Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 63) (1878 10 08)
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: 7 ‘ = | i | F oe Number. erhood; THE TWELVE AVENGERS. BY W. J. HAMILTON. In the South Sea there is a singular serpent known as the “Red Dukite,” a serpent which seems gifted with the power of reason. A long, slender, red body of singular beauty, with dia- mond eyes and pointed head, and as venomous as the Cobra di Capello. The legend—however true it may be—is that this snake gocs always in company with a companion, and if one is killed and the other is not found and dispatched also, the slayer is doomed. Wherever he goes the ‘‘Red Dukite” glides on silently, waiting Mas eee f for the time when he can strike his poisoned fangs into the flesh of the man who has dared to slay hiscompanion. The Du- kite makes no mistake, and the Indian is not a more tire- less or efficient scout than he. That trail and that trail alone he follows through the silent night or thesultry day, and when the tired man sinks to rest it is only to feel the envenomed fangs buried in his flesh and then too late he knows that the ‘‘ Red Dukite” has avenged his ‘* friend.” If business presses and the slayer sleep- less nights, still the Dukite is ever near, waiting, waiting, relentless as death, silent as the tomb. This is the history of the terrible Dukite, the red scourge of the South Sea. A ship lies at anchor be- fore Francisco, one of those great packets that ply between Australia and the American coast. Upon the deck looking out toward the reat city, the Queen of the Vest, is a group of persons of whom this story treats. Three men, one in the prime of manhood, tall and sinewy, and two young men, in whose faces you can see the features of the elder person. They are brothers, and the elder man’s sons. A fourth individual of the group, and et not with it, standing a lit- le apart in a half-respectful, half-careless manner peculiar to the old family servant. It is an Irish face, full of rol- licking good humor, the type of that nation at once the most impudent and yet most successful—out of their own en isle—of any the world ows. In love, war and politics—happy Pat reigns - “supreme, © ladies are with the WSRRANES —___. NM i WY \ QQ ii ON WI NY K . ZW “ i a a a a a a a a sk a i a a a a Pt | Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, Zz x M. OBBR— Fo Haws NW > | |e tn. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, Price, 5 Cents. ; No. 63. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. party, one a stately woman, the wife of the el- der gentleman, the other her daughter, a beau- tiful girl of eighteen. Mabel Delisle was beau- tiful with the beauty of face, form and soul. Her sunny brown hair, fair complexion, blue eyes and cherry lips; her form, graceful as the swaying reed; her disposition—all combined to make her that noblest of all God’s creatures, a pure and lovely woman. **So, good-by forever to the South Seas and the dangers we have escaped,” said Oscar De- lisle, as he looked toward the shore. ‘‘ There lies the land where vengeance can never reach us.” ** Would that you had never invoked it, Oscar,” said Mr. Delisle. ‘‘ We have escaped, it is true, but think what might have happened if we had been compelled to remain in the South Seas.” A sneering smile passed over the face of Os- car Delisle, and he uttered a low laugh. ‘*How our enemy will howl when he knows THE AMBUSH. that we have eluded him after all the toils he set. The Red Dukite has failed in his vengeance once, and I—the man he hated—have done the werk.” “He is a terrible being, 2nd a man of rare ability, Oscar. We have done well to escape | him, and in this land we have a refuge where | the vengeance of the Red Dukite can never come. What do you say, Walter?” Walter Delisle was leaning over the rail, look- ing steadily toward the land with a look of doubt and trouble in his face. | “Father,” replied the young man, turning his face toward the speaker, “I am sorry to say that I do not share your opinion in regard to our safety.” 4 “ Why?” ‘* Because, when we escaped from the island, Oscar was foolish enough to send a message to the Red Dukite, telling him he would meet him in Melbourne.” ‘‘Did you do that, Oscar?’ cried Mr. Delisle, turning a wild look upon the proud eae of his eldest son. ‘Could you have been so mad—you—who brought this trouble on us?” “T would not fer the chance of a life of trouble, lose the oppertunity to defy ourenemy. He had driven me mad by his persecutions, and it would have broken my heart if I could not an- swer his insults in some way.” “Tf the avenger is on our track, who is to be blame:! if not you, Oscar? You have brought us into danger and add to it when we have thrown our pursuer off the track. You have much to answer for, Oscar Delisc. But we must not hesitate, and as for staying in San Francisco for twenty-four hours, I shall not do it.” “We must stop in Sen Francisco,” was Oscar’s ©?!- gry retort. ‘ You promised me to go into business here, and you must keep your word.” ‘We have suffered enough from your folly and price,” replied Mr. Delisle. “We were delayed four days at Melbourne; how do you know that the avenger is not al- ready on our track?” “Let him come if he dares!” hissed the young man. “I will give a good account of him when I[ meet him any- where.” “You were not so eager to meet him in the islands, Os- car,” said Walter, in his qué et way. “If ithad not been for me upon two occasions you would have felt the weight of the Red Dukite’s vengeance.” za ter! Because you were fortunate enough, by a series of lucky accidents, to obtain a momentary advan-
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> kd Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. tac over our enemy you presume upon it to de- mean me,” “ Walter is no boaster, Oscar,” was Mabel’s quiet reminder. ‘Bah; you always take his part.” ‘** Whatever folly Imay be capable of, Oscar Delisle, I will not be guilty of this one longer. If any of his envoys should be upon the ship how you would betray yourself. Three times have you spoken that.terrible name, which you oughé never to utter, and which would be a sure ang to those who hate us. Let us land and ose ourselves in the great city where we can male up our plans.” “*T say—stay in San Francisco,” “ We cannot decide that now; here, Pat.” “All right, Masther Wallie; phat’ll I do for ees? “Get out our baggage, as we propose to land atonce. Send it up to the Lick House.” * Lick—is it? Sure an’ that’s a foine name, alanah. A beauty ava name, bedad, an’ it’s mesilf; Patsey O’Rafferty, County Connaught, 88th Connaught Rangers, w’u’d do phat yees order me. Lick indade! Phoo! Phat a name.” Patsey busied himself in getting out the bag- ge, which was sent on shore, and the part anded soon after. Patsey reached the ‘ Lick House” before the others, and when he met them in the vestibule he placed a folded paper in the hands of Oscar. ** A jintleman bid me give it yees, masther.” Oscar opened the paper slowly and the mo- ment his eyes rested on the inclosure he uttered acry of alarm and reeled back, pale as death. Upon the paper was an exact representation of the Red Dukite in the attitude of striking. The pursuer was on the track. CHAPTER I. THE SERPENT SYMBOL. Tue “hotel” in a Californian “city” at the base of the foothills, ‘‘City” is a term vari- ously applied in the West. It may mean San Francisco or Sacramento, or it may mean a cluster of rude shanties nestling down beside some gold stream or quartz ledge. If the latter, the busy quartz mill is at work, the great crush- ors dropping with stunning force upon the white rock, grinding it to powder, while in the other arts of the mill science was extracting from Prat mass of white dust its virgin gold. Tampa City occupied a middle rank between the great ocean cities and the last named. It had its quartz mills to be sure, but it had also its daily paper, fire department and the other machinery of municipal government. It was just now a busy town, for a new ledge had been ‘‘devel- oped” and it was in the flush times when every one was crazy about stocks, and money was free as air. Walter Delisle was seated on the wide veran- da of the “ hotel,” smoking a cheroot which had found its way from ila to San Francisco, and then to his hands. The young man was in a brown study, and in the midst of it he was touched on the shoulder by a lad wearing the picturesque dress of Mexico. ‘** Senor,” he said, ‘‘ my master wishes to speak to you.” “ Ah,” said Walter, starting to his feet. ‘Where is your master?” “Do not disturb yourself, senor,” said a quiet, melodious voice at his elbow. ‘I am in despair at troubling you, but Lhave alittle business with you which must be attended to.” The young man looked up and saw a fine, stately-looking Californian of noble presence, dressed in the rich garb of the Mexican Hidalgo who has riches to back him. He was not young— perhaps fifty years of age—and the expression of his face was at once noble and pleasing. “You are called Walter Delisle?’ he said, in a questioning tone. : “ How did you know my name, sir?” “T shall explain that presently, but this is neither the time nor place for doing so. Look in my face and tell me whether you will trust yourself to my honor if I ask you to ride with me to my ranch to the south of the foothills.” ‘* Your business is important?” ‘* Life or death!” replied the Californian. ‘**T am at your service.” ‘“‘ Hola, Juan!” cried the gentleman. “A horse for the Senor Delisle; he rides with me.” The boy ran up with a magnificent ‘‘ Ameri- can” horse—an animal much valued on the Pacific slope. Walter was about to ren § into the saddle when he thought that he ought to leave some word at the hotel, for he expected the family soon. ‘« Juan will stay,” said the Californian. ‘He isa sharp boy, small as he is, and will do your bidding. If any of the senor’s friends must see / him, Juan, you know where to find him.” The boy nodded gravely and took a seat on the veranda ready in case any of the friends of Delisle made their appearance, and the two gen- tlemén rode away among the foothills, each en- gaged in the study of the other. From the ex- pression of both faces it was plain that the im- ression was mutually agreeable; each was sat- isfied that the other was a nobleman. ‘**You are but young, Senor Delisle,” said the Californian, as they rode along through the breezy foothills, “Might I, without giving offense, ask your age?” ‘Twenty-five last May,’ replied Delisle, promptly. ‘‘ Young enough to lack experience and to rely upon older men for the owledge which years of experience must bh» ve impart- The Californian bowed and looked pleased, for he had come of a race in which the young deferred to the experience of age—a quality very rare in this fast century when too many of the young look upon their elders as “oid fogies.” ** T have not intruded upon you without a pur- pose, my young friend,’ a | the Californian. ‘*In the land from which you have come did you not make deadly enemies?” “ Yes.” ‘““May Lask from whence you came?” “From the South Sea islands, where my father was a trader.” 8 Can you tell me more or do you fear to trust me ‘I never do anything by halves, and I claim the ability to read the human face, You, senor, with whose name even I am not acquainted, would be cut into inch pieces sooner than divulge that which has been imparted to you under the seal of confidence, and your word of honor not to reveal it until I give you leave.” “You have my word. We are now upon my ranch, and in this open plain no one can ap- yroach without our knowledge. Shall we alight ere to allow you to tell your story?” The two descended, picketed their horses and sat down ona mossy knoll, side by side. ‘* In the islands of the Australian group, where we were located for a few years, my brother— who is of rather a quick temper—became em- broiled with a man who had the command of a society known as the ‘ Red Dukites.’ The Du- kite is aserpent of the South Seas, and from the strange persistency with which these serpents follow the trail of a man who has killed one of their kind, this society took its name. They were a sort of secret brotherhood, with laws un- like those of any other secret organization in the world, the fundamental i ty e of which is the avenging of a brother’s blood. “These Dukites hated us, as they hated all outsiders; and, singular as it may seem, the leader of this strange society was a white man, and many others of the order were of the same race. My brother, meeting with two of these men while engaged in collecting sandalwood, had some hot words with them, and was threat- ened by them with dangers which he could not avert. It passed off for that time, but meeting one of the men again, in the village, they hac a sti le, and my brother shot the Dukite through the heart. It was said, although I was not a witness to the struggle, that there was something unfair on my brother’s part. It is said that the members of the Dukite society, like | their serpent prototype, always go in company —a single companion always being at some point near at hand, on the watch. This was the case in the present instance. The man slain was the second oflicer of the society, and the one on the watch was his ‘double’—also a white man, whose face I have never seen, but who has made himself our deadly enemy from that hour.” **Go on.” “The first warning we had was the day after the death of the Dukite. A paper was_ pinned upon our door, bearing a picture of the Red Du- kite, with erected head ready to strike, and a few words inthe native language warning us to be prepared for death, for the Dukites were on the trail, and we were doomed. Two days after, my brother, passing through a thicket of cane, was set upon by two masked men armed with long knives. He had a pistol, but they closed with him before he could fire it, and car- ried him away, after binding his arms. It was their intention to take him to their place of meeting in the mountains, and there sacrifice him to appease the manes of the man he had slain. By great good fortune, I met them on the other side of the canes, and as one of the men lifted his knife to plunge it into Oscar’s heart, I broke for his arm by a well-directed shot. The two men plunged into the canes and escaped. ‘** A second time they seized my brother upon | the sea-shore, whence they hurried him into a boat and put out to sea. This time he would certainly have been doomed, but I was coming into the lagoon, the same day, with a cargo of goods from Melbourne, where I had been to trade. In the darkness of the night we struck the boat, cutting her in two, and leaving them | floating on the surface. We got out our lan- terns, and found my brother clinging toa broken fragment of the wrecked craft, but not another man was to be found. They swim like ducks, and had reached the shore. “My sister was the next attacked, and I man- aged to rescue her just in time. It was plain that we could not remain on the islands, and one night we placed our valuables on our little sloop and embarked. But my ‘brother foolishly sent a defiance to the Dukite whom he most hated, which told him where we had gone. We were in Melbourne nearly a week longer than we expected, and the Dukite had taken ad- vantage of the time lost to trail us. And, senor, when we entered the Lick House from the packet, my servant placed in Oscar’s hands a parchment upon which was printed in red ink the sign of the Dukites—the threatening serpent. ready to strike. We know that our enemy is on the trail.” “Hush,” said the Californian. ‘‘ Here comes a stranger, and we must wait until he passes be- fore I can tell you why I came to you.” A stockman’s hut obstructed the view at a distance of half a mile, and a horseman was 7 egg 3 rapidly down the road toward them. As he came nearer, it was plain that he was admirably mounted, for his horse covered the ground in gallant style. It was an Ameri- can horse, seventeen hands high, with splendid action—the model of a trotter. The stranger was of powerful frame, sin ly handsome, and wearing the peculiar drooping mustache generally worn by high-caste Brahmins. At the first glance, a looker-on would have taken him for a Hindoo, but a closer look revealed the fact that the olive brown of his complexion was the work of the sun, and not of nature. As he reined in his horse before the pair seated on the way. “T crave your pardon, gentlemen,” he said; a but may ft ask ¥ I am on the road to Tampa ity? e spoke English well, but in a slow way, which was either the result of habit, or from the fact that he had not used the language much of late, notably the fact when an English- man gives up the use of his native tongue in or- dinary conversation for long years. “You are in the way, senor,” replied the Californian, politely. ‘I give you good-day.” ‘The same to you, senor,” replied the stran- ger whose dark eyes seemed to scan the face of elisle with intense earnestness. ‘Is it far to the city?’ ‘* Perhaps five miles.” The man thanked them and rode on rapidly while Walter looked after him with a doubtful expression not unmixed with fear. What was there in the sight of this man’s handsome face and his melodious voice to arouse such strange thoughts inhim? Why did his mind go back at once to the island-studded lagoons of the South Sea, the lofty trees and the spice-laden breezes of the tropics. _ “T have seen that man before,” he muttered, ‘“‘but where it was I can not tell. In South America, Panama, Melkhourne—where? Con- found the luck if I can place him, and I would | give a thousand dollars to be certain of my man.” “There comes another,” said the Californian, “and Santa Maria! He is as like the other as one bullet from my rifle is like its fellow.” It was true! The man who now advanced was mounted on a fine American horse, wore the drooping mustache, and had the saine olive. brown complexion as the man who preceded him. He, too, pulled up and asked the way to Tampa City, and his voice could hardly be dis- tinguished from that of the first stranger. As before, his gaze rested longest upon Delisle, and the same glitter came into his eyes, Then he rode on and the two men looked at each other in wonder. wee : “There is something in this deeper than you imagine, Senor Delisle,” said the Californian. “You have made me your confidant, and now I will return the favor as far asI can. Do you remember a young Mexican on board the packet who became quite intimate with your party un- der the name of Estevan Cordova! ‘i knoll, he looked at them in a quick, searching |
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; 4 ) “Certainly,” replied the young man, his face lighting up with delight. ‘A really fine young gentleman.” . oaT ba ‘“‘Thanks; you honor me in saying it, for Es- tevan isa son of whomlam proud. Yesterday I received a letter from him sent by a special messenger. He told me that he had made your acquainsance on the packet and that you had honored him with your triendship. Atter you had left San Francisco he discovered the follow- ing facts: ‘You have been followed from the South Sea Islands by these men who hate you. They were on the same steamer with you when you left Melbourne, twelve in number. These twelve men have money in abundance, and have sworn to their comrades that they will never return to them until they have avenged, in person of your brother and his family, the murder of their officer. The arrangement of their plan he can not tell you, except this: you are the first victim and your brother the last.” ‘* Why am I the first?” ‘** Because they fear og most. They say that you are active and bold, and that until you are destroyed there can be no safety for them in carrying out their plans.. Not that they hate you as much as they do your brother.” : “Then Oscar and the family are safe until I am under the sod? Sobeit. lL accept the page thrown down by my secret foes who have driven me to the wall. I will live—I will pit myself against the twelve who have banded themselves against me and I will beat them if my life is spared.” ‘Brave young man! Do you then offer your- self as a sacrifice to save those you love? Then I give you my word that the power I have in this country s be used to assist you. But, when do you expect your father and his family?” ¥ They may come at any moment.” ‘‘Then they are in danger from this hour and we must work, Ha; what is that?’ Something white came fluttering through the air and fell at their feet. It was a long arrow with a —_ impaled upon the shaft which Senor Cor oval detached and held up. And there, imprinted in full upon the sheet, was the serpent symbol of the d Dukites, and underneath these words in the language of the South Seas: ‘‘The Dukites are silent and know how to be patient. When the time comes, they_strike; when they strike, the blow is sure. You in our pride of youth have laughed at the Du- Lites’ arm. Guard your breast, if you can, for soon the doom shall cover you like a pall. Be- ware the sting of the serpent!” CHAPTER IL SHOWING THEIR HAND. Tne new friends looked in each other’s faces in dismay for they had scarcely expected the blow to fall so soon. But Walter Delisle was not the man to remain long inactive, and he sprung to his feet suddenly. “If the Dukite has a sting, at least I know the antidote. Senor, there is ger in the very air we breathe, and I was not wrong in saying that my brother would yet destroy our family. When I think that his thrice-accursed folly has brought this evil upon us, I am almost tempted to forget that he is my brother; but I cannot do that.” “T fear that there is little brotherly love be- tween you,” said Senor Cordoval. ** You are right, senor; and yet I would have loved him but he would not permit it. I have no other brother, and if he would give back my affection 1 should be glad; but he is cold and proud in his self-conceit, and we can never love each other much. What shall we do, now that we know that the enemy is on our trail?” “T do not know whether it is safe to move, even now,” replied the Californian. ‘ You are armed?” rs Delisle showed a pair of elegant pistols and a long knife. “Good at close ; grogromy Fg you must learn to carry a rifle and to use It. “T have little to learn in that respect,” said Walter, quietly. “You py our western marksmen, I think,” was the reply. UT have no doubt Tod can shoot well, but can you drive a nail at a hundred yards, or crease a mustang on the jump? Until you can do this— until you can hit the eye of an Indian in the c= of the camp-fire, you cannot equal our men. ut come, we must be on the way. He swung himself quickly into the saddle, and bursting suddenly h a thicket on the The Red Brotherhood. 3 right, he rode away across the plain toward the | white-walled ratich, which now could be seen, | three or four miles away. People in the East have no real conception of the extent of these great stock-ranches in the West, where a man has a long ride to reach theend of his own land, and Senor Cordovai was one of the largest land- owners in the State. ‘hey passed corrals filled with great beeves ready 10 Le shipped to mar- ket; other corrals in which hundreds of horses bounded to and fro, shaking their tangled manes and neighing wildly, as the horsemen went by. They were still a mile from the hacienda, when they heard a clear halloa, and a horse came through a mezquit hedge on the right, bearing | on his back a young girl wearing a rich costume of the Mexican maiden of high rank. She rode “en Amazon,” curbing her powerful mustang as she saw the two gentlemen, She was a rare beauty, this child of the West. Dark, flowing locks rolled almost to her saddle; her dark eyes were seas of liquid fire; her sweet | face was full of enthusiasm, and her graceful | form swayed to the motion of her horse. The | scarlet magua which she wore set off her graces to advantage. Beneath this, she wore ‘a silken vest of blue over a skirt of the same color, and dainty Turkish trowsers, fastened at the ankle, could not entirely conceal the symmetry of her limbs. Natty little boots, armed with the spur which Mexicans are too fond of using, were set into her stirrups, and the hand which grasped | the rein so firmly was small and shapely. ** Hola, senores !” with a merry laugh. “ Aqui esta un par muy fino!” (Here is a very fine | pair.)‘‘ Why do you leave me alone at the ha- cienda, when you know that I cannot endure solitude?” “You must excuse me this time, my daugh- ter,” replied Senor Cordoval, fondly, ‘‘ for I have business at Tampa. Senor Delisle, you see my daughter, of whom her brother must have spok- en to you, for her name is ever on his lips. Zo- raya, this is Senor Walter Delisle, of whom Es- tevan spoke when he wrote last.” The senora put out a a little hand with a royal grace, and it sunk like a feather into the P m of the young man, who held it fully as ong as etiquette would allow. “Tam delighted to meet the sister of Don Es- | tevan, senora. I assure you that he sung your | praises from morning till night, and my own sister is wild to know you.” ““Why did you not bring her with you?” cried Zoraya, impulsively. ‘Ah, to have a friend, | one of my own age, who would take delight in my ee ty ee would be happiness indeed!” ‘It will not be long béfore she will be here, as | I expect them at Tampa every hour. When | they come—” “They shall not stay at Tampa!” cried Zo- | raya. ‘Father, assure Senor Delisle that all will be welcome at the Hacienda de Cordoval.” “It is not necessary for me to say that they will be welcome,” answered her father. ‘ And, indeed, I think she is right, for more reasons than one, and for the present there is no place sd safe as my house. I have a hundred men in my employ, and at least thirty of them are Americans, for, when it comes to fighting, I have but little faith in my own countrymen, and the Indians have taken pleasure in driving my cat- tle the wrong way, many times, until my American braves persuaded them to stop. But we waste time here, and you must be hungry, after fasting so long. Let us go to the hacien- da, at once.” Walter was ready to agree to anything which would keep him at the side of Senora Zoraya, and they rode away at a foot-pace, the young | man listening with eager attention to the sparks of humor which fell from her tongue, for Seno- ra Zoraya loved to talk! But, that isnot singu- lar; few women differ from her in that respect. | The ride to the hacienda was all too short, and | they rode into a spacious courtyard, surrounded | by adobe walls—a court which had stood for | generations—for the family was one of the old- est in Upper California, ‘‘ Welcome to the home of my fathers, senor!” | said the owner, quietly and gravely. “T am | one of the few among my countrymen who | have had the wit to see that the so-called con- quest of California was the best thing that ever happened to us. in oe ey passed into the spacious room, furnished in luxurious style, for the Californian was rich enough to command any | he wished. They seated themselves, and while the elder gentleman touched a bell and ordered dinner, Zoraya took up a guitar and sung to that pleas- ing peng rege the ancient war-songs of the Cid, and Walter was really annoyed when din- ner was announced. The meal was of the rich- | your men and sweep | descended from est description, and when it was over, the gen- tlemen adjourned to the azotea for a siesta and cigars. oraya would have accompanied them, but:at a sign from her father, much to the chagrin of Walter, she remained behind. From the azotes. they looked out upon the broad plain stretching along the base of the foot-hills, and beyond tie tiue peaks of the Sierras rising against the sum mer sky. They had scarcely reached the roof when Senor Cordoval touched his companion on the arm and pointed to the South, in the direc- tion of Tampa City. ‘Look there!” Two men Were meeting in the midst of the plain, about five miles distant. Butin that clear atmosphere objects are seen more distinctly than | in other ‘yeni 8 and even at that distance, Wal- ter could make out the two persons that bad passed them on the plain. To make sure, he took up a glass which lay up- on the parapet and leveled it at the pair, and their faces were brought into view with a precision which was startling. “Magnificent glass, this,” said Walter, as he glued his eye to the tube. “Yes, senor, you are right; those are the very fellows who passed us and they seem to be hail-fellows-well-met, too. They are making signals now.” As he spoke other men appeared from every direction, until twelve were grouped on the plain in close conference. By the aid of the lass Walter was able to make out the fact that hey were dressed exactly alike and had the same cut of beard as the first two. Twelve men! Twelve of the Red Dukites had been deputed to hunt him down, chosen doubt- less for their vigor and skill. He knew well that such a striking similarity of face was not natural, and there was something here which he could not understand, but of one thing he was sure: the mystic band were before him! “Oh, if we had soy an excuse to call out hose murderous scoun- drels from the face of the earth!” he said. “TI am sure they are my enemies, but how can I prove it?” “Time works. wonders,” quietly responded Senor Cordoval. ‘I will put a scout upon their | trail at once,” He stooped over the apet and whist and a man who was making a lazo in the co | below looked up. “Come up here, Pedro.” The man laid down his lazo and ascended te the azotea. He proved to bea native Califor- nian with a sallow face, sharp and cunning. “You "2 Hose men, ay aia said his master, pointing e party on the plain. ‘‘ Take the glass and look at them.” . The man Stace and studied the party for five minutes. en he returned the glass to Walter. ‘You will know them when you see them again, Pedro?” you will earn fifty dollars: if you do it ill—you knot what will happen then.” The man al. eg his shoulders and rapidly e roof and soon after they saw him leave the hacienda, admirably mount- _ed, and ride away, making a great circle so as not to appear to have come from that direction. | For half an hour the twelve remained in con- sultation and then Pedro rode out of a thicket and passed them quietly, without seeming te look at them. “That fellow is a 1 scout,” remarked the senor. “T have tried him in many ways and have not found him wanting. Ha; they are stopping him.” hey saw Pedro halt and turn back and en- ter into conversation with the strangers. The conference was not of long duration and they separated, the twelve riding off toward the mountain-passes and Pedro keeping on his way.' But, searching the ground carefully, Delisle saw him riding along the rocky bottom of a crevasse, keeping a course el with that | taken by the band. All were lost to view be- hind the foothills and Walter laid the glass down. “T fear that your scout, brave as he is, will be no match for the Dukites,” said he. “I tell you, sir, that the be of India are not their match in subtlety, and that wonderful race can _not shed blood more coolly than they. You brush a fly from your face and kill it without thought; the Dukite brushes a man from his path as coolly and feels the crime as little. They are wonderful men and I have a great work to de to cope with them all.” eed
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wewules clali-vime Liprary. ws “Ts it not pe ay 29 that they showed them- selves to us so plainly?” : ; “They have some object in that, sir. When you see them again they will be as unlike what you have seen as possible, for they have'ways of changing their fin ern of which you and I know nothing. However, as they are gone I think it will be safe to go to Tampa City.” “We will go with a party and if your family jhave come we will have them up here at once. Hola, John Dean! Get nine of your fellows and epee to ride with me to Tampa.” e one addressed—a muscular, wiry man of middle age, who was crossing the court-yard— looked up at the summons. It was the sort of face which you or I would like to see at our side in the tug of battle, strong, bold, self-reli- ant—the type of men who make the name of trapper and scout a terror to their savage ene- mies. “All right, senor; any chance of amuss? I’m lit’rally sp’ilin’ fur a fight of some kind, an’I don’t keer a dern whoit ar with. I ain’t snuff- ed out an Injun in—Lord love your heart— when did I raise any ha’r? It’s a week, sartin.”’ “Get the men, John,” replied the senor, laughing. ‘‘ You may have a chance if you are eareful of your opportunities.” * Anybody—a Chinaman, a Digger—I dunno but I'd even fight a Piute, I sw’ar. The man disappeared and in a remarkably short time a party of ten servitors—all of them desperate Indian-fighters—were gathered in the court below. They were armed with rifles, hatchets and long bowies. Revolvers had not yet come into general use and the Western man as a rule despised the pistol asa weapon. The senor and his companion descended and they rode away, the men laughing and jesting at the ab td of a §ght. “Tm a man that likes my employer,” said John Dean; ‘‘ but one thing he must do—he’s got to give me a chance fur a fight now an’ then er I spile. Whar’ ar’ we bound, senor?” ‘““We are going to Tampa.” * Waal, one thing we kin do, boys. You re- member them plugs down to the mill laughed at us an’ said we war sarvints. I reckon we’ll hev to lick them, anyhow.” “Bet yer life, old hoss,” responded the men. ‘* We'll make up a little party, somehow.” ‘*Oh, them chaps are willin’, ther the willin’- est lot I ever knowed in all my life, but we kin chaw ’em any day in the week—now you hear me. Whar’s Pedro, senor? he’s the only Greaser I ever knowed that c’u’d scout, an’ he’s a hull mule team on that, Pedro is.” “Tye sent him on a scout, and no doubt he will meet us at ae 4 “You orter hev let me go with him, senor. Pedro is good on the scout, but he kain’t fight fur shucks; he’s too cussed light, he is. What's gy gel ding through a pe der th They were ridin ugh a pass under the shelter of an ramen bes ing cliff. There was a rustling sound overhead, and the next moment, to their horror, a human body came whirling through the air, and struck the earth at their feet with a dull thud, the face turned up to the sky. At a glance they recognized Pedro, the Mexican scout. A long knife was driven to the hilt in his heart, pinning a paper to his breast, upon which Walter saw the fatal sign of the Dukites, the threatening serpent! ‘*You send your spies on the trail of the Dukites,” cried a resounding voice. This is the beginning of vengeance; the worst is yet to come.’ The men flung themselves from their saddles and scaled the cliff, but when they reached the summit, no man was to be seen. The mark of the Red Dukite was set upon the first victim! s CHAPTER III. JACK DEAN’S VISITOR. Jack DEAN the stockman came down from the cliff with a dark scowl bee his hard face. In his rough way he had loved the Mexican be- cause he was a man after his owm heart—one who loved to take a trail and follow it to the end. An American upon the Pacific coast has little liking for a ‘‘ Greaser,” but in this case the attachment was deep and binding. Together they had trailed the Klamath, the Shasta and the Modoc in their mountain homes; and fight- | ing ander the shadow of so brave a man as Jack | Dean. Pedro had been brave enough. . Now he lay dead, the long thin strip of steel planted in his heart, and the flaming serpent, with its erected head, pinned bs oa his bosom. “T heard him, the low cuss!’ muttered the stockman. ‘ Red Dukites they call themselves eh? Does any man here know what that word ' cz3ans?” ' stood next to him. | sengers began to alight. “T can explain it,” said Walter, who knew the wisdom of having such men as the stockman and his friends upon his side; and in as few words as possible he told why he had left the South Sea, and explained the working of the Dukites. “ Adzack’ly!” said Jack as he drew the blade from the bosom of the Mexican. ‘ HereIsw’ar that this blood shall never be wiped from the blade until the last of the twelve Dukites has gone under. Then it shall be buried, planted to the hilt in his heart.” ““We foller suit, Jack,” added the man who ‘* What do you say, Sandy?” “ Hoot awa’, child!” replied the man address- ed—a genuine Scotchman with the red hair, powerful frame and ‘canny’ ways of his race. ‘*Dinna fash yersel’ aboot me. Gin I leave Johnny Dean na doot I’m na better than a deed man. I’m wi’ ye, soul an’ Mac The rest clasped hands in silence; they needed no word to their faith. ‘Then we are eleven and will match ourselves against the Dukites. For, when such brave men take up my S hegiabrr itis but just that I should cast in my lot with theirs,” cried Wal- ter. ‘‘He’s a brave child!” spoke out Sandy Mc- Gregor, ‘‘an’ na doot he’ll mek a gallant fight | against these dour deevils we maun fight wi’. I mind weel the day the last of the clan McCal- lum an’ McGregor met, there was wigs on the heather that day. ‘ Blaw up yer chaunter, Sandy, an’ gi’e thema taste of the ‘‘ Raut,” ‘says the bonny chieftain. An’ the pipes ne’er sound- ed so weel as they sounded that day, an’ the wail rose inthe McCallum cabins when the fight | | was dune. \ Wae’s me, the gude auld days lang syne!’ : ‘Hold your pipes, Scotchy!” cried Jack Dean. “Mr. Delisle, you are our leader, mind, an’ what you say we’lldo. Shall we try to follow them now?” ‘Better not, I think. I must get my father and family safe to the hacienda first. ‘‘T’ll take Pedro across the saddle and carry him. Poor lad; ’twas an unlucky day for him when you sent him out, senor. I was crazy fur a muss not an hour ago, and now—it’s no use talkin’. Help me to lift him, Sandy.” The two raised the dead form of Pedro, and laid it on the horse and the y rode on. About a mile from Tampa they met one of the carts going to the hacienda, and the body was placed upon some straw and sent home. The Peck dashed into the open space in front of the otel, where they were greeted with derisive the mill-men, who, for some reason, were ‘‘ down” on the stockmen of Senor Cordo- val. Jack Dean, for a wonder, paid no atten- tion to these demonstrations, although at any other time he would have been ripe and ready for a fray. “Tkain’t afford to fit rubbed out now, »oys,” he said, quietly. ‘‘Take it easy; one of these days you'll sup on cold lead for this, but jest now I kain’t throw away a chaince. Only don’t cheers b pile it on too thick or we mout forgit our- |. selves.” “‘That’s the first time you ever took water, Jack Dean,” said a burly mill-man who was seated on the rail of the veranda, ‘‘ and with nine good boys at yer back it looks odd.” ‘Dave Carroll,” answered Dean, ‘let me say a word to you. boys hev got some work to do that they must ’tend to, an’ they kain’t fight until it’s done. One of our boys hez bin mur- dered, an’ we ar’ bound to hunt down the man that did it.” “You don’t lay it to any of my crowd?” said Carroll, knitting his brows. “Not a bit; we know who did it, an’ it ain’t any man you know, so don’t git huffy on that. When we started out to-day we was fixed for a fight with you, but this throwed us off the track.” “‘ Nuff sed,” cried Carroll. ‘‘ Boys, cheese that now; the one that picks on Jack Dean’s crowd has got to fight me. It don’t interfere with business when you hunt your man down, Jack?” “In course not; I'll give the word when the work is done.” From that moment these rough men fraterniz- ed with the understanding that, at some future day, heads should be broken in a friendly way over the business. While this was going on the great lumbering stage drawn by six horses came into the plaza” at a galop, and the pas- Mr. Delisle and Oscar were on the box and Don Estevan Cordoval, a | handsome young man, richly dressed, handed out Mabel and Mrs. Delisle. ever the wheel, grinning widely as he recog- teen bis young master advancing through the crow The arrival of the mail coach in a frontier town is an event, and the plaza was crowded. _ The driver, with the air of a man in authority, issued his orders to the hostlers with native _ grace, interlarding his remarks with a choice | selection of American oaths. For the “native American” is gifted with a genius for profan- ity, deny it ye who will. Senor Cordoval was introduced to the family, and at once invited them to visit his hacienda, thing has occurred which makes it necessary.” ‘Some more of your foolish fears,” said Os- car. ‘I should be sorry to think you a coward, Walter Delisle.” ‘You at least have little cause to say so, Os- car,” was the reply. ‘‘ Run your eye over that paper which I received to-day, and then tell ro if you still think I have not any cause for ear. He placed in his brother’s hand the paper. which fallen at his feet, pierced by the ar- row, and even Oscar started and turned livid as he recognized the fatal sign. ‘Those fellows m have the aid of the Evil One,” he muttered, looking at his father, to whom Walter was explaining the steps he had taken. ‘‘I did think we should be safe here, at any rate. Well, father what is decided?” *“ We go with Senor Cordoval, who has kindly Pl ced his house at our disposal,” replied Mr, elisle. ‘‘ You will understand it better when Walter has time to explain to you.” Oscar drew back, grumbling, and Estevan went away to order horses. In a few moments _ the party rode out of Tampa with five horsemen on each flank, and watching as they rode through the passes for some sign of their enemies. But the Dukites made no sign and the party rode in- to the court safe and sound, where the horses were taken in charge by men who came up at the motion of Cordoval’s finger. ‘You have a fine old place, senor,” said De- lisle, looking admiringly about him. ‘These have spent so many years literally an outcast, or rather an exile from my native land. But, mie sp it necessary to build these huge pr ‘“The Indian of the past is not the Indian of the present,” was the reply. ‘The Indians of | this region have sunk step by step until from a warlike race—the peer of the Comanches—they have dropped to their present level. In the days when these walls were built they were not too strong to resist the sudden attacks of the mountain tribes.” At this moment Zoraya, who had been wait. ing impatiently for them to come on, darted from the main entrance and threw herself into her brother’s arms, which ned at once to re- ceive her. No brother and sister ever loved more fondly than these two, and for a moment nothing was heard save the delicious sobs which joy wrung from the bosom of this sweet girl. “There, there, mio caro!” said the young man, as he removed her clinging arms; “you Pat came down | forget that I must make you known to n friends. Walter you already know, but her y ame you a lady friend—the one you have so ong sighed for—Miss Mabel Delisle. You have heard me speak of Zoraya, often enough, Miss Delisle.” ‘* So often that I already love her,” replied Ma- bel. The impulsive child at once embraced and kissed her, and the two were fast friends, Mr. and Mrs. Delisle were warmly received, but as Zoraya placed her hand in the burning palm of Oscar a shudder passed through her frame. ‘I hope that our meeting is not prophetic, my dear sir,” she said. ‘ A shudder passed through me when I touched your hand; is there any mean- ing in it?’ For him—yes; the touch of that small white hand, the flash of those speaking eyes, had done their work. Oscar Delisle loved her with ail the power of his fiery nature, and woe to any man who dared to cross his love! It was = passion at first sight—a consuming fire which would end in supreme happiness or utter misery, They entered the hacienda chatting merrily, but Os- car saw that it was by the side of Walter she | walked, and that her face lighted up whenever he spoke. “Tf he has dared!” he muttered between his set teeth. ‘If she should love him, the little | affection I have for him would turn | hate, Let him beware!” ‘Td like to speak to Captain Delisle if he has the time,” said Dean, who stcod in the doorway as they pessed through. Walter stopped at once and Mabel lauged merrily, to undying — — ‘* | think it best, father,” said Walter, “‘Some- ' historic spots have a rare ixterest for me, who |
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— — _ 5 _ “Captain Delisle? Ha, ha, ha! You have received your promotion suddenly, brother.” “You may laugh if you like, Mabel, but I am * proud of the title, for it makes me the leader of aes men. Go on, sister; [ will join youina a ell Site abs i he party passed on in e reception-room Ams al Waltenmith the stockman, ~ : ‘Now, look here, Cap,” said Dean, in a tone of expostulation; ‘‘ you must take keer of yer- self. Wimmin are the devil! I guess I orter know fur I’ve hed four wives in my time an’ every cussed one made it mighty hot fur me. nothin’ to say to ’em.” ‘*“What do you mean, Jack?’ said Walter, laughing heartily. ‘“‘ Never you mind; ef you don’t know now I ain’t going to tell you. What I want ter say is this yer:—you ar’ capt’in of our party an’ we’ve got work to do, an’ I don’t want you to 0 throwin’ away time on a pesky girl. Not ut Zorayor ar’ a buster an’ a mighty nicg little al, but she’ll draw you off the track ef you on’t take keer.” A hot flush mounted into the handsome face of Walter Delisle. This rough stockman had pois ay hae his secret at a glance and knew how eeply he was interested in the pretty little Cali- Thats, andiiaah Naish tek a x00 ‘-Thar’s another , Ca ont git m with me—but in two weeks’ time thet brother of yours will be fit to take your life out of jealousy; he will, by jinks.” “* Oscar?” “*You bet ye—Oscar. Inever see a man look at a gal as he did at Zoraya, an’ he’s got a nasty black drop of blood in his veins som’ers or other.” “Don’t be troubled about me, Jack. While those twelve men live there is no safety for any of us, and I never put my hand to the plow and look back. Tl stand by you to the end.” “Nuff s¢d,” was the reply. “I'll go to my hut now, fur I know tind keep yer word.” Jack Dean left the hacienda and rode quickly across the plain to the stock-hut where he slept. It was close to one of the main corrals, and he | dismounted, took off his saddle and bridle and let hig horse run loose, for he knew that the trained animal would not stray far from the lace and would come at his whistle. Two of four kings. afraid he keepit some cairds in his sleeve.” Jack laughed and the men drew back from the table, at which sign Mrs. Dean put on the | dishes and prepared the evening meal. They went to work in a hungry fashion, Sandy per- forming in a wonderful manner. Then the table was cleared away, Mrs. Dean began to tinkle a guitar and the men were sitting down | to cards when they heard the beat of hoofs and some one rattled on the door with a whip-stock. r n the door, carissima!” said Dean. “ Cospetto! Who can it be at this time of night?” The door swung back on its leathern hinges and the light of the lamp fell upon a tall man mounted on a long-limbed horse. He was bend- ing forward to look into the room. ‘Can I get to stay here all night, stranger?” me We t mighty cl h e've got mighty cluss quarters here, stranger,” answered Jack, rN Why don’t you go to the hacienda?” **T don’t take much stock in big bugs,” replied the man. ‘‘I can camp down any whar, ou know—the floor is good enough for me. Or if ou don’t want me in the cabin I can camp on he grass, but I’d like to toast a piece of venison at your fire.” “You ar’ welcome to what we’ve got, stran- ger,” replied Jack. ‘I kin give you a blanket on the floor.” : - “Good enough for me. I'll picket my horse out on the grass and come in.” : . Dean put the remains of their supper on a little table and when the stranger came in he sooner her invitation to partake, in the off- hand way peculiar to the prairieman. When he had finished he lighted his pipe and drew up | to the table to watch their game. was looking at him intently, could not but ad- ery _ the fatal sign of the Red A burnt child dreads the fire; don’t you hev | The cards were dealt and for a few games the stranger lost, playing rashly and risking his money on weak hands. Then the luck began to change and he won steadily, until the three friends found their funds running low. As the stranger leaned forward to take his winnings his sleeve caught upon a corner of the table and stripped the cotton shirt above his elbow before he really knew what he had done, and the keen eyes of Jack Dean saw, imprinted upon the arm, ukite! Quicker than thought a bare bowie was at the throat of the | stranger, while Sandy McGregor seized his arms and pinioned them behind him. ““T reckon you've got to the end of your rope, Mr. Dukite,” growled Jack. ‘‘Curse on your bloody heart, ’ll teach you to come into my ranch.” “Do you want to rob me?’ demanded the stranger, coolly. ‘‘I thought I had got among poor honest men.” ** And so you hev, stranger, an’I judge it ar’ company thet don’t agree with you. ‘ill you tell us what that mark on your arm means? “The mark?’ demanded the stranger. You bet!” “TI don’t know what there is in a mark on a man’s arm that you should jump on him like tigers. ““Tve been all over the world and I got that mark in the South Seas. A native put.it on my arm for me but I never supposed my life would be in danger on that account. Do you murder eve ilor you find with an anchor on his arm?” “ You ag the game down mighty fine, boss,” said Jack Dean, without lowering his weapon. ‘* What did your native call the sarpint, might I be so bold ez to ask?” ‘The Red Dukite.” “You've got the same mighty pat,” said Jack, slowly. ‘See here; I’m goin’ to take you up to the hacienda and show you to Walter De- lisle. Ef he don’t know you I reckon we'll let you loose.” “You are very kind,” replied the man. “I don’t recognize your authority in any way, but you are stronger than Iam. I will go quiet- you g | . “You promise that?” “Yes.” Sandy McGregor, obeying a sign from Jack released the arms of the stranger which he ha drawn over the back of a chair in a very awk- ward manner. The fellow rose quietly and drew down his torn sleeve which he “buttoned again. m | This done he called for his coat which was m sair handed to him by Jack Dean, who helped him to put it on, laying his bowie on the table while he did so. The other men were looking on care- lessly when they saw Jack go down under a blow which would have felled an ox, and the next moment the stranger, whirling the bowie above his head, sprung through the open door. They ran for their rifles, but when they reached the door the beat of flying hoofs, and a wild, ex- ultant shout told them that their guest had es- caped. It was nearly five minutes before Jack recovered his senses sufficiently to sit up and then it was with a swimming in his head and a deadly faintness which quickly compelled him to lie down . “T’ve been kicked by a mule,” he said, faintly— “been blowed up in asteamer, shot through the right lung, been in twenty-two airthquakes, been bucked forty feet above the back -of a Mexican plug; but such a crack as that I never experienced in all my life. It’s just awful and no mistake. Whar is he?” “The daft callant gaed awa’ like a whirl- wind,” exclaiined McGregor. ‘“ Hoot, men, but ye s’u’d ha’e seen him flee awa’ over the ss! Deed, mon, but he’s no canny, that chiel wi’ the snake.” ‘It’s only one thing more against him,” said Jack. ‘I say, Scotchy; take my horse and ride to the hacienda and warn ’em to take care. Call out Walter an’ let him know first, “Pm no sae sure it w’u’d be safe to gang noo,” replied the prudent Scot. ‘They've gude strang walls to ’fend them an’ we have none. Gin the daft body came back wi’ mair help wut wud ye do then? “Never mind me, Sandy. I'll be all right in an hour’s time.” “Let Billy gang; he’d be ower glad to get a Jack, who | blink out of the een of the young Jeddy’s maid. Ye mind her, Billy; she gi’e yer hairt a sair mire the muscular frame of the man, who was | blow.’ wonderfully strong of limb. “ Take a hand, stranger?” he said. * Don’t care, though I don’t know the game “T don’t care if I go,” confessed Billy. “Can | | you whistle the horse up, Jack?” The injured man raised his fingers to his lips and emitted a sharp whistle which was answered by the neigh of the trained horse, which came bounding back a moment later. Billy Blake loaded his rifle, swung himself into the saddle and rode away ataswinging pace. He wasa gallant young fellow and had little fear of the ordinary dangers of the border for he had astrong arm, was a dead shot and knew that he bestrode one of the best horses in California. The night was not dark and objects could be easily seen at a distance of two hundred feet. The young stockman rode on at a brisk trot until he saw a | dark form start up suddenly from _the grass be- fore him and run on rapidly. He urged his horse, but to his utter surprise his utmost effort es not suffice to decrease the distance between them. “Halt, there; I want to whisper in your ear, stranger.” But the dark figure still ran on before him, and if anything gained upon the horse. “Tf I shoot you’ll come down, my boy,” cried Billy. ‘**You’d better pull up, now mind, I tell ou. J A mocking laugh was the only response, and that dark figure still fled on before him through the gloom of the night. Billy leveled his rifle but it was not in his nature to shoot a man in the back, and he again called out in a tone of warning. ‘Turn back you,” was the reply. ‘If you follow me, you come to your death.” ““You will have it,’ cried Blake. ‘‘ When you pass yonder tree, I will fire.” The man kept up his headlong pace, but, just as he reached the fatal tree he paused, and his hand went back over his shoulder. Even in the moonlight Blake saw something leave his hand and fly out before him. Mechanically he halted and followed the dark object with his eye, when there came a whistling sound and the dark ob- ject, which was nothing more nor less than a oomerang, struck him just above the eyes with terrible force and he was stretched senseless on the plain. The fleet-footed enemy came back and placed his hand on the bosom of the fallen man. He could feel no pulsation beneath hie lm, “Dead! We will teach them what it is to fol- low the trail of the Dukites.” ' When morning broke, its rays fell upon the still, cold face gf William Blake, a bloody mark pre his brow and on his breast the fatal sign of the serpent! The Red Dukite had again placed its sting in the breast of a victim. CHAPTER IV. THE MIDNIGHT ASSASSINS. THE hacienda De Cordoval was wrapped im the mantle of silence. Not a light gleamed in a window, nota step sounded in the long cor- ridors or in the lofty rooms. All had retired te rest—Mabel eating the couch of Zoraya, whe would not be parted from her new friend. EH co was upon the second floor, a ious chamber overlooking the gardens at the back. In the dead hour of night, when the two beautiful girls who had talked themselves into slumber lay clasped in each other’s arms, the golden locks of Mabel mingled with those of her darker sister, a hand was laid upon the gauze curtains, draw- ing them gently aside, and a dark, sinister face looked down upon the sleeping pair, The moon- light falling upon that face added to its devilish Ae for it was the face of Lucifer after the “TI could wring their proud hearth the quick,” he thought, as he lifted a thin-bladed knife which he carried in his right hand, ** but even I, sworn as I am to evil, could not look in their faces and strike. Ha! she wakes! Sleep —I command it!” . He stretched out his hand and made a few passes over the head of Mabel, who had partly started from the couch, and she in fell back, a powerless before the will of this wonder- man ‘*So the strong conquers the weak,” he mut- | tered. ‘‘Would the charm work with Walter Delisle? If it would—which I doubt—our work would be done this night. But, I know that in his breast is a will more powerful even than mine, ae ye weed een sd break. If I conquer him, it can only be with my dagger in his heart.” : ’ For full five minutes the man stood looking down upon the sleeping maidens, who had re- mained subject to his will. There was an ex- ression of doubt in his face as he looked at abel Delisle. You might almost call it love, so strong was it. “We have the power to spare one and one only of this fated family. If 1 have any voice it shall be you, fear not, sweet girl. I would _
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ant ~ ‘ the most powerful bar to their desi ~ 6 give the best years of my life to know that our work was done and that she would love me. Then in yonder sunny isle—but I dream and my work is still to be done.” A low hiss ealled him and he left the room silently, leaving the girls wrap in slumber. He had willed that they should sleep for five hours and then awake, freed from the mesmeric influence he had thrown about them. In the assage he met a second man who had warned = by the serpent hiss that there was work to 0. Speak,” hesaid. ‘‘ The girls will not wake.” ‘Senor Cordoval sleeps in the chamber which opens into the library on the ground floor. Our hated enemy is in the room at the right of the me Nerina We can reach him first if we will.’ “He isreserved for a worse fate; go on.” ‘Mr. Delisle and his wife occupy rooms at the lower end of this passage. Estevan Cordo- val sleeps opposite, and Walter—” “What of him? Is he alone too?’ hissed the man who seemed to be the leader. "Yes; he sleeps at the back of the main salon. If you wish to justify him, now is the accepted time.” By way of answer the man pressed the cold blue steel biade to his lips and signed to the other to lead on. He too had drawn a dagger like that carried by his companion, the handle ef which represented the coiled body of the Dukite. There could be no question but that these were the chosen avengers who had follow- edthe Delisles from their islandhome. As they through the long halls each man covered is face with a crape mask. They passed down the staircase, their feet awaking no echoes upon the stained floors, pushed open the door of the main salon, and crept in silently. The door of the bedroom stood partly open and the Dukites used and looked in, while the leader, touchin, raps If upon the breast, signified that he woul: strike first. . They approached the bed with the blue blades glittering in the moonlight raised above their heads. Walter lay there sleeping, his broad breast rising and falling with eac respiration. But these men, recognizing in him Ss against Oscar, never thought of pity. he bright bindes glittered inthe moonlight and the strong right hand of the avenger descended. There was a sharp metallic ring and the blade was shivered to the very hilt upon the concealed vest which Walter Delisle, living as he had in constant danger of the assassin’s dagger, had learned to wear night and day. He was upon fis feet instantly with a sword in his hand— for he always kept arms beside him in his bed. The weapon was one of those frail but pointed blades which are manufactured especially for the uso of ‘‘ Knights Templar,” of which body Walter was an active member. As he sprung from the bed he lunged out and the hilt knock- ed against the breast-bone of the second assassin who was springing upon him with the design of stabbing him in the throat. The man uttereda hollow groan and dropped dead at the feet of theslayer, who, without attempting to remove the blade, snatched up a bowie from the table by his bed, and uttering a shout to alarm the house, sprung upon the man who had struck him first. But, that wily villain had seen how useless it was for him to struggle against a man clothed in mail, and springing back had closed the door so quickly that the blow which was launched at his back was arrested by the wood through which the heavy bowie passed as if it had encountered paper. By this time the house was in an uproar. Servants variously armed were pouring down from the dormitories and Don Estevan and Senor Cordoval rushed in with swords in their hands to find Walter bend- ing over the body of the man whom he had pierced through the lung. ‘Search the court-yard; send out horsemen fo scour the prairie about the hacienda,” cried Walter. ‘I have made this one safe, but one jhas escaped.” , The dying man made a feeble effort to strike fiim inthe breast with his dagger, but the weak ’ ‘blow hardly penentrated the cloth and touched the mail. ‘*Curse the mail vest!” hissed the baffled assas- ain. ‘‘But for that the strongest enemy of the *elected twelve’ would now be dead with the sicn of vengeance over his heart. Beware the ‘gleyven who still live—but most of all beware of the chief!” He a oe the bloody handle of the sword | with both hands, and tried to draw it from the wound, but the effort was vain. Walter laid ‘his hand upon the sword and stopped his | A. k : Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “Not yet; I know enough of wounds to be sure that when that blade is removed your life goes with it. Who are your companions, and where is their secret haunt?” “Yes, dog,’* hissed Oscar, who by this time was in the room, ‘‘ speak before I tear you limb from limb.” ‘* Whatever happens to the elected twelve you at least are doomed, murderer of our brother. I spit at you, and laugh you to scorn.” By a mighty effort he tore the blade from the gaping wound, a great gush of black blood fol- owed, and the first of the elected twelve lay dead at their feet. ‘* A most determined villain,” said Senor Cor- doval. ‘If the other eleven have this man’s determined courage, and I do not doubt it, it will not be an easy task to defeat them.” ‘*They are villains, it is true,” replied Walter Delisle, “‘and I have escaped them twice by great good fortune; but they are as brave men as any now upon the earth. Why should they not be—men of all countries and all creeds, banded together with two objects, that of per- sonal ambition ana the good of the brotherhood. I should have said one chject, for every personal feeling sinks inse tmgnificance in their eyes compared with the wants of the order. I tell you, sir, that this order is grand in its concep- tions, were it not it lacks one thing which has made another order glorious,” ** And that—” “Is ‘charity toward all mankind.’ But, what shall we do with this body—for the ladies must not see it?” ‘‘The men are coming back,” was the reply of Senor Cordoval. ‘I hope that they have caught the other.” ** Never thinkit, sir,” replied Walter. ‘‘A Du- kite eer? provides for his escape, and if he is not cut own in the beginning he will get clear. Some of the men came in hastily, and announc- ed that not the slightest trace of the Dukite was to be seen. In some way unknown, he had seemed to vanish from off the face of the earth. Senor Cordoval told them to take up the dead form of the Dukite and bury it be ge: the plain outside the walls. Walter h thought it strange that, in this tumult in the building, no- thing had been heard from Zoraya and Mabel, and one of the maids sent up to their room soon returned and announced that they were sleep- ing, and her utmost efforts could not rouse them. ‘*Go up tothem, mother,” cried Walter, deep- ly agitated. * ‘‘ See if there is anything wrong, asI much fear. Perhaps they have been drugged —the Dukites understand drugs better than any men on earth.” Mrs. Delisle left the room in great haste, and hurried up to the chamber in which the girls slept. As she looked at their faces she started, and turning hastily, sent a servant after Walter whom she met at the door. “Unless Iam very much mistaken you will understand this,” she said. ‘*‘ Come in and look at them.” Walter entered and looked into the silent faces. ‘*Mesmerism!” he cried, turning pale, “ and we have driven away the man who made them Kn 78 ‘Tt is a question of power of will, is it not, my dear Walter?” ‘Yes; the strongest will rules the weaker. If his will is stronger than mine I cannot wake them; if mine is most powerful his will must bend to it. I will make the trial first on Ma- bel. Mabel!” The girl did not stir, but a singular expression flitted across her face. ‘*-Youhave been put to sleep by a strong man but his will must bow to mine. He has told you to sleep; J command you to wake.” She started slightly and muttered brokenly and again sunk back. Walter compressed his lips, and laid his hand upon her forehead with a strong pressure, “Wake, Mabel; I will it!” There was a violent struggle in the mind of the sleeping girl. The powerful will already in possession of her intellect struggled hard for the mastery, but a still more Pers opposed it, A moment more and Mabel started up, looking | wildly about her. ‘““Where is he? what has happened? Ah, is it you, dear Walter?” “‘Tam here, my dear girl. Be calm and tell mé what you have seen, if you will.” * A man stood there looking at me, and when Iwas about tocry out he commanded me to sleep,” htc Twn , nr 800 his maine geemnisinnensensee Se a a a a ee eS a ee + ee Se ee ee ee. a Be “T cannot recall it, but it seems to methat I should know it in my sleep.” | ? ‘‘That is enough for the present. Ti C) that it will not require so strong an effort to awake Zoraya as my will has conquered his.” He touched Zoraya lightly on the forehead and commanded her to awake, and seeing that her eyes were opening he at once left the cham- without the curtains. “Tt seems strange that you should go into that room,” hissed an an: voice in his ear. He looked up and saw Oscar looking at him in a threatening manner. “J don’t think you know what you are talk- ing about,” replied the young man, coolly. ‘* Mother sent me and it was needed, for both Mabel and Zoraya were in a deep sleep,” “Pshaw. A capital excuse, I should think. Mother is always on your side, and I should be giad to know by what right you call the senora y herfirst name.” ‘A slip of the tongue, certainly,” replied the young man, laughing. ‘But, once for all, no other man in this house could have roused them from that sleep, and I believe that no other man in the world could have done so, Laugh if you will, but it is so.” th in this as you “You must not cross m pa i have everything else in life,” cried Oscar, with a fierce look. ‘If you do, woe be to you.” “T believe that you are going crazy, upon my honor. I will not talk with you any more upon the subject until you are master of yourself, as you certainly are not now. Don’t you see that the servants are looking at you?” Oscar drew back and Walter went down to the lower floor, where he found the rest of the gentlemen in, close consultation. ‘“ We must open the campaign at once,” said Senor Cordoval. ‘I am not the man to allow my house to be invaded in this way, nor will I endure it. To-morrow fifty men in the saddle to commence the search.” “You will Jook in vain, then,” said Walter, “but,take your own way.” The morning came and as its first rays shone upon the earth the band rode out at the hacien- da gates in gallant array. When they reached the place where they had buried the Dukite, the night before, they found only an empty hole the fresh earth about it bearing the marks o many feet. Walter pointed to the opening as a proof of what he had said. “They have taken gS A the body to bury it according to their rites,” he said. ‘‘ Wes look for them in vain.” At this moment they were joined by the Scotchman and Jack Dean, whom they meant to take up at their cabin. The latter bore upon his saddle in front the. motionless form of Billy Blake, whom he had found upon the plain. “One more count against the Dukites!” fairly howled the stockman. “Are you ready to march?” CHAPTER V. . THE BURIAL BY FIRE. In the heart of the mountains nature had scooped out a ey bowl, the bottom a tangled mass of pines and dense shrubbery of raneuttadti growth. A deep, dismal place in which the foot of man had rarely rested—a place from which the Indian shrunk with holy horror for he knew that the bad spirits of the mountains dwelt in this dismal spot. Even the miners in the search for gold avoided the locality for they saw little hope for them in the dry bottom where there was neither water nor quartz. The Shastas and other Indian tribes had seen the spirits which inhabited the place and feared them. It is night, dark, lonely night, the clouds hid- ing the face of the moon; a single man comes stealing down the mountain side and disappears among the pines; there follows an interval of silence; then another man passes. In this way ten forms go down the mountain-side and are hidden by the pines. Half an hour later a single man, tall and strong, goes down the path alone and no one follows him. Eleven! 4 y The number of the Red Dukites since one has fallen upon the sword of Walter Delisle at the hacienda, A single spark of light is seen gleam- ing like a star threading its way in an erratic manner among the trees. Suddenly it goes out and all is darkness in the deep vale. Then a twelfth man comes stealing down the mountain and is lost among the pines, Who is it that dares follow on the Dukites’ | trail, in their secret haunts? A great cave, the roof hung with stalactites Lot rewn bree, A fro Mares in t6 midst 0 ber, accompanied by the servants who were ee es
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aes ~ the vast room making it glorious in its beauty. In a circle about the fire, near which stands a heap of resinous pines covered by a blood-red cloth, eleven men are seatedina circle. Each wears a mask and a white robe, upon the breast of which is worked, in red, the fatal serpent sign, and in the red belt above the waist is seen the slender dagger with the handle. Only one has no dagger and that one is the chief, who is seated high above the rest wearing a sort of helmet, upon the front of which are three words in an unknown os aa ; “ Are all here?” demanded the chief, in a deep to ne. ‘« All,” responded the brethren. “We were twelve,” continued the chief; ‘‘I see but ten brothers of the serpent before me. Where is the twelfth?” “Here!” cried one of the brethren, throwing off the red cloth from the heap of pine which was indeed a funeral-pile. Upon this heap, clothed in the robes of the Dukite but without a mask, lay the man who had been slain by Wal- ter Delisle. The blood which had been drained from him by his terrible wound had left his face of the color of impure wax, but there wasa certain majesty in his appearance, even in the repose of death. or, nothwithstanding the fact that his had been a life full of evil and violence, it was a bold face—that of a man who had not yet reached his thirtieth year. The eleven looked at the still face for a moment, and then each covered his ae crying out ut: Woe, woe, woe, to the accursed race! Death ‘to our enemies! In this world woe, in the world to come—torments!” “T must k and tell how this happend, = ‘the chief said. ‘‘ We two were deputed to put to death Walter Delisle. Fate has been against us and we have failed, utterly. I went first to the cabin of the stockman, Dean. In playing cards my sleeve caught upon the rough table, and the serpent sign was revealed. I was taken but escaped by stratagem, dealing Dean a blow which he will remember for days to come. My companion was on the alert, and watched the cabin. Soon he saw the younger of the three men leave it to warn the people at the hacienda that we were on the track. He ran on before the horse, and when he had tempted the young man near enough, threw a boomerang anc brought him down. We climbed a tree at the south-west angle of the hacienda wall, dropped our ladder into the courtyard, and descended easily enough and entered the house. I put the spell of sleep upon the young girls while he ”— pointed to the body—‘‘discovered the oo in which they allslept. Then we struck at Walter, but he wears a vest under his shirt. Remem- ber, if you strike at him to strike him in the throat. He seized a sword and killed my friend, and I fled, for the house was already in. confu- sion. How they buried our brother and we raised and brought him here, you already know. If I have not done well—if # have failed in any thing, each brother has a dagger, and my breast is bare.” “You have done well, oh chief,” responded the solemn voices of the ten brothers. ‘ No man could do more, and we are commanded to flee when there is no hope.” “Enough, then. Let us take counsel, here above the dead form of the man we have loved, and who has died for us. It was decided to slay Walter Delisle first, Let us see if we can not first torture this hated race in other ways. I have not been idle, and have both seen and heard much which will do us good. First, we know that the father and Walter Delisle love Mabel dearly, If any thing were to happen to her, it would cause them great agony.” ‘It is good; let their hearts be wrung to the core. “Zoraya Cordoval is beautiful. The first lance of her eyes has made the two brothers oye her, and they are already at daggers’ ints. Let us stir up strife between them, and know that there is evil enough in the heart of Oscar Delisle to cause him to kill even a brother if he stands in the way. If we could do this it would be well.” é murmur of approval passed through the circle at this refinement of vengeance, and a es of hands was heard. : “I ask you then, brothers, whether it would not be better to drop violence until they sink into repose, and work upon those loves and hates?’ While they stay here, and fifty men are ready to spring into the saddle when Walter Delisle lifts his hand, we can do little. Why not send out four men, the most subtle among us, to worm their way into the confidence of our enemies and wait the time to strike a blow?” The Red Brotherhood. There was a hurried conference among the | ten, and then one of them spoke up quickly: | **T speak for the brethren. t the chief name those to do the work.” ‘* Number three, four and eight are the men I have chosen and I also will go. To number three I give the work of betraying the maidens.” “T accept the work,” replied a melodious | voice, ‘and I will not fail to do my work well.” ** Accepted and recorded. Number four I give the task of working among the stockmen, because he has lived amongthem. These fools think that the Dukites dwell only in the South Seas, but we know that their members dwell in | many lands, and are ready to do the work of the order,” ‘“*T obey,” answered number four. ** Accepted and recorded. To number eight I give Walter Delisle, and it is a dangerous mis- sion, for he is a man)worthy of the name, whom it is not easy to deceive. “You accept, number | io ad eight do.” ‘Record it. As for me, I have chosen my work, and while I retain a general supervision over the actions of the others, my work is with Oscar Delisle. You shall see him wrought up to that pitch of fury that he shall be ready tostain | his hands in his brother’s blood. If I can ac- | a that you willsay that I have done well? ‘“We will,” responded the robed brothers. “We know you, and what you promise vo" will be sure to perform.” “Once more I say to the rest, keep close. * you need any thing, youare unknown in Tampa, and any one of you can go for what you want. The means to buy it lie at your feet in the wealth of this strange valley, where gold may be had by simply picking the nuggets of of the soil. Number three, I have chosen you in place of my dead friend.” ** And I will be as true to you as he was,” re- sponded the same melodious voice. ‘“ Great chief, you have only to command and your ser- | vant will obey. Only let me warn you to be- ware of one thing, the love of the profane. It | is written in our laws that none of the Dukites may wed outside the society.” “Why do you say that?’ demanded the chief in a changed voice. “ Zoraya Cordoval 1s beautiful—” **T could kill her without mercy.” ** And Mabel Delisle: what of her?” “Say no more or you may go too far. As for Zoraya_ she is the magnet by which I will | draw both Oscar Delisle and his brother to their | them,” was the chilling reply. | warm body of an enemy. serve knows our wants and has given this cow- | ard into our hands. fate. Yet I would give much to know that Walter Delisle was a sworn brother, for with | his will joined to mine we could make the world | bow down before us. Ido not wish to say it, but he is stronger even than I. You remember I told you that I had put the sleep spell upon the maidens?” “ Yes.” ‘Last night, long before the hour I had ap- | pointed for their waking, I felt his will strug- zling with mine for the possession of these mai- dens. I fought hard, first for Mabel and then for Zoraya, but I was vanquished and felt them | pass away from me. Had I been upon the spot with my eye upon the sleepers, and my hands weaving the mystic signs above them, I know not who would have been victorious, but he is conqueror now. Silence ali!” He raised his hand above his head, and made a sign which all understood. In an instant the band were scattered in confusion, and the chief stood with a single companion, the man known as ‘‘ number three,” beside the dead form of the Dukite. “You felt it too, great chief?’ murmured the sweet voice of his companion. ‘“ Be at ease; it will not be long before the brothers bring good tidings.” The eyes of the chief gleamed like stars through his mask. The minutes passed slowly | by, the fire burned low, when there came a con- fused sound of hurrying feet in the passage | which led to the outer world, and a man with | every mark of abject terror upon his face, broke | into the lighted cave where he was at once seized by the strong hands of the chief, and hurled to the earth. ‘*To me, Dukites!” shouted the chief. “I have him safe.” The men poured into the room and the prison- er was seized and dragged into the circle of light, which, falling on his face, revealed one of | the stockmen of Cordoval, a half-breed Shasta. | His face was literally convulsed with terror, for, | although a skilliul scout he had a cowardly | heart. “You have dared to act the spy on the coun- | | Cave, ““They—who are they?” **Senor Cordoval, Jack Dean and the rest. Do not kill me and I will join you; I will be | your friend if you will only spare my life.” “The Red Dukites want no cowards among “iy brotkers, you have heard it said that our brothers sleep more peacefully if we lay beneath them the yet Tho Spirit whom we Who has a dager?” Ten blades gleamed in the light of the lamp | and the spy sunk under twenty stabs, bleeding at every pore. He did not struggle, for many of the keen blades had been sheathed in his heart. They lifted the yet quivering body, and while some removed the form of their friend, the spy was laid upon the funeral pile beneath him, when the other was replaced and then the band marched in solemn procession about the ile, singing a funeral dirge in a strange tongue. hree times they made a circuit of the pile, when the chief applied a torch and the resinous heap at once burst into flame. The Brahmin’s wife, who threw herself upon her husbznd’s funeral-pile was not more devout in her sorrows than these strange men. The murcer they had just done was nothing to them—ii was a duty, necessary to ap the manes of their dey art- ed friend. With them there was only one ven- geance, the blow of the dagger, and life was an empty mockery at the best. Solemn and slow the funeral dirge rose about the pile as the white-robed men, still holding their fone dag- gers, circled about the death-pile. The terrib heat consumed the two forms, and when the solemn march was ended and the fire was gone out they marched about a little heap of ashes smoking on the floor, all that remained of the balf-breed spy and the first man that had fallen of that terrible band, CHAPTER VI. MYSTIC VOICES. THE avengers of Billy Blake and Pedro were in the foothills, eagerly searching for traces of their enemies. Walter had little hope that they would succeed, but as they were determined Le took the command and the search commerced. The half-breed alone of all the scouts sent out struck the true trail, and we have seen hcw little he gained. His ashes mingled with those of the fated ‘‘ number twelve” in the mountain No other trace of their enemies could te found and the scouts came in, one by one, utter- ly disheartened. “We'll have to give it up, ’m afraid,” seid Jack Dean. ‘The skunks have found out thi.t it ar’ too hot for ’em an’ hev dug out,” ‘That is not my opinion,” replied Walter, ‘* but while there is a well-organized. compan . like ours upon their track you will see nothix ; of the Dukites. My advice is to turn to the ha- cienda and keep the scouts at work until they have a trace.” “IT don’t know but you ar’ right, Cap, but I hate orfully to be beat. I’d give all the dw: I've got for a lick at that skunk that came to m} cabin.” “You will have achance yet. The Dukites never forgive nor forget, and you will hear from them again before many (sys. You may be sure of this. Are all the men in?” “That half-breed Justin ain’t here, but I don’t set much store by him, an’ he may never come back. He’s a cowardly hound, any- way.” “That makes no difference here,” rejoined Walter. ‘He is one of us and as such he is worth waiting for. We will give him fiv: hours. In the mean time, let the scouts be a: work.” The search was fruitless. Old mountaineers as they were, not one of the men knew anything of the existence of the cave which held the Du- kite secret. As the five hours drew nigh to close the men came in, one by one, until all sav: Justin stood in the silent glade, “It’s no use,” protested Jack Dean. “I did think the half-breed had got skeered an’ gea out, but now I don’t think it: the cussid Dukites have got their claws on him.” ‘* Ha, ha, ha!” roared a voice under their feet. ‘“‘ They follow the Dukites, they dare follow the Elected Avengers! Ha, ha, ha!” The camp was in confusion, snd the stock- men, starting to their feet, lockec ete. ”
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Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. them in search of the owner of the mysterious voice. They clambered up the rocks and search- ed — crevices, but nothing rewarded their search, “Dig for us!” cried the same voice. ‘‘ Delve into the bowels of the mountains if you would find the haunts of the Red Dukites. You are drones—you are fools! Where is the half-breed, Justin? Where is Billy Blake? Where is Pedro, the Mexican scout? t all men who follow us beware!” ‘*Fiold me, some chap!” howled Jack Dean, as he danced wildly about on the rocks. ‘ I’m so durned mad I know I shall bu’st. I feel it in my bones. Oh, let me once get my claws on you and won’t 1 make yousweat blood for this!” “Ba, ha, ha; Jack Dean, do you remember the blow I gave you in your cabin on the night when Billy Bleke was killed? Does your head ache? Is the )_and of the Red Dukite heavy?” “Oh, come and see me!” bawled Dean. “Come all at once, the hull darned caboodle an’ I’ll make the liveliest time you ever heard tell of.” “We are not fools,” was the reply, You have commenced the search for the Dukites, and we laugh at you. When you find us we shall know if. Vien you can burrow in the earth like moles and dive into the sea without harm, then you can cope with the Red Dukites.” “Tl match you yet, you red fiends,” yelled Dean, as the voices seemed to recede before him. ‘*Come out and face us.” Mocking laughter was the only response and the stockmen again began a frantic search of the rocks in the hope that some opening might be found, There was one crevice from which a thin smoke slowly rose, and they searched it without avail for a large opening. This smoke might arise from a dozen causes, and yet Walter was in doubt. “Boot and saddle, boys,” he said, after a moment’s thoug’'t. ‘‘I begin to think that we are no match for the Dukites on their own ound, and tlis business really puzzles me. They have got boid of Justin in some way, and I have no douls that he is dead already, for they never spare an enemy once in their hands unless he is werthy to be one of them, when they place every inducement before him. I myself, if I had yielded to their demands, would at this momen a chief among them, if not the chief.” “Did they want you?’ cried Senor Cordo- val. ‘‘That is very strange as they hate you somuch. TI er really very much in doubt as to what they mean, by making you such a pro- tion.’ “Yet the man who i em it placed before me riches and power if I would join them. He proved to me, beyond a doubt, that these prom- ises could be fulfilled, and [ have no doubt they would have been if [ had yielded.” ‘“‘Pshaw!” sneered Oscar. ‘‘How you do wish to be regarded as a man of unspeakable virtue, Wallie. Every man has his price. The choice of riches and honor before you, you would have chosen as any other man.’ “In other words—” began Walter, with a quickening pulse, his hands convulsively clinch- ed as he faced his brother. “Silence, Oscar!” cried the father, as the young man was about to retort. ‘‘If you open your lips I disown and disinherit you, and you lmow that what I promise, I fulfill.” Oscar stopped, a flash of furious passion on his face. He knew his father well and that if he dared he would be disinherited from that hour. et furious passion was tugging at his heart, and he was in a mood to commit almost any act. His eyes, with him the best index of his intense passion, turned bloodshot. An en- sanguined mist swam before them and for a mo- ment he was literally a madman. ‘* You were about to insult your brother, Os- ear,” said the father, quickly, “and it was time that I interfered. You must remember that I know that Walter s the truth. Did he not show me the letter he received?” “A letter!” sneered Oscar. ‘“‘ Let it , fa- ther; I won’t say anything to bring down the pride of your pet. How long are we going to tay fooli ere? Our astute young captain does not seem to accomplish much.” ‘Hear Oscar Delisle!” cried the hollow voice beneath their feet. ‘‘ You have com- mitted three crimes which in themselves alone deserve death. You have murdered a man who had done you no wrong—like a coward, firing before the time.” “Tiar!” shrieked Oscar. ‘¢-You know it is*true, you villain. You have robbed an old man of a treasure which he valued amore than life itself, for it was his all.” “Again you lie!” screamed Oscar. ‘I have not done this, and you only say it because you | | hate me.” “Tt is as true as the records of the Dukites,” | | replied the voice, ‘‘and you deny it because | you wish to appear well in the eyes of Senor Cordoval. Fool! Do you think that Zoraya | willeare for you when Walter loves her?” A look of shame mingled with rage appeared upon the face of Oscar Delisle. He gasped for breath and his hands opened and closed in a con- vulsive way. ““Tt tears your proud heart to have this known, base dog!” cried the invisible Dukite. ‘“‘Tcan see your face full of deadly pain, and know that you are almost ready to take your brother’s life. Liar, you seek todeny that we would have loved your brother if he hed loved us. of the greatest among us, even above him who is now our chief.” A hiss like that of a serpent came from the closed lips of the tortured man, and the Dukites laughed in chorus. ‘You demons, you hounds! Oh, tobe among you for a moment, sword in hand,” ‘*Youare not yet appointed to die, Oscar De- lisle. When thé time comes we will give you the rest you seek. Where is WS Vanverne, the beautiful maid of Tasmania? Who was her destroyer and sent her to rest under the salt sea? Who but Oscar Delisle, the white curse of the South Seas?’ Great heaven, Oscar!” cried Mr. Delisle, in a | voice of wonder, ‘‘ what do these charges mean?” ‘Do you wish to have me swear upon the holy book, that these charges are false? They are, and my word ought to be enough. But if you require it I will swear.” “T remember Mary Vanverne, a beautiful girl, and wondered what had become of her. If you have injured that beautiful child you shall rue it,” elod Walter. * A moment since when I doubted your boast- ing words, my father interfered with threats of disinheritance. Now when you offer me a deeper insult he is silent.” ‘* Because I fear that there is cause for the ac- cusation,” groaned the elder Delisle. ‘‘ Who was the man you killed, whom you said was a Dukite? The brother of Mary Vanverne, the White Maid of Tasmania, as brave a youth as ever trod the earth. Where was Mary last seen? With you, upon the sea-shore among the coral reefs. This much [ know, but whether you have wronged her, or whether, as you say, she was driven to her death by hopeless love, I can not tell. This much I do know, the girl was fine as an angel of light.” ** And so she was for all the wrong I did her,” replied Oscar, hoarsely. ‘“‘I have offered to swear to it, and I can not do more than this if you cast me out forever.” ‘*We must be satisfied with that,” said his father, of making out the mystery of these voices, let us march at once.” ‘There is something in this deeper than we can fathom, at present,” ‘* Mount and follow me.” The calvacade rode down the pass, followed / a burst of taunting laughter, at which the old rocks rung again. The night was coming on when Walter, who rode in advance, felt his horse tremble beneath him, and then stop sud- denly. A dark form lay extended on the grass beneath the hoofs of his horse—a form which remained motionless, after the hoofs touched it. Walter called the party to a halt, and leaping from the saddle bent over the prostrate form. “ Tt is aman!” he said, ‘‘ and he seems to have lost his senses. Hi; wake up here, my man! He don’t seem to have been drinking, and yet— arouse, old man! What is the matter with you?” ‘ The man moved feebly and pene at his arm in an uneasy, groping way, asif he were dasedbyatal °° ‘* T_T don’t know where [am,” he said feebly. “Where are you, Dolf? Help me up, forI have | had a fall. re the mare’s knees all right?” ‘Never mind the mare now,” said Walter. “She is all right, and if you will come with us we will show you where she is.” “Tl go,” replied the injured man, rising with the assistance of Walter’s strongarm. “TI lieve she threw me, but I don’t lay it up against her for she is a good beast. Where is Dolf? I don’t see him anywhere, and he promised to meet me here.” At this moment tbe beat of hoofs was heard, and a stranger came up at a gallop, leading a mare by his side. It is false; we would have made him our | chief, would have placed him, with the consent | | set eyes. | low, just the sort to please the eye of a border- “Come, Walter: if there is no means | replied Walter. ! —— 8 ‘‘ Strangers,” he said, hurriedly, ‘‘have you seen aman—why Abe, old boy, how are you? I reckon you have had a fall, for I found the mare on a wild gallop over the prairie. Ar’n’t you ashamed, an old mustanger, to be thrown y any piece of horseflesh going?” She ret in a gopher hole, Doif,” replied the injured man. These strangers found me and now they’ve done so much maybe they'll tell us how to get to the hacienda.” ‘‘Which one?” said Walter. “De Cordoval; we are old mustangers out of a job, aud we reckoned we might have some- thing to do there. We know horses, gentlemen, ' and that’s what the senor wants.” } “You are in luck, gentlemen,” said Walter.., ‘*Here is the senor to speak for himself. You had better ride with us to the hacienda where ee will be welcome, and to-morrow you may able to do something.” “Tf you are the men I think you are,” said Senor Cordoval, ‘you will be welcome; I will give you work to do, and enough of it. Ride on, gentlemen,” An _ hour’s ride brought them to the hacien and the stockmen scattered to their severa cabins with the exception of those who had = in the hacienda. Jack Dean took | charge of the strangers, and led them to his _ cabin, Sandy McGregor and himself being all that were left of his party. As they entered the cabin the two stockmen looked at their new companions. The one who had fallen was tall, stooping slightly from being much in the saddle, with a pale face closely shaven, and a very de- cided look about his firm mouth and in his dee In short, he was a bold-looking fal- man. The second was a manof a slighter buil with a fair complexion, blue eyes and alnios girlish expression. The stockmen fell in love vias ati pace, : es fin ‘ ‘*We are happy-go-lucky fellows, I tell you,” said the slighter the tw any a stranger? I’d like a game for love as I ain’t go any money to throw away.” ' “We had a game the other night with a big thief that gave me a lick iu the jaw that made them sing ec for two days, and they ain’t fairly quit aching yit. I'd like to git hold of the low cuss!” said Jack. An almost imperceptible smile crept over the face of the elder of the two strangers. ‘He gave you a good one, eh?” “Good one; thunder! It sent me on my back quicker than scat! I thought lightning had fetched me, that time sure!” “What sort of a man was he?” “Tallerthan you ar’ but straighter in the back —a hard one totackle. He tore his sleeve on the table there an’ showed a red sarpint on his arm, an’ we went for him but he fooled us; didn’t he, Sandy?’ ‘* Aweel, yes, mon; he fooled us sairly. Gin I meet him, soul o’ me body but V’ll mek him sorry. “Where was this hark?” demanded the man called Abe, stripping his sleeve to the elbow. ‘A red snake with his head up, just below the shoulder here?” ‘‘ Ay,” said Sandy, laying his finger on the naked arm of the speaker. ‘‘ Ye ha’e a bonny aerm, mon, an’a sair strang muscle. Na doot ye c’u’d gi’e a mon a diel o’ a pelt aif ye were sae minded,” “Tm not a baby,” replied Abe, making the muscles rise and fall in great snaky folds. ‘““Now Ive seen this chap you are § ing of with- in a week, and I had a little turn up with “Did you lick him?” “ Dolf said I did, but I don’t know. He gave me something to remember him by.” “He wasa bonny lad if he was a veellin,” rotested Sandy, ‘I hope to meet him ae day. Teel, weel, it’s a sair warld we leeve in, 1 gar ye understand.” The cards were brought out and they had a merry time, the free-hearted stockmen furnish- ing their adversaries with money enough for a “stake.” They played until the “ wee sma’ | hours” as Sandy said, and drank punch brewed by that worthy, who, at the last, was heard to sing: ‘* We're na that fou, we’re na that fou, But just a droppie in our e’e; The day may daw, the cock may craw But still we’se taste the barley bree!" The new-comers exchanged glances of satis- faction, for it had been their plan to make the two stockmen boozy. But, bleared as his eye was, and silly the expression on his face, Sandy McGregor was not drunk!
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7 CHAPTER VIL. FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. Tr carousal went on in the cabin and Jack Dean was the first to succumb; and at last, in beginning again, “‘ Willie brewed a peck of maut,” Sandy went under the table and the two new recruits looked at each other across the board, 3 “They are there!” said the taller of the two, ‘“ What think you of the description of the man whom they tried to take in thiscabin? Shall we do it? They are dangerous men, that infernal Scotchman, especially.” ‘We must not doit yet. You seo our power, and that at any time we can have them in our hands as tamely as now. No, no; let us be good stockmen for a while, and earn our daily bread by the sweat of our brow. Good faith, our South American experience will stand us in good stead here, since we have set up for stock- men. Now for alittle rest.” The two men lay down in the bunks by the fire-place and were soon asleep. No soon:: was this done than Sandy McGregor rolled over so that his face was turned toward the bunk in which the slighter of the two men was lying. He was already fast asleep, but for half an hour Sandy lay silent, until the heavy breath- ing of Abe convinced him that he slept, when the Scotchman began to roll himself along the floor to the bunk occupied by the younger man. Hisright arm covered o y by the linen of his shirt, for he had thrown off his coat, hung over the edge of the bunk. McGregor had a bowie with a needle-like point, and inserting this in the cloth without touching -the flesh he made a slit about six inches in length, beginning just below the shoulder. Having done this he did not move, fearing that what he had done might disturb the slumbers of the young man, Five minutes after, satisfied that the boy still slept, he raised himself cautiously and parted the slit he had made in the cloth and looked. Although he had suspected something of this, yet it was with a feeling of horror that he saw on the bare arm the blazing sign of the Dukities. The Scotchman fell back on the floor and roll- ed himself over and over until he reached the door, when with a sudden bound he flung him- self out into the darkness, running like a huni- ed stag in the direction of the hacienda. The old Highlander was fleet of foot and long-wind- ed and the run.of a mile was nothing to him. In five minutes he was clamoring for admission at the hacienda gate and when he made himself known he was at once admitted. ‘Quick wi’ ye, lads,” he cried, as some of the men gathered about him. ‘Rouse up Master Walter and tell him it’s no a time to dilly-dally wi’ the girls. I want him.” “ What have you got to say?” “Pinna fash yersel’, chiel! If onybody ha’e a chance to mek a drap of siller, it’s his bounden duty to mek it. Don’t waste time, laddie, but ha’e him oot.” Walter, who was in the parlor with the rest of the young people, came out at once when he heard who wanted him. ‘Why, Sandy; what’s the matter?” I dinna ken,” said Sandy, “‘seein’ ye are havin’ yer divarsicn wi’ the bonny lassies— w’ether or no yese thank me ower muckle for mekin’ ye gang oot, but there’s the deevil to pay oop till our hoose.” ** What's the matter, I say?” “Yo ken the twa chiels we found the night oot on the plains? I’m a wee bit afraid they- re no so Canny as they lookit til the outside, on. “ Why?’ ‘“‘Pinna ye think what I ha’e to tell maun be worth a trifle o’ siller?”’ “Tf you have any really good information you shall be paid.” | ‘“‘ What will ye gi’eme gin I deleever intil yer hand twa o’ they Duckits?” “Give you! Five hundred dollars the moment they are in my hands.” “Five hoonderd dollars! My certie, mon, but ye’re ower flush wi’ the siller. Get help then an’ coom awa’, for the deil’s in it gin they twa dour deils at our hoose are na Duckits.” “Collect ten good men as soon as you can pile alarm my father and the rest. Be quic The Scotchman, sure of the reward, now wasted no time, and when the gontlemen had reached the gate he was there with ten of the bravest men in the hacienda. “No horses,” said Walter, “and I will kill the man who fires ashot before I give the word. Lead the way, McGregor, and male haste.” Sandy struck at once into a long swinging sudden force The Red Brotherhood. 1 cO- walk, which caused some of the shorter legs in the party to stretch themselves to the utmost to keep up. At such a pace the distance be- tween the hacienda and the cabin was soon passed over, and the ty were halted within on feet of the door, while Sandy stole up to take an observation. Gazing in at the open door he saw Jack Dean still lying where he fell, while the two men they sought lay in the bunks fast asleep. A grin of triumph passed over the face of Sandy as he thought of the five hundred he would win, and turning he beckoned the rest to come on. Two men were placed at the window with orders to knock any one on the head who attempted to pass out and the rest rushed in at the open door over the prostrate form of Jack Dean, At the first sound of a step on the floor ; the hunted men were on their feet with a long- bladed knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. They saw at once that in some way they had been betrayed, and as the one calling himself Dolf glanced at his sleeve, he knew how it was that they had been discovered. “Wait!” said the taller man, straightening his bent back. ‘It may save two or three lives if you give me a moment’s time. What do you want with us?” “We charge you with the murder of the young man known as Billy Blake,” said Walter. ‘and with being accessory to other deaths. know your face, David Slocum, and you know that you deserve death.” “Gently, Walter, erg My pistol covers you, and you know that I never miss. we give ourselves up, what will you do with us?” “We will take you to the hacienda and give you a fair trial.” ‘‘With yourself and men for judge and jury. That is a magnificent idea, but it does not suit me. Once for all, if you will send us to Tampa to be tried we will yield; otherwise we will fight it out.” At this moment a stout lariat settled over the head of the speaker, and he was drawn with ckward, and the pistol he held exploded without injury. At the same moment the stockmen darted upon the two men, and Dolf was ge overthrown, but not until he had severely wounded one of his assailants. But with Dave Slocum the struggle was d rate. Although his arms were bound to his sides by the lazo, and he had little use of his hands, he fought desperately with his feet and head, stamping like a wild bull at bay. Half-a- dozen men were on him at once, but shaking his huge form as a water-dog does, he shook them off and managed to free his arms, but before he could raise them he fel) under a blow from a heavy pistol in the hand of Sandy McGregor. ** Lie down, ye dour devil!” roared the Seotch- man. ‘* Div ye theenk I’m gaun to lose my five hoonderd dollars?” Dave Slocum was down, his hands and feet bound, and the victors stood flushed and panting on the floor of the cabin. ‘‘Seems to me you make mighty free with my ranch,” said Jack Dean, sitting up quickly. “ What’n thunder are you all doin’ hyar? Any man would think*it was your rauch an’ not mine, the way you kick up a shindy hyar. Hullo, Abe; they’ve got you in a tight hitch, seems to me! guess I won’t ‘low any man that got drunk with me to be tied in my ranch,” ‘Haul off your hand, mon,” said Sandy Me- Gregor, as Jack advanced unsteadily to cut the bonds of the prisoner. ‘‘ Dinna ye ken that this auld beastie is gray wi’ wisdom? That dour thief is ae Duckit.” ‘‘Duckit was as near the proper term as the burr under Sandy McGregor’s tongue would allow. Jack Dean stared in surprise, and was sober in an instant. “But, see hyar; I understood that every Du- kite had the mark of the sarpint on his arm an’ this big ’un ain’t.” “Strip his right arm to the shoulder,” said Walter. ‘‘If the Red serpent is not there David Slocum shall R° free, villain though he is.” “You won't find any on a on him,” Jack Dean declared. ‘‘I’ve seen his arm.” “Did he take the trouble to show it to you, Jack?” ‘Yes, he did.” “Then he has some object in view for which I cannot account. Let me look at his arm.” The brawny arm of Slocum was bared, and there was no mark upon itanywhere, For a mo- ment Walter was puzzled, and a look of hope came into the dark face of the prisoner. “Keep your word now, Walt Delisle. You said you would set me free if you could not find the mark of the serpent on my arm!” he said. “And I never broke my word yet with a Cee ee eee eee ee ee ee friend or foe. If the mark is not on your arm you shall go free.” ‘Here, boys!” said the prisoner, in a cheerful tone; ‘‘ your leader tells you to cast off these bonds and set me free.” “Not yet, old fellow,” said Walter, “There is something about this that 1 don’t understand, but I never allow anything of this kind to go without studying ita little. When we were friends I remember well that you had three moles in the shape of a triangle just above the elbow-joint. I would like to know where they are gone. Suppose you take up that other sleeve.” “What for?’ cried the prisoner, furiously. “Curse you, let me alone.” ““Up with the sleeve, boys!” said Walter. “I think I see my way through this thing.” In spite of the struggles of the prisoner the other arm was laid bare and a shout of laughter burst from the men as the two were laid side by side. While both were brawny limbs, nobly he ct ar in every wats the leit arm was otted with black molesand covered with black hairs. He ground his teethin fury as the stock- men laughed. ‘““Twins, by thunder!” roared Jack Dean. “Something must hev struck into that arm, stranger; ’tain’t nigh so pooty as t’other.” ‘‘Oh—if my hands were free, if only for a moment!” hissed Slocum. “A little turpentine here, Jack,” ordered Walter, passing his finger over the bare right arm. ‘ i want to make a little experiment.” Jack brought a small bottle of the required article, and while some of the men held the arms of the desperate man, the young leader applied a little of the turpentine, and rubbed it hard. A thin coating of paint disappeared from the arm and the en serpent of the — appeared in bold relief upon the white sk qed. in, ‘*T don’t think we will let you go just yet, Dave, my boy,” said Walter, quietly. ‘Rope him well and away with him tothe hacienda—I have no doubt Senor Cordoval will give him lodgings, as he intended.” An hour later and the two Dukites, heavily manacled, were in the deepest cells which the ancestors of the Cordovals had made beneath the hacienda, Manacles supplied the place of the ropes, and a stout iron beit ‘surrounded the body, and to this was attached an iron chain which in turn was fast to a ring set into the solid stone. Fate seemed to be against the Duk- ites, yet the sublime faith which had upheld them before, was with them now. ‘Wait and hope, my brother,” said David Slocum. ‘ Help will come to us, even here,” Dolf said nothing, but there was something in his eyes which told that he was losing hope. _ CHAPTER VIII. THE DUKITES IN BONDS. “Wr must lvok out for our recruits for a while,” said Walter, after the prisoners had been placed in the cells. “I never dreamed that we could have the luck to nab this man, for, although I am notcertain of it, I believe that he is the master spirit of the Dukites,” ‘*- You know him, then?” “ Know him? Who of all the men who ever lived in the South Seas does not know him? There is no crime of which he is not capable, and yet I have never been able to trace a single one to his door. He has the reputation of hay- ing been a pirate, but there isno proof. Rob- beries without number have been laid at his door, and yet he alwaysescaped. Murdershave been done and the burden of proof always de- clared him innocent. That is easy enough when a dozen men were always ready to prove an alibi—men whom we did not then Lnow to be members of his infamous band.” “What was he?” ‘He has been captain of a whaler and afte that of a fast schooner, said to be engaged in the sandal-wood trade, but in reality kidnap- ping natives to labor on the plantations al out onolulu. He bas lived in Australia, South America and in China—speaks half a dozend languages fluently and is a professor of mes- merism. A men of wonderful boldness, who. if he applied himself to honest pursuits might be anything he chose.” “‘Ttis hard to see suchrare talents prostituted to such base purposes,” said Senor Ccr¢oval, ‘but while he is our enemy it is good to lave him inour power. It was very Ivcky that coy, McGregor kept his head clear last night. “T thought so much of what he has done, that I gave him five hundred dollars for it, e1d he has earned it well. Jack Dean says he will sell
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10 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ~ — his head for a football for he has been fooled twice by David Slocum.” ‘* Why was it that he wished to be tried at Tampa City?” “Don’t you see that? Half a dozen of his friends will come in and swear that he was with them in a certain place when these murders were committed.” “*T see how it is. But, how can we, if he brings such pr v0f, hang him for the crime?’ ; “*Wowill soarch every man who comes as a ! witness, and all who have the Dukite mark will be detained.” **T)9 you think they will come here, then?” **Vhey are very bold men, and there are not many things they will not do, the scoundrels. Let us lay out a plan and keep to it and we shall come out conquerors.” The night passed and Oscar rose from a sleep- less couch and went down into the court where he met Jack Dean. “Do you know that Sandy McGregor and — brother of yours did a neat trick last night? © What trick?” said Oscar, carelessly, little dreaming what the answer would be. ““T hope to freeze if they didn’t nab the king- pin of the Dukites, a chap they call David Slo- cum, and another of the samo stripe, a smooth- faced little cuss with a voice like a woman.” ‘* Dave Slocum?” ‘‘ Bet yer life! Leastways, Walter seemed to know him, an’ thet’s the name he guv him. And, boss, you may knock me all full of holes ef you want to, furl ain’t wuth shucks no more, I ain’t a patch on the seat of a pairof pants. I’m a mullet-headed galloot witha glass eye, like- wise with a wooden leg. A grasshopper on a raft an’ a hen under a barril.” ‘But it can’t be; the news is too good to be e. “ And Jack Dean was drunk—drunk—drunk ; Jack Dean was drunk ez a b’iled owl, completely cumfoozled, an’ that long-headed Scotchman hauled in the stamps. Yes he did; he raked the ile!” sf How was that?” ‘He played drunk, the uncivilized galloot, an’ when they slept the sleep of innersence an’ pu- rity, he crept in an’ opened the sleeve of the young ’un an’ saw the red sarpint. Then he crawled out an’ got help while I laid there drunk, an’ they nabbed the gang. What’s more— Walter guv him five hundred fur the job.” “Five hundred! I would have given a thou- sand—two—three—five, any amount tosee Dave Slocum in the toils. Why was I not called when the Seotchman came to the hacienda? Why am I always passed by when there is work to be done?’ ‘‘T reckon they didn’t need you.” ‘‘T’ll tell you the reason, if you want to know it: Walter wished to appear asa hero in the eyes of Zoraya, and purposely left me in the background. sat get even with my good brother some day, if it costs me my life. That he should triumph—that he should be the one to laugh in the face of my enemy in bonds— Where are the prisoners?” ‘*T reckon they are down in the cells.” ‘*T must see them at once. It will be some- thing to spit in his face as he lies bound, and to laugh at him, even if I did not take him. Is he in strong irons, chained down like a mad dog?” “ He ain’t any ways likely to get away,” was the reply of the stockman., © ‘‘ Irons on his hands an’ feet an’ iron ’round his waist, with a chain in the wall, orter keep him. Thar’s Walter now, and you kin ask him what you kin do.” “ Ask him what I can do! Do you mean to insult me?” “ Ska’cely; but he’s capt’in, you know, an’ we all obey orders here.” ‘‘ Who made him your captain?’ ‘‘ We did; hush your clam or he’ll hear.” “What do I care for that? I want him to hear me and understand what I say, too. Walt, I hear you have taken Dave Slocum.” “You have heard the truth, Oscar. I am happy to say that we have him bound down in heavy chains in the cells of the hacienda, That was a good night’s work, and we have to thank Sandy McGregor for it all.” ‘* You don’t claim the honor yourself, then?” said Oscar, in a sulky tone. “I'd be glad to know why I was not called to share in the en- terprise!’ “ You were asleep, and I did not wish to dis- turb you.” ‘*T was not asleep. Who the devil can sleep when such accusations are made and believed against him? This story about Mary Vanverne and her brother drove me nearly mad, and I vas sitting in my room when you left the haci- enda. But, let that pass and take me down to see the prisoners.” “What do you wish to see them for?” de- manded Walter, in an uneasy tone. ‘¢ Never mind that; I wish to see Slocum and assure myself that we really have him safe.” ‘You might take my word for that, I think,” said Walter. ‘But, since you insist upon it I will go down with you.” Ho entered a low doorway at the south angle of the hacienda, and went through a long arch- ed passage, unbolting several doors as he went. At last he stopped at an iron-studded door be- | | ; fore which two stockmen were seated, each with | a rifle laid across his knees. A huge key was in the lock of the door. The two men rose and stood at the ‘‘ make ready,” until satisfied who the visitors were; then they grounded arms and saluted. ‘““We are going in to see the prisoners,” ex- | plained Walter. unless I give you leave.” He laid both hands on the heavy key, and by the effort of all his strength turned it in the lock. Then, shooting back two heavy bolts he applied his shoulder to the door and entered. The two prisoners, who were seated on the benches which formed their bed, turned to look at the new-comers, and Slocum uttered a growl like that of a wild beast as he saw Oscar, who went quickly up to him. ** At last, Dave Slocum!” he hissed. ‘‘ Well met in the cells of the hacienda de Cordoval!” ‘*T might have known that this base wretch would come here to exult over us, my brother,” said Dave Slocum, slowly, speaking to his friend. ‘It is like the black dog to insult his enemies when it is safe to do so. Oecar Delisle, your brother isa gentleman. It is through him that we are here, and yet I can not find it in my heart to hate him asI hate you. Look at his face, Walter Delisle, and tell me if it is not the face of a villain.” Oscar made a forward bound and struck the bound man in the face with his open hand. “Don’t let any one else pass | cell while these prisoners are here. Get up Oscar; you have done this by your own folly.” Oscar rose slowly and without saying a word shook his finger in a slow threatening manner in the face of his brother and went out. ‘* He’s got a bad heart, if he is your brother,” added the guard. ‘Thunder! ‘You ought to lick him out of his boots.” ‘‘Tam sorry that he drove me to raise my hand against him,” said the young man, sadly. ‘*David, I will see that he does not have an- other opportunity to insult you as he has done to-day.’ ‘But for you, I would have repaid the insult in away which would have settled all scores between us,” was the reply of the Red Dukite. Walter went out and closed the heavy door behind him. As he went up the stairs he met Mabel who was seeking him in haste. “What have you done to Oscar?” she said. ‘““He has been with father, raving like a mad- a, and crying out that you have insulted “Ts he with him now?’ “No; he has taken his horse and is by this time on his way to Tampa City.” He explained in as few words as possible the encounter with his brother, and then hurried to his father’s room, who listened to him with a _ sad look on his face. With a leap like that of an imprisoned tiger | David Slocum sprung up and struck at him with | his manacled hands. at moment would have been his last for his skull would have been crushed like an egg-shell, but, just at the right moment, Walter tri yped his brother and he fell, and by the sheer impetus of the blow David Slocum fell upon his face with a resounding crash. Oscar, pale as death, rolled himself out of reach of the heavy irons, and stood up with | a look of a demon on his face. barrel of a pistol appeared, but with a loud ery of astonishment and anger, Walter wrenched it from his grasp. ‘* What would youdo, madman that you are?” “Kill him like a dog, as he is; he richly de- serves it.” **Then you must kill me first.” The shining | “Did you not see him try to murder me? He | would have done it, but for you.” “You struck him in the face—the act of a coward. I never thought a brother of mine could be guilty of such an act.” ** Stand out of my way!” “*T will not.” “Give me my pistol.” Instead of doing so, Walter cocked it and held it at his brother’s breast. ‘Stand back! While I live I will defend my prisoner.” “You hound! You dare to come between me and the man I hate. Then you shall go first.” He flung himself upon his brother, when Wal- ter dropped the pistol and caught him by the waist and for a moment the two struggled des- perately—one to pass by to the destruction of the prisoners and the other to keep him back. Driven to madness by opposition, Oscar re- leased one hand and struck his brother in the face, while David Slocum at the utmost limit of his chain endeavored to get a blow at either of the two, but especially at Oscar. “He has done it, my brother,” the Dukite cried. ‘‘ Without our help these two are ene- mies and what we seek will be accomplished.” Up to this time Walter had not put out all his strength, but with the blow he hurled Oscar to the earth and set his foot upon him. Then too late he remembered that, after all, this man was his brother and he would have given any thing to recall the act. The two guards, who had darted in as soon as the confusion began, but not in time to interfere, now came up. “Give your orders, Cap,” said one of them. “We are witnesses that you were obliged to throw him.” j “‘T have no orders to give, only that on no pretext whatever must you admit him to this ‘ble to say what he will do,” continu | father. “ ‘““You have done no more than any man would have done under the circumstances, ex- cept that you did wrong to set your foot upon him. He is your brother.” “T did that without thought, to keep him down,” protested Walter. ‘I was sorry for it the next moment.” ‘* With his hot, passionate nature it is imy os e t it go for the present, but you must conciliate him if possible.” “Twill a ie “a as soon as he is cool enough to receive the only apology it is in my power to make to any man whom I have wronged more than he. hat is to be done with these Duk- ites?” - ‘We will consult with Senor Cordoval and his son to-day, and make up our minds as to what is best tobedone. You have seen Mabel?” “ce Yes.” ‘Did she tell you where she was going?” ‘She said something about riding to Tampa City to find Oscar.” : “Do you think it best for her to go?” ~ “Tt might do some good, and for me I shall not interfere. I would go with them but—” “You must not go. Let Mabel and this sweet child, Zoraya, speak to him, and they will win him back.” An hour later, Zoraya and Mabel rode out of the hacienda and took the road to Tampa City with only a Mexican boy as attendant. The day passed; night was coming on, and Oscar, pan and moody, rode into the court, alone. CHAPTER IX. THE UNLOOKED-FOR BLOW. ‘THE sullen boor,” muttered Estevan Cordo- val; ‘“‘ he has come back without the ladies, I crave your pardon, Senor Oscar, but where did | you leave your sister and Zoraya?” ‘“T don’t know anything about them. What do you mean?” “Have you been to Tampa City?” “Yes—all day.” ‘« And have you not seen the girls to-day?” “Certainly not; why do you ask?” ‘‘ Because they left here an hour after you did, meaning to search for you in Tampa City, and they have not come back. I know not what to think, for Zoraya knows the roads well, and Juan was with them.” He shouted to a Mexican vacquero. who was near by, and sent him with three cr fcur others to scour the prairie in search of the girls, with orders to one to rice to Tampa ant inquire. The news spread like wildfire through the ha- cienda that the young ladies were m): sing, and all was confusion. Mrs. Delisle and <!c mother of Zoraya were wringing their hands wildly and erying out to the men to send help to their loved ones: while the gentlemen, more Cor} Osed, but not the less troubled at heart, we making pre- parations to ride out in search. “The man I have sent to Tampa will make short work of the ten miles he has to 20,” said Estevan. ‘' Before we allow ourselves to give way to fear, let us satisfy ourselves that they are not in Tampa City.’ “They are not there—they are not there,” sobbed Mrs. Delisle. ‘‘ Those dreadful Dukites | have taken them.” This was the fear which really occupied every heart, but which only the mother hac Jared to —_—_ —. ~— EE ye ee
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\ aloud. Walter uttered alow groan and turned pale. “You have beabnedl of your love for ae " he cried, fiercely facing his brother. ‘* Why don’t you do something to save her now?’ “T have made no such boast,” said Walter, sadly. ‘‘ All that man can do I will do for her sake and Mabel’s. Oh, Oscar, lay aside your hate, for a time at least, and join with me like a man in trying to rescue them if they are indeed taken “You will not find me slack in doing this,” replied Oscar. ‘‘I hear horses’ hoofs on the prairie.” Every one ran out into the court-yard, just as the vacquero, who had been sent to Tampa City dashed into the open space. “What news, Gozo?” cried Estevan. “They are not in Tampa and have not been there,” replied the vacquero. ‘ But, as I was passing through the gap where Pedro was killed a voice called to me and this letter was thrown at my feet. The man who threw it ordered — to take it to the hacienda, if I valued my life.” Walter snatched the letter from the hand of the vacquero, for he recognized in it the form usually sent by the Dukites. Tearing it open hastily, he saw the blood-red serpent and under- neath these words: “To Our Enemres:—The ae when it receives a blow, stings the assassin. e Dukites have re- ceived such a blow, and two goodly branches have been lop off. Two brothers of the Order are chained down in the dungeons of the hacienda and they have sent a prayer to us forhelp. We give it promptly. Two birds have flown from their nest and alighted amonz us. We make these fair maidens answer for the lives of the two men you have taken by numbers. Return them to us, or a wail shall come into all your hearts when we send you the dead forms of the two who have written their names upon this page. “We give you the oath of the Dukites, on this sacred symbol, that if these men come back to us before the sun rises, unwatched by you, before the sun sets you shall receive in return, safe and well; those whom you mourn, “THe Rep Duckirss.” Below was written these words in the hand- writing of Mabel: “We are prisoners and in dreadful peril. Save us if you can, for if we do not have help we have not | long to live. ““Mapet and Zoraya.” “Ten thousand demons!” screamed Oscar. “Why did you lect the girls go when you knew that these villains were threatening us night and day? Of allthe fool’s work of which I ev- er heard, of all the stupid actions—” ‘*Oscar!” cried Mrs. Delisle. **-Yes, Oscar and Oscar again! It don’t make it any the less one of the most stupid blunders of which I ever heard in my life. It is sim- ply—’ * Oscar,” said Mr. Delisle, ‘you must bear in mind that this is not a time for vaporing words. We have to make up for the ‘blunder,’ as you | name it, by setting the girls at liberty. To do this, we must give up cur prisoners.” “Never! Do you think I would allow David Slocum to go free after all that has been done?” “Ve shall take counsel together in a manly and womanly way. As you have made your- Self spokesman in this matter so far, permit me to ask why you would not give up the prisoners im exchange for Mabel and Zoraya?” “T will tell you,” answered Oscar, in a pomp- ous manner, “You will agree that it is im- portant to keep these prisoners?” Borne 4\nd that they will give t deal of trouble if set frea?” Moai fe ‘*Of course,” “Then listen to me. girls and intend to frighten ‘us into giving up our r oners by ‘threatening to send us the ‘dead forms’ of the girls if we donot give up our prey. This is mere stage effect, and we know that these men, bad as they are. wo y ) uc not take the lives of innocent girls,” ‘Did you ever know the Dukites to fail to peep a promise, if it was in their power to keep it? “Nonsense; we won’t give up the prisoners, and as for the young ladies, it will be a useful lesson for them not to be imprudent in future, hen the fellows see they cannot f righten us ey Will send Mabel and Zoraya back.’ Senor Oscar,” said Estevan Cordoval, “ it may suit you to speak in that c 1d-blooded way of leaving our sisters in the hands of these men, but as for me I would sooner go myself, a will- ing victim, and suffer them to cut me piecemeal, than permit those sweet girls to remain a mo- ment longer than necessary in the hands of men | | } | | They have taken the | The Red Brotherhood. 11 who stand ready to murder them. Let me re- | « Hit hard,” replied the wounded man. “It mind you that a moment since, and many times since you have been with us, you hinted at love for my sister. consign her to death to satisfy a private ven- geance of your own?’ ‘‘Bah!” retorted Oscar. ‘I see that you are all against me and will do as you like. But, of one thing you may be sure—David Slocum shall never go back to the mountains alive.” His horse was still standing in the court-yard, ready saddled. He leaped into the saddle and rode out of the court-yard at a furious pace be- fore any one could interfere to stop him. ‘*T am afraid that he will give us trouble yet,” said Estevan. ‘By my faith, Walter, it seems strange to me that two brothers should be so unlike in character. Whatsay you, gentlemen; shall we go down and visit the prisoners?” Walter and his father, with Senor Cordoval, followed the young man into the prison where the guards sat before the door. ‘* Your work is ended for the present, boys,” said Walter. ‘‘ You can go.” The two guards, nothing loth, shouldered their pieces and went out; Walter swung open the massive door and entered the cell. David Slocum looked up with a smile as they entered. “Give me the letter,” he said. Walter started and looked at him fixedly. “You heard me, Walter Delisle. I want the letter which the Dukites sent you when they had turned the tables on you.” ax Do you know in what way they have done is? ‘*Tf it had been my work to do, I should have taken the two girls and held them as hostages. The Dukites generally do the right thing at the right time, and hence I conclude that the ladies are in their hands.” Walter placed the letter in his hands and he read it attentively. “Well?” he said, interrogatively, as he re- turned the letter. “We agree to the terms, but what surety have we that the Promise shall be kept in rela- tion to the ladies?” My word!” replied David, drawing up his tall form: ‘I never failed to keep it yet, unless for such weighty reasons as these on my hands and feet. Where is Oscar? I suppose it offenJs him to the soul to think that we have escaped his vengeance.” “IT warn you that he has left the hacienda, threatening your life. If any thing should hap- pen to you after we let you go it is not by our wish or sanction.” He unlocked the fetters, and led the way into the open air. The two prisoners drew in long breaths of the pure air they had lost for some hours. _“* Prisons do not agree with me,” said Slocum. “‘T would not spend another day in one for the worthless life you seek to take. Gentlemen, [ agree to a truce of three days, during which time on my word not one of my men will lift a hand against you if you keep the peace.” “Ts Osear included?” “Tf he keeps the truce. to himself.” “We can not control him, nor are we in any way responsible for his actions.” * So be it, then,” said Slocum. If not let him look ** Before mid- | * . . | day to-morrow the young ladies shall ride into | the hacienda, safe and sound. azotea at nine o’clock and you will see them | 3e upon the coming.” Their horses and arms were returned to them and the two men rode away quietly, as coolly as if on their return from a friendly visit. The moon was up and shining brightly, and the yeople of the hacienda watched them for quite a istance as they rode away. Suddenly the silence was disturbed by the crack of a rifle, and they saw the companion of David Slocum fall forward and clutch at his horse’s mane to keep himself in the saddle, while, with a hoarse, unnatural cry of rage, Slocum set in his spurs and rode after a man who was rapidly disap- pearing in the darkness. But the horse which is not the fault of any one, save that dog, so do | not visit it upon the girls.” Is this your love which would | “Took here, David Slocum,” said Walter. “‘T am sorry for this as any man can be, and if | you will let me take this man to the hacienda and cure him, he shall go back to you safe as soon as he can walk, provided he will not take advantage of his position in the hacienda to work against us.” “He is yours,” said David Slocum, who had been examining the wound as well as he could in the moonlight. ‘‘ It will take a week to cure this, and it would be death for him to ride far as he is now. The girls shall come back, in spite of this.” He leaped into the saddle so lately vacated by the wounded man and was off like an arrow from abow. At the command of Walter, three or | four men lifted the wounded man, carried him | Oscar, in a low tone. Slocum rode had received a slight sprain, and | the man who had fired the shot disappeared in the gloom. Walter Delisle ran out alone and assisted the wounded man from the saddle just as Slocum came back. “The assassin; the cowardly hound, to shoot down men who were protected by a solemn promise !” . **T warned you to be careful, Slocum,” said Walter, “‘but from this hour he is no brother of mine—if it were indeed Oscar.” “Tt was that villain and coward, for I saw. him plainly. He fired at me and missed me. How is it with you, my brother?” ' wounded hound! / | ing hke a drunken man. | said Senor Cordoval. into the hacienda and laid him on a bed, and | Walter, who had dabbled in surgery somewhat, washed and dressed the wound, which was in the right side. Having done this he placed a guard before the door of the room and went down below. Shortly after, Oscar rode into the court where he was met by Senor Cordo- val. ‘“Your company would have been welcome here if you had behaved in another manner, sir,” he said. ‘‘ As it is, you may remain here over night, but in the morning I must ask you to find other quarters.” “Why? because I shot that infernal Dukite?” *“You shot a man who was under the safe- guers of my honor and that of my son, your rother and your father. When you did that you disgraced me. My respect for your father = his family is great but I will not suffer this.” ‘Senor Cordoval,” said Oscar, in a very quiet tone, for him, ‘“‘if you had been hounded and persecuted for two years, as I have been, you would not wonder that my passion gets the best of me sometimes when I meet these men. I in- tended that bullet for Slocum, but hit the young man instead.” ‘If you apologize—” “I do, most sincerely, and I will try to be 1ided by you in the future, as to my course. covet your good opinion of all men on earth.” “T withdraw what I said a moment since,” “You will of course do me the honor to remain here as long as it may suit your pleasure or convenience. n apology for a wrong is the only atonement a gentleman can make, but he should always be reaay to prof- fer that.” ‘*T would be pleased to apologize to the man I have woanded.” ‘He is in your brother’s care.” “Every thing and everybody seems to be in the care of my worthy brother!” muttered “Walt, you heard what I said; I want to apologize to the man I wounded.” Walter led the way, without a word, and they entered the room where the prisoner lay. Oscar approached the bed upon which, white as the pulow on which his head rested—for he had bled freely—lay the victim of his hasty ac- tion. He bent to look closer when he started back with a look of horror, doubt and fear com- ined, as if he had seen the face of one en f | risen from the dead. The wounded man, h rising from his pillow, turned his ghastly face upon the man who had wounded him witha lurid smile of hate, a smile which had deadly threatening in it. “Stanley Vanverne!” cried Oscar. ‘‘ Can the dead come out of their graves, then?” “Yes, they do rise, Oscar Delisle. The man you shot in the back at Tasman’s Point, like a cowardly dog, as you are, now lies here, again shot down by your felon hand.” “Stanley Vanverne!” said Walter. ‘Can it be possible that you yet live?” “Tt is not only possible but a fact that he failed to take my life, although he tried hard to do so.” “Then, since you are not dead, and the crime of your murder is not upon his soul, why do you yet pursue him?’ asked Walter. “Ask him! Look at his eyes half starting from his head, his pale face, his quivering nerves! Heknows, none so wellashe, that while I live, there is no peace for him. Oh, that I were not lying here, chained to my bed like a Take him away or the very sight of him will kill me.” The guilty man, for he was guilty if we may judge by his face, unable to bear the reproach- fuleyes of the young man, left the room, reel- Walter looked after
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ee | —— 12 aan him with sad eyes for ke could not forget that | this was his brother, the one with whom he had played in hisinnocent childhood. Vanverne noticed the look and a better expression came | into his face. | ‘By the sacred sign of the Order, Walter, I wish we could be friends. You have a noble heart in your bosom, a heart which might do great things for the Brotherhood if you were one of us. And if you knew David Slocum | as he really is, you could not help admiring My ” “‘T never could join an order which gives countenance to murder,” replied Walter, quiet- ly. “Say no more, Stanley, but try to get well.” The night passed and the sunlight ercpt slow- ly down the slopes of the Sierras. As the top of the nearest peak was bathed in golden glory they saw, filing out of a pass, miles away, a lineof moving spots. Walterloveled a giass at them—for the entire party were on the azotea —and made out that they were mounted, but whether men or women he could not deter- mine. Mrs. Delisle and the Dona looked at the young man wildly as he still kept his eyes upon the moving figures. “T can’t tell yet,” he said, slowly, with his eyes glued to the tube. ‘‘In a moment more— I think I can catch the flutter of a woman’s rid- ing-dress, but it might be a blanket—no—y*s! hip, hi hurrah! It is they!” A delighted cry went up from the azotea end theysaw four persons separate from their es- be and ride toward the hacienda, The gen- | tlemen ran down, mounted their horses and rode away to meet them, and as they came near, to their surprise, besides Zoraya ind Mabel there was a third lady whom they had never seen before. CHAPTER X. VANVERNE’S WIFE. THE tings were soon over and without waiting for much explanation the party rode | back. As they went Walter looked closely at the person who was with them—a beautiful child, seemingly not more than seventeen years of age with the olive complexion common to the inhabitants of the South Seas. Her hair was of that shining lustrous black so seldom seen in that color of hair, and rolled in rich masses al- most to her saddle. Her form was light and full | of willowy grace. “You ask with your eyes why I am here, Walter Delisle?’ she said at length—‘“ although ou do not speak in words. I am the wife of the man who was wounded and taken to the ha- cienda.” “Do women know the secrets of the Red Duk- ites?” cried Walter in surprise. ‘* You share the usual idea of men that oo alone can keep secrets, because all orders whic admit women sooner or later cease to be secret in their work unless they change it year by year. | But, you must not judge us by orders whose signs and passwords are flung about the streets | by boys and girls of ten years of age. Women | can keep secrets—some of them at least.” “Be it so; why are you here?” “T have come to see my husband.” **T have the word of David Slocum that noth- ings shall be done against us for three days.” ‘His word shall be kept good, sir. What can a weak woman do to harm you?” “Weak woman! Umph. I haveseen a great deal of woman’s weakness in my time, and have found it more powerful than the strength of men. You must expect that we will watch you while you remain under our roof.” “Certainly; [am not in the least averse to that course, if I can be with my husband.” The mothers of the rescued girls could hardly wait for their coming, and they had hardly alighted in the court-yard when they were clasp- ed in those fond arms. Oscar, who had not one out to meet them, greeted Mabel in a sulky fakin and held the hand of Zoraya in a burn- ing clasp. Ashe looked up he saw the eyes of the wife of Vanverne fixed upon him with a strange expression. It was with difficulty that he suppressed an oath, for he knew that this wo- man was keen and cool, and no doubt possessed of his secrets. “You are not glad to see me, Oscar,” she | said quietly. “Tf it were poor Mary Vanverne | now— “Keep silent, you tiger-cat!” hissed Oscar. “Or you may forget your manhood and strike | me,” she replied bitterly, her face wreathed into asneering smile. ‘‘ Does itnot surprise you, Mr. Delisle, that your son should meet so many old friends of whom you knew nothing?” “Oscar has chosen his own friends;” was the | very kind in you, Oscar. reply, ‘‘and if they have not always been of the best, he has no one to blame except himself.” ‘Which reflects somewhat upon us,” said Mrs. Vanverne, laughing. “If Oscar has feasted his eyes upon my face sufficiently I would like to go to my husband.” “‘Do you know what I will do with you if you betray me?’ whispered Oscar Delisle, in her ear as she passed, **T can hardly guess; won’t you tell me?” ‘“*T will twist that pretty neck behind you!” “Thanks—how good you are to warn me; My good friend, you have greater cause to fear me than I have to fear you. Ruin hangs over your head, and it will fail when the finger of fate is lifted.” She passed on with the same smile on her face and followed Walter, who led the way to the room in which Vanverne lay. Walter pushed open the door and passed in, while the lady paused upon the threshold. It almost seemed to Waiter that he could hear the beating of her heart. ‘‘[ have brought a visitor, Stanley,” he said, gayly. ‘‘Be careful now: remember that you are not strong.” There came the rustle of a woman’s robe, a low tremulous cry, and a pair of rich ripe lips were glued to those of the invalid. quietly left the room, unwilling to be a witness of the interview. He spoke to the guard at the door, and told him to watch the visitor, and then went down into the lower part of the build- ing. Oscar was the first person who met him. * How long is that fiend in the shape of a wo- | man going to stay here?” “That will depend entirely upon the time it takes for her husband to recover from his wound,” replied Walter. ‘“*T warn you, that in her, you have the most cunning devil Australia ever produced, and I want you to be careful. She will trick you, if such a thing is possible.” “T think we ought to be a match in cunning for one woman,” said Walter, as he passed on. ‘““You have some reason for hating Vanverne and his wife which you do not care to reveal.” ** You lie!” shrieked Oscar, furiously. ‘ Who told you—” He stopped in confusion, seeing that he had committed himself, and in a rage caught his long hair between his hands and gave it a furi- ous tug. Walter passed on with a laugh, leav- ihg his brother stamping furiously in the hall. Zoraya, who had not yet had time to exchange greetings with Walter, met him in the hall, and the little hand seemed to melt into his as he clasped it. Oscar, glaring down upon them from the staircase above, noted with fury the looks they exchanged. ‘*T am mad enough to join the Dukites,” mut- tered the madman. ‘I will do it, if they will | take me and forgive what I have done in times past. Then, my good brother, beware of me.” Three days passed, and they saw but little of the Dukite and his beautiful wife. Their meals were sent up to their rooms, and once or twice Valter | | his brother, coolly. she consented to come into the parlors, where | she vied with Zoraya in old songs of the almost | forgotten days. lescent came down himself, walking feebly, and lay upon a couch, while the women grouped in picturesque attitudes and chatted gayly. His wife sat by him, holding his hand and yielding gracefully when asked to sing. Oscar, hov- ering in the back-ground, looked at the pair with the eyes of a demon, for he felt that the return- ing force of Stanley Vanverne was a threat to him, ‘“T believe the three days of truce which Da- vid granted are up, Captain Delisle,” said Van- verne, “Yes; and I am ready to take the field as soon as he. Inaction tires me and I wish to set- tle our quarrel as soon as possible and have done vt a wl ne ‘Slocum will not keep you long in nse. said Vanverne, laughing. ‘It is comical, after all, to see us sitting here so coolly and talking of this event when we are enemies. You must | ”» send. me out of this as soon as ‘ “Not until you are stronger,” said Walter. ‘*Tf we all suffer through you I will keep my word to your friend.” “T would give my life for you, Walter De- lisle,” cried Vanverne, suddenly. ‘‘Do you hear me? I would give my life, and the time may come when—my dear, let us And to- morrow I leave this roof which has so kindly sheltered me, and with my will the Dukite ven- | geance shall not reach it.” On the fourth night the conva- | Kate Vanverne, with tears in her dark eyes, | gave an arm to her husband and the two left the room. The night passed and at early morn- | ing when they went up to relieve the guard at. the door of the prisoner, they found him lyin in a deadly stupor while an empty flask lay at. his side. “ Drugged!” said Walter. ‘‘ The work of the Dukites, who have been here while we slept. Thanks to our precautions they dare not do any evil before Vanverne and his wife were gone.” ‘*T believe that you connived at this escape,” cried Oscar, fiercely, ‘‘ You know that Stanley Vanverne and his wife hated me above all things earthly and would do anything to kill me.” “You know why they hate you, Oscar,” said ‘Will you explain it to us so that we can understand as well as yourself?’ “Don’t say too much, my good brother,” | muttered Oscar—the words coming through his clenched teeth with a strange, hissing sound. ‘*From the cradle in which they rocked you un- til this hour you have been a stumbling-block in my path, and an end must come soon. I have had enough of this, and if you will not lead the stockmen against the Dukites, I will do it myself.” “You will, eh? I wonder if they would fol- low you? But, in order to satisfy you I will say that as we are upon the subject I will lead my own men and that soon. And I hope, when we return, to be able to say that we have wiped out the name of Dukite from the face of our chosen land. Trust me, Oscar; there is no man alive who would be better pleased to know that this has been done than myself.” ‘**Why don’t you let Mabel lead?’ said Oscar. ‘Since a woman must lead them, she is as good as any.” Walter received the sarcasm with a quiet. smile, and turned away. An hour later he was = ed in a close consultation with Jack Dean and Sandy McGregor, who, for the last two days had been upon a scout, and would report to no one save the ‘‘ captain,” as they persisted in calling Walter. While this was oing on, Oscar | < out his horse and rode awa Soward Tampa ‘ity, against the advice of his father and Senor Cordoval. ‘*T’m old enough to take care of myself, I hope ” he said. ut you must remember that you have ene- mies, and that every step you take is in the midst of danger. Mabel and Zoraya—” “Tam not a woman if my brother is,” he re- plied, as he leaped into the saddle. ‘‘I shall re- | turn in the course of a week and by that time xerhaps he will be ready to march. Heavy bodies move slowly, you know.” ““T would be thankful if you were animated by the same spirit as Walter,” was his father’s reply, as the young man rode away. He only | replied by a laugh, and they saw him cross the Peers and ee agg in the pass between the oothills. He rode on carelessly, whistling a love ditty, when, in the narrow pass, he met a, woman whose face was concealed by.a thick+ mask. He could make out that her form was: graceful and that the eyes which gleamed oon him through the visor were bright and full of liquid light. Always ready for an adventure of this kind he halted, and, as the lady approached saluted her with an easy grace which he could assume when he chose. “* Well met, sir!” she said, in a slightly-tremu- lous voice. ‘If Iam not mistaken, your name is Oscar Delisle?” “T am glad that you know me s0 well, fair ” lady. How do you know that I am fair?” “Such eyes as you have, a sweet voice, a beau~ tiful form—must be accompanied by a beautiful face,” he replied, gallantly. “You are not changed,” she said, in a sad: tone, ‘‘ and [had hoped that in times like these, when your life is in danger at any moment, you would assume another tone. , wicked as you are, is there nothing in your heart of hearts which speaks of one you have wronged, and to whom you have not made atonement? Have you nothing to regret?’ ce No.’ “Let me recall a name to you—that of Mary i gag ‘Mary Vanverne!”’ . “No, not that name, but Mary Delisle, your wife in the sight of man as well as of heaven “4 ’ whom you wedded by stealth when you foun _ that your flatteries pf not break down her | purity. Neither force nor fraud availed and you made her your wife.” ‘* False, I tell you; false “You want proof, then. You think you were wedded without witnesses, but I tell’ you no, Here is the marriage certificate, with tlie names of three men who, unseen by you, witnessed the marriage.” {”
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‘‘ The sly jade fooled me, then?” ‘She only protected herself from wrong. And when you found her in your way—when ‘she importuned you to save her from shame by acknowledging her as your wife, what did you do? You plunged her into the sea, down among the coral-reefs and left her there to die.” ‘¢ Tt seemsas if my shame were to be trumpet- ed through the world, no matter where I fly. Give me that paper, woman.” ‘¢ Wait; do you want another witness to the marriage?” “Whom can you bring, unless the sea should give up its dead?” ** Behold!” She tore the mask from her face and with a ‘wild cry he reeled back and covered his face, for she looked at him with the eyes of her he whelmed among the coral-reefs of the South Sea, his wronged wife—Mary Vanverne! CHAPTER XI. THE END APPROACHES. THIS man’s heart was not of steel and it bent before this blow,. the most unexpected that could have fallen upon his guilty head. He could not believe that she stood here in the flesh, beautiful as an angel, looking at him in a wild, questioning way to see what effect the re- velation had upon him. bh !’ he whispered. ‘Speak to me—tell me that it is indeed the woman I once loved and in the end so hated.” “You see that I am here,” she said. ‘Oh, Oscar, you were saved from a shameful crime by an accident, for when you had hurled me in- to the sea and fled, you forgot that I had almost lived upon the sea, and when I went down in the deep water at the base of the coral-reef it was only to rise in a orag of safety under a shelving rock. I am here to ask you to do me justice, and if you will it is in my power to save you from the Dukites.” ‘“ What do you ask of me?” “ Tell all the world that Iam your wife; take away the shame which hangs upon my memory like a pall. I kmow that a new ion has taken the place of one which first induced you ‘to turn me, but that passion is hopeless. Walter will marry Zoraya if he escapes the Dukite steel.” “T would sooner die any death than see him triumph!” was the fierce reply. “You know not what you say, Oscar. Hope- less as your love is while I live it is worse than foolish to peril your life in this world and your soul in the world to come, by refusing to listen to me. Great as my wrongs have been I am ready to forgive all and save you if you will ac- knowledge me before the world.” “You ask too much, Mary,” he said, with a sneer. ‘‘Go your ways and leave me to work out my destiny as I may.” ; “Your destiny is wrought already,” cried a stern voice. ‘Seize him, my brothers, and bear him away. Fate has given him into our hands.” Men seemed to rise from the rocks about him on every side, and before he could turn to fly, strong hands seized and dragged him from the saddle. Closely pinioned, he stood in the circle of masked men, who glared at him with eyes in which there was no pity. He knew the men who surrounded him as the Red Dukites and felt that all hope was gone. 1syal' ““Since I must yield to the inevitable and have matrimony forced upon me in spite of my- self, it is best f yield gracefully. I acknowl- edge this woman as my wedded wife and am willing to take her by the hand as such.” His wife started impulsively forward, but was sternly repulsed by one of the masked men. ‘No, no, Mary; you have heard the dog say that he does this upon compulsion and ought to know that he will repudiate the act as soon as he is free. We gave him a chance of life if he would do justice, and he refused. That chance is gone forever, and it only remains for the Dukites to do justice.” “ David, as you nope to others,” mona the still tried to pass him. ie ots “Such is Foman’s nature, yielding to every wind that blows,” replied the Dukite. ‘“ Num- ber three, take charge of this girl and bear her away. We were mad to allow her to come here, at all.” The mask designated as number three took Mary by the hand and led her away, leaving Oscar Delisle in the circle of hisenemies. He felt his danger, yet in this moment bore himself like a man, for he had good blood in his veins, bad and cruel as his heart was. It is a mistake for mercy, show mercy unhappy woman, as she to suppose that cruel men are always cowards for it is not always true. “What do you demand?” “The chance to fight single-handed, with any weapons you may name i any two of your infernal band.” “The Dukites will think of it. Bear him away to the council-hall, and we will there decide his fate.” With a strong hand ing either wrist, and a pitiless: avenger marching behind with a colked pistol in his hand, they marched him away by dark and devious paths until they reached the verge of the Demon Bowl. Oscar felt a shudder pass through his frame as he looked down into that dark pit, for he realized that a terrible fate awaited him there. There was no mercy for him at the hands of the men he had so bitterly wron in days. Strange as it may seem, this man was more deeply moved by the fact that, his enemies having destroyed him, would give up their designs against Walter and the rest, than by his own peril. ‘Td like to ask you a question, Slocum,” he said as they prepared descend into the ** Bowl.” ** Ask,” was the brief nse. ‘* Having finished me, is it your intention to follow up the rest of my family, my dearly loved brother among the rest?” ‘Why do you ask?” ‘* Because, after all, he has wronged you more than I have. Youaccuse me of the murder of Stanley Vanverne and he is alive; you said that I had wron Mary, and I have said that she is my wife befare you all. My brother certain- ly killed one of your number at the hacienda, and the rest exulted in the work.” ‘*In other words you would not grieve deeply if you knew that the Dukites had more work to do before their vengeance is sated?’ ‘Why should he live on, happy and beloved, while I am murdered for a crime long since atoned for? Why should he live to wed oraya, while I am laid in a bloody aoe by avengers hands? I tell you that I could come out of my grave to haunt them if this is to be.” “I knew that your heart was bad, villain,” muttered the Dukite, ‘‘ but this baseness is worst of all. We will speak of this in council; go on. They descended the rugged slope, and wound their way among the low pines at the bottom of the bowl, and as they passed a little excava- tion the prisoner saw particles of gold shining amid the dirt. ‘You are comag~ By a gold mine,” said David Slocum. ‘“ this valley is wealth enough to buy a kingdom, and when we have justif ed you and all pursuit is over, we will come out of this valley armed with the lever of Archimedes, the power which moves the world. I will build up an order so grand that all the earth shall come and bow at my feet as at a shrine.” “Ten thousand curses! If I could see you dead at my feet I would breathe out my life gladly, die a. death.” The Dukite laughed as they moved on silently, and entered the k passage which led to their secret cave. Here the prisoner was strongly bound to a huge stalagmite which rose from the floor, and for a moment utter silence prevailed in the cavern. ‘‘Be robed, sons of the Serpent!” said the chief. From various nooks and crannies the men drew out the white robes which they wore in council, and appeared before the prisoner, each with the long dagger in his belt. “‘Senseless mummery is wasted upon me, fools that you are!” cried Oscar. ‘‘ Whatever you are going to do with me, do it at once. I have made up my mind to die, and if you wring a groan or cry from me it will be because I lose my senses. d spawn of the serpent, cowards and fools, I defy you to do your worst!” ‘* He talks loud enough,” remarked the chief. ‘Wait; the council is not yet ended, but you shall hear our deliberations. Come about me, sons of the Dukite, and hear my words.” They gathered around him in a circle, and waited for him to speak. “This man is tried and condemned already, and we need only speak of the manner of his death. I would torture him in the body, but I know that he would die with set teeth, for he have seen how he hates his brother and that he would die more easily if he knew that we intended to pur- sue him. By our laws we have the right to pardon an enemy by whom one of us is slain in self-defense. Shall we use that right and let Walter Delisle go free?” ** Yes, yes!” cried the Dukites. ‘‘The brood of the serpent knows when you spare. “Let Walter Delisle go free and unharmed.” Oscar writhed in his bonds and uttered a wild cry of rage, for the thought that Walter would be safe—Walter, whom he now hated—while he was doomed to die, drove him nearly mad. ‘**'You see, my brothers,” continued the chief, ‘“‘the dog would be happy in the death of his brother—our enemy, but a brave man. It is decided then; Walter Delisle lives.” “We agree.” ‘* Accepted and recorded. Now as to the man- ner of this man’s death. He has asked as a mercy that he shall die fighting, and has called me coward because I do not grant it. I am not willing to accord him te rere but sooner than he should die making reflections upon the great order, I will give him his will. But, he shall not fight two at once. Any man of the Dukites is more than his equal, but he shall die by my hands.” ‘“No, no!” cried the man known as number eight. ‘‘ You must not peril your life in such a cause,” “Tt is my will,” was the reply. Every man was silent, for who among them dare dispute the great head? “The council isended. Oscar Delisle you are about to die by my hand.” ‘Not yet; Iam ina trap, and I will not die easily. hat are the weapons?” “These,” replied the Dukite, raising in each hand the long Dukite dagger. ‘Number five and six, take your stations at the entrance to the cave, and if he attempts to fly, shoot him down like a dog.” “T shall not attempt to fly,” said Oscar, grimly. “TI fight, not for life but for venge- ance The Dukite threw off his robe and mask and showed the prisoner that he wore no defensive armor beneath his cloak. Then, by a single stroke of his r, he severed the bonds which tied Oscar to the lime- stone column, threw one of the daggers at his feet and retreated. Oscar picked up the knife and the two began to circle about each other, waiting for a chance to strike a blow. The Du- kite was by far the heaviest man of the two, but he lacked the activity of his younger antagonist. Twice Oscar ran in, but the blade of blue steel was ever ready and he bounded back out of dis- tance just in time to escape the point when the long arm of the Dukite was extended, “You must look out, my son,” adjured the chief, tauntingly, ‘‘or you may be hurt. Why don’t you come on?” ha I am in no hurry,” replied Oscar. Ha; take at! He darted in suddenly and lunged straight at the heart of the Dukite. But, os thin blue blade seemed to wrap itself about his own, and he could not disengage it. Before he could re- treat the blade of the Dukite passed through his shoulder. “One!” said Slocum, as his antagonist bound- ed back Was the Dukite playing with him? There was a smile upon his hard face and he stood like a rock instead of following up the advantage which he had gained in the first clcse encounter. Oscar showing his teeth with a tigerish gleam, the blood from his wounded shoulder staining his white shirt, stood for a moment inactive; then realizing the fact that he was fast losin, strength, he again closed with an ugly snarl an inflicted a wound in the wrist of his enemy so deep that he could no longer use the knife. Leaping back without turning on his heel he changed the knife into his left hand and met Oscar as he again rushed on, eager to end the fray. The knives of the Dukites flew out like bee-stings, but Slocum waved them back, ‘‘Let noman dare to interfere beween us!” he cried. ‘I must do this work alone, and if I fall I charge you only to attack him singly.” A they closed, and to the surprise of Os- car he found that the loss of his right hand was no disadvantage to the Dukite. On the con- trary, he seemed to fight with greater skill, and a left-handed thrust is hard to pery Oscar was wounded in three placesin this encounter, and beyond the first wound, David Slocum was hardly touched. At this moment they hear’ the sound of distant shouts and knew that their
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14 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. enemies had in some way found out their haunt and were upon them. ‘* Away with you, brothers!” cried the Du- kite. ‘We have been betrayed and you must save yourselves. Take that for vengeance.” He thrust full at the breast of Oscar, who, instead of trying to parry, lunged in return: but at that moment, Mary Vanverne, rushing in from some other part of the cave, threw her- self between the combatants, and, to the horror of all, the blade of Oscar found a sheath in her bosom, and she fell prostrate at his feet. The ery which burst from the lips of David Slocum was scarcely human, as, drawing back his hand, he buried his steel in the bosom of his enemy and left it there, the diamond in the hilt gleam- ing as he fell. The sound of steps came closer, and every Dukite, except one, planting his dag- ger in the breast of the fallen man, bounded over the prostrate form and followed their lead- er into the darker recesses of the cave, So quickly was this done that no one perceived that Stanley Vanverne had caught up his dying sister and rested her beautiful head upon his knees. He did not look up as the stockmen, headed by Jack Dean, Walter and Estevan oured into the cave. They stopped short as hey saw the dead form of Oscar, and the pale face which rested on the knee of Vanverne. “There he lies!” said Stanley, in a fixed, stony way. ‘Only my dagger is not there and it ouzht to be, for he has murdered this dear girl, his wife.” ‘*Stop not here!” cried Walter, pointing into the cave. ‘‘Torches, torches, and follow the Dukites to the death.” They had come well provided and in a mo- ment more forty men, each with a torch in his hand, was following the trail of the Dukites. Walter led the way, for all thought of enmity with h’s brother was gone at the sight of his bloody form. They could hear the footsteps of the flying Dukites as they dashed on through the great cave, but the enemy had the best knowledge of the ground over which they pass- ed and they gained but little. Still they held on, four of the bravest, Walter, Estevan, Dean and McGregor, far in advance. They came at last to a narrow pareace through which only one man could pass, and here the Dukites had ted three of their’\ number, willing victims save the rest. “You follow desperate men,” said one of these. “I warn you, if you would save blood- shed, to let us go in peace and from this hour you will never hear from us or feel our power.” “Down with them!” cried Walter. By this time the rest of the party were up to them, and in a body they dashed upon the devoted trio. The fight was ghastly in its character, but could only end in one way. Inch by inch these des- perate men disputed the narrow passage, giving ground only when forced to do so by the repeat- ed rushes of the stockmen, One by one they fell until only one man, and that one desperately wounded, stood in the nar- row way. is bladeseemed charmed and made a bloody road before him as he stepped slowly back. -A shot from the rear brought this brave fellow to the earth, the blood bubbling from a death-wound., “Saul o’ William Wallace!” cried Sandy Mc- Gregor, “ but the daft callant died grim!” “Pell the chief how I died, and my name will go upon the record which can never die!” he gasped, as his breath left his body, and over his ghastly form the stockmen, now wild with bat- tle-fire, dashed on to vengeance. Their work was not yet done. CHAPTER XII. FAREWELL TO THE DUKITES. Tre immolation of the three brave men had not been enough, for again the stockmen began to close in upon the trail. It was hard, for they caught the glimmer of light just ahead, and knew that if they reached that light they would be safe, for the stockmen here could be held at bay fora year if need be. But, it was not to be; all these men could not escape and some must die for the rest. Who should it be? The chief looked over his oulder at the coming stockmen, and saw that t must soon come to a hand-to-hand struggle. The blood dripping from his wounded wrist had sapped his powers, and he was in no condition to fight, so that out of the “elected twelve,” only six remained fit for duty since Stanley Vanverne had heen left behind. “Some must die, great chief,” said_ number two, who stood next tothe chief. ‘ You are not fit to fight, and I offer myself for one. Who will stand with me and keep this pass?” ‘‘1¢” cried the man known as number ten, as he cast away his mask and drew a long, thin- bladed sword which hung at his thigh. ‘““Why have you thrown away your mask, number ten?’ demanded the chief. ‘‘T shall need it no more, my chief,” was the reply. ‘‘When we two turn back now, we turn back to die. Take me by the hand, and let thy honored blood drip upon it and I shall fight more bravely.” They clasped hands with the chief, received his benediction as a father’s blessing and bade the rest good-by. Then they turned back to the narrowest part of the passage, drew their blades, and calmly waited. he stockmen, rushing on incautiously, came suddenly upon the steel points, and a battle royal began under the glittering dome. Those who had fallen so far were mere neophytes, but these two were chiefs of the order, men selected for their skill and valor, and who counted life lightly if by laying it down they could aid the orden, acked in the narrow space the attacking party could use their arms to little advantage, and before the first of these brave men went down he had sent five men before him to the spirit land. There only remained that gigantic man who had cast away his mask. Under the light of the torches his large, majestic face shone like one inspired, and the Scotchman, who had drawn his old claymore and rushed to the front, dropped his point for a moment before making the attack. ““Stand bock, laddies!” he cried. ‘‘ He’s a bonnie lad, an’ one fit to dee by the hond of an auld Heelan’mon. Shall weha’e a tilt thegither, laddie?” ‘““T’m a Scot, mysel’,” replied the giant, ‘‘ of the tribe MeCallum.” . : ‘McGregor! Death to the McCallum!” The swords clashed together, and the stock- men, holding their torches, looked on while the fray lasted. The canny Scot fought like a man who had learned his lessons in many a border foray, threatening now with the point and then with the edge as he forced his enemy back. He had a foeman worthy of his steel, and for five minutes the struggle was doubtful, when Sandy, making a cut at the face of his adver- sary, dropped his point and drove it through the heart of the giant, who —— at his feet with a gasp. But the check had been enough, and the four remainder of the Dukites reached the opening which led into the mountain pass near the place where the mysterious voices had startled the avengers, and especially roused the ire of Oscar Delisle. At the opening—which was so narrow that only one man could pass through, crawling on his stomach—David Slocum paused and shouted to Walter Delisle: ‘Do not dare to follow further, for we can kill you, man by man as you come through the opening. We came to Oscar Delisle, and our work is done. As for the Dukites they will live, and in the time to come you shall hear from them again. But we hold no enmity against you or yours from this hour.” He passed through the opening and was gone. From that hour they never sant tia face, but the order of the Dukites yet lives; growing in »ower through all the East. Walter knew that it would be death to follow them through that narrow pass, and went his way through the long passages, taking — dead as they went. They found Stanley Vanverne yet kneeling over the dead form of his sister. ‘* Walter,” he said, rising, ‘‘ all we have done has been for her and that grand old man, her father and mine, who was as much murdered by the hand of Osear Delisle as if he had buried his knife in his breast. I never struck him, yet it has been through me that he died. If you think me worthy of death I offer you my breast. Kill me if you will.” *¢ And kill me with him,” said Kate Vanverne, as she took her stand by the side of her husband. ‘“‘Tf he must die I have no desire to live.” ‘“‘ Men,” said Walter, ‘‘I will vouch for it that this young man has not the blood of one of our friends upon his hands. Even if_he had this is his sister who lies dead—murdered I fear by my brother.” ‘Let him go free!” cried the bordermen. “He did not intend the blow for her,” said. Vanverne. ‘ He had chosen to fight with the chief, and she ran between them before he could pw é his hand. Enough blood has been shed, and I give you the oath of a Dukite that you and yours shal! be safe from this hour.” ‘Yet we have killed your brothers?” “In self-defense; it is wanton slaughter we hate and punish. I give you a secret since you give me my life. In this valley is a gold-mine which will make you all rich if youcan keep the secret for two wecks. I only wait to see my sis- ter laid beneath the sod; then we will go.” The last sad rites have been paid to the dead; the Dukite has muttered his last farewell over his slain brothers, and is gone as he came. And Walter Delisle, as he turned back toward the hacienda, felt that a great weight had been lift- ed from his breast. ‘hey kept the secret of the valley well, and when at last a wandering “‘ pro- spector ” found them at work they had liited the ‘cream ” of the surface digging. But a rich lead had been struck in draining, and a busy- quartz mill now runs above the dark valley which was at once the Dukite refuge and their rave, Walter Delisle became one of the richest men in a country of riches, and two years after these events he led to the altar Zoraya de Cordoval. And he was not alone, for scarcely had the words which made them man and wite been spoken, when Mabel and Estevan took their places. An hour later they were steaming down the Yuba on their way do San Francisco—the Isthmus and the East. And there no longer hangs over their heads the sign of the serpen the dreadful symbol of the Red Dukite. Jack Dean is still overseer for Senor Cordo- val, Sandy McGregor has a ranch of his own, not far from the Yuba, and has taken a wife as thrifty as himself. In the East the order still lives—in the West it is growing. But men whisper that, under the hand of Stanley Vanverne, it has changed its character, and that blood does not flow for tri- vial wrongs. 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a Complete Deadwood Dick, Tar PRINCE OF THE Roap. By Edward L, Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack; or, Tax TRAPPER OF THE ENCHANTED Ground. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 3 Kansas King; or, Tas Rep Ricat Hanp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F, Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe; Ta YounG WANDER- ING Jew. By Oll Coomes, 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper: or, Lire IN THE Nortuwest. By Edward 8. Ellis. = The Flying Yankee ; or, Tux OcEAN Outcast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. & Seth Jones; or, THE CAPTIVES OF THE Frontier. By Edward §. Ellis. 9 The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. 1 Nat Todd; or, THe Fate oF THE Sioux Captive. By Edward 8. Ellis. 1 1 The Two Detectives; or, THE Fortunes or A Bowery Grau. A.W, Aiken. ] Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, anda Voyage to Brobdingnag. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, author of ‘* Vagabond Joe,” etc. 14 Aladdin; or, THe WonpDERFUL Lamp. 1 The Sea-Cat; or, Toke WircH or Darien. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 17 Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 & Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy i or. Tae PrLor u oF THE Prarie, By ffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, Drap- Wheeler, woop Dick’s Deriance. By E. L. 2 Frontier Angel. A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By E. 8. Bilis. A The Sea Serpent: or, Taz Boy Rosrnson Crusoz. By Col, Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o’ the eh hg or, THE Boy Sry or 76. By T. C. Harbaugh. Diamond Dirk: or, THe Mystery ov THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Ingraham. 2 5 The Boy 5 or, THE PIRaTE’s DaventerR. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. By Edward L. Wheeler. >) dy f Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Ol] Coome.s 28 Buffalo Ben; or, Drapwoop Dick x Discourse. By Edward L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page; or, THE Docr’s Davenrmr, By Capt. F. Whittaker. 3 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, TuE Reckisss RaneerR. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, THe PRInck OF THE Prarmizs. By Oll Coomes, 3 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: or, Tue Girt Drap-Suor. E. L. Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THz Rep Preares or THE Carissers, 8. W, Pierce. 34. Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wutrrves’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams, 35 Wild Ivan, THE Boy CiaupE Duva.; By Edward L, Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN oF cue ARENA. By Frank 8. Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge; or, Tie Litre Hower or rue AprronDAcks. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, Tue Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, the Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 4 Roving Ben. A story of a Young American. By John J. Marshall. Al Lasso Jack, THE YounG MusTANG- ER. By Ol) Coomes, 42 The Phantom Miner: or, DraD- woop Dick’s Bonanza. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. By Capt. F. Whittaker. BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. Every one of them ‘* Live” Stories by *‘ Live® Authors. Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALF-DIMKE, 44. Rasttling Rube: or, Tux Nicut- HAWKS OF cKY. By Harry St. George. 4 5 Old Avalanche, the Great An- nihilator. By Edward L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, the Great Shot ofthe West. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 4.7 Nightingale Nat: or, Tux Forest APTAINS. By T. C. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 49 Omaha Oll; or, DeEApwoop Dick In Dancer. By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. A Tale of the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles, or, THE UNDER- Grounp Camp. By Archie C. Iron. 5 The White Buffalo. A Tale of Strange Adventure. Charles FE, Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THe Boy PHENTX; or, THROUGH To THE Deatu. E. L. Wheeler. 54. Ned Hazel, Tur Boy Trapper; or, THE PHANTOM Princess. By J. F.C. Adams. 5 5 Deadly-Eye, Tue Unknown Scovr; By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whiffles’ Pet, or, IN THE Vauuiey or Deats. Capt. J. F.C. Adams, 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Tax Parps or FLoop Bar. E. L. Wheeler. 5 bss The Border King; or, THE SECRET For. By Oll Coomes, 59 Old Hickory, or, Panpy ELLIs’s Scatp. By Harry St. George. 6 The White Indian; or, Tar Scout or THE YELLOwsToNE. By J. F.C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill, or, Tot Rep RIFLE Team. By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship, or, Toe Rrvau Lrevrenants, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood, or, THE TweL_vge Avenarrs. By W. J. Hamilton. 6) 4 Daady Jack, or, THE OUTLAW OF Tue Orgecon Tram. By T. OC. Harbaugh. 6 Hurricane Bill, or, Mustang Sam anp Hs ‘Parp.’”’ By Jos. E, Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand, or, A Lire ror a Livs. By W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-Leather Joe: or, OLD Rat- TLESNAKE, THE CHARMER, By P.8.Warne. 68 The Border Robin Hood; or, Tux Pram Rover. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle: or, Taz Boy D&TEcTIVE or THe Biack Rance. By E. L. Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, THE GrEEN- HORN IN THE Woops. By J. F.C. Adams. 4" 1 Delaware Dick; THz Youna Ran- ger Spy. By Oll Coomes. 12 Mad Tom Western, Taz TEXAN Ranorr, By W. J. Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheeler. yj 4 Hawk-eye Harry, THE YouNG Trapper Rancer. By Oll Coomes. 15 The Boy Duelist; or, THE CRUISE oF THE Sra Wo.r. By Col. P Ingraham. 16 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken. w ie | Corduroy Charlie; or, THe Last Act or Deapwoop Dick. By E. L. Wheeler. vA & Blue Dick; or, THe YELLOW CHIEF’s VENGEANCE. By Captain Mayne Reid. w « 9 Sol.Ginger, tue Grant TRAPPER. By Albert W. Aiken, SQ Rosebud Rob; or, NuGGet NED, Tre Kyicur or THE GuicH. By E. L. Wheeler. Si Tégetats Jo, THE TERROR OF THE RAIRIE. By Captain J. F. C. Adams, $3 Kit Harefoot, THE Woop-Hawk;: or, Oup Powver-Face. By T. C. Harbaugh. Each number $3 Rollo, the Boy Kanger; or, THE HeErress of THR GOLDEN Horn. Oll Coomes. & 4 i the Girl Miner; or, Rosrnup B ON Hand. By Edward L. Wheeler. 8&5 Buck Buckram: on, Buss, rk FE- MALE Trapper. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. SEG Dandy Rock, THr-Man-rrom-TEx- 4s. By G. Waldo Browne. ing 7 The Land Pirates: or, roe LeAGuE or Devin’s IsLanp. By Capt. Mayne Reid. && Photograph Phil: or, Rosenup Ros’s PEARANCE. By Ed. L. Wheeler. &9 Island Jim: or, THE PET OF THE Famity. By author of “Jack Harkaway.” 90 The Dread Rider: on, rue TEXAN Dvueuist. By George W. Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club. By Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway.) 92 Canada Chet; or, OLD ANAconDA In Sitrine Buv’s Camp. By EB. L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners; or, THe ENCHANTED Istanv. By Edward §S, Ellis. 9 4 Midnight Jack, Tuz Roap-AGEnt, By T. C. Harbaugh, 9 5 The Rival Rovers. By Lieutenant Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch - Eye, tHe Detective. By Edward L, Wheeler. 9 The Outlaw Brothers: or, THE Caprive OF THE Harpers. By J. J. Marshall. 9 & Robin Hood, THE OvuTLAWED Eart. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve. 99 The hho! of Taos. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 O 1 J _ uate mien ae York. 10 Dick Dead-Eye, Txx Boy Suve- @LtzR. By Col. ntiss Ingrabam, 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara, 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Edward L. Wheeler. 10 5 Old Rube, tHe Hunter; or, THE Crow Captive. By Capt. H. Holmes. 106 014, Frosty, the Guide. By 107 One-Eyed Sim; or, Tue Apan- DONED Forrest Home. By J. L. Bowen. 108 Daring Davy, THE Youne Brar Kruger. By Harry St. George, 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 10 The Black Steed of the Prai- ries. By James L. Bowen. 1 1 The Mad Hurxter: or, Tux Cave or DEATH. By Burton Saxe. 113% yo 11 The Black Schooner. By Rocry 1 1 5 The Mad Miner. The Sea-Devil; or, Tux Minsnip- man’s Lecacy. By Col. P. Ingraham. Srarpuck. Ready September “0th. By Gronrag Wa.po Browne. Ready October 7th, 116 The Huseat Captain. By Cou. Prentiss INGRAHAM, Ready October 14th. 1 1 7 Gilt-Edged Dick, THe Sporr-Dz- rectivs. By Edward L. Wheeler, Ready October 21st, A new issue every week, The HMali-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York, er