device upon the ' arm was his handiwork, and answered prompt- ly that it was. St. Edmund’s position was secured. He would not name the doubters, but let the matter rest right there. And he never again darkened Mr. Howell’s door. Nor did any per- son ever hear a doubt expressed after that, and it was a ‘‘ nine days’ wonder,” to use the popular phrase, to the neighborhood who the doubters could have been. : So matters stood at the time of our story. CHAPTER IX. THE STORY OF THE CRIME, AnD now for a word concerning M, Henry Paul, who, with Mail-boy Mart, was in the dot- tom of the old well near the Springside station, and then to relate how the prisoners made their escape from their novel place of confinement. Mr. Paul had come to Springside early in the season, and had been a guest at the Eagle Hotel all summer. He was evidently a man of means, and soon made the acquaintance of nearly all the citi- zens and gained their friendship. In general appearance be was not unlike St. Edmund Dare. He was, however, a bandsomer man, and his natural manners were more pleas- ing. He was the same at all times, whereas St. Edmund had his moods, About the only person in Springside with whom Mr. Paul was not on friendly terms was St. Edmund, Not that they were enemies, for no one could say that. They seemed simply to have never made each other’s acquaintance, and neither appeared desirous to do so. Nor did they avoid each other. They were as stran- | gers. What Mr. Paul’s business was no one knew, Perhaps he had none. He had plenty of money, spent it freely but not lavishly, and evidently had sufficient means. Another mystery was, why he remained so long in the sleepy old town of Springside. Surely there were no attractions there for a man who had traveled as extensively as, he | clearly had, unless the attractions he sought | were peace aud quiet, These were there, cer- tainly. But Dame Rumor soon found another reason— another attraction. This one was Doxie Howell. Mr. Paul bad made her acquaintance shortly after his coming there, and their friendship had rapidly followed. He was a frequent caller at the Howell bomestead. Here, too, was anoth explanation for the | | how matters stood, | have forgotten pt eee —3 é ag coldness between him and St. Edmund are, ited Doxie quite often for some time after his return from abroad, and that now be was never seen there. It was clear to Dame Rumor that Mr. Paul was the favored one, and certainly no one could quarrel with Doxie for ber choice. What puz- zled the good dame, thouga, was to learn just Were Mr. Paul and Doxie anything more than friends? No one could say. It remains for us, who sre more privileged, to lift the curtain and_ bring the secret to light. Mr. Hevry Paul bad asked Doxie to become his wife. She had refused. He was no more fortunate than St. Edmund Dare had been, in this respect. But Doxie’s reason in the second instance was not the same. She was perfectly frank with | Mr. Paul, and told bim that ber hand was prom- ised to another to whom she intended to remain true—even to the grave, if necessary. Of course her lover pressed for the story in full, but it was denied him. Doxie remained silent upon the important point, and kept ber secret well. If her absent lover ever returned, she de- clared, be would find her true to her promise. If be did not— Well, she would wait on. ‘* But,” Mr. Paul reasoned, ‘‘ suppose your absent lover returns with a bride. He may you long ere this, and may be already married. Doxie’s cheeks grew pale, and tears came to her eyes. ‘Heaven help me, then,” she said. ‘* But,” she quickly added, ‘‘ that will not happen. I know—” she came near speaking the name—‘‘ I know him too well. He is dead, or he will return,” It will be seen that Mr. Paul had gained her confidence in a marked degree, and but for that other tie, no doubt Doxie would have yielded her heart to him, : But she remained true, and although Mr. Paul could not win her love, he retained her friendship. Mr. Henry Paul, during his stay at Spring- side, was in constant communication with the lawyers, Higgins & Bondwell of New York, of whom casual mention has been made, And, too, he had taken an occasional run to the city to visit their office in person, What his business was need not be mentioned now. On this day, upon which the interest of our It was known that St. Edmund had vis- story centers, M. Henry Paul had called at the post-office. He did not go there frequently, as most of bis letters were carried to and from by one of the hotel servants, What his business was we have learned from the postmaster, Mr, Larkspur. It may not be out of place to go over itina few words, ; It was in the forenoon when Le called, and to Mr, Larkspur he said: ‘TI expect a rather bulky letter to-day, or within a day or two at most. When it comes, please hold it here, and | will call forit. Do not send it to the hotel.” Larkspur said he would do as requested, and Mr, Paul added: “It will be from Higgins & Bondwell, New York, so you can’t mistake it.” This shows that the expected letter was of more than ordinary importance or value, It was, indeed. Later in the day, much to Mr. Paul’s surprise, he received a telegram from the lawyers, as fol- lows, in cipher: “M. Henry Pavn, Springside:— “We think safer send Jetter by special on Night ; Express. Train will stop. Be at station—meet meg Hiaeins & BonpWweELL.” It was greatly abbreviated, as most telegrams are, but the meaning was plain. The expected letter was to be sent b direct from the office iastead of by mail, as : been the previous understanding. The would stop, and Mr, Paul was requested to ) the man at the station. “T cannct understand,” Mr. Paul r “why they should change their plans, wrote only goad saying when and how the papers would be sent, They must have reason, though, for the chengys and as they have telegraphed me, I will be on band at the station when the Night Express arrives, It is some- thing new for that train to stop at 8: too, but perhaps there has been a change le. Night came, and allowing himself plenty « wh rh STs toy as + . 15h al a man 5 eal + a er
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VY time to reach the station at an easy walk, Mr. _ Paul started to meet the train. He had mentioned his business to no one, and started out alone. And he was only a short time ahead of Old Roger, the mail-carrier, who went down to de- liver a mail-bag to, and to receive one from, the same train. In fact, before he had quite reached the sta- tion Mr. Paui beard the old carrier behind him, and the peculiar clicking of the lock and hasp of the mail-bag told him who it was. Wher he had almost reached his destination, Mr. Paul was greatly startled to have two men spring up suddenly in his path and attack him. And so sudden was the attack that he could not defend himself, desperately as he tried to do so. “ At him, Hank!” he heard one of his assail- ants hiss, and both threw themselves upon him. The struggle was of short duration. Mr. Paul grappled with one of the men, and undoubtedly could have overcome him without great effort, but the other was armed with a ‘ billy,” a blow from which, well directed, gave the ruffians an easy victory. ‘ But the end was not yet. ay Mr. Paul fell senseless to the ground, but at the same moment another actor appeared upon the scene. This was Roger Blake, the mail-carrier. Old Roger always carried a stout cudgel when he had the mail-bag with him, and with no he rushed forward to attack the two ras- cals, Hearing the scvffling, the muttered oaths, and the blows, he had burried up, and was just in time to witness the ending blow. **Curse ye for th’ cowards ye be!” he cried, **but ye shall answer for this.” “Look out, Bob!” one of the rascals ex- claimed, as he sprung from under a heavy blow i of the cudgel, ‘* here’s one more ter do fer.” ¥ ** At him!” hissed Hank, as he succeeded in = dodging the next blow, and both sprung at the F old carrier at once, The old man fought desperately, and for some seconds it looked as though he would win. But fate was against him. Another well- yt directed blow from the “billy” gave the mur- u derers the victory. J _” That blow caused the old man’s death. No time was to be lost now, as the cowardly f ruffians wetl knew. If they would conceal their ry victims they must do so without delay. No he knowing how soon others would appear upon the scene, and in another encounter they might get the worst of it. “What now, Hank?’ Bob inquired. **To th’ old well,” was the whispered answer, “and quick about it, too.” “Which first?” 1 _ Th’ gent,” was the reply, and as he spoke re the leading rascal laid hold upon Mr, Paul’s cS shoulders and partly lifted him. Th other grasped his feet, and they at once corel the unconscious man into the adjacent ome ‘Is he dead?’ queried Bob. ai If he ain’t now he soon will be,” was Hank’s ‘ m answer, Lae Fo _“ But hadn’t we better be sure?” the other in- Fad) 4 “Tt will be a sure thine as ¢ | him inter th’ hole, an’ here ee be.” art chet Evidently they hed visited tne old well pre- ck” V2008 to their attack: upon their victim, for they f had now gone straight to it and the boards were already eres taeny pis Without any hesitation they carried the m forward to the dismal hole, held bim for the second, and then down they let him drop. Me Mr. Paul was just on the point of regaining Consciousness, and in a few inoments more | might bave offered further resistance that would have cost him his life. att As it was, he fortunately fell into a sitting attitude, and when he plunged into the cold roc Hee ter his senses returned qe : ; € was unhurt, beyond @ Severe shock, and soon partly realized what had taken place, ’ Th part of their hellish work performed, the murderers were about to return for the old ler, to serve him in like Manner, when cne paused and suggested the heinous plan of hi og him up on the mail-stand. This was agreed to. } oa Tia up the well they went back to the Psi, road, up the body of the old carrier, tak- ata. mg vr mail-bag, too, and carried it to the mail- petit, ° a. , ree after a moment’s careful listening to emselves that no one was SOO pack. iy ‘on eiy : : : J, aes be : MURER CER RURE EU cs a Mart, the Night Express Detective. PF at 18 re! oy 1: ~ Seri ad a gntis f 9 put a rope around its neck, and, as soon as they had discovered how, bung it in this manner up- on the mail-stand arm. CHAPTER X. NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION. HAVING now, to a great extent, brought the past up to the present in our romance, let us hasten back to the old well. ‘¢ But, lad, how to get out of here?” was what M. Henry Paul said to Mail-boy Mart, when they bad secured the damp mail-bags upon each other’s shoulders, And that was the puzzling question. It was next to an impossibility for them to do so, if not quite one. The well was about twenty feet deep, ata guess, and its circular wall was perfectly smooth and moss-grown. They had nothing that could be of any assist- ance to them. Only a few short pieces of rotten wood were to be found, and they were of no use whatever. Feeling with their feet around the bottom, they found a short piece of chain, but that could not be made use of in any way that they could think of, No, like rats in a trap, it seemed as though they were helplessly imprisoned. ** Well,” commented Mail-boy Mart, ‘it is a good deal ter be thankful for that we’re alive, but life in such a hole as this is only an aggrava- tion, I dunno but Ill jist say ter myself, ‘ Here goes nobody,’ sink under water, an’ give up th’ ghost.” Mr. Paul laughed. ‘““We are certainly in a terrible fix,” he agreed, ‘* but we must not give up. I baveseen every part of the known world, my lad, and have more than once been in a tight place, but I have always come out all right, This old well may prove our grave, but I sball fight for life to the last moment.” “* Well, if you mean ter stick it out as long as ye kin, I s’pose I might as well do th’ same. It ain’t ter be supposed, though, tat I kin stand it as long as you kin.” “Tt is live or die together, my lad,” was the answer, ‘so braca up and steel your nerves, I shall hold you out of water as long as I can stand.” ‘* Which won’t ba long, I’m afraid.” ** Perhaps not; but let me think.” * All right, think all ye want ter. I’m mum. If yekin think o’ some way out o’ this fix yell do more’n I kin, an’ I shail be heartily obliged ter ye; good gracious, yes!” For a long time both were silent. Every moment was an age to Mail-boy Mart, and he was chilled to the bone. He felt that ere long he would have to give up and lean upon his stronger companion, At last Mr. Paul exclaimed: ‘*T have it!” “T ho ter goodness ye have,” declared Mart, ‘* fer I’m about dead.” - Yes,” continued his fellow prisoner, “I have an idea which is worth the trying, but it all depends on you.” “On ma!” the boy exclaimed in surprise, “*- Yes,” was the assurance, ‘ upon you.” ‘* An’ what be I to do?” Mart inquired. ‘* Can you climb, do you think?” ** Climb!” “ es. ” “Climb what?” “A rope.” ‘Good gracious! if there’s a rope here why didn’t you mention it long ago?” “There isn’t any here, my lad, but if you think you have enough strength to climb to the top of this well, I will make one. It is barely possible that I can do the work myself, but I fear not. You are much lighter.” ‘Lord love ye, Mr. Paul,” said Mart, in earn- est tones, ‘if you'll show me th’ rope to climb, I'll climb it or die tryin’.” “ Brave boy!” “But, where is tl? rope ter come from?” Mart douhtingly questioned. “Tsee you doubt me,” said Mr. Paul, “but Thave thought the plan out carefully. In the first-place, we must cut open one of these mail- bags—both, in fact, and empty the contents of one bag into the other.” T see! I see!" exclaimed the boy; an’ then cut th’ empty bag inter strips an’ make a rope of’em! But, it won’t work, It might do if we wanted ter climb down, but we don’t; we want ter climb uP.” | ‘Just so, my boy, and that is the hardest rat mt juld think. But, let’s hear th’ 0 yer plan,” we ~ a ee ee A a t orer palais “Well, having cut one bag into strips and made our rope,so much will be done. Then will come the climbing. Now on each of these bags is a strap witn a strong steel hasp on one end. These straps we will cut off, and 1 will se- cure them to your arms. You will feel iora crevice between the bricks, stick one hasp into it as far as you can, and then pull yourself up a little way. Then you must reach up with the other arm, find another crevice, and stick in the other hasp. And so on to the top. You will carry the rope with you, and once at the top you must secure one end of it so that it will bear my weight, and then my escape, tco, will be as- sured, Can you do it ?” Mail-boy Mart was astounded. Here was a plan, certainly a simple one--if it could be car- ried out, and he would never have thought of it. e Verily, ‘* Necessit tion,” and happy is he tion is well developed. ‘‘If I was in good trim,” said Mart, “I think Ll could do it easy; but as it is, I’m ready ter drop now. Ill try it, though, all th’ same, an’ do my best.” ‘‘No man can do more. You see, the hasps would not, I fear, bear my weight, so our hope rests on you.” ‘Tl do it,” declared Mart, firmly, “or I'll die. Get ready th’ rope.” ““Nobly said!” exclaimed Paul, in earnest tones. “Carry the rope to the top and fix it there so I can get out, or else go for help, in case the rope fails us, and you shall never need to work another hour as long as you live.” The first step was to take the mail-bags from their shoulders. This was soon done, and then Mr. Paul cut a slit in each, near the top. This done, Mart held one bag up while his companion carefully transferred the letters, papers, etc., into 1t from tbe other. One bag was soon empty, as neither had con- tained a great amount. When this was done, Mr. Paul cut the entire top from the one containing the mail. Then be cut a large round hole in the bag, through both sides, put his head through it, and swung the bag around upon his back, thus making the neatest kind of a pouch and cne that was con- venient to carry. “]t isa serious offense to open the mail,” he remarked as he worked, “but stern necessity compels, We will take good care of the matter, though,” he added; ‘‘ itis only the pouch we are in need of.” When the mail bad been cared for, as shown, the top of the other bag was cut off in the same manner. Working in the dark, as they were, the pro- posed tesk was by no means an easy one to ac- complish. Suddenly Mr. Paul paused in his work and gave an exclamation of almost despair. ‘* Tt is useless!” he cried. *‘ Don’t fer goodness’ sake say that!” came in- stantly from Mart. ‘“* What is wrong?’ ** How are we to get the locks off, so that we can get the hasps free? I did not think of this before.” Mart uttered a groan. Was their plan, after all, to prove useless?) At first blush it seemed so, for without the two steel hasps they could do nothing, and they certainly could not remove the locks from the staples. What was to be done? “PHl tell ye,” said Mart, after a moment’s thought, “*mebby ye kin cut. th’ staples out an’ then git th’ hasps off from th’ other end regard- less 0’ th’ lock. “ Just what I was thinking about. I will - it, and do the best Ican. Wemust get them o somehow.” Mr. Paul was, most fortunately, vided with a good knife, and he set to work imme- diatelv. First he cut loose the strap from the end fur- thest from the hasp, and drew it out of the eye- lets. Then he attacked the staple. To cut it out was but a few moments’ work, but to free — the hasp from it was something more, dj ly held the other things while he was at work. “Tf I could only see,” the worker complained *“T could make better headway, but I suppose i must do the best Ican. I have the leather all off the ends now, but the big rivet-stops will not allow the bhasp to come off. It is most dis- couraging.” 7 ‘Can't ye break th’ staple by pullin’ it open is the mother of Inven- whose ‘‘ bump” of inven- an’ shut?” t suggested. Cag “ Happy thought! I can try it, at least. And it he did. could not, at first,even bend the stout
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iron, being unable to get sufficient hold upon the short ends, When he ran the strap through, however, and pulled both ways with that, he opened the stubborn staple readily enough. hen, by closing it and opening it repeatedly, he worked patiently to break it in two. And finally he succeeded. It gradually be- came easier and easier to bend, and at last it broke and the hasp was free. “Victory!” Paul exclaimed, in a glad tone. ** And now for the other.” The same amount of work had to be expended again, but the success was assured and it seemed easier to do. Both hasps and straps were now free. ‘*Here, my lad, hold them,” said Mr. Paul, ‘*and I will hasten to make the rope.” Mart took them, and at once began to fumble around the circular wall of their prison. “What are you doing?” asked Paul, as he heard him. : * T thought I'd try ’em,” responded the boy. ‘* Well, let me secure them to your arms, then. It will serve to keep your blood warm, the exercise, and you may be able to make some progress,” Securely fastening the straps to the boy’s arms, so that they could not be Jeft in the wall above reach in case he should slip, he let him try them while he prepared the rope. Mr. Paul had already tested the strength of the hasps, and felt sure that they would not bear his weight. While Mart was busy, he hastened with his tas K, Cutting the bag into long strips, a slow and tiresome piece of work, he next joined the ends of the strips to form the rope. Meanwhile, Mail-boy Mart had succeeded in climbing up six feet or more, and was bang- ing by bis arms to rest, the hasps firmly se- cured. **T'm so far, anyhow,” he panted. “Do you think you can climb to the top, my brave boy?’ Paul asked. “Well, I reckon I'll have ter, after I git out o’ your reach,” was the reply, ‘‘ for I won't be alle to pull both hasps out at th’ same time ie True enough, and I almost fear to let you try it. if Well, somethin’ has got ter be did, that’s flat; an’ you kin bet I won’t back out o’ doin’ my share. You've invented th’ means, an’ now it is fer me ter do th’ rest. Boost me up now, an’ help me down so’s I kin rest a little, an’ then = soon as that rope is ready, ll git down ter iz! Mr. Paul did so, and Mart soon found himself seated upon his strong shoulders. ** T will not let you down into the water again,” he said, ‘‘ for you are now warm and that would chill you worse tnan ever. Yousit there and rest while I make the rope.” CHAPTER XI. HOW THE PLAN WORKED. Mar-Boy Mart had never felt so grateful to astranger before, and, with tears springing to his eyes, he resolved to do his best to reach the top of the old well and thus prove that be was made of the right metal. In no other way could Mr. Paul hope to es- cape, fora few hours in that cold water must prove fatal. ‘*T will rescue him,” Mart repeated over and over again, mentally, ‘‘ or I will die a-tryin’.” And the boy meant it. Never before had he felt so thankful for a chance to sit down, and his strength returned rapidly. e was sitting astride the man’s neck, with his legs hanging in front, and he could feel the man’s arms busy at work, ‘Mr. Paul,” he presently said, ‘I must be too heavy. You can’t work. Let me down.” ** No, no,” was the short reply, ‘‘ only sit still and be still. I can’t talk now.” ** But you'll tire out, an’—” ‘No, no, not a word. Take a good rest, for your work is to come.” Mart realized this full well, so he took the man’s advice, and leaning back against the wall, folded his arms, The man’s strong arms worked constantly, and not for a single moment did Mart feel bim stop. The putting togetber of the pieces would have been an easy task under favorable conditions, but im this case it was anything else. All that needed to be done was to cut aslit in each end of each piece and then put each through the otber and pull the joint tight—almost ever boy who ever broke a skate-strap knows how it an Tele eat ts a Sie ee ee a ike the ee, +f. Mart, the Night Express Detective. | is done—but there were many pieces, and all 4 In a short time the contrivance was ready, things considered it required a long time and | and once more Mail-boy Mart undertook his much patience. But at last it was done, and, with a long sigh of relief, Mr. Paul straightened up. ** Done at last,” be said. “*Good!” cried Mart, ‘‘ an’ I am well rested. I am ready for another climb.” ‘* Well, you shall have it, and I hope it may prove a successful one, For my part, I am ‘well’ tired.” ** An’ no wonder,” said Mart, ‘‘ holdin’ me an’ workin’, too.” Mart had failed to catch the inner meaning of the remark. ‘“* Now, my lad, pay attention,” said Paul. ‘I have been thinking as well as working, and I have found the means for you to descend for another rest, in case you tire out, or in case you find a place where you. cannot search out a chink into which to get a hold with the hasps.” ** You have?’ questioned Mart; ‘‘ then you are a boss at inventin’. But, go on.’ ‘*T will loop this rope over one of your arms. In case you have to come down, all you will have to do will be to slip the rope from your arm to the hasp, taking care to make it secure, and descend by it. Do you understand?” “IT reckon I do, but I hope I won’t have to use it. Fasten it on, now, an’ I'll start.” Mr. Paul slipped the rope over the boy’s arm, then, and the boy grasped his ‘‘ climbers ” firmly and felt for the crevices into which he had put them before. He soon found them, and pulled himself up. His fellow prisoner helped bim up to the next reaches, by pushing his feet, and then Mart was left to work alone. ‘* Now for it, iad,” Mr. Paul said, ‘‘and God assist you.” ‘“T mean ter make th’ top,” Mart declared, ‘if my arms hold to my body.” And up he started. It was comperatively easy for a few minutes, while he was fresh for the work, but his arms soon began to tire and his breathing to grow labored. Fortunately he found places easily into which to secure new holds, and he took care not to re- move his supporting climber until the other was firmly fixed. It was uot long when he had to put both irons into the same chink end hang down at arm’s- length to rest—if resting it could be called. After a few moments’ pause he started on, but bad only gained a few inches when he had to me 7 ae ith a feeling of horror he realized that it was a task beyond his strength. Suddenly a new thought came to him, and in faint tones he called out: Mr, Paul, ’'m comin’ down.” ‘* Heavens! do you have to give up?” the man | exclaimed d »spairingly. ‘*No,” returned Mart, ‘but I can’t do it this way. Dve got a new idea.” ** Well, come down, but be sure you make the se secure,” bis the boy was already doing. He had fixed his climbers firmly, and soon had the rope secured to them, He now slipped the knots and removed the straps from his arms, and began to descend. Mr. Paul was ready to catch him as before, ‘Well, my lad,” he remarked, ‘‘ what is the trouble?” ‘Th’ trouble is my arms,” Mart replied. “I climbed till I couldn’t climb another inch, and I had ter stop, I couldn’t raise myself again to save me, an’ th’ ropes got so tight around my arms that I hadn’t no feelin’ in em.” ‘“*Then we are doomed,” said Mr. Paul, in a tone of despair, ‘‘ unless we can hold out as we are until daylight. and then by shouting can make some one hear us.” ‘* Which ain’t likely,” said Mart, “ fer this old well seemed ter me ter be in an awful lonesome place. Besides, I know I couldn’t stand it till daylight. But we won't say ‘die’ yet; good- gracious, no! I’ve got another little plan in my noodle,” ‘** And what is it?” “Ttis jest this: I want you to take a piece off o’ th’ end o’ this rope an’ put a big loop in it fer my feet, at one end, an’ a little loop at th’ otker end, fer th’ hasp, Then I kin rest my arms as often 93 I like, an’ I bet I'll get there next, time, sure pop!” = My boy, you have hit upon a good plan,” said Mr. Panl, joyfully. “Sit still on my shoulders and I will prepare the patent resting- rope. Now escape seems certain, and all thanks pad as Only get me out of here, and I shall not forget my promise,” 4 ; i task. He was quite rested again, and climbed up the rope, hand over hand, to the point where it was secured, quite easily. That point reached, he put his ‘‘ patent rest- ing-rope ” to use at once, and it proved an ex- cellent thing. Now he could use his bands and arms more freely. How carefully he had to work can be im- agined. The slightest false move would precipi- tate him to the bottom again, and then, even though fortunate enough not to get hurt, all chance of escape would - lost, Taking a good rest, he arranged the straps upon his arms again with care, and then, with a cheering word to Mr. Paul, pulled out one of the climbers and felt for a new hold. Thanks to the foot-rest, too, he could now reach much bigher than hefore, ut, having shown the ingenious plan of es- cape from a trap where escape seemed an utter impossibility, it is not necessary to follow the brave boy step by step to the top, which he finally reached, after a long and trying strug- le. en Hurrah!” he shouted, then, ‘I’m at th’ top at last!” ‘* Thank God!” came from below. ‘‘ Any rope left down there?” Mart asked. ‘ Plenty of it,” wastbe reply. ‘Take a rest now, my brave lad, and then see if you can get out. And above all things use care.” “You bet I'll be careful. I don’t want to get down inter that hole again if I kin help it.” The boy rested for a few minutes, and then prepared to get out. hen he came to try to remove the boards, however, he found that he could not lift them, He had to use one band, the other band and his feet being needed to sustain him upon his ticklish perch. Here was an unforeseen obstacle. ‘“‘Mr. Paul,” he called down, “ here is another diffikilty. I can’t push away th’ heavy boards.” ‘You can’t?” ** No,” ‘* That is bad? ‘* Bless me if I know. trial, anyhow.” The result was the same. Placed at such a disadvantage, the boards were too much for the boy’s strengt “T can’t do it,” he declared, ‘‘can’t even budge ’em.” “Tl tell you, my lad,” called up Mr. Paul, ‘see if you can fasten the rope securely around one of the boards, If so, I can climb up.” “Bully! Didn’t think o’ that, Hold on jest two seconds, an’ I'l] see what kin be did.” Taking a firm hold, Mart leaned out and felt all around overhead. Soon he found a place where he could put his hand up between the boards on each side of a strong and narrow one.” — This, he thought, was just what he wanted, and taking the rope, holding it in bis teeth at some distance from the end, so that be could not drop it, he tried to pass the end up and over the board, It was some minutes before he succeeded, but he did succeed at last, and then he carefully made it secure. ““Now, Mr. Paul,” he directed, ‘‘ try it.” ““Youw’re sure it’s fast?’ his fellow-prisoner uestioned. ar Sure pop. If th’ board holds th’ rope will, you bet.” , “ Well, look out for yourself now, in case the board comes down.” “ All right, let ’er go.” Mart heard the board creak, then, as Mr. Paul ut his weight upon it. i After two or three good trials of its strength, Mr. Paul said: ‘*That seems all solid, my come,” In a few moments he was at the top. ‘‘ Now,” he said, ‘‘iet us both push togetber, and we'll see if something won’t give way.” This they did, and one of the widest and heaviest boards was lifted and thrown back. ‘* Good!” cried Mart, “Good, indeed!” echoed Mr. Paul a Now, out with you, lad, and then low. : Mart obeyed, the man assisting him, and then the man climbed out. > ; ““Thank God we are free,” the latter sai fervently. ‘‘ What seemed impossible at fi has been accomplished, thanks to him who gave us our faculties.” What is to be done now?” Tll give it one more boy, and up I \ ad é I will fol- ;
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eg org Gr — err * 27 bth ot te elt et a aren 2 11 q ied 4 — Mart, the Night Express Detective. Mr. Paul smiled at his earnestness, ‘‘Perhaps I can inform you, if my watch has escaped injury, for it, too, is water-proof.” He drew it from his pocket and held it to his ear. It was running. “It is a quarter past two,” he said. ** Good!” cried Mart, ‘‘ that gives me a Mr. Paul quickly drew up the rope then, and With nervous haste she proceeded to light the F removed it from the board, and removed also | lantern she carried, and that done, she tied the the climbers Mart bad used. Then he replaced | end of the rope to it and let it down into the the boards, and taking Mart by the hand, both | dark hole. hurried away from the scene. Many a time when a school-girl she had Barely ten minutes had they been gone, when | stopped at this old well to get a drink, on her a woman came to the old well. She wasclad in | way to and from school, but that was years adark dress, and had a shawl over head and | agone. She remembered it, and knew just about uar- ter of an hour or so to catch th’ train, an’ I’ll do iy think of nothing but him.” | in the well, and has escaped. Who can it have ** You have brains, my boy, and your ideas : is Presently she turned to the mantle, and stood | been? Here are prints of a man’s wet feet. Yes, | aresound. I have not one word to say against 15 and gazed fixedly at the photograph of a hand- | and here are other foot-marks—those of a boy. | your pian. But you must promise me one Re some, noble-faced boy for a long time. | I must know more about this. Here, Rover, | thing. At last she turned away with a sigh, with | where are you? Here, scent these tracks, and ‘** An’ what is that?” tears in her eyes, and, taking up her lamp, put | follow.” “That is—that you will come back here it down upon the floor beside her trunk. When the dog ran up its mistress fastened the | some time to-morrow.” | Then she sat down and threw the lid of the | rope to its collar, and then replacing the board, “Tl do it.” * ‘trunk open. bade the dog go forward, she holding the rope ‘Very well, then, prepare your torch, and - In one end wasasmall box, and from this | in order not to lose him. while you are doing that I'll search out my let- i she took a bundle of letters, all tied up with the At first the dog was inclined to bay, but she | ter. You may look another way, and you will 4 greatest care, silenced it, and then followed where it silently | not see me take it. Rest assured that I shall ¢ Untying them, she opened and began to read | led. take only what is rightly mine.” Y them, one by one. In the mean time, when they had started “Tm not lookin’,” said Mart, “I’m busy as They were letters from every land, and bore | away from their late prison, Mail-boy Mart | kin be.” 4 post-marks the most curious and rare. asked Mr. Paul where he was going. Taking the pouch of mail from his shoulders Silently she read on and on, sometimes a “* | was just glancing around to see where we | Mr. Paul basuly searched for and soon foun smile playing fora moment over her face, but | are,” was the answer, “and I find you were | the important letter, and laid it aside. oftener with tears dropping from her eyes. right. We were in that old well near the sta- ‘**Is your torch ready?” he asked, then, rs On and still on she read, until at last her eyes | tion. I know the place, for many a time— But, ‘* Yes, all ready,” rt answered, ‘‘an’ so grew heavy and her head began tc droop, and | you asked where P am going.” o By ’ at last she leaned back against the wall and You) sles ‘Then let me put this mail-pouch on your slept. “ T will tell you, my brave lad. I know where | back, the same as I had it; there, that is right; hen she awoxe, an hour later it was with a | there is an old cabin in the woods not far from | and here is my match-box. Can you find your 55 ery and a start. here, and as I want to remain in hiding for a | way?” . pringing up, she pressed her hands to her | day or so, we will go there, if you are willing to ‘* Yes, I know which side th’ railroad is on, ‘ head, looked around confusedly, and ques- | go with me.” an’ that is all that’s necessary.” tioned: | ‘An’ I am, you bet. [’m with ye, every ““T will go with you, if—” “Have I been asleep? and was it alla dream? time. Only for you I’d be a dead boy now.” ‘No, no, *tain’t necessary. An’ now I'll be No, no, it was all too real. It was more thap a ‘** And but for you, I would still be at the bot- | off, or I'll be too late. Good-by, an’ take care dream, I saw him plainly, just as I used to | tom of the old well.” : ° yerself. I'll be back ter-morrer.” 5 know him—just as he looks there,” glancing at ‘*T don’t know whether ye would or not,” *Good-by, lad,” responded Mr. Paul, “and we the photograph on the mantle, ‘and I know it | Mart opposed. ‘‘ You're such a ripper at in- | good luck attend you. ou will find me here.” was more than a dream. 1 saw him thrown in- | yentin’, mebby you'd ’a’ hit upon some other With these parting words, Mart left the cabim ¢ to that old well in the field near the station, and | plan afore long. and hurried away into the darkness, 2 _ then I saw him at the bottom, with bis arms ‘*Impossible. I could have done nothing stretched out toward me. What canit mean?’ | without you.” CHAPTER XIII She passed to and fro several times, and then ‘*Then we’ll have to say much obliged to each 4 : stop short, : other, I reckon, an’ call it square,” MAIL-BOY MART AHEAD. iu will fo there,” she decided. ‘I will call| ‘*We can say ‘much obliged.’ but that will| ‘‘ BRAVE-HEARTED boy!” Mr. Paul exclaimed, KA. father— No, I must goalone. He would think | not square my indebtedness to you. I shall | when he was gone, “he shall be well rew. “a it all nonsense, and might forbid my going. I | never be able to repay—” for this night’s work. But for him I would still Pe will take Rover and go at once.” ES. Say,” Mart interrupted, ‘let's talk "bout | be at the bottom of that old well, and perhaps hs Hurriedly she donned her clothes, and taking | sometbin’ else. How far is it ter that old | dead.” ; up her lamp and turning it low, opened her door | cabin?” Throwing more wood upon the fire, he stood is and glided silently from her room and down the ‘‘Not far, as I told you. It is only a little | before its friendly blaze to dry his clothes, . stairs. distance in the woods, and we shall soon be| For some minutes he stood silent, and then he Making ber way to the kitchen, she there pro- | there.” spoke aloud his thoughts, } vided herself with a lantern, which she did not | So they talked, of one thing and another, and He did not hear the footsteps outside, or see z then light, and a rope, and then throwing a_ in due time the cabin was reached. the woman who peered in at one of the open ; shaw] over ber head and shoulders, went outand | And it was an old one indeec. It had neither | windows. e locked the door afier her, door nor windows, and its roof could not be ex-| This was Doxie Howell, and, holding her dog : There was instantly a deep grow] from a big | pected to afford much shelter against a storm, | close beside her, she stood as silent and motion- nt doz, but a word from her silenced the animal, | being full of holes. less as a statue. , and going to its house she unfastened its chain “ Here we will build a fire,’ Mr. Paul an- ‘“The end is at hand,” Mr. Paul said, as he } and Bade it follow her. nounced, ‘‘and make ourselves as comfortable fixedly at the floor, ‘‘and the truth shall as Perbaps the dog understood from the manner | as a pair of tramps. Many a time, when a boy, | be made known at last. When I returned home. --—-_—sof.its mistress that she wanted it to be silent, for | have I made a fire in this old cabin and warmed | four years ago, I_ found my place already filled while it leaped gladly around her it did notutter | myself when out bunting. But the cabin had | by another, who laughed me to scorn. 1 could ss @ sound, and her whispered ‘ Silence, Rover!” | doors and windows, then, and was a more com- | do nothing. No proof bad I, and James Ham- ss Seed to be entirely unnecessary, fortable place.” mond triumphed. I went away as quietly as I hae , Howell Farm, by the way, was on the| ‘I don’t see how we kin make a fire,” ob- | had come, but with the resolve in my heart to ss South side of the railroad, and fully a mile from | served Mart. ‘* Where is th’ matches ter come | teat him from the place he usurped and claim — . Pe the town, Hence it was about half a mile from | from?” my rights. For four years I have worked un- 7 fe the station. ‘‘T have a water-proof box in my pocket.” tiringly, and now success is mine, But I must Er. Doxie knew every inch of the country for ‘‘Oh! I see.” be careful now. He knows my secret, and this - (ao $ around. It did not take long to find enough wood to | night’s work shows me what I must expect from . a ; once down the lane to the main road | start a fire with, and as soon as its light blazed | bim. He made a bold stroke to put me out of a. she ned toward the station without hesitancy | up the two strangely-met friends looked at each the way, and destroy the proofs, but he failed oak or fear, the faithful dog following at her heels, | other, and— But, how did he know about the letter? : ie Nothing worthy of mention occurred on the |“ You are a likely-looking boy,” Mr. Paul ob- | By heavens! there is a traitor somewhere, and | ___ way, and in due time she reached her destina- | served. “and I like you.” he had better take care, And Doxie— Ah! “| © tion as shown, .,* An’ you,” returned Mart, ‘look a good deal | wait a little longer, faithful, patient heart! and | ___ No answer came to her inquiry, and she called | like th’ Mr. Paul that stopped th’ train, but I | you shall know that I am the one for whom you. eM Ty soy onsdown thai ida ag oe” abioce Terese teataos | a someey talliha Galatia: ae hte ” thi d gi nD ow ou m. was a Wo-. ; Still no response, years? 0 this afore? I'd give fourtee cry sta shoulders. Witb eager haste she lifted one of | how deep it was. it.” > the lighter boards from its place, and, stooping When she knew the lantern must be near to ‘*Do what— catch what train—what are you down, called: the water, sho let out the rope more slowly, and a ¢ about?’ : ‘* Is any one down there?” peered down. “Til tell ye. Ye see th’ Night Express is due The woman was—Doxie Howell. CHAPTER XII. DOXIE HOWELL’S DREAM. Doxiz How8 Lv had retired that night at ber usual hour, but for some time was unable to fall asleep. Her thoughts were far away. Finally she got up again, lighted her lamp and sat down to read until she should fee sleepy. ‘ She read, or tried to read, for a few minutes, and then gave it up and threw aside the book. ‘How strange it is,’she muttered, as she | dream, rose and began to pace the floor, ‘‘ that I can | In a moment more its light fell upon the water. Then she moved it to and fro, so that she might see every part of the bottom. She could see distinctly, and there was no one there. “There is no one there, Rover,” she said aloud, ‘* and we have had our walk for nothing. But, oh! I had to come, after that startling It would have haunted me all night.” She pulled up the lantern and wound up the rope, and was about to replace the board when she noticed wet marks upon it. With beating heart she looked more closely, ‘* Heavens!” she gasped, ‘‘ some one has been Wages ter know what time it is!” t back here about half-past two, an’ 1 kin go out to th’ railroad an’ stop her an’ git aboard. I kin take this mail with me, bein’ a regular car- rier, an’ give it to Prenty, th’ agent. Then I kin tell what I know about Bob an’ Hank, th’ murderers, an’ mebby they kin be ketched afore they git out o’ Jersey,” ‘* A good idea—a splendid idea, my lad, and I admire your pluck,” said Mr. Paul. ‘‘ But how will you stop the train?” “‘That’s easy done. Tom Burgess always has his eye peeled fer danger ahead, an’ there ain’t nary a lightnin’-bug flies "cross th’ track that he ‘don’t see. I'll take a torch o’ this fat pine, an’ I'll stop him, you bet.” man’s voice, and was like a scream and a groan,
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RAPS poe ARNE VOY. OR 3 Ns ada cae St tate oie. nad ¢ mingled. And it was instantly followed by the loud, deep-mouthed bay of a dog. Snatching a brand from the fire, Mr. Paul sprung to the door and looked out. There, upon the ground, lay Doxie Howell, and standing over her was her big dog, Rover. ** My God!” Mr. Paul cried, as he threw away the brand and sprung to lift her up, ‘‘ can it be Doxie Howell, and here at this hour? What can it mean?” Tenderly he lifted her up and carried her into the old cabin, and laid her gently down, And then he rubbed her hands to aid in restoring her y consciousnesss, Presently she opened her eyes, and as they met those of Mr. Paul, she exclaimed: ** St Edmund !” ‘** Doxie!” he responded. He assisted her to rise, and then found a large piece of wood for her to sit down upon. The cabin being destitute of furniture, it was the best he could do. Then he sat down upon the floor beside her, taking her hand. Mutual explanations followed. **Anidid you not suspect who I was?” Mr. Paul (so we will for the present still call him) asked. ‘*Not once,” answered Doxie, truthfully. ** Why did you not tell me!” ** Becanse I wanted to wait to surprise you. But, Doxie, what is your answer to ‘ Mr. Paul’ now?” Doxie’s fingers closed over his hand in a fond clasp, and her head drooped a little, but she an- swered: “Tt is the same as before.” ‘* What! Doxie! you do not refuse me!” ‘*As Mr. Paul—yes. My hand and heart ; have long been another’s, and to him I must re- main true.” * Ah! little rogue, I see!” and catching her to his breast be pressed a kiss to her lips, forgetting all about his wet clothes, 1 And he added; ‘“*And [should have been rescued from my prison anyhow, and by you. Lamalmost sorry, now, that it was not so. But, you must not re- main here, Doxie. I will accompany you home, and—” } * And remain there,” Doxie finished. ‘‘ You shall have dry clothes anda nice bed at once, and— “But, I want to remain here in hiding, and—” zy ‘* Our house is a better place.” “ But, my boy rescuer will return here to find me, and then—” ‘*T willsend our chore-boy to stay here to meet him.” hi “ Still, I—” s ** Not another word. We will go at once.” Be ** Well, since you insist upon it, and set aside every objection I can raise, I will go and stay. . Here, please to take charge of this letter, as my clothes are so wet. It contains papers that will _ restore me to my rights,” 4 ‘*T will not lose it.” Mr. Pau! then broke down the fire he had built and scattered the brands, and then he set out to accompany Doxie home. As they were leaving the cabin the rumble of a train was heard, pose Mr. Paul stopped to lis- ten. Presently came a short, sharp whistle to } stop, and the rumble ceased. A moment later. iF two short whistles sounded, the engine puffed } vigorously, and with rumble and roar the train sped on. “Brave boy!” Paul exclaimed; ‘‘ he bas ac- ‘ complished his purpose.” | eee Then, as he walked on by the side of the er? woman be loved, he told her all he could about Be, Mail-boy Mart and their thrilling adventure. ' When they reached Doxie’s home, Mr. Howell ‘ was called up and everything explained to him, and of course ‘‘ Mr, Paul” was made heartily welcome. : af But to return to Mart. , He found his way to the railroad all right, and Baer 4 lighting one of his pine sticks, sat down to wait for the train, At last it came in sight, and then up the boy sprung and ane to wave his torch to and fro - across the track, o> t He was soon seen, and the engineer whistled _ “* brakes,” shut off steam, and stopped. me) ‘** Well, what in blazes bas broke loose now?” BaF _ he demanded, as the engine stopped. ee Sat “Tt’s all right, Tom!” cried Mart, as he = clambered aboard the engine. ‘ It’s only me, an’ I stopped ye ter git aboard. Pull out an’ let ooh, it is th , it’s you, is it, you young rat?” the engi- heer exclaimed, and branes the throttle a il have been piayin’ detective, an’ have made a ten-strike,” ‘* What do te mean by that?” Mart gave Burgess a hurried outline of it all, and then climbed back over the tender and en- tered the cars. In the first car he met Weston, the conductor, who was just going over to ask the engineer what he had stopped for. ‘* He'lo!” he exclaimed, as he saw it was Mart; “ where we ae come from?” ‘*T stopped the train an’ got aboard,” the boy confessed. ‘“ What!” cried Weston, “you stopped this train just to get aboard?” ‘* Exactly. Ye see Dve recovered th’ mail, an’ lye got a clew to th’ murderers of Old Roger.” ‘* You have?” Mart assured him of the fact, and then gave him all the particulars. ‘*This is important,” Weston then agreed. ‘* If those two rascals meant to steal a ride in on a freight, we may be able to catch them at the ferry, unless they have already crossed. I will go over and tell Burgess to stop at the first open telegraph office we come to, and there I'll tele- graph to Headquarters.” So saying, the conductor went out and over to the engine, while Mart made his way to the mail-room. Prentiss, the agent, was enjoying a cigar, having but little todo on the eastward trip as compared with the westward. ‘‘ Hello! Prenty, how ye was?” cried Mart, as he flung open the door and entered. ‘*Great stars!” the agent exclaimed, ‘‘is it you, Mart?” ‘‘T reckon it is, what is left of me,” the boy answered. ‘‘ Where in the world have you been, and what have you been doing?” ‘*Pve been down to Springside, playin’ detec- tive, as I said I was goin’ to.” ‘You look as though you had been in a spring.” ‘** So I bave-—or rather a well.” ‘““The deuce! and was it you stopped the train?” ** You bet!” “ And what is this on your back?’ ‘That? that’s th’ U. S. Mail. Just left th’ bag over my head, will ye?’an’ ye kin have it. The agent complied, and then Mart went on and told him all about his might’s adventures, and all be could concerning the mystery at Springside, Prentiss was greatly interested, and expressed the wish that Mart’s clew might bring the mur- derers to account. When the boy had finished his narration, the agent examined the mail he had brought, and sorted it out so that 1t would reach its proper destination, ** Mart,” he suddenly observed, ‘that big letter, the one that man wanted so badly, is one.’ re That so?” queried Mart. ‘Perhaps it got lost in the well,” the agent suggested, **T don’t see how it could,” said Mart, ‘ for we took good care of it all.” Right or wroug, Mart knew that Mr. Paul had saved his life, and he was determined to know nothing about the missing letter. In the mean time the train had stopped at a telegraph office, and Conductor Weston had telegraphed to Headquarters, giving a descrip- of the murderers as he had received from art. When they arrived at Mapleton there was a telegram there for the conductor. It read as follows: ““Conpuctor WEsToN:— “ Two men answering description given have just been arrested ar te ferry. Bring the boy to Jersey City with you to identify them. **B Rowanp, Sup't.” The conductor made haste to find the boy be- fore be could get awav, told him what was wanted, and of course Mart was willing to go. He left word for his younger brother to attend to his duties v til his return, and then went back to the mail-room, When the train arrived in Jersey City he was taken at once to the room where the two men were being detained. The moment the door opened he recogni them, and they turned ghastly pale at sight of Gy Pre ie pry, Baie 4 on te es? t ee a a me ALLAN EE LI 2 BERIT: Gy SHE IE Se Sie SERIE BIR Mart, the Night Express Detective. angry jerk. ‘‘ You don’t want to count too | him, an incident that was not lost upon those’ much on its being ‘all right,’ for when Weston | present. gets hold of you he’ll take your scalp.” ‘*Do you recognize them?’ asked the officer ‘““No, I guess not,” returned Mart, ‘‘fer I | who had them in charge. “* Yes, sir,” answered Mart. ‘* Who are they?” ‘They are the murderers of Old Roger, the carrier, as Il heard them own. Thisone is called Hank and that one is called Bob,” Mart told his story again, and it could not be doubted. The men were held, r A visit to New York by the detective proved = = = them to be Bob Shiner and Hank Terry, both Bae old offenders. e Next day they were taken to Crawford’s and put into jail, Crawford’s, as mentioned, —_— the seat of the county in which the crime bh been committed; there to await trial. And in the mean time, by an earlier train, Mail-boy Mart had calieed to Springside to keep his appointment with Mr, Paul, CHAPTER XIV. PREPARING A SURPRISE, At an early bour that morning, about as soon as it was light, Detective Rayboid and the eager citizens of Springside were up and looking fora a clew to the mystery. Naturally, their first move was to visit the scene of the crime. : St. Edmund Dare was with the party, and was one of its most active members. ; It was the duty of every good citizen, he de- clared, to do his best to hunt the cowardly mur-- derer down and avenge the old carrier's death, 7 | and he was anxious to do his part. ee And be agreed with Raybold that thesudden disappearance of Mr. Paul from the hotel— , from the town, in fact—might have something to do with the crime. Hethoughtit would be | well to tind where Mr. Paul was, if possible. Fv There were some sharp eyesamong the search- : ers, Mr. Dare’s seeming about as sharpas the {ae sharpest, and the many tracks leading to aud ae. }, ; from the old well were soon found, i. ale Owing to the thick, dry dust in the road, =| nothing very definite could be made out ofthe tracks, butit was easy to trace them to the field and to the old well. St. Edmund Dare led the way to the well, — having called attention to the tracks, and in a few moments all the party were on the spot. Some hours had passed since the prisoners’ es- cape, and the wet marks seen by Doxie Howell = —_ on the boards could no longer be traced, Fite: But St. Edmund Dare’s preternaturally sharp ae eyes read signs in a way that caused Detective Raybold to open his less acute organs of vision in wonder. se te ‘¢ Some one has been here,” St, Edmund de- | clared. ‘‘See, these hoards have lately been aed moved. Here are marks of feet around the | well. J never knew the cattle to venture so | near. Iwas here only a few days ago, and these boards were nearly overgrown with grass, We must examine this well, gentlemen.” ~— ae are right,” agreed the at his reputation | ae was about toremark the same thing ‘““You are right, detective, feeling t stuke, ‘I but you got ahead of me. We must explore = opal “ed in yes : “ ‘ illing hands quickly remov e boards, and all looked down,in turn, Steel Of course they. could see nothing at the bot- “See how the moss is rubbed off the side — there,” St. Edmund quickly seid. ‘1 believe comes or somebody bas been thrown in _ ere.” HS “ Right, right,” agreed the detective, “‘and I am— FAD! what is this? aes 2 He stooped quickly and picked something» i lt was a knife. ~ Many of those present recognized it atonce, It belonged to M. Henry Paul. ay “There is a mystery kere. gentlemen, a More than mystery.” deciared St. Edmund nervously, “and I am more than anxious to find it out, — We want a rope.” ; ; Py ‘« There is une at the station,” said Jacobs, the agent, ‘I will bring it.” “rg iat He hastened away, «nd St, Edmund ‘Whatever this mystery is, that seems to be concerned in it, It is a ve affair,” ran y t soon returned with the rope,and St. Edmund asked who would be the man to go ’ down, ? mrs ‘*T will,” answered the detective, ‘‘Let me 3 have the rope.” ‘ Ree Taking ; 2 te
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13 it, about two feet apart, to make it easier to climb. That done, he secured one end to one of the strongest boards, laid the-board across the well, and then threw the rope down, Having made ready, he took off his hat and descended. When he reached the bottom he lighted matches to enable him to see around, and when he had satisfied bimself be returned to the top. St. Edmund, slightly pale and very anxious, was the first to demand: “Well, what is there?” “Two or three little things that I desire to rée- cover,” the detective replied. ‘I want a lan- tern, and a piece of strong wire about four feet long, with a hook at one end,” “You shall have them at once.” said the agent, and away he went to the station agaih. “There is no person Cown there, then?’ St. Edmund queried, more pale than ever. **No ” was the answer, “Well, 1 am glad, for I almost feared there might be, from all the marks we have seen.” t, Edmund, so we still call the arch rascal, was more uncomfortable in mind than he cared to have his companion see, He walked a littls distance away and back again, to calm his nerves. “Curse it!” he hissed, ‘‘can it be that they have played me false? I will know.” The agent soon returned with the two things the detective had called for, and again Raybold went down. When next he came up he had the two mail- bag locks, and the top piece of each bag contain- ing the iron eyelets. ‘** Here,” he said, ‘‘ is what I have found. This old well was chosen asa good place to conceal such damaging evidence. We detectives have a way of getting at secrets, though. Now, what with the sudden disappearance of Mr, Paul, and the finding of bis knife here, what are we led to suspect, gentlemen?” “That he, at the very least, has some im- portant knowledge ccncerning the crime,” de- clared St. Edmund at once. Most of the others, who knew Mr. Paul and had all confidence in him, expressed their belief that it was more likely that he, too, had met with foul play. Of course the question could not be settled then. It was now time for the station-agent to open his office for the business of the day, and so he left the party and went to his duties. When be “cut in” his telegraph instruments he found that some one wes ** calling ” him. He “answered” the call, and the follow- ing was what he copied from the clicking ‘“* sounder :” “To Jacop RayBoip:— “ (Inquire for at hotel.) “Murderers arrested, and are on the way here. One has confessed. Return, CorRoNER.” To say that this news created a sensation, is expressing it mildly. It caused a very furor of excitement. . And it was fortunate for St. Edmund that no one noticed him when the news reached him. His face was a picture of consternation and guilty fear. When the next train came along, which proved to be the one the prisoners were on, the detective, and several of the citizens, too, boarded it and went to Crawford's, St. Edmund Dare went home in no easy state of mind. Mail-boy Mart, by 28n earlier train, had al- ready arrived at Sptingside, and bad gone at once to the old cabin where Mr. Paul had prom- to wait for bim. No one was there. cc “ Well, I can’t ondersten’ this,” Mart reflect- ed, “fur I took Mr. Paul ter be a man o’ his word. There ain’t no disputin’ th’ fact that he ain’t here, though, au’ that’s plain. I wonder— 0! who be you?” This was addressed to a boy who made his ap- pearance at the door at thet moment. “Pm Howell’s boy,” was the reply. “ Are you called Mart?” . “T reckon lam. What of it?” “ Nothin’—only I was sent bere to wait for an’ When ye got here I was ter bring ye over to Howell’s, where Mr, Paul is.” “Oh, that’s th’ way th’ chicken flies, is it? Well, e ahead, an’ Pi foller ye.” The farmer's boy led the way, and Mart went along with him. ; hen he arrived at the Howell place, his friend, Mr. Paul, was there to greet him, and he was introduced to Mr, Howell and Doxie. ; ‘“ Well, my lad,” Mr. Paul asked, ‘“‘ what came of your venture? I know you got aboard the train all right, for 1 heard it stop and start on again.” “+ Dye got th’ best o’ news!” Mart exclaimed, ‘‘T told t.e conductor my little story, he tele- graphed ahead to Jersey City, an’ when we got to Mapleton there was a message there sayin’ two men had been arrested, an’ for me to come on an’ *dentify em. I went, an’ there was Hank an’ Bob, as big as life, An’ they’re now on th’ way to Crawforu’s, I reckon.” “You are a littlé wonder!” Mr. Paul cried. “You have done a remarkable piece of work, and the detectives will have good reason to en- vy you.” ‘“*[ can’t see as I’ve done anything so wonder- ful,” declared Mart, modestly. ‘‘I guess any other boy could ’a’ done as well.” ** T don’t agree with you, and I would like to know what has given you such sharp wits and sound ideas for a boy of your age.” ‘** Well,” Mart confessed, ‘‘I read a good deal, an’ when I get hold of a good idea, [ remember, it ‘Oh! Isee, What do you read?” ‘* Novels, mostly, s'r.” ‘“Novels! why, my boy, the newspapers are against—” ‘‘ T know they be,” Mart interrupted, warmly, ‘an’ it makes me tired. Did you ever read novels, Mr. Paul?” ‘“‘{ did, when a boy, a great many,” the gen- tleman confessed. ‘Did they make you bad?” ‘““Not a bit. On the other hand, they gave me much information.” ‘* Just so, exactly. Did you ever read one in which th’ good didn’t overcome th’ bad, an’ in which th’ evil wasn’t punished an’ honesty re- warded?” ‘* Never.” “ An’ don’t every one of ’em p’int out some good lesson, in some way or other?” ‘“*f believe you are right,” ** Just so; an’ that’s what makes me so mad. IT tell ye what it is, too. There is readin’ mat- ter, an’ lots of it, in every newspaper, that no writer could get published in a story, an’ that does more real barm than all th’ novels in th’ world. I tell ye if boys is bad naturally, an’ smoke, lie, steal an’swear, novels ain’t to blame, for they are against all such, right from th’ word ‘ go.’!” Mr. Paul had to smile at the boy’s earnest manner, ‘*Do your parents know what you read?” he asked, ** Pve got only a mother,” Mart replied, “ an’ she does, She buys ’em for me, too, an’ at nights I sit an’ read ’em, an’ she tells me what ti’ big words mean, an’ how to say ’em right. She knows somethin’, she does. But there’s Joe Hook, whose daddy won’t let him look at ’em even, he runs out every night, an’ last week he was arrested fer stealin’. [ tell ve it’s bein’ let to run wild, an’ th’ company he keeps, that spoils a boy; not what he reads. Excuse me fer talkin’ so strong-like, but I can’t help. Such howlin’ as [ hear an’ see, from folks that don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyhow, makes me tired; an’ I must say what I think, or bu’st.” ‘** And what does your mother say about the newspapers?” Mr. Paul asked. ‘* Well, she takes two good ones, weekly, but there’s lots of others that she won’t have in th’ house, Only t’other day I carried one home from th’ station, an’ lookin’ over it I found a word I didn’t know. I asked mother what it meant. She got fire red an’ said she couldn’t explain it, an’ that [ wasn't old enough to un- derstand it anyhow; en’ up she got an’ stuck that paper inter th’ stove, An’ that was one of th’ crack newspapers, too. AsI said afore, my mother’s got sense, an’ she says that one-balf th’ news that’s printed is too indecent to be used by body.” any y CHAPTER XV. THE TABLES ARE TURNED. Tue conversation between Mr. Paul and Mart ran on to some length, and the boy proved himself an able disputant, When they were done with the question, Mr Paul asked: “ By the way, is the arrest known here at Springside?” . “ Ob! it must be,” said Mart, “ for itis known all along the line.” * Then I must act at once, and I want you to dome a favor, I will writesome telegrams, Mart, the Night Express Detective. | | | which vou will please take to Mapleton with you and have them forwarded from there. Will you do this?” ‘* Certainly.” ‘““Very well. And then to-night, early, if you desire to know more about me, return bere aud accompany Mr. and Miss Howell to my house.” ‘** Dll be on hand, you bet.” The telegrams were soon written, and taking them, and the money to pay for their transmis- sion, Mart hastened away to catch the next train to Mapleton. When he was gone, Mr. Paul held an earnest conversation with Mr. Howell and Doxie, the result of which was that Mr. Howell hitched his team and set out for Crawford’s immediately. As soon as their conversation was ended, Mr. Paul retired to the room which bad been made his, and there he cut off all his beard and shaved his face clean. This done, any one could easily recognize him as the original of the photograph which stood on, the mantle in Doxie’s room. The hour was yet early, and taking leave of Doxie, he set out (by a circuitous route to avoid meeting any one) for Dare Manor. When he arrived there, he approached the house from the rear, and entered the old-fash-- ioned kitchen as boldly as he bad done a thou- sand times when a boy. Two old servants were there, and at sight of him they both ~ mg their eyes to the widest and stood speechless, “Do you not know me?” calling them by name, The servants knew not what tosay. Here, as their eyes and memory told them, was St. Ed-- mund Dare; and yet how could it be? “Do you not know me?’ the man repeated. ‘“T am St. Edmund, home at last.” ‘* Tt is—it must be so!” both the servants cried, “ and—” They stopped. There was they knew not what to say or do, Mr. Paul came to their aid. He called them aside, and a long conversation followed, in which he told them everything. And they almost cried for joy. He told them of his plans, and they promised their hearty co-operation, Leaving them, then, the heir went to the library and seated himself in the well-remem- bered big chair in which his father had sat, and his father before him. When the false St. Edmund should come in, the servants were to informn him that a gentle~ man awaited him. It was not long when he came, He entered the library, but at the sight of the real heir, he reeled back as though he had been shot, and bis face became deathly white. ‘“St. Edmund Dare!” he involuntarily ex- claimed. ‘* Yes, James Hammond,” the real heir said, coldly and deliberately, as he drew a revolver,. ‘and the end is at hand.” Th? false heir recoiled, and his face became — ghastly. He realized that he was ost. et a doubt, and “Sit down, James Hammond,” St. Edmund commanded, ‘‘and listen to my words, And if you attempt to escape, or make one treacherous move, I will shoot you down like a dog.” The rascal had no choice but to obey. St. Edmund read the chapter of the past, then, and brought home to the evil wretch the crimes he was guilty of, handling him without gloves. And he ended by ordering him to write notes of invitation to many prominent faimulies of the neighborhood, requesting their attendance at the manor at eight o’clock, which he did. Then St. Edmund had him securely bound, and when later two men arrived from the city —two detectives they were, he placed him in their keeping. Evening Came, and most of the invited guests arrived. They were shown into the large par- lor by servants who informed them that they had been called there on a matter of business, and that St. Edmund would soon be in, After a time a middle-aged gentleman enter- ed the room. He was a stranger to all present. Advancing to a table he laid some papers down upor it, and then turning to the co ny said: ** Ladies and Sora Tam Joun Bond well, of the firm of Higgins & Bondwell, New York. You have been summoned here this evening to witness the righting of one of the greatest wrongs that has ever come under my profes- sional notice. If you will give me your atten- tion for a few moments I e my meaning plain.” All present, save Mr. Howell and Doxie, were
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OPP RE BRF 14 more than surprised, and wondered what could | be coming. “Nearly twenty years ago,” the lawyer went on, ‘‘ young St. Edmund Dare left this paternal roof to travel abroad. His father, without the knowledge of the young man ; trusted friend to follow him and protect him, Tbat man’s name was Hammond, and of him you knew, and know, little or nothing. He had a son, James, who was about the same age as St. Edmund, and the two boys did uot look greatly unlike each other. No more was heard from the young man until about five years ago. Then, as you know, he and his guardian returned, the young man proved his identity, and he has since lived here among you. ‘But, my friends, that man was not St. Edmund Dare, but James Hammond.” A bombshell could hardly have created more surprise, “It is true,” the lawyer continued, ‘‘ and I have the proofs. At the time when James Hammond came here as St. Edmund Dare, the real heir was being held in bondage by a band—or tribe—of Tartars, to whom the Elanabiotsds| father and son, had sold him as a slave. The young man made bis escape, though, and arrived home about a year later only to find his place usurped by another, whose proofs of identity seemed to be undisputabie. Since that time he has been constantly at work to oust the usurper and gain possession of his rights. With your permission, now, I will introduce you to the genuine St. Edmund Dare.” A door opened, and St. Edmund, noble-looking and handsome, entered the room. He was recognized instantly by all who had known him as a boy, and for some moments confusion reigned, as all pressed around him eager to grasp his hand. When order was restored, St, Edmund said: “What you have just heard from Mr. Bond- well istrue. My father’s friend proved a trai- tor. When I made my escape, and came home, I was not surprised to find James Hammond in my place. 6 laughed me to scorn, and I went quietly away. Very fortunately I succeeded in gaining the assistance of such able men as Hig- gins & Bondwell, and now I am prepared to establish my identity in spite of all m enemies. Some months ago I came here as Henry Paul—” exclamations of wonder, ‘and have been waiting for final proofs before mak- ing myself known to you. But James Ham- mond Jearned whe I was—” “Thanks to a traitor in oy office, who is now under arrest,” interrupted Mr. Bondwell. ** And who led me into a ,.trap that almost proved fatal, by sending me a bogus telegram,” added St. Edmund, “James Hammond hired two rascals to murder me, and last night they came here to do the deed. A telegram led me down to the station, and there they fell upon me and threw me into the old well near by. Old Roger Blake witnessed the crime, and they killed him. know.” St. Edmund went on, then, and gave all the particulars that are known to the reader. When he had done, James Hammond was led into the room, handcuffed, as were Bob Shiner and Hank Terry. To deny their work was use- especially as Bob Shiner had confessed bis guilt, and they publicly denounced James Ham- mound as the man who bad employed them. Mail-boy Mart was there, a witness to it all, and he presently advanced to where the three rascals s , and said: ; ‘*This does me good, it does, You are two birds, and you’re another. Mebby you're sorry now ye wasn’t honest men, 1 tell ye there’s nothin’ pays like bein’ square an’ horest, fer in th’ long run th’ man that’s honest wins th plum. Is’pose you’d like ter know how we got out o’ that well, but it ain’t necessary ter tell ye. We got out, you bet!” Cheers greeted the boy’s words, St. Edmund went on, then, with every par- ticular of the case. The india-ink mark which he bad had on his arm, but which James Ham- mond could now show upon his, had been copied by an East Indian, and the origin»] on St. Ed- mund’s arm had been removed, To prove this the very man who had performed the work had been found and brought to America for that urpose. He vould speak English, and when el sites face to face with St. Edmund and the arch-rascal, he owned that the transfer—so to call it—was his work. The man who had tried to bribe the mail- mt on the Night Express to deliver the large r to him, was Hammond, be having been notified by the traitor in the lawyers’ office ~~ ¥ & The particulars of that crime you employed a | ¥ | | thin : | | | j | | | Rta betaise:, on MASS > ety Mart, the Night Express Detective. when it would be sent. Mail-boy Mart recog- | nized bim at once. All the other points were brought out, every- was made clear, St, Edmund’s identity | and James Hammond’s guilt could not be doubt- | ed, and the three prisoners were led away to | jail. Then followed a scene of wild welcome to the real heir, and a happy evening was passed, And Mail-boy Mart came in for a full share of the glory of the hour. CHAPTER XVI. LAST LINES. THE three rascals were tried, convicted, and | duly hanged. Before his execution, James Hammond made a confession in full, in which he owned to having | poisoned his own father to get him out of the way after the success of their scheme was assured. Old Roger Blake, the murdered carrier, was buried at Springside, and St. Edmund Dare marked his grave with a handsome and coatly stone. Job Clark, as Higgins & Bondwell’s rascall clerk was named, was sent to prison for a good- ly term, as were some others whose dark doings were brought to light at the same time. Jacob Raybold, the detective, had little to congratulate himself upon in bis share in the case, but he took it all in good part and yielded the honors gracefully to Mail-boy Mart. There was a grand wedding at Springside ere many weeks rolled by, and St. Edmund Dare and Doxie Howell were made one, After many years of patient waiting, Doxie was rewarded at last. But St. Edmund consid- ered his reward greater than hers, She had | been tried and found true, All the other good people of our romance are | living, enjoying the honor and peace that come | as a reward for honesty and uprightness. Lew Weston, the conductor: Tom Burgess, the engi- neer; and many other of the railroad men are | still at their posts. In the mail-room of the Night Express, however, a new face is now seen. It is Mail-boy Mart, who is now route-agent on that line in place of Henry Prentiss, the latter | having been promoted to a higher position, St. Edmund Dare wanted Mart to accept a large reward, and live without work all his life, but the boy would not hear to it, He did, however, agree to attend school until he became of age, and then Mr. Dare used his influence to | gain for him the position he coveted. And there Mart is to-day, a favorite with all who know bim, and in a fair way to work bis way to a much higher position in the near future, Whenever he catches the mail on the fly at Springside, he remembers the night when Old Roger’s body was caught by the crane, and he cannot help the sbudder the thought gives bim. He often speaks of that night to his friends, and by many of them he is still called Mail-boy Mart, the Night Express Detective. THE END, Beadle’s Dime Library. By Philip S. Warne......... 1 A Harp Crown. 2 Tae Dare-Devit. By Col. P. 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By J. H. Robinson.... 88 VeLvs7 Hanp. By Alvert W. Aiken. ; By Frederick Whittaker. 40 THe Lone Harrep ‘ Parps.’ J. £. Badger, Jr.. 41 GoLp Dan. By Albert W. Aiken. aed 42 THe CALIFORNIA DETECTIVE. A. W. Aiken.... 43 Dakota Dan. By Oi] Coomes . rice ake 44 Oud Dan RacksBack. By Olli Coomes er 46 Bowre-Knire BEN. y Ol] Coomes 48 IpaAuo Tom. By Ol] Coomes. seeds os 49 Tue WoLtF Demon. By Albert WSAiken.... . 50 Jack Rassrr. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr ei 51 Rep Ros, THE Boy Roap-Acrent. Oll Coomes.. 52 DEATH TRAILER. By Wm. F. Cody............ By Philip 8. Warne...... 55 THe Scape Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid. .. 56 THe INDIAN Mazeppa. By Albert W. Aiken..., 57 THe Sirent Hunter. By Percy B.St. John... 58 Srpver Knire. By Dr. J. H. Robinson... ... F 59 THe MAN ¥roM Texas. By Albert W. Aiken, 60 Wipe Awake. R\ Frank Dumont........... e 61 CAPTAIN SEAWwAIF. By Ned Buntline.......... 62 LoyaAL Heart. By Gentave Aimard, . 571. 63 Tae Wincrep WHALE. By Aibert W. Aiken.... 64 DousLe Sicut. By Jos. 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+ al ent a Pas i AS ih ne ak fr r‘ eS ~ lt “S ae Ts ee ba” AS ‘ BY PHILIP 8. WARNE. BY ALBERT W. AIKEN, 67 Patent-Lenther Joe; or, Old Rattlesnake, the Charmer. 175 Vaprain Arizona; or, Patent-Leather Joe's Big Game. The Two Detectives; or, The Fortunes ofa Bowery Girl. 2 é 498 Captain Mask; or, Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat. ) he ‘ ‘ v s - 11 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. ZY Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. 268 Joe Buck of Angels and His Boy Pard. 447 New York Nat. A Tule of Tricks and Traps in Gotham, 458 New England Nick; or, ‘The Fortunes of a Feundling, 464 Nimble Nick, the Circus Prince. 498 Tunos Ted, toe Arizonn Sport. 510 Cool Colorado, the Hal!-Breed Detective. 515 Cool Colorado in New York. 219 Despard, the Dueliat; or, The Mountain Vempires. 888 A Tough Boy ; or, The Dwart’s Revenge. 868 Little Tornado; or, The Outcasts of the Glen. ‘ BIS Little Jingo; or, the Queer Pard. BSS Little Oh-my 3 or, Caught in His Own Trap, Yt 401 Little Shoo-Fly4 or, A Race fora Ranch. 7 } 408 Little Leather-Breeches ; or, Old Jumbo’s Curse, 481 Littie Ab sing or, The Curse ef Blood, 451 Colorado Kate. A Tale of the olines. BY GEORGE WALDO BROWNE. 86 Dandy Rock the Man from Texas. 480 Three Jolly Pards. 517 Jim Cladden’s Deputy. 4 527 The Jolly Pards to the Rescue. ma gh y r HAT Sandy Andy; Tt A Good Man Down, +4 The apr peo eX alley tect np a Bo 556 Lariat Lils or, The Cast for « Life, 115 The Mad Miner; or, Dandy Kock’s Doom. b a3 — Golson Bene Nm Dandy Rock to the Rescue, ( andy Reck’s Pledge}; or, Hunted to Death. : Ps BY CAPTAIN FRED, WHITTAKER. 178 Dandy Rock’s Rival; or, The tiaunted Maid of Taos. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, The Witch of Darien. 29 The Dumb Page; or, The Doge’s Daughter. 48 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. 150 Lance und Lasso; or, The Children of the Chaco. 154 The Sword IMunters; or, The Land of the Elephant Riders, 159 — — Laptain; or, Skipper Jabez Coffin’s to the volar Sea, B00 The Boy Bedoutns; or, The Brothers of the Plamed Lance, 214 Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine. 249 Milo Romer, the Animal King; or, The Round the World 265 The Tig: T The League of the Jungle. e er Tamer} or, The League e Jui $81 Black Nick, the Demon Rider. - 895 California Joe’s War Trail. BY CAP. J. F. C, ADAMS. 84 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Whiffles’s Boy Spy. 46 Glass-Eye, the Great Shot of the West, 54 Ned Hazel, the Boy Trapper. 56 Nick W hiffies’s Pet; or, In The Valley of Death, 60 The White Indian; or, The Scout of the Yellowstone 70 Old Zip’« Cabin; or, The Greenhorn in the Woods. a1 Lightning Jo, the Terror of the Prairie, 85 Buck Buckram ; or, Bess, the Female Trapper, 247 Old Grizzly and His Pets; or, The Wild Huntress. 251 Light-house Lige ; or, Osceola, the Firebrand, 7 The Lost Hantera; or, The Underground Camp, 288 The Sealp King: or, The Human Thunderbolt, eae BY BUCKSKIN 8AM (Major Sam. 8, Hall.) ' 284 Old Rocky’s ** Boyees;” or, Benito, the Young Horse- x Breaker. : 6 Giant George; or, The Ang’! of the Range. 75 Arizona Jack ¢ or, Giant George’s Pard. 297 The Tarantula of Taos; or, Giant George’s Revenge. BOT The Strange Pard; or, Little Ben’s Death Hunt. 818 Retwnese, Ker-whoos or, The Tarantula of Taos. BS 827 preckine Jat, the Cuddo; or, The Red and White Pards. if . B82 Frio Fred; or, The Tonkaway’s Trost. «B44 The Fighting Trio; or, Rattlesnake, the Tonkaway. | ; 849 Wild Wolf or, Big-Foot Wallace to the Front. ll BY ROGER STARBUCK, 25 The Boy Captain; or, The Pirate’s Daughter. 114 The Black Seitonaes or, Jib Junk. the Old Tar. 259 ‘The Golden Harpoon; or, Lost Among the Floes. 848 Fire-HMeela; or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. $54 Big Worn Ike, the Hill Tramp; or, The Odd Pards. 861 The Phantom Light-house. 870 ibreaker Ben, the Reef-Runner. BY WILLIAM *. EYSTER, 190 Dandy Darke; or, The Tigers of High Pine. BST The Ranch Raiders: or, The Siege of Fort Purgatory. 210 Faro Frank; or, Dandy Darke’s Go-Down Pards, ". 864 Snap-Shot, the Boy Ranger. : B75 Chieta, the Creek; or, The Three Thunderbolts. A ot : 881 Bandera Bills; or. Frio Frank to the Front. : ss BYZ Romeo and the Reda; or, The Beleagnered Ranch. 404 Little Lariat; or, Pecan Pete’s Big Rampage. BY COLONEL DELLE SARA, ia 5) 414 The Daisy from Denver. 108 The Lion of the Sea; or, The Vailed Lady. | 427 The Theat Trailers: or, Ol Rocky on the Rampags. 186 Cool Desmond ¢ or, The Gambler's Big Game r ss 442 Bluff Bills or, The Lynx of the Leona. 455 Little Lone Star; or, The Bell of the Cibolo, BY MARRY ST. GEORGE, 80 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, the Ranger. 44 Rattling Rube; or, The Nighthawks of Kentucky, 59 Old Hickory ; or, Pandy Ellis’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 EDWARD WILLETT. S 167 Asa Scott, the Steambont Boy. % 199 Featherweight the Boy Champion of the Muskingum. ¥ 2 228 Ozark Alf; or, Featherweight Among the Outlaws. ~ 282 The Type Detectives or, Weasel, the Boy Tramp, 295 Fearless Phil; or, The King of Quartzville. ¢ B11 The Roving Sport; or, The Pride of Chuckaluck Camp, ae B22 Nemo, the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon's Vendetta, 840 Clip, the Contortionist; or, Th« Montana Vigilantes. BY JAMES L. BOWEN bY Seek of t oF, Phd Sesto Forest Home. e Black Steed o e Prairies. A Story of T : BY J, C. COWDRICK. ae 4 $60 Rilver-Mask, the Man of Mystery, As 869 Shasta, ine Gold King; or, For Seven Years Dead. ; 420 The Detective’s Apprentice; or, A Boy Without a Ctbata John; «r, Red-Hot Times at Ante Bar, BY ©, DUNNING CLARE, 185 Captain Paul: or, The Boy Spy of the Mountains. 230 The Yankee Rajah; or, The Fate of the Black Suereet. 9S Sam, the Street Scout. ty. Z Disco Dane the Daisy Dude. BY GEORGE ©. JENKS. 486 eats ane Sera 25 Ott Ther Qrrney by Dakners ally Oe ood ar Owney’s roadway sili 4 Boodle. 518 The Demon Detkon, BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR, JU. 8. A. 191 Rete Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker; or, The Doomed irt . 194 Buffalo Bill's Bet; or, The Gambler Guide. e Enginee tective peadwan Gili’ Piftikilty.” ; ty the icht Express Detective. groadway Billy’s Death Racket. af ‘ie BY JO PIERCE. a5 Reb o’ the Bowery ; or, The Prince of Mulberry Street. " 5 ; : / & 3 +i il a BY CHARLES E. LASALLE, 50 8 Bunker, the Trapper. 52 The W hite Buffalo. A Tale of the Northwest Vagabond Detective; or, Bowery Bob's Boom, ur Bob, the Street-Boy Detective. he Lawyer’s Shadow ; or, Luke’s Legacy. aunty Joe, the soung, Horse-King. Sim, the Y, . . a BY JON J. MARSHALL ~ BN aek Jaggers, the Butcher Detective. oving Ben, A Story of x Young American. rtar Tim; or, Five Points Phil’s Menagerie. £0 arth River Nat, the Pier Detective bd reatling Rex, the Pride of the Sixth Ward. eff Flicker. the Stable Boy Detective, lek Netcle, the Bog Shadow, arlem Jack, the Office Boy Detective, BY CAPT. MARK WILTon, Young Kentuck? or, The Red Lasso, or, The Riot at Keno Tiahe tee Toy ‘Tenderfoot. ae RY CAPTAIN MAYNE RED, or, The Yellow Chiefs Vengeance. tek ton Tee or, The League of vile Island, Helpless Hand 3 or, Backwoods Re z Gold-seeker Guide; ot, The Lost Mountain, he Outlaw Brothers; or, The Captive of the Harpes. BY WM. G. PATTEN, 489 The Diamond Sport; or, The Double Face of Bed Rock 519 © f in One. S81 ales Baws Uy hear Dea vers BY MAJOR E. L. 8ST. VRAIN, 292 Sancho Pedro, the Boy Bandit. $01 Leadville Nick, the Boy Sport. $18 Girmeetons Rau cutie isktetes Here Quartet rimatone ob, and His tning Horse 852 Tombstone Tom, the Ashenn Boy of “‘ Sand.” ont iene on &. ~ Young ‘nan ion Wrestier, ngbolt the Young Hard-Shell Detective, B80 Avalanche mie, the Foothills Guide. an 890 Jaguar Joe, of the Mountsin Mail-Line. BY EDWARD 8. ELLIS, 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. & Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier, fe MAJOR MENRY B. STODDARD, Ex-Scout, eck-TI » The Dug-Out Pards, hk or, The Beordstoen of Zacatecas, e Kie the Dandy of the Rockies, ® Kit and Pard; or, The Gold King. Man-Hunter; or, The Mystery ef Golden lls Pard 3 or, The One Anned Giant. BY BRACERRIDGE HEMYN@G. Inland Fim; or, The Pet of the Famil ‘The Oaptatu of th R Jack Il ay in ow Yorke re 10 Nat Todd: or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive, 21 The Frontier Angel. 98 The Koy Miners: or, The Enchanted Island, 182 The Hunted Hunter; or, The Strange Horseman, by The Half-Blood; or, The Panther of the Plains, 71 The Huge Hunter; or, The Steain Prairie Man, BY MAJOR LEWIS Ww. CARSON, Three Trappers}; or, The Mountrin Monster. Ba Joe; or, The White Spirit of the Hie val Athletes, EADLE'S*HALF-DIME*LIBRARY. ane ys P6t- eh t=“ vl ex BY W. J. HAMILTON. 68 The Red Brotherhood; or. The Twelve Avengers. 66 Single Hand; or, A Life for a Life, 72 Mad Tem Weatern, tse Texan Ranger. 887 Ben Bird, the Cave King; or, Big Pete’s Scoop, BY JACK FARRAGUT. 815 Ned, the Cabin Boy. 820 The Seu Serceress; or, The Boy Skipper, BY FRANK DUMONT. 120 The Branded Hand: or, The Man of Mystery. 127 Wild-Fire, the Boss of the Road. 140 Blue Blazes; or, The Break o’ Day Boys of Rosky Bar, 171 Ebony Dany; or, The Rival Leagues. 185 Evil Eve; or, The Vultures of the Rio Grande. BY LIFUT. Hl. D. PERRY, U. 8. N. 176 The Boy Runaway; or. The Buccaneer of the Bay. 180 The Sea Trailer: or, A Vow Well Kept. 192 Captain Kit; or, The Mystery of Montauk Point, BY HARRY WAZARD. 828 Arkansaw Jack; or, The Scourge of the Mines. 829 Red-Skin Tomy or, The Demon’s Trail, $42 The Mountain vil; or, Yellow Jack, the Outlaw. BY COL. A. F. HOLT. 899 Black Buckskin: or, The Masked Men of Death Canyon, e 419 Kenneth, the Knife-King. A485 Little Lightfoot, the Pilot of the Woods. BY J. W. OSBON. 469 The Rival Gliant« ef Nowhar’. 498 Cactus Burr, the Man from Hard Lack, 5ST Old Buckeye, the Sierra Shadow, 564 Powder Phil, the Boy Miner. BY FREDERICK DEWEY, 818 Cimarron Jack, the King-Pin of Rifle-Shots, 478 Tangemund, the Desert Vetective, 5642 The Canyon Parda. BY ARTHUR C. GRISSOM, 440 Little Foxfoot, the Gold Bowie Kid. 558 The Sure-Shot Pards, BY LIEUT. A. K. SIMS, 546 Captain Cactus, the Chaparral Cock. 568 The Dandy of Dodge. 569 Brooklyn Ben, the On-His-Own-Hook Detective, MISCELLANEOUS AUTHORS, 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Frederick Whittaker. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen. 12 Gulliver's Travels. By Dean >wi 14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp. 16 Robinson Crusoe. (27 Illustrations.) 18 Sindbad the Sallor. His Seven veyege. 22 T22 Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Juan 8. 88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the Carribers. By S. W. Pierce. 86 The Boy Clown; or, The Queen ofthe Arena, By Frank S. Finn. 88 Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 51 The Boy Rifles; or, The Underground Camp. By Archie C. Irons. 95 The Rival Rovers; or, The Freebooters of the Mississippi By Lient.-Col, Hazeltine. * 98 Robin Hood, the Untlawed Earl; or, The Merry Men ef Green- * wood. By Prof. Gildersleeve. 105 Old Rube. the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive. By Captain Hamilton Holmes. 112 The Mad Hunter; or, The Cave of Death. By Burton Saxe 124 Tippy, the Texan; or, The Young Champion. By Georg Gleeson. 128 The Young Privateer; or, The Pirate’s Strongho! Harry Cavendish. : or : + ef 148 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of a Friendless Bey. By J Alexander Patten. 227 Dusky Darrell, Tregeen ov, The Green Ranger of @. Yel- an lowstone. By Edward “ 261 Fergus Fearnaught the New Yk Boy. By deorgeL, er. =. 266 Killb'ar, the Guide; »r, Davy Crockett’s Creeaed Tal By Ensign ©. PD. Warren, 2 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyea Trapper; or, The Maid of the Clif, By Captain Comstock. “ cock Pete, the Lively Lad from Leadville. . 817 Peacock Peto. the y By Liew 828 The Sky Bbe*ectives or, A Boy’s Fight for Lifeand Honor By Maior Mickey Free. 850 Red Ralph, the River Rovers or, The Brother's Re venge. By Ned Buntline. 865 Baltimore Ben the Bootblack Detective. By A. P. Morri, — ; 874 Steps Toms; or, Ben’s Double Matcl.. By George H, P orse, aa 876 California Joc’s First Trail. By Colonel Theme — # loyer Monstery. a 418 Billy Bombshell, the CiffClimber. By F.S, Winthrop, — 475 The Black Ship. By John S. Warner, 484 Comanche Dick and His Three Invincibles By enry J, Thomas. 528 Wizard-Arm, the Dandy Sport. By Arthur F. Holt. , 582 The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Breoke Forrest. Sah". 552 Ariel, the Athlete. By David Druid, i A New TIesue Every Tuesday- The Half-Dime Library is for ssle by 8! newsdealess cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE ANP ADAMS, Publishers,
Page 16
Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at tne Uniform Price of Five Cents. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, Deadwood Dick Novela. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick's Defiance, 28 Buffalo Ben; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguise. 85 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval. 42 Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza, 49 Omaha * or, Deadwood Dick in Danger. 5i Deadwood Dick's Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. 7B Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane, the Heroine, 77 Corduroy Charlie 3_or, Deadwood Dick's Last Act. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville, - 104 Deadwood Dick's Device; or, The Double Cross Sign. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s Guich. 188 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick's Home Base. 149 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick's Big Strike. 166 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party. 195 Deadwood Dick’« Dream ;¢ or, ‘The Riv: ls of the Rond. 201 The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Deadwood Dick's Ward. 205 Deadwood Dick's Doom; or, Calamity Jane's Last Ad- venture, 217 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Brigand. 221 Sugar-Coated Sam; or, The Black Gown. 282 Gold-Duat Dick, A Romance of Rough: and Tough, 268 Deadwood Dick's Divide; or, The Spir.t of Swamp Lake. 268 Deadwood Dick's Death Trail, 809 Deadwood Dick’s Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick of regon, 821 Deadwood Dick's Dozen ; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flats. 847 Deadwood Dick’s Ducats; or, Rainy Days in the Dig- gings. 851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta, | 862 ncaa Dick’s Claim; or, The Fairy Face of Faro ats. 405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City. 410 posdweed Dick’s Diamonds; or, The Mystery of Joan orter. 421 Deadwood Dick in New York; or, A “Cute Care.” 480 Deadwood Dick’s Dust; or, The Chained Hand. 448 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 448 Nickel-Plate Nedj or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Defiance. 458 peaiewer Sam, of Shasta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Full and. 459 Flush Fan, tle Ferret; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Ronnd- Up. 465 a le Fly, of Phenix; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Racket at aim 10, 471 Bozeman Bill; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Corral. 476 Humboldt Marry, the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's | Dog Detective. 481 Moll Mystery; or, Dendwood Dick Jr. in Dendwood. 491 Prince Pistol, the King of the West; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Compact. 496 Monte Criato, Jr.: or, Pendwood Dick Jr's Inheritance. 500 Deadwood Dick's Diggins 5 or, Dr, Death-Grip’s Swoop. 508 Deadwood Dick’s Deliverance, 515 Deadwood Dick’s Protegee. 522 Deadwood Dick's Three. 529 Deadwood Dick's banger Ducka, 584 Deadwood Dick’s Death Hunt. 589 Deadwood Dick Jr., in Texas. 514 Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidoeq. 549 Deadwood Dick on Mis Mettle. 554 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Gotham, 561 Deadwood Dick in Boston, 567 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Philadelphia, } Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon. 82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot. £9 Death-F ace, Detective; or, Life in New York, 45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand, 5S Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix. 61 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team. 69 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter; or, The boy Detective, 80 Rosebud hob or, Nugget Ned, the Knight. 84 Idyl, the Girl Winer; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand, 88 Phetograph Vhil; or, Rosebud Rob's Reappearance, 92 Canada Chet ; or, Ol Anaconda in Sitting Bull's Camp, 96 Watch-Eye 3 or, Arabs und Angels of a Great City, 18 Jack Hoste the Young Speculator, 17 Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sp rt Detective 21 Cinnamon Chip, the Giri Sport. 25 za Bill, Miner. 88 Boxe Bob the King of Bootblacks. 41 folte Sam, the Boy Road-Agent. conten Ferret, the New York Detective; or, Boss Bob’s New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. ’ Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Sierras Seamps. Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo, F F a oe Pt pd a : BNA = ritz, the Bound-Boy Detective. ritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloqnist Manter, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp: or, The Arab Detective. 286 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. 240 Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator. 244 Sierra Sam, the Frontier Ferret. 245 Slerra Sam's Sceret; or, The Bloody Footprints, 258 Sierra Sam’s Pard; or, The Angel ot Big Vista, 255 Sierra Sam’s Seven; or, The St+len Bride. 27ZB Jumbo Joe, the Koy Patrol; or, The Rival Heirs, 277 Denver Doll, the Detective Queen. 281 Denver Doll’« Victory. 255 Denver Voll’« Decoy ; or. Little Bill’s Bonanza. 291 Turk, the Boy Ferret. 296 Denver Doll's Drift; or, The Road Queen. 299 A No. 1, the Dashing Tol)-Taker. 808 ’Liza Jane, the dir! Miner; or, the Iron-Norved Sport. 825 kelley, Miekey & Cox, the Detectives of Philadelphia. B80 Little Qu'ck-Shot; or, The Dead Face of Daggersville, it Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miver. 889 Kangaroo Kit’« Racket. 848 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood, B58 First-Class Fred, be Gent trom Gopher, 865 preks dim, the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Lottery of 872 Yreka Jim’s Prize. B78 Naboh Neds or, The Secret of Slnb City. B82 Cool Kit, the King of Kids; or, A Villain’s Vengeance, BS5 Yreka Jini’s Joker; or, The Rivals of Red Nose, 889 Bieyele Beny or. The Lion of Lightning Lode. 894 Yreka Jim of Yuba Dam, 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. 416 Wigh Mat Marry, the Base Ball Detective, 6 Sam Stabalides, the Beegar-Boy Detective. 4 Jhn Beak and Pal, Private Detectives. 8 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher. 456 Seualskin Sam, tho Sparkier. BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 8 Kansas King; or, The Red Right Mand. 19 The Phantom Spy: or, The Pilot of the Prairie, 55 Deadly-Eye, the Bixnown Seout. 65 rder Kobin Hood ¢ or, The Prairie Rover. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado or, The Trapper’s Trust DOV ec=s avs=ne BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM. 7 The Flytng Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast. b 17 Ralph Roy, the Boy Bucean er; or The Fugitive Yacht. 18 24 Diamond Dirk; or, The Mystery of the Yellowstone. 27 52 The Shadow sh p3 or, The Rival Lieutenants, 81 75 The Boy Dnellat; or, The Cruise of the Sea- Wolf, 41 102 Dick Dead-Eye, the Boy Sinuggier. BS 111 The Sen-Devil; or, The Midshipman’s Legacy. ra | 116 The Mussar Captain g or, ‘the Hermit of Hell Gate. 74 197 Little Grit; or, Bessie, the Stock-Tender’s Daughter. 88 204 Gold Plume; or, The Kid-Glove Sport. 184 216 Bison BIULL, the Prince of the Reins, 148 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport; or, The Woman Trailer. 146 229 Crimson Kate; or, The Cowboy's Triumph, 158 287 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain. 168 245 Merle, the Middy 3 or, The Freelance Heir. 178 250 The Midshipman Mutineer 3 or, Brandt, the Buccaneer. 182 264 The Floating Feather; or, Merle Monte’s Treasure | 202 Island. 208 269 The Gold Ship; or, Merle, the Condemned. 218 276 meste Monte’s Crulse; or, The Chase of “The Gold | 204 Ship.” 8 280 Merle Monte’s« Fate; or, Pear), the Pirnte’s Bride, b= +4 284 The Sea Marauder; or, Merle Monte’s Pledge. 248 287 Billy Bine-Eyes, the Boy Rover of the Rio Grande. 260 804 The Dead Shot Dandy ; or, Benito, the Boy Bugler, 272 808 Keno kit; or, Dead Shot Dandy’s Dowble. 290 814 7 Mysterious Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’s Long | 800 raul, Se 877 Bonodel, the Boy Rover}; or, The Flagless Schooner, pre se The Indian Pilet; or, The Search fer Pirate Island. 417? 87 Warpath WILL, the Boy Phantom. 422 898 Seawail, the Boy Lieutenant. 444 . BEADLE'’S*H ALF-DIME*« LIBRARY. No Double Numbers. BY OLL COOMES. Vacabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew. The Dumb Spy. Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. Keen-Kuife, the Prince of the Prairies. Lasso Jack, the Young Mastanger. The Border King; or, The Secret Foe. Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy. HMawk-eye Marry the Young T:apper R nger. Rello, the Boy Ranger. Sure Shot Seth, the boy Rifleman. Sear-Face Saul, the Silent Huntr. Silver Star, the Boy Knight. Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. Little Hurricane, the me Captain. Prow ect Pete ¢ or, The Young Outlaw Huntera, The Boy Here ules: or, The Prairie Tramps. Tiger Tom, the Texas Terror. paring Dick ¢ or, Vrapper Ton’s Castle. Little Wildfire, the Young Prairie Nomad. The Parson De tectivet or, The Little Ranger. The Disgutsed Guide ¢ or, \ Hd Raven, the Ranger. Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger. Minkakin Mike, the Boy Sharp-hooter. Little Foxfire, the Boy Spy. The Sky Demon ¢ or, Ruinb«lt, the Ranger. Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero. Wereules; or, Dick, the Boy Ranger. Webfoot Mose, the Tromp Detective. Baby Sam, the Boy Ginnt of the Yellowstone. Little Buckakin, the Young Prairie Centaur, 402 Iaodor, the Young Conspirator 3 or, The Fatal League, 407 The Boy Insurgent; or, The Cuban Vendet‘a. 412 The Wild Yachtamans or, The War-Clouu’s Cruise. 429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee. 488 A Cabin Boy's Luck; or, Toe Corsair. 487 The Sea Ralder. 441 The Ocean Firefly ; or, A Middy’s Ver geance. 446 HMaphazard Marry 3 or, The Scapegrace of the Sea, 450 Wizard Wilts or, 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 Conster. 474 Florays or, Wizard Will's Vagabond Pard, 488 Ferrets Afloat; or, Wizard Will’s Last Case, AST Nevada Jed, the Revolver Kanger. 495 Arizona doe the Boy Pard of Texas Jack, 497 Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. 5608 The Royal Mi 507 The Hunted Midshipman, 511 The Outlawed Middy. 520 Buckskin Bill, the Comanche Shadow, 525 Brothers tn Buckskin, 580 The Buckskin Bowers, 5835 The Bue «skin Rovers, 540 Captain Ku-Klux, the Marander of the Rio, 515 Lieutenant Leo, the Son of Lafitte, 550 Lafitte’s Legacy: or. The Avenging Son. 5655 The Creole Corsair. 560 Pawnee BIiIl, the Prairie Shadower. 565 Kent Kingdon, the Card King. BY CHARLES MORRIS, WIII Somers, the Boy Dy tective. Phil Hardy, the Boss Bey. Picayune Vete ; or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detective. Detective Dick ¢ or, The Hero tn Rage. Handsome Harry, the Boothlack Detective, 47 WIll Wildfire, the Thoroughbred. 52 Black Bean, Will Wildfire’s Racer. 57 Mike Merry, the Harber Police Boy. 62 WILL Wildfire in the Woods, 65 Billy Baggage, the Railroad Boy, se A ‘Cramp Card ¢ or, Will Wilitire Wine and Loses. f S ane woaeer 1 Bob Rockett; or, Mysteries of New York. 9 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, 8 The Hidden Hands or, Will Wildfire’s Revenge. Cd 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, 25 Sam Charcoal the Preminm Darky, 245 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. The Two “ Bloods"; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang. VAL 252 Dick Dashaway ¢ or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago, g 262 The VY oung Sharps: or, Kollicking Mike’s Hot Trail, 274 Jolly Jim, the Detective Apprentice. 289 Jolly Jim’s Joby or, The Young Detective. 298 The Water-Hound; or, The Young Thoroughbred. 805 Dashaway, of Dakotas or, A Western Lad in the Quaker City. 824 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective, 841 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 858 The Keporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyer’s Blizzard, B67 Wide-Awake Joe; or, A Boy of the Times, 87 Larry, the Levelers or, The Bloods of the Boulevard, 408 Firelly Jnek, the River-Rat Detective, 428 The Lost Finger; or, The Entrapped Cashier. 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective, 482 Invincible Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. 456 Billy Brick, the Jotly Vagabond, 466 Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or, Entombed Alive, 479 Detective Dodge; or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty, 488 Wild Dick Racket. 501 Boots, the Boy Fireman: or, Too Sharp for the Sharper, 566 The Secret Service Boy Detective. BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR, 2 Vellowatone Jack ; or, The Trapper. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent; or, The Outlaw’s Retreat, 65 Murricane Bill; or, Mustang Sam and His Pard. 119 Mustang Sam } or, The King of the Plains, 186 Night-HNawk Kit; or, The Daughter of the Ranch. 144 Dainty Lance the Boy Sport. 151 Panther Paul: ¢r, Dainty Lance to the Rescue. 160 The Black Giant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy. 168 Deadly Dash; or, Fighting Fire with Fire. 184 The Boy Trailers; or, Dainty Lance on the War- Path. 208 The Boy Pards; or, Dainty Lance Unmasks. 211 Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Celestinl City. 810 The Barranca Wolf; or, The Beautiful Decoy. $19 The Black Riders or, The Horse-Thieves’ League, B85 Old Double Fist; or, ‘he Stranve Guide. 855 The King of the Woods: or Du nel Boone’s Last Trail. 4419 Kit Fox, the Border Boy Detective, ddy } or, The Shark and the Sea Cat. 87 Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy; or, The Smugglers, 581 Donble-Curve Dan, the Pitcher Detective. 584 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Denver, 586 The Buckskin Avenger. 457 Wingedtoot Fred; or, Old Polar Sau), 468 Tamarac ‘Tom, the Big Trapper Bey. 78 Old Tom Rattler, the Red River Epidemic, 482 Stonewall Bob, the Boy Trojan. 562 Blundering Basil, the Hermit Boy Trapper, BY T. ©. HARBAUGIE Nick o’ the Night; or, Th» Boy Spy of "76. The Hidden Lodge; or The Littl Hunter, Nightingale Nat; ', Tne Forest Captoins, Dand Tack. 3 or, The Outlows of the Oregon Trais. Kit Harefoot the Wood-Howk. Midnight - ack ¢ «x The Boy Trapper. Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen, Kiowa Charley the White Mustanger. 9 Judge Lynch, drat or, The Boy Vigilante. ob Gold Trigger, the ye rt; or, The Girl Avenger. Y Tornado Tomy cr, Injun Jack From Red Core, S&S Ned Temple, the Border Boy. § Arkansnaw ; or, The Que n ot Fate’s Revenge. 7 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Honter. Captain Bullet; or, Little Tovknot's Crusade, 1 Plucky Phil; or, Rosa, the Re! Jezebel. 41 Bll Bravo; or, The Roughs of the Rockies. % Captain Apoll , the King-Pin of Bowie, 7 The Buckskin Detective. 279 Old Winch s or, The Buckskin Desneradoes. 294 Dynamite Dany or, The Bowle Blade of Cochetopa. 802 The Mountain Detective; or, The Trigger Bar Bully 816 O14 Eelipae, Trump Card of Arizana, 826 The Ten Pards; or. The Terror of Take-Notice, 836 Big Benson; on The Queen of the La so. 845 Pitileas Matt; or, Red Thunderhol.’s Secret. BOK Oool sam sne Part, ov The Terrible Six. 866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. 886 Captain Cutiass«; or, he B conneer’s Girl Foe, 896 Rough Rob: or, The ! win Champions of Blne Blazes, 411 The Silken Lasso; or, The Rose of Ranch Robin. 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter. 425 Texas Trump, the Border Rattler. 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox. 445 The City Vampires; or, Ked Rolfe’s Piven, 461 One Against Fifty: or, The Last Man of Keno Bar, 470 The Boy Shadow; or, Felix Fox's Hunt. 477 The Exceisior Sports or, The Washington Spottr, 499 Single Sight, the Cne-Eved Sport. 502 Branded Ren, the Night Ferret. 512 Dodger Dick, the Whnurf-Spy Detective, 521 Dodger Dick’s Best Dodge. 528 Fox and Falcon, the Rowery Shadows. B88 Dodger Dicks the Dock Ferret. 548 Dodger Dick’« Double; or, The Rival Boy Detectives, B58 Dodcer Dick’« Desperate Case. 568 Dodger Dick, the Boy Vidocq. LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. 570 Camille, the Card Queen. By Col. Prentiss Ingrabam, 71 Air-Line Luke, the Young Engineer. By J. C. Cowdrick, 572 Dendwood Dick, Jr., in Chicago. By E. L. Wheeler, 5783 The Two Shadows. By T. C. Harbangh. B74 Old Weanacl-top, the Man with the Dogs. By P. 8. Warne. 575 } tend Surgeon-Scout Detectives Py Colonel Prentisw naeraham,. 576 The Silver Sport. By Lient. A. K. Sims. 577 Pavement Pete, the Secret Sifter. By Jo Pierce. 578 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Afloat. By Edward L. Wheeler, 579 The Chimney Spy; or, Brosdway Billy’s Surprise-Party.. By J. C. Cowdrick. 580 The Outcast Cadet; or, The False Beteetive. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. POO K KOK ee eee SHwereSoLeRTOSTCLSere o SaAweo mins By George C. Jenks. 582 Dodger Dick’s Drop. By T. C. Harbangh. 688 Saffron Sol, the Man With a Shadow. By Lient. A. K. Sins, By Ed. L. Wheele=, Ready October 2. B85 Will Waters, the Boy Ferret. Ready Ovtober 9. By H. Enton. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. Ready October 16, 587 Old Bombshell, the Ranger Detective, By Wm, G, Patten, Ready October 23. a 588 Jack-o’.Lantern, the Under-Sea Prospectots By Jo Pierce. Ready October 30. A New Issue Every Tuesday. The MWalf-Dime Library 's for sale by all newsdealers, fire cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New Yerk,.