Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 565) (1888 05 22)
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—=- =4 SSS < \ \ \\ : . ws IMM, \ Ky MIN § A “= ww \ ; ——_— ~S mm. Ata May 22, :838. Copyright, 1888 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORE. 5 Cents. No. 565, ZZ A Tale of Border Mystery. BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAFAM, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ LIEUTENANT LEO,” ** THE BUCH . SKIN ROVERS,” *‘ BUCK TAYLOR,” ‘“MERLE, THE MIDDY,” ETC. CHAPTER I. A GRAVE BETWEEN THEM. A YIvID flash of lightning, that seemed to rend the heavens in twain, followed by a peal of thunder that fairly shook the earth, so startled a horse and rider dashing swiftly along a trail in ——— == : Z EEZ the far West, that the animal] sprung forward —— SS = =< = — = = with a wild neigh of fright, and hie ed swif® ANOTHER MOMENT AND ONE OF HER OUTSTRETCHED ARMS WAS GRASPED. ly along beyond the power of contrel,
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~ oe _ revealed a form of wonderful _ metry, while her tiny hands an 2 — ——. The rider was a woman, who, terrified, ut- tered a cry of alarm, and dropping the reins had covered -her face with her hands as though olinded by the glare, Unrestrained by the hand of his rider the horse became maddened by fear, for the light- nings still flashed, the thunder still pealed, while the fierce winds tore huge branches from the trees, threatening to crush both horse and rider. the animal dashed froin the trail and went, with a mighty leap, over the high bank of a Hl and fell headlong into the rushing waters below. Seated upon his horse, in the shelter of a thicket of pines, a man beheld the leap and fall of the animal and his fair rider, for he was but a few paces away. “For no man would I take this risk; but for a woman, yes!” The words came through his shut teeth, and as he uttered them his face paled, for he knew the danger. Instantly he spurred forward, guiding his horse down a ravine and the next moment had ridden the the swollen waters of the torrent, Not twenty feet from him was the woman rider, swept along upon the current, conscious of the death that faced her; but her horse had disappeared beneath the flood. Another moment and her outstretched hands were firmly grasped, and she was drawn up to a seat in front of her preserver. ; But the flood was too violent for the horse to sustain his double load, and the waters swept over him, “Have I doomel you also? Leave me to my fate!” came frora the lips of the young girl, for such she was, ‘No, we live or die together. Have no fear and trust to me.” Tbe words were firmly uttered, and the man slipped from his saddle as he spoke, and rasped with | his left arm the waist of the one whom he had risked his life to save. He was a bold swimmer and struck out man- fully for the shore, the current carrying the two swiftly along the while. It was a desperate battle for life, and several times, as the bold swimmer threatened to go under, the girl said in the calmest tones: “Release me, sir, and save yourself!” A grim, defiant smile was his answer, with the words: : ‘““T have fought death before and—con- quered.” , ¥et, in spite of his brave words, he again sunk beneath the waters; but another great effort he made, and just then unexpected help came, for bis horse had followed his master and passed near him, when i for the shore, which was a = this point, and gave promise of a g ooting. anes let us die, old boy! Come, save us!” ‘The words were pret and the noble ani- mal, as though to lend what aid he could, headed nearer, and approached near enough for bis master to the saddle-horn. It was a last effort, but he held on, and the weight dragged the horse beneath the waters: but he arose with a frightened snort, plunged wildly, and at last, gaining a footing, he stag- ge out of the torrent upon the low bank, while the man and the one he had rescued tot- tered forward and fell their length upon the grassy shore, the one unconscious, the other ex- Panting with his great exertions, the horse stuod watching his master, a des of pity seeming to rest in his most intelligent eves, Utterly prostrated by his herculean efforts, the man lay uaable to move, and his broad breast rose and fell convulsively, as though his breath was struggling to leave his body, Near him, white faced and still as death, lay the limp form of the maiden, whose courage had not failed her through all, but who, when she saw that death had been defeated, had swooned away. 5 Hers was a beautiful face, young, for she was scarcely seventeen and with innocence and love- liness stamped upon every feature, Her clinging riding habit of dark homespun red and sym- feet denoted eutle blood. Herrescuer was a man of twenty- ve, with a smooth-shaven face which revealed _ every feature in its full strength. (It was a striking face, one hard to fathom through, and there was something about it that indicated a fae or whisper wor grace. i \ Wi igde hte ‘ 8 of love with equal courtly Kent Kingdon, the Unmindful of his course and blinded by fear, | who could do a desperate act, Card. King. His hair was dark and cut short; and his eyes | and instead had gotten a letter which told him ! : had a look such as a stag at bay might bold. | His form was athletic, tall, and his movements | full of lazy gracefulness, in spite of the | struggle he had made for life; his own and the | maiden’s, | He was dressed in a suit of corduroy, the pants | being stuck in top boots, and these had’ made the} | Struggle more severe for him in his desperate | swim. over his eyes, and had remained’ there, until, with an impatient gesture he bad thrown it off | a favorite with all as he lay upon the bank, Toa mamof his physique recovery from ex- . to his feet | to’be haustion was rapid; andshe soon arose | and bent over the prostrate form near bim. ) As he did so, the dark-blue eyes opened and gazed full into his‘own. »' ‘“You have saved me from death, Let that act bridge the chasm between your name and mine. The words were uttered in a low tone, full of earnestness, and the answer came almost stern- ly from the -man’s lips: | ‘* Amen!” / ** You know who I am?” she asked. ‘* Yes, you are the sister of Horace Manners, ; whom I killed in a duel!” was the firm reply. She shuddered, but asked: “Did you know me when rescne?” “cc Yes.” “Then the past is wiped out, I pledge you. There is my band on it,” and the man grasped firmly the little outstretched hand, CHAPTER I. SWEETHEART NUMBER THIRTEEN, THREE years prior to the scene just related, and which was in a frontier State, where the houses of settlers were few and far between, and danger from red-skin raids was constantly to be feared by the boli pioneers, a party of young men were gathered in a room in an Eastern college. They were students, and a gay-look- ing set they were. Their faces were Hushed with wine, for they had been out to some mid- night orgie, aud, returning to the college build- ing they had not cared to go to bed, but had as- semblea in the comfortable rooms of one of their number and were enjoying the time ac- cording to their bent. : he rooms were handsomely furnished, a par- lor and bedchamber, and the young man who dwelt in them was the son of a Texan cattle- king, rich, handsome, wild and extravagant, There were prea engravings and prints upon the walls, easy-chairs and a lounge, a side- board with decanters of liquors, swore, pes rifles and shot-guns, Stee ripen She sporting of mind, as well as an artistic one, in the occupant: and man v Mopewe of the chase, from a bear robe to a buffalo head. ; Kent Kingdon was the name of the proprietor of the rooms, and, though a “sport” in college, he was also a studen ; He was an athlete, a dead shot, kept his horse e to its full and his negro valet, and enjoyed li measure of enjoyment. \ > He was popular with professors, and pupils as well, and was generous to a fault, as many a poor student bad had reason to know, And yet he was a man todread! There was somatic about him that begat fear. Perhaps it was the fact that he was known to have “killed his man” in a personal encounter aa a Meche £3 grea sical strength and pistol a rifle, He was a fayorite among t ; many hearts had he.conqu , it was said. Still, with living witnesses of his fickle nature and heartlessness toward the sex, there were not wanting other fair girls to love him, and like ‘moths , Nin flickered about a brilliant flame which they could not but know would cause them sorrow and suffering. As Kent Kingdon has genie t been described as to his face and physique, in the daring borse- man who, several years after his college life had saved Mabel Manners from drowning in a fron- tier river, a description of bim is useless now. In the room with him were half a dozen boon companions, among them a young man of twenty-one, with handsome face and form, and whose name was Horace Manners, He was the son of an Ohio merchant, who was reported’ wealthy, but whom Horace had only the day before discovered was in great financial embarrassment. He had. aeadly aim with you came to my ) io in Texas, and on account of | monument, you know.’ the ladies, and | quivered with passion | : | that not a dollar could be sent, and that he had better square up his matters and prepare to eat | come home and go to work, © } His father told him that he would send him | money to arrange bis accounts with, and to come out home with, but that he must compro- mise as best he could, fora couple of hundreds would be all that he could = Horace Manners was dealt a severe blow by His dark slouch hat was drawn down hard | this letter, He was not an extravagant fellow, and withal who knew him, But he was engaged toa beautiful girl in the village, and it had been agreed that they were married when he graduated, and she was to go with him to his home. e had given her a number of costly presents, and ‘to do this, as his father had been slow in Te- | mitting the past several months, he had bor- rowed money from several friends, That. day, after receiving the letter, he had gone to Kent Kingdon; with whom he was on fairly friendly terms, and asked for a Joan, He wished to pay all his debts, and had pur- chased a Christmas present for his lady-love, which also was to be paid for. When his father’s check came he would pay / back part of the loan to Kingdon and start for home, asking time on the balance, i How much do you want, Manners?” Kent ingdon had asked, promptly, when Horace Manners had asked for a loan, telling him his remittances were delayed. ‘‘ A thousand dollars, and it is a large sum, ingdon.” * A little steep, but I got a handsome check to-day from home, so can oblige ou,” was the reply, and he gave a bank draft for the amount. very dollar that Horace Manners owed in the college and the town were paid, the present was gotten for his lady-love, and he had a bal-’ ance of a hundred or so, after purchasing a gift for Kent Kingdon, It was several nights after that the two, with others, were assembled in Kingdon’s rooms, and enjoying themselves. Suddenly Horace Manners took up a band- some album that lay upon the table, and started as he opened it at a certain photograph. It was the likeness of a young girl of rare beauty, with a dark, Spanishlike face, and eyes that seemed to look into one’s soul. ‘The photograph had been beautifully painted, and beneath it was written; . “SwEETHEART No, 13, “Beautiful, loving, but jealous as a Turk, there- fore dangerous, “We are quits, pans nothing hurt but a heart.” “ ris ; y ! igdon, where did you get this sp eb cried Horace Manners, ietiging to All were startled by his vehement manners, excepting Kent Kingdon, who said: ** Ah, Manners, I see that you have my pri- vate album, which I supposed was locked, “But the picture?” hotly said Manners, “ Ah, Phe that was given me by the lady’s sweet self, when we were love gs.” ‘*Do you mean to say that this lady gave you this picture?” eS. “Yes, and I painted it myself. “Quite well done, is it not?” “ ou mean that you were once lovers?” “ ¥; but she was so devilish jealous, — aa her up, consigned her to the so exacting, loves, and so that picture is her pee grave of buri Horace Manners was as white as a CO} His lips were colorless, and his whole ‘frame ‘Kent Kingdon, this is the likeness of a lady who is to be my wife, vet “She has told me that she never loved another man than myself, never was engaged, and | throw the lie that you bave uttered against her back into your teeth, ; “Shall emphasize it with a blow? All were on their feet and every eye wag upor ent with the utmost coolness said: quite. sufficient cause for insult. : “ By rs way, as the insulted party, let me ask my friend Lawton here. to find out whether Noes prefer pistols or swords, for I haye both _ ere, and suppose we arrange the matter at pints once, for see, the moon is at its fu wecan pir toa suitable spot.” i Wee Sig No man could have spoken with more. erfect coolness, upon an ordinary matter, did Kent Kingdon upon this’ matter of | and | death. ; ‘ ‘ hoe Kingdon, who still remained seated, and, 5 ‘‘ No need of that, Mr. Manners, for the lie is _ - The preliminaries for a hostile meeting wera Tighe
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rg as the slayer was called by the press and the _ secret, until his death, and tha at once arranged, swords wore the weapons chosen, and the whole party adjourned to a wood near by the collage to settle the affair by @ personal combat. CHAPTER III. “4 MURDERER AT LARGE.” So strong was Horace Manners in his trust in the woman to whom he was engaged, that he could not believe that Kent Kingdon had done other than spoken falsely. He had never, in his year at college, heard the name of the lady connected with that of Kingdon, and he believed what she told him, that be was her first and only love, In his fury at Kingdon, bis pain at finding jhis sweetheart’s. picture in a man’s album, Horace Manners forgot everything but a desire to punish the one who had casta slur publicly upon the one he so dearly loved. He would listen to no reason, and the party adjourned to a secluded spot, Manners uttering no word, his face livid, his teeth shut tight upon his lips. He had selected swords as the weapons to be used, and so the two had agreed upon them, for a report of pistols might cause an alarm. The spot was reached, the arrangements were made, and the two seconds placed the weapons in the hands of their he gay ee _ to that moment Kent Kingdon had smoked a cigar, and seemed rather bored than otherwise, at. having to leave his comfortable rooms at that time of night. The moon was at its full, and shone in a per- fectly clear sky, so all was as bright as day almost, and the scene revealed was a striking cone, The students were all flushed with wine, and had drank more deeply before leaving King- don’s rooms, while he joined them, though Horace Manners did not, but went with his sec- ond to his room to get his swords. He was silent, cool, and yet bis heart and brain were on fire. . He was a noted swordsman, but had never ‘crossed blades with Kingdon, though it had been agreed that they should sometime have a bout but it was little thought by their respective champions that it would bea hostile meeting. — When all was in readiness Kent ' Kingdon threw away his cigar, and a moment after the blades came together with an angry clash, The, half-dozen onlookers held their breath in fear and pee es The second of Horace Manners had urged him to disarm Kingdon and give him his life, and the reply had been: ‘«T will doso, and then seek an explanation of the one he has maligned. “Tf she says his words are false, then shall I challenge him again,” The second of Kingdon had made the same request of his principal, and he had responded: “A jife can only wipe out the insult he gave me, Lawton.” : That both were lendid swordsmen was seen ata fiance; but Kingdon seemed to awake from his lazy manner and pressed his adversary from the start. He held no mercy in his heart, and after a fierce combat of several minutes drove his sword through the body of Horace Manners. te wounded man sunk to the ground and said: . ‘God forgive him! he has killed me.’' ‘Tso meant to do,” was the calm reply and Kent Kingdon coolly wiped the blade of his sword and re is way to his rooms. Horace Manners was at once borne to his quarters and a wn sent for, ‘After a thorough examination the surgeon said that he had received his death wound, and must die, though he might live several days, Then the second of Kingdon went to his prin- cipal and told him he must fly. “We have all decided to oe the matter a will give you some time to escape in, so start at once, King- _ don,” » “Teuess it is best, for here they would im- ‘prison me for fighting a duel.” : “They would ene Fos : _ © Ah! that would be bad, so I will go. ‘Sell out my traps here, Lawton, and keep the money until you hear from me, z “Now I will pack off and get away on the early train.” — . ee Two hours after Kent Kingdon wasa fugitive from justice, and Horace Manners dying the following night, the affair became known and large rewards were offered for the murderer, peep. Horace Manners was laid to rest in the little churchyard, upon the hill, and it was said by many that the one to whom he had been en- gaged was utterly heartless, for she had gone to his burial and not a tear had she shed, while her face was calm and emotionless, By a strange coincidence the day after the | about the picture,” said Kent Kingdon, the Card King. RNS APRS 5 ASL AS ST AE TTS EE LEN ENTS SS SIE TEES ETS LETTS TES TS ead from beginning to end, and heard their stor sc did. _ “Perhaps if he had asked Kingdon alone, and in a different manner, he would have explained Doctor Manners, sadly, Y ther my poor boy was too rash in what he funeral, the second of Kent Kingdon, Hugh | addressing Henry Wallpole. Lawton, following the advice given him, dpened the letters coming for his fugitive friend, discov- ered by one that speculation had swamped his father, and that a few thousand dollars had been placed to his credit, all that he need ex- pect from him in the future, When, a month after, Hugh Lawton hada letter from Kent Kingdon, it came from a fron- tier town, and thither his accumulated corre- spondence, and the money from the sale of his things, was sent, In time a reply_came, and it read: **My Dear LAwron:— “It seems that Fate is rather hard upon me, for where I expected 1 large fortune I get nothing but a few paltry thousands, “The sum, however, is sufficient for me to lay the foundation for a fortune here, and I shal] become a ranchero, as in Texas, and hope some day to have you visit me. “IT have knocked about the border pretty gener: ally, under an assumed name; but I hate dodging under a name not my own, so shall settle down in some secluded spot and be known as Kent Kingdon as of yore. s 4 I am tracked here, so be it, I shall abide the result. ‘*Many thanks for your work in my behalf and good friendship. “T note what you say about the fair Number Thir- teen having no heart, or love for poor Manners, ‘“The fact is she has too much heart. *** Still waters run deep,’ and I would not care to face that woman, though I have no make-up of fear in my composition. * Heaven, prosper you, my dear Lawton, and when Iam prosperous expect to hear from me, but not before, as now I am a fagitive, with a few thousands in hand, pluck and determination to carve out my own fortune in whatever part of the world I may be, or in whatever I undertake to do, be it good or bad. *“ Again thanking you, believe me, my dear fellow, “Your fugitive friend, : Ni Kinapon, * Murderer at Large.” And thus it was, with the reception of this letter by Hugh Lawton, Kent Kingdon dropped out of the memory of those who had known him, all excepting one person. ho that one was will be made known in good time. “ CHAPTER IV. THE MASTER OF REFUGE RANCH. In writing to his son, Horace, Doctor Man- ners; ashe was called from having graduated asa physician, though afterward oming a merchant, had told him the truth about his financial affairs, He had indorsed heavily for a friend, whom he supposed to have proteeced him with securi- ties, and when called upon to pay found that the collateral was worthless. Thas he had been forced to the wall. A oe Sao man he had ‘sacrified every- thing pay his creditors, and found himself with but a couple of thousand dollars left, and a family to rae ooh His son had been sent to an Eastern college to receive a fine education, and ‘his daughter, Mabel, a beautiful girl of fourteen was at boarding-school, ‘ ' Doctor Manners had written a letter to his son, telling him all about bis affairs, and inclos- ing a check for three hundred dollars, which he hoped would square up his little debts at col- lege and bring him home, when a telegram came to him, Tt read: va t to say that your son was seriously wounded in a duel with a fellow student last night. “Will give him every care and wire you as to his condition.” | This was signed by Henry Wallpole, the sec- ond of Horace Manners, Bs oe, was on bitter mrs and the —— ent home to convey the news to ife and then to start Kast by the firet train, : Mabel was sent for from boarding school, and Doctor Manners left for the bedside of his son, Ere he arrived Horace Manners had breathed his last; but he was in time for the faneral, and afterward had a long talk with Camille Came- ron, the maiden to whom bis son had been en- ed. sary) that interview nothing was known to out- siders, and then Doctor Manners sought out both Henry Wallpole and Hugh beeen with the other students who had witnessed the fatal gs. / Back to his broken home went Docter Man- ners, and as he sped alung he decided upon his course. He would go to the Far West, homestead some land, and begin the practice of medicine among the settlers. He wished to get away from all who had known him, to hide himself in some spot where he, his ruin, and his sorrows were unknown, To his wife and daughter he told his plans, and one day they wartod with two faithful old family servants, a man and his wife, for taeir new home. Bbey went at random, but happened upon a loeamy that was most desirable. The mud was fertile, the country was heavily timpered, there was good grazing for stock and pienty of streams, He built a substantial and commodious log cabin, furnished it with what he had browse with him, bought some cattle, and hung out his shingle on the front gate. Itread: - “HORACE MANNERS, “* Physician Surgeon.” He named his place Refuge Ranch, and with his wife and daughter took the greatest interest in their new home, : Neighbors were like angels’ visits are said to be, few and far between, for the nearest one was three miles away. But the news of a physician baving settled in the country flew far and wide, and the doctor was called upon to go forty miles from home at times to visit a patient, and his practice soon kept him busy. ne day a band of red-skin Sioux, upon the war-path, swept down upon the settlement and drove off the doctor’s herd of fine cattle, killing one of the cowboys and capturing the other who had charge of them, They were met by a young ranchero ard two of his herders, attacked and defeated, and the cowboy prisoner was rescued and the cattle se- cured toa hoof. — The young ranchero was wounded slightly, and the cowboy who had been rescued hastily drove his cattle back home and made known to the doctor what had occurred. The settlement was already aroused, and the settlers were loud in the praise of the young ranchero, who had lately settled in their neigh- borhood, having bought a ranch and its stock from a widow whose husband had been killed, and who was therefore anxious to return to her old home fn the East. , The doctor had started at once to the ranch to see the wounded for all he had done for him, The ranch was twenty miles away from Ref- uge Ranch, and the furthest one away toward the Indian country. Arriving at the ranch, Doctor Manners had found it a comfortable piace, and saw tbat there were numbers of cattle grazing near, with a dozen cowboys watching them. To a cowboy who approached him, he said: ‘* How is the ranchero, may I ask i “He is wounded, pard; got hurted in a scrim- e with the red-skins yesterday.” ‘Yes, sol beard, and it was in rescuing one m of my herders and saving my cattle, for which I am most grateful to him.” “You has cause to be, pard.” “ Will hee go on with me and tell him Doctor Manners has called to see him? “Til go, for the cap’n is wounded pretty severe I guesses, though he says it’s nothing,” They rode on tothe cabin together and the | cowboy went in with his message. , He soon returned with a puzzled look on his © face, and said: fate cap’n says, pard, he don’t want no doc- r. ‘ . 1 “But, my dear sir, am anxious to see him, ) Rar a him and ‘serve him for all he has one. . *T told him so; but he sa “no.” think, for this seems like a message from suffe with fever, “Doctor Horace . physician and surgeon, tell him” ’ i 2 Ven waihy Wi * oung man, and thank him - 4 “‘T fear he is more severely worn yu | Lies Se
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4 Kent Kingdon, the Card King, The man again disappeared and soon returned with the remark: “*The capt’in told me to tell you, pard, that his name was Kent Kingdon, and he guessed as how you didn’t want to see him.” ““ Kent Kingdon ! my God!” and the doctor fairly staggered under the blow. For a moment he stood 1n silence, his face very pale, and said slowly: “Go and tell Mr. Kent Kingdon that I come as a professional man, in the line of my duty to a human being, and neither as friend or foe. “Tell him that if his wound is-slight, never mind; but if serious, then I think he should see me ” The cowboy looked surprised, but went off with his message. In a short while he returned, and said: “Cap'n Kingdon says he’ll see you, sir, pro- fessionally, and thanks you, for he bas a bullet in his side somewhere.” Doctor Manners’s lips quivered for an instant, and he seemed very nervous; but conqueripg his emotion, he said: ‘*Lead me to him.” CHAPTER V. DON, THE CARD KING. AFTER his flight from his college room, fol- lowing the fatal duel with Horace Manners, Kent Kingdon had .gone, as thousands have before him, to seek a haven of refuge in the far est, He had laid his plans so as to elude all pur- suit, changed his nume, and one day found him- self in a border town with but Jittle money left. Then he wrote to Hugh Lawton, and received the letter telling him of the loss of his father’s fortune, and inclesing drafts under his assumed name, for the amount of the sales of his furni- ture and other things in his rooms, ** Well, ’ve got my fortune in my band,” he said grimly, and he paced the floor for a long while in deepest meditation. But he was no man tobe cast down by ill. luck, and he rallied quickly. “*T must do something for a living, so what shall it be? Pra I hate work, and I won’t work, so that settles “No one out Koa needs a fencing, or dancing master, and as for teaching a man how to shoot, they are all experts with a gun. “Tm a passable engineer, but it will be some time before a railroad penetrates these wilds, ‘Digging in the mines is work, no matter what the pay, so I must look to something else. “Tecan turn cowboy, but that is a hard life, thouzh a lazy one. : **Let me see! I play an excellent game of cards, in fact, was called an expert with the _ pasteboards. tell | ~ eomin “Tl practice up and cast my fortune on ance. “Tl turn gambler, that’s what I'll do, for I have a good nerve, quick eye and steady hand, and a gambler meen i s all three, especially in these parts. ; “Yes, Pil turn gambler.” And turn gambler he did, playing with strange success, and be- nown in the border camps as Don the Card he From p to place he drifted, until one night ina frontier town, a stranger, who had | ae woah boldly told him that he was a card Kingdon had several times been in scenes where his nerve and coolness had saved his life, and he had the reputation wherever he was known, for being a very dangerous man, one whom it was not well to arouse, \ All eyes were upon him when the insult was given, and they saw that he was wholly un- moved, In fact his voice was strangely musical and even as he asked: é' ** My friend, where do you hail from?” “Down in the Blue Va’ ley,” was the gruff re- ply. v Your name, please?” “Ben Crawford, and wholly at your service, you infernal card sharp.” Not a shadow crossed the Card King’s face at - this, but he asked: ; “H ow much do you consider yourself worth, ‘Mr. Ben Crawford “Tm worth enough to wipe you out, if you meet me.” “ Ad Bye a miner, settler or cattleman, please me - “Dve got a snug farm, down in Blue Valley, home on it, plenty of cattle and owe if oo 1 Well now I have double the value of et | kag property in that iron box there, and, Mr. n Crawford, as you seem to desire to beat me, and have insulted me before all these peo- ple, let me tell you that Pll meet you now in this room, with rifle, revolver or bowie-knife, =~ if you kill me you take my money with my ife. “Tf [kill youthen I take your farm and all on it, so make out the papers.’ “Pve got a wife.” ‘*That’s unfortunate for her; but she shall not suffer, I promise.” “Pll see you, Don, the Card King, so just name your weapons,’ shouted Ben Crawford excitedly. ‘* First let us draw up the papers, as to our property.” This was done, and then Kingdon said: ‘** Now, sir, what is your choice, in the way of a weapon.” “Revolvers, with no limit as to shots, as long as We can shoot, and each stand across this room against the wall, and Landlord Ross here to give the word to fire.” **T am willing, sir, so let us take our posi- tions,” was the cool reply of Kingdon. There were those present who knew Ben Crawford as a dead shot and a bad man when wronged, as he considered that he hadjbeen, and they peepee that the gambler had met his match, But the extreme coolness of Kingdon reassured others in his favor, and the betting, for there were many bets taking in that wild crowd upon Le result, was rather in favor of the Card ing. Landlord Ross, the proprietor of the place which was tavern, bar, gambling saloon and stage station combined, step forward to play his part in the tragedy to be enacted, and his manner seemed to imply that he was rather pleased with the honor done him of giving the word to fire. “Gents, take yer stands, if you please,” he said with a smile meant to be courtly. ; The two men stepped to their positions in silence, while the crowd divided into two parts, and stood on either side of the duelists. They had divided themselves in regard to their bets, with the Card King’s friends on one nae a and Ben Crawford’s admirers on the other. ‘*Gents, is yer bets all made and Mapes gana ed on the result o’ this death-duel?” called out Landlord Ross, with an eye to business, and ac- commodation to the lookers-on, A few bets more were offered and taken, and then the landlord said: ‘* Fightin’ Pards, is yer ready?” “T certainly am,” was the calm onse of Pay Card King, while Ben Crawford said, gruf- y: x ‘Yes, go ahead, for I want to win the money I have bet on myself.” A laugh went around at this plucky answer, and then came the wards of Landlord Ross: “Then shoot!” Whether Ben Crawford had expected such a sudden response to his request or not, no one knew, but certainly the bullet from the Card King’s pistol was through his heart before he pulled trigger. Still he fired, and his bullet was well-aimed, for adying man, asit grazed the cheek of his enemy, though ‘the wound was hardly to be counted as such, With the shot he fell dead in his tracks, and tbose who had wagered upon the Card King as the victor made the place ring with their cheers, while those who had lost were wise enough to hold their peace, and thus a free fight was avoided. CHAPTER VI. THE MASTER OF RECLUSE RANCH. THE Card King took the killing of Ben Craw- ford ver ssa gn bo E i He ordered the man buried, saying: ‘“As I am his heir I will pay all expenses, landlord.” Then be had drinks set up all round, and went on with his game of cards as though noth- ing unusual had happened, he next day he started on horseback for the Valley, to see about bis legacy from Craw- ord, He found a comfortable home in a charming part of the country, and there was every ap- pearance of a thrifty place, and that the farmer was well supplied with this world’s goods for a dweller in the Far West. The wife was a pleasant-faced woman ‘of forty, who received er visitor with civility, and at once asked: — — “1 eat pghh ' 7 Me x * We eres Pa AP sg ““Do you come to tell me aught of my hus band, sir?” ‘*T regret to say that I do, madam.” “*Oh, tell me what bas happened?” cried the woman. ‘‘ Your husband got into a game of cards with a gambler known as Don, the Card King. ‘“*He accused him of cheating, and the result was a duel in which the gambler killed him.” ‘*My Heaven! I have dreaded evil ever since I came to this country,” and the poor woman buried her face in her hands. ‘“You have my deepest sympathy, madam, I assure you, and, as your busband left to me the settlement of his affairs, my advice to you is that you had better at once go East to your friends, for I will give you a fair cash value for your home, horses and cattle; in fact, all as it stands,” ‘You are very kind, sir; but to think of Ben being killed, and by a gambler, when he was the deadest of shots and as brave as a lion, ‘What was the cause of it, sir?’ and the woman’s admiration for her husband’s prowess caused her anxiety as to how he had been worsted to momentarily outweigh her grief. ‘He was not quite quick enough on the shoot, madam.” " “‘ Why, he was lightning, all said, in drawing’ and emptying a weapon.” ‘Tt may be, madam, but the other man was a trifle quicker,” was the cool reply. Then the Card King added, peor yer A ‘* Your husband died game, and with his boots: on, my dear Mrs, Crawford, and I bad him buried with all honor,” ‘* He was your friend, then, sir?” “We were most intimately connected up to the last moment of his life. ‘Tn fact, I may say I was the last man that he stretched out his hand toward in life.” ‘* Poor Ben!” moaned the widow. “ He is out of all pain and sorrow, Mrs. Craw- " ‘Yes, I think we should be resigned when our loved ones are taken from us, as they go to a far happier land.” ‘* So I’ve heard, madam.” ‘“‘-You have heard, sir? ‘Why, do you not know that they do?” ““Of course we are so taught, Mrs,Crawford, and you are a brave woman to bear your grief so well.” “Will you not tell me ycur name, sir, that I may treasure it in my memory?” ‘ My name is Kent Kingdon, Mrs. Crawford; but do you care to accept my offer to buy your home?” “It is worth, with the furniture, the land an stock. all of five thousand dollars, sir.” ‘“*You have mentioned the sum I meant to offer you, and the money is ready for you now, so L would advise that you lose no time in going eastward.” : “J will start to-morrow, sir, for J can go in our ambulance to the stage station.” ‘‘And I will accompany you that far, my dear Mrs, Crawford.” And he did, for he was anxious that the widow should meet no one who might tel! her the whole truth, He put her into the stage, after buying her ticket for her, had her trunk and traps put in the boot, and ‘raised his slouch hat in torduoll But she grasped his band ard said earnestly, while the tears streamed from her eyes: en. is “Oh, Mr. Kingdon, you have been so good to me, and I do hope you can manage to have that heed of my poor busband captured and anged. ie ever you do, write me, for I have given you my address,” h He smiled grimly, raised bis hat again, and the Widow Crawford rolled away in the stage, - little dreaming. who it was that had been so kind to her in her grief. ' Charmed with the ranch of Ben Crawford, Kent Kingdon decided to make it his home, and he did so, A . The settlers about him called, but though he treated them politely, he never returned their visits, and kept so thoroughly to himself that he soon became known as the Recluse, Hearing himself, so called, he named his place Recluse Ranch, @ lheving that the handsome stranger cared not to see them. : : He was considered rich, for those parts, his place was well kept up, his cattle increased in numbers, and he seemed greatly to enjoy the lonely life he led away from his fellow-men, for he did not associate even with the cowboys on his ranch. _ Several times he had rendered the settlers soon no oue went there, be- . 7 2 — i ‘ % a hak | ' - vy, > er -) t | Yr J} ek fa wee Phy ; Ale e's i) A. p.
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Kent Kingdon, the Card King. ae = '» good service in the raids made by the Sioux upon the settlement, and it was on such an oc- «casion that Doctor Manners’s herder and cattle had been taken by him from the red-skins, not many months after the coming of the Mannerses tu the settlement. Having shown in part the career of Kent Kingdon, since he fled after his duel with Horace Manners and became a fugitive, I will now return to the time when Doctor Manners _ visited Recluse Ranch and found in the wounded ' man the slayer of his son. D a CHAPTER VII, A MAN’S HUMANITY, THE cabin of Recluse Ranch was certainly a most comfortable one, and there were many re- minders about it of the Widow Crawford. She had been a good housewife, and rug car- pets covered the floors, there were book-shelves filled with books, comfortable arm-chairs, and many evilences about of what might be called luxuries in that frontier land. The cabin had five rooms, one being a kitchen in the rear, and two large rooms on either side of a large hallway, which could be closed in in winter and left open in summer. On one side were the dining-room and kitchen, and the bedroom of Kent Kingdon. The other rooms across the hall he did not use, and they were always closed. Back of the cabin was a smaller one in which his Chinee servants, two in number, dwelt, and they did all the work about the house, the garden and stables, the cowboys, half a dozen in number, living in another cabin a short distance from the main house. On entering the room where the wounded man Jay, Dr. Manners was surprised at the air of aga and neatness resting upon all about im, A lounge was drawn up by the open window, and upon it lay Kent Kingdon. ' He was pale, and his face showed that he was ‘suffering. The appearance of the man was striking, and, in spite of the pain he felt, he had an open book an bas hand, while a Chinee sat near him waving va fan. ; “Mr. Kent Kingdon, [ presume?” said Dr, Manners, in a cold tone, Kent Kingdon saw a tall man, with a fine face, full of intelligence, but wearing a disturb- ed look just then. ‘His manners, though cold, were courtly, and he had evidently smothered pride and deep re- pugnance to do an act of humanity. “Tam Kent Kingdon, sir, and you are Doctor Horace Manners?” ‘‘Tam, and Icame to thank you for the ser- ‘vice you rendered me, and also to aid you all in amy power.” **You are most kind, sir.” ** No, [ am but humane, ‘“*T knew not who you were until I came, but thad I done so, I still should have come. / **Now let me .examine your wound, sir, for your looks show that it is serious.” , _ “Quite so, for the bullet entered my side, but just what damage it has done, I, of course, do not padi ou are very good, sir.” The doctor made no reply to this, He opened his case of surgical instruments, asked the Chinee to get him a bowl of warm water, and drawing aside the clothing, looked ‘intently at the wound, | “It is in a dangerous place, sir,” said the doc- tor, recalling the fact that the sword of Kent Kingdon had pierced the body of his son at, about the same spot. ‘*T have had reason to know that, sir, ‘** Will you probe for the bullet?” . “Yes, and I regret to say that I have no chloroform or ether to give you.” “Tt matters not, sir; I am no child to wince from pain.” **f have some brandy, however—” ‘“*T never touch liquor now, sir, of any kind, thank you. . ; den doctor gazed with increased interest at D. Me peniedtbacea that Hugh Lawton had told him that the duel followed a scene of dissipa- on. Had not Kent Kingdon tasted wine since that fatal night to Horace Manners? he Chinee now brought the warm water, and the doctor, as gently as though he were dealing with @ chil , | shag the wound. ~ The man bore the pain without a word, though his face became deathly pale, and Dr. “Manners asked: ‘Had you not better take a glass of brandy?” 7 fe: ” 7 NS Ue Re Re omen eT f ‘* No, sir, do not mind me, please, but go on with your work.” The physician did so, and, after giving the wounded man much pain, drew out the bullet. ** There it is, sir, and I may tell you that your wound, though serious, is not fatal.” ** Thank you.” ° The doctor then dressed the wound, declined the invitation to remain to dinner, and telling Kent Kingdom that he would come over again in a couple of days, mounted his horse and rode away. ** Ah! that sucha splendid man as he appears to be should have clouded his whole life by slay- ing a friend—that friend my boy. ** But I have done but my.duty, and I know that my good wife will uphold me in my act.” So mused the good doctor as he wended his way homeward. It was night when he reached Refuge Ranch, but a bright light shone from the window to welcome him, and Mabel, as lovely as a fairy, threw her arms around his neck with a greeting. ** Did you see the man who served us so well, Horace?” asked Mrs, Manning, as, with slippers and dressing-gown on, the doctor sat down in nis easy-chair to await supper. *“ Yes, I saw him, and he was badly wounded, though not fatally so, Ellen.” “*T am glad indeed of that.” ~ “*T will have to give you pain, Ellen, my dear wife, hy referring to the bitter past; but I deem it best to tell you.” : mals Horace! is there more ill in store for us?” 7 ‘No, I hope not; but you have heard that a young man bought the Crawford ranch and lives there?” yea.” ** Well, he is the one who saved our cattle from the Indians and rescued Cowboy Kit.” ** Indeed!” “T had heard tnat the new owner was living a secluded life there, but never knew his name until my arrival there to-day. ** Then I learned from one of his cowboys that his name was Kent Kingdon !” “The murderer of our noble boy?” and the Wwoman’s eyes flashed fire. ‘“* The man who killed brother Horace, papa?” said Mabel. ‘* The same,” ** You will have him arrested and—” ** No, wife, I will do nothing of the kind. ‘“There was a duel fought, and in a far Eastern State, and it has been some time ago, “The man lost his fortune and is here trying to make an honest living,and a strange acci- dent brought him near us, ““He is a perfect recluse, calls his home Re- cluse Ranch, and I feel certain deeply regrets the past, while he refused to touch brandy when he needed it sorely, but let me probe his wound without a word. ‘He refused to see me, when 1 sent in my name; but I insisted in the name of humanity an‘ he yielded, “‘T extracted the’ bullet, dressed his wound, and will make him several more visits to see that feVer does not set in. “*] shall do my duty by him, and then the abyss between us remains as before and we go on separate ways in life.” ‘“Ah, my noble bhnsband, you are a man among many, and I cannot but uphold you in your humane action and say Heaven bless you. tp But did he speak of our boy?” - oO. 4 “ He did not refer to him?” “‘Tndirectly he said that he had reason to know thet the bullet, which was near his heart, was in a dangerous locality, and I thought that he referred to the fatal wound he gave poor Horace. ** Now let us not refer to the matter again, and I am glad to see supper is ready, for I re- fused dinner there, and am very hungry, I as- sure you,” and Doctor Manners banished from his face all signs of sorrow and worry and both mother and daughter also appeared cheerful; but not one of the three cone banish the remem- brance of the fatal duel in which one so dear to them had been killed, and that the who one had riven the sword into his heart had found an abiding place not far from them. CHAPTER VIII. UNDER A CLOUD. - IT was nearly two years after the visit of tt Beg os to ag wounded master of Re- cluse ch, that the se i sor ocourred, ene capi: opens this The doctor had paid several visits to Kent Kingdon, and then had told him there was no further need of his services, and so bade him gar hee i ante ‘eis ‘*TIs there nothing that I can do to repay y Doctor Manners, for your kindness to inet? asked Kingdon. ** Nothing, sir.” ‘You have refused pecuniary pay for your services?” ** Yes,” ‘ ‘* And leave me under obligations to you which you will not permit me to cancel?” ‘*There is no obligation, sir, and I am repaid in having done my duty.” Thus they parted, and the master of the ranch beceme more of a recluse, it was said, than ever. Certain it is that those at Refuge Ranch never met him in their rides, and yet, several times when the Sioux had threatened the settlement, Kent Kingdon and his cowboys bad rendered valuable services. One night there was a raid into the settle- ment, the red-skins striking near the ranch of Doctor Manners. A fierce fight followed, for the Indians were ambushed by a party of horsemen, and the Sioux retreated in wild haste, leaving a large number of dead upon the field. : The firing had reached the ears of those at Refuge Ranch, and Doctor Mamners and his cowboys had mounted and hastened to the scene. But the fight was over, only the dead Indians } and several cowboys held the field, and victors and vanquished were gone. The Sioux retreated to their mountain fast- nesses without doing any damage to the settle- ment, and the next day the news ran through the valley of their terrible defeat. How it was that Kent Kingdon and his half- score of cowboys had whipped so severely a force five times their numbers, the settlers could not understand; but certain it was, in a fierce fight of half an hour the Indians had been beaten off, and, but for the ranchero and his men, Doc- tor Manners would haye lost his home, and far worse, perhaps, his life and the lives of those most dear to him. Again he wended bis way to Recluse Ranch, to thank the young ranchero, for by him only had the coming of the Sioux been known. But Kent Kingdon was absent, no one seemed to know for how long, and, after looking after the several wounded cowboys, the doctor re- turned home, all the information that he was able to glean from the men being that their captain, as they called the ranchero, had dis- covered the coming of the Indians, and, calling his cowboys together, bad ambushed them. And so time passed on, Kent Kingdon remain- ing close in the seclusion of his home. Other settlers came to the Blue Valley, and the dwellers there began to grow rich and pros- perous, in spite of an occasional raid of red- skins and the robberies of Overland Knights, who now and then struck a severe blow upon the community, The practice of Dr, Manners increased, and he had begun to lay by a very handsome little for- tune for his old age. Thus matters stood when one day Mabel Man- ners, grown into beautiful womanhood, rode out in the afternoon, as was often her wont, and got caught in a heavy storm that swept over t country. , ‘ A splendid, plucky rider, she yet bad Jost con- trol of her fright-maddened horse, and, but for Kent Kingdon’s presence, she would have ended her young life then and there, Perhaps it had been better for ber had she lost her life that day in the swollen river. Fl ranchero was returning from one of his rides, for he often went off for days at a time, and had taken refuge in the pine thicket to wait for the storm to blow over, when he be- held the horse and his young rider dash forward into direst peril, The rescue, daring as it was desperate, the reader has seen, and more, he has seen Mabel Manners extend her hand to the man who saved her life, and tell bim that his noble act had wiped out the cruel and bitter past. ‘“*My poor Black Fawn is dead, for she sunk ‘under the waters when she sprung over the “She was punished for scaring you so badly, Miss Manners; but mit me to offer youa seat behind my saddle, and escort you home— at least to your gate?” “T accept the offer, sir, on condition that you cross our threshold and meet my parents, ‘ “We have been indebted to you, Mr, King- don, for having saved our home from flames, and our lives, too, perhaps, so you must. not refuse to go with me,”
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i *‘As you please, Miss Manners,” was the an- swer, and raising her to a seat back of his sad- dle, be also mounted, and rode away in the di- rection of Refuge Ranch. On the way there Mabel found him very en- tertaining, and when they reached her home he aided her to alight with the air of a courtier. * Permit me to leave you here, Miss Manners, and to suggest that you at once change your wet clothes for dry. ‘Tam more than happy to have served you,” He raised his hat as he spoke, turned and sprung into his saddle and dashed away like the wind, He had not cared to enter the house of the Mannerses while he was under a cloud, whose shadow fell upon his heart, try as he might to banish it, CHAPTER IX. A FATEFUL MEETING, ‘“* Wirm, have you it in your soul to forgive that man?” So had asked Doctor Manners as the two had sat together that night in the pleasant sitting- room at Refuge Ranch, The man he referred to was Kent Kingdon. The father~and mother had heard Mabel’s story, had heard what she had said to him, and knew how he had dashed away without crossing their threshold. * They owed to him their daughter’s life, They owed it him on more than one occasion that their home had not been burned and them- selves killed or carried into captivity, and all their savings wiped out, their cattle and horses driven off, all in a night's time. But they owed it too to Kent Kingdon that their loved boy had died on the very entrance to a noble manhood, Could the good deeds done by the ranchero blot out the one deed that had fallen so heavily upon their hearts? f Doctor Manners had gyn Mabel a strong, hot drink and sent her to and so the two, husband and wife, sat together Hg over the story which their daughter had to Tn answer to the doctor’s question, Mrs. Man- ners dropped her head in her hands, ‘She was stiJl young, scarcely over forty, and yet there were gray hairs upon her temples, called there by deepest sorrow, Could she forgive the man who had killed her ? bo Could the fact that he had saved the life of Mabel wipe out the past? It was not a question to answer so she thought over it. He had shunned them, she knew. / He had seemed to feel deeply, the doctor had said, and remorse must gnaw at his heart. Still she remembered the story, as truthfully told by her husband, that their son gave the ' provocation. : Horace Manners was not altogether blame- less, they knew. Still he layin his grave and Kent Kingdon had put him there, The two hoped and believed that the Recluse Ranchero had repented of his deed over and over again, fled the night quickly, and Of his fugitive life, since he had of the fatal duel, they knew nothing. They did not know that he was called Don, the Card King. They did not know that his long, lonely pil- grimages were to the mining-camps, and wild rder towns, to meet kindred spirits around the gaming board, ‘They only knew that he had hidden there in _ their midst, and seemed to bea man who wish- ew / Vit habye Ty EN _ given hereafter for any sin that - mitted proven hi _ . The next day ed to atone for the past, _ At last Mrs, Manners had decided, and she raised her head from her hands, _ Her face was pale, and her voice trembled as shespoke. _ \ “Horace, I forgive him, as I Hope to be for- have ¢>m- "4 Asi him to come to us; but oh! do not ask me to grasp his hand in welcome, the hand that. drove the sword into the heart of my darling _ Son, and took from him his life, “Yes, ask him ta come to us, for he has If our friend.” ’ Recluse Ranch ‘on his mission of peace-mak- e was met by Kent Kingdon as he dismount- from his horse, and the latter said: Doctor ‘Manners, I feel that because I was / ’ after her return, Doctor Manners rode to the ——— ee eS eee ee ee ene eee ee ie . | Kent Kingdon, the Card King, . : RS aT GA De ede URC at SA Ah ac ACEP SR SRD PS TRU mace es ae EEE SESE ESET SATE PO RAR ET OE SS SST RN Pe RET so fortunate yesterday, as to save the life of your daughter, you deem it your duty to come here to see me, ‘* Pray do not thank me, but feel that my act has been my own recompense.” ‘Mr. Kingdon, Iam glad to come here, glad to tell you that though you took from us one child, you restored another to us, and both my wife and myself beg that. the past shall be buried between us and that vou return with me tomy home that she may thank you from the fullness of her heart,” ‘Will not her very thanks remind her of the curses that she must have heaped upon my head?” ‘* No, for she has never cursed you. ‘* Bitterly has she grieved, yes, as I have, and Mabel has; but we held not hatred in our hearts, ‘*Come with me, Mr, Kingdon.” ** Not to-day, Doctor Manners; but some day soon I will come, and I will meet you all, ‘as I wish to do; but not now, not to-day.” Doctor Manners did not urge it; but he showed that he was sincere by remaining to dinner at the ranch, and a good dinner it was for Wing-Wing, the Chinese cook fairly ex- celled himself in honor of the guest, Several days after Kent Kingdon rode up to the Refuge Ranch, and he was met by Doctor Manners, who ushered hirn into the pleasant sit- ting-room, made trebly comfortable and invit- ing through the taste and work of Mabel. few moments after Mabel glided in, and with only the slightest hesitation said, as she ex- tended her hand: “T am glad to have the opportanity, Mr. Kingdon, to offer you my thanks again, and to tell you how deep is my gratitude for the life you saved,” ‘** Pray do not refer to it, Miss Manners, for I did only that which any man would do. **T trust you have suffered no ill effects from your adventure?” ‘None, I assure you; but let me present my mother, Mr. Kingdon,” Mrs, Manners had glided noiselessly into the room, unseen by her husband, who was gazing out of the window, while his thoughts were far away. H Perhaps they were upon the grave of his son in the New England churchyard, and how strange it was that be had just welcomed to bis home the slayer of that son. At least, whatever his thoughts, he did not see his wife enter, and so (Mabel presented her. The mother was pale, very pale; but calm. She halted, hesitated, and for an instant it seemed that she would break down. She was face to face with the man whom she had called a murderer, nh Face to face with the man who bad slain her first-born. The ghost of that son seemed to rise up before het with reproach, | _ But the daughter he had saved was there, present with her. One glance into the beautiful face of that iy tag and she said in a low, firm voice: “** Mr. Kingdon, I an glad to welcome you to Refuge Ranch, that I may tell you how a mother’s heart is full of gratitude to you for saving the life of her child.” The words were strange ones, for they almost summoned up the specter of Horace Manners from the grave, But they were spoken earnestly, and the wo- man meant them, At the moment of their utterance she would have grasped his hand had be held it out. | But he did not, He was perfectly cool, but subdued in manner, and he bent low before the one upon whose head his act had fallen with terrific weigh t. y He bent low, almost as one might bow before an altar, aud then replied: | “You can feel no more FD Ra your daughter’s escape from death, Mrs, Manners, than do I joy in baving been the humble means of saving her, “But what a pleasant home you have here, not at all like a border home within,” and he gazel about bim admiringly, having quickly turned the subject, ‘My busband says that vou also have a pleas- ant home, sir,” said Mrs, Manners, “ Yes, I like it, madam, and my Chinese ser- ae, for I have two, brothers by the name of co ne and Ding-Ding, keep it as neat as a Thus did Kent Kingdon skillfully turn the conversation from any more thanks, or refer- ence to aught that might con up the past, and, after half an hour's visit he took his depar- 0 ture, promising to call again at an early day. MAK, fy Cayitas | YR oe rare We ole os LAr } a * CHAPTER X. | A HEART IN BONDAGE. TrvuE to his word, Kent Kingdon did cal} again at Refuge Ranch. And he called again and again. Ever dignified, yet a brilliant conversation- alist, with a fund of story and anecdote, he was a man to fascinate those with whom he came in contact, He sung well, played a good game of chess and whist, while he was noted for his nerve and skil} With firearms and as a horseman. His courage had been put to the test time and again, and it was not a wonder that with such a man often with her, and owing to him her life, that Mabel Manners lost her heart. "ee There was a certain mysterious fascination about the man which added to her love for bim. He visited no other family than that of Boc- tor Manners, and seemed stil] Sthe recluse that he had been called. His visits at first gave no alarm to the watchful doctor and his wife; but at length they began to fear that Mabel was becoming very deeply interested in the man. She was very young, and he was dangerous . company for one of her loving and impulsive nature, They received him in their heme, yes, under existing circumstances, and he had won their regard and respect; but then he could never be: more to them, "nf The grave between them must ever be a bar- rier to Mabel’s loving him. So they thought, but they were wrong. The young girl was becoming daily and hourly more interested in the handsome man, She knew not his character. His life in the mining-camps, as Don the Card King, was unknown to her, and no oné sus- pected him of being other than he appeared to- 4 eC. He had a pleasant home, money, and was a courtly gentleman, educated and brilliant, He was a man who could lead a desperate charge, was as braveas a lion, and ever ready to stand between danger and his friends, She knew him only as she saw him. What he had been was an unread book, save that he bad been a little wild at college, and had taken her brother’s life, Viewed from the standpoint of her love for the man, she began to even condone his duel with Horace Manners, considering that her brother had been the offender. ' It, was pitiful to see how the man thus gained an influence over her, warping her views to his own way of thinking. i He loved her in return, yes. Perhaps the very thought that there was a barrier between them quickened that love, He was determined, too, to make her his wife, He would allow no obstacle to bar bis way, and he set about his plans with deliberation aad ct. i ' One day Doctor Manners said to his daughter: “Mabel, don’t you think Captain Kingdon visits us too often?” He was called captain, as the cowboys had organized a company of Rangers and made hiny their leader. . **1 do not know father, “What do you think?” was the reply. ““T do think so.” ‘“‘ And mother?” { ‘* Thinks as I do,” “You don’t like him then, sir?” ¢ “Yes, but under circumstances as they are, I do not feel that he can ever be any nearer to us than he is,” ‘© T do not understand you, father!” ‘* Well, my child, I have seen of late that his visits are to you.” : “To me, father?” iy AE “Yes, Mabel, and I fear you are becoming in- terested in him, and so speak tosave you pain, as, with Kingdon himself, of course he can never be more- to. es than an acquaintance, a friend if you will. + ‘\'You refer to his having killed brother Horace?” ’ MN Yes, that isa barrier which love even cannot Rae r : Mabel sighed, but said ‘notbing, and Doctor Manners, feeling that be had done his duty in giving his daughter a warning, said no more then upon the subject. . Lie, To his, surprise, and bbregeite, however, the frequent visits of Kent Kingdon ceaced, e still came, but it ws generally when he ed not to care to be alone with One day the doctor said: felt sure of seeing the whole ae he seem- — a . : ’ : no objection whatever to Captain -
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Hh, ; i ee % | Ye | at " & nV } 4 nm yh pag Ea — a ras &> ~ SRM a : Refuge Ranch, and their home was (> “CHAPTER ‘XI. ae hen TRACKED. THE captain of the Cowboy Rangers, Kent Kingdon, went upon bis raid against the Sioux, exppor ug a company of United States cavalry _ whicb had been sent out from the fort, and the i 4 heard her pacing to and fro for a long time’ Not only had the Sioux been getting very troublesome, but there was a road-agent band infesting the Overland Stage Trails, and also making raids upon settlers, and the mining- camps, who bad become very bold in their depre- dations, They were known as the ‘‘ Overland Owls,” and their plan was never to rob, or hold upa stage-coach except by night. They wore masks, which had the appear- ance of an owl’s face, for they were made of feathers, Who they were no one knew, and where their retreat was had never been found out, They would strike the Overland Trail, for a distance of, over a hundred miles, and places further apart than thai would be robbed by them the same night, Upon these robbers, the Overland Owls, Cap- tain Kingdon had also received orders to strike whenever he got an opportunity to do so, and the settlers for many miles around were ever ready to give him a helping hand. The expedition against the Sioux had been a iyobeeathl DoA, and Captain Kingdon’s Cowboy Rangers were complimented by the army officer in command for their gallant services, On the way back to the settlement he had de- cided to make a move against the Overland Owls, and taking only his own men, he went in search of the robbers, and upon his return the settlers were rejoiced to learn that be had cap- tured and hanged four of them, The way of the Cowboy Rangers upon their return, lay near Refuge Ranch, and leaving bis men to continue on home without him, Kent Kingdon decided to ride by and see tle doctor's family, in spite of his looking rather seedy after his long hunt in the mountains. He fairly started with amazement when he saw that the cabin was completely closed up, and there was no sign of life about the place, He saw a cowboy coming out of a cabin not Sry distant, and spurred his tired horse toward im. ‘Why, Clay, where are tbe people?” he cried, “*Doctor Manners got word, cap’n, that called him East, and so’ they all went, bag and bag- gage, and left the place to be sold. “They left good-by for you, sir.” A curse came through the shut teeth of King- ou. ‘*Where have they gone?” he asked, in a hoarse voice, **T don’t know, sir.” Without a word Kingdon wheeled his horse and rode away. He went back on the main trail for a short distance, turned into a side path, and soon drew rein at the log where Dr. Manners had seen Mabel seated with him. Dismounting, he glanced into one end of the log and drew out a letter. e broke it open and hastily read a few lines, and then said, in a voice that was hoarse with suppressed feeliig: ** ‘4 heaven! but I shall follow her there, ** She shall not escape me.” eit Se upon his horse he rode rapidly on toward his home. * Night came on, and with it a drizzling rain, but he did not seem to notice it, and held on his way. Three days after he Jeft Recluse Ranch alone, and took the trail leading toward the stage sta- tion on the Overland. Leaving his horse at the station, he the next ig took passage on the stage for the East. n the mean time Doctor Manners and his family had reached St. Louis, a pleasant house had been rented and the Bis epee) hung out his sign as a practicing M. D. he doctor had been originally from St. Louis, so had many friends there, an of a good practice. ] ‘ It was not ver cy, Bar! friends called, and once seen, Mabel Manners became a belle in society, ere she had been two months in the city. er father was anxious to have her receive attention and mingle in society, and bad worked to this end, boping that she would be made to forget Kent Kingdo , : ut Mabel was true in her love, and though she appeared happy her thoughts often turned to Refuge Ranch and the handsome captain of 7 wet Rangers. ne day, as she was riding on. horseback in the Park, attended by a We adinirer, she suddenly beheld a horseman coming toward her, i ; “See how that fellow sits in his saddle, Miss Manners?” said her escort, F Her eyes were already upon him, | he felt assured’ Kent Kingdon, the Card King. 7 But one man had she ever seen ride as that horseman did. But one such form did she know, and only one such face was there in the world to her. She turned very pale, and then her face crime soned up quickly, She saw that it was Kent Kingdon, and he had heen for weeks in the town looking for an opportunity to see her alone. As no chance had offered, he was now deter- mined to address her, and he raised bis hat as he’ rode forward and said: ‘Why, Miss Mabel, how glad I am to see you. ‘* What an unexpected pleasure.” She grasped bis hand, and yet she knew that he had come there to seek ber, ‘My friend, Captain Kingdon, Mr. Preble,” she said, introducing the two, and she added: ‘* Captain Kingdon is an old frontier friend of ours, and I did not know he was in the city. ‘* Wich your permission will not the captain join us?” asked Preble politely, though he hoped that he would refuse. : ‘* Thank you, yo; but I ride every afternoon in the Park at this time, and this is a favorite place with me, the view is so fine, so I shall see you again, Miss Mabel.” \ She understood his words perfectly, that he meant for ber to come there the next afternoon alone. Then, after a few words more they parted, Preble remarking: ‘* What a splendid fellow Manners. ‘“* Now, he is the kind of man I should think the very one to win a woman’s heart.” ‘““You can never judge of a woman’s heart, Mr. Preble,” replied Mabel, and they continued their ride. But Mabel was distrait all the afternoon, and was glad to get home again. She did not ask her escort in, for she dared not do so, But the next day she went alone to the Park, though she knew that she should have had an escort, ; But she must see Kent Kingdon, and wonder why he had come to St. Louis. , She rode to the spot where she had met him the afternoon before, and there she saw him awaiting her. your friend is, Miss CHAPTER XII, IN FETTERS, ‘* MABEL, my loved one, you see that I have followed you.” Kent Kingdon spoke the words in a low, earnest tone, as he grasped her hand. ‘*T see that you baye, Kent; but, oh! why did you do so?” , ** Do you think I will give ae up?’ They were riding along side by side now, and for a moment she inade no reply. Then she said: “You received the letter that I left for you in the log post-office?’ and she smiled at the re- membrance of what they had called their post- office, for many a note had been left there be- — fore, many a time bad it been a trysting-place, ‘Yes, and that is why I am here.” **T told you not to come after me,” “ True, and yet told me where you were going to iive.” ; “ Did 17” ‘ “Yes, and I had some trouble in finding you and it took me weeks before I did do so, an then much longer to get a chance to see you alone. “Often I have seen you with others; but [ would not then speak to you. ‘Yesterday I grew desperate and so boldly met you face to face.” ‘‘ And why have you come here, Kent?” ‘Do you not know?” “No,” “Can you not guess?” ‘**T told you not to come.” ‘“*T know it.” : “T told you that though I loved you dearer than all else, that it was ever.” ** Nonsense.” ‘* Tt is best, asp **No, you must me my wife.” . “ Ah, no, Kent.” ; ** You must.” “ Why do you not help me to do right, Kent?” id J it doing wrong in your becoming my wife “ ‘*Father and mother, yes, and the world think so.” Vi : duel?” ie t for us to part for- - Te “You mean because I killed poor Horace in a ; ,.
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Ken “* Yes,” ‘* Let the dead past bury its dead, Mabel.” ‘** Alas! it cannot be.” “I know that your father came here to get you away from me.” ‘*T know that also.” ‘*I know that he believed that with you in St. Louis, I would not dare follow you, and that you would forget me.” ‘* He does not know me, Kent, to think that.” “Nor nie, if he thought I would give you up. ‘*But Iam here, Mabel, and I have come to make you my wife. “Your father does not dislike me, nor does your mother; itis only the thought that there 13 a grave between us that keeps us apart. ‘** Would a. mother give up her son because he had slain his father, or brother? ““Why should I be given up because, acting in self-defense, I killed your brother? ‘No, that specter of the past shall not come between us. “Tt has not kept you from loving me, it shall not keep you from becoming my wife,” he said vehemently. The girl loved him, and his reasoning was logically true to her. Soe saw all through his eyes only, and she said: ** Well, Kent, come and ask father.” ‘* He would refuse.” ‘'Then what can we do?” “Become my wife secretly, and then let me write your father a letter, telling him all, and letting him know that I will come the next day to see him,” ‘“‘He will be very angry, Kent, and for all father’s quiet manner, he is terrible when arous- “That is why I write to him, Mabel, and give his anger time to cool before I see him, for 1 care not to be insulted, even by your father, ‘*We love each other, and that is all there is of it, and we do not deserve abuse because it Paprene that in the past I killed your brother. * We will §° back to the far West to live, to my home, or I will buy Refuge Ranch of your father, and we will be happy there, for we can take back with us many things to add to our comfort, i “Will you be my wife, Mabel?” 7 Osi “Secretly marrying me?” “Yes, Kent.” hes, ‘* When, Mabel?” ‘‘ Whenever you say.” “Then three days from this walk out alone in the afternoon, ‘**Come to the Plauter’s House and ask to be shown to room thirteen. “I will be there and have a clergyman and witness with me to receive you. ‘* After the ceremony you can return at once home and I will write to your father, telling him all. *“* Are you satisfied, Mabel?” oc I am ” ** And trust me?” ** In everything,” was the low response. Then they turned homeward, and Kent King- don, when po one was near to see him leave her, bade her farewell and she rode on alone to the city. “'hhe man returned by another street, a strange look upon his face, a look that it had been well had Mabel seen it, for it might have opened her eyes to the fact that Kent Kingdon masked his feelings when with. her. But she only believed in his love for her and could think no other than a like sincere affec- tion for her prompted him, \ She was young, innocent, and he had saved her life, while he was a man to win hearts and turn beads far older than hers, and more ex- perienced in the world’s wiles, The next day she kept her promise and went to room thirteen in the Planter’s Hotel. * When she left that room half an hour after she was the wife of Kent Kingdon. She had bound herself heart and body in fet- ters which it was no easy task to break. CHAPTER XIII. A THE FIRST BLOW. ; _Back to the far frontier the scene ap ie and once again the reader is invited to Refuge nor. Its doors and windows have been thrown i/o open, and it presents certainly a most inviting A wagon -train had reached there a week be- | fore, bearing many things. to add to the comfort of the dwellers a: Refuge Ranch. wae 6 Varad Kingdon. And those dwellers were Captain Kent King- don and his beautiful wife, It had all come about so strangely. Kent Kingdon had recently married Mabel Manners, and then had, as be had said he would, written the letter to her father. Doctor Manners had been almost overpowered when he read the letter, which told him that his only child, his beautiful daughter, was the wife of the man who had slain her brother. He found it hard to believe, and for a long while struggled with anger and despair. Thev he read the letter over again, from be- ginning to end. It was a manly letter to read, It told how the writer regretted the past, and how he had suffered with remorse for the grave he had made. lt told how he had risked his life to save Mabel from. death, and thus atone in part for his deed, How he had tried hard to efface the past ard win the regard of the parents of the maiden he had loved since the day he had dragged Mabel from the water, He said he was not responsible for loving one so pure and beautiful, and when he saw that Mabel loved him, then he had acted from im- pulse and told his love for her. He told Doctor Manners that he had fried hard to remain out West, after his departure, but that he was forced to follow him, and that. he had urged a secret marriage hoping, after the step had been taken, they, Mabel and him- self, would be forgiven for what they bad done. So read the letter, and at last Doctor Manners took it to his wife. For hours they talked together over it, and then decided to let matters take their course. Mabel was sent for, and her father told her that he would utter no word of reproach, and that all-he asked was that they should be mar- ried over again in his home. Then he sent for Kent Kingdon, and the man was received in a quiet manner and told what was expected of him. He at once agreed to the marriage ceremony being performed over again, and a few days after, several old friends were invited to the doctor’s house, and thus Mabel was publicly the wife of Kent Kingdon, none of those who looked on, excepting the four who held the dark secret, suspecting that a mystery lay at the bottom of this strange marriage. Soon after the couple started for the frontier home, Refuge Ranch having been given to Mabel by her father as a bridal present. . They carried with them all that was necessary to theircomfort, and thus it was that the old home put on such a gala look. ' The two Chinese servants were sent aver from Recluse Ranch, and Mabel settled down into Pee de life with every hope of happiness in the uture, , And yet, at times the form of her dead brother would rise before. her, and she would wonder if she had not done wrong in marrying the one who bad taken his life. But she banished such thoughts as well as she could, and devoted herself to the duties devoly- ing upon her. : She was sorry that her husband was so often called away from home; but then he said that is duties demanded it, and she had to rest con- tent. He had his own, and Refuge Ranch to look after, and there were a number of cattle on both that had to have constant care. Then he was Captain of the Cowboy Rangers, and there was plenty to call him away and keep his time occupied, : One day, while seated upon the broad piazza which ran across the front of the substantial peo pan Mabel saw a horseman approaching at a gallop. At first she thought it was her husband, who. had been absent for two days, but a second glance showed her that she was mistaken. _ The man was a cowboy, from appearances, hem 2 his horse showed that he had ridden ard, He dashed up to the door and called out, as he touched his bat: ‘* Is the cap’n home, miss?” “No, he has been away two days.” ‘** When’s he coming?” **T do not exactly know.” a Well, I’ve got an important letter for m. : ‘* Who is it from?” ** The lieutenant, — ‘*T will give it to him when he returns.” \ “He'd better come quick, or he'll miss the best snap of his life. cing’, ' wr you his wife I has heerd was so beauti- u “T am his wife,” said Mabel, with a smile. ‘Waal, you is beautiful, and no mistake,” said the man, earnestly, and yet politely. Mabel blushed at the praise, and said: “I will give the letter to my husband when he returns, if you will trust it to me,” “I guess so, for you bein’ the cap’n’s wife, knows all he’s up to, I guesses, **Here it are, miss, and if you knows whar to reach him, you had better send for him, for I has to keep on along the line, soon as I changes m i. horse.” he man handed over to Mabel a letter and then rode to the rear of the cabin. In a short while she saw him dash away on a fresh horse, taken from the corral, and she won- dered at his doing so withouv permission. ‘““ Wing-Wing, who was that man?” she asked of the Chinese house-servant. “* He courier manee of captee,” ** A courier?” ee Yes, n ‘ Then his taking a horse was all right?” ‘* Yes, allee lightee,” Then Mabel turned to the letter which the man had left. Doubtless in the haste of sending it, the sender had forgotten to seal the envelope, for it was unsealed, Not thinking that itcould be a matter which her husband wished to keep from her, she took the letter from the envelope. f She glanced at its contents, her face paled, she attempted to rise and, with-a moan, sunk down upon the floor in a swoon, She had received her first blow, and a cruel fate was upon her track, for that letter had re- vealed a strange secret to her. CHAPTER XIV. THE COURIER’S FATE. A FEW moments only had Mabel been in a swoon, when the clatter of hoofs was heard without, and a horseman dashed up and gave a shrill whistle. Wing-Wing heard it and ran out and took his horse. It was Kent Kingdon, and horse and rider showed that they had traveled far and fast, ‘“ Where ismy wife?” asked Kingdon, “* Allee lightee in house,” was the reply, and the Chinee led the horse away. ‘* Where can Mabel be that she does not meet me?’ muttered Kingdon, as be entered the wide hallway. ' Then he started, for through the open door, leading into the sitting-room, he saw bis wife’s form upon the floor. : q He sprung toward her, and raised ber in his arms. “What in Satan’s name has happened, I wonder, for she has fainted?” he said, almost uffly. OTe he placed her upou a lounge, and for the first time caught sight of the letter, He sprung forward and picked it up, hastily glancing at the contents. oe ign Af A fearful oath came from his lips as he read it, and his face turned pale, while be gnashed his teeth like a madman, ** Curses! a thousand curses upon the fool who has made this blunder!” he hissed, . Shoving the letter hastily into his pocket, he ‘turned to bis wife. Her eyes were open, and they were fixed upon him with a look of horror, ‘* Mabel, my poor Mabel, you have seen that decoy letter, and believe it true. SES ‘My poor child, let me tell you that it was written for a purpose, to insnare one who has long been suspected of certain red work, and you have believed that it was meant for me, and was true,” ; . ‘“* Are you telling me the truth, Kent King- on?” - ‘*Why should I deceive you, my beautiful wife?” ‘‘ Tt was addressed to you?” ‘(A mistake in the sender, who put a note to me in the envelope intended for another, and vice versa. , “Tt was a foolish blunder, and will destroy our plan to catch a settler whom we have long suspected of being a traitor.” 7 “Oh, Kent, forgive me!” and springing to her feet she threw herself into his arms, “T have nothing to forgive, my child, for I do not wonder that you suspected me, when the letter came addressed to me here, ** Who brought it?” ‘*« A man who said he was your courier.” - Pa 5
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** Ah, yes, 2 man with red beard and hair?” ** Yes.” ** And whither did he go?” ** He changed his horse for one from the cor- ral, and went to the stage-station, he said. “Yes so he will be back to-morrow, and I will write to the man who sent this letter, tell- ing him of his awful blunder, ‘You see, Mabel, the Overland Owls have been giving us so much trouble of late, that I have men stationed along the line «f road with erders to send me news of all that turns up. “My lieutenant, of the Cowboy Rangers, is at the other end of the line, and we arranged a plan to catch a settler who is a traitor, and he was to send that note to him, and another to me telling me he had written the supposed trai- to . r. ‘* The result is he has spoiled all by his blun- der, and I fear the man may escape, so I will go to his ranch and arrest him. ‘* How long ago was the courier here?” * At one o’clock.” ** And it is now nearly two. ‘7 will go at once and return at soon as 1 ean.” So saying Kent Kingdon left the cabin, after affectionately kissing Mabel and bidding her 4 worry. e ordered Ding-Ding, to fetch his fleetest horse, and ten minutes after was speeding along like the wind on the track taken by the cowboy courier who had given the letter to Mabel. His face wore an angry look, and he kept pressing the spurs into the flanks of his horse, allowing him no slackening of his speed up-hill or down. The pace was a tremendous one, for the ani- mal was as fleet as the wind, and after an hour’s run Kingdon looked at his watch, ‘*T have been going two miles to his one, I am sure, ‘*He cannot be far ahead, though he is a hard rider,” he said. In ten minutes more he came to the brow of a hill, and half a mile ahead, going at a gallop along the trail, he saw a horseman, “Tt’s my man,” he grinly said, and the spurs again sunk into the flanks of the noble animal. After a short while longer he hailed. His voice rung out like a bugle, the man heard it, turned quickly in his saddle and then came toa halt just as he was entering a clump of timber. ‘* Ah, cap’n, you've rid hard to overtake me, ‘Is anything wrong, sir?” asked the man, as 3 OX rode up to him, “ec es,” ‘* What are it, cap’n?” ‘*You hand me your weapons, Red Larry, for I want them.” : The man obeyed without a word, but he seem- ed er as he gazed into the face of Kingdon: “Ts you mad with me, cap’n?” “T am!” ‘* What has I done?” ; i You gave a letter to my wife, and she read “Lordy! that was woman’s curiosity.” “Tt was your bungling, and Danner’s too, for _ the letter was not sealed, and under no circum- stances should you have given it to her.” * She’s your wife.” * And for that reason you should nut have let her see it.” “‘T had to go on with word to the other end of the line, so could not wait.” ‘**You should have done so, and, as you did not, I shall kil! you.” ‘* Kill me, cap’a?’ and the man smiled incredue pak P , ‘¢ Yes, so dismount from your horse.” Oh, cap’n!” “ Do you hear?” a ) The man was still holding belief that Kingdon was not inearnest. But he obeyed and dismounted, ‘* Have you other letters with you?” ** One, sir, for the west end of the line,” ‘Give it to me.” The letter was taken handed over. ; “This is all?” ** Yes, cap’n.” ‘* What news have you?” ; No more than the lieutenant wrote, and it’s a b PER sir.” ef La from his pocket and rry, you are a fool, and, as such are | not to be trusted. “Lordy, cap’n, I didn’t know I,was doing ann Then. aa prove yourself a fool “ You cannot be Icented as a courier, and of sent Kingdon, course, I cannot let you go free, so I shall kill you. ‘* Does you mean it, cap’n?” “*T am not one to joke, Red Larry.” ** Ah, cap’n, don’t kill me. ‘**See, sir, my bands is up:” and the man, now thoroughly frightened at the face of Kingdon, which was almost demoniacal in its rage, raised a hands above his head and dropped upon bis nees, Kingdon had already drawn his revolver and stepped back three paces, while the kneeling wretch still held his hands above his bead ap- pealing for mercy. ‘*Red Larry, you have got but one moment to live,” said Kent Kingdon, hoarsely, and he lev- eled his revolver at the kneeling wretch. ** Mercy, cap’n! mer—” But the ery was drowned in the crack of the revolver, and Red Larry fell forward upon his face, a bullet in his brain. With a grim smile Kent Kingdon regarded his victim for a minute, and then mounting his horse he rode back homeward, leaving the body dying where it had fallen, to become food for wolves, and the man’s horse feeding near. “They will find it, and set it down as the work of the Overland Owls,” he said, as he re- traced his steps over the trail that led to Refuge Ranch, CHAPTER XV. . THE SECOND BLOW, ALTHOUGH Kent Kingdon returned to Refuge Ranch, he did not remuin very long. He was glad to see that Mabel bad believed the story he had told her, and he said: ‘*T rode after the courier, Mabel, to get him to return with me and explain to you that the letter was intended for another.” ‘There was no need of that, my dear hus- band, for I believed all that you told me. * But, oh! it was such a shock at first.” ‘‘{ donot wonder at it; but I did not over- pee the man, and I fear there is trouble in his path, ‘* What trouble, Kent, can there be?” ** Well, [ met a settler who told me that he had seen a party of horsemen on that trail this morning, that he was certain were Overland Owls.” **Oh, Kent! that fearful band of men?” “So he believed them, and, as I cared not to run into an ambush, and thus make a beautiful widow of you,I returned; but I fear that the courier might have run upon them,” ‘*T hope not, poor fellow; but what can the Nan Owls be doing in this neighborhood y da “Doubtless in hiding for some red deed to be done under cover of the night, so I will go and call my Rangers together and thwart their game. “Tf I find them, Mabel, I may be gone for a day or so, but, if not, will return in the morn- ing. * Good-by ay sweet wife,” and Kent ete don mounted a fresh horse once more and rode away, leaving Mabel gazing wistfully after m, ~* Oh, what a life of danger he leads, and he is so often away from home! ‘IT wish he would be willing to give up this wild life on the border, and go East to live. ‘*We could be so very happy there,” and be came into the beautiful eyes of the young wife. She heard regularly from her parents, and had written them how happy she was, and felt that it would give them joy to know that all of her brightest anticipations had been realized. And yet Mabel was not pappy. She tried to make herself believe that she was: but the grim specter of her brother would not down, and she began to feel that the saving of her life by Kent Kingdon had not wholly atoned for his having killed her brother. When Kent Kingdon left the ranch, he took a trail leading to the right. He was lost in thought, or he would have seen a horseman suddenly rein back out of the trail as he caught sight of him. He rode on and, still in deep meditation, passed the spot where the horseman had left the trail, and he failed to see the forms of steed and rider half-hidden in a thicket, When he had passed on, the one in hiding gave a deep sigh of relief. “That was he! : ‘“*T never could mistake him for another. “How glad I am that he did not see m for pare end would have come sooner than t wis : c the Card King. , Oo So said the one who had ridden out of the trail at sight of Kent Kingdon. When the latter had disappeared in the dis- tance, the one in the thicket again rode out into the trail and headed his horse toward Refuge Ranch. He appeared to be a mere boy in years, and his form was slight but elegant, He rode a wiry little Indian pony, was armed with a pair of revolvers, wore a corduroy suit. the pants stuck in top-boots, ard a slouch ha shaded his face. Having seen Kent Kingdon disappear in the ' distance he continued on his way, and soon came in sight of Refuge Ranch. He rode up to the cabin slowly, while he mut- tered: ‘Yes, this is his house as it was described to me, ‘‘ A fine place surely, and he is doubtless a great man in these parts. ‘*Now to see the fair youn told is mistress of Refuge Ranch. ‘“Ha! ha! ha! the place is no longer a place of refuge for him, for I have tracked bim to his re- treat, though it has taken long to do so.” As he halted before the door Mabel came out upon the piazza. She had seen his approach, noticed that he was not one of the neighbors, but a stranger, and his youthful face had attracted her. He doffed bis hat politely at sight of her and then said: “Ts this Refuge Rancb, miss?” ‘Yes, sir,” and Mabel gazed with considera- ble interest upon the bandsome young horse- | man. ‘“May I ask if Captain Kingdon is at home?” “No, he has but a short while departed, I | regret to say.” “ Will he be long away?” ‘* Until to-morrow, perhaps longer; but will you not dismount and rest yourself?” ‘“‘ Thank you, miss,” and the young man gave — his bridle-rein to the Chinee who just then came © around the corner of the cabin, ‘Ts the wife of Captain Kingdon at home, miss?” be asked, as be stepped upon the piazza. ‘Yes, [am Mrs, Kingdon.” “You! pasion me, but I suppos2d you were a — young girl, you at least look so.” ‘Still lam Mrs, Kingdon.” ‘“*Then my business is with you, and it is a | sad business too as you will discover,” was the response, and there was that in the tone and look \ of the strange visitor that caused Mabel to feel — as though an icy hand had clutched ber heart. ‘* What have you to say to me?” almost gasped Mabel, dreading she knew not what. ‘That which will make you hate Kent King- don with your whole soul,” was the cold and pitiless reply. : wife who Tam } 4 a CHAPTER XVI, “fr7 P THR SURGEON SCOUT. © . Some little time before the scene related in © the foregoing chapter, a horseman was riding — over a prairie. ; Before him lay a clump of timber, upon a lit- — tle hill, and he was. gcing toward it, as though | he intended to seek shelter there for the night, for it was not long before sunset. ’ The horseman was a fine specimen of manhood, | tall, well-formed and with a face that was full of Feb p and courage. e was dressed in the uniform of an army officer, and wore a slouch bat with a gold cord | about it, while his hair fell in waves upon his broad shoulders. Though an officer he carried a repeating rifle at his back, and a belt of arms, but no sword. * His horse was a powerful animal, large and long-bodied, and though tired seemed to move | with a light and springy step. i As he neared the timber he peered into its depths, with the manner of a man who felt dan- ger might lurk there. ; But he saw no one, and said aloud: ‘We | will pass the night here, Rocks, aid go on to the © fort to-morrow.” } Hardly had he entered the timber when an | arrow cut through his coat, almost grazing his — side, In an instant his revolver was drawn, and he | spurred forward to confront his foe. But the weapon was not discharged, though but for a‘searching glance it would have been, There, lying upon the ground was an Indian, | He wore the full bead-dress of a chief, and | had thrown away bis bow and gra' a _ knife, for he had fired his last arrow at bis pale-face © foe as he rode upon him. yi “Tet the pale-face come on, for the Sioux © .chief knows no fear. . / f
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= . 10%: “Red Dog will fight him.” The officer heard the words, and understand- ing the Sioux tongue perfectly, he dismounted land walked quietly toward the Indian, who half ‘aised up to meet him, as though expecting an attack, “Tet the Red Dog know that I am not one to kill a wounded man, be he red-skin or pale-face. ‘The Red Dog is wounded and Iam a medi- cine man of the pale-faces, so will care for bis wound,” “The Red Dog knows the White Beaver,* the Imedicine-chief of the fort, and he is a mighty varrior, for he has sent many of my braves to the happy po mr “ But the Red Dog is ready to die.” ‘‘-You need not die, at least not now. “Let me look at your wound.” ‘The White Beaver is good to the Sioux chief, if his words are straight.” - “Tam telling you the truth, Red Dog, and I will help you now, if I kill you the first time I meet you on the war-path again. ‘“ Gome, drop that knife and let us be friends, at least for the present.” The Indian at once put down his knife, for there was that in the faco of the army surgeon that he read aright, as meaning to do him only ‘aservice, | “You have been in battle with the soldiers, chief?” he asserted. Red Dog nodded. |“ When?” ‘Three days ago.” ‘ - ell, your leg is broken by a pistol-bullet.” es. a“ “Tt is a bad wound, but as I have my sur- gical-case with me I can mend you up all right. “* Where are your warriors?’ ‘Gone back to the village of my people.” “The soldiers whipped you?” The Sioux nodded. “« Why were you deserted by your braves?” “My horse fell, and I was shot, while the pale-faces passed over me, “cc See \? d He showed cuts and bruises as he spoke, evi- dently made by the hoofs of horses, “ Well, chief?” “Tt was night, and I was not seen. ‘My pony was near and came at my call, so { drageed myseif upon his back and came here OM y : d ” y pony is yonder ; “7 will carry you Tiss get to work.” As the officer spoke he raised the red-skin in Pe arms, and bore him through the timber with- out an effo by the sprin thers, and rt, it seemed. Then he got out his case of instruments, and | set to work: dressing the wouided leg, the red- | skin uttering no outcry of pain in spite of the agony he endured, ‘A camp-fire was then built, supper was cooked by the surgeon, and the chief ate with an appe- tite that showed how nearly starved he was. “The horse of the scout and the ehief’s pon were then staked out for the night, and the red- skin made as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances. Bright and early the next morning the sur- geon was up, and had cut some long sapling - with which to make a travois, on which he could place the wounded chief, ~ Then he got breakfast, and afterward dressed the wound of the Indian over again. . . The saplings were then rigged to the jury- _ like shafts, the ends trailing "ar behind upon the ‘ground, and the lariats made a net-work be- ; ween them, on which the chief was placed upon his blankets, and those of‘ the man who was so far befriending bim. That he was to be taken as a prisoner to the - fort, Red Dog had not the slightest doubt, so he was greatly surprised when the surgeon said: Chief, you will have to be the guide, for I am going to take you to your village.” _ Inspite of his stoicism the chief showed in- nse amazement. re she Does my white brother speak straight?’ he be rv J >.” : ) } \ ad ~ ould the White Beaver dare go to my vil- e' wi al I will, for I take the chief there.” _ And the Red Dog is not to be taken to the , 5 ij rer: ¥. Visa ake 4 he e No, for I did not capture you in battle, tee Make Se Leow gat “Try as IT ‘| ma Bart | ed regarding the movements Kent Kingdon, the Card Kine’. Kent Kingdon, the Card King. —_—_—-_—-- eo ‘J will take the Red Dog to his people.” ‘The White Beaver is a great chief. “ He will be the brother of the Red Dog,” was the reply, and the Red Dog showed that be was impressed by the pluck and kind act combined of the medicine-man of the pule-faces. Svon after, leading the Indian pony with his | own quarters for rest, as he bad had a hard load, White Beaver started across the plains in the direction of the Sioux village. He knew well what danger was before him; but his motive in taking the risk was made evi- dent in a few words he muttered to himself: “Tj find the way to the old chief’s village, and just what number of braves he has. “This is not such a bad thing, outside of the humanity of caring for the Indian.” Selecting the easiest places for the pony to walk in, for he well knew the pain the Indian must suffer from every jolt, the surgeon held on steadily all day, and at night went into camp, and once more dressed the wounded leg of the red-skin, and looked to his comfort. The next morning the journey was continued, the plains were left behind, and the climb up into the hills was begun, until just before sun- set the village of the Sioux was reached, and the daring white man who had braved so much found bimself surrounded by hundreds of sav- ages who he well knew thirsted tor his blood. CHAPTER XVII. A SOLDIER’S PLEDGE. THERE was considerable uneasiness in_Fort Advance at the long absence of Surgeon Frank Powell, the most popular man at the outpost with officers and soldiers alike. Outside of his being a most skillful surgeon and physician, he was @ courtly gentleman, and brave.to recklessness, He had obtained the name upon the border of the Magic Doctor and the Surgeon Scout, the first from his numerous cures and skill in sur- gery, and the latter because he was second to no trailer or Indian-fighter on the prairies. Tt was his wont often to start out alone on a scout, and his commander was indebted to him for much valuable information he had thus gleaned. But on bis last leaving the fort, he had not ex- ted to be away but a day or two, and two weeks had passed and yet he had not returned, and so there was great anxiety felt, for him, The day of his departure a company of sol- diers bad had a fight with a large band of Sioux, and had defeated them, and it was feared that after all he had been captured by the red-skins on their retreat. Search parties had been sent out, but could find ro trace of him, and Colonel Rayal, the commandant of Fort Advance was about to dis- patch a large force under a gallant youn officer to make a thorough search for the missing sur- geon, and had given the order, when it was re- ported that Surgeon Powell was coming across the prairie, He came on at a gallop, and he was leading a pack-horse weighted down with a freight of some kind. Cheer after cheer greeted his return, and he went at once to report himself to his colonel, “‘ Where in the saints’ name have you been Powell?’ asked Colonel Rayal, as he welcom his surgeon back again. “On a visit to Red Dog the Sioux chief, col- onel,” ‘“‘ Hal a prisoner?” “Oh no, sir, I have been the guest of the red gentlemen,” and laughing at the officer’s surprise Surgeon Frank Powell told the story of his ad- venture, and added: “Now, Colonel Rayal, I acted from bumanity with, that red-skin; but there was a lingering belief in my mind that [ could glean important information, and I have. f nie’ got the chief ina fair way to come round all right, and he loaded a pony with presents for me, so I brought them along. “ fam sure that be has too large a force for you to attack him with the men you have. ‘But there is one thing that troubles me?” ‘Yes, Powell, out with it,” “T would like to find out who the white man is who aids the Sioux,” The old chief has some white ally among the settlements, I am sure, and it must he some one of importance, for he knows Red Dog to move on a raid, and when not to do could Iwas unable to place this in, but I hope to ferret him out soon.” _ “T shall hang bim if we Jong wondered how the Sioux were so well post- . ‘ ' . \ it . ui teehee ie EO just when to tell | catch him, for T have | of my soldiers, and just at what time the settlements could be at- tacked with we joc f “ But, Powell, you have done a daring thing to invade that old cbief’s village, and I know of no other man who could have done so.” — “T happened. to be a surgeon, sir,” was the modest reply, and Frank Powell then sought his time of it. On the table in his cabin he found several let- ters, which he read, and one of them seemed to impress him deeply. . , lt was a letter from one who bad been a pro- fessor in the medical college where he bad com- pleted his studies, and whom he remembered as a true friend to him in bis student days. The professor had inherited a fortune and, giving up his position, had gone/North to live, entering into mercantile businees there. Since that time be had not met him, but each year a letter was wont to pass between them. Now tbis letter came from the professor, and it was dated from St. Louis, some weeks prior to his reception of it. The letter was as follows, and will explain to the reader the situaticn of affairs as they be- came known to Surgeon Powell: “Sr. Louis, June 15, 18—. “My Dear Frienp POWELL:— “Only three days ago I leernéd from an army officer that you were stationed out on the border, and it accounts for my not hearing from you, as well as my receiving no word of late from you for L have moved from my old home and left it, with its sorrows, behind me, “Just to think of it,I was a dweller for several Svat ray a hundred miles from your fort, and never new “To explain, my son Horace, whom you remem- ber as a boy, was killed at college ina duel with a fellow student, and just at that time I had been financially ruined by indorsing for friends. : “Sick at heart I went West and built up a home for myself, my wife and daughter, Mabel, accom- panying. \ “By a strange coincidence the man who had killed my son lived near us. and. as he saved Mabel’s life one day, we buried the hatchet. for we believed, him all that was noble, and in fact really felt that Horace bad been in the wrong in the due! ‘Alas! it resulted in Mabel’s loving the man, and so I hastened t6 leave our home, “T had saved considerable money. so went to St. Louis to live. “But this man, Kent Kingdon, followed us there, secretly married Mabel, and 100k her back West, 1 giving to her our old home of Refuge Rancb, ‘‘Now comes the saddest of all, for poor Mabel married, in Kent Kingcon, the veriest human viper. “She found him out to be the leader of a band of outlaws, and, when she weuld have fled from bim, she found it was too late, for he kept ber a prisoner in her own house. ; “The one who crimes promised back to keep his ave her the information of his er his aid, but he never came ledge, and he either deserted her or was killec by ent Kingdon, who could not force Mabel to tell who her informant was, “A Chinese servant in the house promised Mabel to maila letter to me for her, for fhe man’s heart. was touched, and he did so, and thus I gleaned the wes which now I write to he ‘ ** My poor wife is prostrated yee shock, and so Esai not leave her, so write to you, my best of riends. “T feel that you will do all in your power to res- child and bring that villain to justice, was known as Refuge Ranch, and it is ““My addr your work, my noble friend, while the prayers of a stricken mother and father will be with you. “Ever your attatched friend, Manners.” Twice did Frank Powell read this letter over, and then he called for an orderly, and vat : ‘Take this telegram to the stage station, or- derly, and ask the agent to send it by the first driver that comes along to the nearest point it can be telegraphed.” ae Ni, Ie “ Yes, sir,” and the orderly touched his hat and took the telegram, the contents of which were as follows: 4 “My sincerest sympathies to you both in your deep affliction, - “T start on the trail at once, and piedge myself to the good work of rescue and of justice, “Will wire result at earliest moment. , * Powr’ 1.” day Saree Powell started for the Valley, and he went alone on the i] / The next Blue Water trail. “CHAPTER XVIII. .. . MAREL’S VISITOR, THE young horseman, who had told Mabel i T> 1 lf
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»* S97ell. and | ‘ 4 babs een loved bim as my that his business was with her, and caused by his words a pang of dread in her heart, spoke like one who had suffered himself, and therefore felt some pleasure in haviug others suffer. ‘*‘ What have you to say to me?” asked Mabel, and she gazed straight into the face of the youth, who seemed to see there a look of intense pain, and at ouce said: ‘Pardon me, for I was too abrupt; but let me tell you that what I have to tell will deeply pain F hai ae “* My God! I fear that it is so. “For Heaven’s sake, tell me all that you have to tell! ‘+ Let me know the worst at once.” “May I ask you your name?” ** T told you | was Mrs, Kingdon,” “‘T mean your maiden name.” ‘Who and what are you?” ‘One who, though giving you pain, is your friend.” The words were spoken in a tone that was as- suring, and Mabel said: “+ Be seated, sir, please.” “The visitor obeyed, and Mabel took an easy- chair opposite to him. “Now, sir, let me say that my maiden name was Mabel Manners.” ** Good God!” With this exclamation, the young man sprung to his feet. His face was white, his eyes flashing, and he asked in suppressed tones, as he stepped close up to Mabel: ‘*Do you mean that you were the sister of Horace Manners?” ; » Yes,” : ho was killed in a duel while at college?” es. - “ Was killed by a fellow-student—one Kent Kingdon” “Killed by the man who is now your hus- “ Yes,” ‘¢ Heavens! what a situation! ‘Did you know this when you became his wife?” “ did.” “And yet married him?” ‘© Yes,’ ** God in Heaven! how could you?” * T loved him.” The visitor seemed completely taken aback at this simple reply, He took a turn across the room, and then came back to his place in frout of Mabel, “What a strange Sie onets love is! “T confess I cannot fathom it.” *T believe you said you had something to make known to me, sir,” coldly said Mabel. “J did say so, and I have much to tell you.” The voice and manner of the visitor had changed. The! tones were no longer harsh, but had be- tome as gentle as a woman’s, and the eyes had lost their fierce light.” “Let me tell you that I knew your brother dearest friend, ~ ah » khew Kent Kingdon in those days, and he did me a wrong which bis life only can “ “ _ Wipe out, “Now that _ was the strange reply _ Kingdon wrong , tbat I can never forget, and have vowed to avenge ‘ to meet any tat ight pe ** What I am, I need not now tell vou: but let me ~ ate 1 ree a: for a long time dog- ging the steps of Kent on. ‘Would you know oy I have fonnd out, for that is what I came here to tell you?” ‘¢ | would know all,” and Mabel was impressed with the changed manner of her visitor, it bad BK become so soft and gentle. “T will tell you as gently asT can, for I wish not to give you pain other than I have to do, ‘‘ Awhile ago I did not care, for I had suffer- ed so vibe ap it was almost a pleasure for me to see others feel pain. \ ‘and I would spare youall in my power,” a Whoa vou?” : “Call me Kitty Trumps, for that is the name mee others know me, in these parts at “A strange name.” _ "True; ‘ous I deserve it from the fact that I always hold trump cards in tae games I play,” But to my story,” \d the youth gave an impatient toss of his liad. “ T will not tell you now how it was that Kent ed me; but be,did me an 1nju nit startéd on bis trail. after schooling myself hardship and todread no danger beset my path. ’ j Me know who you are itis different, was bis wife, or I ‘* But it is too late now to go back, for I have e iis “Tt was no easy task to find the trail of the man who had killed your brother, . “He had lived in Texas, 1 knew, so I went thither in search of bim. ‘* But his father had failed and he had lost his fortune, 1 discovered on going there, and I had to look for him elsewhere. ; ‘‘T knew that he was in hiding, fearing to be taken back and tried for the murder of your brother, for as such I Jook upon it. ‘* At last I hit upon a way, after over a year’s search of him, to find out by a new plan, if I could not discover his hiding-place. ‘*T knew that he had left his matters in the hands of Hugh Lawton, his second in the duel, and letters had passed between ‘them under some disguise. ““SolI went to the home of Hugh Lawton, and, sending him off on a false errand, [ search- ed his rooms, carrying with me skeleton keys for the purpose. ““T know that most people have the foolish practice of keeping their old letters, **So I found it with Lawton, for he had letters there from Kent Kingdon. “Tt was his handwriting, but not his name attached. ‘The name was Donald King, his own chang- ed about and divided. “Tt was post-marked at a place here in the rid West, and so I at once started for the little wn, _“T had photographs of Kent Kingdon, and it did not take me very long to discover that he had spent some little time in the place. ‘*He had become noted in that border town as a successful gambler and a dead shot. ‘*T traced bim, step by step from there to the mining-camps, aad at last found that he had be- come known as Don, the Card King. ** He was the proprietor of a gambling hell, I discovered in a Colorado camp, and thither I went. / But he had sought other parts, and every- where folks had strange stories to tell of him. “They spoke of his handsome face, the face of an angel hiding the heart of a devil, and his Superb form was referred to, while his pluck and nerve wer, the admiration of all. **He was so lucky at cards that he had won the nume of Card King, and many believed that he cheated, only it was not safe to tell him so, as many found to their cost. “In spite of my hatred for him, I could not but admire the man. “Well, I continued to dog him from post to post, but some presentiment of my being on his trail must have caused him to skip out ofa camp or town just before my coming, and I had to take up the broken thread again. ‘Tn all this time I was not idle, _“‘T had always been a good rider, but I prac- ticed until I beeame anexpert. ‘*f shot half a hundred bullets away a day in practicing with rifle and revolver, and made myself skillful in all that a man in these wild parts should know. “T met dangers, but overcame them, saw many a tragedy, and became accustemed to bloodshed, u it made no impression upon me, “Thus I schooled myself to meet the man face to face whom I sought, and be bis equal at his own game when we did meet, ‘“*T gambled and my luck was phenomenal. ‘“*But enough of myself, more than to say that I found at last that Kent Kingdon, the Card King, bad killed a man in a mining-camp one night, who had accused him of cheating. ** Each had staked theit fortune on their life, and the one who survived was to get all. *‘Kent Kingdon killed him of course, and he left the place soon after. **Tt was a long time before [ found any trace of him again, so well did be cover up his tracks, * But at last 1 discovered that he bad gone to ‘claim the fortune of the man he had killed, and thus I found him, living as aranchero on the man's estate, “tT could have killed him then, but I felt that he was not living the honest life he pretended to ps puis spies we van him, \ ) to cat im in hi i pet : Bd nt Aba ch bim in his deviltry and ‘At last I got wind of his game, and so came here to seek him out, for I heard tnat he was married, and I felt a sweet, revenge in inaking his wife feel who it was that she had married. “But Idid not know that Mabel Kingdon would have never felt so, Kent Kingdon in m wer, ud kno will hang him.” has — as hr ie “ g bir.” ae ‘ ri Kent Kingdon, the Card King. It was the first word that Mabel had uttered during the story of her visitor. She had seemed like a statue, so motionless and white-faced she was, and only when the, youth had said that he could hang Kent King- don did she start and repeat his words; “Hang him?” “Yes, I can hang him, and his fate will be a just one, for Kent Scingdon is the Chief of the. Owls of the Overland,” A wild cry broke from the lips of poor Mabel, and she sunk bacg in her chair seemingly de- void of life, CHAPTER XIX. THE ACCUSATION, From some reason Kent Kingdon returned home sooner than he anticipated. . He whistled, as was his wont, for the Chinee who eared for his horses, and then entered the house, He fairly shrunk backward several steps, when he saw Mabel. She stood before him erect, with heaving bosom, flashing eyes and a face that was as colorless and cold as marble. ‘““ My heavens, Mabel! are you ill?” “ Physically, no, mentally, yes.” *“ What aie you?" he asked, more than ever impressed by her harsh voice. “ Tam just recovering from the sbock of hav- ing discovered who and what you are,” . “Pray explain,” and he flinched under her | steady gaze. when I tell you that I *‘ T need not explain d have married the Card King of Colorado, sir.” ‘‘Ha! who has dared lie against me?” he cried, angrily. > ‘* No lie has been told.” “ T say it has, for I know the one you speak of, but I am not he.” ‘* You have not forgotten the letter I read?” ‘* No, and it was not for me.” ‘‘ Kent Kingdon, you need he false to me no longer, for I know what you are?” “And what am I?” he asked, having regained his cool manner and tune, ** Do you wish me to tell you?” ; * Yes, tell me what you have heard?” ‘You once loved a fair —_ by the name of Camille Cameron, did you not?” ; ‘Bah! I had a flirtation with such a woman, but she was jealous as she could be and I gave her up.” 2 ‘* Afterward she became engaged to my bro- ther, whom you killed?” «Yes, our quarrel was about her. “Well, what else?” ‘You then came West and became a carde sharp, I believe.” ‘‘ Be careful, for men who have accused me of sharp practice in playing cards have only a graye to mark that they once lived.” ‘¢ Yes, my brother qwas not the only murdered.” * : ‘Curses! woman, would you drive me to kil ou?” me I believe you equal to it.” ; ‘Don’t be a fool, Mabel, but tell me who has put all this nonsense into your head?” “Your enemy.” “Ha! and who is he?” *¢ One who hates you.” me “ And you believe what such a person tells you of me?” 5 “I do, when I am given the proof.” “You have no proof,” ‘*T have.” “ Show it me,” ‘* Not yet.” “ When will you?” ** When I face you in a court of justice I will bring my proof.” ‘* Ha! you threaten me?” “J wish you to understand, Kent Ki that Iam no longer the innocent child when you dragged me from the river. ‘*T would rather have died than to one you - was the murderer of my poor brotier, ‘“‘ His specter has often haunted me, and yet my love for you drove it away, and I tried to — forget who you were. ‘* But now I have you revealed to me in ‘alk j your hideous life of sin.” ““My God! what bave I done, other than play | a game of ecards for gold, and killed a man or two who insulted me?” he said, with deprecat- manner. a ne . That is not the worst, Kent Kingdon.” S* Ah! you have heard more?” ; oe ne Gl ng, all your charg es against me at once.” ‘ don, have lived: , 4 to know you as you are, to feel that I have loved + _ “ie Well, out with it, for T wish ‘you to make nee c: ) a
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medici hyarrio chief, i ae a : will bh I meet “ Co at leas The there \ that hi aserv: + WY, i oa 12 CN.” ‘* Had you not returned so soon I would havo been gone, and you would never have seen me again. ‘‘Let me go, Kent, and never cross my path again,” and she spoke pleadingly. ‘-T will not let you go.” * “Do pray let me leave you, and take my ad- vice, Kent Kingdon, and save yourself while you may.” ‘*From what should I fly?” “From danger that lurks in your path. ‘**T do not wish to see you hang, so give you fair warning. *“Go, go and hide yourself in some far-away corner of the earth, that you may escape the doom that will er be yours,” ‘* Bah! I am not easily frightened at a wom- an’s fears,” ‘* Mine are no idle fears, Kent Kingdon. “‘T have warned you, and yourefuse to heed that warning, so I will do no more.” “* Do you threaten me?” ** Yes, if so you will it.” “ With what?” “{ told you, the gallows.” He paled slightly, but said: “Do you mean that card-playing for gold, and killing a man in self-defense, is a hanging offense?” ‘There are other crimes, Kent Kingdon, that you are guilty of.” ‘* What other, for instance?” ““You have heard of the Owls of the Over- dand?”’ He started, but said indifferently: ‘““Who has not heard of that band of cut- throats?” , ‘* You are their chief, Kent Kingdon !” He uttered a savage oath at the words, and his face turned livid. | “Who dares accuse me of this?” ‘*One who can prove all he charges you with,” “By the saints, but I will know who my accuser is. **Speak, woman, or I'll wring the words from your throat!” and he sprung toward Mabel and grasped her by her soft, slender throat. ‘“‘Weould you kill me, Kent?" she gasped. ‘* Who has been here to see you?” “ A man.” ** His name?” * He called himself Trumps.” Mi bie a aga peers Fn that Sg my shadow, for he ogged me persistently. Who is he?” wr ‘ ‘* He told me that he was known as Trumps,” ** And he told you all that you have heard of me?” “e Yes.” A 6 ae ou believe bis lies?” __“T believe all that he told me of you, Kent Kingdon.” r | * By Heaven! but [ shall drag him to your feet and make him eat his false words.” So saying, he threw Mabel from him with a force that dashed her to the floor, while her throat was red from bis cruel grip upon it. Leaving the room, he called to the Chinese servants. \ They looked terrified at his angry face. “* Who bas been here?” he thundered. “Young ’Melican man.” “ How long ago?” * He left two hour.” ‘Which way did he go?” ; **Took trailee thatee way,” and the Chinee ; pointed eastward. ‘* Bring me my horse Sable at once.” The Chinee darted off to obey, and to Wing- Wing the enraged man said a few words in a low tone, ‘Me understanee,” he said with a sly wink, and his rT geen Aig ad up just then with Sable, _a splendid animal, black as jet, Kent Kingdon _/ threw himself into his saddle and dashed away. ' CHAPTER XX, PRISONERS, ALL the love in th¢ heart of Mabel for Kent j ar ci had turned to hatred, and she fair! one ed the man she had once so madly idol- The change was sudden and complete, and it came in a moment when ‘'rumps had proven to “her that all he said had been true. At last he had left the ranch, but before be did so, Mabel had arranged with hima plan of "She would leave the cabin by nigbt, saddle _ der own horse and meet Trumps in a clump of - z' Kent Kingdon, the Card King. I wish you to let me go at once away from to work, and soon had all in readiness for her : woods vot far from the house, and they would go together. Trumps had told her to seek the house of some neighber and crave shelter and concealment there until he could go to the fort and secure a force to capture Kent Kingdon and his whole band of Owls of the Overland. “You can leave a letter for Kent Kingdon, telling him that you have ceased to love him and, taking your own horse, have gone to the stage station to take the coach for the East, where you will rejoin your parents, “This will throw him off bis guard, and give you a chance to be in hiding until I can arrange my plans.” So Trumps had said, and that night Mabel was to join him in the timber aud he was to ac- company her to the home of a settler, one who lived alone with his wife and had been most friendly with her parents. But the unlooked-for return of Kent Kingdon had broken into her plan, and yet, when she saw him face to face, she had softened enough to warn him to make his escape, showing him that she knew all. He had refused, and more, he had clutched her throat in his iron grasp and hurled ber from him in his fury so that she fell to the floor. Then he left her, and in ber beart there was not one atom of feeling for him other than bit- terest hatred, “This night I leave here forever, and woe be unto Kent Kingdon, for I shall never again say aught to warn him to fly from the fate that now I know he must meet,” and she spoke with a bitterness that came from her inmost heart, When Kent Kingdon left the place, she set to work to gather into a package all that she wished to take with her. Then she went out and, as was often ber wont, turned her favorite horse Rescue, the animal which Kingdon had Leen riding when he saved her life, out in the yard near the cabin. Her saddle and bridle were on the piazza, and she felt that she Would bave no difficulty in escaping that night at the appointed time to meet Trumps, Night came and, when all was quiet, she set ‘** As I expected; but you caught her?” ‘Oh, yes, sir, and one other,’ ‘* Ah, who was it?” ‘** A young man whom we noticed skulking in the timber, sir. “The lady was to meet him there, and I put on a skirt and bonnet and just caught him nice and. slick.” ** You have done well, for 1 went after that same man, but failed to find him. ‘* Where is he?” ‘fn the spare room, sir.” ‘Good! see that he does not escape, and I will see bim in the morning,” and Kent Kingdon went to the sitting-room and threw himself down upon a lounge for the night, while Mabel, who had heard all that had been said, gave up all hope, and going to bed cried as though her heart would break, until at last, utterly worn out, she dropped off to sleep. CHAPTER XXI. A CHINESE FRIEND, WirtH his wife in durance vile, so that sbe could not escape to do him harm, and the young man, Trumps, who had been the one to betray him to Mabel, wholly in his power, Kent King- don slept without anxiety for the morrow, What to do with Mabel he hardly knew. He was not willing to give her up, at least, not yet, and he dared, not, with the Euowisdes she possessed, allow ber to go free. , Who the youth was he did not know. Cowboy Tom had told bim he was as hand- some as a woman, and yet had a nerve that he could not but admire. For a long time past, Kent Kingdon had heard of one who was on bis track, He was simply known as Trumps, and it was said that he was even more successful than was Kingdon, the Card King, in bandling the pasteboards, He was said to be hardly more than a boy, and yet was one fully able to take care of him- self under all circumstances. The constant inquiries he made for Kingdon soon reached his ears, and it was certain that he was following steadily and persistently on his trail. More than this the Card King knew nothing about him, and be had even forgotten his exist- ence, when be suddenly turned up at Refuge Ranch, And more still, he turned up in a dangerous way, for he had dared to betray him, Kingdon, to his wife. In his attempt to capture the young stranger, the Card 7 had failed, so it was a cause of rejoicing to him to know that he had him safe and sound in the cabin, through the cunning of Cowboy Tom who kad entrap him. The Card King awoke late the following morn- ing, and when he came out of the sitting-room where be had slept, his wife bad bad her break- fast and was standing upon the piazza. Around the house, at some distance, were several cowboys, and Mabel knew that they were the guards, although they seemed not to notice her, She did not address her husband as he came out upon the piazza, nor even glance toward bim, so he said: - ‘* Well, Mabel, you failed to escape last night.” “Tt is a long lane that has no turning, Sir Card King.” ““And your friend, with whom you were to elope, was captured, and is now safe in yonder room.” ‘You know that I meant not to elope, but to seek my freedom, to escape frum the hege of the captain of the Owls of the Overlan “‘May I ask if you intend to keep me a pris- oner here?” \ ‘Yes, until you accede to my wishes,” ‘What are they?” , “‘T happened to discover that your father pur- chased, some years ago when he was a rich man, a lot of worthless land to help a friend out, He has refused to sell it time and again, and upon its surface it does not appear to be worth > five hundred dollars. eee e' ‘ “But gold has been found in it, by whom, no matter, and I want thatland, - Pad 5 knew of it when I made you my wife, so coucluded to make myself owner by marryin you, although I confess I loved you as oan as it is in my nature to love any woman. ‘*T wrote to your father and offered to buy it of him, | ‘He refused to sell it from some reason, and then I wrote and told him that the da my duel with Horace I loaned bim one thousand dollars, and held bis due-bill for it, departure, But, as she stepped out upon the piazza, she was suddenly confronted by two dark forms. Instantly she shrunk back, and a voice said; ‘** You are under guard, lady, by the captain’s orders, so don’t make it bad for yourself by try- ing to escape.” Sb3 was almost crushed under the blow that fell so unexpectedly upon her. She knew that she was the prisoner of the man who had wrecked her life, and she made no reply; but she dreaded for Trumps, for, as she did not appear, he might come to the house in search of her, Then her worst fears were aroused as she saw her horse brought up, and a man spring into the saddle, : Upon his head was one of her own hats, and a shaw] and skirt enveloped him.\ Away he rode in the darkness, and he went directly toward the timber where she was to meet Trumps. ; He was not gone very long, and when he re- turned he was not alone, *‘ He has been captured,” groaned Mabel. The two approached the cabin and a man on the piazza called out: “You've got him, Tom?” “ Yes.” ‘The game worked all right?” “Oh yes, he thought I was the lady until I had my arms around him, and then he surren- dered, for I had my grip on his shooting-irons. * Where will we put him?” ‘*In the spare room, I guess,” was the reply, and Trumps was forthwith taken to a room on the other side of the hallway from Mabel’s room. ‘This is that man’s work, so I have more cause to note him, ““Ah! if { could but get away from here,” cried Mabel, almost in despair, for with Trumps a prisoner she had no hope of rescue, and she knew that all his plans must fall through and that Kent Kingdon had the game in his own ands. An hour later the sound of approaching hoof- falls came to the ears of Mabel, who had not yet retired, and after Kent Kingdon rode up to the piazza and dismounted. / ; “ Ah, Tom, you got my word then, and came?” he said, as the man who had captured Mabel ap- | Pe Yes, captain.” ‘* Any developments?” : “The lady tried to eseape, sir.” |“ before | —~ - ——e—_ = oe > a ds Se. * eee ~> ee ae s , 3 $y ~~ rae,
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— r*, Kent Kingdon, the Card King. 13 “This I would return to him, with as much more in cash for the land. ‘‘ He replied that he would not sell the land, as he had been advised not to do so. ‘* Now, I wish ‘be to write to your father as I dictate, telling him you wish him to give you the land, and when this is done you can go your way, leaving me whenever you wish, but until I own that property you are to be a prisoner. “Now you know what to do to escape from your present situation ‘* What do you say?” ‘‘T am not a member of the Owls of the Over- land band; Captain Kingdon, to rob my father, so I refuse,” was the indignant response, “Very well, I shall keep you a prisoner for some time, and if you do not yield then, I will find another way to make you do so,” “TI am not one to yield, Kent Kingdon, when the yielding means the robbery of my noble father, so do your worst,” and Mabel turned and entered her room. Wing-Wing was then clearing off the break- fast things, and Mabel motioned to him to re- main. Then she hastily wrote a letter to her father, and gave it to bim, along with a twenty-dollar gold-piece, “Mail it the moment you get the chance to send it to the stage station,” she whispered. ‘Allee lightee. Me got to havee things to eatee, and go buy to-day,” replied the Chinee. That day Wing-Wing drove in the wagon to the nearest store, after provisions, and the letter was mailed. , That was the letter which Doctor Manners had received, and at once wrote to Surgeon Powell about receiving his pledge to rescue Mabel from. the power of Kent Kingdon. The Chinee knew just what bis master was, and he was a sharer in the plunder taken by the Ow]s of the Overland; but he had proven a friend in need to Mabel in mailing the letter, and she felt most grateful to him for it, CHAPTER XXII. A BEAUTIFUL NEMESIS. AFTER his unsuccessful interview with Mabel, Kent Kingdon took his breakfast.alone, but ate with little relish, The cabin of the Refuge Ranch was, as 1 have said, a very large one. It had been added to, for a wing had been built upon one side, and in one of the rooms therein Trumps had been imprisoned. a patiently, He had gone to bed at once, taking his im- isonment very coolly, and when Wing-Wing ad bench him his breakfast he had greatly en acing decided to settle the mystery about the strange youth, who had been dogging his steps for so long a while, Kent Kingdon had ‘gone to the roov, and, unlocking the door had ente There by the window sat Trumps, gazing out. as though onging to be free, So my youn elo with ‘tay with a sneer, ‘He gazed A pod te youth with a look in which there seemed partial recognition of one whom he had seen before. “You know that you believe no such thing, as that your wife would elope with any one, and that [ only sought to aid her to escape from you,” was the haughty reply, Adonis, you attempted to e Jast night?” said Kingdon ' .' And missed it, eh?” “Yes; but it's a long lane that bas no turning, bapa Kingdon.” is wife’s own words, _They impressed bim as though a blow had struck him. _\““Where have we met before?” he asked im- “T cannot recall you.” “‘ Do you remember one, Carter Cameron?” * Ah! a West Point Cadet when I knew him, and the brother of my old lady-love, Camille Cameron,” It is he to whom I refer.” Are you Carter Cameron?” **Do you not now recall me?” : “Yes, and you are strangely like your sister. “ Have you taken up her quarrel against me, -may I ask?” “Yes, And Ihave trailed you here, to bave you hanged.” ; In spite of his nerve the man winced and _turned pale. c ‘* What deep injury did I ever do your sis- “You first won her love, and then trifled ith it.” “Whom you killed, and whose death I will avenge. “He was engaged to my sister, her whole soul was wrapped up in him, and he was the idol of her life. ‘“You cast a slur upon her in his presence, and before others, which he resented promptly, and the result was that fatal duel. ‘He fell by your hand and the sunshine went out of Camille’s/life from that day. “Tt nearly killed her at first, though people said she was cold and uuloving; but she was plotting revenge. ; ‘Fortunately an uncle died and left us a handsome fortune, soI was able to do as my sister urged, and follow upon your trail. ‘““She felt that you would do some act that would give the Diaeeee another bold upon you, and thus could you be brought to the gallows, “Do you know why I bave followed you, Kent Kingdon, chief of the Overland Owls?” The youth had spoken with deep earnestness, and ad Le ceased Kent Kingdon suddenly sprung toward bim. Grasping his arms before he could draw back, he dragged him close to the window, and then gaz-d fixedly into his face, Then sharp and ringing came his words: “* By Heaven, but you are not Carter Cameron —your story is a good one, you have played your part well, but I know you now, Camille Cameron!” Then with an oath he threw her from bim and strode from the room, The secret was out, the beautiful Nemesis was known to the man she had so successfully tracked: CHAPTER XXIII. ON THE TRAIL. ‘ Wuen Surgeon Frank Powell left Fort Ad- vance alone, be felt that he had a perilous un- dertaking on band. Buc he was not a man to shrink from any danger, and bis splendid nerve bad helped him out of many a scrape where other men would have gone under. He had taken with hima pack-horse, and the animal was as five a one as the splendid creature he rode, so that he had as good a mount in one as in the other. ing prepared for an indefinite stay, he had prepared accordingly, with extra ammunition, clothes and a camping outfit, and these formed the contents of the pack, the faithful horse that bore it not having to be led but trotting along- as his master, obedient to bis slightest word or call. Then before his departure from the fort, Surgeon Powell had held a long conversation with Colonel Rayal. The result of this was that soon after he left, a party of cavalry, two-score in number, accom- panied by several scouts, and under command of a young lieutenant who had several times distinguished bimself, started off for a certain designated point where =, were to go into a secr't camp and await orders from Surgeon Powell. P But it is just now with the Surgeon Scout that we have to deal, so we will strike his trail and see where it will lead us, ; His way led toward the Blue Water Valley settlement, and the afternoon of the second day from the fort, he rode into a dense piece of tim- ber, taking a trail which he seemed to have fol- lowed before. A ride of half a mile brought him to a canyon, going back into a heavily wooded bill, and dewn this a small stream flowed. The canyon did not penetrate very far back, but it was accessible only from the entrance, and its sides were carpeted with the finest grass, while the rivulet came from a spring that burst out of the rocks at the upper end of the gorge. “Unless a person should go up into the canyon to camp, there would seemingly be no other mo- tive to take him there, And it appeared that this was the motive of Surgeon Powell, for he dismounted and at once set about building a camp, He first cut with a hatchet taken from bis pack some long sapplings and made a barrier at a narrow part of the canyon, to prevent his horses getting out. A shelter of boughs was then thrown up, wood aegis for a fire, and the surgeon was ready or his suoper and to retire, = i He slept comfortably and well, with seemingly no dread of danger: but was up bright and early and had breakfast, Then he saddled one of his horses, mounted and rode down the canyon, putting up the bar- rier, and leaving the other animal in camp. / ‘ y ate bees a | Mad idee i 2% As though acquainted with the country to some extent, he made his way to the main trail and soon after came upon the humble home of a settler. The owner was in a field at work, and eyed him as he rode up with the look of a man who was ever ready for danger. ** My friend, can you tell me if this trail will lead me to Refuge Ranch?” asked the Surgeon Scout. ‘** Ob, yes, pard, but it’s about seven mile from here. ou be a soldier, isa’t you?” ‘* Yes, [am from the fort, and wished to visit an old friend at Refuge Ranch,Doctor Manners,” ‘‘ Lordy, pard, he’s been gone a loug time and it’s sorry I am of it, for he was a powerful fine doctor, and we hated to have him leave the settlement; but’he’s gone East, though his darter married Captain Kent Kingdon, tte cap'n of the Cowboy Rangers, and they lives there now.” ‘* Ah, indeed, then I will find them there?” and Surgeon Powell rode on his way. A long while before he had scouted through that country, and had a remembrance of it, as scouts always do who have a good bump of lo- cation. He had never seen Refuge Ranch, and was surprised at its propcrtions and look of solid; comfort, there in the wilderness, Upon the piazza stood Kent Kingdon, smok- ing a cigar, and as he caught sight of him com- Dg along the trail he slightly started, ‘ A Soldier! he cannot be alone. “Ho, Tom!” * Yes, sir,” and the guard whose duty it was to be ever near, came toward his captain. ‘*Get Buck and go in and gag and bind those women, or there will be the deuce to pay here.” It was a cruel order, but it was executed with- out the slightest trouble, for, rather than strug- gle, both Mabel and Camille Cameron ccnsented to the indignity. Weeks had passed away and ein in captivity, Kent Kingdon was sti the situation. were still After his recognition of Camille Cameron in “Trumps,” Kent Kingdon bad at once allowed her to go to the room with Mabel, knowing that she could tell her no more about him than she already had. There the two had lived in captivity, Wing- Wing supply tig them with their meals, Matel had been fairly startled at discovering in Trumps a woman, he bad never suspected such a thing fora moment; but she was ane that it was so, and that in Camille she found her dead brother’s old lady-love. hen cowboys Tom and Buck came in to bind and gag them, they could not understand what was the matter; but they submitted in silence. Hardly had the two cowboys left the rcom before Surgeon Powell rode up and was pleas- antly saluted by Kent Kingdon, who said: “T am glad to welcome you, sir, to Refuge Ranch, for I see that you are an officer from the t. My neme is Kent Kingdon, sir.” “* And my name is Frank Powell. ‘“‘T am Post Surgeon,” was the quiet response of Frank Powell, as be dismounted and joined Kent Kingdon upon the piazza. CHAPTER XXIV. AN OBSTACLE ON THE TRAIL, *T am glad to meet Surgeon Powell, whom 1 hite Bcaver and the have often heard of as urgeon Scout. *“ You will be my guest, sir, for some time, I hope; but are you alone?” ‘** Yes, Mr. Kingdon, my command is not with me, and I came to visit an old friend, whose house I believed this was. “*T refer to Dector Manners.” “Ah, yes, he left some time ago; but bis daughter is my wife, though just now she is aor, from home for a few days visiting some neighbors. ‘*T am sorry you will not be able to see her,” ‘* And so am I, sir, though [ have not met her since she was agirl. I believe you command the Cowboy Rangers, do you not, sir?” ’ “Yes, Surgeon Powell, and we have been ever ready to help the soldiers from the fort when needed.” Thus they talked together for some time, Sur- geon Powell trying to draw the ranchero out on many topics, and at the same time studying the situation as well as he could, ; He knew that Kingdon spoke falsely when he said that Mabel was away visiting neighbors, ‘“*T believe she is here, and, as her father said, a prisoner. ‘I must try my other plan to find her out,’>— master of
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14 he musea to himself, while Kent Kingdon was ‘talking. So na#aral seemed the visit of the Surgeon Scout, that not a suspicion of him was aroused in the mind of Kent Kingdon. He took the visit, as Frank Powell had said it was, and parted from him in a very friendly manner, seeming to regret that he could not stay longer. *‘T wish to overtake my command,” had been Powell’s excuse, and mounting his horse, he rode away on the trail toward the fort. Every word that.had been said by the two, as they were seated on the piazza, both Mabel and Vamille had heard. “Oh! that we could have given an alarm!” cried Mabel, after Cowboy Tom had corthe in and released them of their bonds and taken the gags from their mouths, ‘**The result would haye been to get that splendid Surgeon Scout killed, for Kingdon bas half a dozen of his cowboys within call, and it would not have bettered our case, Mabel.” “You are right, Camille; I did not think of that; but do you know I think he came here for a purpose,” ‘ He stated it—to see your father.” ‘Somehow I feel that he had another motive in coming.” ‘* Heaven grant that he did, and if so, Mabel we are in safe hands, for I have often heard of ‘the wonderful deeds of the Surgeon Scout,” And while they talked on, Surgeon, Powell was quietly riding away from the cabin. { ‘Tom, mount your horse and see if the sur- geon takes the direct trail to the Overland, which leads to the fort, for heis a dangerous man to have in these parts, and might be in- quisitive if he met any of the men.” re departed at once, and closely dogged the trail of Surgeon Powell until] he saw him take the one which led to the Overland. ** No harm in him,” he muttered, and he went ‘back and so reported to his chief, Had he gone further, however, he would have seen the Sargeon Scout turn back, having pur- “yy; .. posely gone the way he did in case he should be “y ’ tracked, { dra As he reached a rise of land, which was to hic heavily wooded, Surgeon Powell glanced back wy non! caught sight of a horseman off upon the oT? ‘prairie, uae _ fle knew that he had not been seen by the’ ‘As stranger, and was anxious to get a closer view oan of him, so concealed his horse near by and took out a up his position in the woods, As the man came along Surgeon Powell saw aie", ‘that he was well armed and mounted, though skin his horse had the appearance of having had a agon hard ride of it. ; ; aut ‘*He may be an honest fellow, and he may be by tl an Overland Owl,” mused the Surgeon Scout, as tite { the horseman drew nearer. OTE . Then he gazed more intently at him, and mut- deaec tered in a surprised tone: f skin “ As T live, it is Dick Roberts, the deserter!” } the « A moment after, and the Surgeon Scout step- bY Be _ ped in front of the man, and, with revolver lev- geor eled, called out: > weit « Hands up, Dick Roberts, the deserter !” plac — me ary CHAPTER XXV, | the: A DESERTER’S MEMORY. oT) THE man whom Surgeon Powell had so unex- - jike pectedly confronted was fairly caught. “gro: -—-—~_:«sHe, however, reined bis horse back with one twe hand, as though to turn in flight, while with the - his other he drew a revolver. nob But he did not use it, for he said: Pate eee _ “Not upon you can I fire, Surgeon Powell, ‘fort. I surrender, sir.” was “You are wise, Roberts, in doing so; but I _ # must tie you, for I remember you of old.” am ‘Don’t be hard on me, Surgeon Powell, for rr J) you know that my capture means death.” ten: ‘T know that well, and between ourselves, BA my man, you deserve it. bal bax ‘But l'wish a talk with you, so come over pant in the timber with me, away from the rail, I met The man obeyed, and they halted at the spot where Surgeon Powell’s horse was in hiding. ~ “Dismount and vagal ’ _ can see your face, MeL yet i “Tt is useless to tell you that I will stand no Beek oS Its, sir, for I know ou.” Havi e man’s belt of arms, Su a sed tehiss against a tree, as he gazed straight “Dick Roberts, do.you rem the : yin horse pani ait bhi Bs go miyg ith 5 you turned ba we ® t x sit there, Roberts, where I | _ _ Having taken the m: zeon we ‘powell sited onpoetis tov him, his arms folded, | Kent Kingdon, the Card King. mounted and helped me to my feet, for I was badly hurt, and then gave me your horse, spring- ing up behind me yourself?” ** T remember it, sir.” ‘“*Do, you remember, also, that owing you my life, when you killed Corporal Batt, you would have been shot had I not helped you to escape?” ‘* | will never forget it, sir.” ‘*-You were not to blame, I was sure, in kill- ing the corporal, for he attacked you; but you were not popular, had a bad record, and so the case went against you, and you are now under sentence, as well as being a deserter.” ‘* T remember it all, sir, and that you returned the favor I.did you. ‘‘T'll pever forget you, Surgeon Powell.” ** Now, Roberts, I have heard that you were a member of the outlaw band known as Over- land Owls. “Did I want proof of it, here it is, as this is. one of the head-dresses those devils wear,” and Surgeon Powell suddenly drew out of the man’s hunting-shirt an object that at first looked like an owl’s head. But it was a feather mask, made to represent an owl’s head. ‘*T’m done for, sir, that’s certain.” ‘* That depends.” **Oh, sir, don’t let me die.* ‘* Now, Roberts, these Owls cannot much longer keep up their desperate work of outlawry. ‘*T know who their chief is, and I believe Seay now going to him with news of some ind. ‘* Sooner or later the end must come, and the gallows will be your end if you goonas you now are doing.” ‘What can I do, sir, for I am in your hands?’ and the man’s whole face was full of anguish at his position. ‘“*T will tell you.” ‘*Please do, sir.” ‘] will get you a pardon from the President and then, that you many lead an honest life, if will give you a situation as manager of my ranch in Nebraska, for I well know your ability, and that you enlisted in the army asa private because you were penniless,” ‘*T did, sir; I was born for a different life, but 1 threw my chances away.” ‘Now, Roberts, if you will obey me in all things, I will do as I have said, and I mean that you shall be my ally in running the Owls of the Overland to earth, ‘*T hate to betray my comrades, sir, bad as we allare.” ° Listen, I know that Kent Kingdon of Refuge Ranch is your chief. “Am I not right?” ** Yes, sir.” ‘“*T suspect that all the cowboys in his employ, and he has four ranches, I believe, are his men, and no more or less than Owls. ** Now, with this knowledge I can go in and ferret out matters myself; but I wish to hasten it through with your aid, as Kingdon has his wife a prisoner, and he deserves hanging if ever man did, _“T do not wish "ye to appear in the matter, simply be my ally, and I will do as I told uu ou. “Tf you refuse, I have a company of cavalry near here, under command of your former lieu- tenant, Carter Cameron, and I will place you in his bands and. he will carry out the coldnel’s orders, to shoot you dead wherever found. — ‘* Which will you choose, Robertete ‘Oh, sir! there is no choice, for 1 am tired of this life of outlawry.” ie . ‘* And you will not prove treacherous to me?” ‘Did I not risk my life to save you one day, Surgeon Powell? ‘*Did you not help me to escape? we Could I be treacherous to you, sir?” “*T believe in your good faith, Roberts, and here is my hand on it, “Now come to my camp with meand tell me what you know about these Overland Owls.” ‘*T am going to see the chief now, sir.” *“{ thought so; and you have news for him?’ “T have a letter from the lieutenant, sir.” * Where is he?” : __ “At the other end of the line, sir, living on the ranch.” ' : “T see, How many ranches has Kingdon?” _ “He has seven, sir.” } af _ “And how many pretended cowboys? “ He has six with him, sir, five with the lieu- femal, and four at each of the other ranches, ir, one | know, ! y y 4 ca) lieu f whom pretends to be the boss, you | f ep Sua : Ari Tao iet otras 33 inj Thirty-one, and two more counting King- ef back, a: ' don and the Hcutenane™ ne ‘Yes, sir, and I live at the ranch with the lieutenant, and am special courier.” ‘* All right, now for the letter.” The man handed it over, and the two rode on to the Surgeon Scout’s secret camp, each lest in his own thoughts, _ CHAPTER XXVI. WHITE BEAVER’S PLOT. THe Surgeon Scout found his camp just as he had left it, fis horse enjoying himself, as he felt that he was literally in clover. The horses of the surgeon and the deserter © were turned luose, and then dinner Was cooked and both enjoyed it, as they bad had nothing to eat since breakfast, and it was then after dark. The letter bore no address, and by the fire- a ie Surgeon Powell read it aloud, for be open- the envelope without difficulty, so that it could be resealed, The letter read as follows: “ A Government train, ten wagons. * Sixty mules. “One Paymaster’s ambulance, with money to pay, soldiers, “* Ten drivers. “Guard of six soldiers mounted, * Arrive at Wildcat Canyon on Sunday, ** Rich treat.”’ % : There was no signature and in spite of its dis- jointed sentences, Surgeon Powell understood that there was a Government train, richly freighted, with pay master along to pay troops, bound to the fort, and the number of men ac- companying given, while Wildcat Canyon would be the place to attack them, **T was most fortunate in meeting you Roberts, for. that train would bave been wi out by the Owls, and after such a rich haul they could have escaped from the country. “This goes to your credit, my friend.” “*T am glad, sir.” ‘“ Now, Roberts, I want you to go on to-mor- row to Refuge Ranch, and give this letter to Kingdon, ; : ‘You see I trust you.” ‘You can, sir.” ; ** Then, | suppose you will start back to order the different gangs of cowboys to rendezvous at Wildcat Canyon?” ** Yes, sir,’ “ T will meet you at the place I met you yes- terday, and thus know ROTA Blane, and you can go on and obey your orders, after which you are to join me, for you must keep from going upon the trail with the Owls.” ** 1 can, sir, for I’ll play sick.” “All right. ‘* Then join me at Bald Knob Canyon, Satur-. day at noon.” ‘© 111 be there, sir, without fail,” “ And do not be alarmed if you see soldiers, for remember you are my ally and I protect you,” “Yes, sir.” ee “Now here are your weapons, and we will turn in for the night, and to-morrow begin to carry out our plot.’ Bright and aarty the surgeon and thedeserter were awake, and the latter soon after rode off on. his mission, while the formengtook a trail that would lead him to the scene of their meeting on the afternoon before, For hours the surgeon remained in watching, but at last the forms of a horse and rider ap- peared in view, and he recognized the deserter. Showing himself, he walked away toward where he had left his horse, and there Dick Rob- erts soon joined him, ‘Well, Roberts, what news?” ANG “T must hurry, sir, for ny captain will be along presently, as he is going to the ranches to collect the men, and 1 bave orders to tell the lieutenant to meet him with bis cowboys at the Dry Brook to morrow night, for it is not very far from the Wildcat Canyon.” Te ‘ - ey — Ft Dee eg ee, ae ‘Good; you bave done well; but did you dis- _ ng about Kingdon’s wife?” ” ¢ u,as I said, So saying, the deserter " wee be Frank Powell lay hidden one te: Ane y
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oe ae 4 ~~ ee ee ee > void eo 5 ets yp _ Pos _ ee a Kent Kin ‘*The scamp has done well to thus hide his hand under the cover of rancheros and cowboys. ** Now 1 can understand why he never did any service in fighting the Indians, but made believe do so, for he is friendly with old Red Dog, the Sioux chief. ** To-night I shall make another visit to Ref- uge Ranch.” Upon his return to his secret camp, Surgeon Powell set to work to metamorphose himself completely, He took from his pack a rough suit of clothes, boots and a slouch hat. Then he gave his hair and beard an unkempt appearance, anj the pack produced another sad- dle and bridle, and these he put: upon the horse which he had left in camp on his former visit to the ranch, Buckling on his belt of arms, he started for Refuge Ranch, taking good care to arrive there just after dark, Cowboy Tom saw him coming at a gallop, and met him as he came to a halt, ) Having seen the man the day before, and heard Kingdon call him by name, he sung out: “Is you Cowboy Tom?” sh YE ** Well, you is the man I wants ter see, for the cap’D sent me, ‘Whar is Buck?” “ Over in the cabin yonder, getting his supper. “ Who are you?” The reply wis’a pistol shoved into his face, a grasp upon the throat and the low-uttered words: ‘Give an outery, @ move and [ will kill you.” The man was completely cowed ‘by the sud- denness of the attack, and he made not the slightest resistance. ith wonderful celerity Surgeon Powell bound him with his lariat, and then forced a corner of his bat into his mouth as a gag, bind- ing it there securely. ; Then he led him to the piazza and tied him to a post. 2 Quictly seating himself, he awaited the com- ing of Buck.’ ' ® had not long to wait, for the man soon ap- peared, and came directly up to him, to find the muzzle of a pistol in his face, and hear the words: ** Hands up, pard, or die!” Up went the outlaw’s hands, for he knew that Tom must be dead or a prisoner, and he sup- posed that there were others near, “Pll take your weapons,” said the Surgeon Scout, and he suited the action to the words, | ** Now stand against, that ti.” The man sullenly obeyed, and he was very quickly bound securely with a rope that hung on his saddle lying on the piazza, for a light shone out of the sitting-room door full upon it, ‘* Are there more of you here?” asked Powell, * Two heathen Chinee,” “ They are not dangerous. “Now give the key to the room where those ie are.” _ ‘Tt is in the door,” : ‘geon Powell stepped to the door and _ ‘* Who is it?” asked Mabel. ‘A friend, and I have come to rescue you, a8 I have your guards secure, “Tam Surgeon Frank Powell, Miss Manners, and av old friend of your father.” | Acry of joy came from wi and unlock- ing the door, Surgeon Powell found himself in the presence of Mabel and Camille Cameron. Explanations followed, the Chinese were call- ed in, and Mabel saying that Mies could be trusted, Surgeon Powell rode back to his camp, of the prisoners, leaving them in charge ! is attire for his uniform, He soon changed ‘and within two hours was back again at tne and Mabel remembered them long after he had ridden away from the ranch, and afterward had good reason to recall them to mind. CHAPTER XXVII. BROUGHT TO BAY. THe Surgeon Scout reached the Bald Knob Canyon on the afternoon of the day following his departure from Refuge Ranch. He had his prisoners firmly tied to their sad- dles, so felt no fear of their escape, an he press- ed on as rapidly as he could. His other horse he had left at the ranch, so there was little to delay him, and he reached the secret camp of Lieutenant Cameron and his men without delay. A scout on duty saw him, and not long after he rode up to the camp of the young lieutenant, Carter Cameron was a handsome fellow, one who had distinguished himself, and was a gen- eral favorite, ‘“Pm delighted to see you, Powell, and I see that you have some game,” and he nodded toward the two prisoners, “Yes, they are Owls,” was the reply, Powell told his story, and then said: ‘*Now, Cameron, 1 have good news for you.” ‘“* For me?” “Yes, for you have grieved fora long time over one who was not dead.” ‘* Great God! my sister you refer to?” ‘*T do, and she is safe and well,” and the sur- geon told the story as be had heard it from Camille’ herself. ‘I promised tbat: you would soon be with her, and now let us prepare for the march, for we must be ready to dash upon those Owls at the moment they make the attack on the train, and I wish to send a scout by a flanking trail, to put the officer in charge on his guard, so that we can give Kingdon and his outlaws a perfect thrashing. Lieutenant Cameron gave the necessary or- ders, and at once a scout started upon his mis- sion. The command got ready to move by night- fall, and when tbe Sabbath-day sun arose the next morning, they were lying inambush await- ing to strike their blow. ‘rue to his word, Dick Roberts had come to the rendezvous made with Surgeon Powell, and all was in readiness to strike a death-blow against the Owls of the Overland. They had not long to wait, for the train soon reached the scene of attack, and the Owls of the Overland dashed out from their ambush, But the train had already been warned, and, though apparently surprised, théy were on their uard, and the outlaws were met by a withering re. As th>y rallied, soldiers dashed up the canyon behind the train, and others came from ahead, and the scene was a startling one. The Overland Owls saw that all was lost, and they made a dash for their liberty, Some wentlown dead, others were wounded, but a few got through the fire. te) fiiees was Kent Kingdon, the chief, He had a mask over his face, and supposed he was not recognized, until Surgeon Powell called and out: “Kent Kingdon, you are my game,” Then he knew all was lost, that he was known, and that the surgeon had indeed had a motive in coming to Refuge Ranch, Wheeling in his pete ey fired his rifle quick-. ly, and the horse of the Surgeon Scout fell ead, The rider was momentarily stun for he fell heavily, and when he became himself once more the chief of the Overland Owls had es- caped, “* Lieutenant Cameron, this victory_is marred by the escape of Kent Kingdon; but I will! pur- sue him, for I know where he will go. __ You let your wounded and prisoners go on with the train to the fort, and then’ pe by ata Ranch and get your sister and Miss “ Please ask the latter father a d to at once telegraph her ut, Powell, do not take such a risk.” “e will do so, for that sna life ae end. ‘* T will get back as soon as I can, and Roberts will go with me, so let us have your two best ‘ rses Urging against his going was useless, and ten minutes after the Sureeon Scout, accompanied by Dick Roberts, started upon the trail of Kent ingdon, the chief of the Overland Owls, The trail was taken upat the point where Kingdon was last seen in rapid flight, and it was followed until night, be Then at dawn it was taken up again, and late gdon, the Card King. SS nn gna SY eS ee Se Tee = pa te a Se ee 15 | in the afternoon the foothills were reached, not ~~, far from tne village of Red Dog, ‘the Sioux chief. Just at sunset Dick Roberts, who had often been sent on a message to Red Dog, by bis cbief, gave a signal as they came im sight of a heavily timbered hill. The signal was answered, an Indian warrior came fcrward and greeted then), and both pang svncumined they were led to the tepee of og. . As they approached they saw, seated by the large fire, Kent Kingdon. Right up to the fire the Indian guide led Pow- ell and the deserter; and be said: ate “The great white medicine-man has come to see our chief.” With a cry of alarm Kent Kingdon was upon his feet, and his band upon bis revolver. ' But Frank Powell was the quickest to fire, and at his shot Kent Kingdon dropped in his tracks. All was at once excitement, but the loud voice of Red Dog calmed the tumult, and knowing from bis own lips that Kingdon's baud was de- stroyed and he a fugitive, he cared nothing more for him and said: “The Gold Chief would have killed my white brother the mighty medicine-man,” : He made a motion to his braves, and Kent Kingdon, still breathing, was carried away ~ from the camp-fire, “Tt have come to see,my red brother, the mighty chief of the Sioux, for I was afraid his wound might be bad,” said the Surgeon Scout coolly. % My white brother has a big heart, and he is welcome, He can do the Red Dog much good.” Not willing to lose any more time in the In- dian camp then he could help, Powell at once began to look at the chief’s wounded leg and having dressed it again, told him that he could not be doing better, ‘* My medicine-men have done as my brother told them,” said Red Dog, and he wished the Surgeon Scout to remain all night. But he told him that there were many wound- ed mea to look after among bis own people, and leaving the old scamp under the imp on that he had come simply to dress his wounded lee, Powell took his departure accompanied by Dick. Roberts. Back to the fort they made their way and ar- rived without further accident, only half a day behind Lieutenant Cameron and his men, who had gone to Refyge Ranch and escorted Mabel and Camille to Fort Advance, where the warm- est welcome had been given them by all. Dick Roberts was very nervous about foin back to the fort, but Surgeon Powell. said th all would be well, and he led him at once to Colonel Rayal and told his story, and gave him > the credit of the detention of the Overland Owls. ‘* Now, colonel, I have promised this man a pardon, so. I beg you to make an application to that effect and send it on, sir.” , “Tt shall be done, Powell, and Roberts can re- main at headquarters here until it is heard from,” was the reply. lh Then Surgeon Powell song Mabel and as she warmly greeted him, he said: “I told you, Miss Mabel, that your wicked husband should trouble you no more. ‘““T now confirm my words, for you are free ah 45» gb iat Sag edd 4 e lips quivered, the hea ed an Mabel turned away to hide her emotion. ay Ny she soon recovered her self-control and said: vi / “It is over now, sir, and he shall be banished from my heart. I owe all to you, my dear friend, and Heaven ever bless you.” 5 ‘‘And Horace Manners is avenged through you, Surgeon Powell, and I am no longer a emesis,” said a voice near, and Camille — Cameron came forward and P Sate them. Several days after Carter Cameron got a leave to go and escort his sister and Mabel t, and, her own home having been broken up, Camille accepted the pressing invitation given her to go to St. Louis, and they arrived to find a warm welcome indeed from Doctor Manners and his wife, for they had telegraphed their coming, and the news had rapidly cured Mrs. Manners of all — sorrow and ilfness. ~ { Me That night in the hospitable home of Doctor Manners, the story was told all over again,and _ then Mabel said rata! & ’ ee “From this night Iam Mabel Manners once _ more, and I beg of you all never again speak to me of the man who so nearly wrecked my life, the man who caused us all so much of sorrow, | and who, under the face of an angel had the heart of a fiend.” AR aCe sala a a ‘THE END, 2 a
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BEADLE'S« H ALF- DIME*]_ IBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Un BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. Deadwood Dick Novela. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Deadwood Dick’s Defiance; or, Double Daggers. 28 Deadwood Dick in Disguise; or, Buffal) Ben. 85 Deadweod Dick in His Castle. 42 Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza; or, The santom Miner. 49 Deadwood Dick in Danger; or, Omaha Oli, 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards oi Flood Bar. 78 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity 4 \ne, the Heroine, 7% Deadwood Dick’s Last Acts or, Corturey Charlie. 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 Gorgon’s Guich Ghost. 188 Deadwood Dick’s Home Base; or, Blonde Bill. 149 Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike; or, A Game of Gold. 156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood: or, The Picked Party. 195 Deadwood Dick’a Dream; or, The Rivils of the Road. 201 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hill’s Jezebel. 205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Adventure. 217 Deadwood Dick’s Dead Deal. 221 Deadwood Dick’s Death-Plant. 282 Gold-Dust Dick. A Romance of Roughs and Toughs, 268 Deadwood Dick’s Divide ; or, The Spirit of Swamp Lake. 268 Deadwood Dick’s Death Trall. 809 Deadwood Dick’s Deal; or, The Gold Brick of Oregon, 821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flats. 847 Deadwood Dick’s Ducats; or, Days in the Diggings. 85% Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta, 862 Deadwood Dick’s Claim. 405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City. Dick’s Diamonds. Dick in New York} or, A “ Cute Case,’ Dick’s Dust; or, The Chained Hand, Dick, Jr. Dick, Jr.’s, Deflance, Dick, Jr.’s, Full Hand. Dick, Jr.’s, Big Round-Up. 465 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Racket at Claim 10, 471 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Corral; or, Bozeman Bill. 476 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dog Detective, 481 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Deadwood. 491 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Compact. 496 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Inheritance, 600 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Diggings. 508 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Deliverance, 515 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Protegee. 522 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Three.’ 529 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’*, Danger Ducks, 584 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s» Death Hunt. 589 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Texas, 544 Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vid 549 Deadwood Dick, Jr., on His Mettle, 554 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Gotham, 5661 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Boston. Dick, Jr., tn Philadelphia, Dick, Jr., in Chicago, 578 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Afloat. 684 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Denver. 590 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’4, Decree. 595 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Beelzebub’s Basin, 600 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Coney Island, 606 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Leadville Lay, 612 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Detroit. 618 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Cincinuattl. 624 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Nevada, 680 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in No Man’s Land, 686 Deadwood Dick, Jr., After the Queer. gaa Deadwood Dick, Jr., In Buffalo. Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler, 26 Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon. 82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot, 89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York. 45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand, 58 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix. 1 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team. 69 Geld Rifle, the yyy meg or, The oe Detective, 80 Rosebud Rob; or, ugget Ned, the Knight. 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner} or, Rosebud Rob on Hand. 88 Phetograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance, 92 Canada © et 3 or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp. 96 Watch-Eye3 or, Arabs and Angels of a Great City, 18 Jack Hoste the Young Speculator. 17 Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective. 21 Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport. 25 Bonanza Bill, Miner. 88 Bossa Bob the King of Bootblacka, 41 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent. 2 Captain Ferret, the New York Detective, —S ee -_ New York io See Boy-Girl Detective. 177 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Sierras Scamps, 181 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Brayo, 209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective. 218 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventril 6 Snoozer, tle Boy Sharp; or, The Arab 286 Apollo BAI, the Trail Tornado. 240 Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator. 244 Sierra Sam, the Frontier Ferret. 248 Sierra Sam’s Secret; or, The Bloody Footprints, 253 Slerra Sam’s Pardy or, The Angel ot Big Vista, 258 Sierra Sam’« Seven 3 or, The Stolen Bride. & 278 Jumbo Joe, the Boy Patrol; or. The Rival Heirs, 277 Denver Doll, the Detective Queen. 2S1 Denver Doll’« Victory. 255 Denver Doll's 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 Toll-Taker. 808 ’Liza Jane, the Girl Miner; or, the Iron-Nerved Sport, 825 Kelley, Hickéy & Co.,, the Detectives of Philadelphia, 880 Little Quick-Shot; or, The Dead Face of Daggersville, 8 Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miver. 889 Kangaroo Kit’s Racket. 8 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood. 858 First-Class Fred, the Gent trom Gopher. 868 Vreka Jim, the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Life Lottery, 872 Yreka Jim’s Prize. B78 Naboh Ned}; or, The Secret of Slab City, BS2 Cool Kit, the King of Kids; or, A Villain’s Vengeance, 885 Yreka Jim’s Jokers or, The Rivals of Red Nose, 889 Bicycle Ben; or. The Lion of Lightning Lode, 894 Yreka Jim of Yuba Dam, 400 Wrinkles, the NightsWatch Detective. 416 High Hat Marry, the Base Ball Detective. 426 Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective, 4 Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detectives, 8 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher. 6 Sealskin Sam, the Sparkler, uist Hunter, letective, BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM, 7 The Flying Yankee}; or, The Ocean Outcast. 17 Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer; or, The Fugitive Yacht, 24 Diamond Dirks or, The Mystery of the Yellowstone, 62 The Shadow Ship}; or, The Rival Lieutenants. 75 The Boy Dnelist; or, The Cruise of the Sea- Wolf. 02 Dick Dead-Eye, the Boy Smuggier, Il The Sen-Devit 3 or, The Midshipman’s Legacy. 16 The Hussar Capt ulin 3 or, The Hermit of Hell Gate, 97 Little Grits; or, Bessie, the Stock-Tender’s Daughter. 04 Gold Plume ; or, Buffalo Bill, the Pony Express Rider. 216 Bison Bill, the Prince of the Reins; or, Bushido Bill’s Pluck, 222 Grit, the Braye Sports or, The Woman Trailer, 229 Crimson Kate 3 or, The Cowboy’s Triumph, 287 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain. 245 Merle, the Middy ; or, The Freelance Heir. 250 The Midshipman utineer ; or, Brandt, the Buccaneer, 264 The epg F eather: or, Merle Monte’s Treasure, 269 The Gold Sh Ps _or, Merle, the Condemned. 276 Merle Monte’s Cruise; or, The Gold Ship ? Chase, 280 Merle Monte’« Fate ; or, Pearl, the Pirate’s Bride, 284 The Sea Marauder; or, Merle Monte’s Pledge. 287 Billy Blue-Eyes, the Boy Rover of the Rio Grande. 804 The Dead Shot Dandy ; or, Bemto, the Boy Bugler, 808 Keno Kit; or, Dead Shot I andy’s Double. 814 The Mysterious Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’s Trail, 877 Bonodel, the Buy Rover; or, The Flagless Schooner, 888 The Indian Pilot; or, The Search for Pirate Island, 887 Warpath WII, the Boy Phantom. 898 Seawalf, the Boy Lieutenant. 402 Iaodor, the Young Denspivater s or, The Fatal League, 407 The i, Insurgent; or, The Cuban Vendetta. 412 The Wild Vachtemans; or, The War-Cloua’s Cruise. 429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee. 488 A Cabin Boy's Luck; or, The Corsair. 487 The. Sea Raider. 441 The Ocean Firefly 3 or, A Middy’s Vengeance. 446 Haphazard Moxey. 3 or, Tne Scapegrace of the Sea, 450 Wizard Will: or, The Boy Ferret ot New York. 454 Wizard Will's Street Scouts. 462 The Born Guide ; or, The Saiior Boy Wanderer, 465 Neptune Ned, the Boy Coaster. 474 Flora; or, Wizard Will’s Vagabond Pard, 488 Ferrets Afloat; or, Wizard Will’s Last Case. 487 Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger. 495 Arizona Joe the Boy Pard of Texas Jack. 497 Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. 503 The Royal Middy ¢ or, The Shark and the Sea Cat. 507 The Hunted Midshipman, 511 The Outlawed Middy. 520 Buckskin Bill, the Comanche Shadow, 525 Brothers in Buckskin. 580 The Buckskin Bowers. 585 The Bue skin Rovera. 540 Captain Ku-Klux, the Maranvder of the Rio, 545 Licutenant Leo, the Son of Lafitte. 550 Lafitte’s Legacy; or. The Avenging Son, 555 The Creole Corsair. 560 Pawnee BIII, the Prairie Shadower. 565 Kent Bingden, the Card King. 570 Camille, the Card Queen. 575 The Surgeon-Scout Detective, 580 The Outcast Cadet; or, The False Detective. 586 The Buckskin Avenger. 591 Delmonte, the Young Sea Rover. 597 The Young Texan Detective. 602 The Vagabond of the Mines. 607 The Rover Detective; or, Keno Kit’s Champions, 61% Ralph, the Dead-Shot Scout; or, The Rio Raiders. 644 The Hercules Highwayman. 650 Butterfly Billy, the Pony Kider Detectiye; or, Buffalo Bill’s Boy Para. 656 Butterfly Billy’s Man Wunt. 662 Butterfly Billy’s Bonanza. 668 The Buccaneer Midsxhipman. 674 The Wizard Sailor; or, Red Ralph, the Rover. 679 The Sea Shadower; or, The Freebrotr’s Legacy. 686 Orlando, the Ocean Free Flag; or, The Tarnished Name, 692 The Rival Sharps; or, Redfern, the Secret Service Scout, % The Searlet Sombrero; or, The Sharp from Texne. 702 Biue Jacket Bill; or, The Red Hat Rangers’ Red Hot Recket 707 The Red Sombrero Rangers; or, Redfern’s Last Trail, BY BUFFALO BILL (fon. Wm. F. Cody), 8 Kansas King; or, The Red Right Hand. 19 The Phantom Spy: or, The Pilot of the Prairie, 55 Deadly-Eye, the Unknown Scent, 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairie Rover. 158 Faney Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trust, BY OHARLES MORRIS, 118 WIIl Somers, the Boy Detective, 122 Phil Mardy, the Boss Boy. 126 Picayune Pete 3 or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detective. 180 Detective Dick; or, The Here tn Rags. 142 Handsome Marry, the Bootblack Detective, 147 Will Wildfire, the Thoroughbred, 2 Black Besa, Will Wildfire’s Racer. Mike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy. Will Wildfire In the Woods. Billy Baggage, the Railroad Boy. z Trump Card ¢ or, W)l! Wildfire Wins and Loses. ob Rockett; or, Mysteries of New York. Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, The Hidden Hand or, Will Wildfire's Revenge. Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy; or, The Smugglers, Bob Rockett; or, Driven to the Wall. 6 Shadowed ; or, Bob Kockett’s Fiylt for Life. 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. 220 Tom Tanner; or, The Black Sheep of the Flock, 225 Sam Charcoal the Premiom Darky, 235 Shadow Sam, the Messenver Boy. 242 The Two * Bloods”; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang, 252 Dick Dashaway ; or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago, 262 The Young Sharps: or, Rollicking Mike’s Hot Trail 274 Jolly Jim, the Detective Apprentice. 289 Jolly Jims Job; or, The Young Detective. 298 The Water-Hound;: or, The Young Thoronghored. 805, Dashawny, of Dakota; or, A Western Lad in Quaker City. $24 Ralph Ready, the Hote) Boy Detective. 841 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective, 858 The Reporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyer’s Blizzard. 867 Wide-Awake Joe; or, A Boy of the Times, 879 Larry, the Levelers or, Thé Bloods of the Boulevard, 408 Firetly Jack, 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 Vaganond. 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 Roy Detective. 596 Jimmy the Kid; or, A Lamb Among Wolves. 627 Tom Bruce of Arkansas: or, The Wolf in the Fold. 655 Plucky Paul, the Boy Speculator. 667 Rob and Sam, the Daisy Detectives. 709 The Curbstone Detective; or, Horry Hale's Big Beat. Saw eS ne tee ei ~ ~ SRPDAING iform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers, BY J. ©. COWPRIOCK, 860 Silver-Mask, the Man of Mystery. 869 Shasta, the Gold King} or, For Seven Years Dead. 420 The Detective’s A prentice; or, A Boy Without » Name. 424 Cibuta John} or, ked-Hot Times at Ante Bar, 4389 Sandy Sam, the Street Scout. 467 Disco Dan, the Daisy Dude. 490 Broadway Billy, the Bootblack Bravo. 506 Redlight Ral the Prince of the Road, 514 Broa way Billy’s Boodle. 524 The Engineer Detective. 586 Broadway Billy’s ‘Difikilty.” 548 Mart, the Night Express Detective. 557 Hae ity | Billy’s Peath Racket. 571 Air-Line Luke ‘the Young Engineer, 579 The Chimney Spy; or, Broadway Billy’s Surprise-Party 592 The Boy Pinkerton. 605 William 0’ Broadway} or, The Boy Detecttive’s Big Inning, 615 Fighting Harry the Chief of Chained Cyclone. 628 Broadva Billy ’s Dead Act, 640 Barebrek Beth, the Centaur of the Circle. 7 Typewriter Tilly, the Merchant’s Ward. 659 Moonlight Morgan, the *‘ Pizenest ’? Man of Ante Bar. 669 Broadway Billy Abroad. 675*Broadway Billy’s Beat; or, Beating San Francisce's Finest. 687 Broadway Billy in Clover. 696 Broadway Billy in Texas, 708 Bronaway Billy’s Brand, 711 Broadway Billy at Santa Fe. BY T. ©. HARBAUGH. Nick o’ the Nights or, The Boy Spy of 76. The Hidden Lodge; or The Litth Hunter, Nightingale Nat; or, Tne Forest Captains, Jand Tock $ or, The Outlaws of the Oregon Trali. Kit Marefoot the Wood-Hawk. Midnight Jack ; or, The Boy Trapper. Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen, Kiowa Charley the White Mustanger. Judge Lynch, Jr.¢ or, The Buy Vigilante. Gold Trigger, the Sport; er, The Girl Avenger. Tornado Tom} or, Injun Jack From Red Core. 88 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. Arkansaw ¢ or, The Quuen of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. 215 Captain Bullet; or, Little Topknot’s Crusade, 281 Plucky Phils or, Rosa, the Re Jezebel. 241 Bill Bravo; or, The Roughs of the Rockies. 255 Captain Apoli-, tne King-Pin of Bowie. 267 The buckskin Detective, 279 Old Winch} or, The Buckskin Desperadoes. 294 Dynamite Dan; or, The Bowle Blade of Gochetopa. 802 The Mountain Detective; or, The Trigger Bar Bully. 816 Old Eclipse, Trump Card of Arizona, 826 The Ten Parda; or, The Terror ot Take-Notice. 886 Bie Benson; or, The Queen of the Lasso. 845 Pitiless Matt; or, Ked Thunderholt’s Secret, 856 Cool Sam and Par’; or The Terrible Six. 866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. 886 Captain Cutlas«; or, he Br ccaneer’s Girl Foe, 896 Rough Rob; or, The Twin Champions of Blue 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 Pigeon, 461 One Against Fifty; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar. Rewoeceaneen SACRA O Reise dankeadabededon’ Sas ve (470 The Boy Shadow ; or, Felix Fox’s Hunt, AT? The Exceisio® Sport; or, The Washington Spotter. 499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. 502 Branded Ben, the Night ferret.] 512 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective, 521 Dodger Dick’s Best Dodge. 528 Pox and Faicon, the Bowery Shadows, 588 Dodger Dick, the Dock Ferret. 548 Dodger Dick’s Double; or, The Rival Boy Detectives 558 Dodecr Dick’« Desperate Case. 568 Dodger Dick. the Boy Vidocq, 578 The Two Shadows. 582 Dodger Dick’s Drop. 594 Little Lon, the Street-Singer Detective. 610 Old Skinner, the Gold Shark; or, Tony Sharp on Guard. 626 The Champion Pards. 687 Dick Doan, the Dock Boy Detective. 645 Kit, the Pavement Sharp. 658 Billy Bantam, the Boy Beagle, 671 Jersey Jed, the Boy Hustler; or, Shadowing the Shadower: 685 Happy Hugh, the Boy. Musician Detective. 701 Photograph Fred, the Camera Sharp. LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. 718 Carl, the Mad Cowboy; or, The Lariat Queen. By Co Prenzies Ingraham. 714 Old Misery, the Man from Missouri; or, The Mystery of $1 Mountain League. By Wm. G. Patten, T15 Wide Awake Len, the Quaker City Ferret; or, Caging tt Cormorants, By T. C. Harbaugh. 716 Rendwoed Pick, Jr.t«, Still Wunts or, The Secon Round in San Francisco, By Edward L. Wheeler. 217 Mosquito Jnck, the Hustler Gamin; or, Move-on Mike Grand Catch, By Jo Pierce, 718 Light-HMeart Lute’« Last Trafl; or, The Gold Crater Secret. Dy Joseph E. Badger, Jr. j 719 Pawnee Bill's Pledges ot, The Cowboy Kidnapper, B Cul. Prentiss Ingraham. ‘ Full Hand; or, The Gamin Dete 720 Broadway Billy By -. C. Cowdrick, tive’s Double Snap at Santa Fe. Lg , tk Mose, the Arizona Detec‘ive; or, The Wizard aedy | dyno By Will Lisenbee, Ready May 19. geet fick, Jr.’*, Dominoes: or, The Rival Cam i Deshvoeet tater By Edward L. Wheeler, ] Ready May 26. blade, the Shoshone; or, The Border Beagle ye See Merion.” By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. t Ready June 2d. A New Issue Every Tuesday. The Half- Dime Library is for ante by all newsdealers, fy cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 Wiillam Street, New Yor!