Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 71) (1878 12 03)
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\ w ot WOR UME Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, pe pop <i 2) . <<) , ‘ NMI SIAR, < am — Allee ANS Vol. IIL _ Single Number. Delaware Dick, THE YOUNG RANGER SPY; Brother Against Brother. BY OLL COOMES, KNIFE, ETC., ETO. CHAPTER I. WING-OF-THE-WIND. A svuBpvED light shone from the windows_of the wad stone church of Woodvale, that stood on the road to Princeton. It was nothing uncommon to see a light there on Bunday nights; and to hear the voices of men and women ascending in prayer and song to Heaven; but | this was on Friday night, and at the hour of twelve. The sound of voices was within; but they were nut engaged in prayer and song, but in secret conclave. They were pitched ia low, yet excited tones. A score of men stood around the altar, discussing the pro- gress of the Revolution, and rejoicing over the defeat of the American arms. They were MBDories of the deepest dye; and had met in the old church to hold secret council—sacrilegi- ous conference iu the sanctu- y of God, that no one would mistrust their designs of evil. Outside, along the road, in and out of the moonshine and shadows paced a sentinel with a musket on his shoulder and a pistol in his belt. He moved as softly as a panther, with both éye and ear on the alert, for these were dangerous times. The church stood on the mar- of alittleclearing. Across j ‘ the road opposite was a deep, : g dense woods, through which « the Stony obeldg'S noiseless- ly as a serpent. Half a mile back from the church began the surrounding settlements, that numbered many homes and hundreds of people. These ple were representatives of Fifferent nationalities, but all were striving in common to duild up homes in the New World—all worshiping toge- ther at the Woodvale church. There were no disputes, no dif- ferences between them, until the Colonies revolted against the oppression of the mother country; then they became 4i- vided. It was Rebel and Tory, Patriot and Royalist. Some tried to maintain a strict neutrality, but these al- ways bore watching, for they were prea, Lound to a sympéthy with the crown. The Tieetths fs Woodvale church was composed of this class. The sentinel pacing to and fro before the church stoppes ever ind anon to listen. e air wis clear and bracing, for it was a December night. The was png The moonwas In the zenith. Sudienly the Tory guard saw | Was a horseman. and heard nothing. He made an ear-trumpet of his BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, Price, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. No. 71. 5 Cents. something coming down the road from the east. At least he thought he saw something—he thought it But he bent his head and listened hand, and listened with the same result. He stood his musket on the ground and pressed his ear upon | the muzzle with no better success. He again glanced up the road, satisfied now that he had been laboring under an optical delusion. But as sure as his name | was Jeduthan Wool, there was a horseman, or some- 40MmOR OF “‘ VAGABOND JOE,” ‘ THE DUMB SPyY,”’ “KEEN | ; nt: | the road. To be more certain, however, that the misty thing that closely resembled one, approaching along moonlight was pis ying no freak with his eyes,he rub- bed them with his knuckles, then took another look. |} And, good heavens! it was no delusion! There came a horseman without a doubt; but not a sound did the animal's hoofs make upon the hard, frozen earth. Jeduthan Wool was superstiticus as a witch, and the absence of the sound of hoof-strokes, and the hantom-like appearance thrown around the figure y the spectral white moonbeams, filled him with a | vague terror, I, UM Ed , ‘WAKE UP, MY LORD, YOU ARE MY PRISONER.” “Tt must be the ot of some dead Patriot co | to haunt us,” the fear, The silent horseman approached with at rapid- ity. Jeduthan Wool bennine fascinated with terror, He crouched in the shadows of the fence, and with dilated eyes and chattering teeth, watched the ob- ject of his fear float past him and turn in toward the church, But he did notsee that the horse's feet were muffled in great padded shoes of woolen ma- terial, that inclosed the entire hoof, confined at the hock-joint, intrusted their safety to ory thought, trembling with sile The men in the church their friend Wool; and to prevent any one looking im they had hung curtains over the lower half of the windows. But the horseman, who must have an- ticipated this blinding of the windows, was prepared for them, and riding upto one of them, he stoppe'l his horse, then rising to his feet stood up in the sac- dle and gazed over the curtain into the building. Closely he scanned each face assembled around | the altar. A glance at each one would have satisfied him, but he heard a mes speaking in an excited tone, and he could not resist the temptation to listen. ‘Men, our cause és just,” he heard him say; “‘ but whether it is or not, we must fight for our king; burn for our king; kill for our king; and, whi it is not known that we are royalists, we can easily soun€é the sympathies of our neigk- bors, and when we find that they are rebels, let their homer, their property aud their lives, if need be, pay the penalty And "’—here his voice fell t it was inaudible to the listener, but in an excited whisper con- tinued: ‘‘ boys, true as there is a God, there's a face at the window!” The next moment the pane of glass, against which the si- lent horseman's face had beem pressed, was the convetgin point of a score of bullets. te was shattered to atoms; While the deep, murderous roar’ of the muskets rolled from altar to entrance, floor to belfry, as if in search of an outlet to the open air. The bullets passed out at the window over the head of the horseman as he dropped as- tride of his horse and galloped away, silent as a shadow, swif’ as a deer, Jeduthan Wool rallied fron, his stupor when he heard tle boom of his friends’ guns, and sent a shot after the silent rider The men came storming from the church, calling aloud om Jeduthan. He answered them from down the road, whither, he had gone in pursuit of the mysterious Tam O'Shanter. he men mounted their hotres and thundered awa, after him. Down the road they tore like madmen, “Ride, men!’’ shouted one who seemed to be the leader, “for should it become known that we are royalists, the devil will be to pay. That infernal Delaware Dick will give ug no rest. Ride up, men; ride up.” A mile from the church passed a house whose inmates were wild with excitement. A negro met them at the gate, , eS SSS ~ 4
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. “wet 2 > Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ae, ray “Fore the Lord, who is you?” he asked, with / the Woodvale church, and his flight and escape bea wi, teeth. ‘Friends, in pursuit of a horseman—see one go down the road just now?” demanded the Tory leader. “Yes, massa,” replied the trembling darkey; “ but ihe wa'n't in the flesh—he war a spirit! He jist flip- by like nothin’, Massa Bodson, he’s gone over tell de Simpkinses, and de whole family’s on dar eads wid fear. Lor’! Lor’! but—” The Tories heard no more, but galloped on. denly a lizht before them litup the sky. It was in ae vicinity of Rugby’s house—he who was speak- : when the unknown loeked in at the church win- ow. As they approached the light, Rugby saw that his barn was in flames, ‘*Forward, men!’ he shouted. “ The fire-fiends are abroad—my barn is wrapt in flames—my home Sud- across the Delaware river. Dick noticed that a heavy cloud rested upon the brow of Washington and his Cag ¢ He saw that the commander was troubled; his very tone indi- cated a despondent and gloomy spirit. features | were almost severe in their peice of agitation. “Dick, my boy,” the general said after listening to our hero’s my, “the Tories will now grow bolder. | They will no longer hesitate to speak their senti- | ments, and encourage the British arm = all as- | sistance possible. The Jerseys are completely within | the enemy's control, and he only awaits the freezing | over of the river to follow us into Pennsylvania. | Total defeat seems inevitable, unless we can make a | sudden movement and retrieve some of our lost | | ground and revive the spirit of the army and the will follow,”’ and as if upbraided by a guilty con- | science, his mind went back to the speech he was making in the church when he saw the face at the window. Ten minutes’ ride brought them to Rugby’s prem- ises. Rugby drew rein in the light of his burning barn, dismounted and ran to the house where all was terror. As he approached the door a horseman floated alongside of him from the adjacent shadows, | ail drawing rein, thrust a paper into Rugby’s hand. Rugby drew his heavy pistol, but before he could use it, the silent horseman, whose face was the same . = at the church window the is horse over the low picket fenee in front o ‘house and disappearing down the road. Rugby stood like a slone statue, and watched the silent and mysterious horseman disappear from wiew. Not aword had escaped his lips, not a sound tnad his horse’s hoofs produced. He opened the paper, and in the red glare of his burning barn he read: “T heard oe speech in the Woodvale church, and Irecognized every face there. Remember that eye Zor eye, and tcoth for tooth shall be the motto of ‘* WING-OF-THE-WIND,”’ An exclamation burst from Rugby’s lips, and his face grew pale. ** Boys,” he said to his epmpanions, who, at this , dashed away, leaping | | be done. country. Despondency and gloom has seized the | public mind, and nothing but some brilliant feat can | ore restore it to its wonted degree of strength and | ope. ; a I admit, general,” said Delaware Dick, “that our prospect. of success is not flattering: but what mercy , would we receive should we give up?” “We must not give up, Dick,’’ answered the gen- eral, resolutely: ‘*we must not think about giving up, for our cause being just, God will help us in the end, The fear of a severe winter troubles me now, for our soldiers are almost naked. The want of the necessaries and comforts of life may prove the most | destructive enemy to myarmy. So, something must I believe you are well acquainted with the Delaware valley; are you not, Dick?” “T've been raised along the Delaware, general, and | know every crook and turn for fifty miles above and below.” The general's face brightened. : “Twas just thinking since you entered, that if I were in possession of Lord Cornwallis’s plans of the | winter’s campaign, as well as the number and dispo- sition of his army, it would be of inestimable vane | to me; but none but a daring spy could obtain this | information.’ juncture, came up, ‘it wili be war to the knife be- | tween rebels and royalists now, in the Stony river valley. That horseman was that terrible young | rebel scourge, Delaware Dick, the Spy, and Wing-of- | the-Wind, the Ranger, as he is called. Men, mount your horses and ride him down!” ; “Did my coming suggest this to you, general?” asked Delaware Dick. F “Tt did,”’ answered the general, a faint smile play- ing about his lips. **General, I am at your service,” declared the young ranger. “If you request it of me, I will sac- rifice my all to obtain this information for you.” “You know your ability and resources, Dick, and | | the dangers that would attend the adventures of a The Tories once more took to the saddle and dash- | | mation, 1, as well as our country, would be grateful. ed away in pursuit of the young patriot. 2 On down the road toward Trenton sped the Wing- of-the-Wind. Mile after mile was traversed under the crisp No- | vember night. In and out of the moonlight and darkness flitted | and flashed the young patriot, then his Tory pursu- ers. The road was in good condition, and Delaware Dick being familiar with every crook and turn, amused uaimself by slacking the speed of his horse until the Tories were nearly in reach, then darting away and appearing, first in their rear, then in front, to the confusion and rage of the party. At length the broad expanse of the Delaware river burst from the woods before him. Ice had formed im athin border along the shores, and the middle earrent ran swift and cold. But, without amoment’s hesitation, the fearless young Whig rode into the Fiver and swam his horse over to the Pennsylvania @hore, where the Tories dare not follow. In his wet clothes the hardy youth galloped on through the chilly night. He had gone about five miles when the twinkling of a hundred camp-fires ‘burst upon his view. A smile of joy lit up his coun- tenance, and he moved on until suddenly halted by a sentinel—one of the pickets of the American army. ** Who comes there?” was demanded. “Delaware Dick,” answered the young patriot. The ranger was known to nearly every man in the American army, and without further words the sen- tinel allowed him to advance. Entering the picket lines, he moved slowly on through the encampment, and in a few minutes he stood, with hat in hand, in the presence of the com- mander-in-chief of the American army, General George Washington. CHAPTER 11. DELAWARE DICK’S INTERVIEW WITH WASHINGTON. DeuawarE Dick was well known to Washington, faaving previously rendered him some service as a Ae and at sight of him the general uttered an ex- ation of delight. The cabin in which the general had established his quarters for the night, was lit up by the ruddy glow of a fe that burned in a yawning tresthos, n this light the face and form of our hero was plainly re- vealed, He could not have been over twenty years of age; and yet his face bore the intelligence and strength of amore mature manhood. Indomitable courage, reckless daring and resolute energies were predomi- mant upon every feature—in. the steel-gray eyes, the rather prominent nose and the large, expressive mouth. In form he was rather below the medium size, yet nature had bestowed upon his lithe figure all the physical developments of a perfect man. He was dressed and equipped in a manner becom- ‘ng his position, and Which gave additional strength ae fine martial 7 St 1 bearing, and lent an air of dash- utry to his movements. a seat near the fire where he couid dry his ing, ware Dick entered into conversa- tion with the general and hismen. He narrated his @ayenture on the Jersey side, particularly that at patriot spy in the British camp; but for this infor- Cornwallis is some thirty miles up the river on the Jersey side, and since he has gent but a detachment of his army to Trenton, I am inclined to think that he is arranging a trap for me.” “*General; I will start this night for Cornwallis’s head-quarters,’’ said our hero. “TI left my band of rangers some ten miles up the river, and I will join | them, and approach the enemy close as possible; then disguise myself, and enter the British lines.” With the blessings of Washington and his generuis, Delaware Dick soon took his gpa upon the dangerous. mission of_a spy; and in less than an hour, he was on the Jersey side of the Delaware, ) moving up the river. Just as it was growing day, he came upon the | bivouac of a score of men in the deep, dense forest | bordering the stream. His presence in the camp | was hailed with joy, for these men were Dick’s own followers, They were all young men and boys, who had won a name in the local history of the Delaware valley. They were the sons of patriot fathers, | whose homes had been desolated by the ruthless hand of the enemy; and, fired with the “oe of patri- otism and the passion of revenge, they had taken to the field, in defense of their country and their honor. They were a band of those fearless, dashing fellows, roduced by the exigency of the times, of which | arion and Sumter will ever stand forward the |* most conspicuous:in American history. But history is often partial, and fails to do justice to all deserv- | ing men. Such/has been the case with our hero and his band. Delaware Dick’s men were all very plainly dressed. There was but one peculiarity about them. That | was a pair of scarlet wings, taken from red birds, and worn upon the side of every hat. Wherever | these badges went they were never forgotten, and to the Tory element, the names of Delaware Dick and his Scarlet Wings were onymous with terror. Dick dismounted, fed his horse, and partook of a hearty breakfast of hard biscuit and baked beans. In the meantime, he narrated his night’s adventure at the old stone church and at Washington's head- quarters. ‘And now,”’ he continued, “I am on my way to Cornwallis’s head-quarters,”’ An exclamation burst from the lips of his friends. “Tam going as a spy,” he continued, “at Wash- ington’s request.”” ‘You will never return alive, Dick,’ said Roland Runkles. ‘The British camp will be full of Tories that will know you.” “Tt is a risk to run, friend Roll; but there is no | sacrifice but what I am willing to make in behalf of our country. A spy must expect to meet dangers. But, boys, I want you to accompany me as far as you dare go.” To this all a, utes the Scarlet Wings ware. The sun was up, but the air was keen and frosty. The fingers of the little band aoe with cold. Two hours’ riding brought them to a road runnin almost parallel with their course. They conclude to take to the road, but before entering it, Delaware Dick dismounted, and creeping to a point where he acquiesced, and in a few min- were moving up the Dela- | company with him, | think it very safe for rebe | Coonrod ‘Kimball, | but the table was soon spread wit — mmand a view of the road in both diree- ve pe ee to owed ag mimi ‘oe read was clear t his surp’ e@ saw a horsem ee ie retin of Trenton, He was dressed in the uniform of the king’s cavalry. He was a British oon. “Fall back, boys, fall back,’”’ commanded Dick, “for here comes & British trooper. I will drop into and you can follow behind, though out of sight. Should I need your presence, I will call you. I dare say, he is a messenger carry- ing dispatches, either oral or written, from Trenton to Cornwallis; and if so, I’m going to have them at all hazards.” Delaware Dick mounted his horse, and rode away up the read at a slow pace. : The trooper soon up doubtful tone, demanded: ‘“‘Good-morning, sir stranger; for whom do you vito T ke ar hike ay trooper? Do you “ a rebe i i vey in Jersey nowadays?”’ *s friends ly by the answered our hero, ’ “Verily, the rebels and Tories, as the are called, dress alike, and are known 0: company they keep.’ Me Gon friend trooper, I shall be pleased to ride to Cornwallis’s head-quarters with you,” ‘ “How know you that I go there?” “T merely supposed so,” “Well, you are right; and as sure as my name is am glad of your company. . don’t fancy meandering alone along here, for there’s no telling what moment a dog of a Whig will bounce upon you.” Delaware Dick smiled. coming’ with him, and, in a / nh » ‘ + The two rode on side and side through the c-ispy ; morn. Delaware Dick conversed freely, but guardedly; and he soon discovered that his companion was no fool. Hea a ached the trooper carefully, but, de- apie his skillful questioning, he failed to circumvent the wily red-coat. Dick, however, became satisfied of one thing—that the man was a bearer of dis- | patches to Cornwallis. A couple of hours, ride brought them in sight of the fine residence of one Henry Bland, an old To of the deepest dye. This Delaware Dick knew. Ho = often seen the old man, yet was unknown to nim, , ‘““Yonder,”’ said Dick, pointing ahead, “lives ag warnyold royalist as ever lived.” “Indeed?” rejoined the dragoon; ‘suppose, then, we stop, and warm, and get something to eat; for, by the prophets, Iam as hungry as a bear and cold as an iceberg.” Dick consented, and they soon drew up before the house. The place denoted wealth and culture. In answer to their summons, old Henry Bland ap- posts at the door. The uniform of the British sol- ier was sufficient to admit him, and the company | he kept, to the old man’s friendship. _ “Be you friend or foe, old man, we want some- thing to eat,”’ said Dick, *‘for we are cold and hun- gry. Xana thirsty,’ added the trooper, Bland invited them in. Breakfast meal, and the men invited to the boa: rare old brandy was placed befo pea freely, or, at least, Dick ap ooper drank often, and he beca the happy influence of the liquor. e ery potentate of England, from the time of the Con- quest down to George the Third. He gone! became so confused in his ideas, that he drank to the health of friend and foe alike. Dick, too, became over- oer by his frequent draughts, and finally rolled the floor in a sort of a drunken stupor. : “Too bad, (hic) exclaimed the trooper, “ t’see a oung man in prime manhood (hic) let likker get ‘e best of ‘m (hic) that way. I say, gov’ner, Ia is ° know when to quit (hic) ’dulgin’ t’ excess, I (hic).” Henry Bland made no reply, for the trooper rolled from his chair, dead drunk. Coming in, as they did, out of the cold to the warm reom, and imbibing so freely of the brandy, they were overcome by the })o- | tent influence of the drink ere they were aware of the fact. Bland swore like a pirate at the men for go | beasts of themselves: but his words would have h as much effect upon stone statues. With the assist- wood-house, and left them to sober off. But scarcely had they left the building, ere Delaware Dick opened his eyes and gazed about him; and, finding the trooper snoring away in a drunken sleep, he rose to a sitting posture. eo A smile of grim triumph was upon his face, uN When assured that the trooper was not ‘ layin *possum,”’ Dick arose, and began searching his ets and clothes for papees. To his joy, he found a dispatch from Colonel Rahl, at Trenton, to Lord Cornwallis. It read: gv" a 4 | ance of a male servant be removed the men into # . 4 “My Lorp: Washington is near Trenton withasu- _ rior force. Would it not be advisable to a fnforcements here at once for fear of an attacl “Your obedient servant, ““CoLONEL Ra “Torp CoRNWALLIS.”” ti Dick’s face became flushed with delight, as lanced over this dispatch. He rose to his feet,so- | ee a judge. In fact, he ante been drunk age all. He had only embraced that op ti cumvent the trooper, after he had found that. love of liquor was a weakness of the royal so ‘“‘This very paper will be my passport to Corn | lis’s head-quarters. I will pass myself as a Tory i MES | ‘te rtunity to cir- — ,
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—~—we —_———_- uniess some one should be about and identify me, the British will know no better.” * He concealed the dispatch upon his person, stole _ out of Ce Baer ouse, ound horse, and mount- ing, galloped away. The trooper lay drunk until noon, when he crawled out of the wood-house, blear-eyed and sick. When he found that he had been robbed of his dispatch, he mistrusted something of the real truth, and at once started on his journey. A short ways from the Bland residence, he was captured by a band of par- tisan rangers, wearing scarlet wings upon their hats, Delaware Dick rode hard in the direction of Corn- wallis’s army, ignorant of the fact that the enemy were then on the march down the river. About moon he met the advance guard, and, being halted, Was soon made acquainted with the situation. He - thformed the guard that he was direct from Tren- ’ ton, with dispatches for the commander; and so he ‘was at once escorted into the presence of Cornwal- tis, who, with his generals, was riding some distance ' dn advance of the main column of his army. E Dick's heart beat wildly with fear when he found _ himself a spy in the enemy’scamp. The presence - of several Tories filled him with uneasiness, through fear of detection. He introduced himself to Cornwallis as Abel Day, # scout and spy in the employ of Colonel Rahl. The eneral had heard of Abel Day incidentally, and as he youth told his story so straight, he had no grounds for mistrust. < “Sir,” said the general, “what brings you here?” “ Thave come with a dispatch from Colonel Rahl, was Dick’s answer, and he presented the purloined paper to the general. : : Re this juncture, our hero caught sight of a face that sent a chill of fear through his heart. It was the face of a young British officer—one that he had never seen before; and yet he became convinced, b _ the light in his eyes and the half-triumphant e -. upon his face, that the officer recognized him, ), Dick expected nothing else than exposure, and at mce made up his mind to act according; but, to his surprise and relief, the Zouns officer turned away. ornwallis read the dispatch, then said: * Colonel Rahl is afraid of Washington, and wants einforcements. You can say to him, Abel Day, hat he need have no fears of Washington or any Other rebel.” _\** He also expressed an ignorance of your move- pate, eneral, which makes him more Negba Fe ve of danger,’’ remarked the young spy, with man- - ifest indifference. » Cornwallis shot a quick, contemptuous glance at the youth, who fairly winced under the look. '~ ** Tell Colonel Rahl that I do not make ! plans _ known to every straggler and royalist in the col- ~ wuies.” Here Dick met with a partial defeat that preclud- ed further questioning and observations. He rode : pions in silence by the general’s side, at the same 3 E | ] me keeping a sharp watch on the young officer, whom he su ted of knowing him. Finally the genera] ordered his return to Trenton, ‘gnd called m the young officer in question and a ¢ouple of oons to escort him beyond the ad- Vance guards, _. The officer took a position at his side and they . away, the two dragoons following behind. _ Dick’s heart almost ceased to beat. He felt as- sured that he was known to the officer, and how the interview was to terminate he knew not. _. When alone upon the road the spell of silence was Seoken by the young officer, who, turning to the spy, “Young man, do you know you are running a : erous risk?” - * Dick’s face poy red and white by turns. - "You see I know you, Delaware Dick,” he con- ™ ued, “T thought so, at least,’’ answered our hero; “ but why did you not expose me?” " _ “YT am under obligations to you, Dick,” he an- _ #wered. ‘For what?” + “TH tell you at another time, if we should ever meet again.’ _ * Delaware Dick was pomp astounded. Here was a bit of a mystery to him. _ The officer who gave his name and rank as Cle- _ ment Fairmont, captain of dragoons, soon left our hero to pursue his way alone, and ponder over the mystery that stood between him and the ignoble death of a spy. _ Lord Cornwallis continued to advance down the Delaware in hopes of finding a good camping-ground, _ where he could wait until the ice bridged the river _ for him to cross over in pursuit of Washington. __ As the day wore away the sky became overcast W Bray, eecy clouds, and a chill, damp wind e north-west threatened a stormy December sight, This made the British gen-ral more anxious 40 go into camp early, and so he sent a party of cav- - = under one Colonel Von Baden to select a suit- able place somewhere in advance. p __ Von Baden had not gone over two miles when he _ was attacked by a band of partisan rangers that _ were encamped in a log cabin, which stood on the roadside on the margin of a deep, dense woods. A p engagement ensued, when superior numbers amphed, and the patriot rangers were driven off, ‘al of Von Baden’s men were killed and wound- and one of the provincials was slain and left on @ field of battle.” The badge found upon the hat the latter told that he belonged to that noted’ band of Scarlet Wings, the followers of Delaware up went into camp in the edge He took possession of the cabin Scarlet Wings had been ensconced, and . ae < a y : wallis co a. eee ‘middle of the mind. They carried him back to England, and, in Delaware Dick. established his own quarters there. He found things quite comfortable in the deserted hut. The building was provided with an immense fire-place and wide- mouthed chimney, On the hearth a roaring fire was burning, and diffusing its warm glow throughout the whole room. The hath a fire-place was crammed with huge logs of hickory, that crackled and roared with a peculiar, cheerful song. That the rebel band had intended to remain at the cabin during the night was evident from more than one fact: upon a rude table at one side were some smoking viands and a deck of cards. In one corner was a huge Re of wood, that had been re- cently prepared for the night. In the bottom of the pile was an immense back-log that, in addition to the D iceg already in the fire, would have lasted a week, Cornwallis was much pleased with his prepared uarters, and at once made himself at home. He irst, however, had the building searched from cel- lar to garret for lurking enemies; but finding the coast clear, he divested himself of his military trap- ping, which he hung upon the wall, and then ar- ranging his camp-chair, he seated himself before the cheery fire. After supper had been served throughout the camp, and darkness had set in, Cornwallis dispatch- ed an orderly to summon his generals to a brief council in the cabin. In half an hour the generals were all present, The wind rose, and, howling through the woods, rattled the clap-béards on the roof of the cabin, and rumbled in the great chimney. The fire ree ta and roared on the hearth, and the light danced and quivered over the staid and sober faces of the generals as they gazed into the crackling flame. Thoughts of the dear ones at home far beyond the sea were brought up in the minds of the officers, as they gathered around the hearth. Faces were con- jured up before their mental vision in the dancing mes, “My lord,” said a subordinate, addressing Corn- wallis, “I am of the opinion that a rigorous winter is setting in. That wind blows like it.” “TI hope you are a false prophet, general,” re- plied Cornwallis, ‘for it would put an end to our victorious campaign, and give the enemy a chance to recruit his strength.” “Perhaps, in the present destitute condition of the American army, a severe winter would deci- mate its ranks more than our guns,” said an officer. “All but that,’ replied a fellow-soldier; “them Americans can stand more hunger, fatigue, and de- feat than any people on the face of the earth.” “Tl admit,” said Cornwallis, “that they have fortitude and endurance; but nature is somewhat the same in all men, and that there is a point where these attributes of brave men cease to be a virtue there is not a doubt. If we are to believe any of the reports that reach us through deserters, they can not hold out much longer. And now, what I wish to say is this: 1 have revised my plans of operation. I have determined to remain here until the Delaware freezes over, then cross into Pennsylvania, and at- tack Washington. If successful—and thereis not a doubt but we will be—I shall march at once upon Philadelphia, where the rebel Congress is now sit- ting, With my forces divided up and posted at Trenton, Princeton, New Brunswick, and other points, I will be enabled to hold the Jerseys against any uprising element. In fact, a corporal’s guard can maintain the peace here now. There is nothing to be feared from Washington, for he has been com- pletely —— I consider the revolt of the col- onies virtually at an end in the Jerseys; and the ex- pedition forming under Burgoyne in Canada, will soon seaport Lake Champlain and all the upper country.” “Then it is to be understood that we remain here till the river freezes over?” “Yes; we are in good quarters, and occupy a po- sition that will lead Was n to think we have gone into winter-quarters.” Cornwallis’s plans were approved by his generals, and, after some regulations for the army been completed, the council broke up, and most of the generals sought their own quarters. Three, however, remained, and the deck of cards left by the patriots on the table suggesting a means of pastime, the four took their position around the table and began playing. For a seat, two of the players rolled the uge “back-log’’ lying in the corner out into the oor. Over the cards and a bottle of rare old brandy pur- loined from a peste cellar, the quartette p the hours pleasantly. Ever and anon, the fire was replenished from the fuoply in the corner. This was kept up until all but the huge “‘ back-log,”’ upon which the officers were seated, had been burned. Without, the cold wind still frolicked in wild glee. Huge, damp snow-drops filled the air. By ten o'clock, the whole camp was wrapt in si- lence and slumber. Only the weary pace of the cloaked sentinels outside, and the merry indulgence of the officers at head-quarters, broke the dead hush of the rune yf hour. About midnight the three generals took their de- parture for their own Pore ae leaving the com- mander alone. He wheeled his chair around before the fire, and, stretching out his limbs, gazed reflect- ively into the glowing embers, The stern, martial bearing of his face told of the inner workings of the heart and mind. That he was fighting over his bat- tles and recounting his victories, was evident from the wild flash of the eye and the smile of triumph that, now and then, broke the rigid auster'ty of his compressed lips, Vague thoughts. came up in his : the quivering mass of fire before him, a thousand forms seemed gathering to do honor to the great conqueror. The fire burned low. Only a subdued light from the glaring coals, that the general’s capricious mhad had peopled with lords and ladies come to do him honor, pervaded the room. Shadows at length be gan to gather like lurking assassins in the corners, and behind the tables and chairs. The thoughts of the general finaily grew slug The effect of the brandy, the warm room, and the seductive silence began to draw him into the gentle —— of slumber. He fell into a drowsy stupor— a doze. The fire burned lower. The shadows deepened. The wind whistled around the cabin, and banged the boards on the roof. Still my lord slept on in his chair. Suddenly there was aslight noise in the room; but Cornwallis did not hear it. Had he been awake however, he would have seen a portion of the end of the huge back-log lying in the middle of the floor, pushed cautiously outward, revealing a black cavity within. And from the darkness of this cavity he would have seen a human face peer out—a face that was aglow with a wild and desperate look. It wasa youthful face, and as the gray eyes swept the sur- rounding room and saw the general asleep in his chair, the lithe, active form of a man glided, like a worm from its chrysalis, out of the hollow * back- log.” Then rising to his feet, the fearless young Stranger drew a pistol, and pointing it at the gene- ral’s heart, said, in a low tone: ““Wake up, my lord, you are my, prisoner.” And the Britich general, starting from his sleep, found himself face to face with the redoubtable young patriot, Delaware Dick! CHAPTER III. BEARDING THE BRITISH LION. “SrLence, general, or by the Jove of liberty I wi send a bullet through your heart,” said our hero, ¢ Cornwallis rose to his feet and faced his enemy ax the dark, murderous tube leveled at his heart by steady hand. . There was a look in Delaware Dick’s eyes and meaning in his tone that seemed to transfix th eneral and hold him under a terrible fascination fie started back with surprise and terror, his eyér fixed upon the face of his enemy, as if held there by some diabolical enchantment. “ve got the advantage of you, my lord,” con- tinued the young spy, *‘and Iintend to hold it. One word loud enough to attract the attention of the 1ard I shall take as a signal for me to fire.. Your eath would be a great victory to the American peorse at this time; but I don’t want to take it, un- — you force me to it as an only means to saye my- self.” Cornwallis gradually recovered his composure as he became more fully cognizant of his situation. He recognized the face before him as that of the reputed British spy, Abel Day. He saw now t he had But how had He ran his eyes been deceived by this young parti he gained admittance to the cabin around the room. He saw the i shell of a log on the floor, and its open end. It told the startling story—the young enemy had been concealed therein. The British general felt for his hae’ A sword, for- getting that it hung upon the wall. But when he found he was unarmed, he inwardly cursed the fate that had kept them from eo oe the great log u on the fire as they had the rest of the pile of wo He saw through the whole of the young spy’s game. It had been well played. The occupation of the cab- in by the Scarlet Wings, the roaring fire on the hearth, the supply, of fuel, including the big log in the corner—all had been arranged for the purpose of the spy working out his designs. His calculationg had been well made, for nothing but mere conjec- ture could have led him to believe that the army would encamp there. Cornwallis did not know bim- self, an hour before he stopped, that this cabim would shelter him during the night, “Sir,” he finally said ee e spoke lew, “you are a rebel spy—your life wi pay the forfeit.” ‘Tam Delaware Dick, my lord,” answered the un- daunted young patriot, ‘“‘brother of Prodigal Tom, the Tory wey Cornwallis shuddered inwardly. The name was familiar to him, and he knew that he confrorted a foe worthy of his own steel. The situation was a critical one to both the general and the neh At | moment a sokiier or an officer was liable to enter the cabin, when, to Dick, escape would be out of the question; and at the same time he resolved, if discovered, that Cornwalias should die first. To the latter the situation was humiliating in the extreme—he, an English lord and general, a captive in the hands of a boy, and that, too, in the very midst of his own army. To Dick’s last retort he said: “Put down that weapon, if you expect the least mercy, sir.”’ “Texpect none—I ask none. General, you are my risoner, At least, you are in my power for the time ing. If I die, you shall die with me. I will never be taken alive. This I swear by the Most High. You have the power to save my life and your own too. I will not remove this pistol from your heart. till you comply with my request.” A contemptuous sneer passed over the face of the” British general, He glanced toward his sword, then with his eye he measured the distance between him and the door. in his situa’ ty L , . There was nothing flattering The wind whistled, and the tled sharp 3 »
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4 “My lord,” continued Delaware Dick, and his face assumed a more desperate and determined look “every moment I stand here increases my danger. i desire to leave this cabin.” “Ah,” said the general, sarcastically, “you now Pypowe to ask tarms of me.” *T shall ask that you pass me beyond your lines.”’ The general reflected. “You must think I am a cowardly poltroon,”’ he finally said. “IT think no such thing, my lord; but you can see exactly how we are situated, and you have either got to die or else comply with my demands. Remember, delay is dangerous to you, as well as myself. The moment that door-latch is touched by one from the outside, I will fire if I die the next moment for it. I will not hesitate to give my life for yours in the cause of [i 7, After you have passed your lines, I will consider myself subject to capture, and, that I will have no further claim on your pro- tection. You know, general, as well as you stand there, that you are at my mercy, even though thou- sands of your men surround me, I mighteven shoot you down and then escape; but I wish to treat _you as aman worthy of honor, and show you that lam not without honor myself.” . i “You know too much to leave here alive,’’ said the general. “Very well; if I die, so shall you. You're without a@ weapon, and one movement or word will be your death-warrant. I have offered yuu fair and honor- able terms; and give you two minutes to accept oar refuse them.” Cornwallis knew that Delaware Dick would keep his word. He saw that he was as desperate as he was brave, and, burning with humiliation, the com- meander threw his cloak about his sho said: **Remember, Delaware Dick, that there is honor between enemies.” “I feel safe in trusting to your word; nor will I deceive you unless faith is first broken with me,’’ re- vlied Dick. “Then come," and the British general turned to he door. - , Delaware Dick took the commander’s right arm, vhile with his right hand he held his cocked pistol n his bosom. Thus the two passed out into the night. The wiud drove the snow and sleet into their faces; | but wich quick footsteps they passed along through | the camp that lay wrapt in silence and gloom, No one living would have believed that the haugh- ty Lord Cornwallis would ever have submitted to such humiliating terms with an enemy, in the heart of his own camp. But no one, save those who have been placed in similar circumstances, could form any idea as to what er would do were they brought face to face with death. Cornwallis was but mor- tal and the love of life strong within him. Were the order of things reversed, he would have done exactly It was the resort of a brave and des- perate enemy. On their wen down the road they were stopped several times by the guard, who was unab's to re- cognize the general in the darkness, but upon mak- ing himself known they were allowed to = on. Winally they passed the outermost picket, when Cornwallis said: “You are now beyond my lines.” “ Then good-night, my lord,’’ replied Dick, and the next moment he was hurryiag down the road at the os of his speed. ‘ urning with mortification and anger, the British general turned and wended his way back to his rters. Instead of sending a troop of horse after the daring young rebel, he resolved to keep the whole affair a secret that it might not becomea matter of history by his own confirmation. As soon as he reached the cabin he rolled the hollow “ back- log’ into the fire, that daylight might find no ves- mee of it to reproach him, or to remind his brother officers of the night’s adventure with the young ranger-spy, Delaware Dick. as the spy did. CHAPTER IV. DELAWARE DICK IN TROUBLE. THE more Cornwallis thought over his adventure with Delaware Dick, the more his feelings became worked up, and in hopes of capturing the young rebel, he dispatched one Captain Danton with twenty mounted men in the direction of Trenton, with or- ee to bring every man into camp they might find on e@ way. It was past midnight when Danton set out. The weather was cold and threatening. Clouds obscured the sky, and now and then a dash of snow and sleet made riding very di eable. Despite the inclem- ency of the weather, however, the British troopers ontinued on their way. They had gone about ten miles when they were net — man on horseback, who seemed to be in a sreat hurry. Danton halted him, and inquired: ** Whither away, sir horseman?’ “To Cornwallis's camp; but I see es are royal sroopers,’’ answered the man, exci ly. “Yes; and we have orders to arrest every man wo find,” replied Danton. ‘‘ But what are you going to Cornw about?” ‘*T understand the officers of the crown have offer- ed five hundred pounds for the capture of ‘ Delaware Dick,’ the—”’ ve Yes; I believe they have,’’ interrupted Danton; = ca ae Gin i Tookb alis 4 y, then, I, Dusen Too , royalist, will have ‘ahe reward.”’ st hati “Then you must have the “No; [haven't exactly go young rebel a prisoner." him in bonds; but I’ve me beyond | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ; —"e Bey F , : of his men, | had been seriously | got him cagec | for once. I ex ri | camp through this ugly weather. | good his capture would bring to the ders, and | | would harm a hair of | say these boys. did, i, He stopped an hour or two ago at the old Ben Hazen fern. ** You are sure of this? “Yes; Lam,” replied Tookbury ing with cold ane eraltomen’. Pr. he turned into the lane 7 aod knowing what an old re he is, I conchifled (© see who was goin’ to his house at that time o’ nig: r| I slipped up to the window nd seen old Hazen an Delaware Dick talkin’ in the parior. i “How far is it to Hazen's place?” asked Captain Danton. “About four miles off the Trenton nee ore miles from here. Prodigal Tom's off up tha’ Re somewheres, but, as I didn’t know where exac tly thought I'd gallop up to Cornwallis’s head-qua rs and obtain sauimance -. take, he young rebel, ’s likely to stay there mo - P Neel the ham § and I'll see that you get your re- ward,” said Danton. evi “By S exclaimed the Tory, “I'm in luck ro gh po ted to have to ride all the way to , his teeth chatter- I was on ther ‘ toward Hazen's; Tookbury turned about, and led the trooper in the | direction of Hazen’s farm. Captain Danton rode at the conversation the inestimable crown. his side, and, naturally enough, centered upon Delaware Dick, and the prisoner. | afraid an attempt would be iil to release ther “T never learned until recently,”’ said Danton, | “that Prodigal Tom, the Tory, an Dela the patriot, are brothers.” es “f heard that long ago,” answered Too ay ‘and they say Prodigal Tom is a warm friend of the king’s—that fhe took all of his father’s property af- ter the old man’s death, sold it, and, with the pro- ceeds, & mapped bn compan 4 rangers. hat’s why the him pro rf a Well, inal Tom ph Delaware Dick are both brave and desperate feltates said the captain. “I ve never seen either 0: em.” sae) I have seen Dick, but not Tom,” said Tookbury. “Neither of them is often seen. They seem to have a desire not to be personally known, or too conspicuous in the daylight; and, while they are ar- Seoret against. each other, I do not believe they each fae ® Rend. ‘Teoxtiny’ “All but that, captain,’ returne ; s fight each other at home, as the eg hoorgpehings will fight on the eon i They say them boys alers war contrary as mules— that Tom joined the British just because Dick es- oused the cause of the continentals. “Well, Tom is making it ively, 8 agg of the r partisans, I assure you,” sal anton. w thus the conversation ran on for some length time. ofthe little band of troopers rode slowly on through the dismal night toward the Hazen farm—so slow, indeed, that it was ee AOE EINE when they ar- ved in the vicinity of the farm, nthe "Hagens were already astir, for lights were shining from the windows. Ca fede Danton and Tookbury left the command a short way from the house, and crept forward to re- connate They had no difficulty in gaining a - tion the parlor-window, t ‘ough which they saw old man Hazen and his young net mene’ De- fore a roaring fire, & n conve i After havin studied he face of the latter for a few pamnses, anton plucked his companion aside, and thus addressed him: pe ‘** Are you sure that is Delaware Dick, Tookbury? ‘““T know it,’ was the positive answer of Tookbury. “Then I have seen him before.” ** Indeed ?”” ra gi: ~ him yostentay in 1 ait “Ah! he was there as a spy, . “He came with a dispatch from Colonel Rahl, at Trenton, No one mistrusted him of being anything else than a British courier.” ‘ “Oh! but he’s a sly one, captain.” “At any rate, he must not escape,” said Danto and he at once gave orders for his men to surroun the house. As nogn, “a this was done, he advanced and ra’ upon the door. : erp Hazen and his young poe started with an exclamation of surprise. A look of uneasiness shaded the face of the latter. Hazen arose, and ad- vancing to the door opened it, and demanded: *“ Who's abroad so early?” * “Soldiers of his Majesty, King of England,” was the response; “and we want the young rebel so- journing under your roof.” Turning to Dick, the old man exclaimed: “Fly, Dick, fly for your life!” “Too late; the house is surrounded,”’ said our Berd, who had seen the soldiers filing apast the win- ow, Captain Danton, and a number of soldiers led by the unprincipled Tookbury, burst into the room. Delaware Dick drew his trusty sword, placed his back against the wall, and, with the determination of selling his life dearly, awaited the result. The rash and headlong Tookbury, anxious to be the first to lay hands upon the young spy in hopes of claiming the reward offered for his capture, rush- ed in upon him; but his life paid for his temerity. He fell dead under a blow, cloven to the jaw. The sight of blood maddened the soldiers, and they pressed forward upon the young foe, A des- perate struggle ensued. The sword of the young oat flashed like gleams of lightning about_ his ead, and the red-coats fell in numbers at his feet. A giant's strength seemed wielding the deadly, wea- n,and for a while the youth held his enemies at bay ; pegs = length, he met with a misfortune that, decid- barrel of a soldier and snapped in two; and the next moment, he was overpowered and bound. But it had cost Danton dearly to take him. Three ware Dick, | e contest: his sword struck the heavy musket- | toleratedin astranger. He wandered about the besides Tookbury, lay dead, and fou, sg while after Dick’s ca) ; FEA prevailed in the Hazen residence; bu soon as quiet had been restored, Ca; te: patched a courier to Cornwallis with news of Dick's — capture, and for a company of horse ag an escort back to camp with He we spy by the patriot settlers. . yorne Courier had been absent less than an hour when he returned in hot haste with the startling jp’ telligence that Delaware Dick’s band of Wings was encamped at the end of the lane on the Trenton road. This gave Danton great uneasingg, and, had he not been incumbered with the wounded men, he would have attempted to reach camp by q circuitous route. But he was too much of a soldier * to desert his wounded, and so he resolved to fortig, himself in the Hazen house, and endeavor to hold f until assistance could be procured. og The Hazens protested against the occupan , their house, but in vain. Captain Danton promigag that they should suffer no injury or insult from hig command, so long as they made no attempt to en. danger his situation. = ~ Delaware Dick was disarmed and bound, then shut | up in @ little room without windows. “A single door | opening into the main apartment was the uly way f in or out of the room. seemed as if it been ay ; prepared on p se for a domestic prison. | A guard was stationed at the door to prevent ; ene h the prisoner Th : —€ » the sitting-room, an that th Da; dawned, cold chilly, } guards, pacin their beats outside, swore and shir. ‘ ered. Fear of an attack by the Scarlet Wings key them on the alert; and when it was suddenly report. ed that a horseman was & pecaching ram the rection of Woodvale church, all was wn in state of excitement. But when the horseman, er ing down the road at a snail's e, W COR as a harmless old Indian, bundled up blanke and s, all fears subsided, and turned to mirth and_ridicule. a ee “Tt is Doctor Dave, ae sonata the Jn. dian drew rein and dismou: in front of the hou “* And who's Doctor Dave?” asked Danton, ‘‘A famous old Indian doctor, who has been tray, eling up and down the Delaware these forty years — administering to those who have faith with no lit 4| 21] 7? : tie ‘Perhaps he can help my wounded men,” said the '} captain. : | ® Herbs are his medicines, where the laying-on-of- hands, as some call it, fails toreach the case.” “Well, he’s coming in,” said Di tom, “and it wil do no harm, if it does no good, to on him for as, sistance ”’ oF 7 Doctor Dave moved slowly and cautiously. the front door, his eyes a tly nev e path before 4 ; required. J: His hair was white; his face furrow slight and infirm. ‘* They tell me you are a doctor, old man,” Capt Danton said, when he had been seated befor fire. a ; & = in an nodded his head, as he stretched out his thin y hands to the warm glow of the fire, © “We have some wounded men here,” continued the officer, “and if you can aid them, I would like # for you to do so,” ie | aving warmed his feet and hands, Doctor Da signified his readiness to attend to the British cer’s request, and was at once conducted into room where the wounded men lay. The latter greeted the old man with a look of tempt; but red-man was to such salutai and at once went about his work in a manner was calculated to me gg confidence in the ) of the spectators and wounded troopers. He fully dressed the wounds, applied some salve tothe — cuts and ointment to the bruises; and soon all but + one were fo: to confess great relief from treatment. The exceptional case, however, wasa — man suffering of a contusion of the brain; but the t old doctor did not despair of relteving him. When 4/ all else had failed, he seated himself, and taking the suffering man’s head upon his lap, began , hands inslow and passes over his head from _ each ear to the crown. i} At first there were some inclined to scoff at this * art of the red-man’s treatment as a superstitious | cantation; but when the agonized of he. | i trooper subsided, and he sunk into a quiet slumber — + under the influence of the old doctor's mesmeric touch, they looked upon him as one possessed of great and unnatural powers. ; jem When the wounded soldiers had all been cared for in a satisfactory manner, the old doctor was taken r ’ \ into the kitchen by Mr. Hazen and given a i ed ee eR ege of the house, an no er to the | Hazens, he took liberties which would not have been from room te room—w and d with eyes and senses alae seen hereafter.
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nr y CHAPTER. V. PRODIGAL TOM APPEARS. For hours the old Indian sat silently smoking and nodding drowsily before the cheery glow of the fire. The wounded soldiers still easy under the relief he had given them, Meanwhile Captain Danton waited patiently for the return of his courier with an escort from Corn- wahis. fears of the Scarlet Wings had been in- creased when he learned that the negro cow-boy had not returned with Pat from the fiekl. He believed _ he had been sent away to raise the alarm, and brin ' suecor to the relief of Delaware Dick. But bot Hazen and Pat denied sending him away. They stated that fear of the soldierskept him away. us the hours wore away, and as noon approach- acup of coffee, some buttered rolls, fried ham and warm biscuits were placed upon a tray by the _ good Mrs, Hazen, who requested that the same be - conveyed to Delaware Dick, as he had had no break- fast. Captain Danton, whose gallantry and human- {ty added much to his par pet. f Dargie sag com- plied with her request, and with the provision passed nto the prison-room. Ina moment he returned with the tray and pro- vision untouched. His face wore a look of bitter ‘lisappointment, and his hands trembled. sy Why have you brought the food back?” Mrs. Hazen asked. ** Because, my good woman, there is no one in that woom to éat it. elaware Dick has escaped.”* He put the tray down, and going out gave the alarm. In a moment the wildest excitement pre- ailed. Hazen and all of his servants were arrested for complicity in his escape. The old Indian doctor, still drowsing by the fire, *vas the only person that received the news with in- difference. Dick had esca by wa 9 hole through the floor of his prison and down. “Who knows but what the er that crept out ‘of the cellar this morning and failed to return from e field was Delaware Dick himself?’ asked a sol- of the cellar, having cut let himself ier. gas Impossible,” replied Danton; ‘“‘he was a geruine negro. Search was at once instituted for the escape“ pris- oner. The afternoon was passed in a vain tearch for him. In the meantime, Doctor Dave had stolen as silently away as an Arab, His disapprarance caused considerable unfavorable comment among the troopers. Evening Sp proaraes: and no word frcm ci.mp had yet been received. Danton resolved to tetr m under cover of the ht. He was already nearing to depart when a dozen horsemen drew vp ‘ efore the door. They were Tories, and led by ta/ notorious Prodigal Tom, brother of Delaware Dick. Danton and his men were rejoiced to meet the young Tory who, being in a hurry. v¢fused to dis- mount, but, in the gray of the wiate’ evening, held a short conversation with the capirs1. They talked _ about Dick and his escape. eg ec * “TY could have told you, captain,” said Tom, “that not but an iron or stone prisun would hold Dela- ' ware Dick. xe knowr. lira from a child, and should I ever capture him, J. will keep a line of bayo- nets around him and weteaful eyes upon him, until =T know he is in a place of safety, which place, lam afraid, is pot short of tue grave.” “T am satisfied he had assistance in getting away from us,” said Danton, ‘I have Hazen and his ser- vants under arrest, accused of aiding him.” “They might have helped him,” replied Tom, “though I doubt it very much; and I would not do he Hazens violence on strength of my suspicions, _ were Lin your place.” : : % ter some further conversation, Prodigal Tom and his band departed, going north. “Brother against brother,” said Captain Danton, I never heard two voices sound so near alike as @iose of Delaware Dick’s and Prod Tom's, I could not see Tom’s features in the dark, but if they emble Dick's as does his voice, one might easily ‘be taken for the other.” a “Who knows but they are one and the same?” said a soldier. nie “Noone knows it; for such a thing is preposterous. But hark!” Even as he spoke, the report of firearms smote upon the ears of the party. The sound came from tne north, and that Prodigal Tom was in trouble Danton had not a doubt, and in a moment he was ‘moving at the head of his men to the assistance of his friends. ‘ As they were thundering down the road in the young star-licht, a horseman. wrapped in a blanket, Swept apast them like the wind, “Did you see that, captain?’’ asked a trooper. % been blind not to; and by the royal crown it was that old Indian doctor! Boys, there’s somethi wrong about that Doctor Dave—he is in league wit Delaware Dick!” ae CHAPTER VL THE BATTLE OF TRENTON, GeNERAL WASHINGTON waited with some impati- ence the return of Delaware Dick from the British eamp. It was not the want of information from the enemy's quarters that made him uneasy and impa- _ tient, but fear of Dick’s safety. His men around him _.did not fail to notice the feeling of unrest that agitat- ed his breast; but none of them know the real cause, for none of them knew that Delaware Dick, the Wing- of-the-Wind, was one of his most important spies. On Christmas-eve, however, Dick returned, to the general’s great relief and joy, after an absence of two days aua nights, | | an Delaware 5 Dick. When alone with the young patriot in his private room, the commander said: “Well, Dick, I had about given you up as lost this e ° “T have had some close figuring, general, since I left you,” Dick answered, ‘I have not only been in the enemy’s camp, but a prisoner in their hands, A party of troopers captured me at Ben Hazen’s house, d me in prison there; but with the assist- ance of that mysterious ‘power behind the throne,’ Iwas enabled to effect my oars But, genera since my departure I have learned that Colonel Rahli is stationed at Trenton with about fifteen hundred German troops, and he is in mortal fear of you. But Cornwallis sent him word that he need not fear you —that a corporal’s guard would hold you in check, This I learned by acting as self-constituted courier from Rahl to Cornwal is.” “What is the strength and disposition of the rest of the British army under Cornwallis?” asked the” general, “Some are at Princeton, some at New Brunswick, some at other points, and one division under his own immediate command. This I received from his own lips. Anticipating his movements, I concealed my- self, with the assistance of my men, in a hollow *back-log,’ in a deserted cabin on the Trenton road. We had a pretty good idea that Cornwallis would en- camp at that point; and as the cabin was the only building in the vicinity, we felt satisfied the general would cecupy it. To make it more attractive, we built a roaring fire on the hearth, taking caré to put on a ‘back-log’ that would last a week. Then we laid in a big supply of wood, in the bottom of which, with ends cunningly blocked up, was placed the hol- low log in which I was ensconced, Sure enough, the pot camped right there, and Cornwallis took pos- —- a Se gg are what su ned a eaee sanguine ho , he ca a@ council t t. heard it all. sa: “Then you learned the course he will pursue?” said the commander, his countenance beaming with joy. Vyes: as soon as the Delaware freezes over he will cross into Pennsylvania, rout you and march upon Philadelphia, He has no doubt of his ability to do this, for he considers you vanquished,” “Let him remain over-confident,”’ said Washing- ton, ‘for self-assurance often begets defeat in time of war. I shall strike a blow unexpected to him, To- morrow is Christmas-day—a at holiday to the German people—and as the Hessians stationed at Trenton have been assured that they have nothing to feur of me, they will doubtless give up to festivi- ties and merry-making, and finish up with a drunken carousal at night. Then will be my time to strike; and should we succeed in carrying the town, our vic- tory will be, in a measure, owing to you, my boy; for without the information you have given me, I would never have dared to undertake such a move- ment. But something has got to be done to remove the geo and despondency into which the public mind has fallen, owing to our late reverses. Dick, are gon acquainted with the country around Tren- nf “T know it to perfection, general,” was the an- Swer, “ Here, then, is a mee Will you give me some in- formation regarding the country back of the town aud along the river below it, say, for ten miles?” “With pleasure, general,’ and Delaware Dick gave the information in a clear, comprehensive manner. After some further conversation Washington dis- missed his young SPY. and sat down to complete his arrangements for the Christmas party at Trenton; and thus he spent most of the entire night. But he was astir early on the morning of the 25th, as were the soldiers a out the camp that an attack was to be made on the Hessians at Trenton. Of the splendid achievement that followed on the terribly cold night of December 25th, all our school histories tell us. It was a complete surprise to the British and their German emissaries—the advance of Cornwallis’s army holding Trenton, and Rahl, the commander, was among the prisovers taken. He was mortally wounded; and before retiring again to the Pennsylvania side of the river, Washington, ac- companied by Delaware Dick and two of his aids, visited the wounded man. When they entered the | house and were admitted to the presence of the stricken colonel, they found a surgeon and a young British officer in attendance upon him. Washington saluted them, not as a conqueror, but as a generous and kind-hearted fellow-man. ‘The young officer ad- Me mpgs toward Dick, and, taking him by the hand, said: “*Good-evening, Richard Melinott!” Dick started at the words. It had been many a day since he had heard his right name spoken: and coming, as it did, from the lips of a British officer it filled him with surprise. He fixed asearching look upon the officer's face. He had seen the face before. but could not recall the time and place when and where it was. <a you have the advantage of me,” our hero re- ied. “You have forgotten i oe: Clement Fairmont, pals escorted you beyond Cornwallis’s Jines, the oth- er day?” “Not at all, captain!” exclaimed Dick, as a light of recognition flashed in his eyes. Then the two withdrew into an adjoining room and conversed. “You have won a signal victory to-night, Dick,” Fairmont said. “Tt was a glorious victory, captain,” returned our hero, enthusiastically. “TY presume your visit to our camp had something | to do with it,” observed the inng = aire. “Tt is a mystery to me, ca " said Dick, eva- | sively, “‘ why you ever permitted me to leave your lines as you did, unless you have not the cause of your king at heart,” The young officer smiled, “Tam loyal to my king, Dick, as far as my heart will allow me to be,” he said, toying with the hilt of his sword, “But, Dick, I have known you some | time, and why shouldn't I voes Eee have won the | heart of her towhom I am betroti*d.”’ Dick started as though a cansen had been dis- charged near his ear, is face colored, and a look slightly touched with scorn passed over it, “Captain Fairmont,” he exclaimed, “‘ you speak | in riddles.” ; for it had become known through= Before the captain could answer, one of Washing- ton’s aids announced their readiness to depart from the house, and as Dick turned to the door, lcirmont said, in an undertone full of strange meaning: “Never mind, Richard Melinott; I may soon de mand honorable satisfaction of yeu.”’ Dick’s face grew almost livid; but the presence 0 Washington prevented him from replying to Fair mont as his feelings dictated. A parole was made out for Captain Fairmont, a well as the rest of the officers capa, then Wash ington and his friends left the house and rejoined the army. CHAPTER VII. A ROGUE’S PLOT AND A PATRIOT’S REVENGE. “Broa parding, massa, but the young missus wish- es to see you.” Delaware Dick raised his eyes, A darkey, with hat in “hand, stood by the roadside, in front of a tall wooden heongry known as the Half-way a fo Inn, It was rather rbidding-looking and Wing-of-the-Wind eyed the gin f with evident mistrust. He had always heard that the keeper of the Half-way Inn was a violent Tory, and thought it rather strange that he should be wanted there by his wife. In fact, Dick had become a little suspicious, He had just escaped a very network of dangers. Having made a ge at Melross farm with he had kept it at imminent hazard, only to learn that Agnes was not Richard Melross’s daughter but his niece, and that she was soon to return to Eng- land. He was sick at heart over this separation; and had been, too, unfortunate enough to lose ip his hard run for life from British Bill's gang, the little memorandum-book in which her new was written, It was riding slowly onward after his escape from Bill, and another race with a squadron of dragoons, that he was arrested by the sound of the negro’s voice. “The young mistress?’’ the spy exclaimed. ‘‘ What does she want?” “Don’t know, massa; she jist come here little while ago, and seeing you come up the road, told me to tell you dat she want to sce you. I don’t megn ole missus; I mean Miss Agnes Melross, I foes, She in de house,” Without another word Delaware Dick dismounted, and, giving the reins to the darkey, approached the house. He felt satisfied that the black told the truth, although it seemed impossible for Agnes to have come to the inn since their parting at tho Hawk's Nest. He was admitted to the Louse by the innkeeper’s wife, and, as he crossed the threshold, two men posse from behind the door, and seizing him, pin- ioned his arms at his side, while a third man appear- ing, proceeded to disarm him, ‘Caught at last, you infernal young rebel!” tho iupeeper hissed. “It was a clever thing that I knew of your love for Miss Agnes Melross, and that there was a witness to your interview at the Hawk's Nest.. I'll give you free lodgings for a while, my fine fellow.” _ He was at once conducted up a pair of stairs and into a small, gloomy apartment from which there seemed no escape, save by the way he entered, _ “Stay in there, my fa cavalier,” said Ben Dar- ling, the innkeeper, ‘till I_can send word to Corn- wallis of ys capture. He's offered a reward, L understand, for your head, cold or hot.” “Just so,” thought our hero, as the heavy door closed upon him; “but, in the first place, I was a © fool for being entrapped, and 1 suppose I will have to take the consequences. Still, when that nigger mentioned Agnes’s name as he did, I couldn’t help but believe him.” Pondering over the matter, Dick glanced around the room. <A bed in cne corner and a long wooden bench constituted the supply of furniture. There was no window in the walls; but a small, square hole, intended as such, had been cut in the side facing the road. It was not over eight inches square, and was the only source of light furnish the room. Dick walked to this opening and gazed out. Thr first thing his eye fell upon was the treacherou darkey leading his horse into the stable across th road. He glanced down the highway, and disco ered a carriage coming up toward the inn. A drive in livery occupied the front box, while a colerea footman was perched upon the rear seat, Alto- gether, it was a stylish and aristocratic turnout for that day; and, as it drew mearer,the prisoner saw | that it was an ancient affair, whose gilded panels bore the English coat-of-arms and other figures or heraldry emblazoned upon them. This convinced him that it belonged to some old Englishman, and, no doubt, a royalist, who adhered to the ancient carriaze asa relic of the pristine glory of bis house with the devotion of an cld friend. He kept his | eves upon it, feeling almost certain that it bore — | some British general or royai colonial officer bwt--
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contained only an old man and a vailed woman. The carriage turned in and stop in front of the inn. The driver and footman both dismounted, and while the former was engaged in watering the horses, the latter opened wide the carriage-door, The old mau got out, straightened his limbs, and be- gan pacing to and fro in front of the house. He was a fussy old gentleman, in knee-breeches, silken hose, and shoes with golden buckles. After parad- ing the length of the door-yard a time or two, he neues into the carriage again. eanwhile the lady remained closely vailed, but as the driver mounted his seat and touched up the horses, a gust of wind swept through the carriage, and, throwing back the vail, revealed to the aston- ished gaze of Delaware Dick the lovely face of his betrothed, Agnes Melross, gazing toward him from the carriage window. A cry rose to the young patriot’s lips, but before his tongue could give utterance to it, the carriage in his darling Agnes passed from view down the road. Sick almost at heart, he was about to turn aside, when he happened to see a horseman approaching at a slow, swinging © pe , from the direction of Trenton, This held attention, and closely scan- aing the stranger, he tried to make out who he was. But in this he failed. He saw that the man was dressed in a citizen’s suit of home-spun; but, for all this, there was a military air about his deportment that convinced Dick that he was upon some official duty for either the patriot or royal cause. As he came nearer, Dick saw that he was going to stop at the inn; aud had he been certain of the man's friendliness to the cause of freedom, he would have warned him of danger, as he could easily have made himself beard. Being ignorayt, however, of his political sentiments, he remained still. The man rode up to the door of the Half-way Inn, dismount- ed, an ving his horse into the charge of a man, ordered watered and fed; then he entered the ouse, Dick saw no more, and turning from the window he seated himself upon the bench and gave way to mental reflections. He could hear the murmur of voiees in the room below, and as they gradually thd louder, and some of the words audible, he bent is ear and listened. He soon discovered that there was a difference of opinion between the host and his guest, and words that had at first seemed charged with the animation of a friendly dispute, finally came pitched in tones of anger and rage, The epi thets of Tory and rebel were exchanged in the heat of fury and passion, Then followed the sounds of a lively scuffle. Blows and oaths resounded from cel- lar to oy se. The rush and trample of feet, the crash and fall of furniture, and the yells of the com- batants and screams of a woman shook the house to its very foundation. Dick knew that the stranger was a patriot and had been entra like himself; and he fairly chafed in apirit to think that he was powerless to aid him. The sounds of the conflict lasted, however, but a few mo- ments when a ringing yellfrom a dozen throats an- nounced the victory of the Tories, And pompmens the sound of footsteps and fierce, angry voices were heard co’ up the stairs. A key was inserted in the prison-door and turned. The door was then pushed open and the man dragged into the room with Dick. “There, you infernal big rebel,” hissed the inn- keeper, whose face had been pounded almost in- toa shapeless mass, “lay there till the devil, your master, comes after you.” Then the door was closed and locked upon them. Dick glanced at the form of the stranger. He saw that he was a man of powerful frame. His face was smoothly shaven, yet bore the marks and scars of many @ rough encounter. It was brown, almost, as an Indian’s, but wore the expression of a brave and fearless character, Turning, as the door closed te him, the huge stranger smote the heavy oaken door with his pon- derous fist, and in a tone as deep and thunderous as the roar of a lion, exclaimed: “Curse you, you Tory fiends! by all the saints, liv- ing and dead, I will tumble earth upside down but what I have revenge on you! I'll show you that Old Sanguinity is not a coward nor a suckling, if ten of you did get the best of him in a hand-to-hand skrim- , urrah for Liberty! George Washington! and the Continental Congress!” and the giant gave three lusty cheers that seemed to issue from iron lungs. ““Stranger,”’ said Delaware Dick, advancing and taking the man by the arm, ‘“‘you are not alone in here. “T am not, by the prophets of old,” he exclaimed, his expression of rage and anger melting into a look of surprise and astonishment. “It is so dark in here, andI was so infernal mad that I could see nothing. Who are you?” ““Delaware Dick.” “Great shockin’!"’ burst from the man’s lips; “* Delaware Dick, the Wing-of-the-Wind, and in such a plight? Giveme your hand, Delaware, for I’m d in’ glad to meet you; but I’d heap ruther it was upon a victorious battle-field. Delaware Dick,” added the stranger, in a low, earnest tone, ‘‘I am Old Sanguin- ity, and when my enemies will stand square before me, there is nary God if I can’t whip just six of them at once, and oe * up all oY: don’t expect to di> in this or laware—no, by the gods of Mount Olympus, ! I will live, in spite of fate, to crush into Be to light perdition’s fires with, the face of the British captain that struck me in the room be- low. Yes, I do solemnly swear, that I will extermi- nate that wre aud—hur-rah for Trenton! George Washington! and Liberty!” ©5 it drew nearer, he was surprised to see that it | “Ts there a British officer below?” asked Dick. * Yes, and aoree or dent os “Isaw none when I en I he come since I was put in here; and friend Ganguint’?: their presence our situation a rather hopeless one."’ . We're c all the saints, e Rock, that the morning’s su that is true, Dick; but I swear b ood down to Plymout on n will find me dead, or n did _ ey le. Tl The curse ©: n- a withering, blighting over my head, as Sam smite them hip and thigh. | ity shall fall upon them like scourge.’ The prisoners now proceeded to é situation. The room in Which they found Chemneel 4 was not large, though as firm and compactly bu as if it had been intended expressly for a yay Aside from the door and the little square hole in t “2 , wall, there was no other opening in the apartmen H | while from the loft Boor. to the roof, at the lowes side, it was about twelve feet. L inn was directly under them, and thus the pr ees could hear the clinking of glasses and the voices the drinkers. : The hours dragged along, and finally darkness folk. Some coarse food and a pitcher of water were ro up to the prisoners. A guard was stationed + ne head of the stairs; another was stationed outside in front of the house, and one out in the road. it that all Thus guarded, Captain Carl Von Coellu felt _ necessary precaution had been taken to insure them red. They must have | else out of here. I'll tear the accursed log-pile down | » their | ‘ oxantine ee | lowed by his men, The bar-room cf the | against surprise; and resting under this conviction, | - ; res he and several of his men accepted an invitation t spend the evening with ree ng oe host, in ting the capture of Delaw They took os ion of the bar-room. Dees brought up a supply of the best liquors in his cellar, and then a genera! indulgence prevailed until — was announced, when Captain Von Coellu ani 4 men passed out into the dining-room, pag be 3 t ~ arms, their ya) and unfinished pipes lying upo' e bar-room table. hie meal spread was a sumptuous one compared with the rude fare of a soldier; and the Hessian yn tain and his men tarried long at the board; but D4 vss the half-inebriated gourmands at last return the bar-room to finish their pipes, they were not a little surprised to find that some one had been — ring with their effects. A full bottle of Madeir he captain’s sword and a brace of fine pistols a been spirited away. The guard stationed outside swore that no one had even looked inside the bar- room since the party had gone out to supper. captain and his men, as well as their host, were cer- rs that no one had entered the room from a back way, as they would have to pass through the kitchen to XG so; and since no one could descend from above, nor rise up from gent t A: ree sa ig of the articles involved in no little mystery. a over the loss of his sword, the captain lunged out into the night, followed by his men with Bred bayonets, and began a close and thorough search of the premises. They shouted and swcre furiously, and with as much incaution as though they were miles ee an Fate be a rage, Old To add to their indignation and rage, - ity set up a series of mocking yells and groans, which he kept up until the drunken cout been pro- voked to a feeling of oud violence. And turning suddenly, he started toward the house, exclaiming: “Tl be accursed if I don’t drink that rebel’s life- blood!” He disappeared in the bar-room. He was alone, and no one essayed to follow b*m. The host and the soldiers kept up their search out- side, and the big rebel prisoner his cries of derision up-stairs. Finally those outside were startled by the dull re- port of a pistol and a frightful in the bar- room. They all made a rush for the house. The tallow-dip that had beer left burning in the bar-room was now spluttering in its brazen sconce. and giving but a dim, flickering light. A thousan weird, fantastic figures seemed writhing and postur- ing on the floor and shaking their grotesque forins | upon the wall. The smell of burnt powder pervaded the room. A soldier, rushing headlong into the apartment, ran plump against something suspecded from the ceiling. It was a human form, swaying to and fro. A cry of agony burst from every soldier’s lips, for as he glanced up at the face, upon whick wes *rozen all the repulsive horrors of death, he recogni ed that of Captain Von Coellu! CHAPTER VII. THE BLOW OF AN UNSEEN HAND. Caprarin Von Coettv was dead. The purplecolor of his face; the protruding tongue; the starting eye- balls, and the round bullet-hole in his forehead, were evidence of a fact that was undeniable. The slip- noose of a small rope encircled his neck, the other end being made fast to a cross-piece that had been nailed to the underside of two of the joists. He had been hung, and then shot by the hand of unknown orrhe sold stood hi with t 2 soldiers speechless with terror, gazing with distended eyes around them and upon the life- less form before them. But, arousing at length, as from a frightful dream the body of Captain Von Coellu was cut down and laid out in the bar-room, Only the massive tread, and deep, complaining voice of the huge prisoner in the loft broke the a 1 stillness. The soldiers, now headed by Ben Darling, searching for the captain’s slayer. And every roo save that in which Delaware Dick and Old Sanguini- | ty were incarcerated—from cellar to garret, was ex- e ’ | | : Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. | nin | descended. It was the form of Old San | that the prisoners had fastened on the inside, warn— amined; but not one trace of an enemy could be fone body of Captain Van Coellu was laid out in bed-room, an the ligh e . kitchen wherein the host and bis royal assembled. A restlessn however, pervad spirits of all, =e some kept pacing in and out of the ere only those, in the kitchen heard a stifleq an, and the fall of a body be the na ea A k of horror conv every face, and, for a mo- aaa the astounded pare om “7 oe Speed ; Sergean ers seized a light, and, fo oe, Oe e entered the bar-room, where, jn the middle of the floor, they found a soldier iS Resi dead, with his head cloven to the jaw. _ ri “Oh God!” burst from the innkeeper’s lips; “he's been smitten down by that invisible hand! soldiers of the king!—you_ must leave here. have brought the curse of God into my house, before we are all slain.” bs Go deep, sonorous laugh ted mockingly upon ehetr oane: and the voice of Old Sanguinity 3 me mn like a thunderbolt from above. if Se ee vancie that infernal big rebel; let us 4 iate,” cried Sergeant Eukers, fierce with rage ang anger. The next moment, the sergeant stood alone, men, Jed by the infuriated Ben Darling, rushed into the hall, and Mes the rickety stairs. mer Alone in the subdued light of the bed-chamber, the officer gazed around. He lifted his eyes, only to he- _ hold the face of a man in the ceiling—the face of an avenging spirit! Then there was a flash as of across the face of the darkness—a livid eant fell dead. ve the form of a a dull blow, and the se m2 Then from the darkness a nity; in a moment, Delaware Dick stood at his sl the hand of the big rebel was a sword stained wit} blood—the sword of Captain Von Coellu, that haa disappeared from the table while the soldiers we; r. arrhe. Naundiek of the soldiers at the door u ed the two daring patriots that their escape w soon be discovered, and turning, they opened door, and plunged out into the night. Sentine] — challenged them—a blow followed, and the soldier sy This way, Delaware Richard,” ordered the rebel, leading the way across the road toward stable. i In a few minutes more, ee i were mounted ang — fleeing from the scene of th mats adventure, When Ben Darling and the soldiers forced their way into the prison-room, they were met with a ter. rible disappointment. The rebels had escaped, a broad plank in the floor being up told their way of — egress! There was the identical bottle that bad dis appeared from the table below, minus its contents, — The bed had been tumbled on to the floor, and the cord taken from the bedstead. A pe of a slip-noose at one end, and encircling the Nottie told how the wine, the sword, and istols had been purloined from the table. Furthe investigation revealed the startling fact that Capta: Von Coellu had been — with a piece of the ga rope. A noose had been ny over his head w under the opening; then he had been dra tp and shot, and before friends could reach th, room, the plank had been slipped back to its p and all ‘races of the source of his death concea d_ The fury of the Hessians and the host of the Half. way Inn knew no bounds; and when they fo that the sergeant, and the sentinel outin the r had fallen victims to the came transformed to madm of Y, A é ¢ en. to the door of the Inn and dism: ; er advanced to the door and without Vins ‘ sans dashed u ed. The le ceremony opened it and entered. a Prodigal Tom! Prodigal Tom!" burst from half a dozen throats in tones of wild delight. “Prodigal Tom,” said Ben Darling, advan to- ward the young Tory leader, ‘‘ why in heaven's name couldn’t you have come sooner?” Why so, Ben ang 2 Your rebel brother, Delaware Dick, was a prison- ? “ oe er in my house not over two hours ago, So was a big rebel, calling himself Old Sanguinity, and, friend Tom, Iam ashamed—”’ Eay “ A 3 \_— One word, friend Darling,” interrupted the par- tisan, ‘“‘was this big rebel, of whom you dressed in citizen’s clothing, and mounted upon a large, bay steed?” ‘“Even so, Prodigal Tom,”’ answered mine host, ** And he escaped ?”’ “With your brother, Delaware Dick.” ‘ A look of disappointment clouded Prodigal Tom's ‘ace. “Do you know who he was?” “Yes; and I am sorry, indeed, that he esca he was the notorious Virginia wagoner, General Argan!” fot CHAPTER IX. PRODIGAL TOM AT of tae oe Tom and his men were entertained right and courteously by the innkeeper, and day was just breaking when their entertainment was suddenly ar- rested by the cry: : “To arms! to arms! a body of provincial horse is upon the road:”’ “To your saddles. men! to your saddles!" shouted inn, and mounting Prodigal Tom, rushing out of the his horse. In a minute every man was in the saddle. Prodi- da soldier placed as a watcher by ped Bt t was removed from the bar-room to the friends now ed the — light- © man ro dee i as _" e. 5 < patriots’ vengeance, ihey oe ee In the heat of their fury, a band of Tory ‘ : . a . Tn | a ? Py, ece of it, eo. the neck of i -
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—_—— Delaware Dick. -_——-— ‘ gal Tom’s band numbered just twenty sabers, and a — fy 28 the body of provincials approaching consisted of but ten men, the Tory felt certain of an easy victory. The enemy soon made their appearance rather in- euttlously from the woods north of the inn, and beforo théy were aware of the proximity of foes, they received a volley from Prodigal Tom’s men, Sinzular as it may seem, however, not a patriot was touched; and without as much as slacking their speed, they charged the Tories. A sharp and deadly siruggle ensued, and fora moment it seemed that | victory would crown the efforts of the patriots; but the death of their leader turned the tide, and those that were not slain were taken prisoners. This victory addel new laurels to the fame of Prodigal Tom, and as the news of the conflict spread throuzh the country, his name added new terrors to the peace of the patriots. Ben Darling's inn now became converted into a nospital for both patriot and Tory wounded, and the innkeeper and his wife were iutrusted with their care, Fortunately for them, however, that old In- dian nomfd, Doctor Dave, came along soon after the fight, and being called in by Prodigal Tom, rendered 00} surgical aid to the suffering men. Pvodizal Tom left the inn shortly after the battle, ant about noon reached the British army under Cornwallis. When presented to the general in his private apartment, the young Tory appeared as though half doubtful of the reception that would be given him. ia the stern reticence of the man. Cornwal youth’s face with a look that manifested surprise; an | he even seemed to recoil from him, as impbnitive doubt had suddenly entered his mind. T° young partisan, however, appedred calm in "i> august presence of the English general, and -onducted himself in a Mt Been f yet formal man- ov, that seemed to relieve the stiff disciplinarian of 11; hesitation and reticent demeanor. * Prodigal Tom,’ he said, in measured tones, “it affords me pleasure to meet you for the first time, though to me, and in fact to your enemies, you are wellknown by reputation, The service you rendered a] t ¢ 1 I Sir Henry Clinton as a spy, is all the recommenda- | tion I desire of your faithfulness to the crown. But whon I first got a glimpse of your face, I could not help remarking to myself the resemblance you bore to vour rebel brother, Delaware Dick.” “Then, you have met my brother Dick, general?” Ton said. The general and the youth were alone, and ye when Tom put this question, the commander glance quickly around him, as his meeting with Delaware Dick at the cabin forced itself with Siraine humilia- tion upon his recollection. But affecting a stern in- difference, he answered: ‘* Yes, he came into our lines a few days before the capture of Trenton, bearing genuine dispatches from Colonel Rahl. As no one recognized him, and his papors were genuine and his story plausible, there hi:n of ' Spy. Since that time, however, I have found that he was Delaware Dick, Washing- ton’s spy scout,” “How did you discover the fact, general?” asked Prodigal Tom, ‘By the merest accident,’ was the evasive reply, that brought a faint smile to the sensual lips of the young Tory. ‘* Dick is a wily rebel, my lord; and but for a rebel »etticoat he would be with us to-day.” “Tt is love, then, that made him a rebel?”’ “Yes, your excellency.” ‘Out of respect to you, Thomas, I should be sorry to ver take him as a spy.” “ He certainly knows the consequence, my lord; am. while 1 hold all the respect and love of a brother for him, I shall not flinch one iota from my duty to my king, nor endeavor to prevent his capture and punishment asaspy. In fact, my lord, Iam here to make a statement of the partisan warfare that is going on outside, and to solicit of you sufficient force to drive the rebel element out of the country.” ‘*My dear sir,’’ said the general, thoughtfully, “I | cannot spare a man, horse nor foot, now. Iam upon the eve of a great battle. I shall attack Washington s00n, for his victory over Rahl has emboldened him to such a degree as to induce him to recross into New Jersey and take a position near Trenton. After I have accomplished my present Lrg Sh against the enemy, I shall send out an adequate force to subdue the bands of revel partisans, and compel the citizens to return to their allegiance to the king.” “T can afford to wait, my lord,’ Prodigal Tom re- plied, knitting his beetling brows and dropping his Bd to the ground, as if plunged in momentary re- ection, The young Tory leader was in private consultation with the general for an hour or two; and when he finally left his quarters and strolled out into the eamp, he found his men enjoying the hospitality of the British soldiers. He was received on every hand via a ee Se te and by ai sy pie Sa along, he was finally approac y a young officer, who addressed him thus: ae “T beg your ruption; but speak to you.” Prodigal Tom started at sound of his voice, betray- ing no little surprise and sudden fear. The young officer noticed his perturbation, and to relieve him, continued: “ Sir, 5 Iam Clement Fairmont, Captain of Dra- goons. ‘Captain, I assure you it affords me pleasure to make your acquaintance,” replied Tom. “‘Thave known you for some time by reputation, Tom,” the captain said. ‘pata Prodigal Tom, for my inter- could not resist the temptation to Nor was he altogether diseoppeited ; C is, as he | took the young partisan’s hand, gazed into the | though an | “And my rebel brother, Delaware Dick, also, I dare say.” “Yes; Ihave met your brother, Delaware Dick,” he answered, a strange smile playing over his face. I presume there are few Officers of ns, or of partisan rangers who have not met Dick,” the young Tory replied; ‘and some of them have met im to their sorrow. And while I regret that I have a brother engaged against ve king, I must admit that he is a thorn in the British crown—one that should be removed at all hazards,” Captain Fairmont gazed steadily into Tom's eyes for full half a minute, then he said: < Tom, do a know where your family is?” tac : know where they were last,” he answered, eva- ely. Phey have not changed places for some time. I called upon your mother and sister, Geraldine, a few days ‘0, as I came down from New York.” — nervousness, ‘I hope you left them well, cap- in 63 Quite well, and praying for peace.” May God protect them until this war is over! Mother was very sorry when the war began, and for the sake of her boys has endeavored to remain neu- a | tral; but Geraldine has always been like brother Dick, a confirmed little rebel.” “Yes, she hesitates not in expressing her feelin for the American cause,” sai Tom, I think a great deal as she does in regard to this war upon the Colonies.” ““Ha! ha! ha!” laugh*o Prodigal Tom, softly. arching his sullen brows as ¢hough a new light had burst upon his mind, “I see now, captain, what ails you. raldine Melinott has won yous affections.” Fairmont; ‘and, | Indeed?” exclaimed Prodigal Tom, betraying | “Well,” replied Fairmont, slightly confused, “I | always thought this war was unjust; unfortunately sent here to America. I say unfortu- as unjust; but having pur- | chased a fy ee commission in the army, I was | nate to me, for had it been otherwise, I should never | have met Geraldine.” ‘Then you love her, capvain?”’ “T will frankly admit I A Prodigal Tom.” “Then don’t let her win you from your country and king, captain, or by heavens you will be un- worthy of her.” “T know she is worthy of any living man, Tom, | and her devotion to the colonies is that of a heroic woman, She speaks in strong praise of her brother Dick and his service to the colonies; but of you, | Tom, she, and your mother. have never spoken.” “ Ay, they have denounced me as the prodigal son, I hear,” said Tom, bitterly. “Strong, indeed, must | be my mother and sister’s love for their country } } | gal Tom’s as though determined to | when it will turn them against me, 80, bo’ But they will see that I am right.” Again Captain Fairmont fixed his eyes upon Prodi- penetrate his very thoughts. It was really a relief to Tom when | the bray of a trumpet, and the roll of drums calling was not the shadow of a thing by Which to mistrust | to arms, resounded through the camp, diverting the attention of Fairmont from the secret that lay bu- ried in his heart. The alarm had been sounded on discovering the ap roach of a band of provincial horse, which the picket had ag ry to be the advance of Washing- ton’s army. But the report was enemy withdrew toward Trenton, without firing a , as soon as they came within sight of the Brit- sh army; Captain Fairmont and Prodigal Tom, at the h of their men, were dispatched in pursuit of them. But all they found was a vagabond Indian— old Doctor Dave—wandering tow: Trenton. CHAPTER X. A STRANGE MEETING. Some twenty miles north of Princeton was a mag- nificent estate known as Fairmont Place. Its east- ern boundary was the Raritan river, along which its broad acres stretched for a league or two. A pala- tial residence adorned the place, surrounded 5 a beautiful park that was diversified by drives and graveled walks. Large barns and out-houses stood adjacent; and long rows of neat little tenement-houses, half-hid- | den in a border of shrubbery stretching down the lane, added an appearance of thrift to the premises. ; Colonel Samuel Fairmont had emigrated to Amer- ica at an early day. He came as a scion of one of the best families of England, and with the future reatness of the colonies at heart, b the erec- ion of a home in the wiiderness bordering on the Raritan. Having the advantage of some wealth, he soon had the foundation of a great fortune lai@; and for nearly half a century, it continued to increase gradually. Colonel Fairmont’s residence had not been alto- a. a private one. He had served in some of the ndian wars, and gained the distinction of a colonel. He afterward served as a colonial officer, and might have attained to distinction, had he not re- fused promotion in order to devote his entire time to the cultivation and improvement of his estate. Through all those years of residence in America among American people, he adhered strictly to his English customs and ideas; and when the Revolu- tion began, many wondered upon which side Colonel Fairmont would throw his sympathies, since he was slow in expressing an opinion. In the course of time this became a question of great interest, for it was well known that his wealth would carry great influence whichever way he went. The old man—being now upward of seventy— was really aga between two fires, and in order to escape both, determined to maintain a strict neu- trality. But that he held an unexpressed preference for one side or the other, there was not a doubt; and th royal and patriot spies were constantly on unfounded, and the | | old man, rising from his seat, gave him a sha za the alert for some word or act that would betray his beart’s sentiments. The colonel, however, was wily as a fox, and syotrenting the motives of there spies, finally came to pees every stranger as One prying into his cherished secrets. Notwithstanding t act, however, the doors of Fairmont e were always open to the traveler—stranger or ac- quaintance, royalist or rebel. A few evenings after the battle of Trenton, Col- onel Fairmont and a qoriesnan were seated in the spacious library of Fairmont Place, enjoying « leasant conversation. The colonel was unusually monptinnte and communicative, for in the stranger he felt that he had a guest whose motive was in no manner secret, The stranger was a young man, with a keen, gray eye, and a crop of sandy hair and whiskers; and while there was nothing attractive in his general ap- pearance, there was nothing calculated to engender inistrust; for, in those days, few traveled alone but what were suspected of some secret designs in some shape or other. In the midst of their conversation, however, they were suddenly interrupted by a negro servant, who entered the room and announced a stranger at the door desiring lodging for the night. The old man’s placid countenance changed to » vexed look; but, after a moment's hesitation, he said: pow him in, till Isee of what metal he is com- posed.” f The traveler was ushered into the library, when the rp, critical look, and then said: “Good-evening, sir; you travel late. It is after ten, sir.”’ ‘“*T dare say it is,’ replied the stranger, in a tone that had an agreeable ring to the old man’s ea; “but I was determined to reack Fairmont Place be- | fore 1 stopped, for I have long been anxious to rest nately, though I don’t know that it has been unfortu- | ” beneath its roof. : F “Then you shall not be disappointed, sir; take a | seat, and I will see that your horse is cared for and | | tures. He possessed a wealth of lon groomed, and that a bite of supper is pre for yourself, Whom have I the honor o eiicadice, sir?” ‘Marvin Elwood, of New York.” “Indeed?” exclaimed the old man, taking his hand; “well, Mr, Elwood, I am pleased to meet you. Al- low me to introduce you to Mr, Roscommon, who is also a guest of mine to-nigbt,” In cordial terms the two acknowledged the intro- duction, when all three became seate Marvin Elwood could not have been over three- and-twenty years of age. He was a little below me- dium size, but rather prepossessing in form and fea- dark hair, and aset of flossy whiskers that gave him an additional look of manhooa and force of character; while a oair of keen, bright eyes shot their peer glances ull of mesmeric power into the oid man's face an around the room in an indifferent and honest sort of a way that at once disarmed Fairmont of all doubts of his new guest. After passing the compliments of the day, Mr. El- wood was conducted to the dining-room, where an ample repast had been spread for him by a colored female servant. “ A very eable gentleman, colonel,’’ Roscom- mon said, when alone with his host, ‘* but rest assur- ed he is a deep one.”’ as “T shall endeavor to draw him out when he re- turns,” replied Fairmont, “and see how hestands om the question of the day.” Elwood soon returned to the library—Fairmont’'s favorite sitting-room—much refreshed by his repast, and seating himself, at once entered into conversa- tion. He talked easily, his sentences flowing smooth and unbroken; and to the surprise of his compan- ions, he made no effort to conceal bis sympathies for the colonies, but expressed himself in the strongest terms in favor of the revolt of the Lf ge ta people. This expression of feeling, Colonel Fairmont no- ticed, touched Roscommon unfavorably. He moved uneasily on his chair, and after his feelings had be- come worked up to a certain pitch, he replied in a manner derogatory to Elwood’s views. Colonel Fairmont remained calm es a summer sky; but when he saw that an adverse feeling was rising between his guests, he breke the current of CORPEED SRO by ordering in a bottle of Madeira and glasses. This the guests did not hesitate to partake of; but instead of producing a salut effect, it only serv to excite their brains, and increase their feeling against the cause which the other espoused. “You are endeavoring to evade solid facts, Mr. Elwood,’? Roscommon at length protested; “ put suppose we accept your own theory, I can’t see what moral power you rebels can be said »° possess to make one of you equal to three Britisi¥oldiers.” “Well, this can be readily accountedfor. We are fighting on our own grounds; weselect our own bat- tle-fields; our own way of fighting; and usually our own time. We never risk a battle till we think we can win; so you can see the advantages we posvoss. As to one provincial being equal to three enemies,” that has been fully demonstrated upon more tham one occasion among the partisans.” “Name a single instance, will you Mr. Elwood?” Roscommon said, betraying some inward emotion. “‘The battle between British Bill’s and Delaware Dick's forces yesterday. The latter with fifteen mem whippec the former with forty or more,” reptied Marvin E!wood. “Delaware Dick did seg of the kind,”’ retorted: Roscommon inatone that implied more than the disputes of a friendly argument. “T tell you he did,” reiterated El in a tone that was fem and unyiel@%mg; ‘ absohitaly
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“Sir, you would have me believe that British Bill isan infernal coward, would you?’’ cried Roscom- mon, his eyes flashing fiercely. “Come, gentlemen,’’ cried Colonel Fairmont, “I th t this was to bea friendly matter. Don’t get of of balance, gentlemen, but take it cool.” “Tt was to have been a friendly discussion,” said Fioscommon, “and with that courtesy due one gen- tfeman from another; but this has not been observ- ed by Mr. Elwood and Tshall insist on satisfaction by way of an answer tomy question from him.” ‘You shall have i “*as to British Bill being a coward at heart, I am un- nubile to gay, positively; but he acted very much like # coward in his fight with Delaware Dick.” “Sir, this is an insult that you shall answer for!” thundered Roscommon, tearing a wig from his head anda massof falsewhiskers from his face, “for J, Rubdbal Roscommon, am British Bill /" and as he con- eluded he drew a pistol and cocked it, * Sir,” replied Marvin Elvood with marvelous -eoolness, *‘ you shall have satisfaction to your heart’s -eontent, for I, Marvin Elwood, am Delaware Dick!” -and he, too, threw aside a disguise of hair and whis- hy at the same time drawing a pistol and cocking ““My God, gentlemen!" exclaimed Samuel Fair- mont, starting up, as his two guests threw aside their ise, and drew their weapons, “I want no murder in my house!” * But, colonel,’’ said the rebel spy, with provoking eoolness, fixing waieny determined look upon his hated foe, ‘your amia lo friend, British Bill, is ur- went in his desire for satisfaction. “Put away your pistols, men,” cried the old man, involuntarily pushing aside the young Tory leader’s Weapon with one hand and Delaware Dick’s with the other; “‘thero must be no bloodshed here. If you wi? fight, go out and fight as brave enemies fight, upon the f#eld.”’ “Colonel Fairmont!" stormed the Tory partisan, his face flushed with liquor, his eyes flashing with fury, and his band trembling with excitement; “no rodol, especially that outlawed traitor, shall insult me with impunity. His life is the reprisal I demand.” ‘You speak as though you were a host,” retorted Delaware Dick, with a contemptuous calmness. Colonel Fairmont watched like a hawk that neither raisod his weapon against the other, for he most earnestly desired to avert the horror of a conflict. A table was betivecn the 51 is sat the glasses and bottle from which they **T will yet make you feel that my power is that of rhost, Delaware Dick,” was British Bill’s response. * You have bearded the lion in his den, sir, and since ib is Colonel Fairmont’s request that no scene be & 2.0ted here, I shall respect his wish, and—”’ “T am surprised that you have the least respect for any one,” iaterrupted his antagonist. < ‘You will ba still more surprised before you get through with me, now mind.” Dick made no reply more than to recognize his words by a sneer that was more provoking than the Witteress retort would have been. B-itish Dill had risen to his feet, but Dick remain- ed seated, with his thoughts divided between the young Tory and Colonel Fairmont. Somewhere or «ther, he had seen the old man, but to save him he «ould not recall the time nor place. His face linger- ed in his memory like the face of ane seen ina varue «ream that leaves its influe.ce upon us, but keeps the main characters just beyond our mental reach, _ While revolving the matter in his mind, his rest- Joss eyes suddenly caught a movement upen the wall behind the colonel and to the right of British Bill, A curtain of crimson satin was pushed slowly and noiselessly aside, revealing a large, square picture- frame of rosewood and mahogany that had been set into the wail and elaborately finished off. I’rom this drame the face of George the Third looked down up- on him with all the tyrannical imbecility of that Wnglish potentate. The sight of the picture settled one point in Dela- ~ware Dick’s mind: Colonel Samuel Fairmont was a doyal subject of the crown. But, why had he kept it covered? Was he afraid that the exposition cf the picture would betray his sympathies? While these questions were being entertained in «our hero’s mind, he saw the portrait of King George disappear from the frame as if by magic; and in the aarkness behind the spot where it had been, a white, ghostly object appeared. At first there was no augible form to it, but as it approached the frame, it was gradually unfolded from the nimbus of dark- mess surrounding it, and the fair and lovely face of &@ young girl stood out in bold relier before him. Delaware Dick started with an involuntary ery of gurprise, for in the face of the ycung girl, he recog- n se the features of his betrothed, Agnes Mel- ross AU was plain enough to him now. Colonel Fair- smcnt was the fussy old gentleman that had stopped fo front of the -way Inn with Agnes, when he svae a prisoner in the building. Fairmont Place, then, was the home of Agnes. His heart gave a = ne es of joy, for it had been relieved of a heavy eight. British Bill saw the young patriot’s sudden emo- tions, but imparted a wrong construction to their erigin. He believed they were the expressions of fear onthe part of Dick; anda smile of haught ae mounted his face. He fumbled in his pockets for something, and finally brought to light a small silver whistle. This he twirled between his thumb and index-finger for quite a minute, at the #ame time bestowing a terrible look upon his young exemy, as though he intended to annihilate him. hal drank to each other's health. sir,” coolly returned Elwood: , Beadle’s H Dick, however, soon regained his equanimity, and returned his adversary’s look with searching con- tempt. This so enraged the young Tory that he turned abruptly upon his heel, and advancing to the east door of the library, threw it open. Then he placed the whistle to his lips and blew a sharp blast upon it, that pierced keenly through the frosty night. elaware Dick at once mistrusted the import of his enemy’s movements, and yet he betrayed only the coolest indifference, With a strange smile upon his face he rose to his feet, and crossing the floor, threw open the west door. The tramp of feet was heard near each door out- side. Colonel Fairmont started with a look of profound horror upon every lineament of his wrinkled face, while amazement became stamped upon the features of British Bill’s, 2 : ‘‘My amiable Tory friend,’’ Delaware Dick said, while a grim smile of triumph played about his lipe, “the signal you gave was exactly the same that was to have given my men, in case necessity required it. Sir, you have called up the Scarlet Wings, as well as your Tory nighthawks.” ’ Even as he spoke, a Scarlet Wing, with a drawn saber, entered through the west door of the library; and, at the same instant, a Tory came in at the east door, Then followed a scene of terror that_sent Colonel Fairmont flying from the library. Scarlet Wing after Scarlet Wing, and Tory after Tory came fi into the room, and “ quickly forming in the ranks o war. CHAPTER XI. A DOUBLE CATASTROPHE. A coxrucr in the library of Samuel Fairmont seemed inevitable. Delaware Dick and British Bill stood glaring at each other across the room with a fierce and deadly determination in their looks. Dick still maintained his usual composure, but his enemy fairly trembled with the intensity of his emotions. The followers of these two young partisans were reatly surprised at the situation of affairs, for they 2ad not the remotest idea of what was going on until they entered the library. Each party had come in response to the preconcerted signal of its leader. It required but a few moments, however, for them to define the state of affairs and place themselves in a defensive position. Both parties seemed to be actuated by the same power. They hastily formed in lines up and down the great room. Guns and pistols were held ip a position for instant use. Murmurs of deadly ven- oe and bitter Sehomiey sees from lip to lip. full score of Tory partisans glared across the room into the faces of as many Patriots. ¢ At this juncture a footstep was heard approaching along the hall leading from the main building into the library, and the next moment Samuel Fairmont entered the room entirely recovered from his late panic. With remarkable coolness and provoking effrontery, he advanced to the table in the center of the room, and filling one of the goblets, held it aloft and exclaimed: ‘Here is success to you, my friends, adherents to the royal cause of King George,’ and then he swal- lowed the liquor at a single gulp. : A shout from the lips of the Tories answered his words of cheer, for they gave the Tories renewed courage. Onthe other hand they smote heavily up- on the ears of the patriots, and filled the heart of Delaware Dick with a feeling akin to despondency. He was convinced now, beyond a single doubt, that Fairmont was a royalist; and he felt that an insur- mountable barrier was rising between him and his betrothed, Agnes Melross. But he had little time for reflection upon the matter, Scarcely had the old man drank to the success of the Tories than the latter raised their weapons and fired upon the patri- ots. Our friends, however, were on the alert, and an- ticipating this sudden movement of the foe, averted the volley of lead by dropping upon their knees. Not a patriot was touched, and the next instant their weapons rung forth in deadly clash, and the battle became general F The Fairmont mansion now resounded with all the horrors of the baftle-field; and the terrible din rolled and echoed from chamber to chamber, filling the inmates with speechless terror. The house shook under the clashing strokes of sabers, blows of clubbed muskets, and fall of bodies; while the night without was convulsed with the horrible soundg, which, as they issued from the mansion, be- came incorporated into one dreadful roar that rolled away over field and woods. The library soon became filled with thick sulphure- ous smoke, through which the lights of the chande- lier shone dim and ghostly, and through which the forms of the combatants rurged and swayed like phantoms in the gloaming. It seemed strange, to the terrified auditors crouch- ing in the adjacent parlor, that so many shots could be fired and so many blows struck without some de- cisive result. Suddenly tne butt of a long rifle sweeping over- head in the hands of an infuriated Tory, struck the pendent lig:ts above and brought chandelier and all to the floor. For a moment darkness pervaded the room, and a lull in the conflict followed. But the gloom and silence lasted only for a moment. One of the burning,candles flew across the room and falling in a pile cf papers, set them on fire. There was no one to extinguish the flames, and in a moment a bread pare lit up the room and shone upon the scene of horior. The floor was ree with blood, in which a score of patriots a»d Tories together lay deadordying. — SEMEN SEE i - ee Ca their fiery tongues along the ceiling and walls un a holocaust seemed to threaten the lives of both atriot and ‘Tory. , ‘ The room became filled to suffocation with heat and smoke. It was more than humen nature could | endure, and finally terminated the conflict and drove the combatants from the room. They carried their — wounded with them; but the dead were lefttothe _ vouring flames. | a in the open air the patriot rangers the struggle to be renewed; but the Tories disap- peared in the darkness, and were seen no more that night. Our friends, with their wounded in charge, hastily _ retreated on the place. They moved down the road until they reached the timber, then turningab- ruptly to the ht, | sesge on sonongh the woods until they reached the point where they had left their horses. Here they halted to enumerate their loss and ascertain the extent of the injufies of the wounded. They found that half of their number were missing and wounded. Among the missing was their fear- less young leeder, Delaware Dick. A comrade had seen him in the heat of the conflict, under the | The conflict was renewed with increased fury i blow of a Tory musket; nor did he see him rise ain. e gloom of despondency and bitter sorrow settled upon the faces and in the hearts of the vors of the little band of partisans, They knew that their beloved young leader was ancege e slain left in the burning house, and it was too late now to think of recovering the body from the flames. Already they could see the flames bursting from the mansion and shooting their long beams ‘nto the sky. The sur- — rounding soon became lit up with a dazzling glare, — and from their covert in the forest, the patrich ~ rangers could see the Fairmont mansion enveloped — in a mountain of seething fire, and could distinguish — forms passing hurriedly to and fro about the rounds, 7 ri The leadership of Delaware Dick’s band, or what was left of it, now devolved upon Lieutenant Banks, a youn atriot, whose knowledge of the Aapenr indomitable courage and fearless daring fully q ed him to lead the y- . Though little baud of partisans had suffered the loss of r beloved captain and nearly one half of their number, they did ‘not lose all hope in the cause for which they were battling. On the con- volving upon them, and Lieutenant Banks had con- cluded to move woodman and true fierce bark of a dog startled the little One of the ran, bs seized his gun a the gloom around him, ‘i ay } Again the bark of the dog emote | their ears, Fi The horses sniffed the air and paw he ground un- easily. ; uel “Bows,” whispered Banks, “there’s something ~ not just right about here!” Ae “Ho dar, massa, don’t shoot, for I’se a friend to — everybody,’’ came a voice from out the gloom. Pte “Who ‘are you?” demanded Banks, seizing his _ istol, i ‘*T’se ole Grind , Lis; and dat dog’s Box; debest dog for ‘coon and *possum on de ribber,” and as the speaker thus explained, he advanced into the open- ing where our friends were awaiting him, ‘Well, sir, what are you doing here?’ asked ¢ Banks. : “Tse huntin’ you; dat is, if you’s dem pattyrots _ what Delumware Dick leads.” vig “Well, what do you want of us? Whosent you — here?” : ‘*One ob your friends—didn’t ax his name; buthe war wounded in de fight, and crawled out into de bushes, whare ole Grindy find him.” ; : ‘*Bless Heaven!’ cried a youth, excitedly, ‘ per- haps it is Dick himself.” . “He didn’t tell me what his name war; but ole Grindy tote him off into de woods and hide him whar j de ornery Tories won't find him.” ; ‘“How does it come that you are a rebel, and yet the servant of old Fairmont?” 2 fended at their evident mistrust, the ra: a desire to investigate the condition of = See selected before consigning the weun ry ere be 2d With his dog in the lead, the old man directed the way toward hidden hospital. For several se utes they pushed through the gloomy kabyrinths
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———— long the stnuous windings of a dim path, oo one om Sn of tangled undergrowth, finally arriving at their destination in a place where the gloom, silence, and desolation impressed the rangers with a vague consciousness of being in the realnis of im Solitude. » In a few minutes, however, they were on their way back to the command; and, on arriving there, ‘ave the most satisfactory evidence of Old Grindy’s foyalt . But the comrade they had found in the old nezro’s hidden retreat was not delaware Dick, and the announcement of the fact crushed the ardent hope that the little band had dared to entertain of its being their leader. 'Thegrest of the wounded were at once removed to Grindy’s quarters, and left in the old man’s charge; while Lieutenant Banks and his followers took to their saddles and rode away in the direction of Fair- mont Place. The location of the mansion was now indicated by a mighty pyramid of fire, which thrust its quiveri apex almost into. the very dome of heaven, an read its broad glare for miles over field and forest, When about a mile from the mansion the rangers drew rein, and dismounting, concealed their horses in the edge of the woods, and then crept along in the | shadow of a stone fence toward the fire. As they drew near, they saw a body of mounted Tories and | the king’s horse come down the road and stop in | front of the burning house. This induced the pa- triots to be more cautious, and leaving the main command behind, Lieutenant Banks and two com- rades crept on until they could command a fair view of the crowd gathered about me glaring ruins. ‘“By heavens!’’ were the first wo that burst from Banks’s lips, ‘“‘do you see that young officer | i standing near that tto, north of the ruins?” “Yes,” answered Perry Hammond; “he seems to be taking it cool as a cucumber.” ** Ay; but don’t you recognize him, Perry?” asked Banks. They were not over a hundred yards from the of- ficer in.question; and for fully a minute Hammond studied his form and features closely. “‘T’'ll admit,” he finally said, that there is some- thing familiar about his form, but then I can’t re- “Why, Perry,” interrupted Banks, “‘it is Prodigal Tom, the Tory, and brother of our own Delaware ” ‘* Ah, indeed! Then it is the resemblance in form and movement between the brothers that struck me as being familiar. I wonder if the young Tory knows that the body of his brother is being con- sumed in that awful fire?” “Perhaps he does, which accounts for his grave demeanor and silent attitude. Here and there, about the park, little groups of of- ficers and soldiers, men and women, both black and white, were gathered together, gazing upon the ru- ins with faces that seemed ghastly in the light of the red flames. The black servants and white tenants of | Fairmont Place had all flocked to the scene of de- struction, There was a horrible fascination in the awful flame that they could not resist, and before the roof of the mansion fell in, over a hundred per- sons were present. Banks and his companions studied each grour and each face closely; and presently their eyes fell upon the form of a young girl who sat alone in the park upon a rustic seat. Her face looked ghastly ‘a the | turid light, and her eyes were red and swoller with weeping. This maiden was Agnes Melross, the betrethed wire of Delaware Dick; and while Banks had his eyes still upon her, he saw a negro vouth emerge from the shadows behind her and teuch her upon the shoulder. He saw the maiden start to her feet and rasp the lad by the hand as if eager for some intel- igence from his lips; but when the lad shook his woolly head and pointed toward the burning man- sion, she clasped er hands to her brow, and sunk upon the earth. The negro lad lifted her tenderly from the cold ound and placed her upon the seat, then drawing er shawl closer about her head and shoulders, he turned and walked sadly away. While this scene was being enacted, Banks saw shat Prodigal Tom was watching the maiden narrow- , and as soon as the black went away, the young ory turned and approached her. _ He stopped in front of her, lifted/his hat and spoke. The maiden started at sound of his voice; but at sight of his face, she suk back into her seat, more than ever overcoms by her emotions of sorrow. CHRAITER Xi1. CORNWALLIS RECEIVES A VISITOR. SHortLiy after the astounding news of the capture ef the Hessians at Trenton had reached the ear of Lord Cornwallis, who was encamped near Princeton, he called his generals together in his private consul- tation room, and to them made known his inten- tion of marching against Washington at once. He | had jearned through his scouts that the American general had taken a position in the rear of Trenton, and was intrenching himself there, evidently, with | the intention of holding the place. **But, general,’ said one of his officers, ‘‘the sa- acious Washington would never have dared to con- | ont your army had he not been assured of his own ower and ability to cope with you. I dare say he Tasreceived reinforcements.” ““Ay, my lord,’”’ added another, ‘“‘reinforcements in spirit if not in numbers. The defeat of Colonel Rahi willencourage the Americans to fight like Spar- tans.” “But, generals,”’ said Cornwallis, ‘‘I propose to | , regret that one so promising | cut down in the prime and vigor of ject, “I am glad you have come, Tom. | brothers would arra | that family. Delavers Dick. ascertain both his strength and position before I make a strike,” This settled all feelings that were of an adverse na- ture mo he genercl’s plans; and the council soon ad- journed. Scarcely had the last officer retired from the com- mander’s tent, when his prince of spies, Prodigal Tom, was announced; and the next moment the — general and the young Tory were closeted Opether. From the lips of Prodigal Tom, Cornwallis learned, for the first time, the news of Delaware Dick’s death at Fairmont Place, and, although it were glad tid- ings to his ears, he, out of respect for Tom's feelings for his dead kinsman, manifested no outward emo- tions of joy. On the pontrary. he expressed deep as Delaware Dick should an unholy came, and be outh, throw himself away in such ‘* But,” said the general, finally c nging the sub- 7 y so, my lord?” questioned the young ory. ‘‘ I want to hear from Washington’s army.” “Colonel Rahl heard from it once too often, my lord,” responded Tom, facetiously, a smile playing | over his face “TIT am not desirous of such news as that, Tom,” the commander replied; “it is of Washington's Strength and position of his forces and batteries that I desire to know. If Ican learn where his stron —_ are, that will enable me to attack his moe points,’ “Then you propose to attack Washington, m lord—but pardon my inquisitiveness. I have bee in Washington’s camp more than once, and 1 shail risk another venture there for the information you desire. Between this and morning, my lord, you may expect to hear from Trenton.”’ ornwallis had rfect confidence in Prodi Tom’s superior ability as a spy, and after some in- structions regarding the information desired, he dispatched the youth upon his dangerous mis- sion. Scarcely had the young spy quitted the presence of the British general, before an old man, desiring to see the commander, appeared at head-quarters. As he was well-known to several of the soldiers, he had no trouble in gaining admission to the general's pre- sence, “Sir,” said the latter, “Iam informed that your name is Wesley Marble, that you are a royalist, that you have sons in the king's army; now, what brings you here?” “The news, my lord, of Delaware Dick’s death in a fight up on the Raritan.” “That is stale news; I have heard of his death be- fore now, Mr. Marble.” ‘Ah, indeed!” exclaimed the old Tory, thought- fully; “ well, general, it seems queer, doesn’t it, that themselves against each other as Prodigal Tom and Delaware Dick have done?” “That is nothing uncommon; brethers are fighting brothers and sons fightin fathers in every battle. But I have never heard of Delaware Dick and Prodi- gal Tom meeting in conflict.” ‘Nor I, general; and right here let me say this: I have known the Melinott family for years, and in all these years I never knowed t were two boys in The only one I knowed anything about war Thomas R. Melinott, and if thar’d been two, l’d ka known it, for the Melinotts war our nighest neigh- ors,’ Cornwallis looked searchingly into Wesley Mar- be face, and, after some soul-reading, he re- plied: ia Have you seen Thomas R. Melinott since the war un?” oes: once or twice,’ responded the old man. “Which of the two, Delaware Dick and Prodigal Tom, then, is Thomas R.?” ‘Delaware Dick is the one I always knowed from a wee bit of a boy.” ‘ ras you have not seen Prodigal Tom, late- y 39 “Yes, sir; I've seen him, too.” “What's ycur opinion of him?’ Wesley Marble glanced quickly around the room as if. to assure himself that no one was near him be- sides Cornwallis; then leaning across the table, he whispered something in the general's ear that caused the latter to start as though the words had been the | sting of a serpent. / ‘Wesley Marble!” he thundered, “ what assurance | have you for this?” “ Just what I iid yes, my lord.” ) Cornwallis seemed amazed, and for a moment he | remained silent and thoughiful; while the nervous ) twitching of his facial muscles betrayed his inward | emotions. At a he asked: / ‘“ Where is the Melinott family, Marble?” “You've got me now, general; after the old man was killed by British Bil.’s Tory ranger, about a | year ago, tha mother and the daughter, Geraldine, | | disappeared from their old home in the Delaware | valley, and the good Lord only knows where they have gone. But, I’ve been thinkin’ the matter over and over, and now I’ve come to the conclusion that the disappearance of the mother and daughter was made in order to conceal all positive proof of what I've been telling you.” A look of great uneasiness clouded the British of- ficer’s face. It was plai evident that he gave strong credence to the suspicions of Wesley Marble. “Mr. Marble,” he said, “I am going to impose a duty upon you: I want you to find, if possible, where the widow Melinott and her daughter Geral- dine are concealing themselvese and report to me at your earliest convenierce. This matter must be | sounded to its depths.” 4 “Tl do my best, general,” the old Tory replied. and after some desultory conversation he went away, leaving Cornwallis in a fever of excitement, The general kept Marble’s secret to himself, for raore than one reason; but, despite his efforts to @ pear indifferent, those around noticed that the old man’s visit had left him in a state ef uneasiness, Daricness finally settled over the camp. The gen- eral retired early; but he could not sleep, He lay awake through the entire night, eagerly waiting the return of Prodigal Tom. Morning came, but the spy did not, Great fears for the young royalist’s safety were entertained. Concealing the emotions, that had troubled him so long, in the hurry and bustle of breaking camp, Cornwallis appeared calm and collected, as was his wont on the eve of some great event; but not until he was moving with his army toward Trenton did he experience any relief at heart. fie had decided not to postpone his advance upon Washington in consequence of Prodigal Tom’s non- appearance; for, while the information sought by the spy would be of great advantage to him, it was too immaterial, in another sense, to cause delay. Still, he entertained a hope that vom would meet him before he reached Trenton; but in this he was disappointed. On arriving in the vicinity of Trenton, he found Washington 7 a strong tion, with a small river—a tribu to the Delaware—in his front. But Cornwallis felt so confident of his me rior strength, that he at once began an attack () American lines, and attempted to cross the in face of a deadly fire. But in this he failed. The galling fire of the American rifles forced him back, with a heavy loss, Again and again the attempt to cross the stream and carry the provincial works by storm was renewed; but each time the british were repulsed. ight at length “one! an end to the battle, when Cornwallis was enabled to ascertain the extent of his loss, which had been heavy. Success was despaired of by his army, until a heavy reinforcement arrived from New Brunswick, and inspired the defeated sol- diers with renewed courage, and strengthened their spirits for the morrow’s work. Under cover of darkness, the British planted sev- eral batteries in commanding positions, threw up a long line of ‘breastworks and perfected other ar- rangements, which, all together, would give them a decided advantage over the position of the previous day. vin catch the fox to-morrow,” said Cornwallis, alluding to W ton. All through the night the American sentinels could be seen pacing to and fro within the light of the camp-fires that burned brightly on the plains beyond Assumption creek, At length dawn ushered in the day, and when about to order an advance upon the enemies’ lines, Cornwallis discovered the American camp was de- serted—that Washington had given them the slip, while keeping up the semblance of an occupied camp through the night. ; Where the American army had gone, the British knew not; nor had they the remotest idea of the time it had broken camp, for the camp-fires burned bright- ly through the entire night. Cornwallis finally concluded that Washington must have fled back into Pennsylvania, and while discus- sing the expediency of following him, a strange sound burst upon the ears of the whole royal army. “Tt is thunder,” said the British commander. “Nay, general,” exclaimed one of his aids; “it does not thunder here in January. It is the roar of cannon, my lord. The Americans have eluded us and marched upon Princeton! To arms! To arms! We have been out-generaled. It is the sound of Washington's guns!” CHAPTER XVI. HOW MATTERS STOOD AT FAIRMONT PLACE, SEVERAL days had passed since the conflict at Fairmont Place. The death of Delaware Dick had reached the ears of most of the settlers along the Raritan and Delaware valleys; and while the news brought a sense of relief to the Tory element, it cast -. gloom of sadness and regret over every patriot eart. The little band of Scarlet biter however, hed not been destroyed, and under the leadership of Harry Banks, it kept up a morta) terror among the Tories. The loss of their leader did not deprive the country | of the usefulness af the rangers, Samuel Fairmont attributed the loss of his resi- | dence to the rebel rangers, the Scarlet Wings; and at once declared his intention of sacrificing all +> pos: essed, if need be, in behalf of the royal cause in America. He did not leave his farm, but at once | moved into the old, double log-house that stood near | the ruins of his mansion, and in which he had lived many years before the erection of his new residence, It was large and commodious, and as most of the contents of the mansion had been saved from the fire, is was soon furnished; and the colonel and his family found themselves settled once more—com- fortably, if not a. Since the night of the conflict, Colonel Fairmont noticed that his grand-daughter, Agnes Melross, had undergone a material change in spirit, which he could not attribute alone to the loss of their residence. She was restless and uneasy. A vague auxiety seemed to pervade her very soul; while a cloud of sadness settled upon her brow and eglipsed the an- gelic light of her sweet, vivacious yo’ eari. “My child,’ the old man said one day, vbr ho found her seated alone, apparently in green oh jee tion of spirit, ‘why is it t at you ave ec edad downheaxted of late?” ee
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“ Are-these not times to men’s souls, grand- father?” she replied, ae “Yes; but what have you, a girl—a child, to fear?” “ As much as any girl, who has an old grandfather Hable to be killed at any time by the provincials,” “ Provincials!”’ drawled the old man with all the bitter contempt he could throw into the word, and his looks; “ Agnes, for mercy sake, don’t speak of those rebels in such mild terms, or I shall think your long visit at Melross farm has turned you intoa lit- tle rebel. Iknow your uncle is a rebel at heart, as is nearly every Scotch-Irishman in America. I hope, my child, you are not pining for associations you left behind on Stony Brook—associations that would be a dishonor to the name of the Fairmonts, of which my child, who was your mother, was a noble off- épring. The escutcheon of our house was pointed out as one of the proudest and most honored of Eng- land’s families; and I pray, my child, that you, who are the last direct descendant of my famil y, will en- deavor to perpetuate our name. Your cousin Clem- ent Fairmont, to whom you were betrothed in your childhood, according to the customs of old land's first families, will certainly visit us soon, have not seen Clement, myself, since he was a boy of four; that was when I went back to England ona visit some sixteen years ago. But they say he is a royal youngster, handsome and gallant as a young ou will be pleasen with him, Agnes; knight. I know and, that he will make you a kind and loving hus- band. You are now seventeen and I am seventy. My days are about numbered; the sands of life run, and yet before I go, I want to see you settled in life. You are old enough now to think for yourself, Agnes, and see the great propriety of what I most apxiously desire for your good, and that of our family name.” Agnes appeared to listen intently to her nd- father’s words; but they nowise met with her approval. She had never seen the cousin to whom e had been betrothed in her babyhood, and inward- ly hoped that she never should. The image of her boy lover, Delaware Dick, was constantly before her; and down in the silent depths of her heart of hearts there slumbered a feeble ray of holy light which, in itself, was a beacon of hope reaching yond the selfish motives of her kinsman. “Grandpapa,” she finally said, “ suppose I do not like Clement Fairmont?” “There is no danger but you will, if you fix your whole mind and heart upon the consummation of the one object.”’ ““I don’t like the manners of those young Eng- en, grandpapa.”’ “Ah! zen have become thoroughly Americanized my child,” replied the old man a little bitterly; “I resume you can see traits to admire in a young uckskin, where all is gross vulgarity in a gallan ag | Englishman, For illustration, you take Cap- Villiam Walton, otherwise known as British Bill, and Delaware Dick, and note the difference there was in them. The one is courtesy and refinement of an nglish gentleman; while the i roung rebel, peace be to his ashes, was coarse and illiterate.” “ British Bill’s outward a gallant young officer; but character is no better than his, there will be no at- traction for me about him. It is uot the form and blandishments that make the man in my eyes, but the soul, the image of God.” “What have you against Captain Bill’s character. Agnes? Is it a crime to fight for one’s king an country, as he is doing? Were he that young rebel Delaware Dick, whose dust mingles with the ashes of CIE home, then you might talk about charac- ar.” Agnes bit her quivering lips to keep down the re- be'lious emotions Serus eine. for Geran Her face became flushed, and her eyes burned with an rance is that of a | Clement Fairmont’s | PPY | | that his visits to Fairmont were bein ssessed of all the | | / “Yes; and this morning was joined by the re- doubtable Prodigal Tom, and ten men, which makes m Nao teh mae r table.” * Prodig om!" : tell me he's a rollickir oung daredevil from - word go. You must him down, captain: merely spoke to him the night of the fire, and I pre- sume he thinks I was rather indifferent, but— “ He could have expected not. else under _ circumstances, colonel,”’ TAL o the officer wit a rude indifference; “ Prodigal Tom isa very sensible and considerate young soldier. I have but one fault to a with ee : “What is that, captain?” ‘‘He resembles brother, Delaware Dick, too much to make one altogether comfortable. at Sn think so?” replied the colonel; now, hou, stood revealed to me in the light of my burning home. But then as. features in such lights don't look natural, t.” . At mention of her lover’s name, Agnes’s face col- ored in spite of herself; and to conceal her Sane, which could have been not else than those 0 rief and sorrow, she arose, and walking to the win- fow, gazed out over the field and interminable stretch of woods beyond, her eyes swimming in a mist of tears. : “Well,” British Bill said, “‘I will bring him down “well, here some day, and you can have a fair look at the | | prodigal sone, We may remain at Cross Hollows | several days,” | “Good! Good” exclaimed the old royalist, hg | dezvous, if our limited hospitality will in an i over with enthusiasm; “if you do remain, ras you to make Fairmont Place a kind of a ren- respect repay you for so doing. Weare indeb' to you captain, for what little we have left of our home. y “Thank you, Mr, Fairmont; I shall endeavor to accept of your proffered hospitality with pleasure. Fairmont arose, and advancing toward the door, said: ‘*Excuse my presence a moment, captain; I had almost forgotten to order your horse stabled and groomed.” | Before British Bill could enter a protest, in case he | | desired to do so, the old colonel lided out of the room, leav: nes to entertain their guest. This the pain did reluctantly, although she art- fully concealed her aversion to the young Tory in an amiable conversation. 1es had met Captain Walton frequently, and, in the meantime, noticed attended with unusual interest. And what surprised her gt ll | the encouragement her grand-parent gave him, an the adroit and skillful manner in which he always managed to bring them—Agnes and the captain— together. She would have thought nothing partic- ular of this, had the old man not been so firmly set upon her marrying a man she had never seen—her cousin, Clement Iairmont. The young folks discussed the general topics of the day in a very matter-of-fact way, and it was a great relief to es when the colonel returned. By this time it was sunset, and the twang of a horn caused British Bill to start uneasily. Rising, he advanced to the door and looked out. couple of dogs running down toward the negro ser- vants’ cabin, ‘where a number of blacks were gath- ered in a little knot, o:e with a tin horn in his hand. “Tt's nothing, captain,’ said Fairmont, noticin the officer's uneasiness; “it’s only them confound niggers calling in their forces for ‘a coon-hunt. I’ve got to put a stop to that night-rambling through the woods, or some niggers ‘ll come up missing.’ British Bill returned to his seat, while es, po- litely excusing herself, left the parlor, and passed _ into the kitchen, where Miss Kathleen O’Doon was unusual luster. Hergrandfather noticed her excite- | ment, and continued: ; “Tsee, my child, that you are about three-fourths mbel. Iam sorry now that I ever permitted you to g» over to your uncle’s on the Stony. I know they an>allrebels over there; and so you’ve become in- ocu'ated with that atmosphere.” Before Agnes could reply, the clatter of hoofs near the door arrested their attention, and the next mo- ment a horseman drew rein and dismounted in front of the house, ish Bill. The young, royal captain was received into the humble home of the Fairmonts, ore hearty welcome from the colonel, and a pene difference by Ag- nes, At heart, the latter felt a loathing terror for the enemy who had struck at the life of him she | loved; but being possessed of the power of self-con- trol, she managed to disguise her feelings. _. British Bill was a specimen of perfect manhood payaically; but morally he had been found wanting that honor and principle which characterizes a brave and true soldier, © was insolent and abusive to the conquere:|, cruel and merciless to his prisoners. “My dear friends,” he said with affected Trace, as he seated himself, ‘I am pleased—delighted to sow that you still have a comfortable home.” “Thank you, captain,” replied the old man, “but then it is somewhat of a damper on Fairmont pride to be peopens down to a level with the servants and tenants.”’ “Tf we fare no worse, grandfather, we will have esca better than some,” Agnes remarked. “You need have no fears of the Scarlet Win q my friends,’ responded the young partisan: ‘ for they will not venture hereaways soon again. If they should, 1 will be ready for them.” MA a » certainly,” affirmed the colonel: ‘‘I eo you are still encamped at the Cross Hol- ows, A glance told them who it was—Brit- | busily engaged in the CaS oreivcer of supper. “¥aith, Agnis, me darlint, and mees thought sure | yees war niver coming,” the Celtic maid exclaimed. ssible for me “We have company, and it was im Hen he is in the par- . get =, any sooner. j British Sr - or,’ replied Agnes, in a low, guarded tone. 3 pad the ‘loping bla’g’ard!’’ exclaimed Kathleen, indignantly, for ber sympathies were with | her lover, who was a soldier under Washington. ‘““Be very care Kathie,’’ whispered her young mistress, and conte let ee goon find out that we are hg patriots, or itwill all our lives are worth.” “Och, choild! and it’s not the tongue of Kathleen O’Doon that will betray us.” “‘Have you the basket filled?” asked Agnes, as she suddenly caught aight of a black face peeping through a clump of lilac-bushes back of the house. ‘““This long whoile, me darlint. There it is with cold chicken, nice bread, cold meats, a bottle of poteen, and lots ave noice dainties.”’ es picked up the basket and passing out at the back-doot , approached the bushes where she had seen the black face. A pene lad was there to meet her; and to hirm she gave the basket with some hastily de- livered instructions, Then turning, she re-entered the house; while the black boy crept around the park un ived, and joined his friends in front of the cabin. The next minute the black ’coon-hunters were off for the scene of their nocturnal sports. Captain Walton took tea with the Fairmonts that evening; and about dusk mounted his horse and started on his return to Cross Hollow. As he rode along his mind was busied with other thoughts than those of the war; his heart filled with other feelings than those of sympathy for the crown. They were thoughts and feelings that were burning their way in- to his very soul. He tried to dismiss them—throw them aside as he would some fvousn vagaries; put hé found that his heart failed to respond to the vo- ht differently the other night when he | He saw a | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ) lition of the will—that it clung to its strangel ceived emotions with unyi firmness and ¢ dense ae the fair and lovely face of exclaimed the colonel, “they | | | Fairmont Place. On the following da | camped zieing up before his men vision, told British that 2 wi in love with the young mistress of Fair. | t. It was his first love, yet it wasad i - ing and sionate love—a love that would beam trifling—brook no rival. CHAPTER XVII. ; Orie OF PRODIGAL TOM, ves { Tur Scarlet Wings un anks from the vicinity of Fairmont Place a day or © af- he loss of their leader, Delaware Dick, Be Krare of the presence of British Bil and Prod om im the neighborhood, they felt that it would ; folly to contend with the consolidated forces of the _ two Tory leaders; so they turned their course south. ward and were making their way toward Princeton when they were met by Major Dalrymple with a small party of dragoons that ‘Washington had dig patched in pursuit of British Bill. It required no extra inducement to persuade the Scarlet Wings to tuin back, and, after a short con- ference, Harry Banks led the way in the wproe of ey en- in the great forest bordering on the old colo- nel’s fine estate; and before another night had set in, Dalrymple kad arranged a reconnoissance in the direction of British Bill’s camp. : The Scarlet Wings heartily ed Ce his pro osed Jans, and as soon as darkness had fully set in, - enant Harry Banks and five of his band were to accompany the aloe and his party of ten se edmen. They made their way on foot in the direc. tion of Fairmont Place; and after an hour's rapid marching they came to the end of the broad avenue or Jane leading by the house. 4 As the moon was shining brightly, flooding field and forest with its mellow radiance, the major or- dered a halt within the berder of shadows in order to ascertain whether or not the way beyond was clear, before venturing out from cover of the woods, He and young Banks crept forward to a point where — they could command a fair view of the open district, — and with keen eyes searched the fields and road be- — fore them. They saw noth whatever, but t imagined they could hear the faint stroke of hoofed- feet somewhere in the distance, The sound was so _ indistinct that they were inclined to doubt their own | hearing at first; but by waiting they soon found it — was no delusion. It grew plainer and plainer until there was no doubt of the point from whence it ema- _ ni ted; and presently the outlines of a horseman were grad y unfolded trom the depths of the dis- nce. mt py ee coming down the lane from the direction _ of Fairmont Place, and the two patriots saw the flash of pallitaxy trappings about him, and heard the ' ingle of a saber. a ; Fit's a iene officer,” whispered Dalrymple, a wing his pisto. ; any erage?” responded Lieutenant Banks, “£25 intake not, it is the notorious Prodigal Tom. sh a ** Smoke of en at eteere the major, ‘then — we must capture him at ali hazards!” Le “Yes; but there he has stopped. Can he hg seen us?” : “Impossible; but step back a little further inte the shadows.” i The horseman had stopped, sure enough, about fifty yards from them, and close by the ‘by old tree that stood near the road. the patriots — watched every movement he made. They saw him — lean over in the stirrups and put his hand into a bole © if in the side of the tree. When he withdrew it, they — saw that it contained a paper, and knew at once that the tree was a secret post-office where the young ~ Tory received and delivered letters. ee Prodigal Tom, for the horseman was Tom, op , the note, intending to read it by moonka es be- fore he had scarcely read the date, a voi cried = out: : ‘*Surrender! or by heavens, da shall die!” 4 The paper drop from his hand, so like a d UM knell did the words fall upon hisears, He turnedhis — eyesand to his horror saw a score of patriots emerge _ from the woods and advance toward him, with mus- — kets on a level with his breast. ae ‘*Dismoust, sir, and surrender,” again demanded Major Dalrymple, as, at the head of his men, moved rapidly toward the motionless young Tory, __ “T will do so, LE eecmeen-as: ome Tam treated asa risoner of war,’’ the youth said. su Pit is not for you to make conditions, sir,” return _ ed the major; ‘nothing but an unconditional sur render will be accepted.” a. “Oh, that indeed!” replied Prod Tom, sarcas- tically; ‘‘ well, as you are only about twenty ay a me, i presume I will have to accede to your impera- | tive demand.” ; ae So saying, he dismounted gee pe himself up, — when he was at once conducted to camp. Here he was disarmed and searched, and among tie effects found upon his person, was a leather containing two queer-loo instruments and vials of liquids that puzzled the whole command Even the erudite eon Eleazer Gwynpane, all his medical and surgical lore, was unable to sign the liquids any place in the Materia Me recall the purpose to which the oS €2 ~! \- Upon Surgeon Gwynpane struments and liquids were per: were returned to owner,
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_ they rushed, as though eac ———— - Delaware Dick. Major Dalrymp! 2 ead a British spy. and that he had beén known ss the American lines in disguise; but whether he would be considered a spy, captured as he wa: a me 2 question of doubt in the patriot camp, anc bocmattle the matter, @ courier was dispatched in Washington with news Of his capture, an os structions in the matter. ‘ 2 asking It was noon the next day when the courier re- turned from Morristown with this characteristic re- ply: ’ Mason Homer DALRYMPLE: You are hereby in- vested with full power and anit oniiey 3 try Prodigal | ; a British spy. If found guilty, he will not be eeonted, of course, without my approval. ‘GrorGe WASHINGTON. “« MORRISTOWN, Jan. — , 1777. ¢ ” ig reply was not altogether unexpected py Dal- By ple, and yet hewould gladly have evaded the duty that Tom’s capture devolved upon him, could he have done 80 honorably. He regretted that the stern necessities of war required such duty of any man, He could face an enemy in battle, but his ver soul shrunk from the thought of taking a prisoner‘s life. But what could he do, unless it was to refuse to do his duty? The law was inexorable, and Prodi- al Tom must be placed on trial as a spy. The preliminaries were soon arranged, and then the trial began; but we will not attempt to give the whole proceedings which occupied two days. Suf- fice it to say that Prodigal Tom was found guilty and sentenced to be hung as a spy, : The sentence was made out in mia care of a courier, to Washington for approving of the same. n the day of Tom’s conviction, Doctor Dave, the Indian nomad, made his appearance in the patriot camp. and sent, in is signature CHAPTER XVIII. THE “COON-HUNTERS. We left Colonel Fairmont’s black servants, six in number, on their way to the ’coon-grounds in the valley of the Raritan. They were led by old Grindy, whom we have met before, and whose heart was en- listed in the cause of freedom. *Coon-hunting was a favorite amusement of Fair- mont’s servauts, and, although the rt was some- what out of season in January, they had spent nearly every night for the past two weeks in the w 8 t Ss. They pushed their way rapidly and silently through the forest until the ‘* game-grounds ” wate reacted when old Grindy, and the lad to whom Agnes had given the basket of provision, left the main party and pressed on into a deep valley, where the dark- ness and density of the woods rendered the black- ness of night intense. This however, proved no im- iment to the advance of the darkeys, and they urried on until their footsteps were arrested by a stone wall in which there was a door opening into an excavation in the steep hillside. This cavern had been dug there by Fairmont’s blacks years before. It had been used by them as a sort of a rendezvous upon their hunting excursions. Over and around the place time had added its growth of shrubbery and vines until it was as completely hidden from the view as it was possible for it to have been. Into Coon Cave, as the darkeys called the place, old Grindy led the way; then in the darkness of the retreat the sound of voices arose—voices whose tremulous tones denoted feebleness of strength. In a few minutes the old man and his young com- anion came out of the cave, closed the door behind hem, and then crept softly away. Out in the forest they rejoined their comrades when all struck out in search of ‘coon and ‘possum. They freed their dog from the leash to range the woods. As the party moved on, phantom-like through the darkness, an old owl scrambling out of a tree over- head, or the boom of a night-jar’s wing would startle them, ever and anon, with sudden fear and regret; for the sounds were ill-omens to them. “Cussfound de luck,” growled old Grindy after an hour’s hunting in vain, “guess as what ebery ‘coon and ‘possum has took his family and depa’ted.” “T jist knowed we'd not find ennything when I heard dem owls and dem ‘ jars,’ said Joe Buckhorn; ‘when dey are out, de’coon and ’possum are in, dat am a scientific fact.” “Dar! by geminly frost!’ suddenly burst from old Grindy’s lips, ‘‘dat dog, Box, has treed sumfin now. Ki, yi! come ‘long, boys,” and away went the aa at the top of their speed, directing their course by the barking of the dog. On over hill and valley, through thicket and bram- ble—with the headlong Kel bem tl of wild men, one was trying to out- strip the other in a race to the dog. Old as he was, Grindy finally reached the animal ahead of his coenpanions. ~ Out of breath, almost, they all stopped to rest and listen. It struck old Grindy, at once, that the dog was acting unusually queer for an old *coon-dog, and _ spoke of it to his companions. ‘*Mebby he’s got a or painter treed, Grindy,” - gaid Buckhorn. “Sumfin dat’s not a coon or ‘possum shoah’n shootin’—Lord! did you hear dat?” “Tt war sumfin dat guggled-like,”’ said Buckhorn. “JT sw’ar it war a ghost, Grindy,’” exclaimed an- er. “Go ‘long wid your foolishin’,”’ reproved the old darkey, ‘dar ar’n’t no sich things as ghosteses, you superstitchin’ nigger. But I you dar’s e knew that the prisoner had been / | } ; sumfin not rigzt romnd heah, and I’se gwine to vesti- £4! ion it dis morte) sceroud.” He stared slowly and carefully forward with his hands outstretched before him; and be had gone but a few finger-tips, but at onee oscillated beyond his touch. He started with a sort of a vague shudder, reached out a little further and when ede ap swung back he seized it, It was a human y still warm and aquiver with life. It was suspended to a limb be- tween heaven and earth, “Tse found it, boys!" exclaimed old Grindy, “and it’s a man hangin’ toa limb. He’s warm and jerky yit—'spects he's not dead—give a boost here, and et’s ease down.” They cut the rope and laced the body at full length upon the ground. rindy felt his pulse, and found that it was not entirely gone; and without a | moment's delay, the een py remedy known to the darkeys was af once applied for the resuscitation of the feeble spark left in the body of the unknown. Nor were their kind, humane efforts in vain. Sigus of. returning consciousness were soon manifested; and as soon as the man was enabled to speak, thougb incoherently, Grindy said to his companions: Boys, I know he’s another patriot dat dem ornery Tories have tried to kill; but praise de Lord, dey'll git foolished ag’in. We mus’ jist toie him right off de ’Coon Cave, fo’thwith. I reckon as what one snifter from dat bottle what de young missus send to de patriots will jis’ h’ist him right up.” Old Grindy’s words were imperative; and as there was no appeal from his decisions, he always bad his way among his black friends, And in a few min- utes a rude litter had been constructed, the stranger placed upon it and the course of the ’coon-hunters shaped toward the hidden cavern. CHAPTER XTX. A STARTLING REVELATION. Cartan Watton, alias British Bill, continued in camp at Cross Hollows; though the captain, him- self, spent most of his time at Fairmont Place within the sunshine of Agnes Melross’s lovely presence. “ nee when ~s aes pe Samuel alone, bs ~ raced the op unity of speaking to him of the matter that lay nearest his heart. “Colonel,” he said, “ you have doubtless wonder- ed why I have made F; ont Place so many visits of late, have you not?” “ Well, really, captain, I haven’t wondered much about it,” responded the old man, “for I have a teenad good idea. In my grand-daughter, I know here is an attraction that would lure a king from his throne.” “You speak truthfully, colonel; but I have won- dered at your not penetrating a secret connected with my visits at Fairmont Place.” “ Bill—Captain Walton,” said the old man, stern- i Shakes | you will not attempt to win Agnes's love. t is true, lowe you much, but as I have told you before, she is betrothed to her cousin Clement Fair- mont whom I have been e ting over from Eng- land the past year, to claim her in marriage. The Fairmonts’ fair name shall not perish with old Samuel. But, captain, why do you smile? Do you think me an old fool?—a heartless wretch?” ‘** Not at all, colonel,’ answered British Bill, ‘‘ but T'll soon tell you why—look at that letter,” and from a package that he brought with him, he took a paper and passed it to Fairmont. he old man looked it over. He at once recognized it being in his own hand-writing, and to his surprise and astonishment, found it was the last letter he had eae Clement Fairmont of Darnly, Yorkshire, A ery burst from the old man’s lips. ‘*How came you by this?’ he asked. “Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the young royalist, “I came by it honorably, since Iam Clement Fairmont /” “My Redeemer!’ burst from the colonel’s lips, as he started to his feet, “‘can this be true, can it, I say?” an is a fact, grandfather,” replied the captain; “here are papers and documents sufficient to con- vince you of the fact.” He gee a number of letters written by the colonel, himself, to Clement Fairmont within the past five years. He also produced some old family records reaching back over a period of thirty years. They were arranged in chronological order, and some of the first the old colonel recognized, having assist- ed Clement’s father in writing them before he left England. It had been eighteen years since the old man had seen Clement Fairmont; and in that time he had grown from a child of afew years to manhood. Of course, he did not recognize him as he bore little re- semblance to the Fairmonts; but the letters and papers placed identity beyond a doubt, and spring- ing to his feet the colonel seized the captain's hand andin tones full of the deepest emotions, welcomed him to Fairmont Place. And then after the excite- ment had subsided, he exclaimed: “Boy, why have you kept your identity so secret?” “My object, you will approve of, I know, grand- father. Knowing that Agnes Melross was to marry aman she had never seen, I was afraid she would take a dislike to me as that person, and profiting by the example of the Oriental prince, King of Buch- aria, I resolved to gain her affections before I made myself known. efore leaving England, I pur- chased a commission of captain in the royal service, that I might be enabled to carry out my purpose without detection; and under the name of Captain Walton, British Bill, and so forth, have I been known hereabouts: but there is my commission to Clement Le Penigaeed ‘ 8 se 4 boy!” exclaimed the old man, detente paper an glancing over it with a smile of delight, 11 , “you have taken a wise and judicious plan in bring- paces when something swung aguinst his | | i inv about the meeting between you and Agnes, and I think you have wen by it. I have been afraid all along that you were winning Agnes's affections; and felt anxious for your departure from this vicinity on that account. My son, you have the Fairniout ride, foresight and courage. But how long has it en since you landed in America?’ “ Bight months ago I landed at New York, and eet. | outin this direction, reising my little company of artisans as Icame. So you see, now, why I have gabon around Fairmont Place as I have.” “ Bravo! my lad; you are worthy of the name of Fairmont, whose national pride and chivalric de- votion can be traced back to the gallant knights of the Middle Ages; and—"’ At this juncture Agnes Melross entered the room, unaware of British Bill’s presence. * Agnes, my child,” the old man exclaimed before she had even time to speak, “I have a happy sur. rise for you. It hes just Leen revealed to me that his gallant young captain is Clement Fairmont. Welcome him, my daughter, to Fairmont Place, his future home.” But Agnes did no euch a thing. She was so thun- derstruck by the unwelcome news that she turned deadly pale, and staggering, fell in a dead faint at the feet of British Bill. “Poor child!’ exclaimed the old colonel, “the joyful news was too much for her sensitive nature.” A momentary excitement prevailed. Agnes was conveyed into an epee chamber and placed up- on a bed; while old Mrs. Fairmont and Kathleen, the honsekeeper, busied themselves in restoring her to consciousness. For a while the maiden's life was despaired of, but no sooner were signs of returning consciousness manifested, than the heartless old Samuel and his grandson returned to the sitting-room to make ar- rangements for the consummation of the latter's marriage with Agnes. “Tt must not be delayed an hour yd than pos- sible, Clement,” the old man said, ‘“‘I have bad a oresentiment that Iam not long for this world; and want-to see the event, which must needs ie retu- ate the name of the Fairmonts, celebrated ore I die. Suppose we set to-morrow evening for the wedding, my son. That will be far enovgh off, I am. sure, for all arrangements. I will see Parson Find- ley, our neighbor, and secure his services for the occasion, He is a dyed-in-the-wool Whig, but them he’ll not hesitate to do anything in his line for a crown or two of silver.” British Bill made no objection to the cold man’s ar- rangements. On the contrary, they secmed to please him, for he readily acquiesced in every particular. When Agnes had fully recovered from her swoon, the captain was admitted to her presence. They held a long, and apparently happy, conversation. British Bill spoke of the love he had entertained for her since he first saw her; and while she made no declaration of reciprocal affection, he felt as- sured that she loved him. They talked but little cf their future, but when their interview ended, and the copteés rose to leave, he said: “T shall now go back to camp, Agnes, and by to- morrow evening I Ne, te to see you fecling as though you were supremely happy over the event that is to make us man and wife forever.” Agnes colored slightly, and although she made no resistance to his kissing her brow, her heart grew sick with loathing scorn; and the face of Delaware Dick, to whom she had pllented her love, rose be- fore her mental vision, filling her soul with the most. torturous emotions. _ CHAPTER XX. CORNWALLIS INTERVIEWS GERALDINE MILINOTT, Lorp CornNWALLis was both mortified end cnraged when he discovered that General Washington hed escaped from him at Trenton ard maiched upon Princeton while he was resting a great and brilliant victory over the rebel arms, In. fact, the sudden and unexpected chance in the situation, at once ay him upon the defensive—tax- ing his utmost skill and nett to prevent his defeat turning into an inglorious panic. As soon as he had ciscovered Warhirgton’s move- ments, Cornwallis abandoned his own comp and marched rapidly toward New Brunswick, fearing lest the baggage and military stores collected there should fall into the hands of_the vicorious enemy. He reached Princeton just as Washington was leay- ing, and as the latter felt that he was in no condition to give battle, owing to two days and nights’ over- work, he crossed the river, destroyed the bridge, and moved rapidly away toward the upper regions of New Jersey, and finally encamped at Morristown. Here his suffering army sought rest and repose, and arespite from the arduous duty of the ficld te celebrate the victories of Trenton and Princeton. Cornwallis pushed on to New Brunswick, where he went into camp to await further orders from Sir Henry Clinton. He made his own head-quarters in the house of a citizen Joyal to the crown, end here, on the day following his arrival, he assembled his generals in council. age 4 their the Jerseys The latter were atly depressed in recent losses, and threatened recovery by Washington; and after all had freely expressed themselves on the subject, Cornwallis said: “In my opinion, the victories of the rebels are all owing to the perfect and regular system of com- munications kept up between the two armies by their spies, of whom Delaware Dick was the most notorious, And in this efficient branch of the ser- vice ee have a decided sdvantage over us. The royal and rebel element in the colonies are one ple; or, in other words, one family be’ members itis hard to discrimina tween whose. te. We have got te 7 in full confidence of | 7
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er extend every favor to those of prefessed sympathy he enemy’s spies a | Fegee opportunity by their we advantage of our d riend of ours can #eek no refuge in the American camp, even by the With the rebels, a man must either be a soldier in their ranks, Therefore, our where the rebel * Prodigal Tom, my lord, has been a successful with the king; and this gives ness, On the other hand, a most perfidious and artful treachery. or else he is persecuted as a Tory. spies have a dozen dangers to risk spies have but one,” BDy,” said one of the generals. “Yor whom?” “ Why, the king, of course,’’ answered the officer, surprised at Cornwallis’s question, At this juncture an orderly entered and announced Marble, who was desir- the presence of one Wesle ous of seeing the commander. ‘*Show him in at once,” said Cornwallis, eagerly, “TI desire a private interview with him.” This was a hint for the officers to retire, and the next moment Wesley Marble, the Tory, was ushered “Ty ind eneral,’’ replied Marble, “ but not hin : I didn’t think into the general's presence. “Well, Mr. Marble,” said the commandant “—— you have been busy since we last met.’ es, as busy as Was he'd men sponge “Of this, 3 time,”’ said the British general reminded nf vey Tory of his i ington has kept you. to whip a corporal’s guard.” ate disastrous cam- paign; “ bu ou have anything to report con- ova the Melinott family, I shall be pleased to ear it.’’ “T have a good report to make, general,” answer- ed the old Tory; * by tracing them up, I succeeded ae the widow Melinott and her daughter, Ger- 2. ’ “ Ah, indeed!’’ exclaimed the general. “Yes; and what is more, they are living in New Soman sei, and upon this very street, three doors south,” “Then one or both of them shall be summoned here at once,” said Cornwallis, and touching a bell on the table at his side, an orderly immediately an- swered the **Glaston,”’ the general said, addressing the order- ly, “I have a request to make of you. It is that you Rrootey to the residence of the widow Melinott three oors south on this street, and request the widow eh ad daughter to call at my quarters without de- ‘But, suppose they refuse to come, general,’’ said the orderly. ‘Impress upon their minds the im their coming without delay. Tell them that I desire — them upon a matter of interest to them- selves.”’ Glaston retired and at once proceeded to the resi- ; dence designated. He found the mother and daughter alone. The former was an elderly lady of some fifty y whose calm, composed features de indicative of patient suffering and silent forti- ude, The cevehter was not over eighteen, and possessed of astately form and features that were wonderful in their beauty and power of expression, Her eyes were of a dark brown, and as they met those of the orderly, he felt that they were possessed of a necro- mantic power—the power of noble womanhood radi- atod from a pure and spotless soul. Orderly GlJaston at once introduced himself, and turning to the elderly female, said: **Madame, I am requested to say, that the pres- ence of yourself and daughter is required at the quar- ters of his excellency, Lord Cornwallis.” For what?” asked Geraldine, with imperious dig- nity. 7 I know not, more than that it is for something concerning yourselves.”’ The mother and daughter exchanged glances, and while the color faded from the face of the former and fear seemed to seize upon her heart, the face o: the other flushed crimson, her eyes flashed scorn, and her whole countenance assumed a look of disdain. “ Has Cornwallis come here to make war upon wo- men?” the young woman demanded. 0 Not at all, madame,” answered the officer, po- li i. ‘* Suppose, then, we ignore his summons?” “T advise you, ladies, to see him. It will save you ’ the embarrassment of having the general call upon ou,”’ ‘**Mother,”’ said Geraldine, ‘‘I will go alone to Cornwallis’s presence. I fear him not, nor bis de- ” sens this the mother made no dissent, and so attir- ing herself, Geraldine set out for the commandant’s head quarters, accompanied by Orderly Glaston. In a few minutes she was ushered into the general's presence, and introduced to him, Cornwallis received her with as much ceremony y | and politeness as though she had been one of tive highest born ladies of the realm; and as soon as she had been seated, he said: “Miss Melinott, it almost seems that I am ac- ; quainted with you, having known your brother, bi to a Tom, solong. And Ihave met your broth- ; er, Delaware Dick, to whom you bear a remarkable resemblance.” ** You have heard, have you not, general, that my brother Dick was killed in the Raritan valley a few days ago?’ Geraldine said. * The sad intelligence reached my ears yesterday; and I now desire to ress my heartfelt s th fer you and : “ness a our mother in your affliction, sin- _ eerely regret that Dick ever espoused the cause that arrayed him his brother and king, and led to his untimely death.” “T am sorry, general,’ Geraldine exclaimed, with Marble, you can speak another displeased at being rtance of _to his breast, said: * all the fervency of her soul, ‘that I have no other friends to give in the cause of freedom.” * You have abesdy a a father and brother, I be- lieve,’ observ: ornwaliis, caf vit “ Yes; my father was murdered by British Bills Tories; be was not killed.” : “Miss Melinott,” said Conneets, fixin, deg ing look upon the young woman’s face, ‘I have jus oeensd that you never had but one brother, and that HIs name was T'homas R. Melinott /” 4 Geraldine was taken completely by surprise. A thunderbolt from the wintry sky would not have sur- prised her more. The color receded from her face, and fixing a nat Geapalring look upon the face of the | wily general, she said: ed oisit that presumes to know more of my fam- ily, than I do myself?” ; ; “One Wesley Marble,” replied Cornwallis. a ‘As vilea Tory as ever burned a Patriot home, returned Geraldine, her eyes flashing with indigna- tion. f / “Then you do not deny his assertion, Miss Meli- nott?”’ “‘T deny nothing—I make no concessions one oranother. You know pe yyy = was, who Prodigal Tom is; and so let suffice. “Very well, Miss Melinott,”’ the British general said, touching the bell at his side, in answer to which the orderly ap “this is all that I wished to see you about. You will please accept my kindest wishes and regards for your and your mother’s wel- fare, Glaston, you now escort Miss Melinott home.” Cornwallis accompanied her to the door and kindl bidding her good-day, returned to his table and seat- ing himself, took up a pen and hastily dashed off a note. Then he summoned Sergesx® Lovertage, m3 special i ave the r, saying: oon Sere fey (Fang . hard die for you: take this dispate: and ride with all speed to Fairmont Place, twenty-five miles south of here, and deliver it into the hands of Captain Walton, alias British Bill. Guard it with your Bie, sand halt not until the camp f the partisan is reached.” ne General, your command shall be obeyed,” replied Sergeant Loveridge; and bowing himself out o the pores present he ee his horse and gal- away upon mission, * ut little. d the thousands, who had heard the name of Delaware eae ys oe ae eon daily for the past yearin the valley of the De . avouan of the ptartling facts contained in the dispatch sent to British Bill. CHAPTER XXI. NOT APPROVED. As the courier, sent to obtain Washington’s approv- al of Prodigal Tom’s sentence as a British spy, would be compelled to journey to Morristown where the general had taken up his winter-quarters, he could not reasonably be expected back and for fear of an attempt being made by the enemy to release the condemned man, Major Dalrymple, of the dragoons, and Lieutenant Banks, of the Scarlet Wings, moved their camp down to Clay’s Point, a little village or settlement of about a dozen log hou- ses, half of which were unoccupied. This placed them about six miles from British Bill’s camp. They took up their quarters in the deserted cabins; and asthe people remaining in the village were all Patriots, the pag i tt were hospitably entertained. Guards were posted on all the roads and by-ways converging at that point; and every precaution tak- en to guard against surprise. And it was well that they did all this, for they had scarcely passed a day in the village when British Bill came ewroestng down from Fairmont Place like a whirlwind, and attempt- ed to carry every thing before them by storm. But they were promptly met by a deadly fire from the Patriots whom they had expected to take by sur- prise, but who ly turned out to be the surprise rty. ia dozen of the enemy were unhorsed at the first fire, which terrible loss caused the Tories to check their advance, when they were soon driven Jack un- der cover of the woods. ; Feeling certain, however, of their ability to dis- lodge the patriots, the enemy dismounted, and form- ing upon foot withlIn the forest, they charged upon the Americans again. The latter were posted in a good position behind a garden-wall, and were enabled to see the enemy the moment they issued from the woods and pour a. de- structive fire into their ranks. Before half the ais- tance between the woods and fence had been tra- versed, British Bill fell seriously wounded. This terminated the battle, and, with their wounded cap- tain, the Tories again withdrew into the woods. Here they held a short consultation, when it was decided t oe up the battle, and withdraw in the direction of Fairmont Place to await reinforcements. Ignorant of this decision, however, our friends ex- pected another attack the coming night, and so they made ab rations to meet it. Prodigal Tom was securely locked in one of the strongest buildings, and a double guard placed over him, When the sol- rye lay down to rest, it was with their guns at their sides. Thus the first hours of night passed quietly away; a horseman, galloping up from the direction of New Brunswick, was suddenly halted by a voice issuing from the shadows by the roadside; and two patriot sentinels confronted him. Involuntarily the man drew up, and before he could recover from his surprise sufficiently to act, one of the sentinels seized his animal by the ote! while the other, presenting the muzzle of a musk way and | ort of two days; | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library | | and the very ““Dismount, sir Britisher, or you'll receive con ey of Ship gun.” cancel it f és. the * Confound your rebel skins,"’ began the E he ae promptly checked by the sentinel, who rad claimed: “Not a word, or I'll splatter your braing the night.” sch tad all over *“Tt’s stre at gives you courage,” man dismounting, and giving himself up; od 04 have you know that Gershom Leveridge {s yo Aa ard; nor is he a fool to contend with such odds + We “Of course not, Gershom,” replied one of captors. ‘‘ We observe you are a brave and Sensible man, and, therefore, will march you up to head quarters and introduce you to Major Dalrymple,” — Having relieved the courier of his weapcns they searched his pockets, his boots, and, in fact, eve: place where aby secret papers ht be concealed. t place they looked, they found ¢ 2 hag paper. aan cing. it Pid to the moonlight, they were enable o see was superscri Captain William Walton. i to Without attempting to read the note, the sentinelg waited until the corporal of the guard came around and relieved them, when they proceeded at once to camp, and delivered the prisoner and his dispatch The latter was seated, in company with Harry Banks and several of the Scarlet Win before a roaring fire, in one of the cabins; and as he took the dispatch and turned to the light to read it, the door opened, and a man entered the room amid the mur- mur of excited voices. Dalrymple turned to the new-comer, and, to hig surprise, Saw that it was the courier whom he had dispatched to Washington’s head-quarters for the _ reas signature to Prodigal Tom's death-sep- _ nce. ““Why, Corporal Jarvis!” he exclaimed have taken us completely by surprise. We not expecting you so soon,” hanna ae wry te at eae nights and chilly w * rep courier, seal hitaself beiore the cheery fire. > ting ‘And you saw Washington, of course,” said Dal. rymple. “Ves: he is at Morristown, and will remain there _ through the winter,” the corporal answered, with a provoking ease of manner, as if courting the inter. ; est centered in him, and, apparently, Sesiccae of 4 working his friends’ anxiety up to the highest pitch a of excitement. He removed his gloves, and held his before the glowing fire. He warmed hig feet, one at a time; yawned tertile then arose, and from the lining of his hat produced a paper which he placed in Dalrymple’s hand. A All knew what it was, and as the major unfolded — the paper, his friends gathered around him almost — breathless with suspense. Pik ts ‘* Let us have order, now, soldiers,” exclaimed the _ cSoenns “and I will read ashington’s ap, roval,”’ ; » A dead silence, broken only by the roar of the fire on a eee and the whistle of the wind outside, | preva ls E In a deep, strong voice, the major read: x “The sentence of Prodigal Tom, as a British Spy. is not approved, You will, therefore, release the “ prisoner, EORGE WASHINGTON,” ~~ The little band of patriots were thunderstruck by i: this order of their commander-in-chief; anda mur. _ mur of dissatisfaction and dissent rose from every _ lip. The major himself was astonished. He see no just reason for liberating the young Tory and spy. e had been proven guilty by the most convin. cing evidence; but this, it is true, had not been sub. _ mitted to Washington, as Dalrymple did not suppose _ the general would take exceptions to his cous aie action after having intrusted the trial of Prodigal Tom to him and his command. ee. ‘** Boys,” the major said, ‘I am_ astonished by Washington’s course in this matter.” : ae: 8 ean are, ail operons creda Pig a Scarlet — Ying, “an or one, declare rodigal Tom shall die!” es ““Ay! ay!” chorused a dozen voices. And the words of the Scarlet Wing soon became kindled into _ a aes blaze that spread through the camp like fi wild-fire. 1a Major Dalrymple aw at once the course the muti. _ ny would take, aad. endeavored to quell it; but as well might he have attempted to check the onward rush of a torrent. Never before had his follower s shown such an utter ard of his commands; — their very souls seemed filled with the spirit of re bellious nature; and he knew that Washington's own — orders would be ate and the prisoner become — the victim of an infuriated mob. Insuch a case, the major knew that he would be held amenable for the deed, and to avert such a calamity now became the great object of his mind. ie Finding that there was no > prospect of quelling the riot, he stole out of his quarters toward the building in which Prodigal Tom was confined. Arrived at t | over to Major Dalrymple. “ you | were YY SES | % a) - answer. . “You are not—you are said the major; ‘ i Tom esca) treachery or bribery set him at liberty?” _ ‘* Neither, jor,” replied the guard, with “‘upon my word and honor as a soldier—as_ there is a heaven, I have let no one but you at this door to-nixht.” irises as “I dare sey you bave not, for the back-
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i & rs i a | j ; r 3 a T - # J ee ¥ the whole has been exploded, I mus ta a and Delaware Dick produced the very case of . tpn fi and vials of liquids that had been found epen.” replied Dalrymple, dubiously; ‘‘and I am gene the far of the polis will lead them to acts “ay wil when eh gees Sie bo ecalies - . They will tear me eces— e guar but before he had finished, two score of soldiers, car- = flaming torches, and headed by the Scarlet Wings, came rushing toward the cabin evidently bent upon destruction. At the door of the cabin ‘were met by the guard, with fixed bayonet, and or Dalrymple. They were clamoring for the blood of the prisoner, but were calmly informed by { te major that the subject of their proposed disgrace | escaped. JA of dismay and baffled rage escaped every lip, and for a moment their bitter indignation found ba le in threats of vengeance and execrations. ajor Dalrymple endeavored to explain to them how tho prisoner had escaped, and exonerate the guard from a blame; but his words were answered with cries of derision. The guard now became the object of their , and the mob was closing in around him when a sharp, piercing whistle thrilled through the chill, crispy air, and startled the Scarlet Wings as though the horn of Gabriel, itself, had suddenly announced the end of time. The whistle, though keen and sharp, came forth iar wavering intonation y the pgh with a j hat would have been hard to imitate; and what , the attention of the Scarlet Wings so particu- eA. was its being an exact imitation of Delaware ’s wonderful siznal, which combined the whole code of the Scarlet Wings’ secret communication. The infuriated mob became motionless, silent. The torches were held aloft—their flickering beams of light throwing a weird, death-like pallor over the three-score of fixed faces around. ‘Harry,” said one of the Scarlet Wings to young “that was Delaware Dick’s signal as true as lever heard it.” “My God!” exclaimed Banks, “‘ can it be possible that he is alive—that he escaped from—”’ Before he could finish, the veritable Delaware Dick, If, in blood and flesh, appeared before him. the young patriot risen out of his grave to re- buke his followers for their unsoldierly conduct to- ward his brother, Prodigal Tom, they would not have been more completely overcome. They started with wild astonishment and fear upon their A low, pleasant laugh burst from the lips of Dela- ware Dick. It broke the horrible spell that was his men to recoil before him; and then like 4 wave they closed in around him, and shouts of joy pealed from their lips. : For several minutes the wildest confusion reigned, and when it finally began to subside, Major Dalrym- ple, with a torch in one hand and the dispatch taken m the British courier, Loveridge, in the other, mounted a stump and exclaimed: One moment, fellow-soldiers; I hold in my hand the dispatch taken from the enemy’s courier to- pant, and which I had forgotten until this moment. Tt throw some light on the appearance of Dela- Tor Dick here; and the disappearance of Prodigal A dead silence fell upon the party. In a clear, metallic voice the major read: “CArTaIn WitiraMm WALTON: : Sim—you will lose no time in placing Prodigal Tom under arrest. I have been convinced beyond a doubt that Delaware Dick and Prodigal Tom are one nd the same person, however strange it may appear to YOu—one whose conduct, sympathies and power of Sception must brand him the most infamous spy in the service of George Washington. ‘Your obedient servant, etc., | * Mis-Gen, CORNWALLIS,’ Ae cry of astonishment burst from every lip, and then followed a general rush of torches and men to- Ward the spot where Delaware Dick stood; and the excited throng became as wild with enthusiasm and Joy as it had been fierce with the spirit of rage and vengeance, CHAPTER XXII. THE SECRET OF THAT LITTLE CASE, RA. was an hour before the excitement, occasioned y the return of Delaware Dick, asif from the grave, Gubsided in the camp at Clay’s Point. The Scarlet th had never entertained the faintest hope of eir Aeon 4 leader being alive. They felt cerfain that he fallen a victim at the conflict in Samuel Fairmont’s library. However, when all had become pert and the Scarlet Wings with Dick repaired to oa quarters in one of the cabin's, Harry Banks “ that there is any Diek ‘ou don’t mean to sa nt ' 4 of Cornwallis, do truth co ; you?” mtained in that dispat ell, really, Harry, if there was any show of me the secret useful in behalf of our cause would be very clear of piven | it; but confess the ruth of Cornwallis’s suspicions; I am as well as Delaware Dick.” thundered Surgeon ti m Z. y’ possible! impossible ‘zal “you don’t favor Pr Gwynplane; Zom More than the major there does a mud * Then you think Iam trying to shield my brother, Tom, do you, surgeon?” fk @hem |—well, * stammered the surgeon, “I did y so.’ “No, but you thought so; but the fact of it is, I ‘Rever here,” a brother, and the whole secret lies rig the person of om. ‘Just about a af the war, I had on + = Delaware Dick. tospend afew months hunting and fishing up among the northern waters of New York. While there, 1 became the guest of a young Indian chief, named Hu-ron-ah-wa, who treated me with all the civilities of a high-born gentleman. ee. my stay he re- vealed to me the secret of a great discovery that an old Indian doctor had made. That secret was a pro- cess, and a very simple one too, by which the human features could be temporarily changed beyond re- cognition by anintimate friend. The idea had been suggested to the old Indian doctor by the sting of a bee, which produced a swelling of the face of the one stung, and a change in his looks, Now, that Somer like all progressive doctors, went to thinking, “Hal ha! ha!” laughed Surgeon Gwynplane, facetiously, ‘‘ talk of progression in an Indian camp —that’s good.” “Well, at any rate,my dear Gwynplane, the old doctor was acquainted with the medical properties of every plant in the vegetable kingdom around him, and I daresay, some of our white doctors could take lessons of him in both medicine and surgery.” * An old root doctor—yes, yes; that’s old women’s aig a protested the surgeon—‘‘ old women and erbs.” “Well, to continue,’ Dick went on, ‘‘ there was a certain plant known to the old doctor, yielding a thin, watery liquid, a drop of which injected under the skin would produce swelling without any out- ward signs of inflammation or any feeling of pain. And, strange to say, that swelllng would last a month, unless reduced or a counter-irritant. This, of course, the old doctor had no difficulty in obdtain- ing, in the juice of another plant. So much for the idea suggested by the sting of a bee. Hu-ron-ah-wa had the old doctor demonstrate his discovery while I was there. A chr Indian girl, very pretty and shy, presented herself for the experiment to be tried upon, The doctor put a drop of the liquid in a hol- low, steel needle that he had made himself, and then inserted the point into the skin under the eyebrows. As the point was withdrawn, the liquid flowed out into the wound, and in a few minutes the delicately- penciled brows of the girl were heavy and beetling— giving her a downcast and sullen look. I would never have known her, had I not seen the operatlon performed. In the course of a few hours, another needle was filled with the counter-poison and the point inserted under the skin near the first wound, and—well, I was surprised. In ten minutes’ time that girl was herself again. All the swelling had disappeared, and there was no more trace of the operation left than a musketo bite would produce.” Surgeon Gwynplane looked reflectively into the fire, while the soldiers with bated breath listened to the young spy’s sto ” en the war ability; and to act in a double capacity—as a spy to Washington and the British, with my sympathies, of course, on the patriot side. In order to do this I must needs d e myself, and happening to think of the old Indian doctor’s discovery, I determined_to see him and obtain the secret. So [ rode up to Hu- ron-ah-wa's lodge, and succeeded in aio es | from the old doctor these two vials of liquids. Then I went to New York and had a manufacturer of sur- gical instruments make me these two hollow needles. greta F y operating on nose, I absolutely They didn’t know me, I ti swelling. Then they were astonished. ; what tT intended to do—that as Prodigal Tom, I in- tended to serve the enemy or British; and, as Dela- ware Dick, the patriots; and that I wished to con- vey to the world that there were two Melinott boys, Tom and Dick. Of course, there were some of our my eyebrows, my cheeks, lips and frightened my mother and sister. nor would they believe it was ‘Lroke out,” continued Dick, “T | resolved to serve my country to the best of my | | when he did, his face bore the look of hopeless despair home, I tested the matter thoroughly. | I lied the counter-poison and reduced the | eet r a I told them | neighbors that knew better, and in order to keep the | matter away from positive proof as long as ah Ihad my mother and sister move out of the Dela- ware valley and conceal themselves. Then I went to work; first 1 raised my band of Scarlet Wings, and ot them into working order, and made a name— Belaware Dick, the ng-of-the-Wind. This much accomplished, I disguised my ss en’ Mag ro- cess already explained, and went over into a Lory district in Pennsylvania, and by representing myself | as Delaware Dick’s brother, raised and equipped a company of rangers; and for this act I at once be- came known as Prodigal Tom by friends and foes. “Then that explains why you were absent from us so often,” said a Scarlet Wing; “and why we could never draw Prodigal Tom into a fight; one man commanded the two battalions.” c “Tt is singular we didn’t mistrust something of the kind before,’ added another, ‘‘for I now begin to see what Dick meant when he spoke in riddles at different times, about ‘a power behind the throne.’ Ever since our company has been organized, I have noticed that we have been constantly dogged by one strange personage, and that is the Indian vaga yond, Doctor Dave, who has been hanging around camp here for a week. Ishouldn’t wonder but that he is the Indian doctor who discovered the means of your | disguise, Dick, and that he has been playing between | the bands of Delaware Dick and Prodigal Tom to as- sist you in the extreme cases.” “Thave nothing to say to your surmises, friend Conrad,’ Dick replied evasively. my mother and sister, and the throne,” are the only ae gee save the All-Seeing Eye, that I know of, tha up to the time Cornwallis found it out. netrate the secret is a mbar 4 ave always entertained fears of tell the truth, I have played the double rod longer than I had expected at first, for 1 was afraid some How he did **Washington, | “power behind the | t knew aught of my secret | to me, though I | etection. And to | | Ris papers, 13 of my old Tory rat ‘cae would reveal the fact that: I had no brother Tom, and thereby lead to my ex- pacar But if Ido say so myself, boys, I have ren- ered our cause some good service—so have you, my brave Scarlet Wings, and so has that mysterious. friend whose name I cannot mention. But this, my friends, I hope is sufficient explanation as to my: presence here alive; but had it not been for that ¢i®-- patch of Cornwallis’s, I should never have reveo! 1 one word of _ cherished secret to you so long a: £ could have made it useful to our country and ca:.se. As to how I escaped from the cabin a few months ago, I shall not tell you now.” “What is settled in my mind,” said Conrad, he: who stood guard at the cabin door, “ that old Indian, Doctor Dave, whom some of the boys s bs drummed out of camp, has not been lurking around here the last two days for recat, Boge his vagaboud innocence. I daresay, he’s not to be found in camp now. But, Dick, how did you escape death at Fair- mont Place that memorable night of the conflict?” “Well, during the fight Iwas knocked senselese by a clubbed musket in the hands of a Tory. I feil, near the open door, and when I come to again, } found myself in the woods. Two persons were by me; one was a negro servant of old Samuel Fair- mont, and the other was—that noble friend who haa been a guardian angel to me so often when death stared me in the face. ‘‘Well, wishing the report to go abroad that Dela~ ware Dick was dead, I concluded to remain in seclu- sion and so joined my band of Tory partisans and went into camp with British Bill. Being located. near Fairmont e,I had free admittance to the old man's house where, come to think of it, dwelt another that knew that Delaware Dick was not slain the night of the battle. That person was Agnes: Melrose, Fairmont’s lovely grand-daughter.” “Love, by Jupiter!’ exclaimed Surgeon Gwyn- lane. ‘‘I knew it would end in this, You remem- r what Itold you, boys, about that note found on the person of vodigal Tom the night we captured him, don’t you? Didn’t I say it was some love affair? oe ha! fool old Eleazer Gwynplane. M. D., will you?’ CHAPTER XXII. DEATH OF AN IMPOSTOR. On the day following British Bill’s attack on Major Dalrymple at Clay’s Point, Samuel Fairmont was waited upon by a Tory who requested the old man’s immediate presence at the quarters of Captain Wal- ton at Cross Hollows. As the coming evening was the time fixed for the marriage of Agnes with the captain, the colonel supposed he was wanted re- garding that affair; and without questioning the soldier, he ordered out his carriage and at once Gove rapidly to Cross Hollows. t was three hours or more before he returned, and and sorrow. Agnes met him at the door, and clasping him by the arm to steady his tottering form, exclaimed: of page oy oe what is the matter? Are you sick?” “Oh, God!’ exclaimed the old man, sinking into a chair; ‘‘yes, Agnes, yes. I am sick of life—of the whole world and its deception.” “What has happened? Oh, dear! what has hap- | pened, ndpapa?” * British Bill is dead, and I am glad of it,’ was the boo ye reply, spoken in a cold, hellow tone. cr of it, and ?” cried Agnes; ‘glad that your kinsman dead? crabs “*Kinsman!’’ hissed the old man; ‘‘he was no kins- manof mine. He was an impostor, the black-heart- ed devil! He confessed all to me before he died.” Agnes’s brain grew dizzy with the whirl of excite- ment born of the moment. She sat down on a sofa, and, for a moment, a dead silence reigned in the lor. Presently the colonel turned his chair, and acing her, said: ““ Agnes, I shudder when I think of how near I came of ruining your life and happiness, by forcin you to wed one who had produced all the evidence could have asked of his being Clement Fairmont. But last night, thank the Lord, British Bill went down to Clay’s Point and attacked a party of pro- vincials there, and not only got whipped, but re- ceived a wound of which he died a few minutes ago. Before he died, however, he confessed to me that, on last Wednesday, he intercepted a young British eaptain on the road near here, and upon searching his effects found that he was Captain Clement Fair- mont, who was coming to our place. He had been captured by the Americans at Princeton, but was. free on parole. As I had in confidence told British Bill all our family secrets—especially your engage- ment to your cousin, whose coming was daily ex pected—he resolved to take advantage of it, ana step into Clement’s shoes and wed you. So he kept Clement a prisoner until night set in, then he sent him on_ toward Fairmont; but, with two men, he followed him, overtook him, and, having secured all took him out into the woods and hung him dead. Here the old man broke down and sobbed bitterly; but finally recovering his composure, he continued: “Then with these papers—those letters of mine to Clement, and those old family documents that have been in our family a hundred years—he came here, and, bold and fearless wretch that he was, made me believe that he was Clement Fairmont. All the time that he has been hanging around Fairmont. Place, it has been to win your love. If he had been away fighting where he was needed, our mansion would to-day be standing. And, Agnes, th that ended the life of British Bill has made a} atriot of me! life ang means to the cau Henceforth, I shall devote my the colonists!" “Oh, grandpapa ed Agnes, springing to ber
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— —— tf ani clasping her arms n thus.” * Agnes,” said the old man, ‘why have you al- ways been such an ardent patriot?” *Grandpapa,’’ answered Agnes, with the soul of love and joy, pa'riot soldier.” *T thought so all along, my child. But who is that patriot?” * Delaware Dick.” ‘Delaware Dick?” cried the colonel. “Do you mean to tell me that you loved Delaware Dick?” Yes, erandpapa; and I love him yet.” “ Ru he is dead, my child—both he and Clement are dead.” **Grandpapa Fairmont,’ smiling through her tears, for you.” "Ah, indeed, my child?” “Yos; if you area = now, you must be re- joiv-ed to learn that Delaware Dick is livinz.”’ ‘*H avens! what next!” exclaimed the colonel. “What uext? Why, grandpapa, Clement Fair- mont is not dead either.” **Ob, Lord!” burst from the old man’s _ and, leaninz forward, he gazed into Agnes’s face as thouch he doubted what she said, ‘ if this is true, how much longer would you have kept it from me?” * Not much longer—I'd have told it in time to keep from marrying British Bill. Clement Fairmont is here now.” As she spoke, the door leading into the adjoining room was opened, and a young man in the uniform of a British captain entered the room, followed by old Grindy, the darkey. “This, grandpapa,”’ said mont.’ The young officer advanced, and, taking the old man’s hand, said: ** My dear old relative, it affords me pleasure to meet you at last.” Samuel Fairmont burst into tears. In the pale, yet handsome face of the young officer, he beheld the features of his own dead boy—the father of Clement; and in his voice there was that familiar soun’l, which carried him baci to happier days. Intuition told him that this man was ho ap eagee, and after he had mastered his emotion, he ex- claimed: “Oh, my children! my children! what a day this has been to me.” “Compose yourself, ‘ randfather,”’ said Clement, *‘ for all is now understood.” * Ah, my boy! tell me how it comes that you are here at this moment,” said the colonel; ‘* tell me ” her eyes beaming Agnes, “is Clement Fair- “Your faithful servant here brought me to the house an hou‘ orso ago. by direc'ion of Agnes, Since the pizht that Bri ish Bill attempted my life I have been concealed in a cavern near here, and taken care of by your negroes, who rescued me from death while coon-hunting.” “ God bless their black skins!’’ exc aimed the col- onel, joyfully, ‘Seach and all of them sha'l have a quarter-section of bis own. But, Clement, how long has it been since you came to America?” ‘Nearly a year; and I should have been here sooner, but having purchased a captain’s commis- sion in the army before leaving home, I was placed under Cornwallis and kept at my post up to the time of my capture at Princeton. But, gran father, I am goin? to resign my commission, believe this war on the colonies is unjust.” “T have become a patriot myself, Clement, within the last hour. 1 have received less kindness and fa- vors from the British in America than the Ameri- cans themselves.” Thus they talked on for more than an hour, Grindy and Agnes ad retired, leaving the old man and bis gran -son alone; and when the conversation had finally introduced the subject, the former said: “So I presume, Clement, you have come to fulfill your marriage contract with Agnes.”’ “T left England for that purpose, grandfather; | but since [ arrived in America I have had cause to ignore our childhood betrothal, and plight myself to | a patriot lady over in the Delaware Valley.” ** Ah! just as I expected," exclaimed the old man; “but it’s all right, Clement. Ishall not insist on your weddinz Agnes, for she, too, loves another— Delaware Dick.” “A brave and noble fellow is Delaware Dick, grandfather. I have known him nearly a year— even recognized him when a spy in camp, and when two words would have condemned him. But I had ledged tis mother and sister that I would not be- ray him, and so I kept my word.” “Ah! his mother and sicfer/ did you make the latter no other prom‘se?”’ the old man demanded, as the licht drifted in upon his mind. Yes,” the young man frankly responded, “TI | promised to make her my wife.” “T thought so. Well, God’s will bedone. Let us rejoice that it is even so,” said the old man, con- tentedly and with resignation. j _ Toward the close of the day rumors reached Foirmo-t Place that a body of provincial troops under Major Dalrymple and Delaware Dick was ap- proac ing from the east, ostensibly for the purpose of attacking the forces under British Bill, encamped at Cross Hollows; but about sunset the command halted and went into camp about a mile from the old colonel’s house. Samuel Fairmont seemed delighted with the news of Delaware Dick’s approach, and as soon as he foun! out that the party Lad gone into camp, he dispatched a servant with a note down to Dic Pages. 20 Cents, For Schools, Parlo:s, Entertainments and the Am. ateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas, Comedy, Farce, D ess Pieces, Humorous Dialogue and Burlesque, by :cted writers; and Recitationg and Readings, new nd standard, of the greatest celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof. A. M. Russell, DIME HAND-BOOKS. Young People’s Series. capa tan DIME ng gee FOR YOUNG PEOPLE cover a wide range of subjects, and are ospeci adaptea to their end. : my, Ladies’ Letter-Writer. Gents’ Letter-Writer. Book of Etiquette. Book of Verses. Book of Dreams. Hand-Books of Games. Handbook ef Summer Sports. Book of Crequet. 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HALE DIME Jack SMarkawayin New York; or.The | 159 The Lost Captain: or, Skipper Jabez 217 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Brigané; y 7 _ « Adventures or the Traveler’s Club. By Brace- Coffin’s Cruise to the Open Polar Sea. By Edward L. Wheeler. ; bridge Hemyng (Jack Harkaway). Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 218 'tiger Tom, the Texan Terror. By OA 102 Dick Dead-"ye, the Boy Smuggler; or, | 160 The Black Giant; or, Dainty Lance in Coomes. %, 7 The Cruise of the Vixen. By Ool. Ingraham. Jeopardy. By Jos, E. Badger Jr. 219 Despa d, the Duelist; or, The Mountain 103 The Lion of the Sex s or, The Vailed | 161 New Vork Nell, the Boy Girl Detective; or, Vampires. By Philip S. Warne. Lady of San Tropez. By Colonel Nelle Sara. Old Blakesly’s Money. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 220 Tom ‘Wanner, Scalawag and Scapegrace; — 101 Deadw od iek*’s Device; or, The | 162 Will Wildfire inthe Woods}; or, Camp or, The Black Sheep of the Flock. By Philip: __ Sign of the Double Cross. By E, L, Wheeler. Life in the Alleghanies. By Chas. Morris, S. Warne. 105 Old Mube, the Hunter; or, The Crow Cap- | 163 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. By | 221 Sugar-Coated Sam; or. Tre Black Gowne tive. By Captain Hamilton Holnes. Oll Coomes, of Giim Gulch. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 406 Old Frosty, the Guide; or, Nickana, the | 164 Dandy KRock’s Pledges or, Hunted to! 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport; or, The Womas White Queen of the Blackfeet. By T. C. _ Death. By George Waldo tirowne. Trailer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Harbaugh, 165 silly Bagge ge, the Railroad Boy; or, Run | 223 Ozark Alf, King of the Mountain; or, £07 «one-Kyed Sims; or, The Abandoned Forest to Earth. By Charles Morris. Featherweight Among the Outlaws. By Ed- Home. By James L. Bowen. : 166 Hickory Harry; or. The Trapper-Bri- ward \ illett. 403 Daring Davy, the Young Bear Killer; or, gade’s Spy. By Harry St. George. 224 Bashing Dick}; or, Trapper Tom’s Castle The Trail of the Border Wolf. By Harry St. | 167 Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy; or, The Land By Ol Coomes, ; George. Pirates of the Mississippi. t-y Ed. Willett. 225 Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky; or, 109 Deadvvood Dick As Detective. By | 168 Deadly Dash; or, Fizhting Fire With Fire. How the Koy Got Even. By Chas Mortis. Edward L. Wheeler. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 226 Snoozer, the Boy Sharp; or, The Arab De 410 whe Bivek Steed of the Prairies. By | 169 Tornado Vom; or, Injun Jack From Red tective. By Edward L. W hecler. James L. Bowen. : Core. By T, C. Harbauzh. 227 Dusky Darrell, Trapper; or. The Green 111 ‘fhe Sea-Devil; or, The Midshipman’s | 170 ** A Trump Card;° or, Will Wildfire Wins Ranger of the Yellowstone. by Edwin Emer Legacy. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. and Loses. By Charles Morris, F son, 112 ‘The Mad Rfuuter; or, The Cave of | 171 Ebony Dan3 or, The Rival Leagues of | 228 Little Wildfire, the Yourg Prairie Nomad: Death. By Burton Saxe. Silver Circle. By Frank Dumont. or, The Idyl of Echo Canyon. By Oll C.omes 113 Sack Hoyle the Young Speculater; or, | 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, The Wolf-Herder | 229 Crimson Kate, tie Girl Trailer; or, The The Road to Fortune, By E. L. Wheeler, of the Rockies. By Harry St. George. Cowboy’s Triumph. by Col. P. Ingrabam. 414 The Black Schooner; or, Jib vunk, the | 173 Dandy Rock?’s Bivai; or, The Hunted | 230 The Yankee Rajah} or, The Fate of the Old Tar. By Roger Starbuck. y Maid of Taos. By George Waldo Browne. Black Shereef. By C. Dunning Clark. 415 Khe Mad Miner; or, Dandy Rock's Doom, | 174 Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger; or, Mys- | 231 Plucky Phil, of the Mountain Traii; or By G. Waldo Browne. : teries of New York. By Charles Morris. Rosa, the Red Jezebel. By T. C. Harbaugh. 4116 Khe Mussar Captain; or, The Hermitof | 175 Captain Arizona, the King Pin of Road- | 232 Gold-Dust Dick. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Hell-Gate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. : Agents; or, Patent-Leather Joe’s Big Game. | 233 Joe Buck of Angels and His Boy Paré 417 Gilt-Kdged Dick, the Sport-Detective. By Philip S. Warne, Paul Powderhorn. By Albert W. Aiken. By Edward L. Wheeler. 176 The Boy Kunaway; or, The Buccaneer | 234 Old Rocky’s ‘* Boyees; or, Benito, £18 Will Somers, the Boy Detective By of the Bay. By Lieut. H.’D. berry, U.S. N. the Young Horse-Breaker. By Maj Sam 8 Charles Morris. : : 177 Nobby Nick of Newada; or, The Scamps Hall, * Buckskin Sam. 119 Maustans Sam; or, the King of the Plains. of the Sierras. By Edwar L. Wheeler. 235 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy; or. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 1738 Old Soli:ary, the Hermit Trapper; or, The Turning the Tables. By Charles Morris. 120 Whe Branded Hand or, The Man of Dragon of Silver Lake. By Ol] Coomes. 236 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado; or, Rowdy Mystery. By Frank Dumont. 179 Bob Kockett, the Bank Runner; or, The Kate from Right Bower. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 121 Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport; or. The Road to Ruin. By Charles Morris. - 237 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain; or, The Golden Idol of Mt. Rosa. By E. L, Wheeler. 180 The Sea Trailers or, A Vow Well Kept. Mysterious Ranchero, By Col. P_ Ingraham. 122 Phil Hardy, the Boss Bors or, The Mys- By Lieut. H. D. Perry, U. 8. N, 238 ' he Parson Detective; or, Little Shocky, tery of the Strongbow. By Charles Morris 181 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo; or, the Ranger of Raven Roost. By O]l Coomes. 123 Kiowa Charley, the White Mustanger. Lady Lily’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler. 239 Whe Gold-seeker Guide}; or, The Lost By T. C. Harbaugh. 182 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. By Mountain. By oa Mayne Reid. 124 Kippy, the Texan; or, The Young Cham- ~ Oll Coomes. 240 Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator; or, The _ pion. By George Gleason. 183 The Hidden Hands; or, Will Wildfire’s Locked Valley. By Edward L Wheeler. 125 Bonanza Bill, Miners or, Madam Mys- Revenge. by Charles Morris, 24i Sill Bravo, and His Bear Pards; or, The tery, the Female Forger. By E. L. Wheeler. 184 Whe Boy Trailers; or, Dainty Lance on Roughs of the Rockies. By T. C. Harbaugh. 126 Picayune E ete; or. Nicodemus, the Dog _ the War-Path. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 242 The Two * Bloods’; or, Shenandoah bil} __ Detective, By Char es Morris. 185 Evil Eye, King of Cattle Thieves; or, The and His Gang. By Charles Morris. 127 Wild-Fire, the Boss of the Road; or, The Vultures of the Rio Grande, By F. Dumont. 243 Khe Disguised Guide; 01. Wild Raven Wolves of Satan’s Gap. By Frank Dumont.) | 186 Cooi Desmends or, The Gambler’s Big the Ranger of the North. By Oll Coomes. 128 The Young Privateer ; or, The Pirate's Game. _ By Col. Delle Sara, 244 Sierra Sam, the Frontier Ferret; or, 4 ’ vq wtronghold. By Horry Cavendish. 187 Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Roy; or, The Sister’s Devotion, By Edward L, Wheeler. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double $08, The Smugglers of the Inlet. By Charles Morris. 245 Merle, the Middy; or. The Heir of av Ghost of Gorgon’s Gulch. By E, L. Wheeler, 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy; or, The Mad Ocean Freelance. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham 830 Hetective Dick or, The Hero in Rags. Hunter of Powder River. By T. C. Harbaugh. | 246 Giant George}; or, The Ang’l of the Range By Charles Morris. 189 Bob Rockett, the Cracksman; or, Driven By Major Sam 8. Hall— Buckskin Sam. 131 The Golden Hand}; or, Dandy Rock to to the Wall, By Charles Morris. 247 O'd Grizzly and His Pets. By Capt. the Rescue. By George Waldo Browne. 190 Dandy Darke; or, The Tigers of Hich * Bruin ’* Adams. 132 The Hunted Hunter; or, The Strange Pine. By Wm. R. iyster, 248 Sierra Sam’s Secret; or, The Bloody Horseman of the Prairie. Ry Edward 8. Bilis, | 191 Buffalo Biily, the Boy Bullwhacker; or Footprints. By Edward L, Wheeler. * 133 Boss Bob, the Kinz of Bootblacks; or, The The Doomed Thirteen. By Capt A. B. Taylor. | 249 Milo Romer, the Animal King; or. The >, Lawnbroker’s Plot, By Edward L. Wheeler. 192 Captsin Kit, the Will-o’ the-Wisp; or, The Round the World Wanderer. By Capt. Fred 134 Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman; or, The Mystery of Montauk Point, By Lieut. H. D. Whittaker. Young Patriots of the North. By Oll Coomes, Perry, U.S. N. 250 The Midshipman Mutineer; or 135 Captain Paul, the Kentucky Moonshiner; | 193 Captain Mask, the Lady Road-Agent; or, Brandt. the Buccaneer. By Col. P. Ingraham or, The Poy Spy of the Mountains, By C. Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat. By P. 8. Warne. | 251 Light-House Lige} or. Osceo!a, the Fire Dunning Clark, 194 Ruffalo Bills Bets or, The Gambler brand of the Everglades. By Captain J. F. © 136 Night-Hawk Kit; or, The Daughter of Guide. By Capt. Alfred B, Taylor, U.S. A. Adams. ; ~, the Ranch. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Ri- | 252 Dick Doshaway; or, A Dakota Boy in 137 The Helpless Handy; or. Backwoods vals of the Road. By Edward L. Wheeler. Chicago, By Charles ‘Morris. Retribution. By Captain Mayne Reid. 196 Shadowed; or. Boo Rockett’s Fight for | 253 Sierra Sem’s Pard; or, The Angel of 138 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Life. By Charles Morris, Big Vista. By Edward L. Wheeler. Base, By Edward L. Wheeler, 197 Little Grit, the Wild Rider; or, Bessie, the | 254 The Half-Blood 3 or, The Panther of the 139 Judge Lynch, Jr.; or, The Boy Vigilante. Stock-Tender’s Daughter. By Col. Ingraham. Plains. By Edward 8. Elis. By T. C. Harbaugh. 198 Arkansaw, the Man with the Knife; or, | 255 Captatm Apollo, the King-Pin of Bowie 140 Blue Blazes; or, The Break o’ Day Boys The Queen of Fate’s Revenge. By Harbaugh. By T. 0. Harbough. of Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. 199 Featherweight, the Boy Champion of the | 256 Young Mentuck? or, The Red Lasso, By 141 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent; or, The Muskingum 3 or, On_ his Moacis, Wits and Captain Mark Wilton. Branded Brows, By Edward L. Wheeler. Honor, By ‘Edward Willett, 257 The Lost btunters 3 or, The Undergrouno _ 142 Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detec- | 200 Th« Boy Bedouins; or, The Brothers of Camp. By Captain J. F. C. Adams, tive. By Charles Morris, the Plumed Lance. By Capt F. Whittaker. 258 Sierra Sam’s Seven; or, The Stolep 143 Sear-Face Saul, the Silent Hunter; or, | 201 The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Dead Bride. By Edward L. Wheeler, 3 The Mystery of Fort Rane. By Oil Coomes, wood Dick’s Ward. Py Ed. L. Wheeler. 259 The Golden Harpoon: or, Lost Among 144 Dainty Lance, the Boy Sport. By Joseph | 202 Prospect Pete, of the Boy Pricade; or, The the Floes. By Roger Starbuck. F E, Badger, Jr. Young Outlaw Hunters. By Ol! Coomes. 260 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ran _ 445 Captain Ferret, the New York Detective; | 203 ©The Boy Pards}; or, Dainty Lance Un- ger. By Oll Coomes. | or, Boss BoL’s Boss Job. By E. L, Wheeler. masks. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 261 Fergus Fearnaught, the New York Boy _ 146 Silver Star, the Boy Knight. By Oll Coomes. | 204 Gold Piume, the Poy Bandit; or, The Kid- By George L, Aiken, : _ 447 Will Wildfire, the Thoroughbred; or, The Glove Sport. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 262 The Young Sleuths; or, Rollicking Winning Hand. By Charles Morris. 205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Mike’s Hot Trail. By Charles Morris, 4 148 Sharp Sam} _or, The Adventures of a Jane’s Last Adventure, By Ed. L. Wheeler. | 263 Deadwood Pick’s Divide; or, The Friendless Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King; or, Caught in Spirit of Swamp Lake. Py Hd. L. Wheeler. 149 A Game of Gold3 or, Deadwood Dick's | His Own Trap. By Charles Morris. 2614 She Wloating Feather; or, Merle Big Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. By Monte’s Treasure Island. By Cvlonel Prentiss 150 Lance and Lasso} or, The Children of T. C. Harbaugh. . Ingraham, e ® the Chaco. By Captain Fred. Whittaker, 208 The Boy Hercules; or, The Prairie | 265 The Tiger ‘Tamer; or.” he League of the 151 Panther Paul, the Prairie Pirate; or, Tramps. By Oll Coomes. Jungle. By Captain Fred. Wh ttaker. Dainty Lance to the Rescue. By Joseph EK | 209 Fritz, the Round-Boy Detective; or, Dot 266 Killb’ar, the Guide; or, Day ; Crockett's Badger. Jr. } Leetle Game Mit Rebecea. By E. L. Wheeler. Crooked Trail. By Ensign C. D. Warren, 15° Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer; or, Win- | 210 Faro Frank of High Pine; or. Dandy | 267 The Buckskin Detective 3 or, Clande hing Against Olds. By Caarles Morris. Darke’s Go-Down Pards. By Wm. R. Eyster. Crecy, King of American Road-Agents, By 163 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon; or, The Out- | 211 Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Celestial City. T. C. Harbaugh. : laws of the Gold Hills. By Ol Coomes, By Joseph E. Badger. Jr. j | 268 Deadwood Dick’s Denth Trail; or, 154 The Sword Hunters; or. The Land of | 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. By From Ocean to Ocean, Ry Ed. L. Wheeler, ; the Elyphant Riders. By Capt. Ff Whittaker Charles Morris. 3 _, | 269 The Gold Ship3 or. Merle. the Con S155 Gold @rigger, the Sport; Gr, The Girl | 213 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloquist | demned. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, . Ap muzer, 6 b ely agin 7 a Scamp-Hunter PB ebony a ag he By A New Issue Every Tursday, SBondwooe ck o hacer or, | 214 Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine . Pe z te fan ee Oey Piclred Party. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 5 Capt. Fred, Whittaker. 4 : ; Pe deg Llp ne oda Dea i opens a al, _ “ke Merry, the Harbor Police Boy. By | 2.5 Captain Crusade? By TC. Barba me Little | receipt of six cents each mo — SS )-"les Morris. Topknot’s Crusade. y T. C. Harbaugh, 7 . eo ee Frank, of Colorado or, The Trap- | 216 Bthon Fill. the Prince of the Reins, By Col, BEADLE AND ADAMS. Pusiisners. iy, Past, By Buffalo Bill. } Prentiss Ingraham, 98 William Street, New Yor* &i + j ie. j Pak = oe ; 5
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‘BEADLE'S | HALE-DIME 270 Blizzard Ben. the Arizona Cyclone; or, | 329 Red-Skin Tom or, The Demon’s Trail. The Riot at Keno Camp. ly Capt. M. Wilton. Nhe Huge Hunter; or, The Steam Man of the Prairies. By Edward §S, Ellis. Minkskin Mike, the Loy Starpshooter. By Oll Coomes. Jumbo Joe, the Boy Patrol; or, The Rival Heirs. By Edward L. Wheeler. Jolly Jim, the Detective Apprentice; or, Harry Keen's Big ** Lay.’’. By Charles Morris. Arizona Jack; or, Giant George’s Tender- foct Pard. By Buckskin Sam. Merle Monte’s Cruise 3 or, The Chase of “The Gold Ship.” By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, By Harry Hazard. ; : 330 Little Quick-Shot, the Scarlet Scout; or, The Dead Face of Daggersville. By Edward L. Wheeler. 331 Black Nick, the Demon Rider; or, The Mountain Queen’s Warning. By Captain F. Whittaker. 332 Frio Fred 3 or, The Tonkaway’s Trust. By Buckskin Sam, 333 Brimstone Bob, and His Lightning Horse Quartette. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. 334 Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner. By Edward L. Wheeler. LIBRARY. Yreka Jim’s Joker; or, Tu Red Nose. By E. L. Wheeler. Captain Cutlass, the Ocean Sp. The Buccaneer’s Gir] Foe. Fy T. GC. Harb. Warpath Will, the loy Phantom; or, Traitor Guide. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham Little Oh-my 5) or, Caught in His 0 Trap. By Philip S. Warne. Bicycle Benj or, The Lion of Lightn Lode. By Edward L. Wheeler. Jaguar Joe, of the Mountain Mail-L a, Maj. E. Lo St. Vrain. f id-Gl«o ve Kit, the Dandy of the Rock By Maj. H. B. Stoddard, Ex-Scout. 277 Denver Doll, the Detective Queen; or, Yankee Eisler’s Big Surround. By Edward L. Wheeler. 278 The Three Trappers; or, The Mountain Monster. By Major L. W. Carson, 279 Old Winch, the Rifle King; or, The Buck- skin Desperadoes. By T. C. rbaugh. 280 Merle “Wonte’s Ware; or, Pearl, The Pi- rate’s Pride. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 281 Denver Doll's Victory 3 or, Skull and 335 Old Double Fist; or, The Strange Guide. | 392 Romeo and the Reds. By Bucks By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. } Sam. : 2 336 Biz Benson, the Brazos Bombshell; or, | 393 Seawaif, the Boy Lieutenant. By Colo : The Queen of the Lasso. By T. C. Harbaugh. Prentiss Ingraham. es 3 337 Ben Bird, the Cave King; or, big Pete's | 394 Yreka Jim of Yuba Dam. By Edwe Scoop. 4 Ww. J. Hamilton. L. Wheeler. 338 A Tough Boy; or, The Dwarf’s Revenge. | 395 California Joe’s War Trail. By Ca By Philip 8S. Warne. F,. Whittaker, t 339 Kangaroo Kit’s Racket; or, The Pride | 396 Rough Rob, of Dynamite; or, The THe of Played-Out. By Edward L. Wheeler. Champions of Blue Blazes. By 7. C. Harbaug Cross-bones. By Edward L. Wheeler. 340 Clip, the Contortionist; or, The Vigilantes of | 397 Bob o? the Bowery 3 or, The Prince 282 The Typo Detective 3 or, Weasel, the Montana. By Edward Willett. Mulberry Street By Jo Pierce, of the Ne Boy Tramp. By Edward Willett. 341 Tony Thorn, the Vagabond Detective; or, York Detective Force. 283 Indian Joe}; or, The White Spirit of the Running Down a Rogue. By Charles Morris. | 398 Kid-Glove Kit and Pard3 or, The Gc Hills. By Major Lewis W. Carson. 342 The Mountain Devil; or, Yellow Jack, the King of Weird Canyon. By Maj. H. B. Stoddar — 284 Whe Sea Marauder; or. Merle Monte’s Outlaw Captain. By Harry Hazard. 399 Black Buckskiny or, The Masked») Be Pledge. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 343 Manhattan mike, the Bowery Blood. of Death Canyon.. By Col. A. F. Holt. fate 285 Denver Doll’s Decow; or, Little Bill’s By Edwari L. Wheeler, 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. 1 Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 344 The Fighting Trio; or, Rattlesnake, the Edward L. Wheeler. © neat ass 286 Josh The Boy 'Tendertoot; or. The Tonkaway. By Buckskia Sam. e 401 Little Shoo-Fly; or, A Race fora Ranc Wild Men of Buzzard Bar. By Capt. M. Wilton. | 345 Pitiless Mat, the White Slayer; or, Red By Philip S. Warre. eee 287 Billy Blue-Eyes, the Boy over of the Thunderbolt’s Secret. By T. C. Harbaugh. 402 Isodor, the Young Conspirator 3 Ce! Rio Grande, By Col. PrentissIngraham, — | 346 Rapier Raphael} or, The Swordsmen of The Fatal League. By Col. P.Ingrahay. = 288 ‘The Scalp King; or, The Human Thun- Zacatecas. By Maj. H. B. Stoddard, Ex-Scout. | 403 Firefly Jack, the River-Rat Detective. EF derbolt. By Captain J. F. C, Adams. : 347 Deadwood Dick’« Dueats; or. Rain Charles Morris. | ; hae 289 seity. Jim?’s Jo >: or. The Young Detec- Days in the Diggings. By Edward L, Wheeler. | 404 Little Lariat, By Buckskin Sam. tive’s Triumph. By Charles Morris, 348 Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the Death- | 405 D:adwood Dick in Dead City. B ; 290 on le Foxfire, the Boy Soy. By Ol t Shadow. By Roger Starbuck. page pet jh in . si Maj. H. 1 eee omes. 349 Wild Wolf, the Waco; or, Big-Foot Wal- | 406 The Ma an-Hunter. By Maj.H.b — 291 ‘Turk, the Boy Ferret. By E. L. Wheeler. , . * (oe oe ay te -p% ; lace to the Front. By Buckskin Sam. Stoddard, Ex-Scout. 292 Sanche Pedro, the Boy Bandit. By Maj. | 350 Red Ralph, the River Rover; or, The | 407 The Boy Insurgent, By, ‘ E. L. St. Vrain. t Brother’s Revenge. By Ned Buntline. 408 Little Leather-Breeche.. 293 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper; or, The | 351 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Warne. aid of the Cliff. By Captain Comstock. Terrible Vendetta. By Edward L. Wheeler, 409 Hercules, the Dumb Dest 294 Dynamite Dan; or, The Bowie Blade of | 352 Tombstone ‘Tom, the Arizona Boy of the Boy Ranger. By Ol] Coom 12 _Gpehctopa. By T. C. Harbaugh. “Sand”. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. . 410 Deadwood Dick’s Diam 295 earless Phil; or, The King of Quartz- | 353 The Reporter-Detective ; or, Fred Fly- ward L, Wheeler. ville. By Edward Willett, er’s Blizzard. By Charles Morris. 411 The Silken Lasso; or, Tke 296 Denver Dolls Drift; _ OF, The Road | 354 Ble Horn Ike, the Hill Tramp; or, The Robin. Bv T. C. Harbaugh. een's Big Campaign. By E. L. Wheeler. Odd Pards. By Roger Starbuck. 412 The Wild VYachtsmany; 297 The Tarantula of Taos; or, Giant | 355 The King of the Woods}; or, Daniel of the War-Cioud. By Col. Pre1 George's ‘Revenge. By Backskin Sam. Boone's Last Trail. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 413 Billy Bombshell, the Cliff 298 ‘The Water-Hotnd; or, The Young | 356 Cool Sam and Pards; or, The Terrible Frank 8. Winthrop. Thoroughbred, By Charles Morris. Six From Texas. By T. C. Harbaugh. 414 Whe Daisy from Denver. 299 A N+, 1, the Dashing Toll-Taker; or, The | 357 The Ranch Raiders 3 or, The Siege of Sam. Schoolmarm o’ Sassafras. By E.i. Wheeler. Tort Purgatory. By Buckskin Sam. 415 The Vagabond Detective : 300 The Sky Demon; or, Rainbolt, the Ran- | 358 First-Class Fred, the Gent from Gopher. Bob’s Boom. By Jo Pierce, of ¢ ger. By Oll Coomes. ; By Edward L. Wheeler. tective Force. 301 Leadville Nick, the Boy Sport By Major. | 359 Durango Dave, the Young Champion | 416 High Hat Harry, the Bas E, L. St. Vrain Wrestler; or, The Colorado Song Queen. By tive. By E, L. Wheeler. 302 'The Mountain Detective ; or, The Bul- Major E. L. St. Vrain. 417 Webtveot Mose, the Tramp De ly of Trigger Bar. By T. C. Harbaugh. 360 Silver-"Lask, the Man of Mystery; or. The Oll Coomes. 303 ?Liza Jane, the Girl Miner; or, The Iron- Cross of the Golden Keys. By J. C. Cowdrick. | 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter. % Nerved Sport. - By Edward L. W heeler. 361 The Phantom’ Light-House; or. baugh. ; : 304 ‘The Dead Shot Dandy; or, Benito, the | “Black Rock,” the Smuggler Spy. By Roger | 419 Kenneth, the Knife King. B Boy Bugler. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Starbuck. 420 The Detective’s Apprentice; 305 Dashaway of Dakota; or, A Western | 362 Deadwood Dick’s Claim: or, The Fairy Withouta Name. By J. C. Cowd: Lad in the Quaker City. By Chas. Morris. Face of Faro Flats. By Edward L. Wheeler. 421 Deadwood Dick in New »-: 306 Neck-Tie Ned, the Lariat-Thrower; or, The | 363 Little ‘Tornado 3 or, The Outcasts of the E. L. Wheeler, Dug-Out Pards. By Maj. Henry B. Stoddard, Glen. By Philip 8S. Warne. 422 Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of | 307 The Strange Pard; or, Little, Ben’s 864 Sna p-Shot, the B »y Ranger: or The Snake stone. By Oll Coomes. Death Hunt. By Buckskin Sam. and the Dove. By Buckskin Sam. 423 The Lost Fingers or, The 308 Keno Kit, the Boy Bugler’s Pard; or, Dead | 365 Baltimore Ben, the Bootblack Detective: Cashier. By Charles Morris. Shot Dandy’s Double. By Col. P. Ingraham. | or. The Fortunes of an Orphan Girl. By An- | 424 Cibuta John, the Prickly Pea1 309 Deadwood Dick’s Biz Deal; or, The | thony P. Morris, Plains. By J. C. Cowdrick. Gold Brick of Oregon. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 366 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detcctive; or, The | 425 ‘Texas Trump, the Border Re* 310 The Barranca Wolf; or. The Beautiful Taos Tiger. By T. C. Be i, C. Harbaugh. Decoy. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 367 Wide-Awake Joo: Boy of the | 426 Sam Slabsides, the Reggar-Bo 311 ‘Whe Roving Sport; or, The Pride of Times. By Charles } Ry E. L. Wheeler. Cbhuckaluck Camp. By Edward Willett. | 368 Yreka Jim, ¢ Gold-( rer 427 The Three Treilers; or, O 312 Hedtop Rube, the Vigilante Prince. By ; Lottery of Life’ Ur 7 ler. the Rampage. By Buckskin Sam. Major E L. St. Vrain. J ‘ 369 Shasta, the Gold Min: ;| 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter De 313 Cimarron Jack, the King Pin of Rifle- | Dead. By J. C. Cow Charles Morris. Shots. By Frederick Dewey. 370 Breaker Ren, Rn , 429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refug 314 The Mysterious Marauder; or, The | Telltale Hand. By EF: Prentiss Ingraham. Boy Bugler's Long Trail. By Col. P. Ingraham. 371 Kingbolt Chris, ; Fay 430 Deadwood Dick's Dust; BaD et, Ce Se eer a cs TUS. Ch. of Detective; ‘or, The ‘Si Chained Hand, By Edward L, Whe the Hauntes Fort. By Jack Farragut. Coach. By Maj. FE. L.§ | 431 Little Ah Sin; or, The Curse 0 316 Old Eclipse, Trump Card of Arizona; or, | 372 Yreka Jim's Prize: Philip 8S. Warne. ee ee ee Wake-Up. By E. L. Wheel 132 Invincible Logan, the Pinke Harbaugh. ’ 373 Little, Jingo; or, The By Charles Morris. 317 Peacock Pete, the Lively Lad from Lead- Philip 8S. Warne. A Cabin Boy’s Luck; or, Ci ville. By Lieut. Alfred Therne. | 374 Gold Dust Tomy; or, A the Gorsair. By Colonel Prentis: ; 318 Ker-Whoop, Ker-Whoo! or, The Tar- Double Match. By George Hen Jim Beak and Pal, Private Soiccuyes © antula of Taos on the War-Path. By Buck- | g75 Chiota, the Creek: or, The * Ry E. L. Wheeler. ; o skin Sam. aRe derbolts. By Buckskin Sam. «ittle § ightfoot, the Pilot of the Woods 319 The Black Rider} or, The Horse-Thieves’ | 376 California Joe's First Tratl. A.» y A. F. Holt. Q League, By Jos. E Badger, Jr. ‘ of the Destroying Angels, By Col. Yhoma ($8 #811 Flash, the New York Fox. By T- 320 The Sea Sorceress; or, Licutenant Ned, Hoyer Monstery. ry ugh. : the Boy Skipper. By Jack Farragut. | 377 Bonodel, the Boy Rover: or, The IVavlesa “2% @he Sea Raider; or, The Hawks of thi 321 Deadwood Dick’s Dozeny_ or, The Schooner. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Ficn By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. Fakir of Phantom Flats. By Ed. L. Wheeler. | 37§ Nabob Ned? or. The Secret of Slab (% 2 gta Re Sal, By E. L. Wheeler. : A 322 Nemo, the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon’s | By Edward L. Wheeler. wcy Sam, the Street Scout. By J. Vendetta. By Edward Willett. 379 Larry, the Leveler: or. The Bloods of t'« trick Ready December22. | 323 Arkansaw Jack, of the Man Hunters; or, Boulevard. By Charles Morris. is rfeot, the Gold Bowie Kir The Scourge of the Mines. By Harry Hazard. | gg0 Avalanche Alf, the Foothills Guide; or, | som. Ready December 324 Ralph Rendy, the Hotel Boy Detective; or, | The Snow-Prisoners of Colorado. By Major 4%! Pirefly; or, A Midd: Tracking the Foxesto Earth. By Chas. Morris. E. L. St. Vrain. Br Col. I t Ingraham. Read: 25 Kelley, Mickey & ('o,, the Sleuths of ) 381 Bandra Bill; or, Frio Frank tothe Front. Every Tues Philadelphia. By Edward L. Wheeler. By Buckskin Sam nf oot eee 326 The Ten Pards; or, The Terror of Take- | gg2 Cool Kit, the King of Kids; or, A Villain’s Tac PalfVime Library Notice. By T. C. Harbaugh. Vengeance. By Edward L. Wheeler. news tent Are cauts cop” 327 Creeping Cat, the Caddo; or, The Red and \eq3 The Indian Pilot: or. The Search for | receip! of #2 Ets : White Pards. By Buckskin Sam. x Mee'es’ Taland. Ry (+l. Prentiss Ingraham, . B28-The ‘4, Deiectives or. A Lu; » cpat | od+ vs Hepetsing oc. the Boy Ranehero; or, : tor Life and Honor. By Major Mickey Free. The Border Schoolmaster. By Oli Coomes. 15 Cottace Street aie lang