Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 1092) (1905)
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AN NNN — = Wass ve Oopyricut, 1884, By BeapLeE & ApAmMs. Apt, es ay Pe AR Mac eaes he ete. aT RA OSES 1a ete JAN., 1905. a a —— © a = a ee ee : = lc a ae. aes ee a _ = a ene awe om mew | : M. J. EVERS & CO., Publishers, he No { 9) Published Every (JAMES SULLIVAN, PROPRIETOR), 10 — easntgh Vo] L XXXVI a : ¥ Month. 379 Pearl Street, New York. $1. a + oar. sa ~ QLD GROSS-EYE, THE MAVERICK-HUNTERs °* 72 22°=72==88 or SATANTA COUNTY, & BTORS. OF THEAS TODAY. BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER, AUTHOR OF “NEMO, KING OF THE TRAMPS,” “RED RUDIGER,” “THE RUSSIAN SPY,” ‘‘THE RED RAJAH,” ‘‘ THE IRISH CAPTAIN,” “THE MAN IN RED,” “‘ DEATU’S HEAD CUIRASSIERS,” ‘‘ PHANTOM KNIGHTS,” ETC., ETC. Mian ee ee ht 7 \ y Ph 0" AD Me Nee ee FRSA oe 4 ole a La , Ss ra yi aS BS OWSey : 4 Op ke 3 : ~ mE bs = ES F "UNCH WAS STOOPING DOWN TO CUT THE WIRES, AND HIS MEN, WERE FOLLOWING HIS EXAMPLE, WHEN THEY HEARD THE DISTANT BUT UNMISTAKABLE PATTER OF HORSE-HOOFS AT FULL GALLOP.-.
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Old Cross-Eye, THE MAVERICK -HUNTER; OR, The Night-Riders of Satanta County. A Story of Texas To-day. BY CAPT. FREDERICK WHITTAKER, AUTHOR OF “ ALLIGATOR IKE,” “THE MAN IN RED,” ‘‘PARSON JIM, KING OF THE COWBOYS,” ETOC., ETC. CHAPTER I. THE ROUND-UP. Trt Texas of the Lone Star Republic; the land where the wild turkey piped her call to her mate; whtre the spotted mustang roamed in droves, has vanisbed for many a year. The red memories of Goliad and the Alamo; the glorious triumph of San Jacinto, have gone to the limbo of ancient history, which the live American never reads, The earliest memory of the Texan of to-day runs back to the time ‘‘before the war, sir,” when his father owned “five hundred likely field-bands;” but it has become unfashionable to refer to that period; the five hundred bein gone beyond the possibility of recovery, an the motto of Texas being—*GO AHEAD.” The trapper and hunter have vanished from her plains: the ranger of old has given place to the cowboy. The long-horned Texas steers, ride and terror of the country in thé days of exican ascendency, are fast being supplanted by Durbam, bulls and red Devons, from the other side of the sea, whose square, sleek forms promise more beef, to the carcass than the old style of animal; but are not capable of a tithe of the wickedness and picturesqueness that resided in the “‘long-horn,” fresh from the pas- tures, when the “spring round-up” came. There are rich and poor in Texas to-day, where, fifty, or even thirty years ago, there were no distinctions; where everybody bad enough, and no one bad too much. The Texas of old, before the war, with all its wild ways and savage customs, was a land of freedom; where the poorest was as welcome as the richest; where millionaires were unknown. The boast of the native then wag that he was a Texan; now there are ‘'eattle-kings” and “‘cow-punchers;” lords and vassals; aud the machinery of privileged classes is rising up, out of sight of people in the East, with & rapidity that bas izeud shaken Texas to the founda- tions of her soc ety and is likely to'do more be- fore the problem Js settled, ' Out in ‘the county of Satanta, where the Indians bed been driven,out so lately that. the boys remembered them; Where the total number of farms in the census was set down at twenty four, ina tefritory that covers many thousand square miles of soil, the inbabitants had not yet come to the grief that attends on thé visit of the land-sharks; and the ranchers carried on their business in the old-fashioned, good-natured happy-go-lucky style, that was the normal state of Texas, not long ago. a Judge Coilisgsworth asked bis neighbors to help him in rounding up for the spring drive, and. they came, from ten and twenty miles round the county, to taste the old gentleman’s ‘‘rye,” and eat of his corn-dodgers and bacon, with the knowledge tbat they were likely toget more than they would, anywhere else, on ac- count of the presence of the judge’s daughters. They all called Collingsworth ‘‘the judge,” though he had never studied a line of law; a as they called Callahan, of the Lame Hog Ranch,” the eolonel.” Mr, Callahan had never seen a day’s service, even in the militia, but he worea mustache and shaved the rest of his face, while he owned a pee of military-spurs; wherefore they called im ‘* colonel,” and the title stuckto him. | The Collingsworth ranch had the distinction of being the only one,.in the county of Satanta, that did not have some nickname attached to it, The fact of the judge baving two pretty daugh- ters had a good deal to do with this; for fhe Texan goes to nicknames as naturally as a duck to water. The neighbors who. had come to help in the round-up had each his name, generally founded on a peculiarity of personal appearance, There was ‘ Limpy ” Balstrop, of the ‘ Buck- er’s Raneb,” who could do more swearing than any man in Texas, but never was known to say worse than a mild Geeroosalem,” when ladies were present. He got his name from a halt in his gait, caused by,a fight with a bucking broncho, which had given the name to bis ranch, itself. : Limpy was at home only on horseback, and hated to show his balt on the ground. The tenant of the next ranch to Balstrop’s was Mr. Thomas Burleson, known to fame as ‘ Punch,” from the manner in which he handled cattle for market; and his place had acquired the unenviable titlo of the ‘‘Screw-worm Old Cross- Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. % v Ranch,” from the prevalence of that interesting. insect there. “ Deaf” Smith, of “‘Dunderhead Ranch,” jus- tified his name in 6very respect; and the last man of the bunch to deservé.a cognomen was Hank Kimble, who went by the name of “the Nailer,” because bis favorite form of amusement was driving nails with rifle or pistol, bullets, whenever he bud a little time to spare and money to buy ammunition. That morning, when they came riding up to the judge’s ranch to help him im the round-up, they were a fine-looking crowd, and bad the true, old-fashioned Texas flavor about them. They were all bealthy, strong fellows, with long hair—from the-searcity of barbers—and they rode hardy, vicious little bronchos, good for sixty miles a day for a week; but carrying more vice to the square inch in their rough hides than twice their number of ordinary American horses. Colonel Callahan was the neatest and most dandified in his dress, for he prided himself on his military appearance, and had an eye on Diana Collingsworth, who was to come out with the men, that day, and see the round-up, with the intention of helping at a pinch, for Diana could ride like any, man, and had the pluck, too, Her sister, Helen, who presided over the house, stood in the dcorway, smiling at the cavaliers as they came up, and by no means too proud to offer them the buge demijohn, that had been filled that morning, and was getting low, after the arrival of the fourth party of riders. Each rancher brought his cowboys along with him, and the whole party of horsemen numbered more than twenty, when they set out at Jast. All around them the prairie lay, covered with its luxuriant growth of grass, rich and heavy beyond anything known in the North, and the little mottes of timber that used to be such a feature of Texas landscapes had not yet been destroyed by the settlers for fuel and fence- rails. Satanta county was still the Texas of old, and game had not yet taken itsdeparture under the desolating advances of the breech-loading shot-gun, The judge rode in the cavalcade, and the young fellows dashed on ahead of the main party,.to explore the country and find where the herds lay. Collingsworth’s Ranch covered some three miles square of land, but the cattle roamed over the prairie for a long distance away from the limits of the grant, and had to be gathered up for the branding, by circling round thenrand driving them into a common center, The purty di¥ided into groups as it advanced, abd the long yells of the cowboys echoed over the plain, as they roused up the cattle from the shelter of the mottes, where they were lying down chewing the cud,.and started them in to- ward the center.of the- ranch, with a view to petting them into control as easily as possible fore they got scared and stampeded. ' The first part of the work was easy enough, for the-circuit was large and the men did not try to. drive the cattle fast. ‘The bard riding would come soon enough, and the existence of a berd of ‘* Mavericks,” which was reported as having strayed into the range, and to be lying down in one of the mottes, made the riders anxious to spare their horses all they could, in the early hours of the day. These Mavericks were said to be all long- horns, of the wildest kind, and ready to fight as soon as they were’ <b ‘‘ Maverick” is a pickname, in Texas, for a wild, unbranded steer which has never known anowner, The name comes from an early set- tler of the Lone Star Republic, who left a lotof cattle on an island till they grew so numerous thgt they had to be taken cff it, when they roved too wild to move, and scattered allover he country. Since that day, wild cattle in ‘Texas and all through the West are called Mavericks.” : Tt had got. to be noon when the cowboys, 1n the advance of Collingsworth’s main party, were seen to stop and eye a motte of timber In a way that showed they saw something they had not expected, and which alarmed them. ‘Instead of going'on as they had done, swing- ing their long whips end yelling to start the cattle, Up from their -lumbers, they had_halt- ed before the motte, which was nearly two miles.across, and “were eying it with suspicion, pene into a group and talking together, ut not approaching the timber. : “Reckon they’ye struck ’em,”-said Limpy, sententiously, and he stooped from his saddle to draw the girth tighter—a feat which a man can pert m in a Texan-saddle, where a rider of the orth would have to dismount. Deaf Smith, who pe ce hear a word, saw the stoppage of the cowboys, and observed to Collingsworth, who wasriding by bim: © | ‘“<Thav’s a heap of ’ef, in thar, jedge. Reck- on we hain’t got men enough to master ’ém.” ‘If they are too wild, we shall have to drive them off the ranch,” answered the judge, “ Old Cross-Eye can have them if he bankers after that kind of thing. I am not anxious, unless: thespromise to be more profit than trouble, an ’s what they seldom are,” fi Deaf Smith watched his companion, and made out enough, from the motion of his lips, to answer: ‘‘'That’s what I told Hank Kimble, when he: axed me to come over and help the round-up. Says I to him, says I: ‘If thar’s any Mavericks: in the lot, my advice is to shoot the darned critters. Isee the new company’s a-settin’ up the posts fur the wire, jedge. Ain’t it a scan- dalous shame?” But the conversation never got any further, for, at that moment, the men in front were seen to turn their horses; and, the next mo- ment, out of the. motte bursts grand herd of pulls, most of them black, with long horns that waved wildly in the air, as they shook their beads and eyed the cavalcade in front of them. There were twoor three hundred of them, and everybody knew that they were only the forerunners of the herd of cows that were be- hind them. They cams: ramping out of the timber, shak-- ing their heads defiantly, as if they threatened any one who should dare to come within charg- ing distance. They were all bellowing at once, in low grumbling tones, that were not as yet furious, but had a streng flavor of anger and warning. “Punch” Burleson came riding back from the advance to say: “Look out, boys. Keep Miss Di out of the. way. The brutes are going to charge.” CHAPTER II. THE MAVERICKS. THE cowboys in the advance began to turn their horses and ride back singly, leaving a few on the watch, as soon as the bulls came out. They knew that, if they all galloped away to- gether, the cattle would take it as a sign of alarm, and come out in full charge. As the last man turned to go back, a bull tossed bis head and pawed the ground in the menacing way that showed he was trying to work himself into a passion, and the action was imitated by several others, while the heads of the cows came peering out of the timber, to see what was the matter. Then “ Punch” Burleson shouted out, as he waved his long quirt: ‘Come, boys. If we're a-goin’ to hey a round up, now’s the time! Sail in!” With that, the men of the party made a line; like the skirmishers of an army,and. slowly advanced in the direction of the phalanx of bulls,, eracking their long whips like pistol-shots, and! ers chorus the long cry: «WHA YO—W HOOP!!” The bulls that had been pawing the ground 4 moment before, preparing to ch , hesitated as soon as they saw the resolute attitude of the men, and the bindinost retreated to the shelter of the timber, while the foremost began to look from right to left, with every sign that they, suspected a trick in the advance, : he object of the cowboys was to drive thenr through the timber, where they would be met by the other party, which had gone round tha. other side of the ranch. It was hoped that the sight of other cattle;. in quiet subjection, might induce the Mavericks to go into the corral, where there would be some chance of controlling them. Out in the open, it was impossible; and the problem was to keep them from stampede, long enough to get them behind the bars, The line gf horsemen went forward steadily, not endeavoring to drive the cattle, so much as to keep them from breaking into a charge; and they might bave succeeded in their design, when there was asudden motion in the herd, that sbowed sometbing was disturbing the ani- mals,as a man in a flaming red blanket, v:hich waved from his shoulders Jike scarlet wings appeared in front of the cattle, as if he ha a ridden round, from the other side of the motte, The sight of the hated color set them at once into a fitof fury that knew no Kounds, There was a loud explosion of bellowifg; the bulls began to tear mp the sods again, and throw the dust in the air, and, before the cowboys could stop them, the whole herd, followed by the cows, dashed out of the motte, full charge, and made straight for the man-in the red: blanket, who turned his horse and fled from be- fore them, taking the direction of the party of cawboys, and yelling as he came. The holdest,among the ranchers pared slight- ly as tlfe 1ush any for yey all knew that it would be impossible to stop it, and difficult to get out of the way. - : Collingsworth shouted to his. daughter, who was riding in the rear of the party: ‘Run, Di, run! Make for the rock of tho mesquites.” He himaelf spurred bis_borse; turned tail as. hastily as any there; and down came the rush of the berd, breaking through: the thin line of cowboys as if they bad been dummies, and scat- tering them like chaff. lt was no use trying to stem that charge; fur- - a, pene ee ee a eee) oS eS Ate Jere Sa ) if a ee ee OP ee en —— Sa ee sh Ee ee ee ee
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pif their cattle bad been of t 4 Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. which had the effect of stopping the advance of the herd in a moment, Tae bulls had never -héard such a sound be- fore, and it frightened them. : Toey stopped and huddled together in a dense mass, staring at the figure in red before them, and gave symptoms of a stampede in a new di- rection, The wary huvter put up the bugle as soon as he saw that they were frightened, and rode round the flanks. of the herd, watched Closely all ths time by the bulls, who got to the outside and kep: between the cows and danger, as they* thought, They didnot attempt to go any further, but | stood there watching the hunter. Kuowivg as be dii theic habits, he was en- abled to get behind them, and when he drew forth the bugle onee more the effect was in- stantaneous, : The first blast set them to huddligg together, trembling and snorting, and the second sent them off in a wild stampede, that would have defied the efforts of an army to stop them, All their fatigue was forgotten in the moment be blew that blast—to the wild’ cattle terrible as the last trump. They ie come ona dead run, as if they had been just freshly aroused, past the motte, in which they bad been about to take refuge, at a _ pace of ten miles and more an hour, while the prairie sp2d away behind them; and no one, pur- suer or pursued, took any. notice of the distanee, Tue bunter followed at a moremoderate pace, not attempting to keep near the cattle, but satis- fied witti being in sight all the time. 2 The miles turned ato leagues, the sun climbed up into the heavensand declined again, and s'ill the stampede went on, with the same frantic Pg on the ‘part of the wild cattle, till nearly fty miles bad heen passed over, within six hours, when Old Cross-Eye muttered to himself, as he rode: “They can’t keep this up much longer. I won- der where Tom’s gone to?” The herd was running asrapidly asever, when a dark spot appeared, and was revealed as the body of a cow, tha}, h:d dropped in the mad race, and lay there, dying, with ber tongue out, and ‘the look in ber eyes that told of complete exhaustion. The bunter no longer pressed the crowd, He knew that bis work was nearly done. He slackened his own pace toa walk. The herd did the same gradually, till it was pressing on slowly, the foremost trotting, at intervals, to escape the pressure, the rest straggling io the rear, and stringing out, further and further. Old Cross. Eye tried another blast on the bugle, but it bad little or no effect. Toe cattle were too tired to stampede any more. . Another cow dropped down in the rear of the tents and the hunter was obliged to allow them ‘0. stop. , Then at last, when the expression of his face showed he was getting anxious; for the cattle, if allowed to feed and rest, wauld be as unman- ageable as ever, he saw a horseman coming over the green prairie in front, on the otber side of the berd, and cried aloud in bis joy: *‘Good boy, Tom! We’ll get them yet.” He drew out the bugle, and blew a succassion ‘of loud blasts, under the effect of which the cattle liftei their heads from the grass which they were beginning to crop. and started to run again, not so rapidly as before, but with suffi- cient vigor to show that they bad not lost all their strength yet, _ _. The strange horseman came on toward the herd; then veered off to one side, and came rac- ing round the flank, at a pees that sliowed he was well mounted, exbibiting the face and figure of a tall, handsome young fellow, with keen blue eyes the picturesque dress of a prairie man of the old sebool, in all its bravery of buckskin trimmings and fringes, He was mounted on a fine pony, of the same spotted variety as that of Old Cross-Eye, and rode in a similar hgme-made sadile of the Co- manche pattern. # As he came up to the Maverick-Hunter, Old _ Cross-Eye said briefly: .** Drive’em into the corral. Had a long chase. Took’em from under the nose of old Collings- worth, and they were all as mad as blazes. Having a round up.” : The young man nodded, as if he understood the order, and the two set out to drive the herd, in the same style that bes would have adopted Hed ‘the scrapers tame or y | this an bo ore, it wou have Moched tat ¥ charge, af the whole: berd getting loose, As it was, the poor crea’ chase, they could not . enough energy to to. ven se) the terrible | the law on thei CER -: Tae two men behind kept them on the run, | till they had brought them to a place where the line of the fence ended, and an opening ap- peared, as if it had been left cn purpose. Through this they rushed, bellowing; and as soon as they were inside, the two men jumped off their ponies and bégan.te pick up from the ground the rails that had been lying there all | the time, hidden in the grass. They had to work hard, for they had no help; buf, at the end of an hour of arduous exertion, they had the opening closed, the herd was in- side the corral, thotigh the cattle did not know it, and old Cross-Kye said to his partner: “Tom, my boy, that was a good job, well done,” CHAPTER IV. IN THE CORRAL. THE spot which Old Cross-Eye had selecte for his corral, showed he had an eye fo saving labor, when he started in his undertaking, It was bordered on one side by a dense motte of chaparral timber,the edges of which had been made, with very little trouble into a fence, impervious to the heaviest rush; another side was formed by a deep barranca, which saved the trouble of a ditch, and only required to be stopped in one placa to make escape impossible on that side; the third was closed with rails and cross sticks, of the saw-buck pattern of fence; and the Jast was the entrance which had cost the most trouble of all, on account of the neces- sity of closing it at intervals and opening it again. Altogether, the inclosure involved a space of four or five miles in length, by as many in breadth; but the fencing had not been carried for more than two miles in any one place, on account of the help given by nature in the operation, It was so large that the herd of wild Mave- rieks did not comprehend they were shut in, when the chase was abandoned; but went to work, eating the rich grass inside the inclosure, or hunted round for water, as if-they thought the bitterness of the day was past. Old Cross-Eye and his young partner sur- veyed the herd as soon as the entrance had been made quite secure, and the younger man said to the elder: - t ‘‘That’s a fine lot, Jake. There’s blood in them, Where do you suppose they have come from?” Old Cross-Eye shook his head. “Dunno, S’pose some of those big English companies they talk of as coming here. They never have good management; and if their cat- tle get out, they’re the worst of all. They may talk as much as they want about the gJd long- horns; but they can't hold a candle to these imported fellows, when they get real wild, There’s the weight in them, and they’ll fight. By the by, Tom, the new company has begun to set up its posts, and they’ve got the bull water front of balf the ranches in the county.” He spoke with an accent that showed he was vot a Southerner born and bred, though bis ‘grammar was loose and his words those of an uneducated man. His companion, on the other hand, used good language, and there was tbat about his whole appearfnce that suggested a man who bad come to Texas for some reason other than the poverty which drives so many to new lands, : When Old Cross Eye spoke of the ‘“‘new company,” in almost the same terms that Deaf Smith had used in conversation with Judge Collingsworth, th sce of the young man dark- ened, and he said: * Jake, I tell you there’s going to be trouble of the wofst kind. I have not much to thank the men of this county for, They have not been very kind to you or me; but if the worst comes, and they want a helping hand, they may find that the Maverick-Hunters may prove able to do good service. Who told you of it? Where did you hear it?” ‘“‘Heerd it last night at the shanty in Smitb- ville,” replied Jake. ‘‘1 bad to. yo there, ye know, to make things pleasant. These men can get up trouble for us, any time they’ve a mind to, if ye don’t spend a little money with them; and it’s always best to try the molasses for the flies, afore ye use vinegar. I took a bed there, and put the pony up, a-purpose to keep friends, and heerd the talk about it. It seems that the notbin’ to stop ; for the crit a darn ~ -. ; be AES ia ok . "ts A ‘ =p Seeger ae if the Indians take a share of the beef when they | feel like it, at least they don’t take away the ' water from us and drive us into the poor-house, with a lawyer to help ’em.” | ( Indians!” said Tom with asbrug. ‘I don’t see, for my part, why these Texans make such, | a fuss about them. We never had any trouble with them. They’re men, the same ss we are, and they can fight, too; but if you treat them right, they’ll do the same by you. I’m sick of the talk about Indians. ‘The men who talk the loudest are always the greatest twieves,” Old Cross-Eye shrugged his shoulders as ‘he replied: ““Ay, ay; that’s all very well, boy; but it won’t do to trust ’em too fur. Injuns is very sweet when everybady’s good to ’em; but they have a queer way, if one man does ’em a wrong and they can’t ketch bim, of takin’ the fust they find an’ getti.;’ the spite out of him. -Don’t trust ’em too much.” Tom Field bad not beensin Texas long enough to cutlive all the remanée of his nature, and he | had come West, like many others, with a ver | high'idea of the character of the Indians, which | had not as yet yielded to the sight of the lazy vagabonds of the posts, that give the everage Western man bis batred of the ‘*red devils.” | He seemed rather nettled, as he retorted: | “Dm willipk to trust them, and tbat’s the | reason they have never injured me. ‘I tell you, Jake, your-notions about Indians are too much | of the same stripe as those of: the semi-savages that call themselves citizens of this country. If | it came to a question of which should go tothe | | wall, they or the Indians, I'll be banged if I wouldn’t be inclined to think the Indian better worth saving than the average frontiersman.” Old Cross-Eye smiled, as be said, soothingly: “There, there, don’t git mad about it. May “ye’re right; but, at the same time, J wouldn’t go to the next town and tell ’em so.” **No,” said the young man, rather bitterly. “They would pitch on m4, I suppose you mean, ten or a dozen at once, I don’t want to be made a target of before my time; but I can keep up my thinking I suppose, and we can say what we like, out here.’ ’ Then, as if wanting a pretext to turn the talk from an an subject; he added: “Did you see the judge, by the by?” ‘* Yes, and his darter, too.” ‘Which of them?” The question was asked carelessly, but the old hunter squinted at bis friend in a humorous way, as be said: ! ‘““Which on ’em d’ye want to hear about; boy?’ The color rushed into the face of the ng man, ina way that there was no necessity for, as he answered: i “Which of them? What do you mean? I baven’t any special interest in either of them, have I?” “ That’s fury you nnd 9h was-the dry reply. “T seen one of ’em—the one they call Di— and she were very nearly gittin’ into the rush, | I passed her, not * ttin’ one. when { led the -cattle out. more’n ten feet away, and she were a- the whip to that borse of hern like a g T’ather one warn’t out.” He was watching the face of. the young man as he spoke, and saw that Field turned pale as he heard the news of the girl’s peril. ‘«But she was not hurt, wasshe?’ he asked, Old Cross-Bye grinned, as he said: ** Reckon she war’n’t; though there’s no sayin’. Twarn’t in thesperrits to waste much time lookin’ behind me when them angry devils was arter me like a bull cyclone a-comin’. Jf you’d ba’ been there, it might ha’ been different: but then you mightn’t ba’ got the cattle inter the correl,as I did, Come, boy, I’m as tired and sore as a man kin be, who’s rid sixty or seventy miles, as hard as the pony kin leg it. I want some grub. What ha’ ye got in the shanty?” Tom Field, recalled to himself by the question, replied, as be mounted his pony: **Come and see, Thank haven’t driven away the game yet.” cf Old Cross-Eye ens at own pony, which had come so far and fast that day, and be remarked, in a tone of regret, as he mounted the animal: ‘the land-sharks “* Poor pony! It’s a. shame not/to let ye rest “EE but it ain’t fur to the bouse, and we'll make it up to ye with a extra feed, when we git thar,” Then the two horsemen rode slowly down the line of the corral fence, and. came at last to the edge of the motte, which formed the outside uf the inclosure; in the midst of which a small ning a red, like a lane, cut through the thickete—for the trees were intertwined with vines and pare i creepers, in a way that Texas’ can show as well as any part of the world, It was by a judicious use of these thorns creepers, that the edge of the motte, next to the corral, had been made impervious to the attacks of the cattle; the thinner portions of the thicket being woven together, around the trunks of the trees so as to make a wall. — The lane that led into the thicket from the other side of the sects was bordered in the . AR wes
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In “ o wood, and, after several windings, ended in a little opening, tbat contained a small house, built in the frail and hasty style that is com- mon in the Mexican parts of Texas under the name of ‘‘ jacals,”* bu’ not common in the wesi- tern and thrifty portions of the State, Never- theless, it was in a jacal that Old Cross Eye and his friend lived, ar: it answered all their pur- pores as well as any mure pretentious building. t was built of thin saplings, woven together into:a sort of basket work, and was cool in the intense heats of that part of the State, where the hot wind, from the immense plains of the Llano Estacado, makes the weather very sul- tay ae tae summer months, here was very little clearing around the jacal, and a narrow path led from its front into the corral, a gate at the end showing that the exit and entrance was used at discretion. Down this path the bunters led their horses, | and turned them into the corral, where the ani- mals fell to cropping tbe grass with an avidity that showed the racing bad not hurt either of them, Into the hut, then, the two men went, and | Old Cross-Eye smiled, as he saw that a fire had been lighted in the center, and the haunch of a fawn of the black-tailed deer, that had been shot the day before, had been cub, into slices and bung by the fire, ready to roast or broil. “‘T got ready, assoon as I heard the born,” explained Tom, “I knew you would be bun- gry, and I cut up the venison so as to save trouble. It’s just rigbt in flavor.” ~ Old Cross-Eye nodded and went to the fire at once, where he began to toast bis slices of veni- son, with a face that showed bow he appreci- ated the attention of the others to his comforts, They both said very little till the repast was finished, when the old man observed, as he wiped his mouth on bis sleeve: “I tell ye what, Tom; it isn’t everybody hag as good vittles as we, after all. It ain’t a rich place to be sure; but, if we kin get the herd we took to-day, branded, and balf-way tame, we mee have a little spare cash yet.” Tom looked out of the door; for the jacal had no window, and the smoke of the fire went through a hole in the roof. His face had a sad look on it, as he said: ‘* Yes, there’s money init. I see all that; but what a set of savages the men are, and when one does meet a girl, who has a mind and a soul, she is sure to be too far above you in wealth to look at you, or, if she. does look at you, then the people of the border call you an interloper, and try to pick quarrels with you, about nothing.” Old Cross-Eye nodded, as if he palleratgod what the otber was driving at. “*T know all that, boy; but you furgit that the rule in Texas is for every man to take keer of bis own door-yard.. If any of ’em pitches on ye, why don’t ye fight ’em back?” _ , ‘Tom sighed, He bad the dreamy face, with delicate lines, tbat proclaims a man of five tastes and poetical likings. There wasa certain artistic quality in his dress, that aided in giving one this impression, ‘besides the presence, in the hut, of several drawings and water-color sketches of the scenery of Texas, all the work of his hands, ‘ ‘‘T hate to be brawling, all the time,” he said, ae ross Eye remarked: ¢ e got to do it, in Texas.” CHAPTER V. THE VISIT OF THE INDIANS. THE home of the Maverick-Hunters—for Tom Field and Jake Mitchell were in partuership in the little hut by the bead-waters of Biue Fork —was right = at the edge of the Indian terri- tory, a very aifferent place now to what it was — the Eastern Indians were first moved ere, . / There are several nations of the red-men who have acquired considerable civilization and wealth, and the raising of cattle is an indusiry, with the Cherokees and others, just as much as with their white neighbors, When Old Cross-Eye and bis partner went out after dinner to look at their herds and con- “sult about getting them branded, they found that the cattle in the huge corral looked excit- ed, and were running from side toside in a way that showed the presence of something to dis- turb them, in spite of their fatigue after the long race they bad already had. As soon as Old Cross-Eye had set eyes on them, he said, decidedly: “Injuos, Tom. They’ve been at the cattle, as sure as fate. I told ye it wouldn’t do to trust ‘em too much, boy. As long as we was poor, ey didn’t wanter disturb us, but they seen we had a good baul, and they’re comin’ to take some of it.” Tom. Field cast his eyes over the corral. There was no one in sight, but the tired cattle were ponaine to and fro, in a manner indicative of suppressed excitement, which was only pre- vented from becoming a regular stampede by their exhaustion and the fact that they had no place togetout, Sra nip ee. Ayu was evidently on the op- posite side of the corral, where the barranca Te mae Prot aks cs: w 3.” y Nr \ _ extended, and the little herd of ponies that the Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. hunters owned was coming toward the but, as: ae ask for_protection from an enemy of some ind “It’s Injuns, as sure as fate,” asseverated-Olg Cross-Eye, as he noted their actions. “‘ Never knowed it to fail, when the beasts acts that way. Seems like they knowed that they be- longed to white folks, and that Injuns weren’t nateral to ’em.” Tom Field made an impatient motion of his head, as he retorted: ’ “You're always talking about the Indians, like the rest of the Texans, and neither of you know any more avoutthem than you do about the moon. If there are any Inciaus in the bar- ranca, I’m going to find who they are, and what they want.” He whistled for his pony, which he had train- ed to come at the call, expecting salt, and the pretty little animal trotted up to him and rau its mose under the arm of its master, in a way that showed the. affectionate ties that existed between the two. “Stay here, and I'll ride over and investi- gate,” was the brief salutation of :the young man to hig elder, and be threw himself, bare- back, on the pony, and cantered off to the place where the cattle were stamping and snorting in terror, at the edge of the deep chasm, called a barranca, which formed one of the boundaries of this natural corral, As he advaneed, the cattle rushed out of his- path as if they had not yet got used to bim, and the young man arrived at the edge of the chasm and looked down, to see, as Old Cross- Eye had predicted, several Indians at tbe bot- tom of the gully, trying to climb up tbe sides. When they saw him they began to laugh and make all sorts of signals of amity to him, to which be responded by waving his hand and calling back to them, in the language of the Kiowas, to which they belonged: ‘‘Come round the other way. This is not the way that we réceive our guests. The house is open at all times to the friends who, love us.” The three Indians who had been down in the gully looked as if they were ashamed to be caught where they were; but, they made the best of it, and called back; ‘*We were afraid that if we went the other way you would not be at home, We want meat, and it is far to our lodges.” * Come up this way then, and take what you want,” the young man called out in his mot kindly tones, ‘The house is always open to my red brothers,” He waited at the edge of the barranea til! they got up to him, and helped the !ast man up by the hand, amid smiles and ‘‘ Hows,” of the most polite description, This young man bad come to the West and taken up bis abode at the edge of the Indian Territory on purpose to study the Indians, for whom he hat conceived a most romantic admiration, and had devoted himself, ever since bis arrival, to the language of men who were looked on, at the West, as lit- tle better than wild beasts. Had he done this at any place where the Tex- an cowboys and ranchers could have seen him, he would probably have incurred their bitter hate and contempt, under the title of “‘squaw man,” though be had never taken to himself any ln- dian wife whatever. As it was, bis isolation, at the edge of the State, saved him from this, and the only per- son who knew of his tastes was Oid Cross- Eye. The elder, being * ordinary prejudiced frontiersman of but little education, thought that his yonng friend was crazy on the subject of the red-men, and cherished a sort of uneasi- ness, all the time, lest the Indians should take to doing some piece of what be would call “ devil- try,” and break out into a carnival of murder and rapine. Old Cross-Eye had come from Minnesota, where he remembered the great massacre which had occurred uring the civil war; and he had the idea, common to the West since that day, that all Indians were bad, and that exter- mination would be the best thing for the world, in their case. Tom, who had the faith and enthusiasm of the young student of Catlin -and the early writers, thougbt, on the contrary, that the pre- dations of bis friend were not founded on know- edge, and that it was impossible for men, who started with the convicticn that all Indians were bad, to attain any knowledge of them. Now, as he rode slowly toward the house, across the ¢orral, the three men who followed him attracted a great deal of attention from the cattle, for a man on horseback is the regular herdsman in Texas, and when they see one on foot, it is, to’ them, a signal that an enemy is approaching, They began to stamp their feet and run after the three men on foot, and Tom had to ride to the front of the friends he bad brought in, and protect them from the as- saults of the ee. cattle he had driven in, ex- bausted, a sbort hour before, The Indians took the matter very coolly, for they were accustomed to cattle, and kept near the horse till they bad arrived. within rushing oe eid 4 Sn ns ne EEE In nn NEn ERIE SETES ESSER a a distance of the but, when they made ‘a break for the narrow lane, which they evidently knew by heart,jand succeeded in getting in without being gored, though the angry cattle came ramping after them, to within a foot of the gate, when they appeared to be frightened at something and went back to-tbheir grass ‘ ae 3 ir se
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ee _ have this B — ah } 7 ei Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. 3 —— the bulls were determined to have «@ clear space, aud they had it. : The ranchers were scattered like hares before wolves, and made for either side of the rush, Atheir horses snorting with terror, and straining every nerve to flee. The man in the red blanket alone kept the straight track in front of the herd, and dashed away from the motte, in the direction in which the cowboys had been most anxious that the cattle should nat go, when they started to head them off. For a short time it was not possible for any one to tell what was going on, for the dust, noise and confusion; but when the herd had passed on, and the.Collingsworth people were outside the rush, their disappointment found vent in curses, loud and deep, at the man in the red blanket, who had decoyed away the herd by such a simple stratagem, “‘Tt?s Old Cross-Eye, the darned old skunk!” said Limpy revengefully. ‘‘He’s death on Mavericks, and he must have been a-watchin’ them, when we struck ’em fust. He’s got ’em, sure enough; and I wish him. joy of’em. I’m darned if J want any more in mine.” The judge was the first to recover his equani- mity; for he made light of the accident, say- ing: ** Well, gentlemen, they say that stolen goods never do anybody any good, and those Maver- icks are an instance. We're well rid of them. Come on and finish the drive. They might have stampeded the rest of the stock.” ; So they gathered together their discomfited squadron, and went on, atthe business of the day. The form of the man in red had vanished in the cloud of dust made by the frantic cattle, and ar could not tell what had become of him, or whether he bad managed to keep ahead. =. ‘*Tf he don’t,” observed ‘‘ Punch”. Burleson, “1d not give much fur his karkidge, when the ialle kete him. They’ll trample the life out of m. And, to judge from the faces and words of the party, they seemed to think such a consumma- tion desirable; for, if there was one thing that they hated, it was a successful Maverick-Hunter, who got his herds without paying anything for them in cash. To be sure, they were none -of them above taking a Maverick when they found it straying around loose, and-had been trying, that very day, to circumvent.a herd: that must have numbered several thousand head, But, to be tricked out of them by one man, and left out in the cold, was a bitter pill to swallow; and it is probable that, if Old Cross- Eye had been in the midst of the party at that moment, he might have got into s, quarrel with more than one of the men whom he had scatter- ed ore. The horsemen proceeded on their way slowly, and by the time the sun was about an bour above the western horizon, they had gathered the cattle, ofall grades, together, near the huge branding corral, and were beginning the serious work of the day. gee. The corral was built with a wide, funnel- shaped entrance, into which the cattle were driven, with as little excitement as possible, oe eet had wa eecee we epee = wedge-sha passage that led to the corral, where they were to be kept till the branding fr wastenpepeite to get them in before it grew dark; for the perils of a stampede are always at their greatest in the night. The cattle had been there before, most of them, and knew what was coming, so they be- - gan to get agitated agi : The cows, that had been running all the win- ter with their calves by their sides, were espe- cially excited; for they knew that it was the little ones to whom the hot branding-iron was ’ to be applied, and they ran from side to side, bellowing and trying to get out of the sloping inclosure that was tide, gr line of velling men with their terrible whips cracking. At last the leading bull of the herd made a dash for the line, trying to break through; ° and was met by a storm of blows, from which he fled in dismay, with a piece of flesh cut out of bis muzzle, from which the blood flowed in a stream that would have sickened a North- erner. . 7 His turn was the signal for the rest of the herd to break and flee for the corral, in fear of the deadly ee and half an. hour before the sun set the whole herd was in the corral, tearing from side to side, dashing against the tough rail- fence in a way that showed the wisdom dis- played when it was built, with trunks of trees, a foot in diameter, for the rails, and posts set in the ground as much as six or seven feet deep to make the place cattle-proof. : There was the snorting, bellowing crowd of animals, dashing from side to side like wild ee yet Punch observed, as he wiped ‘his brow: : ¢ ‘Hem! darned if they ain’t gittin’ too tame fur anything, nowadays. It’s all very well to , ish stock; but they don’t fight like the old ’uns—not fur stamps, they don’t. Why, I’ve knowed darned often the time when it took two days to git the herd inter the corral, let | tionally unpr from the that , _ plone the brandin’, and here we are, all ready to ‘ squinted with both eyes; under e least excite- | alry soldiers, and blew a long blast thereon, "i heat the irons. Let’s git at it, boys, afore the moon rises. We'll have light fur a good hour yet.” 2 “The advice was taken, for the cowboys of the home ranch were already at work lighting the fire for the branding-irons. Within a half-hour the red light of the blaze was illuminating the bars of the corral and the savage faces of the bulls behind them, as they dashed to and fro, trying to finda way out, Then the branding gate was opened, and the struggling cattle forced toward it by men who sent their long gads into the flanks of those on the other side so as to start arush to the narrow gate, with its alleyway just wide enough to admit one beast atatime. The fire was outside of this, and as the animals came out, one at a time, it was the business of the branders to thrust the iron into the flank of the calf or steer that had not al- ready had the mystic letters of the Collings- worth mark imprinted on its tough hide. The job was a long one, and required good light, therefore the fires were kept up at high blaze till the rising of «he moon—two days past the full—gave them aJl they needed, One by one, the abimals were forced out by the alleyway and thé operation of applying the iron was followed by an angry bellow, after which the indignant steer rushed out to the prai- rie and made the best of its way to the feeding- ground from which it bad been driven that morning. Of the ten or twelve thousand head, which Collingsworth owned; as far as he’ knew, about one fifth part required branding; for he had not | executed the duty in the previous fall, and the : calves had increased on his hands at a great rate, : And the job had to be done that night; while the neighbors, who had come to help, had to be sent off to the house, to be fed by details, Miss Diana Collingsworth was the guide for the first detail; and, to see the way in which the young men of the party crowded around her, as they went off, one would have thought | that the fate of a lady in Texas must be a very ' pleasant one, as far as the number of cavaliers ' was concerned, y Q | By midnight, the branding was completed, and the last of the riders was wending his way homeward with bis host to the hospitable | shades of the log-house, where Collingsworth ' dispensed bis corn-dodgers and “ Old Rye” to the hungry and thirsty. ins The two Collingsworth girls were used to the stir and bustle of round-up time, and did the honors of the house with an ease that was at variance with their real sentiments; for they ‘had beén Brae t up, before the war, at the | city of Savannah, from whence the judge had emigrated, when the fate of the great Confed- | eracy was settled against the wishes of the , party to which he belonged. hey felt out of place in the wilds of the cat- tle ranges, aud longed for a society more pol- ished and civilized than the rude drovers and cowboys that composed the principal popula- tion of Satanta county; but, as it was no use pining, they had come to the conclusion to make the best of it, and had been recently com- forted by the arrival of the first piano that had ever been seen in that part of Texas, on which they were wont to discourse, in.a way: that ‘oused the envy of the marriageble men in the district, which included-all who had not over i ig miles to ride, to get to dinner with the judge. CHAPTER cS On THE MAVERICK-HUNTERS, THat afternoon, while the Collingsworth party was rounding-up the stock of the judge’s yanch, the. man in the red blanket was fleeing from before the face of the herd of wild cattle, with a speed that showed he knew the danger of stopping. . When the Maverick-Hunter saw. that they were inclined to"Bive up the chase he slackened his pace, and the bulls made another run after him, as he waved the red blanket before them, witb a taunting yell. ; slackened down again, and he found himself alone on the oie prairie, near a motte of tim- ber, for which the herd was mak it instinct of the wild creature when it is tired to seek cover. The bulls had slackened their pace to a wae and refused to be coaxed tanto acieter sh. - cece Then Old ee ae out from under the e, of the kind used by cav- Ayes aoe ie ie St “ A . Rees pull at the ~ > This rush lasted for another mile; then they — g with the © wt *) Py ea
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6 near a post or agency, and a Texan would have told you that they were lazy vagabonds, who - would do nothing bat drink and gable, when they were not thieving and robbing. Old Cross-Eye was of the Texan opinion, and hated them for coming; but the young man was 1 of the impression that Indians were men'the same as the rest of us, and had resolved to treat them well till they gave bim reason to alter his opinion. He followed them to the end of the motte and saw there a whole party of mounted Indians, from the territory, waiting for their friends. When Wild Cat.saw them, he turned to Tom, # saying: ‘“*My brother sees. It is well that he was , kind. We could have taken what we wanted.” CHAPTER VI. THE CATTLE COMPANY. * CoLONEL ” CALLAHAN, iu return for his ser- vices at the Collingsworth Ranch, had asked the judge to come to his own round-up, at the Lame Ber Ranch, the time for which was set three days after tbe first branding of the season. i. Lame Hog Ranch had received its name from ¥ the ownership by Callahan when he first came to Texas, of a very large pig, which had been lamed by an accident. The pig had been con- verted into pork long before, but the name had stuck to the ranch, and the colonel let it take its course. . : Colonel Callahan bad made a great many in- vitations, and had determined “to do the thing up properly,” as he said; for be wasa man who ad, what some of the neighbors had not—a , farm of about thirty acres, on which he reised wheat and vegetables enough for the house, and did not depend, as ae of the ranchers did, on Be **hog and hominy,” all the year round. The colonel’s friends bad gathered at the front of his log-house—for everybody in Texas lives in log houses on the ranches when they bave nothing better, and there are not tees 5 4 who have, in the newer parts of the State suc a as Satanta eounty. a The Lame Hog Ranch was one of the finest properties in the county, and the colonel was not above saying at all times and places, that *‘the only thing the Lame Hog wanted was a ; : lady to drive him,” by which hi meant to inti- 3 mate ina delicate way tbat the owner of the Fe ranch was in the matrimonial market. * { ; He bad not yet mustered the courage to say = the decisive words to either of the judge’s oe daughters, though the judge was apt to give ees broad bints that ‘‘daughters were hard to get , rid of, nowadays, and any man was the better a ~ for a wife, if he was a rancher or a farmer. % But the judge did not bring bis daughters bee with him, when he went to a neigbbor’s round- up. though he allowed them to attend his own. @ party at the Lame Hog was exclusively for bachelors, and the whisky circuiated freely, while the profanity was the more unadulterated, for that very cause. ‘ The colonel had a fair-sized herd, as herds go n = beef, about.a hundred thousand dollars, at any a aor had he wanted to realize the cash there- ‘or. Like most of the ranchers of that county, he a had a range, nominally of a square Jeague, but * his cattle roamed over the wide prairie, that stretched, for many miles, round the claims of himself and bis fellow ranchers, The drive had p:oceeded some time, when the appearance of ‘strangers in the neighborhood == caused a stam , and the animals ran wildly i througb a break in the lines, which caused a : greet deal of profanity before they could be got we ck in order. Seee The strangers turned out to be a party of sur- == veyors, with their instruments, the glittering tubes of which had caused the fright, and they 4 _ were accompanied by a number of men ‘on Aan . horseback, who flaunted flags, and acted as if Secs »© they did not care what they did, fn the way of mage. ee) _» They staid on the ground asif the¥ belonged eee "there, and when the “colonel” requested them a ‘to take their flags away, till the round-up was : ‘over, the leader of the party, who was “E08. nized as a well-known desperado, called Jac Tomlinson, replied in a swaggering way: **See bere, Callahan, we belong here, and you don’t. That’s about the sizeof it. Ifyou ag ee \ want et your old round-up finished, go aie vi. ahead. We come from the Glasgow Cattle Com- pany, and this land you’re on isourn not yourn atall. We’rea-settin’ up the boundaries, and don’t you furgit it,” My The cowboys of the rancheros had gathered together at the sight of the strangers, and had n to look to their pistols, with the readiness Rae of their class, under all circumstances of diffi- \ age culty, to shoot, as the easiest solution of the Sei Aas le; but they saw that Tomlinson’s party ‘ was as strong as their own, if not stronger, and that it contained several men known as ‘*des- ca es ”—that is to say, men who shoot quick, sat and meso give any one the chance to get the “abet fone on them, “4 hen they noticed that these. men kept their nds on Sait pistows, 6: the first symptoms of r the rancher cowboys concluded Texas, some ten thousand head, worth, as’ Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. that it might be as well to let the chiefs do the talking before they opened hostilities. Judge Collingsworth was the first to speak to the strange leader in a tone of expostulation: ‘‘Look bere, Mr. Tomlinson, | don’t under- stand what you mean. This land is the prop- erty of the State, and has been used as the com- mon property of its citizens, ever since I bave been in the Stee 7 Tomlinson smiled, in the politely exasperating way that he affected, when he particularly de- sired to put the onus of the quarrel on the other man, “Tam very glad to bear you admit it to be the property of the State, judge, for the State has sold it to the company, and the compuny | are to take possession at once. I merely wish to remark that it is no use to try aud intimidate me, in the discharge of my Guty. We are here with the authority, in due form, to go abead and survey and fence in our lands, and we are | going to doit, If your men attempt to inter- | fere with us, the blame will lie on you, and not onus. We have the law with us.” And the air with. which the man spoke con- vinced the judge that he meant what he said; for Jack Tomlinson, with all his faults, had the reputation of being a man of his Word, and it was so seldom that he bad the law on his side, that, when he did, it was a feather in his cap, of which he would make use, if necessary, asthe | justification for unlimited homicides, under the plea of self. defense, The ranchers were puzzled what to say or do. The party opposed to them was ‘armed to the teeth, and evidently had come there, as Tom- linson had said, to do as they pleased. To create a fight at that time was to destroy the round-up and have a good deal of trouble, to say nothing of the bloodshed that was sure to ensue. ‘*Panch” Burleson, usually the most irasci- ble of the party, but always sensitive if a friend was in any danger of Joss, put in his efforts to conciliate the reckless desperado, who ‘was car- rying matters with such a high hand. ‘*See here, Tomlinson,” he said, pléadingly, “T allers thought you was too much of a gen- tleman to come and spoil a man’s round-up, like this. If you’ve got any surveyin’ to do. why can’t you keep it till arter the round-up time’s over. We don’t want to go ag’in’ the law, but here’s a lot of cattle all ready to brand, and this muss will scatter them all over the county. Can’t ye let the thing go foraday ortwo? IL spose the claim ain’t so large that it'll take ye a hull year to fence it in.” Tomlinson turned to the other with bis wick- edest smile, as he retorted: ‘Mr. Burleson, when I was in trouble, the last time the grand jury sat at Satanstown, J’m told you said that the county would be well off if a dozen like me were shot or hung. Very well, sir; I have never taken any notice of that ‘remark because the proper time kad not come, Now, I’m on my own stamping-ground, and : propose to do it, if you git too obstropo- ous, epee was 3 ap whe opin ae edu- cation, and generally used pretty angt.age; but the long habit of associating with a had got him in a way of dropping grammar and everything else when he got excited and dan- rous, and now he looked as if he was spoiling or a fight. -— ** Panch ” colored deeply, for bis own temper was high, but he contained himself so far as to say: “T ain’t the man to go back on what I’ve said; and no ono knows that better than you, Jack Tomlinson. If you want a muss, you kin have it, as quick as you please, But that ain’t what you come here fur; is it?” “No, sir, [came for no such thing,” replied the other, with his hand still at his bip. “I came, as I said, to protect this surveying party, and I have the warrant as constable, in my pocket. Before you men get into trouble, be sure you have the right to fight, Lookat that.” As he spoke, he showed, with one hand, the parchment that they all recognized as the State property, and thé sight produced an instant revulsion on the minds of the ranchers, 7 Like all Texans, since the war, they had a great deal of pride in the law-obeying spirit of the men who, were its citizens, and were ner- vously sensitive to the reproach of being called * lawless,” : t Callahan himself, as soon as he saw the ap- intment, drew back, with the remark: — “That settles it, gentlemen, Mr. Tomlinson has a right to go ahead, and weshall bave to go to Austin, to see about this. Inthe mean time, Tomlinson, what am I going to do about this round-up?” The moment the desperado had the assurance, from the words of the rancher, that the idea of armed resistance was over, his politeness re- turned, and he said, with more kindly feeling than he had yet shown: ‘* As long as you don’t dispute our right to be here, colonel, we don’t want to be hogs. Til see the men don’t git in your way more than we rt help, and he kin go on with your round-up. ‘ome, boys, git together, and out of way of the cattle.” 2 = } r ‘ceeded in the usual style. So saying, he led his party off, out of the way of the line of cowboys, and the round-up pro Some of the stran- gers even helped, at a word from Tomlinson, and the driving of the cattle into the branding corral was executed, with a speed that was very satisfactory. The cowboys of the ranchers were so intent on their own work, that they forgot to look at what the strangers were doing, till they had the cattle safe in the corral, When the work was over, they went back toward the log house to get dinner, and found, on the way there, a number of posts, set as if to mark the Jine of a fence. At present they were only set up at long in- tervals, and the line stretched across the water front of the Lame Hog Ranch, where itabutted on the banks of the Blue Fork river, which sup- plied the cattle of all the county with water. Even this caused them no uneasiness at first, for the posts were not set up firmly, as if they were not intended for the erection of a strong fence, and they were at such long distances apart, that the rancher most immediately inter- ested in the matter thought he would have time to go to Austin and try to get the grant modified in some way, before the harm done should be | serious. The dinner over, the ranchers returned to the branding corral, and set to work at their task, the open prairie, where they had been accus- tomed to roam, The task was over at sunset, and then the whole assembly broke up, with the promise to meet, in three days more, at ‘‘ Punch” Burle- son’s ranch, to help bim in bis annual branding. The party of strangers bad vanished some- where; the way was unobstructed, and Punch Burleson, with his men, rode rapidly home to the Screw-worm Ranch, with the intention of getting there in time for supper, which would be ready when they arrived. It was a ten-mile ride, and they executed it at a canter, for horses are cheap in Texas, and no one thinks of saving them, any more than an Indian would, The sun had set when they started, but they were not waiting for the moon, which would not rise till ten o’clock, that night. The way wasa familiar one, and they were talking and Jaugh- as they rode, till they arrived at the edge of the grant on which the Screw-Worm Ranch was situated. . Then, all of a sudden, without any warning, ‘*Punch” went over his horse’s head, follow by the whole ced of cowboys as fast as ay came to a line on the ground, which they all did, in the space of about three seconds, riding rapidly as they were. A loud explosion of oaths and cries of pain was the immediate effect of this sudden tumble and all the men got up, to investigate what bad happened. ; unch had sprained his wrist; ene of the cow- boys was stunned by falling on his bead, and the whole party was the worse for the accident. But what bad caused it? A tremendous oath from one of the cowboys told the story at once, as be examined the place where they ad fallen. be shouted, ‘it’s a barb wire fence. ! The hosses is all cut to thunder !” lange immediate rush to the place, when they found he had told the trutb. A strong fence of posts, and the sharp, barbed wire that will stop Bi yy had been stretched across the path. was invisible in the dark, = =o horses were cut badly, as the cowboy CHAPTER VII. ' THE BARBED To picture the e ration of the men who bad thus been inju and bad their animals lamed and gashed by the cruel barbs of the wire-fence, is needless, Their ponies were hurt so seriously that one of them could not stand u its feet, and the others had great, gaping wounds in their chests ‘and flanks, while they were all frightened at the sudden stoppage and the smart of the gashes, er, E There were five men in the party, includin Punch, and the first thing that they thought of was to destroy the fence that had caused the mischief, : - “The darned skunks!” said Punch, savagely; “Tl teach ’em to come to Texas with their darned wires, a-trippin’ up honest men goin’ home of nights. Rip the darned fence to pieces, boys, and make a fire of the posts. I'll be even with the company, some way.” But it was easier to say “rip the fence to pieces” than to doit, They had nothing with them to cut the wires, and when they started to break the thing in the dark, the ugly barbs stuck into their fingers; - the strength of the wires defied them, except at great sacrifice of flesh, and the best they could do was to open a way for themselves into their own ranch, from which they were barred out. : Bowie-kniver were useless on the wire, and the only way th ‘ an * ey succeeded in any portion of the tough fence was by pulling upa | letting the cattle escape, as fast as branded, to. 4 le 7 or |
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and twisting the wires around it till the ragged out another post. To snap the toug iron was a task beyond their efforts, without something for the purpose fitter than nature’s weapons, They got down a piece of fence large enough to lead the horses through, and got across the line; but as oer were talking together about it, they heard the tramp of horses at a gallop, and down came a party of men, nearly twenty in number, who shouted: “Who in blazes is thar? What are ye doin’ ‘to our fence?” ““ What in blazes is your darned fence doin’ on my line?” yelled Punch Burleson, furiously, recognizing the voice of Tomlinson. ‘* You’ve Jamed our hosses, and nigh killed us all; and, by Jiminy! Vl tear yer darned fence all to ssmash in the mornin’!’ Tomlinson laughed in a taunting way. “Oho! so ye got a histe, did ye, Punch? I told ye ye’d have cause to remember what ye -said about me afore the grand jury. I got off cin spite of ye then, and now, if ye try any of yer darned tricks on me, I'l] settle yer hash this very night. Git on the darned galoots, boys! Climb ’em, I say!” With that, without more ado, the men who had come up in the dark opened a vigorous fusilade on the party of Punch Burleson, and the cracking of pistols, for a few moments, was | as rapid as if a general engagement was going “on. The odds of numbers were too great to be Overcome by r Punch, and the result was ‘tHat, in less than two minutes, his party was routed and fled to the log house of the rancb, expecting to be followed, and leaving one of | their number on the ground, by the fence of contention, stone-dead. The assailants had not escaped scot free either, for there was more than one groaning, as he sat in bis saddle, but the damage done was disproportioned to that of the opposite party, and one of the desperadoes called out to the rest: * Let’s go in and finish ’em, boys. It’ll be the cheapest in the end,” The reckless scoundrels were actually starting off to execute their threat of extermination, when the voice of Tomlinson checked them with ‘the advice: “ Better hold yer hosses, boys, The law’s on our side now, as far as we’ve gone; but it won't be if we go thar to clean ’em out. Git to work and set this fence straight. The darned galoots has torn up nigh a hull section.” And the men, with a discipline that showed how they felt in awe of the renowned Tomlin- son, obeyed his orders, and set up the panel of fence that bad been pulled down, with a skill and rapidity that was accounted for by the fact that they were provided with plenty of tools for the purpose, and were engaged to execute ‘the work. The post that had been torn up was replaced, vand set stronger than before; the wires were looked to, and found not to be injured, so that ‘they would still hold cattle; and then the body of night-riders p ed on their route, to inspect the lines of fence that had been set up, that very day, half a dozen parties, working simultaneously. There was no fear of their running on the wires in the dark, for they knew their location ito a foot, and carried dark lanterns besides. They rode along the line, for mile after mile, and when they got to the end of it, Tomlinson xemarked: “Tt it hadn’t been fur that round-up to-day, we'd ha’ bad the hull county fenced in at onc ; Dut, as itis, we'll get the work through to-mor- row. Quite a new ae Nag us boys to be play- in’ officers of the law; ain’t it?” Tbe remark brought a laugh, for most of the men in the party belonged to the desperado ‘class, which has always been numerous in ‘Texas, and the way of their previous life had abo them a taste for fighting that promised to a good thing for the success of their mission of intimidation in Satanta county. The idea of engaging them for constables was a brilliant one, as the regular officers of the law in the eounty, being friends of the neighbors, and ‘sympathizing with them, would not have been ‘reliable for the service on which these men were now engaged. It required men who were at war with societ ‘to take the stand they did, and to pay off their old = oes against everybody who had ever offended them, under the cover of the law. All that night they patrolled the line of the fence, and, in the morning, found that Punch Burleson was not the only man who bad come to grief with his party over the invisible wires, in the dark, Opposite to Deaf Smith’s ranch they found a lace where the blood on the ground showed Hone aserious accident had bappened, and the dy of a pony, lying on the ground with a eg across its throat where the sharp barbs d actually cut the jugular vein, called forth Bs remark from one of the men as he surveyed Gesrocestonat Won't the beggars swear when they find we've been all over? But, I Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick- 4 Hunter. 7 tell ye what it is, boys; it’s darned rough of the company not to give them notice.” It was the grudging admission of a man who had not quite outlived his conscience; for the destruction wrougbt seemed so wanton and causeless, that even the desperado who saw it felt some compunction. Tomlinson turned on him savagely,%o say: “You, Piug Walcot, shut up your head! What sort of darned fools would we have b’en, to give ’em notice? We've got all we kin do to bold the lines, as it is; and if we’d ha’ had to guard it, while we were a-buildin’ of it, too, we'd never ha’ got it done inthe world. J’m runnin’ this thing now, and I don’t want none of yer chicken-hearts here. If ye’re afeerd to go on, say so, and thar’s lots ready to take yer place. The company pays better’n any one you ever worked fur; and it ain’t nothen to what it were, when you was in hidin’ from the sheriff,.for that boss affair in the other caounty.” Plug Walcot shut up at once, for the chief had hit bim on atender spot. Horse-stealing in Texas is a grave matter—far graver than homicide, and Tomlinson was the only one who knew that Plug bad been “up for it” at any time. The country in which the offense was committed was many hundred miles away from Satanta, and Plug had come there hoping not to be recognized; but the words of Tomlin- son convinced him that he was wrong in his hopes, “ J didn’t mean nothen,” he said. deprecating- ly. Tiromitinon favored him with a scornful sneer, | o« Ye never do. Yeain’t the kind that means nothen, Ye’re a kind of a wooden man, J think. Git on, boys. The overseer’s comin’ to the ranch-house to-day.” The party rode on in the early light of the morning, toward the new ranch-house that had been built by the a of the Blue Fork ina spot where tbe beaufies of nature would bave seemed enough to make man forget that his neighbor had anything to be robbed of when plenty was scattered around for all. The ranchers had seen it going up, and had hoped that some rich and pleasant neighbor was coming to improve the county and make his hospitality Known throughout Texas. They had never suspected a Jand-sbark, who was to make everybody wish that he had never been heard of. The bouse was built of logs, but not in the old way, with a single room, or two at the most, “ the whole a mere abiding-place for wet avs. This log house had been constructed after the design of an eminent Eastern architect, who had seen in the idea infinite capabilities of orna- ment and picturesque quaintness. - It had two stories, with gables innumerable; oriel windows thrown out of the top; glass case- ments, brick chimneys, rustic verandas and — on all sides, and, altogether, was as andsome a thing as need be desired in a country where logs were cheap for the cutting, till the woods were cleared away. The party of fence-guards came in sight of the house at about half an hour after sunrise, and the curls of smoke from the chimney pro- claimed that tenants bad come. ; “That’s the boss,” said Tomlinson, as he his forward. ‘They said he’d come to-day, and™he’s ’arlv. He need be, too; for I reckon thar’s going to be trouble, boys,” When they arrived in front of the house — saw on the front porch, smoking a cigar, a man with a brown beard, who nodded to them in a distant, haugbty way, very unlike the frank courtesy of Texans when strangers come in sight. This man was handsome enough, as far as features and frame went, He was tall and stout- ly built, with the straight nose and clear blue eyes that show good health and birth—as far as ancestry goes, That he was an Englishman no one could doubt who saw bis dress, for he wore the tra- Gitional tweed shooting-jacket and Scotch cap, that are the mark of the traveling Englishman all the world over. But, with all his handsome face, there was a hard, selfish expression in the lines of the mouth, a glitter in the eyes that told of a sav- age temper, and vicious disposition, And the face did not bely bim either; for the Honorable George Berkeley was one of the kind of men that go by the name of “black sheep” in Englani where they are plentiful. - The younger son of an earl, with an elder brother, who had sufficient family to make it a sure thing that the Honorable George would never inherit the title, young Berkeley had started in life with the three avenues of distinc- tion open to the British aristocracy before him, but with a taste for none of them. He might have gone into the eburch, and been a bishop in due time, with an casy lazy life; but, to do that, he would have had to keep his name un- spotted from the various pleasures that young men are wont to indulgein, He might have gous into the army. and he did try it for a time, — enough to get into debt, toan extent that frigl g 1. tened his respected papa, the earl, to the verge of apoplexy. But the earl would not pay his debts, and gave his son the sensible advice to ‘go to America,” : The advice was not taken at the time, for Berkeley had discovered that there was some use in being the son of an earl, even if the title was several lives off. He had gone on the turf had luck in his first ventures, and had run a wild race with the Jews and money-lenders till Eng- land grew too hot to hold him; when he came to America, on his own account, and found the world of snobbery, in New York city, as open to him as itis toevery English scion of the nobility that comes there. There he had fallen in with the promoter of the Glasgow Cattle Company, who had induced a number of English tradesmen to invest money in the idea of tremendous tracts of land in the Western States, at a dojlar and a quarter an acre, ~ The profits of cattle-raising, undoubtedly large, had been magnified to the utmost by this promoter; and Berkeley had recogniz-d in bim an old crony on the turf, called Stiarpe, who well deserved his name. Sharpe bad suggested to him that, if he wanted something to do, he could not find a better chances than the position of overseer to the new cattle range, in Texas; and the young man, who had run the. whole course of exciteroent, till he had beeome weary of civilized life, had jumped at the offer. The salary was large, for companies ee pay big salaries, when the promoters have the eare of the cash, and the stockholders are on the other side of the sea, The profits would un- doubtedly be enormous, if the capital to inclose the land and get the cattle was forthcoming, and that was the care of the promoter, The duty of Berkeley was to be the general enforeer of the ruthless policy demanded by the situa- tion. For this he was eminently fitted, for be had not lived a fast life in England without learn- ing to do a good manv things that would stand him in good stead in Texas. He was a fighter with his fists, sword, sticks, and even knife, having learned that “ fora fly,” as he said, when he was in New York, from a fencing-master. Hecould shoot as well as most Texans with a pistol, and with a shot-gun could take birds on the wing ina style that astonisbed the cowboys. He had a frank manner when he wished, and could be very dignified, thanks to a tall figure and early education. He had a knowledge of the worid that kept him from offending the prejudices of the rougher portion of the in- habitants, and be had the unflinching determin- ation that was necessary in the position he was placed in. Now, as he stood in the porch of the Jog palace that went by the nameof Berkeley Castle, he was the picture of the power of a name, tomake a bad man resp . ; Even Tomlinson bowed to him, with the air of aman who knows he has met bis master, and the careless nod which Berkeley gave, ex- pressed the thought in the mind of the English- man: : + Confounded cad, but I’ve got to be civil to “Well, Tomlinson,” be asked, as the other rede up, “what did you do last night? Any- bod gee e «Wo, re replied Tomlinson. ‘‘ That is, there Dut they didn’t dott o Purpose — pane ; ut they didn’t do it on * the worst of it, you kin bet. ” Berkeley. gave a short laugh. “Hem! Confound’em! 1 should say so. It’s a beastly thing to run into in ‘the jax. Any horses burt?” **Reckon so, sir. There wasa lot of blood in _ place, and at another they tried to bluff us off.’ “ Bluff you off? Ob, I understand what you mean—bounce—eh? Well, what did you do Tomlinson put bis hand down on bis bip with a wink, and Berkeley asked quickly: ‘‘ Anybody burt? You know it ~yon’t do to ride over these fellows rough-shod, till we’ve got the men to back us,” ‘ ““Can’t help that, sir. We bad a difficul with them, and there was a man shot, in Pane Burleson’s gang.” ‘*Ah, poor beggar!” was all Berkeley said, coldly. »> CHAPTER VIIL THE SISTERS, _ But Deaf Smith and Punch Burleson w not the only persons wko had come to grief, that night, from the bar wire fence, so treacherously placed there. : The ranchers and rangers of Satanta count: extended along the river front of Biue Fork; and the homeward way of all the parties that went from the Lame Hog round-up, crossed the line of this diabolical fence, that bad been part- ly raised during the previous day, though no one had known it, and was completed, day during the cytes by taking in the river — The last party to leave the ranch of the Collingsworth; and the a ju i; sphere rn ST
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a _ news that he was ‘a doctor.” : ___. Helen bad been the aks gualitet, anyining of his pas world to bless himself with, “country, “scared out,” as every one thought, om 8 Old Or judge was an old man, who was not able to stand the fall, like the others, He was riding bard, to get home early, when | bis pony stumbled against the wire fence and threw him over its head, cutting a deep gash in the poor animal’s chest, at the same time that it | knocked the old man senseless. | His men picked him up as soon as they had recovered from the angry consternation into which th; discovery of the fence had thrown them, and managed to get bim home to his daughters. There was sorrow and grief in the Colfings- | worth homestead that night, but there was not | the angry determination on revenge displayed | by the bachelor members of the county society ; | for the girls were too much fmghtened and grieved to know what to tbink, They had beard that the new log* palace, which the cattle company had erected, was to be the finest thing of the kind ever seen; and | that the man who had been engaged as over- seer was a ‘‘real English nobleman,” by which they understood a gorgeous creature, an earl or duke or something of the sort—who would | drop his ‘‘h’s” in the style that some Ameri- | cans think inevitable in England, and end in making some T»xan girl a duchess or countess, or something of the sort; for on this the ideas of the young ladies were hazv, but rosy-tinted, The sudden arrival of their father, after such a severe accident, from the machinations of this very English lord, was a sbock to all the ideas that they bad formed, and the fact that they had no male relative ia the bouse, and no one to depend on but the illiterate cowboys, was an additional blow to the unfortunate girls, left in doub’ as to whether their father was not fatally injured, The nearest doctor was at Satenstown, the county seat, twenty miles off; and, as the | judge did not recover his senses after he came home, one of the men was sent off at a gallop to fetch him while the girls hung over the couch on which toe old man had been laid, | pending the coming of the doctor. Diana, usually the most resolute of the two, was on this occasion the one who broke down | most completely, while the gentler Helen bore up tbe best, and did what could be done, around the coach, to cool the sufferer’s head, with an idea that. the trouble was there, e fact was, that toe judge had received a concussion of the brain, and the measures adopt- ed by Helen were the only ones the best doctor could have adopted in the case. | The old man bad gone into a muttering de-| lirium, and lay on the bed, moving his head from side to side, in a way that showed the paio he felt there, while the visions that. passed through his brain were of round ups and the ordinary incidents of ranch life. _ It was while in this condition, that a gentle tap was heard at the door, and when -Helen went there tu see what was the matter, she found one of the cowboys who rejoiced in the | rich name of “‘ Shorty,” from bis brief stature,’ waiting outside. ‘Please, miss,” he said, with: the respect shown by Texans to a white woman, under all circumstances, ‘‘there’s a gentleman wants to see the jedge, says he’s a dovtor. It’s the gen- tleman as was bhyar, when the fa!l ronnd up was held, miss; name of Field, miss.” Phen fli -aesim: color — vary} Mestenset oung girl—a very ty face by the by— ai sha oare the tanta ws oo Tom Field the year before had been at her father’s round-up when be was fresh from the East, in appren to the cattle trade. He had attracted attention from the fact that he was the only man of education ever seen in Satan county, save her father; and the acquaintance might have been one of serious results, had it ot been found out that the young man had no money. | Money is as potent in Texas as anywhere else; and the man who would be respected even as a cowboy, if it was thought be had money to in- vest, was scorned when it appeared that he had none, - He had been much liked at first, but had been regarded as not pervs | the neces- sary pluck for a Texan, when it was found that be declined to be n into a quar- ‘rel by any of the numerous ranchers of the neighborhood, who were suitors for the hand of ss Helen, and resented the fact of a ‘*mere cowboy” presuming to be accomplished and agreeable, when he had not a penny in the Punch Burleson bad tried to quarrel with him in more than one way; Deaf Smith hed called him a “darned launkhead;’ the “colonel” had given him to understand that ‘‘men from the t{ were not welcome in Texas, unless they kept their places,” and the result had been that the handsome and inoffensive young man, who had been bired to work at the Collingsworth Ranch, bad suddenly disappeared from the And now be had come back to the ranch, at the very time when be was most needed, with the only one om he had . tite when be bed oss-Eye, thé Maverick-Hunter. been there before, and she knew that he bad I am only anxious to try if Iean do any good. | studied the art of medicine, and bad graduated from somes Eastern college, when some misfor- | tune to which he would not revert, had sent | him to the West, with no means to establish a! tone of the words he used restored her self- practice anywhere, and had forced him into the occupation of a cowboy. The girl hesitated for a moment, and then said to Shorty: es ‘‘T will see the gentleman, James, Tell him I will be down in a minute.” Shorty, whose ful name was James Benton, retired, and Helen whispered to Diana: “Mr, Field bascome., Heisa doctor. Shell we call him in? He may save father’s life.” She had a singular air of doubt about her, as if she feared her sister’s answer, and it was with reason; for Diana frowned as sbe retorted: ‘*T don’t believe he isa doctor at all. If he eomes in, it is only to spy. Ishould think you had had enough of bim, Helen. A coward like him is no use atany time. If he comes, I leave the room,” Helen, usually the gentle and timid one, set ber Jips together with an expression of resolu- tion, not common with ber, as she answered; *T take the responsibility. I know more of him than youdo. You are prejudiced, Sup- pose that tatber dies before the other doctor comes; bow should we ever forgive ourselves for letting a chanee go of saving him? I am going to e*]! him in.” Diana Gailingeworth tossed. her head. Even in the extremity of her fear and grief for ber father, the prejutices that bad been implanted in her by early education made her obstinate, and she answered: “As you please, I suppose the man can do something; but as soon as the other doctor comes, I shall insist on his dismissal and payment. Father would never forgive us, if he knew that we had let that man into the bouse. How has he dared to come here, arty way?” Bat Helen bad not heard the last words; for she had already left the room, and was on her way to the parlor below, where the. young stranger fromthe distant ranch of the Mave- rick-Hunters was waiting for her, and as soon as —— her, his face flusbed with pleasure, as he Sald: “This isindeed kind, Miss Collingsworth, I heard of the accident, and ventured to come over, for I knew that Dr. Horsford was away, at the medical convention at Austin, and would not be available,” Heleu, now that she was in the different woman from her who defender in the sick-chamber. She, too, bad been trougbt up in the extreme Southern ideas about dueling; and whén the former cowboy, whom every one had Kaown to be a gentleman by education, had refused to take up the challenges which bad been showered on bim by his rivals, a year before, she bad had a@ severe struggle with herself, from the fact that he had already secured a hold on her heart by his grace and refinement, and the shock to her of finding him, as she supposed, a coward, was all the more severe, = tet It was in a very haughty tone, that she an- swered: arlor, was a ad been his ou will try what you can do, paid for your professional ser- vices.” She looked at bim slyly, from out the corner of her eye, as she spoke, for she had not seen -bim for a year, and was interested in his looks. When he had first come ts the ranch, he had been a tall, thin young fellow, with a pale face and languid air, who had not been much of a horseman, and knew nothieg of sbooting in the cawboy style, : He had been the butt of the rougher ele- ments of the ranch, and had taken it all very good-naturedly from indisposition to quar- rel, and a temperament sensitive and artistic :oa degree that bad rendered him an object of good- bhumored contempt to the healthy, stout fellows | who made the working force of the ranch. He had been a favorite with the cowboys, strange to say, in spite of his inoffensive ways, on account of his uniform good-nature and the willingness be bad always shown to be general letter-writer for the crowd, when they wanted to send news to their people of their welfare. It was the ranchers who had set on him.so viciously, when they found that be was ‘‘ mak- ing eyes at the judge’s daughter,” and they who had driven him out of society into the wilder- ness, as a Maverick-Hunter. Helen Collingsworth saw, in the face and figure of tie young man before her, a great change for the better, He had gone away, pale and thin: he bad come back strong and active, with the flush of healtb on his ebeek, ES He smiled, as she spoke to bim so havughtily, pes Ae tes her, with rather ceremonious iteness; ‘Thank you. I did not come here to start a age 1 assure you. The case pectee to r, Horsford. There is an etiquette in the medi- cal profession that laymen do not understand. ‘as 1 have told you. The case, as far as I bave heard is one of a se- vere fall, Is the patient sensible?” Helen sbook her head sadly. The medica? composure, for it drew ber away from the. ““No,” she answered. ‘He has been “deliri- ous eveysince, and lies there muttering.” “Then the quicker I go up, the better,” said Field, briskly. “I can do nothing till 1 bave seen the patient. By the by, if your sister ob- jects to my goirg in, tell her, if you please, that Dr. Horsford knows me, and that I am only attending this case till be comes back from the convention,” Then, without waiting for her, he rose and went toward ths door, as if to hurry her, and she followed him with a readiness thatsbe could hardly explain to herself, but which was really the effect of her confidence in the calm, quiet young man before her. She preceded him to the room, where Diana sat by the bedside, and, as soon as they ents red, the high-spirited Di rose up, and was about: to sweep from the chamber, as if the presence wi pag young man was pollution, when Helen said: “Don’t go, Di. Dr. Horsford sent this gentle- man,” ' CHAPTER IX. DEAF SMITH’s VISIT. WHEN Tom Field rode away from the Col- lingsworth Ranch, he left the judge awake. but: very weak and stupid, with a splitting head- ache, 2 The young ladies were reassured, when thev beard that the injury would probably pass off in a few days, during which the old man was to - kept in a dark room, and as quiet as possi- le, Diana, who had been so haughty at first, was actually induced to give the young docior a gracious word at parting. He remained by the. bedside all night, and only left the place when the dawn and the awakening of the patient had come simultane- ously, with such symptoms of recovery, that his: departure was prudent, ¢ As he prepared to ride away from the ranch, Helen Collingsworth asked him: ‘* When wi'l you be back, doctor?” She used the professional word advisedly, and he understood her, for be said: ‘‘T think there will be no need, if you will do It is merely acase of shock, which will wear off in afew days. He must be pa from excitement as much as possible. It is lucky I happened to be down kere last night.”” “How did it happen?” asked Helen, Lefore she thougbt of what she was saying. Then she added, coloring deeply: ‘‘I beg your pardon. Thad no right to ask. But I thought that you had—” ; “That I had left the State, you mean.” he answered, with a smile. ‘‘ That is atbing, Miss Collingsworth, that youwill notsee, You bave an idea that I am easily driven off; but you will find that I have more perseverance than many people. think. . Good-morning. I will come. again at sundown.” — Then be rode away in the gray light of the early dawn, and left Helen at the front door of the house, thinking what be could mean, For they hed a front door, and more than that, at the Collingsworth Ranch, The hcuse was the fiuest in the pees a the coming: of the cattle company, and judge had sunk a good portion of the capital with which he had come to Texas, in making a place that would remind.bim a little of the home be had had in Georgia, before the war, «hen he was a plavfer and the Cherokee roses flourished round tho front porch at Cbristmas. os The house had two stories, a broad veranca round it, with a garden in front, where tho young ladies cultivated all sorts of flowers, that were found nowhere else in Satanta county, a ap no one else took the trouble to raise them, . As the young lady stood there at the door, Rites the departing horseman, she became aware that another man was coming from the direction of Deaf Smith’s ranch, and recogn zed in him the redoubtable Smith himself. Involuntarily the girl began to tremble, fer she had last seen the two together when the young man.from the East had been outrageous- ly insulted by Smith, who had hectored over bim and sent him orf, with the sentiment of the company that he was a poltroon. Was the scene té be repeated now? When this man, whom she could not help liking for his skill and knowledge, bad almost succeeded. in obliterating the past from ber mind, was she egain to witness him show the white feather? ; - It seemed so; for, as soon as Deaf Smith saw the other coming from the ranch, be drew up. his horse across the path and waited for the young doctor, with an air that Helen knew well. Tt was the regular swagger of the Texas “ bad man” whois spoiling fora fight. = Deaf Smith was a stout, powerful: being the b had the reputation of tbe besb pougl ' oo os
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tumble fighter in the county, and who prided himself‘ot the fact that no man had ever yet aucceed-d in getting ‘‘his word” from him—’ that is, induced him to call ‘‘ enough” when he he his eyes in danger of being torn out of his hed. He was near enough to the ranca for every- thing that he said to be heard, but he did not see the girl; for, as soon as, she saw .bim, she whisked into the house and peepea out from be- hind the shield of the door. She heard Deaf Smith call out, as soon as the other was close enough to be spoken to: “So ye’re byar again, air ye? Ye con arned lunkhead, what the blazes air ye doin’ in ‘Texas, anyway? Yeain’t got the pluck of a chivken, leave alone a white man. Say! d’ye hear m ?’ Then Helen peeped out more openly, and saw that Field had stopped his borse and was ey- ing the other in a way that showed his appre- hension, ' The girl grew positively sick with sbame as she saw it, for she thought that be was about to show-the white feather again. But she listened and heard him say, with a slow emphasis that showed be was trying to make the deaf man | understand bim: ‘“Mr, Smith, I don’s wantAny difficulty with you. Ionly desire to live in peace with my neighbors.” Woether Deaf Smith understood him or not is not ma‘erial to the question, If he did, the words did not soften him a bit; | for b@ rode close up to the other, aud bawled | iat: ‘¢You’rea coward! D’ye hear me? A cow- ard! D’ye want any more, ye «arned Yankee skunk! [ll slap ye in the jaw, if ye want ir.” Then Helen uttered a sort of moan to herself, as she saw the young man suddenly set spurs to his horse and gallop off, while Deaf Smith, with a taunting laugh, took out bis pistol and sent a bullet after the flying horseman, that went ‘singing over his bead and cut the top of his bat in the operation. “To think,” she murmured as she shut the door, ‘‘ he should be so handsome and such a gentlemen, and yet a coward. It is incredible.” As for Deaf S:nith, be put up bis pistol, and came riding to the house; when she saw that his face was marked with an ugly gash, as if he had been in a fight over night, and bad got the worst of it.. pels ; The sight of this man, who bad just perpetra- ted such a brutal and causeless insult on one who had never offended bim in any way, caused her to shudder slightly, for, with all ber South- ern prejudices against cowardice, asshe thought of the patience under insult displayed by Field, ‘ she-had no love for the bully who had picked the quarrel with him. - So she shut the door and went up-stairs, ‘where she found Diana at the window, her face flushed with anger, showing, just sbe had heard the conversation as well as Helen. The judge was sleeping, and Diana beckoned her sister out of the room, to whisper: “Isn’t it infamous? I shall die of shame, if he ever’comes here again, He must fight these fellows; they are only picking on bim because they think he will not _ What does that Deaf Smith want, I wonder? I won’t see. bim, I hate him.” She spoke with a vehemence that showed how she was affected, and Helen was surprised at her manner. Hitherto Diana had been the one who had treated Field witb contumely, and had spoken of him with the utmost bitterness; and now, to the surprise of her sister, she was ac- ‘tually angry with the man who had insulted dim, as much as with himeelf, But Deaf Smith had come to the front door, and was ringing on bell with a vigor that knew no denia Aunt Chloe, who had come with the family han n the State of Georgia, came waddling out of the kitchen, where she had been preparing the breakfast, grumbli all the way at the early caller, and went to the door, when the girls, who were up-stairs, heard the voice of the deaf rancher 4 \ ’ “Don’t be skeered, auntie. Hain’t b’en at a shootin’-match yit. Haow’s the jedge? Up t? a Why, laws, Marse Smith,” exclaimed Chloe, horrified at the sight of bis face. ‘* Whar has -you b’en? Old marse done gone and got burt- ed, lass night. Didn’t ye heer on that, marse?” Deat Smith had into the habit of watcb- ing the lips of ie and gathering a great deal of what they meant from their motion, 4 Hurt!” he echoed. “ Who's burt? It takes more’n that to skeerareg’lar Texan. J ain’t hurt, vot to speak of; but I’m mad, cl’ar through.” , Chioe stared at him and made no yeniy. ‘“Why, what’s de matter, Marse Smit 9” ‘“‘ Matter!” echoed the Texan, with a string of oaths, which he did not restrain in the least for the presence of Chloe, ‘‘The darned ga- joots that’s come round hyar, fencin’ in the country, is what’s the matter. I wanter see ee lever had, and I wanter see the jedge, and have a palaver on what’s to be did.” Helen and Diana heard what he said, and comprehended in 4 moment what had happened, Deaf Smith had come to the same grief that bad befallen their own father. With a look—that sort of look which passes etween two women who thoroughly under- stand each other—they went down the stairs, from the landing at which they had been list- ening; and, as soon as the rancher saw them, he pulled off his bat with a low bow, and said politely: “Hope you ladies didn’t hear me usin’ any bad talk, 1t slips out sometimes, and I don’t mean to. Is the jedge up yit, ladies? Thar’s goin’ to be trouble in this caounty, and we wanter git the solid men together,” Diana who knew him best could make herself understood by him wh@h no one else could, said in a whisper, but making tbe mo- tions of ber lips.very plain: “ Father—was—hurt—lest—night.” The rancher understood her ina moment, an cried: . ‘Then, by gum, it’s jest g scandalous shame! The jedge hurt, too! Was it over a wire fénce, ladies?” Helen nodded, and the honest, but hot-tem- pered man had to go outside the door to indulge ina burst of profanity which he could not re- strain, but which he would by no_means give utterance to in the presence of the ladies, When he came back, relieved by the little out- burst, he asked: **Is he hurt bad, Miss Di?” CHAPTER X. THE ENGLISH OVERSEER. Diana COLLINGSWORTH answered Deaf Smith very slowly, and trying to give emphasis to every word: “TP he—doctor—was—here. will—get—well.” Deaf Smith’s face brightened up as he said: “The doctor! .That was darned lucky, warn’t it, Miss Di? I thought old i orsford war at He—says— he— Austin. He told me he were a going to Some. convention or other.” Diana pointed. down the rcad where Field had just gone away, saying: ** That—was—the—doctor—you—met—just— now.” Had she slapped Deaf Smith’s face she cculd not have surprised him more than she did, when be fully understood what she meant. His face changed from its usual ruddy color to a pallor that looked as if he was afraid of what he had done, and it was with an accent of profound regret that he said: “Darn my buttons and skin, Miss Di, if I’d ha’ knowed that, I’d never—” Then be pulled himself up short, for he was one of the kind that alwavs ignores that there has been any sort of a fight, when ladies are around, and continued: : “Very glad to byar that the jedge is gettin’ better, ladies. When he gits well, we want to see him. It’s time this thing were stopped, and it’s a-goin’ to be, you kin bet yer bottom doilar. Good-day, ladies,” : : And he burried away with such ludicrous promptitude that Helen smiled to her sister, as she whispered: : ‘He's ashamed of himself, and he ought to be too, It’s one thing to be timid, and another to bea bully, who sets on innocent men.” Diana made no answer, for she had turned away her head as soon as Deaf Smith had left the door. The girl was actually ing, and when Helen asked what was the matter, all she would say was: “Never mind, never mind. I only wish I bad never been born, And with that she rushed back to the sick- room, and Helen was surprised, all the rest of the day, to find the ususlly wild and flighty Diana at the bedside, the most patient of nurses, while she herself had but little to do. The gay wore On, and in were surprised by. the coming of a ge Sed horsemen, with a tall man at the head, w handsome face and English dress proclaimed that be was the English overseer of whom they had heard such marvelous tales, He came riding up to the gate of the ranch, with his following of men, as if he had been an Indian chief at the head of a war-party. The men with him were all armed to the teeth, and had the air of lt customers, but they remained outside, while the leader came into the entrance, and rung at the door- To old Chloe, who opened it, he said: “ Ab! would you be so good as to inform me if there isa gentleman—of the name of—ah— jud —ab—Judge ee oe bere?” ““Yis, marse,” sdid old Chloe, respectfully, for she saw at a glance that the stranger was what she called “one of de big bugs.” The tall stranger came a little closer in, and the jedge, and git the.»men that bas a stake, | asked her: ther, to see what's to be done. The galoots a ae and killed a hoss ne ~- “And is the gentleman in, by any chance, dpe and give old lady? is cut in the face, that sp'iles all the looks |“ Yis, marse; but de jedge is berry sick. He A was in the same boat with the rest. the afternoon they. Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. 9 done gone hab an accident last night. Hein bed, marse, but de young ladies is in, marse.” She added this, with an idea that the young ladies would be angry if they did not see_ this handsome stranger who had come there. Poor Chloe did not know anything of the cause of her master’s accident, and had no idea that the man before her was that cause. The Honorable George Berkeley hesitated a moment, for the words told him that there was another victim of the fence that hud been put up in the dark, and that the tide of unpopu- larity was growing steadily all the time. Then the native and acquired impudence of the man prevailed, and he said larguidly: “Ah yes—that is very untortunate, Indeed. Please give the gentleman my card, and say that I called. I wish to be neighborly, you know, and—ah—well— Good morning.” Then be turned away from the door, and went to his horse, where he found Tomlinson waiting, to whum he said quietly: ‘* Beastly awkward, Tomlinson. The old chap Took a cropper over the wires in the night. By Jove, ifs getting bad for the poor beggars.” Then he rode away, and the troop of despe- radoes that followed bim there rode after bim with a reckless swagger that told of their anx- iety to pick a quarrel with any one rash enough to provoke it, ; . He had come out that morning to find ont what had been done during the night by the fence, and to make sure in advance that no one should think him a man to be intimidated by any amount of anger or threats. He had met Deaf Smith on the road in the morning and the furious rancher had shown bim plainly by the air with which he passed him that there was nothing which would have afforded him greater pleasurethan to have entered into a fight with him, then and there. But that was just what Berkeley bad been ex- pecting, and the sight only made him smile de- risively; for he wes secure from any ill-organ- ized attempt to entrap bim into a quarrel, by the number and character of bis followers. Deaf Swith had only three cowboys on his ranch, for he was a small owner, and the cattle company had twenty, besides the special con- stables sworn in for the defense of the great claim. The moneyed corporation could count on about fifty men, well armed, to resist any at- tack, and oy were safe from the anger of any single rancher in Satanta county, or of any- thing short of a levy in mass of the whole oa & lation of the county. : So Deaf Smith bad had to take out his re- venge in scowling, for he had sufficient prudence to know that it would not pay to pick a quarrel with a man who was waiting for it. — i Punch Burleson was equally powerless for evil to the strange overseer, though he was more bitter if possible than Deaf Smith. He had been demoralized by the way in which the des- peradoes, at Tomlinson’s back, had set on him, at the smalle-t provocation, on the previous night; and was not inclined to try conclusions with him any more, till he was better pre- pared, 7 But when it came to Judge Collingsworth, whom Berkeley knew, from Tomlinson, to bea respected and well-known man ail over the State, the English overseer began to look thoughtful, as be rode away from the ranch, observing: yi “It’s a beastly awkward thing this, Tomlin- son, The old beggar’s got burt,“ I thought you said he had daughters, by the by.” ‘*So he has,” replied Tomlinson, - “ Pretty, eh?” ; “Very. Handsome, they say,” Was the re- ply, with a slight rise of color, for Tomlinson remembered how on a certain occasion one of them bad openly cut him dead, when he had tried to force himself on ber in the streets of | Satanstown. ‘‘Too darned haughty for m taste, but there ‘ain’t no denyin’ they’re hand- , some.” “Then, by Jove! they must think we're a set of savages,” the Briton thoughtfully observed. ‘*T wish we'd bad time to warn t old fellow about the fence before he went home, It’s a othe Hevcrabl Geo Ned ‘The Honorable rge ca e thing he did not like ‘‘a beastly bore,” Tonilineca understood him, ei Suffer a oate. of spinory, "he poten, aarti eran te) gy,” he pursued, * tively. “If the girls are bandsome, as you say, it’s just}as well to— Look here, Tomlinson, suppose you take a note to the father, and see how they take it?” Tomlinson shook his bead. i nt any in mine. ‘“*Thankee, sir; but 1 don’ It’s as much @s any one ma e's worth, now to go to any, bouse in this ty, til] we’ve ad our fight, I x downed these men. You don’t know Texas yet.” wi . Berkeley smiled, in bis superior, English way. s ; rf ee eee I don’t understand Tex- as, as well as you do, my friend; but I flatter m that buman nature is the same. as pe re else, and I am not cnally teckehes
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~ Tom E the words of the other. It wasa regular chal- a 10 8 fool, there. If you, are afraid to go, say the word, and I will.’ “Tomlinson looked aghast at the Britisher who spoke to bim in this way. ‘ Had any other man in the State told him to his face that ‘“‘he was afraid” he would have pulled on him, in a moment. But there was something in the languidly haughty way of the English seamp, which he had contracted from the habit of associating only with the titled sharpers of the other side of the sea, that overawed Tomlinson, in spite of himself; and he said: “Well, captain, if it comes to that, I don’t hesitate to say that I should be afraid to go to that house, alone, now. Didn't you see the men seme us? If one of us went there alone, it is ten chances to one that he would be set on, and dropped before he had time to pull a weapon.” : ‘But what for?” asked Berkeley, with the same air of supercilious wonder that he had displayed: omlinson was nettled. ‘“What for? What in blazes should it be for? Ain’t we gone and hurt“the olf man, at the ranch, and ain’t he the boss, thar? Texas cow- boys don’t wait long, when a friend’s hurt, They’d ha’ opened fire on us, that time, only we was too strong fur ’em; and they seen it.” * Berkeley turned his horse’s head to the house that he had just left, asking: } ‘*And do you mean to say that, if one of us goes there alone, he is liable to be fired at, with- out any questions asked?” ‘That's jest what I mean, Cap.” Tomlinson bad heard that his new chief had been in the British army, and called him ‘‘ eap- tain” from the necessity of every man in Texas to wear a title of some kind, and as a mark of respect. “Very well, then,” said the Englishman, with an air of resolution that made the others stare, ‘‘I am going back there, to apologize to the ladies and if you have not the pluck to fol- low me, you can stay behind, Mr. Tomlinson.” So saying, without any more ado, he rode off, back to the Collingsworth Ranch, Tomlinson stared after him, and then, setting spurs to his horse, called out to the rest: “Come op, boys, We ain’t goin’ back on the . captain.” rkeley turned round on them, and stopped them with a gesture. “TI don’t want any of your men,” he called out. ‘If you want to come, alone, with me, Tomlinson, you can doso,. But lam not going to be frightened off by any man in Texas. You mark my _ words. Alone, or with you; but no crowd, You Texas people believe in crowds.” son was touched in a sensitive spot at lenge to show who was the bravest of the two, and the Teck less Texan never-evaded a chal- lenge of that sort. “Stay back, boys,” he said, to the others, waving his hand to them. Then he set spurs to bis horse, and followed Berkeley, to whom he said, as he came up: “If youw.want to go in and get killed, Cap, it's your own lookout, not mine; but no man shall say Jack Tomlinson was so fond of his life that he went back on a friend. I’m with ye, all the _ time,” The one virtue ¢. the oygeey pookiess Some, age—shone out as spoke, an erkeley, who had about the same amount of good in his "com- _ position, nodded as he observed: “You're the right sort, after “all, Tomlinson, Come on, If there’s any trouble, we shall have to make the best fight we know_how; but I don’t believe there will be any. I’m going to ask for the ladies,” bossy So saying,-be deliberately rode up to the house, and saw, as shan as he got there, the ad- vice of Tomlinson had been sound, The front yard of the ranch was empty, as it bad been be- fore, but there Were six or seven cowboys, who had just ridden in from the range, outside the place, looking as if they had come back on pur- se. to have a fight; for. they had their bands them, ‘‘I afore my pe and if we don’t put to the house afore those fe going to be music. They’ve found out that the ull range is shut up, and, they’re jest a-goin’ agate and wave it defiantly at the cowboys, as - THE FREE FIGHT) © - \ ‘THERE is cg a. Texas coWboy . y admires _ more than and when the men of the Col- lingsworth Ranch heard the defiance of the Englishman, it was.a direct challenge to them to show fair play, «. 2 “They came on, the same as ever, with their : vistld oat. ) t thoy-did not fire, for they kn: knew DDI PETER OPE UE ae eS TIS Ce SE | as she said: vo Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. that the others would not begin the action, be- ing the weakest in numbers.. Shorty, who headed the gang, cried out: ‘* Ye sha’n’t say we wouldn’p fight ye squar’ stranger. Bring on ’er champion. ere thé boys to drill the holes in him.” Tomlinson rode out at this challenge, crying: ‘‘Y’m the’man for you, sir. Man to man, and no jumpin’ three to one.” ** Good for you!” shouted back the chivalrous Shorty. ‘I’m the man fur you, Tomlinson. Git back, boys, and give us a ring.” The other cowboys, at the word, checked their horses, watching keenly to see that no un- fair advantage was taken by Tomlinson, while a did not use their own superiority in num- rs. It was an eminently Texan spectacle, to see the two men ride at each other, singly, while the Englishmany on one side, and the cowboys, on the other, looked on, in the grimly indiffer- ent fashion that comes of indisposition tointer- | fere in a/fair fight. Tomlinson and Shdfty were about a hundred yards apart, and made their preparations for the fight with characteristic coolness. They were few and*simple, consisting in put- ting spurs to their horses, and riding off diagon- ally, so’as to circle round each other, to the left, as if they were about to engage band to hand. The cowboy reserved his fire, and so did Tom- linson, for neither had any ambition to -miss, and the waver of a hair’s-breadth in aim would make all the difference in the life or death of the other. The ponies cantered steadily and rather slow- ly, for they were used to pistol practice, and knew what was required of them. As they got witbin about twenty yards, Tom- linson raised his pistol, and Shorty did the same, Then came two simultaneous cracks, and both men staggered in their saddles, Shorty uttered a wild yell, and threw up bis arms, when Tomlinson fired a second shot, and dropped the unhappy man from his saddle, stone-dead. . M : Shorty’s bullet. had struck the desperado in the chest, but bad, not disabled him sufficiently to stop him from giving the cowboy the death- stroke. Then the veteran fighter waved his pistol at the other cowboys, and shouted: ‘*Whar’s the next man?” ~ : The taunt was like to have cost him dear, for the other men, maddened at the loss of Shorty, and seeing what fools they had been to throw away the advantage they bad, made a rush for- ward and opened a brisk fire at fired back at them with accurate aim, undis- turbed by the confusion of the melee, in which he was at home and at his best. — Berkeley, who had served in India at one por- tion of his. checkered career, rode in and joined in the fight at once, with the result that, mm less than two minutes, two cowboys were killed, and both of the rash men who had entered the front inclosure of the Collingsworth Ranch were off their horses, wounded and firing from the’ ground, bebind the shelter of their animals, at the assailants, while the party which had been left. behind, seeing the trouble going on, came dashing back without orders, firing as they me, in such a style that the cowboys of the vlingsworth Ranch oe, (ae safety in flight, and left Berkeley and Tomlinson masters of the field, both men bleeding and faint, but. tri- umphant, | ~ h a. hen came a * rag! after the storm, and when Berkeley looke up from the ground, where he “saw the bodies of. two men, he beheld, at tb door of the house, a young lady, very beautifu in face and figure, who was gazing at the scene with an expression as if she was terrified hal to ath. VF The nots gt ain for the first time since he had been in Texas, felt ashamed of himself, as he saw the young lady, and realized what he had done in bis empty bravado. hh Ged Had he been anything else than what he was, he would have BEG ASSy, and let the matter go, but he had so much pride in his own powers of persuasion, in the case of the female sex, that be actually took off his hat, went up the steps, and said to the lady: : . Ab, 1 beg your pardon, I’m sure, for th trouble that these people have put you to; but assure you that it was not my fault, I merely came here to apologize to you young ladies for the accident that bappened from that fence of ours, last night, and your menset on me and my friend bere. I assure you I am most heartily sorry for the whole thing.” , The young lady looked at himin a pas that he did not understand. She shudderedslightly, ase gO away, sir. You have done enough already, without insulting us at our own door.’ rita? bowed low, and was about to retire, rather crestfallen, when he heard the hoofs of a galloping horse, and a young man rode into the inclosure and reined-up at sight of the bodies, with a ery of borror that woulc have been wrung from almost any one at the sight. There were three dead men on the ground, the blood oozing from the wounds in the breast that they had received, Tomlinson was holding on to * « ’ | (earn ta > are ere eee re ee : Tomlinson, who- - “Then be walked up to the front do his horse, in a fainting condition, the courage of the man alone keeping him from dropping on the ground by the rest; and, in the ranks of the des- peradoes who followed Berkeley, were several men, who looked as if they had not escaped: scot-free. * Berkeley himself was bleeding from a wound’ in the head, where the bullet had grazed the teniple; and the blood that streamed down bis face made bim a ghastly object. The whole place looked-as if it had been the scene of a re- cent battle, and no one would have thought that: the occurrence took place in a time of profound: peace, when the law was supposed to besupreme over a large portion of the Union. But the young man who came galloping in, at that moment, was too much accustomed to such sights to be more than momentarily diseoncert- ed. Berkeley had his eye on him, as soon as heen-- tered and called out to him haughtily: ‘* Here, you, sir, what do you want here?’ Tom Field—for it was he—without answering;. got off his horseand went to Tomlinson, to whom he said with a quiet assumption of authority that made the other stare: i “‘You’re burt badly. Get that jacket off at once, I want to ses what's the matter.” Tomlinson, with a faint smile, asked: ‘““Who the blazes‘air you, anyway, stranger? I don’t know you.” ‘‘l’'m a doctor,” was theinstant reply, ‘If you want to die where you are, I’m not going to let. ou. e Then he turned to the men sitting on their horses, close by; and added authoritatively: ‘Some of you get off, and make thi8 man & litter. He has got to be carried out ‘of this. After I have attended to him, T’ll look to you.” e words, ‘‘1’m a doctor,” produced an im- mediate revulsion of feeling in the crowd, which had taken possession of the ranch. Even des- eradoes have their feelings, and they all wanted to be attended to at once. Field waved them all back, as he said: “One at atime: this man is the worst hurt here, and I haveacase in the bouse, too. Do what I told you: get sticks and make a litter.” Then. he went to Tomlinson and helped him off with his fine velvet jacket—for the despe- rado had attired himself, after the manner of bis class when on horseback, in all the finery of” the Mexican vaquero. He paid no attention to the lady in the doorway, though he knew well -it was Diana Collingsworth, and that she was looking at him, all the time. Berkeley stood near him, and regarded the wounded desperado anxiously, for he saw that Tomlinson was badly hurt, and he had depended on him greatly, for the control of the men who had beén engaged as special constables. The young doctor earefully examined the wounded man, and said to Berke- ley: % Your friend is shot througl the right ‘lung, and he needs to be put somewhere in t, or he will go off very quickly, How far off do you live, sir?” iar “About ten miles,” was the rather dismayed reply. ‘‘Look here, doctor, what are his chances?” Field shook his head. ‘‘Tmpossible to say till to-morrow. If he gets over the fever well, he will have a fair chance, He has a good constitution, from the way he stands this, but he is a badly-wounded man, ‘Berkeley turned to the men with him, und gave them a few brief orders. . | w, He went to the doorway again, where the young lady still stood, and asked her: — ‘* Have you any objection to our taking some of the wood in your patch of timber, yonder, to-. make a litter?” 50h cai , The young lady shook her head. “Take what you want,-as long as you go away from bere,” was all she answered. ae The look of batred and contempt which sbe gave him, as she spoke, brought the blood to the cheek of the proud English scamp, who was wont to have a very good opinion of himself under all circumstances. He obeyed her, and Tomlinson was attended to, while doctor looked to man after man of the desperadoes who had come down on the ranch, till they bad all been sent away, and the place was empty. ; where Diana stood like a statue of watebful observa- tion, and said to her: E “T hope your father is better, Miss Collings- worth,” 138 Diana shuddered, as she answered: ‘Better! How can that be, sir? You said that he was to be kept quiet, and here. they have had a fight under his very windows, If L had not come here, and stood in the doorway, they might bave penetrated into the very bouse itself, low could youattend to them, as you did?” ° : ; - Her eyes were glittering with anger, but he | answered, without any sort of hesitation: - _ “You do not understand the code of morals: of a medical man. It is our duty to heal; — not to burt. If my bitterest enemy lay there, — bai pe my bez @ iB help him. If you ease, 1 will go up to your father’s room, NOW, Pe oe it Len waned Sat eae tal mes ae Ls: vei wine
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Old Cross-E ye, the Maverick-Hunter. 11 NN ————__—_____ TE She moved aside for him, as if the touch of a his band would be pollution, with the remark: : “You have a singular code, sir. Had it been my case, I would have let the wretches die as hs they deserved. To be sure, it might have been ! dangerous to refuse.” t Her last words were spoken with an accent of scorn that showed she meant them in the most offensive sense; but he only smiled as he went past her, up to the room where the patient lay on bis bed, his face flushed with fever, his head tossing restlessly to and fro, while the mutter- ing showed that he was not yet entirely sensible of what was going on round him. The young man stepped to the side of the bed, and asked Helen, who was sitting there: “¢ How long bas he been this way ?” as “Since the trouble below began,” she said, in a whisper. “ At first he was puzzled; but, as the firing grew heavy, he got excited, and m began to wander. Do you think he is worse?” i The doctor felt the pulse of the old man, and FY examined him carefully before he answered. Then he said, very gravely: - “Yes, he is worse. He must be kept quiet 1 for tle next day or two, and have the wet g cloths to his bead all the time, What a pity ‘ you have no ice in Texas, There is nothing else to do, but to wait for nature. The. noise bas retarded the cure; but there is no fatal symp- » f . Here the old man opened his eyes, and ex- k claimed, as be heard the Jast words: ““Who'’s there? Who’s there? Is that the g doctor?” j “ Yes, sir,” returned Field, soothingly. ‘“‘ Keep S as quiet. as you can. You have had a fall, and must lie still fora time. That is all,” The old rancher$tared at bim, and asked him, in a vaguely wondering tone: “Who are you? I don’t know you, sir.” “J am the new doctor,” said Field, quietly, with the air of authority that became him so : well when he wasin the sick-chamber. ‘“ You i must lie still, and be as quiet as you can,” Then he turned to the young ladies, and added: ; “He must be left alone in the dark as much a as possible, Don’t talk to him, under any con- : sideration. Come this way, please.” : They followed him, and the sick man, whose brain was still in the dizzy state that follows a shock, ceased to look after them, and went to sleep again. f CHAPTER XII. t HANK, THE NAILER. ey At the time that Berkeley and hig party rode ms from the Collingsworth Ranch, there were two gentlemen approaching that locality, who had been more fortunate than the other ranchers of Satanta county, in that they had escaped injury » from the famous fence that promised te he a bone of such great contention in the county. These gentlemen were “ Limpy » Balstrop, and “Hank, the Nailer,” who being of more sedate “oy rege than the other assistants at the Lame Hog round-up, bad ridden home from the colonel’s ranch at a walk, and were arrested by the fence in time to know what it was, and make an opening therein. Their povies had not beén hurt, Having stop- A® ite ped in time, and yet these were the two men} ; who’ were the maddest of all, when they realized hee that the fence had been put up by the cattle ic company, to bar them out of the range of free rairie, where they bad been accustomed to let heir cattle graze at large, evér since they had been in Satanta county. The size of their claims was not enough to herd all the cattle they.bad, in the shiftless Texan style of grazing, where there was never. any provision made for winter, and where the cattle roamed around as they willed, only re- strained from getting out of sight of the range by the “tee “Limpy ” Balstrop, who had the largest herd of ponies, having tried the experiment of horse- breeding, was especially alarmed at the erection of the fence; for he knew, from the direction it took, that it was meant to cut off the ranchers from the river, on which they depended for the ’ supply of water for their stock. 6 A the water-front was to lose the stock, in the dry summers of western, Texas, and Litpy knew that, as did Hank, the Nailer. They agreed to 8o out to the ‘ Jedge’s” next day, and have a general consultation as to the means to get rid of the obnoxiousfence. When the English overseer rode avey from the ranch of the old maa, they rode up to it. They met Berkeley’s cavalcade on the way, : and watched the appearance of the wounde 3 Gr man with grim satisfaction. They knew that he had been into a fight, and judged that it was on account of the fence. Only the fact that the numbers of the cattle company’s party greatly exceeded the force at their own disposal, prevetted them from at- * tacking them at once; but there were twenty ure -wellarmed men, who were all recognized as old horse-thieves and desperadoes, in the cavalcade that followed the Englishman, and the two friends thought that it would not pay to get into-a fight, till they were sure they were on the winning side. 2 RRMA EPs yy e dei tes. 2; ee and ee Oe we a a coe A Ss ~. - nie tiny OMe When they came up to the house, the first person they saw was the young doctor at the door, taking leave of the ladies; and, at *he sight of the man they had thought buntea out of the county, the ire of Limpy was aroused; and, as soon as the door was shut, and the ladies out of sight, he rode up to Field, and said to bim harshly: ‘* So, young feller, you're hyar again, air ye? Goin’ arter the jedge’s. darters, when ye hain’t got the spunk of a man, to take keer of a woman. Now, look-a-hyar.” As he spoke he put his hand to his bip, and eyed the other spenennt7- “TI give ye jest one day to git out of this caounty fur good. Them gals is fur your bet- ters; d’ye hear? If I. ketch ye raound hyar again, I’}l shoot ye on sight.” Field’s face ‘had paled slightly as he heard the threat, and the rancher noted it instantly, for he added, with a sneer: “Ve darned chicken-livered skunk! if it warn’t that *twould be a disgrace to kill ye now, I sw’ar I’d shoot ye down like I would a coy te. Git!” ut, to the surprise of the rancher and his friend, Field answered: ‘Mr. Balstrop, have I ever injured you?” ' Limpy burst into‘a laugh of ineffable con- empt. er pti ured me! YOU! Why, ye darned slab- sided galoot, if ye was ever to injure me, and I was to hyar on it, J’m darned ef 1 wouldn’t lick ye till ye squealed.” Field kept his calmness, though his face was very pale, as he answered: ‘Tam unarmed. I have never burt you in any manner, and I don’t see why you should try to pick a quarrel with me. I came here by accident, and have been taking care of the judge, who has been burt very seriously by a fall over a wire fence—” . ‘*Limpy burst in on him: ‘What's that? The jedge hurt? What air you doin’ hyar, then?” “T am a doctor,” was the reply; ‘‘ and I have to go where I am sent to help the injured. It is not fair to pick quarrels with me, béecause™L bappened to come here by accident. I put it to yourself, if it is the part of a brave man to go around insulting men who no not want to braw].” ~- So quiet was his air, and so reasonable bis words, that Hank the Nailer, who bad taken no pot in the bullying, nodded his head assenting- y, and remarked: “The boy’s right, cyitig It ain’t the part of o man to be pickin’ on bim all the time, Let m go.” — ; ‘ But Limpy had heard the claim set up by the other, and he retorted: “He says he’s a doctor, and old Horsford ain’t dea ye. There ain’t no need for two doctors in the caounty. He’s got to git aout of it. I’m Horsford’s friend, and Jsay it. The skunk’s got to git aout.” Then the spirit of the young man who had stood so much coarse abuse, woke up at last, and he said to Limpy steadily: “Tf you think to drive me from this place by threats, sir, you are mistaken. I am here to stay, and J am going to do it.” Limpy stared at bim as if a sheep had sud- denly turned on him in anger. He was too muct astonished at first to say a word. When he had recovered bis coolness enough to speak, he roared savagely: “And I tell ye, ye’ve got to git! Dye hyar me, sir?” \ He drew a pistol as he spoke, with the readi- ness of his class, and the young man before him threw open bis coat, and said simply: ** Shoot then, and stamp yourself a coward. Tam unarmed. p The rancber was so much enraged that he was on the point of firing, when Hank, the Nailer, urged his pony between the men with the stern warning: “None of that now, Limpy. You know me. If there’s any shootin’ to be done, J want a hand in it. This gentleman hain’t done nothen to you, and he ain’t armed. Ef ye want to fight him, he’s got to have a fair show.” Limpy put back his pistol sullenly, with the bitter remark: ‘“Gaw)] darn him! that’s what I want; but the darned galoot won’t fight. Lend him a weepon.” ; Hank, the Nailer, at once turned to Field, with the courteous offer: “Look byar, sir, Limpy talks reasonable. T)l lend yer as good a pair of shootin’-irons as ever were handled by a man, and that shows I like ye. It ain’t often J lets a man handle my tools.’ : Field shook his head with the frank admission: “But I have scruples against fighting a duel, and I never fired a pistol in my life, sir.” Hank stared at him for a moment in so much surprise that the éxpression of bis face was ac- tually ludicrous, ‘as he ejaculated: “ Never fired a pistol in your life! Then what in blazes air ye doiw’ in Texas ?” Limpy Seep ad listened to the astound- ing avowal, and burst out into a roar of laugh- b] x 7 ‘Doin’ in Texas!” he roared. ..‘*‘ Why, the darned fool came here to hunt bugs and crickets, I b’lieve.. See hyar, Hank, be ain’t wu’th the powder to blow him to biazes. Let’s git into the haouse. The ladies’]] know what’s the mat- ter with the jedge.” He rode away to the heuse, and Hank the Nailer, who was the quietest rancher of the neighborhood and perhaps the bravest, from the confidence he had in his skill with the pistol, which wasreally very wonderful, stayed bebind to say to Field, with an air of kindly advice that showed he meant it: ““See hyar, sir; Idon’t think you’re a coward, by no means. You've got the stuff in ye some- where, and my advice to ye is to see that it comes out. You say you never fired a pistol? Well, the quicker ye l’arn to do it, tbe better it will be fur ye. A man ain’t, so to say, a man, in Texas, ef he can’t shoot. Whar was you brought up, ef I may ax?” Field could not help a slight smile, as he an- swered: . “T am a Bostonian, sir, by birth.” Hank the Nailer nodded bis head thoughtfully more than once, as he observed: + j “ Waal, naow, I thought thar must be suthin’ that made ye soskeery. I see what it is naow. It’s the blood in ye. [’m different from some folks. I ain’t one of them b’lieves when a man comes from Boston he can’t never be made inter a man, nohow. If you wanter Varn pistol- shootin’, 1 won’t say but what I'mou’t teach ye a little myself. Isw’ar I hate to see the boys a-pickiv’ on ye all the time, and you so quiet and civil-spoken. Whar d’ye live naow?” Field colored, as he replied: ; ‘‘ Away off-on the borders of the Indian Ter- | ritory—too far to accept your kindness. sincerely grateful to you, Mr. Kimble, for you are the only one in the whole’ crowd of these Texans who has treated me as a human being. I hate to quarrel. I would rather be thougbta coward than fight a duel and imbrue my hands in the blood of a feliow-creature. 1 only ask to be let alone, and it is bard that they persist in picking quarrels with me. I thought that m profession would be a protection to me; but it seems not. Good-day to you, sir.” | He was riding away, when Hank called out after him, in a tone of good-humored warn- in g: “T tell ye what it is, sir; you’re too good fur Texas, and that’s what’s the matter. The prin: ciple’s all right, but it won't wash in Texas. sihergt ad you'll find that aout, and then you'll ght. Field turned: round in his saddle, and his face wore a singular expression, as he an- swered: | “Tf ever I do, sir, 1 am afraid I shall go | as far the other way as I have in this. Good- y. Then be galloped off, and Kimble went up to the door of the house, where he found his friend Limpy in close confab with old Chloe, who was retailing the news of the judge’s accident, with variations, and delighted with the way in which Limpy received it. | The excited rancher was swearing rig iit ens at every-sentence, anathematizing the company that bad set the fence and the men who worked | for them, till his friend came up, when he said to the Nailer: 4 “That settles it, Hank. We've got to drive these cusses aout of “the caounty, or theyll drive us. I’m a-going to fetch the boys, and make a fight of it. They kin make aout we've stood al] we’re a-goin’ to stand,” ; Hank Kimble asked for the young ladies, and was informed that they were up-stairs, in the sick-room, and could not be seen, which w. rather discouraging for the two men, who ha ridden twenty miles that day for the express purpose of seeing them. -But as there was no resource but -to obey they went sorrowfully_away from the door, and Hank Kimble observed, as he rode on: “It’s a darned queer thing that gals are so hard to see, aint it, Limpy? They’re allers a-fixin’ up tosee thé men, and never ready when ycu go in the middle of the day. I wish I hada wife. I’m tired of this sort of thing, and ef it don’t change I'm a-goin’ East to fetch mea gal from thar. _Limpy, who bad been buried soniye in thought, since he had been talking to Chloe, burst out all of a sudden, with the exclamation: Jumpin’ Geehoshaphat, and cream-colored corn-cakes! Hank, d’ye know what 1 werea- thinkin’ of?’ , : Peg How-in blazes should I know?” asked ank, ‘* Waal, then, I tell ye what itis. That thar feller as calls hisself a doctor, is a-playin’ it on us. ‘“‘ How so?’ asked Hank, soberly. “It’s my b’lief he ain’t no doctor at all, but only a hoss-thief, or suthin’ of that sort.” Hank turned round in his saddle to stare at the other, as be asked: roe in blazes makes ye say that, pard- | ner : | * Beeause it ain’t nateral fur a man to stayin Texas as long as he has, and not know bow to fight. He’s a-playin’ off, and this doctor racket’s lam |
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% = w ets ? A pe. - eee aT ee 5 a F ’ rd { ." a "20 é a *; ee om 7 - b oe © =i only a blind | trail to throw us off the real thing. If Ie’u’d only ketch him at it, faronst— Han Kimble, it ain’t nateral fur that feller to be arter them gi Is fur nothen. He’s a good-lookin’ feller enough, and he kin talk astreak, and they seen him when they wouldn't see us. I tell ye, thar’s suthin’ in all this, that ain’t reg’lar. Whew he war hyar, afore, he were nothen but a cowboy, without a cent to bless himself with; and now they say he’s a doctor. It’s my ’pinion he’s a hoss-thief.” ' CHAPTER XIIL. TOM FIELD'S STORY. Oup Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter, was sitting at the door of his jacal, away off by the borders of the Indian Territory, in the midst of a solitude as complete as when the first settlers came into the State, though there was not the game amount of unoccupied land as then, His friend had left bim alone to go tv Satans- town, and the old man did not know when he was coming bick, Old Cross Eye was reading from a book, as he sat. The book wasold and thumb-worn, as if it had often been consulted, and the binding was of the brown sheepskin that is only seen on Bibles and old-fashioned schoolbooks nowadays, cloth having displaced the old style, from its cheapness. Jt was a Bible that the old man was reading, as he sat there in the sunset: for he was de- voutly inclined, In the solitude of his distant ranch, the work was so much less than on an open range, from the natural corral he had found there and improved, that he had much time on his hands, but had nothing in the place _ to read save this Bible, and some Latin books that were never opened by bim, for the very good reason that he did not understand the lan- guage, The books themselves belonged to his partner, Tom Field. é That evening was about three days after’ the time when Limpy Balstrop bad declared to Hank the Nailer that the strange young man was a horse-thief, in his opinion; and Old Cross- Eye was getting uneasy about the «bsence of bis young partner, for Tom bad promised to be back that dayand now it was sunset. The ns man had been sent becausethe old man new the ranchers would feel sarge bitter to- ward himself on account of the trick by which he had enticed the herd of Mavericks off the land of the Collingsworth rapes, and they did not know of Tom as being his partner, while the youog man’s face was almost unknown, or, if known, forgotten, in the town itself. ao bad gone there with some money that had been brought by the sale of the surplus stock of the ranch to the chiefs of the Indian country soon after the time when they received their regular annuities, The good terms oh which Tom Field had man- aged to put himself with the Indians at the res- ervation had served them a amo turn, for the . Indians of the territory are by no means poor, and the man who can trade with them, with or a the sanction of the Government, as gas he does not get turned out, is sure to reap large profits. Thesale of their stock had been arranged by Tom the verwday after the Indians had come down and kelped themselves to the bullocks. BIG The old man was muttering to himself, as he sat at the d of the jacal: re “It’s cur’us what a deal of human nater there is in this here book, when ye come to look at it. Them old Jews was just like tae Yanks. These Indians is like the Canaanites; and, by gum, they’re gettin’ b’isted out of the land that used to be theirn, jest about as fast as the Hivites and Jebusites got out of the promised land. They got no business to stay anyhow. We're the Lord’s people, and they’re the heathen. Tom’s got alot of heathen notions about bim; but I must say he did well, in that trade with the mtn We'llhave all the stores we want, if he don’t git jumped on, in Satanstown. Cur’- ous how that boy hates to fight. Reckon be’ll Parn someday. Not that 1m overly fond of tin’ caved. Them poor crooked eyes of mine ain’t the things fur to shoot with, and the less shootin’ there is, the better I like it. But where the dickens kin Tom have gone to? He ought to have been here in the mornin’, and here it is, ’most sundown.” Old Cross-Eye rose and saddled his pony, to take a ride on the prairie and look for bis hock uent partner; but, as be was emerging from the corral, he saw the well-known figure comin over the green grass, and saw that Tom was fol-\ iowed by a string of mules, loaded with pack- i] . 28. *erhe young man was all alote, avd looked tired and worried with his long ride; for he had driven the mules all the way from Satanstown, a distance of fifty miles, straight on end, Old Cross-Eye rode up to him, and greeted m: , “« What’s kep? e, all day, Tommy, boy?” he asked, in the kindly tone he always used to the 7 Pom Field looked gl Tom Field “'m tired to death, J a's as he answered: and eat, b fore Ltalk. W i and I want to rest you excuse me, not think me rude? 7 _— ay, Pa aa Te e a nae nO OT to Be Mere Rielly vag * en tee Was ay on oes Ss eee The old man saw that the younger one was speaking the truth when he said that be was tired out; for the expression of his face showed it. He-took the halter line of the leading mule from the hand of bis partner, and said: “You go to the hut, and eat what ye find there. I got yer grub ready fur ye, whenever yecome, Vl take keer of the mules.” Tom rode away to the but, and found, as Old Cross Eye had said, that he had prepared a meal of corn bread and’venison, on which the younger man appeased his hunger. When Old Cross-Eye came in, a little later, and began to bestow the packages and sacks of the mule-loads in their appropriate places, Tom said to bim: ‘‘Thank you very much, Jake. -I feel better. As soon as you are ready, | will tell you ‘all’ that bas happened since I was away.” The old man made. no answer till he had straightened out matters. When it was all finished, and he had lighted his pipe, he said to Tom: ‘‘Now then, boy, go ahead. What’s hap- pened to ye?” Tom began his story at once: ‘‘In the first place, when I went. down to Satanstown, I was so near the Collingsworth Raneh, that I could not help taking a ride over tbere, to see one or two of my old friends, that bad been herdsmen at the time when 1 was there. You know they treated me very well. It was the ranchers that were down on me, because they saw that I was.treatedas.a buman being by the judge's family. Toere wasShorty Jim Benton, you know, and the rest of the bovs. I was positively fond of) some of them,” Old Cross-Eve listened to bim without offer- ing any remarks, till Tom stopped, as if he ex- peeted the other to say something, when the old man observed in the driest of tones: “Waal, so ye went up there to see Shorty? Didn’t see no one else, reckon; did ye? Tom colored slightly as he answered: “ Well—yes—I did.” ' “T> ought so,” was the dry interjection. Tom, without noticing it, went op: “Yes, it so happened that | went there, at a very strange time, You know that cattle com- pany that we talked about—” “Yes,” interrupted Old Cross-Eye eagerly. ‘‘ Has the trouble begun yet?” “Tt bas. When I went to the ranch, I was nearly getting my horse lamed and myseif burt by a wire-fence, that had been put up there, across the whole line of ranges, between them and the river. It was tnat borrible barbed wire, that bas a point every few inches and the pony nearly run on it, in the dark. i was riding at a walk at the time, or the fall would have been bad. As it was, the horse stopped in time, and I found out wb ak the matter. That very night, there were several accidents from that same wire, and among the rest Judge Collingsworth was bur. The men at the ranch told me of it, and Shorty took a message from me to the young ladies, offering my services to their father.” bia Cross Eye stared at him. ; Yer sarvices? ~Fur what? Ye couldn’t or the old man; could ye?” ‘ Ba seemed to be slightly embarrassed as he ' “ Well, that has never come up in our talks, but then we are neither of us curious men, You did not know that 1 am a graduate of a medi- cal college?” Old Cross-Eye took his pipe from bis mouth, as if he was about to speak, i ended in sbrug- ging bis shoulders, as be remarked: =~ ‘No, I didn’t. Go ahead.” ‘‘ The fact is,” went on Tom, as if he wanted to get it off his mind, ‘‘ you and I are the same sort of men, We mind our own business, and leave ane men to take fhe of Wes own. ; never asked you any questions about your pas hfe; and 708 have respected mine. Jake, it’s time we made a Clean breast.of it to each other. You don’t know why I came to Texas. I'll tell you now, and then you will understand all. I was at college, when trouble overtook my family. I woke up, one morning, to find that I wasa beggar, and my father a suicide. We all thought be was rich, but when his affairs were examined, by the executors of his will, it was found that be bad been hving on credit, and that his debts were more in amount than bis assets. My mother bad died long before that. tring, ma “- age pew, wi va bar coming, _just fifty dollars left, in the comnts cn the had settled up the estate of my father; and I bad no idea what to do. I could not set up as a doctor in my native town, because I had no capital to live on, and I was advised to go West and grow up with the coun- try. I came to Texas, by working my passage on a schooner to Galveston, from the North, and found that the only way I could earn a living, was, to hire out as a cowboy.” | “ And pretty tough ye foung that,” remarked the old man dryly. : “You sa: fraly: I liked it at first, till the people at the Collingsworth Ranch found out that I wasa man of education, and the judge began to make much of me. Then the ranchers began to persecute me, and my life was made a Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. burden. I went away from there, and wan- dered about till I met you. You were the only man in Texas that ever gave me a civil word, except the poor cowboys; and | hired with you, as you know, as a sharer in the profits of. this place. Butall the time, I have bad it in my mind to start as a doctor, some day; and I kept up an acquaintance with Dr. Horsford, at Sa- tanstown, He was just going away to attend the state medical convention when [ got to Sa- tanstown, on this last trip, and I saw him, as he was going. He asked me if I would look after bis patients while be was gone, and I said I would, of course. He wasto psy me. Well, , that was how I came to go to the Collingsworth Ranch, and did my duty there. I believe I saved the life of the judge; and yet—would you believe it?—when; his friends, those ranchers that yb to persecute me, found, I was there, they tried to pick quarrels with me, and insult- ed me in every possible way, so that, on the third day, I bad to leave the case in Horsford’s hands, when he came back, and come. away; with, the satisfaction of knowing that they fancied they had driven me away , as / wey did before. Jake, Jake, what am Ito do? Teannot livein this way forever. My blood boils at the indignities that they have. put upon me; but I cannot become a despetado, like the rest of them. It is against all my early instincts, 1 never killed so much as a deer yet.” ——_—————} “No,” interrupted Old Cross-Eye; ‘‘ ye levve~ me to do all the shootin’, though ye know I ain’t much of a shot, with these eyes of mine, If I badn’t larned all about the places to find the deer, Tom, there’s many the time we’d had to go hungry. Tell ye what it is; ye've got to make achange. A man in Texas can’t get on, witbout be shoots, “You come here the quietest of lambs, but you're a-gettin’ riled at Jast. I ain’t so sorry fur it, boy. You’re a-comin’ to if. You'd make a rip-tearin’ shooter if ye wanted; fur ye. have the eye,and I hain’t, Ye ain’t no weak- lin’, nuther.” : ‘*No,” was the rather proud réply. “TI was called the best general athlete in my class. think T could shoot, if I was to try. But then to kill a man—that is what hurts ® Jake, Mv mission is to save life, not to take Old Cross-Eye curled bis lip, as he retorted: ‘“Ye don’t s’pose that, ‘cause ye go and l’arn to shoot, ye’re sure to kill yer man every time, do ye? Why, I’ve see’d men that thought they e'u’d shoot, come from the East, some place they call Creedmoor, and they warn’t nowbere, here. That kinder shootin’ ain’t what's wanted in Texas, . A man’s got to shoot quick, here, or be don’t get a chance to cock his wee- pin. If you wanter l’arn to shoot, it’s high time ye begun.” e Tem colored deeply, as he said: - “To tell you the truth, I bought a pair of pis- tols at Satanstown. |. CHAPTER XIV. OLD CROSS EYE'S STORY. Wuen Old Cross-Eye heard the words of his el rh he smiled as one well pleased, as he ie said; * . ‘ “I know’d it were a-comin’, boy, and I’m glad it’s come. If I was the man I on’st was I should ay go in and shoot all the men that’s b’en a pic in’ on yei but I ain’t, I ain’t, and I’m thankful Lain’t.% - * Why, whatdo you mean?” asked the other, he saw, from something in the old man’s face, that he wished to be questioned. Old Cross-Eye sighed, as he answered: “Turn about’s fair play, boy; and yon’ve told me your story, without my axin’ ye, Now ye.shail hear mine, and tell me what ye think on it. Tom, much plessed at the idea—for he had long had a curiosity as to what had driven his friend into the wilderness — settled himéelf into an attentive attitude, and Old Cross-Eye Zan: “ You was brought up to college, ye say. I warn’t, I Pburkged at the sooemalion’s: trade, when I wasa boy, and1 might bave b’en there yit, if it badn’t ba’ b’en that I got married.” e a re ‘*T got married ™seemed to have a strange effect on the old mau, as soon as he had uttered them, for be stopped abruptly, asif he half regretted that he had begun the story, and it was nearly a minute before be continued: at Sen! I said I'd tell ye, and a-goin’ to do it. I was married, and thought, like a fool as I were, that a’ man like me, with the hand of God laid on bim from bis birth, could get 4 band- some gal, to love bim true, when sbe bad a chance to do better. Iwas a fool there, boy, and I knowed it when it were too late. Mattie were as pretty as a picter, andI hada nice house in the place where we lived, I thought we was got to be bappy.. and we was at fust. Then come a time, when I seen it warn’t the same witb her,as it had b’en, and the story come to me, that Mattie had had a beau, a ever I axed her. And this beau was a hand: feller, too—a man Of the name of Tomlinson. Ike Sa denly. 4 ae / } f 7 . “What name did you say?” asked Tom, sud- . wre wih ag Ace Pt ala Lc at a a eh a a bn Soh ee Bera wre a Leone dant 3. 5 ===,
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: ; ; | | alah 2 re Sa a SS NOt a ical ete Sa Biel ae a he a a he _ > 5 Rares > ht bl tthe eae eh a bk ee a 2 Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. 13 Old Cross Eye shook his bead, as he an- swered: ‘‘Never mind now, boy. He hada dozen of names, I found out, arter the trouble come; but I knowed him as Tomlinson. He was a drum- mer fora house in New York, anda gambler, and all sorts of bad things; but poor Mattie never knowed it; and it seemed that he made~ love to her on one of his-visits to the town— Mattie used to workin a store afore she married me—and he used to drum the store, to sell some sort of goods. But that’s nuther here nor there. To make a long story short, it seems that he'd romised to marry Mattie some day, and she, ike a fool, had believed bim, till she heard he’d b’en a-makin’ love to a bull lot of other gals. Then she married me, and I never knowed she did it out of spite. Yes, I might have knowed that a man like me could never get a woman’s reallove. ButI wasa foolat that time. The end of the matter was that, this man Tomlinson | come back to the town, about a year arter we | was married; and I don’t know how be did it, but be kinder fascinated poor Mattie, and she— she ran away from me, as | found out, with him.” The old man covered his face with.bis hands as he uttered the Jast words, and shuddered at | say, with em?” bi the memory it called up in his heart, ) Old Cross-Eye nodded silently. Old Cross-Eye shook his head. “Did you know that there was adesperado | ‘ There’s a many men in the world says that of that very name, in this county, and that he | about gals, boy, but it don’t do’em no good. is in the pay of the cattle company?” asked | The gul’s like all the Texas gals: she thinks a Tom, man’s got to shoot, if he’s threatened, and sbe look. without bein’ a coward. I told ye beforé, and ‘‘Do I know that he’s here? No, he ain’t. | I tell ye again, if ye want to stay in Texas ye’ve I’ve heern ofthe man you mean, though I never | got to l’arn to shoot.” Oi" =3 seen him. But he can’t be the same man.” Tom Field rose up, with an air of new. reso “Why nov?” Jution. ‘‘This Tomlinson, as far as 1 kin hear, is a ‘Tl do it, Jake. Ill begin to-morrow morn- young feller, not more’n twenty-five or so. The | ing.” ° man J knowed, was that, when I knowed bim, / / | CHAPTER XV. TOMLINSON’S MISSION. and he must be fifty or more now. Ye furgit | | that’s twenty-two years agonow, boy. A man changes a good deal in twenty two years.” THE HONORABLE GEORGE BERKELEY was ‘* Well, whoever he may be, he’s pretty badly | standing at the door of tue log palace tuat had burt now,” replied Tom; and then he recounted | been raised by the cattle company, Jistening to the way in which he had met Tomlinson,wound- | the reports of several men, who had ridden in ed, before the door of the Collingsworth Ranch, | from the range, and were telling bim what bad aud bow he bad attended to bim, | happened during the night. Old Cross Eye listened, questioned him closely | It was nearly a month after the shooting of | as to the affair, and, when he bad finished, ob- | Tomlinson, and the desperado was already up | served thoughtfully: | and able to sit in a chair, t! ough be had by no ¥ Thatcompany means business, and's come | means recovered his strength. Tomlinson was | tostay. “They had a big muster of men, you | reclining on the broad piszza of the house for the first time since his covvalescence, listening ** Yes, There was a tall, English-looking man | to what was going on. The cattle company Tom sat by him in respectful silence, till the | at the head of them, andwearly thirty men be- | bad stocked their range, and the efforts of the elder resumed: ‘Yes, she ran away from me, and what d’ye think the people said about it? They laughed at me, and | hadn’t a friend in the world to comfort me. Ye see a cross-eyed man ain’t fit to live, in some people’s thoughts, and when be bind him,” : neighboring ranchers to procure a reversal of “Then they’re goin’ to keep the land they | the land-grant that had wrougbt them so much claim, and the ranchers will have to fight ‘em, | trouble, had been in vain. if they want to git to water, Lucky we're out Tbe judge had been to Austin and tried to of the road.of all this quarreli.’, Tom, We | get an injunction against the erection of the ob- hain’t got so much stock as some of ’em, but | noxious fence, that cut them all off from the carries off the prettiest gal in the town, they hate him wuss than p'isen. I saw that I’d have to grin and bear it, if E-couldn’t find Mattie, and get her to come back to me. I sold alll had, and started to find her. I knowed where he come from—that is, the bouse—and I got a friend to get his route from them. I hunted and hunted, till I ran °em down in Missouri, and there I met him, face toface. He knowed me, eyes is a mark that ain’t easy furno man to bide. I bad a pistol, and [’d b’en ready fur him, since ever I’d b’en on the track. I drawed it, | well enough, though he’d never seen me, nn kep’ away from me, ’cause I’m a Maverick- and what was the consequence? I got the wust | words,” of it. Hewas the quickest, and got bis’n out -afore Idid, He holiered me to dropit. I was sich a little feller that he thought hed bully me down, and so he mou’t, if it hadn’t ha’ b’en for Mattie. Isven her; for I come on ’em ata pub- lic garden, where they was a-sittin’ together at atable. I kep’ on a-drawin’, and he waited till I got the weepin a’most cocked, when he let me have it.. Boy, J was the one got it, that time. He knocked me stiff. There I lay, on the ground, afore him that I'd thought to kill, as weak as a baby, and him a-lookin’ down at me, witb a smile on his face as he said: ‘ Don’t you think of tryin’ to git the drop on me, my friend. I come from a place where they shoot on sight, as a regular tojhg.’ Then he turns away, and the p’lice takes us both. I had to be sent to the horspital, and he was tried fur the shootin’, but the jury acquitted him at once ‘cause they said he’d acted in self-defense. I couldn’t blame ’em. J warn’t there, to say nothen, I had got to the end of my money, and couldn’t git a lawyer. They didn’t know what the cause was, and if they bad, it wouldn’t have made no difference. They'd only have ts py at me, like the rest did, When I got well of the hurt he give me, J was the man was put in prison, for Went they called felonious as- sault, I couldn’t deny I’d done it, and I hadn’t no money for lawyers. Tom, the end of it all was that, J was put inter the penitentiary, fur ten Meg fur tryin’ to shoot the man that had destroyed my home. I come outer prison a changed man, sir. bad money, for they worked the convicts on contract, and give ’em the over time in money, so they might have a chance. When [ come out I had three hundred dollars, and I come here to Texas,” f “And what made you come bere, of all places in the world?” asked Tom curiously. “To be alone, boy,” was the gloomy reply. “Td heer’d stories about the prairies, and how a man could live on nothing and save money, if hecome here. When I come bere*it were arter the war, when everything was given up to poli- tics and the Kuklux Klan. They spotted meas a Yank at on’st, and hunted me outer Galveston. I went out inter the western part of the State, and they follered me, till they left me here, and bere I’ve staid, ever since. I bought the claim, when there warn’t a white man in the county, and made my livin’ a-huntin’ Mavericks. Tt don’t take any capital, and the beasts is sold easy to the Injuns, though a man’s allers in doubt whether the darned skunks won’t end in scalpin’ bim fur fun,” : “And have you never thought of going back to civilization?’ asked Tom. Old Cross-Eye shook his head. ‘““Why should I? If lhad all the money in the world, it would only call folks to stare at me, wuss'n they do. Out here. no one knows me, nor what blasted my life. And out bere, if ever I meet that man, I shall be able to square acco with him.” ; (ta “You mean Tomlinson?” what we have'ssafe, It won’t starve to death | water, but had been confronted by a regular or die of thirst, Tom Field, I tell ye what it is: | deed from the State, of all the land claimed by you an’ me, we’re the men that’s got to settle | the company, and had been advised to treat this thing for the rest of ’em.” with the company for the right of way to the ‘* We!” echoed Tom, amazedly, ‘‘ Why, how | water. can that be?’ The ranchers had he]d indignation meetings, “ Because we're the only men that will have | but their indignation was wasted on the com- any water for our stock, and the rest’ll want us | pany, which had its men on the ground, and to help them, You'll see it afore long. They've bad them all armed, The wire fence remained up, and the company would do no more than Hunter, and they’ve looked down on you "cause | offer to give the ranobers a right of way to the river, by erecting gates in the fence, and charg- ing a heavy price tor the privilege, The necessities of the smaller proprietors “But how are we to be drawn in?’ asked compelled them to accede to the terms for the Tom, time; but the feeling that the snatch of the “Don’t know now, but it’s a-comin’. You've | company bad engendered, remained, and grew got to Yarn to shoot, boy, The time’s a-comin’ | more bitter every day. when they wou’t be content with pickin’ on ye; lt was in these circumstances that Berkeley but the a shoot at ye, and either you’ve got to | was receiving the reports of the patrols of the shoot back, or ye’ve got to be snuffed out like a | night. ; darned coyote,” he herds that the company had imported There was @singular light in Tom’s eye, ashe | were all right, but the patrols reported that said: : . they had surprised a number of. men the night “I began to think Iwas a coward, Jake, at | before near the line of the fence, and that the one time; but I have found out different this | bad ridden away when they were spproached, trip.” giving no clew to what were their designs. _ * And how did ye find it, boy?” asked the old | Berkeley questioned them closely, but could man, with an air of some interest. get no further information, | The men had ise Well, Litopy Balstrop pulled on me, and was | no idea what the strange night-riders could going to shoot, while I:was unarmed.” want, : sau hailed ** Yes, and what did ye do?” The Englishman, after a little consideration, ‘Told him to shoot away,and he didn’t do it.” | told them to be ready to have a ride again “Why not?” if that night, and thet be would be with them, ‘* Hank the Nailer interfered.” Then -he dismissed them, and said to Tomlin- ‘‘But what hasthat to do with you bein’ a | son: coward, boy? | ‘: | wonder what the rscan mean?” The convalescent desperado smiled. * Simpl y this,that I didn’t feel a single tremor, Y though | thought be was going to shoot. I dared ‘* Reckon they’re a goin’ to cut the fence, Cap. 7 It’s allers b’en a mystery to me they didn’t do it him to do it.” i afore.” * And be didn’t?” ! “No, I think he -youl4, if Hank had not got “Cut the fence!” echoed Berkeley. ‘ Wh between us at that moment.” if I caught the duffers at that, ’'d give them all ‘* And if be had, where would you have b’en? | they wanted in the way of shooting. If it Boy, it’s time ye was Varnin’ how to shoot, | eomes to that sort of thing, you know two can play at that game.” The next time ye meet that man he'll shoot, . ond Joe have to shoot back, or die in yer Tomes nodded, and sighed as he re- ; marked: } Tom sighed slightly, as he said: “Tvs a darned pity Ican’t be into the fuuss, “ Perhaps that might be the best end for me. | Cap. I'd like it fust rate; but I ain’t strong This life is not worth living, so that a man need | enough to straddle a boss, and sha’n’t be fur cling to it. A poor man has no chance in the world, vowadays. It is all very well out here, but we cannot live here forever.” ~ Old Cross-Eye put out his hand to touch the other, as be said: **'Look here, boy; you and me’s knowed each other long enough to tell what we thinks. You- *ra sweet on one of the jedge’s gals, Which is it? The quiet one or the other?” » Tom colored so deeply that there was no deny- ing the surmise of the old man, these ranchers? _ 5 tem **Never mind which,” he said, in a low tone. Tomlinson considered for awhile, ere he an- ‘*Pve no more chance of getting her now than | swered: xh ; Reckon abaout sixty, if bey you wouldn’t fight; but we two’s the men that’ il | have to settle this thing, and you mark my a month, yet. It’s darned strange bow a little thing like a pistol bullet Jays a man out, when ye put it in the right place, But if the cusses tries to tack the ranch, I b’lieve I e'u’d shoot as well as ever, yet.” said: ‘«Perbaps it may come to that in the end. How many men do ou suppose they have in this county that could be counted on to support Ln T have of going to the moon.” “*T dunno. : ‘“Mebbe ye have and mebbe ye baven’t,” re- | brought every cowboy in the caounty together. bag Old Cross-Eye, quietly, ‘I’ve noticed | But that would take a great deal of trouble. that ye warn’t bappy out here, and I’ve put it | There was a man they called Fiela—the one to that all the time, Why d’yesay ye bain’t no | that doctored me the fust time, He was allers chance? Has anything bappened that was dif- | bein’ picked on by the rest of ’em ‘cause he was ferent to before?” poor. I wonder what’s come of him? He might : “Yes,” said Tom, in a low tone, ‘She saw | be on our side if we was to get at bim right.” | me when those brutes insulted me, and I know | ‘‘ What makes you think so?” asked Berkeley, she must have scorned me, She went out of | who was beginning to see that bis position was the room when I first came in to help her father | by no means a bed ef roses, " —that is, she would have gone, if her sister had | _ ‘‘ Because I beerd from one of the boys that not told her I was there as the assistant of | Deaf Smith and Limpy Balstrop had b’en a- Dr. Horsford, She showed, in every way she | givin’ bim sass no man ougbt to stand the da | could, that she scorned me, I wish had never | of our muss, Cap, and there was sutbin’ in tha seen her, Jake.” cuss,and the way he come iuto the thicl of our . Pas Pat geooat é x Old Cross-Eye turned to him, with a strange | can’t make out how a man kin be peaceable « Berkeley looked at him thoughtfully as he nt at sh ‘* ve, Px Hops & a PRA Ney, sou is Tics tet s
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14 —_—_— =< men, that showed me he warn’t nocoward. I know a man when I see bim, and the boys says how he showed the white feather with Limpy and Deaf Smith, but when J come to size it up, I find it’s only what Limpy and Deaffy says theirselves. I ha’n’t b’en in Texas this ten year, Cap, not to know that one story’s good till the other’s told, Thar was one man in their crowd as I know wouldn’t lie, and only one.” * And who was this paragon of truth?” ‘Hank the Nailer. He’s the only man in the caounty I'd give in to on shootin’ and he kin jest beat the bull hide off any man I ever see’d at that. e were with Deaf Smith that day I h d he don’t say the young feller showed the white feather at all.” _ Berkeley smiled as he asked: , ‘What does he say?” “ He says theyoung feller was unarmed, and they had their pistols; so there warn’t no credit fur them in pickin’ on him,” Berkeley scowled as he observed: “Tt’s a confounded mean way you Texans have of bullying unarmed meni, as if the coun- try was in a state of war all the time, I don’t think there is a really plucky man among your whole crowd,” Tomlinson flushed slightly, as he asked: “What d’ye mean by that, Cap? I didn’t think ye bad much cause to say that, arter the way we stuck by ye in yer musses.” Berkeley explained: “J don’t mean anything personal against you or the rest of the boys; but I do mean this, that you Texans don’t seem to have the pluck that stands up against any odds, for uhe sake of the fight. As long as you have things your own | | | | | bleedin’ again. |a tight Texan born, Tomlinson; but I think I know a thing or two, and I can get on without you, or anybody else.” omlinson bit bis lips; for be did not like the rebuke that was implied, when he had really meant to be good-natured in what he said. ‘“ Waal, Cap, whenever ye want me to go, say the word, and I’m ready, if — let it go till to- morrer. I must have one of the boys with me, though, in case I fall off on the road. I ain’t, so to say, strong yet, Cap, and I might get into a muss with the broncho, that would start tbe I dont reckon it would, ye know; but it might. If ye’d let me have one | of the boys with me, Id like it, sir.” ‘You can take any one you wish, Tomlin- son,” said the English overseer, kindly. ‘ You are an exception to all the Texans | ever met. You have the true pluck that stays when it’s in ge and pever shows the white feather. depend on you more than you are aware.” : Tomlinson flushed with pleasure as he heard the words of praise, for Berkeley was very chary 6f them, and they were all the more appreciated, when he did give utterance to them, “Pi do the best I kin, cap’n,” he said; and with that he went up to his room, walkin steadily and looking like anytbing in the oranin but a man who had been shot through the lungs, a month before, The dry climate and open air life of Texas does wonders in the way of curing gunshot wounds, as the desperado had experienced more than once before, for be bad had wounds—nearly asserious, too—at different times in his wild career, when he had fallen the way it’s all right; but as soon as ibe boot’s on | victim to an enemy’s bullet. the other foot, then you are all ready to run, if you bave a chance.” Tomlinson smiled slightly. The very next morning, accompanied by a friend of ‘bis own persuasion, who rejoiced in the name of *‘ Long Charley ” Seymour, from “ Reckon ye ain’t fur wrong, Cep. We ain’t / his stature, he rode away from the cattle com- like the Britishers, that_come up to the works at Bunker Hiil and New Orleans, and got slaughtered fur their pains, like a passel of darned fools. If we git inter a corner, where there’s no runnin’, then you'll see the Texans fight like a streak; but if there ain’t no use in fightin’, we'll run every time, till we do see a chance, That’s so, Cap.” ’ ** And now the question arises, if we have to fight the whole county, how many men we can count on for our side?’ asked Berkeley, thougbt- fully. ‘‘Thbis Field; can he be got at, do you think?’ * Reckon so. The Collingsworth men knows “Then the sooner we get him the better, if ou think him a good man.” Berkeley called to one of the men who was kept in attendance on the office all the time ready to ride any distance with messages, an see him if he knew a man of the name of eld. ‘* Used ter be a cowboy on the jedge’s ranch,” added Tomlinson, as he lay back in his chair. “If you don’t know where he is, ax the Col- as eee mep.” — The cowboy addressed did not know the name; had rever heard it; but the Collin worth Ranch men were not far away from the line of the cattle company’s fence, anid he went off to find one of them and report. He came back in half an hour, with the news that ‘‘the man had left the Collingsworth Ranch, and the boys thought he bad gone up to Old Cross-Eye’s ranch.” ~ And who the-deuce is Old Cross-Eye?”’ asked Berkeley testily. ‘‘ You have the queer- est ways in Texas. You pee every one some confounded nasty name. I suppose you've got something of the sort for me by this time.” EA gee pen smiled as he lay back in his chair, ““Reckon we bave, Cap. Heerd the boys talkin’ of Captain Jinks the otherday. No idea who they méant, of course; but you kin put two and two together. But about this Old Cross-Eye. I’ve beérd of him afore, though I never seen him. They say he’s a Maverick- Hunters” : “ What’ that?” “A man as hunts. Mavericks fur a livin’, Cap. He has a ranch somewhere up by the Injun eounery and they hate him like p’izen down hyar, If this Field bas j’ined him, there’s two we kin Count on, if we treat ’em right. Tbe ranchers hate ’em both, and we kin make friends of ’em, if we work the racket right.” ; Berkeley looked at his late cbief constable, “thou btfully, saying: “It’s a pity you can’t go there, and see them yourself. You could tell what was the pros- ft. Tomlinson rose to his feet from the chair in which he had been reclining, and said: “Tf ye’d wait a day or two, and let me go easy, 80 as not to git tired aout, I could do it, I reckon, Cap. I ain’t fit fur much hyar, now, and out thar I mou't get better quick, Doctors is all very well; but give me the Injuns, if a man’s sick. They b’lieve in fresh air and lots of it, and they’re right. I’m ready to go to- morrow, Cap, if so be thar’s fio chance of there bein’ a muss in he cosets time.” _ “If there is, J can take care of it,” said y,; rather stiffly, “I may not be a : =F LG hey pte CH eae, does 53 Se ere ae aOR: Nee eel eras si aaa aah + a 2 . ae bets Se papy’s ranch, and took his way toward the borders of the Indian Territory, where Old Cross-Eye was supposed to lives The time was coming when every man that could be mustered on either side would be need- ed, and Tomlinson bad an idea that he would be able to get the two strangers, who lived so far away and in such a dangerous country, that they must necessarily be men who would prove useful in a free fight. He and Long Charley rode slowly allday,and went into camp in the evening; for Tomlinson was not yet up toa long and rapid ride, If he had been in his usual health, he could have done the eighty miles that were supposed to divide thé cattle company’s ranch from that of the Maverick-Hunters, in one day; for the broncho was capable of the feat; but, as it was, a bare thirty was all he could compass, and it was not till noon of the third day after he had left the ranch that he came intoa wild country, and said to Charley: “Reckon we must be gittin’ nigh the placey now, Charley. The boys said it war by a crick that flows inter the Blue Fork, and yonner’s a line of timmer that looks sane like it.” He had, in fact, come very close to the place, and had almost entered the domain _ where roamed the cattle of the Maverick. Hunters, which were all in the corral for safety. As they came near the pl they heard the sound of shots in rapid succession, and Charley began to look to his pistols, while Tomlinson checked his horse, for be felt weak and nervous; but as the shots did not increase in number, but kept at about the same pitch, they rode on, curious to find what the trouble was all about. CHAPTER XVL WILDERNESS’ WELCOME. As the two desperadoes advanced, the sound of shots stopped at intervals, and were renéwed again till Charley said: ‘Sounds as if some feller was a-practicin’; don’t it? Nice quiet place to practice, too.” Tomlinson made no answer, and the two pressed on, till they came to the edge of the motte of timber, which formed one side of Old Cross-Eye’s fortification, when they saw, from the way in which the path bad been cut, that they had come to the entrance of tbe place and would be able to find out the cause of the shoot- ing. fi was not without a little quickening of the pulse that the two men, desper»does as they were, entered the path and advanced toward the jacal of the old Maverick-Hunter. They bad never heen there before, and did not know what was going on behind the screen of woods that surrounded them, except that there was a good deal of firing, and that they had better be careful, ; ; At last they came to the hut, where the two friends lived, and saw that it was empty, while the sound of the shots continued, from some place beyond them. They pushed along the path till they came to the rustic gate, constructed by the ingenuity of Old Cross-Eye, in the side of the wattle-work that made the edge of the motte impervious to Hort agar of the cattle, and saw into the corral tself, They were surprised at the number of cattle. SER Re SO ot PES SESS ee: Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. that were feeding about, and Tomlinson told his companion: “By Jiminy, these fellers have a stake hyar, and no mistake. This ain’t no eaeeriektan. ter’s place, Thar must be more’n two thousand bead in byar. Look how thar crowded.” Ia fact, the cattle were very much crowded for the simple reason that Old Saas had kept in all tbe wilder ones and allowed them to eat up the pasture in the corral, on purpose to get them tamed by the hunger that must come, sooner or later, His success as a Maverick-Hunter had arisen pot so much from bis getting the animals as from bis tact and skill in taming them after he had got them, He had a herd of tame cattle in with them from the first, so tame that they would al- low him and his partner to go among them freely, The wild cattle, whom nothing escaped in the field of their vision, saw this and noted it. Day after day, as the berbage grew less and less plentiful, the cattle that were always there were fed with grass, cut from the wild prairie outside the corral; and the only reason the others did not get the same was that they were too wild and timid to come for it. But, day by day, as they grew more hungry and used to the confinement of the corral, they grew tamer; and by the time that Tomlinson and bis friend came to see them, they were al- most ready.to be turned cut on the range. Tbe wild herd of Mavericks, that had shaken their horns so fiercely at the cowboys when the first burst out of the motte atthe Collingswort round-up, had been changed to a herd of cattle that grazed peacefully within sight of the two men, to whose presence they were accustomed, and actually let them come among them on foot, where half the cattle in Texas would ave stampeded at the mere sight of a man on foot, in the most settled parts of the ae rg But Tomlinson and his friend saw that these cattle were not only tame, but that they were all of very fine breeds. They were not the usual “ Jong-horn,” with his seraggy carcass and long legs, bis rough hide and weapons of offense the principal part of his make-up. _ These were cattle who seemed as if they had se very good blood in them of the imported stock: More than one looked as if he had come of the genuine Durbam strain, especially the bulls; and the cows had calves with them, and grazed quietly about. “That’s good stock,” sajd Long Charley, gravely, as he looked at the herd. ‘* Hope it ain’t all stole.” Tomlinson did not caswer him; for, at that moment, the sound of the shots was heard again, and it came from so close by that they knew tbe marksman was within a hundred yards at the most. There were six shots in rapid succession, and then came a pause of balf a second or so, when the next six came, just as rapidly as before, followed by the voice of a man crying» out; “Well done, Tom! Ef you kin do that, the time, you're fit to shoot fur a man’s ‘e! “I think I can,” replied a second voice. ‘ But I’m out of cartridges now, Jake, Let’s go back to the house.” ‘And a few mivutes later a young man came 5 aight, round the edge of the path, dressed in the buckskin suit of a plainsman, and carrying dangling in his hands a pair ef-long navy re- volvers. He was whistling as he came, and did not see the two visitors till he was almost on them, when be started slightly, but a moment later came forward to them, saying: ‘Gentlemen, you are welcome, I bope you have not ridden far to-day, for we have noth- ing but grass to offer your horses. For your- selves, the best we can do is venison; but that is- good, I can assure you.” © , Tomlinson glanced at bim, and his tone was that of a very polite man, as he said: ‘‘T believeeyou are Doctor Field; are you not? You took care of me, a little time ago, when I was nigh gone.” Tom Field glanced back at him, and recognized him at once. His own tone was rather cold as he said: “ Very glad to see you sir, | am sure. Pray walk into the cabin,’ He Jed the way into the jacal, and the two travelers dismounted and turned their horses into the prairie, outside the motte, with their trail-ropes dangling, so that they could be caught easily. Then they walked into the jacal, and found their young hosé bad set outa dinner fit for a king, as far as game was corcerned; for he had not only venison, but wild ducks and birds of several different sorts, some of them made into a pie of huge dimensions, the rest cold-roasted. A little fire bad be n lighted in the jacal, and an old man was squatting over it, attending to the coffee, which was simmering away at a great rate, its savory fumes filling the jacal with its aroma, As the guests came in, the old man looked eer
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fur the stamps, any time ye say. Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. quickly up, and nodded slightly: then turned again to his task, while the young man said courteously: “Now, gentlemen, fall to, as soon as you like. ‘This is Mr. Mitchell, my partner. Mr. Tomlin- gon, your friend’s name is—?” “Charley Seymour. Folks call me Charley, ‘mostly,” said that individual bimself, as be curl- ed his long limbs under him; for there was no table, and the sitting accommodations were con- fined to the skulls of cattle. ‘ By Jiminy, stran- ger. I tell ye what it is, You're jest a rip-tearer ‘at a dinner on the perarie. There’s only one thing I don’t see, and that’s the real stuff to take away the chills.” Yom Field smiled as he answered: hd se you mean the whisky. I am sorry we have none in the hut. My friend and LT are what they call temperance * me and we don’t indulge in whisky at ail. e find that we get on, just as well, without it.” ‘Tomlinson nodded his Head gravely, as he ob- ‘served: “Dunno but what ye’re right, Doc. It’s bad for the narves, I’ve see’d the time when it knocked my hand all to blazes, when I wanted ‘to do my prettiest at a match. A cold water man keeps the same all the time. You're better without it, Charley.” Long Charley sighed deeply as he took the coffee-pot and drank a long draught. ‘1 s’pose it’s all right,” be said,as be put it down; “but it ain’t the real fire-water stuff that burns ye all the way.” Then he set to work at his dinner with an ap- | petitethat his ride had sharpened, and when the meal was over the old man, who had main- ‘tained a stolid silence all the time, suddenly said to Tomlinson, at whom he had been glanc- ing in a strange way several times during the meal: “ ‘‘Excuse me, stranger; but whar was you raised?” Tomlinson looked at bim as if he hardly un- derstood, and Old Cross-Eye continued: “No offense; but you’re as like a man I on'st ‘knew, as you can stare; and mebbe you know- ~ed bim?” : ‘“ What was his name?” asked Tomlinson, “His name were Tomlinson, and he came from New York,” said Old Cross-Eye, with a certain tightening of the lips that showed how the memory affected him. Tom Field glanced at him quickly, but the old man showed no further sign of emotion, and Tomlinson said, witb some surprise: “ Reckon that must have been my father, sir. That was whar he come frum; but he’s b’en dead these ten year.” ‘* And your mother?” asked the old man ina Jower tone,’ ** Excuse me, sir, but what was ther Christian name? I have a reason in axin’— _you’ll excuse an old man’s curiosity.” The gambler smiled, for he was a good-natur- ed fellow at bottom, and he saw in the old re- -cluse only a queer old man, who had the crook- -edest eyes he bad ever seen in a head. ‘Her name wes Martha,” he answered—“ at Jeast father allers called her Mattie. But she died afore he did. [I’m what they call a lonely -erphan, gentlemen, and I’ve took keer of myself ever since | was knee high to a ’skeeter.” Old Cross-Eye had watched bim eagerly as ‘be spoke, and when be bad finished theold man heaved a slight sigh, as he said: “Thankee, sir, That’s what I wanted te . Lp bs a hen be subsided into silence again, and th gambler turned to Field, to say: : f ‘““We beard you shootin’ as we came up. Practicin’, I suppose. Air you much on the sboot? Field smiled. “A month ago I had never fired a pistol; but I took it into my head that, if other men could do it, Icould. What do you say to a lit- tle match?” - Long Charley almost bounded from his seat, -as he ejaculated: 4 “Stranger, that’s my best holt. I'll shoot ye 1 And as fur Jack, bere, if be ain’t shook too much fur his work, he kin jest give me p’ints and discount me at if.” z Old Cross Eye said quietly: ss ** How many balls can you put into the samo hole, stranger. ef it aiu’t a oncivil question?” Long Charley smiled, as be answered: “ Depends on the size of the hole stranger, and the distance, What do you fire at, hyar?” Tom Field rose, “Come and see,” was all he said, and he led the way to the corral, where the cattle were ‘mostly lying down in the grass, in the heat of the afternoon, chewing the cud, Fix Tomlinson and bis friend, full of interest, fol- lowed, and came to the place whence bad come the firing which they bad heard when they first came in, A large live oak stood by itself at a little dis- tance from the edge of the corral, and on it a ‘space of about three feet square bad been blazed, with an ax, so as to make a white panel. In the midst of this panel a long pps bad been driven into the tree, and a dark blotch ap- speared all round the base of the spike. eS er ae ee et eS SS ee eee SN FI os ag a ee | Tom led the way up to the tree, and showed them that the dark blotch was the effect of a number of bullets that had been splintered on the summit of the spike, the fragments of which had made the marks on the tree. The circum- ference of the blotch was about two inches, and there was not a single well-defined hole in the whole space. “There,” said Tom quietly. ‘‘I don’t call myself much of a shot, yet; but 1 hope to be- come 80, in time, You, I presume, Mr. Tom- linson, can beat that all to pieces; for you are | famous, all over Texas, as the best quick shot in the State. All I profess to do is to bold the | pistol straight, and bit the same place every time, You see, if the ball misses the bead of the spike, there must be a hole in the wood, I try Si to meke one, These are what I shoot with, He showed the big revolvers that they had seen him carrying into the jacal. They were of the ordinary pattern of Colt’s patent, and carried a large bullet in a cartridge. Tomlinson looked at the tree in silence for some time, before he said anything, and then he usked: “Did you make that shooting, as fast as you could pull the triggers, sir?” ‘Oh, certainly,” answered Tom. ‘‘It is quick cover that I am trying to get at.” CHAPTER XVII. / THE SHOOTING- MATCH. TOMLINSON listened to what be hud said, and answered him with great gravity: If you can do that for money, sir, you can beat half the men in Texas, and have very little to do to beat the other half.” ‘Tf Tecan doit for money? You mean on a bet? [ am sorry tu say I don’t bet, sir,” respond- ed Tom, civilly, Tomlinson sbook his head. “Tain’t no test to shoot all alone like this. Tho real test is when ye’ve got yer money on it. Look hyar. Vil bet ye a hundred dollars, if ye’ve got it, ye can’t do that, afore my face, and me lookin’ on.” As he _ the desperado pulled out a bag from his belt and showed the gleam of gold, the only coin of the Texan, who does not believe in pap er. I dar’ you to cover that,” he said. ‘* Thar’s two hundred dollars in that bag, and if you've got one hundred, [’ll bet this to it, you can’t send twelve shots into that spike, without stop- pin’, or makin’ a hole alongside the sp‘ke.” Tom shook his head. ‘I have told you I don’t bet,” he said. Tomlinson smiled. “You're a deep one, stranger. Well, then, I'll bet ye J kin do it.and you can’t. Is that fa’r? I want to make a bet with ye, anyhow.” ‘ And that is just what you cannot do!” said Tom, with the same smile as before. “ ButI tell you what I can do with 7s you wish.” ‘And what is that?’ asked the gambler, with all the eagerness of his class to get a bet. ‘* We can make a little prize and shoot for it,” the young man suggested. ‘In a moment the gambler had taken from his pocket a very handsome watch, set with dia- monds, with a heavy gold chain. It was just the sort of a thing that a man of bis class puts bis money inté& in time of high water, and sends to bis uncle in time of need, “Thar,” he said. ‘Cover that if _ye dar’. That watch cost five bunner dollars. oy got anything you kin put up that’s as g as peo a prize? If ye have, stranger, trot ber. out, Tom smiled. ‘*T never had such a handsome watch as that in all my life; but I have something that I value asmuch, I will offer to the winner of the match a good horse.” Tomlinson looked round cngerly: ‘Whar is he? What's his breed?” “Only a broncho,”-replied Tom, with a laugh, “but he’s_a paint broncbo, aod as pretty asa picture. If you are so generous as to put up that watch as the prize of the best marksman of three, I can only do my best.” Towlinson put the watch back in bis pocket, as he said, with the driest of sniffs: “‘Thankee for nothen, young feller. I don’t put that watch ag’in’ a paint broncho, 1 kin uy alll want of them, fur fifty dollars, I'll lew up fifty ag’in’ your paint, if he’s a good Oss, Css what'll you oe up? - Long Charley hesitated; for he knew that he was no match for the gambler by his side, and he did not know what the other could do. So he hedged, by offering to put up twenty as bis share, for he bad not the same chance as the rest, and it was not fair for the best shot to take all. So it was arranged that the three prizes were to be distributed as follows: ~ The paint broncho was to be the first prize; the fifty dollars was to go to the secon man; and the third man was to get twenty dol- lars. That settled, the three men unloaded their | istols, changed the cartridges and set to clean- ng the barrels, in preparation for the match. — ‘omlinson showed the regular desperado’ such a good humor that he brought up the sub- 15 arms, all glittering with gold chasing, and ivory butts; Long Charley had a pair of self-cockers, which, while not as “fancy” as those of Tom- linson, had the merit that they were the easiest pulling pair the gambler had ever handled. Field bad only the common pistols he bad bought at Satanstown, with their plain stocks and dingy barrels, that showed frequent usage, from the way in which the blueing bad been worn off. Tbe distance to the spike was measured from a spot, which showed, by the fact of the grass being worn away, that it bad been ma genres | used before. It was just twenty-four yar from the spike. “ Now, young feller, go abead, and show what ye kin do,” said Tomlinson, with something very like a sneer, for he was nettled at the idea that any one could do such shooting as the spike showed. Tom Field bowed and raised bis pistol. ‘ oon —TWO —THREE— FOUR—FIVE— J mL Tbe shots were fired, as rapidly as he could pull the triggers and cock again with one hand, and the whole six shots did not occupy quite as many seconds in their delivery, Every one hit the spike, for they coald see the spattering of the bullets as they were sbat- tered on the head, and scattered all over the white panel of the tree. Tomlinsdn watched the firing with a face that was growing anxious as he looked. This young man, who had only begun to shoot a month be- fore, was making such practice that be felt he could not beat it, and doubted whetber he could equal it, ‘ ‘He raised his own pistol, however, and fired at the spike with such good aim that be never missed the head, and made no hole in the white. But to do it he was obliged to take a little more time, and the delivery of the shots occu- pied nearly ten seconds. ss he turned away from the tree, he said pet- tishly: - **T oughtn’t to be shootin’ at all to-day. I ain’t what I used to be, This confounded wound bas bruk’ up my narves all to pieces, Go ahead, Commer Charley came in with bis self-cockers and fired over bis left elbow, using it as a rest, so that be managed to do the same as the rest, and the white panel round the spike was still un- stained by any bole from a bullet. Tom Field laughed, as he said: “No decision yet, gentlemen. How shall we settle this?” | ‘* Try the wheel and fire business,” said Tom- linson, sharply. ‘‘This stand up and aim ain’t no test. Turn yer_back to the tree and walk away from it to“the scratch; then wheel and fire at the word. That’s what shows wheth- er a man’s got the nerve or not.” “Please show me what you mean,” said Tom, modestly.. Tomlinson marched to the tree; set his back against it, and then marched out again to the spot where be had stood when he shot before. soon as he got there, he wheeled round and fired at the - 2, A little hole appeared by the side of the iron, but it was within half an inch, and he said, as he pointed to it: * Let’s see you beat that, young feller.” **T'm afraid I can’t,” said Tom, modestly. “I never practiced that way.” “Then own up you’re beat and give us the int broncbo,” said Tomlinson, roughly; for e could be as rude as any one if he chose. Tom drew bimself up, as he answered: : *‘ Certainly, I will, when you bave won it, /I we. try, your way of shooting. I never saw it ‘ore. He walked slowly up to the tree, and set his = against it; then wheeled again and came ick. When he finally fired, he hit the tree, but not nay —_ and Tomlinson’s face cleared up, as e said: “ That’s a squar’ beat, young feller. The hole ain’t less n three inches ot 2 from the spike. You’re beat. Come, Charley, let’s see who takes on fust prize, you or me; and who’s nummer three. he put his shot into the tree about an inch and a balf from the spike, and inside the line where Tom Field’s sbot bad pierced the wood. swore roundly that “he could whip the bull skin off any man in Texas, bar Jack Tomlinson, at shootin’.” Tom Field took his defeat with the same quiet calmness that had distinguished bim from the first, and gave the paint broncbo to Tomlinson at once. It turned out to be a very handsome little animal, spotted and speckled like a carriage dog, one of the kind that Mexican hidalgos are so proud of, when they get them, to caracole up and down the Alameda. aoe was a genuine prize, and when he had tried the he was more than satisfied: He was in ‘ Charley tried his luck, with the result that. He was very exultant over his victory, and For Tomlinson, who was a regular dandy, it af?)
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. answered: 16 onely ranch that be had a business proposition to make. ‘“What is it?’ asked Old Cross-Eye, as he ex- changed glances with Field. Tomlinson began at once, . ‘*T come from the cattle company that’s got the big grant, and they’ve bired us*men for special constables, ’eause they think. we kin fight, Waal, the matter is this: What’l: you fellers take to come down and jine forces with us; to be deputy sheriffs, and guard the cattle company’s place from. those ranchers that’s so proud they won’t let no man live if he ain’t | got as much stock as they have, That’s what's the matter,” Old Cross-Eye, with a shrewdness that showed better than anything else the part of the Union | he came from, inquired: - ** And what does the company offer, sir?’ * Hundred dollars a month and found as long | as they keep ye,” was Tomlinson’s reply. hit sel don’t wanter fool ye, boys; but there’s lots of pickin’s besides, The company wants all sorts of places filled, that they’re sure to fill from the men that sarves them best. The work ain’t nothen, and the.only thing is the danger of the ranchers. One of ye, I know, stood a deal of pickin’ on from them, and he won’t, mebbe, be sorry to get squar’ with ’em all. This is the best way in the world. If they wants a muss, the company’s orders is to give ’em all they want. sooner these lummixes finds it aout, the better it will be for us all. Now, boys, what d’ye say?” Tom Field was silent; but Old Cross-Kye ‘Seems to me this offer wants a little time to think over, stranger. Ye see; we're all alone out here, and we’d bave to leave the stock.” “No, ye wouldn’t,” interrupted Tomlinson. “ve got full power to say and do what I please. Ye kin bring daown all the berd you've got, and j’ine them to ourn, or we'll buy every beast ye’ve got, if they’re all as good as them I seen in the corral. Ye kin touch the boodle, right off, for all ye bave, and get good pay be- he company comes to stay, and the | sides. Ain’t that a squar’ offer?” Old GCross-Eve wavered, ** Yo’d take all the stock we got?” Sart’in,” said Tomlivson, stoutly. ‘* At how much? asked the old man keenly. ‘““At market price for beef on the buff,” re- | turned th gambler readily. ) Old Cross-Eye brought down his hand with a | loud slap on his knee. | “T take the offer. Bring mea letter from a | man who'll stand good fur it; and we'll come when you want us.” Tom Field seemed about to say something, but the old man checked him with a look, and he subsided, while Tomlinson asked: ‘¢ What kinder letter d’y@want?” ‘From yer bead man, whoever he is,” was the reply. “I ain’t wantin’ to be fooled, ye know, stranger. This ranch and them cattle b’long to me, aud this young man’s only my pardner, He don’t know nothen about biz. You go and bring me the stamps for them, and it’ll be all right. They wouldn’t be out of place on any range. I found’em wild, Mavericks, and I’ve ot’ém tamed down, so ye kin milk the cows, hat more @’ye want? I'll sell, but I wanter a of his visit, and told the two men in the! Ye ain’t up to the tricks of these Texas des- A yet, Tom, and ye won't be till ye’ve ad a deal more practice. I'm up to all their dodges, ’cause I knows ’em all, from bein’ in the penitentiary, boy. Ye may thank yer. stars I was there, now; for it’s b’en wuth many a day to your life,” ‘om was surprised at the words of the old man. ‘‘Are you sure of what you are sayfng?” he asked, “So sure that I’'d got my eye on both on ’em, | and I was a-lyin’ down bebind the chaparral, with my old carbine trained on ’em both,” said O'd Cross-Eye, in bis cool way. ‘‘ My eyesain’t as fine as some men’s, but 1 kin see to draw a bead on a man, at thirty yards or so, with a rest, and they didn’t know that. Tom, boy, ye’ve got to keep yer eyes skinned in Texas, Ye don’t know half the devilish tricks these des- peradoes is up to. I’m darned sorry they found us out, I. thought we'd be left alone out here. We don’t interfere with nobody, and there ain’t no reason why nobody should interfere with us.’ ‘“What are you going todo, then? Do you think they will come back bere?” ‘Not alone, Tom. They know too much fur that, When next they come, it’ll be with a gang, that they think is enough to make us come, whether we will or not, They don’t in- tend to pay us fur our cattle at all; but to kinder press us into the sarvice, and let us whistle fur our pay, onless we take their terms,” “ Their terms? What will those be then?” ‘It’s my opinion that they want our cattle, because they think they’re a good lot, and they'll make some excuse to save them from sending the money. They want to get. our cattle on their range, and then lay. claim to them.” Old Cross-Eye,.the Maverick-Hunter. “Lay claim to them!” echoed Tom, astonisb- | ed. ‘Why, we got them fairly. can they bave?” Old Cross-Eye laid his band on tbe other’s sboulder, “We've got the herd, Tom, and they’re ous’t, and they'll claim that they ran away from their ranch. It’s a game to get us into their power, and we've got to get out of it, the best way we know bow.” ‘ ‘*And bow shall we do it?’ asked Tom, who looked considerably crestfallen at the words of | the old man, which were spoken with an accent of conviction, -'Tom, boy, we’ve got to move from hére, or take a fight for our property,” said Old Cross- Eye slowly. ‘I seen it, the moment tbat Tomlinson came into the bouse, I knowed his face well, Tom, he’s the son of the man ruined me, and as like bim as he kin stare, I c’u’d ha’ sworn it was the man hisself, when I seen him, by the fire. The same face; the same ey+s; the same air as if he thought, himself the best man in the world; and, from what I c’u’d see of him, pes just as bad a man as his father was, afore nim He come here for mischief, and he’s got to be killed, or we won’t never have no peace again. Tom Field Jooked thoughtfully at the pistols with which he had been fracticing, and ob- see the money, or the man that’s goiu’ to pay it, | served afore we stirs out of this.” Tomlinson rose as if be was much pleased with the result of the interview and said: ““That’s no more’n reasonable. 1'll see ye get the terms ye want. We'll start back at once, 3 CHAPTER XVIII. , THK NIGHT ATTACK, gs two visitors had gone and quiet reigned ovér the ranch of the Maverick-Hunters again. Tomlinson and Long Charley had gone away with bere eof returning in three days, a the furthest, if the wounded gambler was able to ride so fast; and it was understood that, when he came back, he would be provided with funds to pay for the herd, on the sole condition that the two men would accompany him to the eattle company’s ranch. ‘hen the two gamblers had gone, Field asked his partner, in some surprise: ‘“What made you promise to go with them, when I am sure that your sympatby is with the ranchers of the county. Tbese land-grabbers “— not te be supported by us, of all men.” ld Cross-Eye nodded his head wisely. “Tom, boy, I were born afore you was, and I’ve see’d a heap more of the world than you have. S’pose we’d told ae fellers that we wouldn’t come; what would they have done?’ **Gone away, of course.” “ Not a bit of it, They come here, sp’ilin’ fur a chance to fight, if they was refused, and they’d _ ha’ plugged you, sure as fate, and me, too,” ~ Tom Field shook his bead rather proudly. “ Not new, Jake, You forget that Jcan shoot, as well as they can, nearly.” * Ay, ay, that’s jest it, boy—nearly, but not quite. 1 seen tbe hull match, and I seen, when zeieallcit in crs $0 ane hig ot it all in to shoot ye down from ind, without givin’ ye » ehenge to yore) ed: ; “If I thought that, ’'d shoot him down on sight, when J met him, the nextetime.” ‘It may come to that, boy; but there’s some- thing to be done fust. I ain’t so sorry, now, that. ye made friends with the Injuns, Tom, They may be the ones of us.” Tom started, as if the idea had come to him the first time. “‘The Indians? Of course. Why did we not think of them before? We can depend on them, ary time.” “ unno about that, boy, but we kin make a show with them, at all events, 2 don’t depend on Injuns mostly; but they’re better than nothen. Kin you get—say twenty or thirty of ’em-—-to come here and be on hand, about the time the other fellers comes?” “ 2S gy M I can. Tl get Wild Cat and all Be ban They shall come, whenever we want em. ; “Then, the quicker ye go arter them and get them, the better, boy; for it’s my opinion they’ll he wanted, afore the three days is up. That Long Charley Sevmour, he kin ride to the ranch to-night, if be wants, and briug back the others, afore to-morrow night, Get yer friends, as quick as ye kin.” om Field rose and went to the corral to ge bis horse, remarking as he went: a ‘*T cen reach the place to-night, or before the dawn has come fairly iv. But I shall not be back before sunset to-morrow, Jake.” Old Cross Eye followed him and saw to the saddling of the horse, and the taking, by the rider, of a svfficient supply of provisions to last hivn till he came back, and then the old tan turned to the solitary hut where he had lived so many pees: and sighed slightly, as be said to himself: ‘Waal, it’s all over now. The time has come, and it’s time way.” f What claim | | branded; but they know they was all Mavericks | | into the but, the old man was out of the * f The fact was, he had noticed something that escaped the eyes of Tom, young and sbarp as. they were, Perhaps it was because his own vision was: defective in some respects, that his watcbful- ness was the more intense, for be never allowed a thing to pass him, if it came within the ken of bis crooked eyes. They eould not seeas far as many other men’s eyes, but they had the brain of an experienced man behind them. When the two gamblers went away, he had noticed that they said very little, till they bad got out of hearing of their hosts, when they en- gaged in very earnest talk, and as they went: from the corral, turned frequently to look at: the cattle, which were feeding there, Old Cross-Eye, whose nature, originally trust- ing, had become morbidly suspicious from the injustice and cruelty bé bad suffered, immedi- ately jumped to the conclusion that the two men meant treachery of some sort, and natur- ally connected.it with the stealing of the cattle. He knew that his position, up at the edge of the Indian country, was one which exposed him to the constant reproach of consorting with In- dians, the worst charge that can he brought against a man, out in the Western Territories, where Indians are looked on as fiends who ought: to be exterminated. He saw that the sight of the cattle had ex- cited the cupidity of the men who had visited them, and saw also, from the expression of their faces, that they thought of coming back to steal what they could get. Away there, where no one ever came, except Indians, a murder would be the easiest thing in the world, and the tracing of the murderers the most difficult. When he sent ‘away Tom Field after-the Indians, be did so with the full expec- tation that the ranch would be attacked that very night. Why then, it may be asked, did the old man send away the young one, and remain behind himself? The answer is hard to make, but might be found io his peculiar make-up, :fter all ve troubles ke had passed through during his life. ‘Batter the old man should go than the young ’un,” he muttered to himself, as he went “I bain’t got long to live any- way, and a few years, more or less, ain’t mueh odds to me. If he comes back to-night, I’ll have the satisfaction of havin’ it out with the son, if I couldn’t get square with the fatber. Ill wait for him, and he shan’t have a chance.” The old man went to the but where he kept a'l his belongings, and drew out from a corner, where it had been lying for many a, year, an old carbine, It was of the Heweypattern,that has since been replaced by the Winchester, and he bad pieked it up at a sale of old material, at Gaiveston, just after the war, with the ammunition, It was a magazine-gun, and carried sixteen shots in the lower barrel, but was liable“to get out of order, from dust and dirt getting into the magazine. . : hen in good state it was as good a wespon as its successor, for close work; and Old Cross- Eye bad bad a good deal of practice with it, in shooting deer, as they came down to drink, and at game of all sorts, before Tom Field came to him and took to shooting. As he had said, he Was a good shot, as far as he could see, with a rest, and relied on his craft to secure bim from surprise, and give bim a chance at his enemies, if they came night, as be expected. 5 -That they would eome, he had settled in bis his mind, and did not go to bed at all, that night, but left the hut and went to lie in wait, in the tangled wood that bordered the place, where he could watch for the coming of the men he expected. s True to his expectation, at about the hour of midnight, when everything was at its quietest, be heard the distant tramp of borses, coming toward the motte, from the prairie without, Had be not been intently on the watch, he could not baye beard them; for the sound was very distant. Nevertheless it served to wake him up instantly; for he bad been nodding at his pest, and immediately he sat up and was all ears, ‘Out of bis pia aba he crept, through the path to the edge of the motte, where existed a side hiding-place, Where be had planned to lie in ambush fo “any one who might come un- awares, The spot was in the edge of the wood, where the trees were closely planted, and the under- brush was thicker than ordinary, From it he could command a view of the cg outside, under the faint starlight, and, efore long, the outlines of horsemen came be- tween him and the dark sky, — They were not the people there were six men, had fancied, for For a while be ners Tom had got back © ck/in the ¥ TRY. a eee
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ys . offered no further resistance, thinking that they Then the men got off their borses, and the first voice said: “Tie the hosses to the trees at the edge of the timmer. Don’t make{no more noise than ye kin help. _ The old cuss sleeps light.” ‘ Old Cross Eye trembled as he heard the voice, for it was that of Tomlinson, the son of' the man who had injured him, so many years ago. ‘Sleeps light?’ he muttered to bimself. ** Yes, you will find he sleéps light enough to give you what your father ought to have bad, years ago,” The old man tried to see the sights of his rifle in the dark, but the intervening branches pre- vented any accuracy of aim, and he had to wait till the men were close to him. | But he bad taken his ambush for that very purpose, and the muzzle of his carbine was not three feet from the path, by which they must all come. ‘ He saw them dismount from their horses and lead them to the trees; not twenty feet away from the place where he Jay bidden, And then came an unexpected difficulty. As the horses were- brought there, they began to snuff and snort, as they scented the old man’s body through the bushes, and the wary despera- does noted the fact at once, with the caution of their life, ; ‘*What’s the matter with the hosses?” asked one man suspiciously. Then they all stood, with their bands on their weapons, staring into the thicket, and watching the actions of the horses, as well as they could, in the darkness. Old Cross Eye drew up bis rifle, and waited silently. CHAPTER XIX. OLD CROSS-EYE SEES STRAIGHT. THE men outside the motte stood ‘there as much as two minuté$, listening, when the voice of Tomlinson was heard again, saying: ‘“Reckon it’s nothin’ but a snake, or su’thin’ 0’ the sort; boys. Go ahead, but don’t make no noise, If they jump out, beTeady to give it to em, Then the men filed into the path leading tothe motte, and thence to the ranch of the Maverick- Hunter, each man. with a pistol, drawn and coekéd, in bis band. Oid Cross-Bye saw the dark figures as they stole past him, not three feet away, headed. by Tomli: son, whom he recognized by bis dress; for the desperado wore a Mexican rig, while the rest bad buckskin garments. He never fired till tbe last man had entered the path, and be was sure that he had six ene- mies to contend with. Then hs suddenly rose up, as the last man went past him, #nd let him have the contents of his carbine in the back, He had taken care to get on the right side of the path leading from the ranch-house, and bad the advantage of his Jeft sboulder to the enemy when he rose, The first man dropped instantly, and the otters wheeled round, not knowing from whence-came the attack; for the first man had been shot dead asa stone, Before they bad recovered from the confusion of the unlooked.- for assault, the old man bad fired a second shot and dropped avovher of his enemies, but: this time the flash of his rifle betrayed him, and the report was drowned in the sound of a regular volley of + no nappa sent at the place where he was standing. The desperadoes came rushing back and fired into the darkness, tearing at the bushes to get into the wood, so as to come to close quarters with the straoger. Old Cross-Eye, who had made his ambush for the very purpose it now filled, was not burt by the first volley, for the reason that bis body was sheltered by the trunk of a sapling, and that another bad been trained tostand by the first, so as to make a perfect shade. He could see them distinctly, as they tore at the saplings and bushes, and saw that his second shot had downed a second man, Then he fired a third, and it was answered by a second volley, when he felt a sbarp pain in the side, and knew that he was hit badly, from the faintness that ensued. Me She His eyes began to fail him, and he fell forward against the trees that he was sheltered by, As he went down, he saw a third man fall, of the assailants, Then he slipped down at the foot of the tree and heard the men calling to each other to “get out of that! There was no chance!” ‘ ; Old Cross-Eye smiled faintly as be heard the cry, and lay back against the tree, while the assailants of the ranch went rushing out of tbe path, and he heard them mounting and riding away, with a baste that showed they bad had enough of the contest in the dark.. They had proved the danger of a night attack, where the enemy is prepsred; for they had fled from one man, who wks badly wounded and could bave were confronted by at least two, and not know- at the departure of Tom Field to seek the Indiavs. . In a few minutes after he had fired his last shot Old Cross-Eye was al) alone, and heard the y T soon?” b e Maverick-Hunter. galloping feet of their horses, as they fled for their lives from the motte, Then the old man seemed to himself to be fall- 17 Tom seized bis band and kissed it reverently,. as he said: “Jake, you have done for me what no other ae - $i ing asleep, for he remembered notbing more till ! man in Texas ever did. You took me in when the light of the sun shone into bis face, and be! I was a pauper, and treated me as a man. heard voices near him. He opened: his heavy eyes, and saw that the sun was up, and that be was at the foot of the sapling be had used for a shelter. he voices he -had. heard were those of Tom Field and some Indians, who had followed bim to the edge of the motte. They were coming from the inside, and had evidently been at the jacal. The tones of Tom’s yoice were full of anxiety, as be called out: ** Jake, Jake, where are you? For God’s sake answer! Toey-nust have killed bim.” Then he heard the voice of Wild Cat, saying in the Indian tongue: ‘‘The brother with the crooked eyes was not here. He has gone into the wood. See the place where he went. He has killed his foes, and they have run away.” Then Old Cross-Eye, unable to speak for weakness, saw the form of an Indian in the th, and the red-man was peering into the ushes. The old man made a motion so as to stir the branches round him, and the quick eye of the Indian noted it. In a quiet way, asif he were not at all astonished, the savage said to the man bebind bim: ‘‘The man is bere, He is hurt, or he would have come out to see us.” Then Old Cross-Eye saw them coming toward him, and in a few minutes more the Indians were by bis side, and bad picked him up, with the skill they use when a comrade is badly burt. They carried him out to the jacal, and there bis young friend Tom, with the tears stream- ing down. his face, knelt beside him and mur- mured: **Ob, Jake—Jake! why did I leave you? If I bad ovly been here, this would not havé bap- ned,” The old man was too faint to say anything, and lay quietly while the young doc’or ex- amined bis wound with great care. When he had finished, Old Cross-Eye smiled at him, and whispered: ‘Gone, ain’t I, boy? Better I should go.”. Tom Field smothered a sob, . He knew the old man was right. The bullet from a pistol had passed through the left lung, very close to the heart, and the long exposure to the night air, which is always chilly inTexas, bad bad the effect of sapping the vital powers, so that there was no hope. Old Cross-Kye bad not many hours to live, The Indians looked at the wounded man with ney stolid calmness of their race, and Wild Cat said: A ‘The man with the crooked eyes has done well, He basslain three. of his enemies. The scalps are bis.” ; he old man_ smiled faintly; but his eyes sought those of Tom Field, as he whispered: ‘Is he dead?” s py understood him, and sadly shook his ead. ; ¢ “The other one, who was here, was killed,” he said, ‘‘but Tomlinson has escaped. Are you sure he was here?” . sett Old Cross:Eye made a sign to be raised up, and when he was more erect he seemed to be easier, for his voice grew stronger, and he said ina low tone: “ He led the party, boy. He came back, as I thought he would. Ee must have met bis friends near by. How did you come back so n “| met Wild Cat out on a hunting-party, and he came with me at once,” said Tom. ‘ We got here at dawn, ond as soon as the chief set eyes on the motte, he said there had been a ght. He showed the tracks of horses at a gal- lop, and he bas sent: some men out after -them. They must have come back on purpose to rob and murder us.” Old Cross-Eye nodded bis head. ‘Ay, ay; that was their game, boy. The temptation was too great, when they saw the herds all alone out here by the Indian coun- try. Now. they’re all yourn, boy, and ye kin e a rich man, if ye wanter. If ever ye meet that Tomlinson, don’t furgit he was he one, shot me.” Tom started. ‘* How do you know? Are you sure?” They was all in a buuch,” said the old man, faintly; ‘‘but the man that fired that shot waited till he saw the flash of my rifle. . It takes a good men to kill another, as he did, in the dark, guessing at the place. It was Tomlinson, or no one.” Tom Field raised his hand to heaven. “If ever I meet the man, I will avenge your death,” he said, solemnly. ‘‘It was a foul and causeless murder, and should be punished.” - Old Cross-Eye faintly answered: “Ye’ll do it. boy. Ye'll do it, I feel it here. I seem to see clearer now than ever I did in all Tom Field, you’ve the makin’s of a ¢, and this night has b ‘ita furgit the old man; will ye?” \ my ue. terror in You w t You’ve had the life of a martyr, and you will win the crown of a martyr.” |. _The old man smiled again. He looked quite bappy as he sat there, propped up by the arms: ee — of the Indians, and looking at the boy be oved, . ‘*?’m a-goin’, Tom,” he said, ‘to the place where they straighten out eyes, and mebbe I'L have a. chance there, where I wouldn’t git-one on ’arth. Boy, you never knowed what it was to have the eyes that all creeters bas denied ye. I’ve had a bard time in this life. No one keered fur me, and I guess I warn’t desarvin’ of it, I’m better out of the way, and you kin have the times I might bave bad if it hadn’t b’en fur the body the Lord give me. Take the cattle, and sell them fur what they’re wuth You oughtn’ter be out here, a common cowboy. Go to the cities, and makea name fur yerself, boy. l’ll see ye, and I’]] be proud of ye, Tom. I never had a son of my own, and p’r’aps it's jest as welk Ididn’t, He mou’t have been cursed as | was, and never got Overit. We sort are better out of the world. But you be my son, Tom. You o and make me proud of ye, boy. 1 must have oved ye, or I wouldn’t have staid back to give ye a chance to live, If you’d b’en bere it’s more’n like you'd ha’ got it imstead of me, boy. There gin’t no stoppin’ bullets; they go where they’re sent. But, Tom, don’t ye fur- git me. When ye seea poor critter that men mocks at, because the Lord bas crooked his eyes, or his back, or his Jegs, don’t jine them as laughs at him. Mebbe bis soul’s as white as any other man’s, and when he gits to the other side of Jordan he'll see God as plain as them that bas the best sight of all.” The length of his speech seemed to have ex- hausted bim, for be lay back and closed his eyes, Wild Cat made a sign to the otber Jndians and they came and stood by the dying man in a reverential attitude; so that be might »ee them when be opened his eyes again. Presently this: happened, and be said: * Wild Cat, I never liked Injurs afore. I thought they was all alike. Now | see it ain’t fair to call’em all the same. There’s good and bad. You might have done what these white men has done. Will ye give me yer hand and say good-by?’ The Indian gravely offered bis hand, and all of bis comrades did the same. The dying man grasped them, one by one, and when it was over, be said to Tom: “ You was right, and 1 was wrong, boy. Injuns is mén and women, the same 6s the rest of us, They have their faults. and we hsve the seme, When I’m gone, there may be some of ‘em, who'll be sorry even for Old Cross- After thet be got very weak and lay beck for some time io a stupor which , gradually deepened, as they laid him down to sleep. é slumbered till about the middle of the afternoon, when he suddenly woke up with his eyes staring round bim, with an expression of terror and pain. ‘He seemed unable to draw his breath, and Tom, who saw that the end was coming, raised him up, till he drew a long, shuddering sigh. Then bis hand, weak and nerveless, sought that of the young man, and he clasped it feint- ly, as be tried to whisper naeeniing . Tom listened, but could hear nothing sensible and the next minute the clasp Joosened, and’ poor old Cross-Eye, the butt of fortune for so. many years, was gone to the place where his defects would be cured, ’ Tom Field noted, with surprise, es the breath left the body, that the eyes, directed inward in the last struggle, hn gana out and looked as natural as those of any man be had ever seen. Death removed the defect on which the ey old men had been so sensitive during bis life, : That evening at sunset the Indians came and helped bury the body, and Tom Field: felt that he was at last alone in the world. CHAPTER XX. LIMPY BALSTROP’S MISTAKE. Livpy BALsTROP wes riding over bis ranch, about three weeks after the settlement of the cattle company with the ranchers,: ty “He looked depressed in spirits, and he felt gloomy enough. His cattle were eating up the grass on his claim and he foresaw that the time was coming when be would have to sell offa part ov bis stock, cr see them starve for the want of sufficient grass. Outside the hated fence that had caused all the trouble, the cattle of the company were frisking about, just as bis own cattle used to. frisk, with an uvlimited pasture and no one to. ~ say them nay. ’ He had found out, when Judge Cellingsworth went to Austin, that the claim of the cattle. aenenty was made so as to include a strip ten. miles wide, all along both sides of / Blue © out. | Fork. They had puta fence on the ide ‘ | this line, berring access to the river, so that x
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18 Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. their cattle enjoyed all the grass in the bottom, ‘while the beasts of the ranchers were confined ‘to the limits of the grants which they bad taken ‘up, when the county was first surveyed, In those days no one bad thought of having his land down by the river-side, because it was there liable to floods, during the mountain freshets, and the grass was not so good as that ‘about balf a mile from the banks. Each rancher had a claim of a square league, at the uniform distance of about balf a mile frofm the stream, and it had been the custom of the herds to come down to the river to drink every evening. Now they came down, the same as they used ‘to do; but the way, instead of being free to all, was down alane, bordered with the hateful wire fence, not more than a hundred feet wide, so that the cattle were crowded as they came, and ‘frequently horned each other, besides treading the watering-places into mire, so that they wore in constant danger of stalling in the deep black mud. Limpy felt particularly blue that day, be- ‘cause he had had an accident, the very night ee by which he had lost several fine bul- ocks. They bad got into a fight at the watering- ‘place and one had gored the other, while the third bad got its eye torn out of its head, by ‘running against the fence, and getting the terri- ble barbed wires into the eyeball. The cattle country bad baught all the land | saddle and head down on the ground, with his in thet part of the company, outside and inside the line of the ‘‘league” ranches, and had fenced it all in, so as to shut the ranchers out from everything but their own land. The land of the company was ample for the support of a hundred thousand head, and they had fifty thousand already, and were constantly buying amore. Limpy could see them, as he rode along by the fence, and hear the lowing of the cows, and the muttering of the bulls, as they paced about in defense of their particular harems, at the approach of some hated rivals. Once Limpy could ride anywhere over the ‘prairie, and ask no man’s leave where he should go. The pastures of nature had been free to all, and no one had tried to arrogate to himself _Aggonetg in anything but the beasts he cared or, and the house he lived iu. Even watering- ‘places were changed at the caprice of the herds, and cattle from several different owners had fed and drunk, side by side, in peace. Now it was different. Limpy had to be guided by the lines of that accursed fence, wherever he went, by day or night. c He could not even take a short-cut, across the . «ountry to see a friend; for the fence was in the way, circling every man’s place, and the way ‘around was the only one left ope, To get from bis owu to the Collingsworth Ranch, he had to go down to the river by his own water- ing-place and ride along the bank till he came ‘to the judge’s claim, where another lane exist- d, by which the Collingsworth stock was taken down to water, every evening. Limpy rode gloomily along, and frequently cursed aloud, in the bitterness of his spirit, as he saw the cowboys of the company—who had been arrayed in a gay sort of unviiorm of the “Mexican cut, with red sombreros, to distinguish ‘them from te ny Bs in the county—riding along, watching the herds, If be had thougbt it prudent, he would have ne and picked a quarrel with one of them, t be knew that such a course of conduct was just what they desired, The swaggering air with which they rode, close to the other side of the fence, whenever he approached it, eyin tim as if they wanted to know what he wan there, was enough to show that; and Limpy, for all that he was a fighter, was not a fool, and -gaw that none of the cowboys were but of sight of each other. Af last he came to the Jane that led to the judge’s ranch, and took his way up toward the house, when he had been anticipated by another cavalier, who was going there before him. The sight of this person, whose tall figure and ‘peculiar-dress would have made him a marked ‘figure anywhere in Texas, caused Limpy to swear violently. - He recognized, in the horse, with its tail cropped, in the brown riding-coat and gra rtrowsers of the rider, and the short hair whic showed under bis little Derby, hat, that the English overseer was before him, actually going to the Collingsworth house, to make’ a call, without.so much as a revolver on, The “cheek” of this proceeding, to Limpy’s ‘ideas, was so great that itvexcited bis ire. Here ~was the head man of the enemy, who had done them all the mischief he had, actually going to -call on the young ladies as if he werea friend of the family. Limpy could hardly believe bis eyés at first; ‘but when he was sure it was the enemy, he rode after bim at a gallop, and as soon as he bad ‘come pear enough to be beard called out: ‘* Hello, you, sir; a word with you.” Berkeley turned round and showed the Texan ss that wore its most haughty expression as ie e $ , 5 . “Sir, Idon’t know you, and what’s more, I don’t ant oo know oot riot citi ¥ >> i a a erp en net pd ast ea a fn a pg en LS ia ly “The blazes you don’t,” sneered the Texan, staring at the Englishman as if he desired nothing more than tostrike him. ‘ You're a sweet-scented duffer, you are, to be comin’ around Texas, from your old rotten country, tak- ing away men’s spelare: where they’ve be’n fur / years, afore you come nigh ’em, . You and me’s met at the right time, stranger. You're a skunk! D’ye hear me thar? A skunk, I say.” ‘* Well,” asked the Englishman, with imper- turbable gravity, ‘‘ have you done, sir?” Limpy was.so much astonished with his cool- ness that he could only ejaculate: ** Done!” ‘*Yes, done was what I said,” returned the other, and as he spoke be rode’ close to the Texan’s horse. ‘‘ Because, if you think I am going to notice a fellow like you, you are mis- taken. Do you know what I do with such men when I meet them?” Limpy seeing the other, to all appearance, unarmed, and baving no very high opinion of his fighting abilities, answered with a sneer: ‘*No, and I don’t wanter know.” Berkeley actually laughed at him as he said: “My good friend, you have told the truth. You will not want to know any more than you do, after youJhave got through with me. Get off that horse !” Limpy afterward said that he never knew “how the darned critter did the trick,” but the next minute he found himself tilted out of the horse running away undera lash of the Eng- lishman’s whip. Berkeley had tipped bis foot out of the stirrap by surprise, witb all the more ease that Limpy rode in the Mexican fashion, with a straight leg, and was overbalanced by a man stronger than bimself. The next moment, before he could recover his feet and draw his pistols, which he instinc- tively tried to do, Berkeley was out of his own saddle and on the ground by his side, with a cocked derringer at his head, and the stern order: ‘*None of that, or Tl blow out your brains, by the lord Harry!” The words were coollv spoken; but the eye of the‘English scamp was so diabolical in its piti- less malignity, that Limpy saw be was ‘‘in a hole” and, with all a Texan’s readiness to re- cognize “the drop,” when another man gets it on him, be cried out: “Stranger, I cave. time ” Berkeley put out his left hand, and took pos- session of the rancber’s weapons, before he said another word. Limpy had a very fine pair of revolvers, and the Englishman took them from out his belt, and asked him sternly: ‘* Now then, my friend, have you got a derrin- ger in your sbirt, or not? If you have, I’m going to have it.. You don’t get the drop on me, [ can assure you. I have been in Colorado, as well as Texas.” _Limpy, lying there at the mercy of the other, could only say: ‘* Wisher may die if I have, stranger. Ye’ve got me, this time. I cave. I s’pose ye don’t wanter ke’p the weepins; do ye?” Berkeley rose up and put the pistols into his own pockets, before be said anything more; then he observed: : “Get up, out of that, at once, and go home. If ever I catch you around my path; [ shall give orders to my men to fire at yon Hedres baek to his horse; and Limpy, feel- ing considerably like a dog that had been kicked, got up and went toward his own ani- mal, that had stopped at its master’s fall, as soon as the smart of the whip bad died away, and was cropping the grass not very far off. As he went, the Englishman called out after im: ‘*P1l send those things back to you, to-mor- row; but you'd better treat the man politely, or by Jove, ll come down with all my men, and give you whdt you have been wanting, all this time.” Then he turned bis horse, and Limpy saw him canter away to the house, while the sight of sev- eral men, who, from their red sombreros, were evidently servants of the company, and who were coming down ata gallop to the dividing fence, made the Texan feel decidedly as if he had done a foolish thing. He got his horse, but not before he had gone close to the wire fence, where the animal stop- ped, and on the other side of which were gath- ered three men, who stared at him with no pre- tenss of politeness, and as soon as he had mounted bis horse, greeted bim with a burst of sneering laughter, ‘ Thought he'd get the drop an the captain, didn’t he?” said one man, pointing at int gs ‘ He’s a bu’stin’ old fighter, he is, ain’t be?” said a second, blowing bis nose contemptuously at the mortified rancher. “He's jest fit to carry guts to a b’ar, and that’s all, boys. Gee- reosalem! bow the captain did wallop bim! Come out of that saddle jest as slick as a whis- You’ve got the cake this * tle. Boo!” ! - Limpy answered not e word. He had the | irtue of all Texans—be could hold bis tongue, De een ence ae ee ee ee Se ene ee Cade a Ce Ss ae ne oe Oe ee _ if he saw no chance of taking his own part. He knew the men on the other side of the fence wanted to provoke bim ioto a retort angry enough to justify them in firing at him, and he knew he had no chance to defend himself. He prone in spirit, but if -was all useless, e bad to ride off, with the jeers of the cow- boys in his ears, and the last word was: ** Showed the white featber, didn’t he, Jim?” That taunt was the bardest of all to bear, and the irate Limpy turned round and called out: “The man that says T showed the white feather dassn’t come out and say it again, when I’ve gota weepin. Your boss is one thing; but he aio’t you, by a darned sight! I'll fight any man of your crowd with natur’s weepins, and ye dassn’t take me up—and me lame.” His words were interrupted by the sound of a horse coming at a gallop, and he saw the cowboys at the fence turn to look at the new- comer. What was Limpy’s surprise to see, mounted on a fine paint broncho, with a Mexican saddle glittering with silver nails, and all the bravery of the Texan dandy, a young man whose face seemed familiar. He was dressed in all the finery that is fash- ionable among the “ fancy” men of Texas, who delight in velvet and gold lace. He had shipped the regular Mexican rig, and wore it with dis- tinguished grace. pee gazed and gazed, and at last ejaculat- ed, as be saw who it was: Jumpin’ Jehosdphat! if it ain’t that doctor rie and this time he’s got the best of itt CHAPTER XXI. TWO UNWELCOME VISITORS. Limpy was right. The man whom he had seen going up to the Collingsworth Ranch was none other than Tom Field; whom he thought he bad driven from the county forever by his threats. ; But, as Limpy remarked, Tom had the best of it this time; for he was armed with a pair of very handsome revolvers, and bore a Winches- ter rifle at his saddle, having altogether the look of a native of the soil, who would not hesitate at killing bis man if occasion demanded it. Toe transformation, to the eyes of Limpy, was very amazing, and he could hardly believe t. Had he met Tom before his little adventure with the stalwart Britisher, be might have tried on some of his old tricks; but Limpy was too thoroughly cowed, for the time, to think of fighting any one. ° e felt like a fish out of water without his two revolvers, which he had carried daily ever since he had lived in Satanta county, and with- out which he was nowhere. Still there was something in Limpy which made him hesitate before he actually abandoned the idea with which he had set out on his ride. He bad been going to the judge’s ranch, to callon the master of the place, and he did not like to be cowed out of that, Judging from bis own method of life, he thought that the Englishman would be sure to go about the ecourtry, bragging that be had riven off Limpy Balstrop and disarmed him in sight of a number of people. f the Englishman did not, then the cowboys would be sure to tell the story — bim, Taking all things ber, Limpy, after a little hesitation, turned his borse and rode after the strange horseman and the Englishman; so that it happened there were three men riding to the Collingsworth Ranch at the same time, and that they drew rein almost at the same moment in the door-yard. Berkeley heard the horses coming after him, and turned his head to see who it was, He exhibited no fear, for he had come pre- pared, and as Limpy rode up he noticed that he was followed along the line of the fence by the men who bad been jeering at bim just before. They kept by the line of the fence, and as the judge bad built bis house at one side of his reservation when he first came to Texas, the could do this, and keep within shot of the peop) in the door-yard. Berkeley saw Limpy, and his face darkened as he said to him, barsbly: ‘‘ Look here, you, sir: do you want to pro- voke any more trouble for yourself? I told you to go home.” — r Limpy compressed his lips, as he answered: ““T come to call on the young ladies, and I ain’t goin’ back. I’ve got as much ri ht here as you, and more, too, if it comes to that. You ain’t the king of this country.” Berkeley hesitated for a moment. He did not like to have anotber fight in the very presence of the people that be had come there to con- ciliate,and yet he did not like to go into the bouse, and have this coarse fellow in at the same time. He was used to the obedience of his men, and accustomed to rely on them to puli him through every difficulty. “# After a moment's thought he turned to the fence, then about a bundred yards off, and made ders. a signal to the cowboys waiting there for or-
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That they understood it, was evident from the way in which they obeyed it. Twoof them jumped off their horses at once, and crept through the fence, running toward Limpy, as ‘he sat on bis horse. The men of the judge’s ranch were all out in the range, and Berkeley ‘said to Limpy coldly: “ Now, wy friend, if you are prudent, you “will go back at once, or these fellows will make ou. I can give up a call as well as ycu; but, if I do, it will cost you the most.” Limpy knew what he meant, The cowboys -on foot had their long quirts in their hands, and were cracking them as they came, with the evident design of flogging him off his horse, which they could do with ease, as he was unarmed. With a bitter curse, he said: “All right this time, stranger. It’s your ‘trick; but the next time we meet, you'll besorry for this.” = Berkeley smiled contemptuously for his only reply; and the cowboys were coming go close ‘that poor Limpy had to put bis pony to a gal- lop and ride away, leaving his foe in possession of the field. Then the Englishman turned his head to the other man, whom he had never seen but once, and had forgotten. The dress of the stranger puzzled him, and made him think that he had come on a despera- do of some sort, who wanted to see him. So be asked, with a penetrating look: ** Well, my friend, did you want to see me ?” The stranger smiled. * Well, no, or I should have come to your place. I came to call on Judge Collingsworth.” Berkeley heard the words, and something in the tones of the voice told him that the other was no ignorant Texam cowboy, For the first time since he had been in tkat part of the world, be hesitated, and hardly knew what todo. With the coarse men he had accepted as types to deal with, he would have tried the “bounce game” that had been suc- cessful with Limpy; but this man was a gen- tieman in manners and speech, and Berkeley -did not like to play the bully in another man’s ‘place, unless he was quite sure that there was 0 one at the window, listening and looking on. So be put on his most courteous and insinuat- ing air to ask: ‘Ab—I'm sure I beg your pardon; but have I not seen your face before?” * Possibly,” returned Tom, coldly. ‘I re- member yours, sir. But pardon me now. I shave a call to make here, and it is not exactly . ‘the proper thing to be waiting outside,” He turned bis horse to the house, and rode “up, tying it to one of the posts before the door. Berkeley allowed him to go on, and then gave a few words to the men who bad come and were 12 ting orders of some kind from bim. They were off to the fence again, and the Hoglish overseer went to the door, and arrived there, it was opened by old Chloe, who started back at the sight of the stranger, and c out: ‘*De law sakes, honey! isdat you lookin’ so pe wt biard you was done gone dead, Marse Tom Field smiled as be answered: ‘* Pm all right, auntie, Please tell the pee | Jadies and the judge that I’ve come, and woul dike to see them.” Pp os bg to close the door fae! me dan ‘tall figure of the lishman appea ore her, aud Berkeley added: ‘** Ah, yes, and would you be so good as to ‘take my card to the judge also? I havea little mos ben © men were admitted into the house, and ushered into the large cool parlor, wwhere the white Indian matting, and the piano in the corner, gave an air of civilization to the ~whole chamber, very rare in the back counties of Texas. Berkeley, being left alone with the stran- ger, and wanting to know who it —_ be, whom be half-recognized, coughed delicately vand asked: F P ‘* Where in the world is it I saw you last, sir? It seems as if 1 must know you.” Tom Field answered him, in the same cold manner that he had used, from the first minute he bad set eyes on the Englishman; “You saw me, outside this house,” “Indeed, and when?” ““When your men made rufflans of them- selves, and you made a fight in the presence of the ladies. 2 saved the life of one of your men, and I bave only been sorry for it once, which has been ever since. That is all, sir, Iam the doctor who attended the man Tomlinson.” — Berkeley listened, and bis face flushed slight- ly; but he gave no token tbat he was angry; for. at that moment the judge, who had recovere from his fall, by this time, came into the room cand stood looking from one to the other of bis visitors, with the cold and freezing dignity of a man who feels that he bas intruders in bis house. , ‘ His first words were sufficiently forbidding: _ “Well, gentlemen, and to what am I indebted for the bonor of this visit?” _ He looked at Berkeley first; and the Englisb- aman, whose trained impudence was vever at 4° — loss for a word, and wee had Maps ong > im the express purpose of seeing the judge, and es- tablishing himeeit on a familiar ei in the house, answered: ty My dear sir, Iam aware that my presence may not be agreeable—” “You are right, sir; it is not,” was the biunt we A erkeley smiled. “Exactly; but I thought that, if you knew I had come to offer you what I would not offer the rest of these men, ycu might be induced to listen tome. You are not the same, judge. You see, we, who are men of the world, can understand each other. You are a gentle- man of the old school; a man- of education. You will pardon me for saying that; for, you know, we Englishmen call ourselves judges of what a gentleman is. We are what you call experts on the’subject. Now, judge—” As the wily rascal spoke, be assumed the air of a titled scamp, who wants to wheedle a simple fellow into signing a bill for him, and went on: : ‘**T have come here to make an offer to you; but it must be done in confidence. Can I see you alone?” The judge, who had been taken in by the | flattery of the aristocrat, hesitated and looked toward Tom Field. Then be said to the latter: ‘* And what is your business with me?” Tom bowed as he said: “T can wait, till you have got through with that gentleman, sir. [t concerns a sale. have come to make you an offer for your ranch,” The judge eyed the young man keenly from head to foot, and then said shortly: “T dont want tosell, sir, There is your an- swer.” The tone was disagreeable, and the glance by which it was accompanied said, plainer than words: ‘**Curse your impudence! How dare you come here?” Tom Field rose with a smile from the chair in which he had been seated. “That is plain, at all events, sir; but I think, if you would listen to what I have to say, you might change your mind, All I ask isa few moments’ talk alone with you,” lt was not in ube nature of the judge, who was a kindly Southerner, to be harsh long to any one; and his only ground of objection to the man before him was the fact that every- body in the county said he was a coward. Therefore he shrugged his shoulders, and re- lied : Pe f course, if you have anything to say pri- vately, Field, Ishall be bappy to hear it; but you bave not the stuff in you to make a rancher out here. Well, wait here till I come back. Captain Berkeley, be good enough to follow me ” T Berkeley obeyed, with a look in bis eye that told of his triumph in ot gr Bae sane e out- works, and the judge led hi m the room, while Field was left alone in the cool parlor. He sat there for a little while, as if he did not want to stir, looking about him in the cool shadows with a wistful gaze. He had been in that room before, when be bad been a cow-boy on the place, and the judge bad spoiled him, on finding out that be was a man of education, It was there that he bad been surprised, one day, by ‘‘Colonel” Callaban, singing at the piano to the accompaniment of Miss Helen, while Diana Collingsworth was listening. The rancher bad come there with the — purpose of popping the question to one of the girls, and the to the intrusive cowboy had so disconce bim that he had forgotten all about bis purpose, and had gone away without its execation, to spread- the news. ts : That had been the beginning of Tom’s perse- cution, and from that moment he had been led the life of a dog, by Callahan and the other jealous ranchers, Amon tbeir own class, they bad been willing to allow fair play, and let the best man win; but when it came to a ‘‘common cowboy,” then the spirit of Satanta County rose in arms, and they vowed they would make it ‘‘too hot to hold bim.” They had done so, to his cost; and | now he had come back to try and win what he had lost, aud fight his way to the girl who thought him a coward, Poor Tom Field had no very pleasant thoughts as he looked.round the room; and when he heard the door open bebind him, it seemed that, when he turned, he would behold another oaemy as he had the last time he had been there, and hear the words: “We'll give ye jest one day to git aout of the caounty, and ef ye’re thar, arter that, you know what'll be the matter with ye.” Ps But this time, when he looked round, the form he saw Was not that of a rancher of the Callahan stripe. Instead of that, the figure of a young lady stood in the doorway, clad in the simple white Gabrielle robe that Diana Collings- worth affected at most times in summer, and the eyes of that yoone wate, were on him as he rhea the girl sald: $2 ahead recogniz- n the gir d, as if she’ not ed him in the darkened saloon: Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. 19 **Chloe told me, sir, that—” Then she stopped, as she saw who it was, and her face flushed deeply, as she added: “‘T beg your pardon, but I did not know you in all that bravery? Is it real?” : Her eyes were dazzled with the splendor of his appearance, so different to what be had been in the days when he wore rough clothes on the ranch, and when everybody imposed on him. Then, too, she saw that be had weapons, and he bed always gone unarmed in the old times, so that no man had had the heart to shoot him. Was it possible—? ' The tone uf bis voice was the only thing that was the same, as he said: “I beg your pardon, Miss Collingsworth. I did not mean to impose my company on you; I know vou have a hearty contempt for me—” She interrupted bim by a gesture of disclaim- er, but he waved it aside, as he said: ‘“*Nay, nay, it is no matter; 1 did not come here to ask you to change it. I know that I am by nature timid, and that I was never cut out fora rancher, Your father has just said as much to me. I hate to quarrel. and there is nothing in the world I love so much as peace. But I have an idea that your friends will listen to reason. They were very angry at me when I was here last because 1 was-only a poor cow- boy. Now, thanks to a legacy left me, I am on an equality with the rest of them. I bayecome here to try if I can stay.” Diana listened to him, and her face changed as she heard him speak, Then she drew herself up to her full bight, and said: “Indeed? And do you really think that money is all that is needed to make a man re- spected in Texas? You will find the difference, sir! Then she turned her head away, and left the room without the slightest ceremony. CHAPTER XXII. A PARTNER DECLINED, THE departure of the young lady was b no means polite, and the visitor felt it. It wa as much as to say that she did not think him worthy of civility, In fact, Diana, when she went out of the room, flew to her sister, who — waiting in the passage, and whispered to er: ** You were wrong, Helen. He has not come back to show he isa man; but just because be has some money. As if J cared for money, when the man’s a coward. He will be driven off again. Oh, sister, why was I such a fool? I can’t help it; but he shall never know it, not if I have to stand <a see him killed before my very face. Ob, Helen, why was | born so?” Sbe spoke in the quick, energetic whisper of one who is in intense emotion and fears to be overheard. The fact was that poor Diana Col- lingsworth, like many another woman before}ber, and many a one who will come after ber, bad been captivated by the fine face and re of the young man in the parlor, and could not, with all her pride, drive him from ber heart, She bad striven —— it and cursed her own weakness; but allio vain. That very morning she had crept into the parlor to see him. Chloe had said that be had come armed “ with a lot of gee and guns,” and the girl thought that he ad actually thrown off bis old timidity, for which she bated him, and was going to bea man among other men. Hie first words bad disappointed her, by show- ing her that he relied on getting into the of the ranchers as an equal, by his money, and not by courage. . At that moment Diana Collingsworth felt thoroughly wretched, and wished she had never seen this handsome, but—in ber estimation— worthless man. yen = heard the voice of ber — at the end 0} o peasege, coming out of his private office, and the ge was saying: — “*Come into the parlor and be introduced to my daughters, captain. I'll get rid of that young man very vans Then they saw the tall figure of the handsome Englishman coming along the passage f the back of the bouse with their father, mai the gitls, by one consent, slipped into the parlor fore the old gentleman could call them, and found Tom Field standing by the piano. —_- To him said Helen at once—for the girl, not bei in love with bim, was quite cool ind: “Mr. Field, I am very glad to see you.” Tom bowed; but before he could ‘sa be was interrupted by the entrance of the judge, who frowned when he saw that the girls were in there, and hurriedly introduced the captain, pee a. to Tom tiy wey “Now, sir, 1 am rea ‘or you. Come ir my office.” * Tom saw the frown but it made no impres- ‘sion on him, for he had come there with a P , and be was omnes carry it out. There was no denying that the captain was a very fine-looking man, and the presenze of such ® man in the parior with the ladies was dis- quieting. The soe Feet bad in mi Af made his the judge, and the guntineth Swas-40lt to: Sian Srl Gatnew getting rid of him as soon as possible, a word ~
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20 Tom followed his host to the room where the judge held business-like talks, and where tbe young man had been many a time in the days when he had been a cowboy on the ranch, Times were changed with him since then. Hé was rich, where be had been poor; but, at the moment when he entered the office, Tom felt that his old position, before the ranchers had begun to persecute bim, was preferable | to the one he occupied that day. The judge did not even. offer him a chair, but took a seat himself and said sharply: ‘*Come, Field, what is it? I have no time to waste, I like you well enough, but I tell you fairly that there is no use for a man like you in Texas. You may h:: ve come to money ; but it will only be a trouble to you here, The best thing for you to do is togo to the Kast and stay there, Men of your temperament are, not fitted for this part of the world,” To. listened to bim respectfully. He had expected some such salutation, as soon as he saw the face of the old man and it did not dis- concert him, as it would have done if he had not been prepared, Before he answered he took a chair and drew it near the table where the old judge sat, at which tbe other stared in a manner that be- tokened a great deal of surprise and some dis- gust,. Then the young man spoke out: ‘1 beg leave to differ with you, judge, I have come back to stay this time, and all the ranch- ers in Satanta county cannot drive me out.” The judge stared at the young man as if pe bad gone crazy of a sudden, and retort- ed: ‘* Why, confound it, man; what you are talking about. These fellows are all fighters, and you are not. Didn’t they drive hase out of the ranch when I was your friend? can do a good deal, but I can’t put pluck into a man if it isn’t there by nature. But that has nothing to do with what you came here for. What did you want tospeak to me about? Tell it quick, for 1am in a burry.” tom Field laid his hand on the table. - **T want to buy a share in your ranch, for cash. 1 have not enough to buy thé whole place; but to purchase a share, and I will guarantee you sball not be the loser. I know the cattle business to the bottom now, IL have been a Maverick-Hunter for more than a year, and J can put you in the way of becoming rich in’ a very short time.” ; The judge laugbed. ‘‘ Now, look bere, Field, I told you I liked you, It is true. You have manners and edu- cation; but that is notenowtgh to make a gentle- man, to my ideas. A man may have all that, and yet be a very poor stick, in Texas, You want to purchase a sharein my ranca, Well, suppose I was to sell it? How long would ithe before the other ranchers would be after you, as they were before, and drive you out? It would be a swindle on you, my poor fellow, You would be sure to come to me before a month, and ask me to buy the share back, at half the money. Tney would make the place a perregh hell to you. Besides, it is quite possible hat 1 may find myself in a party oppo-ed to the otber ranchers and take my life in my hand. What use would pos be to me, under - such circumstances? I could not depend on you in a fight.” ‘3 ; Tom listened quietly, and when the judge had fivisbed, and lay back in his chair smiling, as if be felt sure he had ‘‘stumped” his inter- viewer, he answered: “You may be mistaken as to that, sir. Imay not be quite as helpless as you think in a fight, 1 never bitberto worn weapons, because [ not know how to use them, but you may see that I bave them on to day—” ‘Ob, bah!” the old judge interrupted him, with undoncealed contempt. “ That counts for notbing, Field. I’ve seen many a man who wore a whole arsenal of weapons, and yet he would run like a bare, when he had to use them at targets that fired back athim. It is no use, I tell you. 1 wouldn’t bave you for a partner. I 7 aman.” fom flushed slightly. With all his self-com- mand, he was mortified at the contempt which the judge had for him, e struggled with himself for awhile, and then coked. in a low tone: ‘You say you are to be put into antagovism with the rest of the ranchers. May I ask if the visit of that Englishman has anything todo with it, sir?” , The judge stared at him, and bis face took on its most forbidding look, as he said: ‘Young man, that is nota question for you to ask, or me toanswer. You have no business to pry into my private affairs, I thought you had the manners of a gentleman, but it seems that you have not even that. I might have known it, A man without ony hones has not the foundation to build on, It is time our inter- bie was, eid peat Ces ari rose as he spoke, an 6 young man be- fore him did the same, But ton all fis uncere- wesov dismissal, he was not yet staggered, for - “Tam aware that I had no busivess to ask the - question socially, but as a matter of business, I \ } ’ * ¥ ‘ ou don’t know rave. Fg guess what he has offered, J can bet- er rt. : ‘‘ What do you mean?’ asked the judge, sur- prised, in spite of himself, iuto speaking. £*T mean,” said Tom, steadily, “that there is only one offer be can bave made you that would ee you into antagonism with your neighbors. e must Lave offered tu take your ranch into the company, and pay you in sbares. That | would be the best thing he could. do, for he is / the mauazer and can do what he likes with the profits. ell, sir, I warn you that if you do | this you will be sorry for it. Ihave known what it isto have the whole of a society down on me, and Ido not envy you the experience. In a short time you may find it in your heart to put yourself into my position, and reconsider your opinion that | amacoward, Till then, good-day, sir.” Sosaying, he went out of the office and the judge stared after bim, muttering to himself: ‘* Confouod his impudence! [ve a good mind He did not say what, but followed his guest to the front door, and watched him mount his horse and ride away. , As he went, the sun glittered on the barrel of the Wincbester rifle that Field carried, slung at the back of bis saddle in a sort of holster, and the judge said to himself, aloud: “ By Tors it’s a pity.. He’s a fine-looking fel- Jow enough. Wish he could shoot,” As if to answer his desire, at that moment, he saw Field catch the rifle up from cut of the holster at his side and Jook upward. to the sky. Then came a flash and .report, and the judge looked up to see what the young man was firing at. He saw a dark spot in the sky, and the next mipvute down it came, with a fluttering motion, showing that it was a bird of some sort, shot on the wing. CHAPTER XXIII. : A GOOD SHOT. Down it came, and fell with a heavy thud at the very doorstep of the old rancher, showing him the white and black plumage of the com- mon swallow-tailed bawk—more properly ki'e —of Texas, one of theswiftest of the falconide, tbat always flies at.a very bigb elevation. The shot was remarkable; and the judge heard the sound of men clapping their hands, not far-off, that showed tbe opinion of others on | the subject, Looking, over.in the direction from whence it proceeded, he saw five or six cowboys, with red hats, in the uniform of the cattle company, star- ing from the other side of the fence at the dead bird and the figure of the dandified rider, as be rede slowly away without so much as looking ba ck, The judge picked up the bird, and bis face wore a look of wonder, as he said to him- self: « % ‘By Jove! that.was a splendid shot. Wonder what made him do it?” he whole operation had been that of a man who was certain of his aim, for there was no pottering or long holding. The rider: had not even checked his horse, and had fired almost as soon as the rifle came to his shoulder. As he passed ‘the cowboys by the fence, be threw the weapon across the front of bis saddle with the careless motion of the plainsman, and rode by them without deigning any notice. = They, on their _— were so penetrated with the respect which had been called forth by his performance that they did not salute him with clumsy raillery, as they would have done any of the neighboring ranchers. : They were under instructions from Berkeley to put themselves in the way of quarrels if they saw any chance, and to exercise a wholesome terror all over the county; but they forgot it allin the presence of a man who carried ten shots in one barrel, and bad just showed them that be could put them in the placa he wanted without any difficulty, Had Tom Field meant the shot for a bint— and it is probable that he did—it could not bave n more efficacious, He was permitted to ride away quietly, and the judge picked up the bird and carried it to the house, where he ne % bis davgbters and Berkeley to see what ha been done. é “Would you believe it?’?be said to them. ‘« That poor, spiritless wretch, Field, that we all used to laugh at, has turned out torbe a famous shot, I saw him take this bird on the wing, with no more treuble than I would take to, put a bullet into the side of a barrel at ten paces. Never saw such a shot! Splendid!” ~ b Berkeley looked at the bird and asked, in his drawling English way: : , “Ah, yes; by the by, how far was the bird from him? Hovering, I suppose?” marked Helen Collingsworth warmly, at which her sister gave ber a secret glance of great grati- tude, and Berkeley continued: * Ob—ab—yes—of course—it was all that, you know—very good shot—but, I must say, I sbow it was not a fluke. I’ve known a man Tet A ie Se et “ Hovering or not, it was a spléndid shot,” re- . Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. should like to see the gentleman repeat it, and | make a bull’s-eye for first shot and miss all the rest,” : : Diana Collingsworth shot a glance at him, as. angry as the one at hersister had been grateful, as she said slowly: SOS rea ‘‘] hardly think that remark m good. taste, | till you have bettered the shot, yourself, cap-.. tain.” Berkeley smiled, for he was a rood shot, and | knew it. ; **Oh, certainly, you know, by all means. De- lighted, I am sure, to give you.a little show, any time you may wisb, Miss Diana; but I haven’t a rifle here, and I don’t suppose there are hawks around the house, any time you want them.” Diana, with a malicious glance at the two long revolvers that still stuck out from his side pockets, observed: . ‘ ‘\No, but I’'we known those long, army-size pistols, to carry a bundred yards. Yonder’s an-. other hawk, if you think you cap bit bim.” Berkeley colored slightly. ‘* Ab, I beg your pardon, I’m sure; but I don’t know these things. They are not mine, you. know,” _- ‘*Not yours!” echoed Diana. they, then?” Berkeley smiled. ** Well, to tell you the truth, I got them by #. kind of highway robbery, as you might call it. There was a gentleman who wanted to pick a quarrel with me, coming to your house, and £ had to take these from bim. Of course I don’t. intend to keep them; but really, the man was so cheeky, I couldn’t help it, you know.” He’ told his story so modestly that the girls were struck with it, and Diana asked: “Who was it? Do you know his name?” er eeey handed her the pistols, saying lan- guidly: ° ‘‘] believe the name is on there, I didn’t look.” : And, indeed, the name was there; for poor Limpy, in bis Texan vanity, had not been con-- tent till he bad had a pair of pistols with ivory ea and his name in gold letters on a plate om each, Z The girl had thought that the Englishman had been telling a fib, but the evidence of her eyes: was not to be denied, and be added: ‘* By-the-by, judge, if the gentleman is a friend of yours, he might take the return, fron» one of your men, more kindly than if one of my fellows was to go to his house with them. My menare apt to he very overbearing, I admi’, and itis my policy to be as peaceable as I can consistently with our rights. Wii you be kind enough to. take charge of them, and send them back to bim?” ¢ The judge took the pistols, and -looked af them with a queer expression in his eyes and mouth, Ls oe “What in the world was Limpy Balstrop about, to let you take these from him, cap- tain?’ he asked. ‘‘He has the reputation of being what we calla pretty good man here. Did he pull on you first#” Berkeley smiled scornfully. ‘‘My dear sir, I don’t give men like him « chance, But I don’t care to brag before ladies, It was all a little trick I learned from a ser- geant. Will you take charge of the things?” The judge put them away thoughtfully, say- ng: j 3 Certainly, But it puzzles me.” Then the Englishman set to'work to make himself as agreeable as possible, and, as he was a man who had seen a great deal of the world, and had todo with two unsophisticated country girls, who bad never seen avytbing greater than the city of New Orleans, where they had stopped a few days, on their way to Texas, be had a very good measure of success. _ When he rode away, that evening, Dianw said to her sister: . , “T jike him, Helen, and you’ mever guess what for.” “What?” asked her sister. - Diana’s eyes flashed, ‘* Because be punished that brute of a Limpy Balstrop. But, oh, Helen, if he bad only done it, himself. It was Balstrop that insulted him, the worst, and he so inoffensive. Ob dear, oh dear, why can we not bave all we want in this world?” To which remark, Helen sagely replied: “ Ah, but that’s impossible, you know, Di,” And'tbat night, when Diana Collingsworth went to bed, she was troubled witb all sorts of dreams, in which two men figured prominently. Ove of them was the Englishman,. and the other wes the man whom every one thought a coward, but whora she could not help loving, in. spite of herself. CHAPTER XXIV. THREE DOSES ADMINISTERED. Dear SMITH was riding from his own ranch toward that of Limpy Balstrop, when he met that personage coming toward him, very slow- ly, looking thoughtful and depressed in spirits, Deaf Smith and Limpy were old friende. and t on together very well; for Limpy let Deaffy do all the talking, and never puzzled him to in-- terpret Smith ** Whose are what he said; therefore, when é ¢ t
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ee 9 oe Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. 21 NN ——————————————————————————— ees aw the other, he rode to meet him and saluted with: * Waal, Limpy, and hev ye h’ard the news?” Limpy shook his bead. “Why, they. say that the boys is going to have a indignation meetin’ at Punch Burleson’s, and we’re all invited.” Limpy shrogged his shoulders,.as much as to say that the news was a matter of indifference. ** Yes,” continued Smith. ‘‘I got a message from Punch, to say we was to come thar, and meet at his haouse. I dunno what's a-goin’ on: but the beys is all to be thar, and suthin’s goin’ to be done.” Limpy looked up at him inquiringly, as if to 4 what it was, and Smith understood the ook, ‘“‘T dunno what it is, myself; but theeboys will settle it, Ls’pose. Whby, what in thunder air you a-doih’, out, without your weepins, Limpy? That ain’t prudent, in these times.” Lin py Balstrop colored furiously, but sbrug- ged bis shoulders, as much as to say it was a matter of very small importance, and Deaffy said, in bis most serious manner: “Now, look a-byar, Limpy, this aint the right thing. It’s all very well to bave sand; but it ain’t rigbt to be a darned fool. You ain’t ot no call to be goin’ raound the caounty, ike a darned old sbepberd, fur any man as meets ve to put upon. Seu go right home, and et your weepins. Why, man alive, ye don’t know haow soon ye might want’em, for one of them darned g@loots of the company.” Then, as Limpy, not knowing what to say, hesitated, he added: ‘‘Hyar I were a-comin’ to see you, any haow, and I'll go home with ye. If we meet any one, Tillend ye a weepin’, I’ve got two, thank the Lord.” With this pious thanksgiving, he turned his horse and rode along with Limpy, who bud been trying to frame some sort of excuse in his own mind to account for the loss of his pistols, without too severe a shock to his pride. He had not yet settled it, when they saw a horseman coming toward them from the direction of the Collingsworth Ranch, and Smith, after a long look at the distant figure, exclaimed: . ‘That feller’s a gay one, you bet. See the saddle, and the hull rig of the man. He must be one of the new galoots the ‘company’s got, to comehyar. Say, Limpy, let’s me and you jump’ bien.68 he gits nyar. ‘Take one of ’em Tur a Vv . He handed the other man one of his long pistols, and Limpy accepted it, with an eager- ness that told how he would like an opportunity of retrieving bis reputation. For Limpy bad recognized the distant figure, though Smith bad not; and thought that in ‘Tom Field, whom he bad seen ee the bravery of new arms and velvet jacket, he might finda way to recoup himself from the mortification — Berkeley had made him suffer by his So they rode toward the stranger, who was coming along tbe river-bank, leisurely enough, as if he did not care to hurry. : As they came closer, Smith-recognized in the other faee and figure of the man be had in- sulted so _ y, a few weeks before, and he laughed with the glee of one who thinks be has a sure thing, as he said to Limpy: Phees h 7 if it ain’t that darned cowardly _ ao yao roomy a doctor. We'll take 8 weepins from bim, by gosh. Don’t say a word, boys Keep the old s hid, till we git _clost to bim, and then git the drop on him and jump bia.” Limpy, powise loth to have such a fair oppor- tunity, and not by any means unwilling to use it, let his pistol-h da by his saddle, and rode on, witb his turned toward Deaf Smith, with whom he up a show of con- versation, with the intent’of making the stran- ger think they did not notice him, when, in reality, they intended to surprise bim, as soon as they got close enough to present their pistols and summon him to throw up his hands, Tom Field, on the other d, as he came on, to have no suspicion of what was coming; for he rode On #8 unconcernedly as ever, and they could not see that he took any precautions as be came. " Neither of them noticed that he had a Win- chester rifle lying across his knees on the saddle- bow, for the reason that he kept his borse ob- liquing from before then), toward the river-bank, so as to get them on his left frout, and they, edging away to the same side, as if by chance, to get near bim without exciting bis suspicio: never noticed that the weapon lay there, til tbey were within about a hundred F pene when be peeeeeey threw up his rifle ao mith: “Put ‘up that pistol, sir, or I'll kill your horse.” _ Deaf Smith, astounded at the sudden assump- tion of the offensive by a man whom he had al- ways thought a mere coward, but eee on his own courage, dashed the spurs into the sides of his pony, and threw up his pistol, shout- ‘ ing as be came: Surrender, ye darned Yankee skunk!” Bat, be bad west et.” miscalculation: A sbouted to. Colt’s revolver will carry one hundred end ae | yards, but it does not shoot as strong and well as a rifle at the same distance. He bad not taken \wo jumps when there was a crack and a flash, and down went the pony into the grass, while Deaf Smith went over his head, Then Limpy Balstrop fired at the stranger; and his shot, fired from a strange pistol, missed at the distance used. Then came a second flash, and down went | Limpy’s pony into the dust, while the stranger threw bis rifle to the front of his saddle again, and galloped past. the discomfited ranchers, witbout a word in response to their frantic curses at his behavior. ; Limpy: fired every shot, in his anger, but they were wasted at that distance on a gallop- | ing horse, and Deaf Smith was too muck shak- en up by the fail he bad sustained to think of | firing at anybody or anything. When aed little ekityoish faa over, and the two men found time to look at each other, the stranger was out of range, and two dead ponies lay on the grass by their masters, each with a hole in bis breast just over the heart. Deaf Smith was the first to speak, as hasur- veyed bis animal. “Well Lam darned!” was his emphatic re- mark, _Limpy Balstrop shook his head pathetically, but made no further observation on the subject, except to lay bis hand on Smith’s arm and beckon to him to follow him home. Taey were about a mile from Limpy’s ranch, | and the two discomfited friends bad to fact it all the wer there; a hardship to a Texan that must be felt to be appreciated. hey arrived, tired and bot, sweating freely and parched with thirst, and saw at the gate the borse of their friend Punch Burleson, whom they found in the house sampling Limpy’s whis- ky, and to whom they had to make a clean breast of the whole #ffair, When Punch beard it, be was amazed, for he bad been one of Tom Field’s persecutors in the past, and bad no ivtimation that the stranger ad returned to the country. When he teard what bad happened, he ob- served: ‘“Waal, boys, that shows he’s on the other side, and we bain’t no-need of no more inimies, naow. Icome to see ye both,” Limpy explained... . “‘Deaffy ‘told me abaout it. What's the racket, Punch?’ bi Punch put his bead close to the other, and whispered: . . ‘“What d’ye say to cuttin’ the darned old fence to slithers?” Limpy hastily replied: “Can't be did, nohow. ‘They keep too good rigging. By gum! I oh shisha off, al the time. That’s a darned good man, ° a gyard on it, all night long.” Punch shook bis bead. Vial ‘*The colonel and the rest of us has madé up a scheme,,boy, and it’s baound to go through. You come to my baouse, to-night, and we'll what we shali see, It’s to be a meetin’ fust, and do the biz arterward, you're the man l take ye fur, and the rest of the boys is agree- able, we'll raise sich a muss as the company won’t git over, in a hurry. Did ye know that pe pe they called Long Charley was gone u “No,” said Limpy, surprised, for he knew all the desperadoes that the company bad had in oon service, and Long Charley among the rest, 7 3° as “TI faound it aout, the o'ber day, when one of my men was talkin’ to one of the company’s boys. They ain’t ali as bad as you might think. They don’t seen to have no hard feelin’s ag’in’ our men, if they have ag’in’ us, They git to talkin’, and our men gits things out of ’em. It seems that Tomlinson and some more went off to the Injun country, and got into a muss with some one, over thar, They told us it was Old Cross-Eye; but, whoever it were, he fit like a streak, and killed three of ’em. Tomlin- son was thar, and Long Charley got laid aout among the rest. Naow this.Tom Field has come to the caounty, we've got to git bim on aour side, boys. You thought be was a white- feather, but it seems he’s changed somebow, and we want every man we kin git, on aonr side. The men of the company says they’ve got itin fur him, too. Seems they had a shoot- »’-match up thar, and faound him in witb Oid ross Eye.” . ‘With Old Cross-Eye!” echoed Limpy. “Then that was whar be went to, and no knowed. He must bev Varned to shoot, up thar. Well, Punch, I ain’t no hog, and I must say I’ve kinder’changed my ’pinion abaout that young feller. We was kinder hard on him and he only a Yankee greenborn. [ ain’t goi S to pick on him, no more, ye kin bet. The man shoots like a old yanger, and be ain’t to be sneezed-at,” Punch grinned, He was rather rejoiced at the turn matters had taken; for he felt that the same discomfiture might have overtaken pst ar he was saved from it by being fore- you fellers don’t feel much like itnaow. By the by, Limpy, whar’s your weepins gone?” Again Limpy colored furiously, for he sus- pected from a certain twinkle in Punch’s eye, that the other knew the story of his overthrow | at the hands of the Englishman, | ‘J don’t wanter be wearin’ them all the time,” he said with an assumption of inditfer- ence, and then saw, lying on the table, the very | etek that bad been taken from him by the nglishman, and colored deeper than before as Punch remarked. quietly : : “One of the jecge’s men was hyar while you . was gone and left ’em byar, J dowt know nothen -of course, and if the company’s men says anything, I’m prepared to deny the bull story.” Limpy held out bis hand and grasped that of | his friend with a warm pressure that showed bow grateful he felt. | Then the rancher replaced the pistols in his | belt, and Deaf Smith who had of course beard nothing of this conversation, remarked: | *That’s right, Limpy. Don’t Jet me ketch ye again out without yer weepins. It ain’t decent. A man feelsas if be badu’t no cloze on, in Texas, when he ain’t beeled, What's goin’ to be did abaout this meetin’?” 1% Li They explained to him as well as they could, | partly by signs and partly by words, as sbort and plain as tbey could make them, and tbe deaf rancher rose to take his leave, saying: “Tl be thar to-night, boys, if 1 don’t git laid aout afore then. As to that Tom Field, if ever I meet him again, 1’i) treat him civil, if I know whar I am, you kin bet.. A man who kin shoot like that is a orvamint to Tex- | as. Such was the revulsion in popular feeling pro- _duced by the shots that Tom Field had fired that day. Had he killed one of the ranchers, the anger of his enemies would have been increased against him; but, by showing his skill at the expense of the brute creation, which is cheap in Texas, he bad gained golden opivions aud earned friends, The fact tbat the ranchers wanted friends at | the time, had a great deal todo with this feel- | ing, to be suréy but it was none the less sincere, | because it was interested. Punch Burleson and Deaf Smith rode home, the deaf rancher mounted .on one of Limpy's ponies, which were plentiful enough, As they reached the turning-off place into | Deaf Smith’s ranch, they spied in the distance, | on the way toward Satanstown, the figure of a horseman and Deaf Smith recognized it ina moment, : : . “Thar’s the v man,” he said to Punch. “Tt’s the same paint hoss, and the same gay thought be was a-pla) in’ Punch,” to go after the stranger, and Deaf Smith shouted af ¥. hive, warningly: et x ‘Don’t ye go to cuttin’ up rough with him, Punch, He’s a bl .zes on the shoot, I tell yan Punch laughed as be rode.on, asd soon over- took the stranger, who heard the tread of the horse-hoofs yet never looked back. champing the bit and tossing its head, while the rider carried over bis left arm the rifle that the others bad spoken of. Tbe muzzle was pointing back diagonally at Punch; but the rancher never heeded it, and galloped on. As he came close, more from deviltry than any wish to burt the stranger, be pulled out a pistol and raised it with the intention of putting a bullet th: h: the other’s hat as a gentle reminder that spirit of practical joking was not extinct. . _ He thought the stranger did not hear him, and wanted to have a little fun at bis ex- pense. He had just got settled to his aim, when be was surprised by the flash of a rifle, and the next instant the bullet passed through bis hat; while bis own ball, his aim Savering in the sur- rise of the shot, went harmless in the air over he other's head, The stranger bad fired at bim with his back turned to the mark. Punch was astounded at the feat, and none the less so when the stranger turned his head and the pony at the same time, while ie cried with a menacing air: “Come, sir, if you want any more of that sort of thing, I'l] send the next shot a little lower!” Then Punch saw what explained the apparent mystery. 1 Tom Field bad a small mirror in bis right hand, and bad fired the shot by tbe reflec- tion The rancher had seen such things done on a stage, desigpedly; but here was a man who did them in the open air, with a coolness that show- ed bim a perfect master of bis weapon, Punch put up his pistol at once, and held out his hand, observing: , ‘Sir, you’re the best shot I ever seen. I apologize fur tie joke. 1 were a-goin’ to puta ‘Ef I knowed whar he were, 1 might go and | hole in your bat fur fun, and you’ye sp'iled try to see him myself,” be observed, ‘Guess mine instead, Shake.” Punch waved his band as be turned his horse He rode ‘steadily on at a walk, bis ‘horse,
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Shae 22 Tom Field kept bis rifle over his left arm, with his rigbt hand at the lock, in an attitude that Punch did not like, for it showed that the other could shoot from the hip, by the eye alone, as well as any other way, and made the rancher feel nervous. ‘*T mean it, stranger,” he protested. ‘I know we-uns hev treated ye bad; but by gum, we ain’t on that trail no more, now. We want ye to be friends, and hyar’s my hand on it.” Sep Field eyed him narrowly, and at last said: - °*Mr, Burleson, I never injured you in any way, neither did i any of your friends, I came here to live a quiet life, and let others do the same. Instead of that, you have all sét on me, without giving me 4 sort of chance, and have tried to make my life a very bell on earth, I had never fired a pistol, and you presumed on that to insult me, and call me a coward, when the real cowards were the men who took the ad- vantage of my defenseless condition, to drive me out, by numbers. Now the boot is on the other foot. 1 can outshoot any man in this county, except Hank the Nailer, and be is the only man who never gave me anything but kind words; when the rest of you were insulting me on every possible occasion. Now you pretend that you want to be my friend. Howam I to know | are not trying to take advantage of me, and ‘do that by treachery that you dare not do by open force? If you are sincere, give u the arms that you carry in your belt, and show that yon dare trust me, with your life.” Punch Burleson listened to what the other said, and when he had finished the cheek of the rancher was redder than its wont. He laughed in an uneasy sort of way as he replied: “Waal, now, it seems to me, sir, that ’'m jest abaout as much in your power as you might wish aman. Hyar you've got me kivered, and I hain’t got my pistol on you at all. I don’t deny that we-’uns treated yebad, I jest admit- ted it. But, if ye doubt my word, I hain’t no more to say than this. Jest let’s settle it, fa’r and squa’r, hyar on this spot.” Tom never took his eyes off the rancher as be was speaking, and when he had finished, he an- sSwered, with a sigh of some relief: “No, there is no need of that; I believe you now. You are not afraid to be Killed. I will take your word that you mean me honestly.” Punch instantly put his pistol back to bis hip, out of the way of # quick snatch, and said: “‘ Come, that’s the talk for a man, stranger. Your name’s Field ain’t it?’ * Yes, sir.” 2: “ Waal, Mr. Field, ’'m glad to meet ye.” ———e CHAPTER XXV. THE RANCHERS’ MEETING. THaT night there was a meeting of riders, who came, from all quarters of the compass, to Punch Burleson’s ranch, though there was no moon to guide them on the way. ‘ The odd thing about the meeting was, thatno one left his house till after eleven o’clock at night, had the time been counted by watches, in eg county, which it was not, as a general thing. © They came slowly from the house, and went’ to the sheds where the horses, that were wanted for immediate use in the daytime, were gen- erally kept; and rode slowly down the lanes to the river-side one by one, at a foot-pace, The ioe hs thing about their riding was that it was absolutely noiseless, from the fact that every horse bad its feet tied up in strips of old blanket and sacking, to muffle the sound. There was never more than one horseman at a time, and he never rode faster than a walk, and kept in the middle of the road, between the two fences. hos It would almost have’ seemed a meeting of ag so stealthily and silently did each go orth. > On the other side of the fence, in the ground of the cattle company, these night-riders could hear the sound of voices, that showed where the men of the rich corporation were on guard, over the b»rbed wires, that had caused so much bad blood in Satanta county, * These guards had become tired of their task _ by this time, and had the babit of. getting into groups and talking, to keep themselves awake. The silent riders went on, as if: they had ar- ranged their plan of action beforehand, and took the way to the river, thence tga 4 Meer the vena till they came to the ranch of Punch Bur- eson. é‘ y It had been selected, for the reason that it was the central one of the lot, witb an equal distance to either extremity of the line, By midnight, quite a number of men had gone up Punch Burleson’s lane, and disappeared un- der the big shed, which he kept ready, at all times, for the sale of horses to chance customers. After they had put up their animals, the came out on foot, and went to the house, whic was a small and unpretentious edifice of logs, that looked as if it contained only one or two rooms, s Cy As a matter of fact, it had three. _ The front had two, and a long extension was run out of the back, in the shape of a cross, ; : mb ied * Cee dele eed Acree vgs g nae ¥ hing 14 oi Pe ysl hit 2 ee i et < x ‘ -- toon | 1 | Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. which contained one long store room, for the use of Punch’s cowboys, In this room, with the windows darkened with blankets, so that no gleam of light. shone outside, were gathered, that night, all the ran- chers of Satanta county, with the exception of Judge Collingsworth, and the buzz of conversa- tion was kept up, in low, guarded tones, that sbowed the caution of the men who composed the meeting. But the ranchers were not the only people in that room, for every man had brought his cow- boys with him; and the cowboys were as much interested in the matter at issue as their employ- ers, for there is nothing on earth more: faithful to his chief than a Texan cowboy. y At last Punch got up, and rapped on a table for order, when a bush came over the scene, and he said, in a low distinct voice: : “‘Gentlemen, you know what we're hyar fur. What d’ye want to say abaout it?’ **Colonel” Callahan got up, and said: ' *T move we organize a meeting at once, and put Mr, Burleson in the cheer. All agreeable will say ay.” There was a low murmur of “ayes” over the room; and Punch, with the pride of a true American at being chosen to preside over a meeting, smiled all over his face, as he asked: ‘* What’s the pleasure of the meetin’?” Then Limpy Balstrop got up, and everybody looked at him with attention; for the story of his discomfiture at the bands of the Englishman had gone over the county, though every one pretended not to believe it. Limpy looked rather awkward as he rose, but he knew every- body there, and managed to speak to the point. “Gentlemen,” he said, ‘‘ye all know that, when we come hyar fust, there warn’t a fence in the bull caounty; and we come 2 a and made the caounty what it is, now. e come hyar, when the Injuns was round, and there ain’t one of you, hyar, but what’s bad bis scrim- mages with the greasy cusses. Well, we druv ’em aout, and got the caounty in order, and we was all happy. We had onr ranches, and the cattle was growin’, and we was a-growin’ with ’em and oi otigs, owned the big preerie, outside, but the State. Then comes this hyar cattle com- pany, and tells us it’s bought the hull of the caounty, without givin’ us, who’d made it what it is, a chance to say yea ornay. Then they comes and puts up this darned, diabolical fe: of theirn, as if they’d meant to do the most damage they could; and by gum, they did it,” “You're right, thar,” broke in Punch Burle- son, without any more regard to the dignity of the meeting than if he had been talking in a bar- room. ‘I lost a good broncho, the very fust night; ahd he’s gone lame ever since. The darned ornary galoots!” “And so did I,” chimed in another man, while the ‘‘colonel” contented himself with the re- mark: ‘‘ Hear! hear!” which, he had heard, was the proper parliamentary way of. expressing approval of a sentiment. : impy, excited by the approving cries, looked round him, in the proud consciousness of a man who has his audience with him, and went on: “Waal, gentlemen, what’s goin’ to did abaout it? That’s what we've got to settle to- night, We've tried to git justice at Austin, and they won’t give it to us. e’ve offered to buy the land from the eattle company, and they won't selltous. It’s true they offered to buy us | aout; but they hain’t offered us no price fur the land, and, when we go aout of hyar, what air we to do with aour beasts? Naow, I’m allers in favor of the rule of the majority, and I want to ha what some one else has got to say abaout Tben Limpy sat down and wiped his forehead, as a man who had been engaged ina tremendous intellectual effort. He was suceeeded by a blank silence, which oo for some time, and at last the chairman said: “Thar’s a _ Seat tegen hyar, as some of ye know; but I didn’t, till to-day. He’s what they call a’ eddicated man, an’ I kin sw’ar that he shoots a streak; fur I’ve see’d him. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce toyye Mr. Thomas Field, who has come to settle amongst us, if he kin buy a o- place.” , ll eyes were turned on the young man, whose fine clothes had attracted the attention of more than one; but who was comparatively unknown, from the time he had been absent. Sg Field rose up quietly. He had no feeling of embarrassment, for the simple reason that he was thé only man of education in the room. He rose with a smile, and looked round him. “Gentlemen,” he said, ‘‘I don’t know that anythinged could say would have mu¢h weight with you; but it seems to me that you have only one method of redress, and that is to go to the Législature with your wrongs, and elect men thereto who will] fight for your rights. I am not a believer in the doctrine thet the State has any right to sell land to private persons, at the ex- ense of the people who make the land valuable, if it has any value atall. This fencing-in of the prairie outside, and debarring you from access thereto, when the company really owns. a sbrit of ten miles wide, is an outrage. My advice is to go to the Legislature when it meets.” v7 A teseey Ae en or aes hs 4 A ald cee Bs Js As | they went out, Punch whispered:. But his words bad very little effect, and the faces of the ranchers and cowboys showed that- they thought bim a visionary. ‘“* Colonel” Callahan got up immediately, and said: ay je “Yes, that’s all very well; but in the mean time the cattle are goin’ to ruin, and the legisla- ture don’t meet till a month. Now, ’m goin” to take the bull by the horns, gentlemen, Punch: Burleson and me, we've b’en a-talkin’ this: thing over fur some time, and we came to the’ conclusion thaf thar’s only one thing to do, and that is tocut the darned fence to flinders: in, _ night, and hyar’s the tools to do it with,’ As he spoke he produced from the pocket of his loose deerskin coat a pair of nippers, which action bad the singular effect of making every man 4@n the room, with the exception of Tom Field, go into his own pocket, and produce ay implement of exactly the same Character. ‘““We’ve stood enough from the darned skunks,” continues the ‘‘ colonel,” ‘‘and naow it’s time we struck fur aour rights. Gentlemen, there’s no time like the present. I move that we resolve aourselves into a cuttin’ committee, and go to work this very night. -The gyards: has got keerless, and were all together. If we meet them welll take them by surprise, and that’s the time to give them what they give us on’st.’ The sentiment evoked such universal approval: that it was eVident ranchers and cowboys were- alike ripe for mischief, and the chairman, with- out ? them. for the seconding of the motion, cried: “Gentlemen, it is moved that we make committee, and go to work this very night, and rip the darned old fence to pieces. Air you ready fur the question? Al in favor will say” ay. And the deep murmur of “ayes” that went: up from the crowd, showed that they were in earnest, Ge Then some one asked: ‘‘But whar’s the jedge all this time? He oughter be in line with the rest of us.” There was a short silence, and then Limpy Balstrop spoke up: ‘‘T went thar to give him the message, and got into a muss, boys, Waal—to tell the truth got the wu’st of it, and didn’t give him the message. He'll bé with us when it’s done, And now, the only thing to do is to make every one. in this room sw’ar to bold bis darned tongue- abaout what's goin’ to be did.” - Tom Field rose up, and all eyes were fixed on him with a decidedly hostile ate for they had not forgotten his pacific advice, and: did not want to hear i fl more of it. ‘*Gentlemen,” he said, quietly, “I can’t say that [am surprised at what you have resolved on; and although it is against the law, there are times when self-preservation is above all laws.. But, before you go any further, let me say something. dge Collingsworth may. be in- clined to take the offer of the company, In that case what would you do to him?” ot question started a buzz and one man cried: -“ What d’ye mean, stranger? He wouldn’t _ dar’ to doit. We'd make Satanta ¢achnty too hot to bold him, if he went back on us,” Field bowed. — “Just what I wanted to find out. But you must remember that he has daughters, and that he might do a great deal, for their sakes, that. he would not do if he were unincumbered with a family. Now you are going out to do a very dangerous deed. Are you prepared?” Punch Burleson laughed as he replied: 3 ‘*Mr, Field, did you ever hyar of Kukluwin’ ? We had a little of it, daown this way, on’st on & time, and we hain’t furgot it. You’ve got to ride with us, you. know 1} be the wuss fur you. You’rea good man on the shoot; but ye can’t fight a bull caounty.” Tom. Field paled slightly, but his tone was: firm as he answered; ‘“‘I~bave faced a whole. county, before this, when I had not so mucb asa knife. I have no fear of death. But I have no wish to deter you, if vou are determined on doing what you are about to do. It may be the best thing, in the end, But you know tbat the men in the service of the company are all sworn special constables, Suppose you are recognized,. what then?” ‘ - Limpy Balstrop tapped his revolver signifi- cantly, as he answered: © 9 So much the worse fur the man that spots me, “ And me too,” muttered several other men. Then Punch offered Field a hood, cut in the old ‘“‘ Kuklux,” pattern, with holes for the eyes and mouth; a perfect disguise for any sort of person, = ‘*Come,” he said, ‘it’s time we was cff- Who'll be captain? We want one head.” With one accord they all murmured: ‘You, you,” aud Punch assumed the command, witha readiness that was explained by the fact that he was an old Confederate soldier, and bad ‘Colonel ” Callahan bad never been heard of. why aL fought in many a battle, where the mifitary, Pg axe
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“ Now, boys, keep together, and if ye come acrost the company’s men, give ’em cold steel, if ye kin.” CHAPTER XXVI. THE NIGHT-RIDERS OF SATANTA COUNTY. A LONG string of silent horsemen, moving across the prairie in the dark. They marched like Indians, one after the other, and the feet of their horses made no noise. Presently the head of the file turned to the right, and a slight sound, like the hiss of a snake, was repeated all along the line, as each follower came to the place where the leader had turned, They had come to the line of the barbed-wire fence, and moved straight along it. Presently the leader halted; turned his horse to the fence; and the rest of the men behind him did the same. There was another faint hiss from the head of the line, and it was closely followed by the sound of a succession of sharp clicks, as the men stooped from their saddles and snapped the wires apart with the powerful nippers that each carried, There were three distinct clicks, and then the line of horsemen moved on. Where there had been a fence of three wires, a moment before, there was a blank now. The wires had been cut all along the line, and the fence destroyed. The line of horsemen numbered about sixty men, all told; and stretched for a third of a mile, being arranged at the distance to take a panel to each man, at one nip, They were first engaged at Punch’s ranch, and, by the time they had marched round it, they had demolished the fence entirely, and Punch’s cattle were free to roam as they had done before its erection, © And all the time they had not met one of the company’s guards. — Then they took their way, straight across the range of the company, to Limpy Balstrop’s property, and did the same destruction there, with silence and celerity making a clean breath™ across the ranch a third of a-mile wide. They had found, from the time it took to destroy, that they could not do the job thoroughly to more than three ranches in one night. a They found no guards about; but they attri- buted that to the distance they kept from the log-palace, which was the eed-qquattens of the company. From Limpy’s place they went to Deaf . Smith’s ranch, and 6 it was that they first ran on the guards, that they had hitherto escaped. -Punch was stooping down to cut the wires, and his men were following his example, when they heard the distant but unmistakable patter of horse-hoofs at full gallop. They all looked round instinctively, and saw bright flashes in the darkness, out on the prairie. Then came the crackle of fire-arms, and Punch said, in his cool, guarded tones: ss “Now, boys, remember, no firin’ if ve kin git along without it. Lay low and _ give it to those cusses when they come clost. Tharain’t many on ’em, from the sound of the hosses. Don’t let one of ’em escape. Thar bullets ain’t notben, in the dark.” _ Had he shown the least excitement, it is prob- able there would have been a stampede, for there’ is something in the work of men who know they are in defiance of the law, however bad the law be, that disposes them to timidity; but the cool tones of the veteran— for Punch was a’real soldier, who had-seen more than fifty desperate fights—calmed them down, and they went on cutting, following the example of their leader. , The flashes of ‘pistols in the dark, had been the only indication thaf an assault was to be made, and the wildness of the fire had only in- spired them with conten pes ties Théo the appearance of a little knot of men on the prairie was followed by the rush of a dozen of the company’s guards, cursing savage. ly, as if they hoped to overawe and cow their opponents by their first dash. / Bat, this. time, they bad reckonéd without their host, for, as soon as they were within fair range of a chargé, the fence-cutters made a owitt, meee cet, with their knives out, and, in another minute, the men of the compan were fleeing for their lives, all mixed up with the’ night-ri while the sound of bavace ciitsing, Se iettoeeesliny tok OF auouy of aie abies the irrepressible sbriek of @goD 1 after =~ tabbed to the heart and fallen from his orse.. > hen arose, in spite of Panch’s efforts to stop noise, the old yell, heard so often of yore on many a stricken field —the regular old-time ‘rebel yell” that carried terror to 80 many, when it rose over the rattling volleys of the bar hy line, — ge: sf dab ee ov the fence-cutters bad lost all co Over. themeclyes, and raced after the discomfited constables of the company, cbasing them like hares, and senbtoy down ten, out of Aggie: came on, in less than three minutes. ‘hen Punch Burleson, who had thought of ! true military precaution, blew a nr -of the fact that every Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. THE English overseer looked after the jud as he rode away, with a scowl] that was the- first revelation of his true character he bad: = since he came to Texas. ' ‘omlinson saw it, and the desperado smiled: ‘to himself; for he bad fears that his chief was not a bad enough man for the work he was en- ga on in face of the hostile ranchers. ut the scow] showed that Berkeley was as: bad as any man need be, and kis next words told Tom 1 that he had gaged the mind of his companion truly. A ‘*That man’s got to be Gis of,” he said,. with the cool air of one who talked only of kill-- ing acalf, ‘* Tomlinson, there is such a Sat ‘in this country, I believe, as picking,a q “= isn’ there?” Tomlinson grinned. “Thar is, ms = “Then it strikes me, Tomlinson, that here is a case where the process might be advisable. Remember he must be the first to draw a wea- . You under whatI mean” —_—si " kon I do, Cap. I’ve often done it on. my own k, ye know. < “Then the quicker it is done, the better.” And the aristocratic scamp turned his horse and rode away, while Tomlinson, who under- stood the hint he had received, put spurs to his borse and rode after the judge, who was going to Limpy Balstrop’s ranch, the next to hisewn. The judge.was so intent on the. trail. of the- night-riders and the damage they had done, that he did not hear Tomlinson’s horse, till the desperado was close alongside bim, when-he turned his head, anf Tomlinson accosted hin familiarly. ‘* Hello, jedge, haow goes it?” - The judge was a man of great personal digni- ty, and he drew himself up to reply: + Sy “Sir, don’t know you. I sball-be oblige if you would transfer your civilities elsewhere.’ ‘omlinson laughed. ‘* Oh, that’s all very well, old man; but you can’t ¢ that over me. You was aout night, yereasly old fox, jedge. 1 know ye, of old.” 24 Tbe old man stared at him, and bis face flushed es pe ; for pot pr gn e —— was trying a qua wi and the ve he Cleator a ie oz ju uck, i “Now look here, Mir. Tomlinson—” he began, - when the other burst out into a fit of con-- aH eh Pca eis kl }
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24 “Thought ye didn’t know me, know my name?” The judge reddened deeply as he retorted: ‘*One may know any sort of public scoundrel, ‘by name and reputation, sir, without being compelled to recognize him socially. Get out of my path, sir.” And the bot-headed old Southerner instantly drew his pistol; for he saw that the other was ent on provoking a fight, and he was resolved on giving him ,the first. bullet, before he could draw his own weapon. He saw, too, what ‘Tomlinson did not see, the figure of a horseman coming over the prairie, behind the desperado, from the direction of Punch Burleson’s ranch, and recognized the form of Tom Field, who was galloping straight toward the pair. He had gotten his pistol out of. the holster, and almost cocked it, when Tomlinson, who had bad his bands down by his side, under the Mexican serape he wore over his gray jacket, suddenly fired from under that shelter, a cow- ardly shot, that be had had trained all the time he had been speaking; and the poor old judge threw up his arms, his pistol going off as he did 80, and fell under the feet of bis pony, with a faint cry, shot through the middle of the breast. The next minute came a shout in.the rear, and the desperado turned his horse fo see the stranger, whom he did not recognize at first, coming over the green plain as fast as he could Zo. Tomlinson saw the gay velvet dress, and thought it the sure mark of one of his own class, Hie Who it could beta did not know; but he ‘threw back his serape instantly, and prepared for action; for the duel on horseback was one of bis stroazest points, and one on which he prided himself particularly. ¥ The two men wasted ne time in words, . They seemed to recognize an enemy as soon as they set eyes on each other. ‘ Tom Field had his Winchester rifle out, and ‘flred as he crossed the desperado’s path diago- nally, while Tomlinson threw himself over the side of the horse, in the Indian fashion, The desperado had a rifle as well as the man pts was coming; but he had not had it out in me. 4 He had attacked the judge with a derringer, which could be bidden in the hand, and kept urider the shade of the serape, while bis Wiv- chester had been strapped to his back. He managed to get it out as he went over the side of bis horse, but not before his animal had re- eeived the shot intended for himself. It had been fired to strike him in the side, just above the belt, but as hé went over the other side of the horse, Tom Field changed the aim, in ‘time to tuke the horse in the side, and_dropped it on the grass, stone-dead. This was by no means a disadvantage to Tom- Haow d’ye _ linson, as far as the duel went, because’it gave + re the full jump. him a shelter for his body, under which he could fire at the other, as he rode about, ex- But Tom Field, on bis part, as soon as he saw the pony go down, put spurs to his own horse, ‘and. ee by the fallen steed, at full speed, Fe g into the only thing he saw exposed by oaiessonathies of the desperado, That head was behind the sights of a rifle and shot after shot was returned as Tom sent them in, with an accuracy that showed Tomlin- -, bad not see alan mt ia ' heapoud ' the horse was against any e ‘tion for either party; but it told against cu- ield the most; for the other man was lying down, |. and had a steady rest, while Tom’s pony was on Had it not been trained for the express pur- ‘pose of firing from its back, the disadvantage would have been greater; but Tom bad trained it, up in the lonely ranch at the borders of the Indian Territory. * The ten shots in each rifle were delivered in than ten seconds; for neither man bad any idea of being shot down while taking aim. Tom felt several sharp twinges, as he was grazed by the bullets of the desperado, but none of them see to make a disabling wound, and he rode on at speed, till be had exhausted bis magazine, when he passed out ef range to re- Aoad. It was his first duel, and he felt a strange sen- sation of exbilaration, as“he realized that he was not burt yet. He had recognized Tomlinson, and had seen the desperado shoot down the old judge. He had sped to avenge the murder, as if he bad been a born Texan. All his former scruples 9 “ the wind at the sight of the old map, as @ fell. ; Hitherto he had only fired at animals or tar- gets, and the words of the old nee Sasnd rough his_mind at that moment: we seen many a man wear a whole arsenal of wea A who would run like a hare, if he had to use them at targets that fired back at him.” Now he firing at just that sort of target. It was firing back at him, with an aim that showed the p behind it was no fool, and he remembered that the last time he and Tomlin- gon bad met, the desperado had out-shot him Would he out-shoot bim now? * ~ vita ‘is on’ = me 2 é P TOME) eS oe Per here nn eer Ft ap ed a Jin, PC Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. There was not much time to think about it* The poor judge was still lying there by his pony, but Tom could see, from the way in which he moved that’ he had not been killed. The poor old man was writhing about, andtry- ing to rise. Tomlinson was kneeling behind the body of his horse, réloading his Winchester, with a coolness that showd he had not yet received a wound, Tom directed his eyes upward for a moment and his lips moved, but he safd no audible words, Perhaps his prayer was nono the less beard. Then he set spurs to his horse, and came down on the kneeling desperado at his best | speed, the pony fairly leaping out.of its skin in its eager rush. Tomlinson drew up bis rifle to fire, and Tom put in p#ecticea trick which he had learned from bis friend Wild Cat, in. an Indian drill that he had seen up by the ranch of Old Cross- e. Watching for the flash, be made his horse swerve from the path, and, as he expected, the | shot went by his side, and sped on harmlessly, It pas-ed his shoulder, and showed him that Tomlinson was firing low, to hit bim in the breast. } The flash had not yet fairly hidden itself in the white smoke, when he fired back into the puff, and saw something that made 4 spring to one side, and then fell over, He hid hit Tomlinson, though how severely he could not tell; for the desperado’was again sheltered, bebind the carcass of the ponv. Then Field remembered what Wild Cat had told bim av Indian would do, in such an emer- gency. ‘* Make the horse do the work for you. It is dangerous to go near a wild beast, when it is | wounded,” He eireled off in the Indian fashion, with the object of getting to the other side of the shelter and making Tomlinson move out. ; His pony was fresh and swift, and bad been trained, not only by himself but by Wild Cat, for a war Ege: It would stop as soon as its master jumped off, and wait for bim to remuunt, and Tom had determined to take advantage of all the tricks he knew. He swept on. at full speed, and, as he circled the dead pony, saw the desperado drag himself slowly round the shelter, with a motion that sbowed he was either badly hurt, or afraid that be. come be, if he showed a single inch of his ody. . O ce he got another chance, and was about to fire, when tbe flash came again, 2nd the hiss of the bullet was so close that it tore the flap- ping side of bis jacket,and left a hole there, that showed bow he would have fared, if it had been tighter. The flapping had deceived Tomlinson’s eye. True to the teaching of his Indian friend, Tom sent a bullet back into the smoke in auswer to ‘the messenger at his own door, > Whether it took effect or not, he could not tell any more than a man in a baitle, but he sped on''sill be was out Of the smoke, trying to get round his enemy’s flank. Hy Presently be. saw Tomlinson’s_serape coming into view, and it Jay quite still. On he went. till he bad got round the side of the horse, aud the of the desperado was ii revealed lying there. he hand lay on the back of the pony and the rifle was nowhere to be seen, rer ip ( The desperado was apparently dead, lying on his face, ee had it not been for the wise counsels of his old friend that came into his mind at that momont with pecaine force on account of, the way in which they had come to him, Tom Pield might have fallen into a serious mistake, He had. actually turned bis horse's head in- ward, to ride up and examine the body, when the counsel of Wild Cat flashed over his mind. ‘* When you think your enemy dead,” was the counsel of the savage, derived from many an Indian fight, ‘itis cheaper to waste an ar row on a dead y than to receive one from a live warrior.” The moral of the counsel was not altered by the substitution of bullets for arrows. Tom Field balted bis borse and drew up his rifle to fire, when the wisdom of the Indian’s advice was arikiagly coven Tomlinson, who bac ken the desperate chance be bad in the hope of hoodwinking the oung man into coming-hear bim unguarded, had been watching him as_ he rode and as soon asa the horse sto} and fired at bim. Y The fact that he did not leap to his feet show- ed that he was hurt, but his aim was as good as ever, and Tom Field fell back before be could level bis rifle. For a moment he hung on the croup of his horse and then slipped down and lay extended on the grass, to all appearance dead. The desperado slowly rose up, and smiled as bene sore dailet! 26 siudb ‘alee ake $a = , youn ft ain't allers safe think a ae ead till ye’ve,see’d the grave.” — 5 lf-supported by the carcass of the pped the desperado rolled over’ ® Then he advanced slowly oyer the grass to- ward the body of the other, walking as if he was severely hurt, which was the case. Tom’s first bullet bad done the. most damage when Tomlinson had risen to his knees to fire, For that moment the desperado’s whole bod had been exposed, and he had received a ball through the bowels, that promised to end his | existence in a short space of time—not more than a week, at furthest. But-Tomlins6én, like most men of bis class, had that much of thé savage about him, that he was willing to die, if be could only get bis revenge on the man that | had shot bim. He had shammed death on pur- pose to get the other near bim, and it bad never ; entered bis head tbat a young man who had never bad any experiehce in fighting, would- retort the trick on himself. His. only fault was in not knowing that Tom | had been taught by an Indian warrior. The Indians have Jong reduced the art of fighting on horseback, one at a time, to a science; and the youngest warridr who has passed through their war-drills has all the theoretical knowledge of the oldest, though he may lack its application. Tom had been an enthusiast about the In- dians, and they had been proud of their pupil. Wild Cat, in particular, had taught him most of the Indian drill, and bad given bim particular instructions about the way to sham dead and outwit an enemy who has shammed dead, When Tom saw the flash of Tomlinson’s piece, he realized the game of the other, and dropped off the side of bis hdrse, on purpose to dodge the bullet, and make the desperado think be had killed bim, The ball had really struck him, not where Tomlinson had aimed it, in the middle of bis body, but had passed through the flesh of the side, just above the hip bone where | the largest muscles of the human body are } situated, It bad made a wound, not deep, but very sharp, and accompanied with a tremendous sbock as slight hurts often are in battle, » He had fallen from bis horse from faintness -but retained bis coolness under the strain; and saw the desperado coming slowly toward him, hobbling, with his rifle for a support in a way that showed he was bit bard. Tom lay still, and the words of the old Indian again flashed throuch his mind. “A death-blow,” said Wild Cat solemnly, ‘ig the only one that a warrior never repents, The heart of a man is the life of a man,” Tom lay there on bis back, and bis “in te watching him keepnlv as he came; but Tomlin- son had not got bis rifle trained on bis foe. As the desperado came within range, the younger man patil leveled bis own piece as he Iny, and fired, The sbot struck Tomlinson in the heart, and he fell dead. Sa CHAPTER XXVIII. SURGEON AND FRIEND. Tom Frevp had killed bis first man in fair figut, and, as he saw the desperado go down, he felt a strange sensation of mingled sorrow and — triumph, moment before, there bad been a fine, stalwart man, with a bandsome face and thé skill of a trained warrior, Now it was re- duced to a heap of senseless clay and the young man slowly rose to bis feet and stared down at the body, as if he was spellbound. He, Tom Field, who bad been the gentlest of men; who bad sbru his sensitive and artistic temperament, bad killed a man in fair fight, and that man the most noted desperado in that part of Texas, _ He himself was burt, but the burt was a mere trifle, as be knew, when he came to examine, from his own medical knowledge. He hastily bandaged. it, and started over to see how badly the poor judge had been burt, He was able to mount his horse; rode there, and found the old man on the grass, moaning feebly, with the hot sun shining into hiseyes. _ He was shot through the middle of the lungs, and Tom saw that, if he were not rémoved from where he was lying, he would stand a chanee of dying in a v-ry few bours, | The young man lifted the bead of : and gave bim water, from uber tt ) carried with him, The judge swallowed it eagerly, in the intense thirst wh is always preduced by a wound, and asked: “Who's that? Is that you, Field? “Yes, sir,” answered Tom, soothitimly. ‘It’s all right, sir, You didn’t know I was a doctor, I am, and I'll manage to bring you through, I killed the fellow that shot you, sir.” old one The judge opened his eyes.and stared at the — founa oab who was supporting him, as he — whispered: ‘Field, L anfafraid I was very rude to you, the other day. I apologine. made a grave mistake.” Z “ Don’t think of that, sir,” replied Tom, as he ei an to wash the wound, and puta piece of lint on it, with strips of plaster, the only way os cranes could be stopped, in a wound of that nad. ~~ 1 “He was close to me,” continued the judge, in the same tone, as if he wanted to say what he could, while there was yet ) / ‘ ; ans eee Ce shrunk from quarreling, from — . “Tsaw him — if Arey
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_. deft, a few min go down, and I heard the shots. And you killed him? Field, you must be a hero.” Tom had finished bis task as far as he could get, and now be rose to look about him, and try to find one of the judge’s men. Instead of that, he saw the figure of the Eng- lish overseer of the cattle company, coming over the green grass, followed by several men, For a moment the blood rushed to Tom Field’s heart; for be had been a witness, at a distance, of the shortinterview between the Englishman and the judge, and had seen tbe latter start Tomlinson on bis errant of death. He knew that the men in Berkeley’s service were all desperadoes, and thought it quite like- ly that they might attack bim then and there. He ran to his borse at once and mounted it, when be cast a swift glance over the horizon and saw to his great joy, at a distance away but still in sight, a number of men, whom he thougbt must be the neighboring ranchers. He hesitated a moment, and then saw that it would not do for the Englishman to get. hold of him before his friends came to his assistance. The judge was past help, unless he could be taken to his own house, and the young man took his resolution and acted on it at once. He galloped off as. hard as he could toward the new. eomers, and heard the sound of shots be- hind bim which told that the resolution had only been taken in time, The Englishman was pursuing bim, though for what motive he could vot tell at the time. But he was confident in the speed of his horse, and the whistling of the bullets did not disturb him so much as they would have done an hour before. H+ bad smelt powder, and found that it is not every bullet that bits the mark it is aimed atin a fight. Before long he recognized the figures of Punch Burleson and a dozen or more of bis and other ranchers’ men, and galloped up to tuem. They had heard the shooting, and came down to see what was the matter. “ They’ve bit the judge,” he explained hur- riedly, ‘‘ and l've killed Tomlinson for it, Come on and help me take the judge home before be is quite gon’. We may manage to save him if we are quick enough.” ye The cries of sympathy he heard convinced him that the absence of the judge from the couneil of the previous night had not entirely aliepated the ranchers from bim. Without wasting time in talk they turned their horses and rode.back to where the body lay. a they came they saw that the party of the Englisoman had turned away, fearing to meet them, for there were only five men in the party, and the men with Punch were at least a dozen. They found the poor old man still in the grass where he had fallen, and took him up and home. Tom Field rode first, to take the nows to the family, for none of the ranchers dared to do it, He tound the place in a state of excitement, for one of the cowboys had just come in from the range, and bad spread the news that the “ judge was dead.” . ibe first person be saw was Diana Collings- worth, who opened the door and ran out to meet him, her face pale and wild, crying: “Tell me it is not true! It can't be true! He went away only a few minutes ago. Is he dead?” Tum shook his head emphatically, “No, no, [say, NO. He is not dead. What- ever you do, don’t think that. He is-hurt; but we will manage to get him over it, if you will be calm... Laas go into the house and get bis room ready. It is imperative he should not be worried now, Calmness is his only hope. Miss Diana, 1 depend on you, Couragé is needed, and you have it, Can you bear to see him and keep from evincing emotion? It is his only hope of life. He ke rapidly and almost sternly, for he knew that it was best to rouse the girl to self- control, and he succeeded. ) With a desperate effort she calmed herself, and said to him. with quivering lips: “T willtry. But you say there ts hope.” ‘There is, there is,” he nepaetes earnestly, ‘‘He was shot by the man Tomlinson in the same place that Tomlinson was shot a few weeks ago. The one got well; and the other may, if be is kept quiet and nursed well. Tell your sister to be quiet. It is the only chance for him,” Then as she went back to the house, in obedi- ence to his orders, given with the authority of the ‘‘ king of the sick room,” he added; “The man who hurt bim is dead. He was shot by a friend of your father.” Without waiting to hear what she said, he turned bis borse and galloped back to where the ranchers were coming slowly toward the house witb the body of the wounded mao. They had made a litter of their saddles, by attaching blankets to the horns of the trees, and bad laid the judge thereon, where be would have the least motion from the animals as they walked along So he was ee. into the door-ya taken into the house, w the ravc Old Cross-Eye, the Mave he had full of life, and | of hers and rick-Hunter. 25 cowboys remained outside, and talked over | the affair in the low tones of constraint and anger, that are. ominous, in Texas, of ven- | geance, The judge had been a favorite all over the | couaty for his generosity and the fact that he came of a good Georgia family—a fact which goes for a good deal in the South. He had not béen so exhausted but that he could speak on the way to the house, and, in a few short sentences tell them how Tomlinson had ridden after and picked a quarrel with bim, shooting him down without a chance to defend | himself. i He had told them, also, how Tam Field had killed the desperado; and tke recital had sent up Tom many degrees in the estimation of his | hearers; for they had all known and dreaded | Tomlinson, who bad the reputation of being the | quickest shot in Texas. When they arrived at the heuse, and bad | taken the wounded ‘man in, they left the young doctor to take care of him, and retired, with the delicacy of men who dare not intrude on ladies at any time, but much more in sorrow. Not one would have dared todo what Tom had done, when be went forward to tell the daugh- ters of the judge what had happened to their father. Then, in the quiet, cool chamber to which the judge had been taken, Tom had the first oppor- tunity to find out exactly what injury the old | man had suffered.@ The girls were sent out of the room, and the judge was alone with his sur- geon. When the examination was over, the old man asked, ina tone that showed surprising strength: ‘* Well, doctor, what is the verdict?” Tom’s answer was: “You are shot through the middle of the | lungs, sir; and, if you get over the next three days, you will have achance.” — ATE Tbe judge smiled, as if he had expected a | worse message, and said: Tom Field noticed her paleness, and when | he had given the judge the whisky that was needed, he insisted on the girl’s taking a swal- | low of the fiery spirit, which half-choked her but saved her from the collapse that he feared; for Diana was the one “ef tbe two, for all her active, out-of-door habits, that bad the least courage of the sisters. Then the old judge looked round bim, and. said, in a clear, strong voice: ~ ‘* Neighbors, I called you in to witness ny will. lt has been all ready to sign for years, with the name cf the executor in biank, Mr, | Field, will you be good enough to write as I dictate?” Helen, at a sign, brought forth a little writ- ing-table and set it by the bed, and Tom took his seat, ready to wri e. “The name of \the executor, you will see, is left blank in several places,” resumed the judge. “You will put your own full name in there, | wherever it occurs.” Here Diana Collingsworth uttered a slight cry of surprise, and looked as if she thought her father must be wandering: but bis next words made her stare at Tom Field with still more astonishment. ‘*T am making Mr. Field my executor, neigh- bors,” the old man pursued, “ because he is the best man I can think of to take care of my daughters. He is a man of education, who will know what is necessary to do in the way of law, and he will be called on ‘to defend my chilcren against any hostility that may arise from my having incurred tbe enmity of the head of the cattle company. I know that there is a great | struggle coming, here, and the beginning is shown by the way in which their bullies have set on me to-day. Tom Field was the man tbat killed my murderer, and-he is the bravest and best shot I ever saw in Texas, Any girl who gets him for a busband will bave a man to de- perd upon.” The judge spoke slowly and distinctly, as if “If I get over the next three days? But that is the trouble, If I don’t what then?” ‘You will sink very rapidly,” said Tom, frankly. ‘‘{£ cannot deceive you, sir. have any disposition of property to make, it is | better it should be made, while you are yet strong.” The old man appeared to be thinking for a short space of time: then he raised his head, and said calmly: ‘You are right. I have two daughters to take care of. Tell Helen I want her, and ask the boys to come here and witness my will.’ Tom bowed and left the room, CHAPTER XXITX, THE JUDGE’S WILL. Wuern Helen Cuilingsworth came intg the | room, her father said to her: ; | ‘* Helen, child, go to my desk and bring. me | the packet that you will find in the drawer at | the back that opens with a spring. You know. The secret one, | meap. Jt is sealed up.” The girl, who was the eldest of the two and | the gf of ber father, obeyed and went | away, and the old judge continued.to Tom: You will understand what 1 mean; for you area man of education, I used to think you were too timid to do for Texas; but that is all over now. Iam going to make you executor of my will.” ‘But, my dear sir,” began the young man, astounded at the idea, ‘I am no relative of yours, and do not even know what—” The judge interrupted him with a wave of the hand, as he said: f “Tl am dying, and you must not refuse ‘me anything now, These girls will be left ali alone, and will need a protector. He must be a gentleman in all oe These honest fel- lows, round here, would ve enough; but there are otber things to be Considered. My executor must be a man of knowledge as well asa brave man, Besides, I owe you an apology for my former treatment of you, and the best I can make is to show you that I know I was wrong.” Then, as Helen returned, be said aloud: “Tell any of our friends that are outside, that I want some witnesses to my will. Is Punch Burleson there? If so, send him, and any of the others bere, I wish to do this thing publicly, that there may be no dispute about it.” : Then; while the girl had gone to summon the rest, he opened the packs ge, and showed Tom a parchment, all drawn up, in legal style. ‘* There,” he’ said; “they have always called me ‘judge’ here; and they were not so far wrong, after all. Iam no fool_about the law, | [had that drawn up, years ago, in blank; and the nemes of the executors and witnesses are | left to be filled in, It saves trouble in’ prov- | ipg, to bave them al] alive, Here they cume. ow give me something to keep me up, till I am through this.” Then the ranchers filed into the room, look- ing awkward and silent, while Diana Collings- worth, who had not hitherto dared to enter. came with them and took her stand by the bea of the bed, with a look as if she were going to faint, but very quiet. : eras he wished to make bis reparation to Tom as | public as be could;-bat be did not see the effect | bis words bad on bis youngest daughter, If yout To Diana they were as if they bad fallen front Heeven, and ber face, as she turned it to Tem, writing at the table, was full of mingled tri- ' umpb, affection and sorrow at her own blind- ness in the past. But the presence of strangers and the solem- nity of the occasion prevented her from saying or doing anytbing bat use ber eyes, and Tom's. back was turned to her, so sbe could not be seen by bim. Tom, on his part, wrote on quietly, and when he had inserted the name in the aifferent places, and the old judge had signed, he turned to- Punch Burleson and asked bim to come and wit- ness the will. ‘ Punch was better used to wielding a quirt. than a pen, but he contrived to get bis spraw}- ing signature on the foot of the parchment; and Deaf Smith, who wrote a very fair hand. and had once taught a schoo! in Alabama, effixe his sign manual below Punch’s, , Then the judge smiled, as if his mind wes eenet, and fell back on his pillows, saying to ‘om: _ “Takecare of that, and don't let it out of your possession. In cs#se of trouble, take it with. you. Irely on you to protect my daugbters from that man Berkeley. Lam convinced that. he means us all harm. Now, if you will let. me, doctor, I will try to rest a little, for l am tired.” ‘He spoke with a faintness that showed he was weaker than he had allowed it to appear, and the room was cleared in short order. when the old man sunk into an uneasy slumber under the influence of an anodyne, administered by the. young doctor. - Then the ranchers went off to their owr ‘places, and quiet reigned over the Collingsworth inch till latein the afternoon, when the judge. wee up and found Helen in the room by his side. He Icoked around uneasily. ““Whereis Di??? “ Here, sir,” said a low voice, and Diana came forward from where she bad been hidden by the. old-fashioned bed-curtains, The girl bad evidently been crying, and the- old man asked her, kindly: “Why do you cry, child? Iam going to get. well, the doctor says, if I get over the next Uhree- days. Whereis Field?” Diana flushed in spite of her father’s eye. ‘*He has gone away. He said he would be- back in the afternoon.” 2 “Ts not that the sound of his horse?” asked the wounded man, as the sound of a borse’s feet, at full gallop, was heard without. Diana went to the window to look, andsaw the man she bad thought a coward coming in at a gallop, while bis horse was covered with foam, as if it had been ridden fast and far. and seemed to be Yer well sati:fied, for he pro- nounced the eres ing better than he bad “@ » sf ted, an _* You m 3 You have got over the fever, and the we le
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26 ‘has actually begun toshow symptoms of heal- ding. By the by, sir, it is quite possible that I «may not be able to be here to-morrow, and I ~want to say that there is nothing that the best surgeon could do for you, save to keep you up with whisky, if you are weak, and to dress the wound in the way I shall show your daugbters.” He spoke to Helen, as if she was the one he meant; but Diana came forward and watched him as he took off the lint that had been placed over the little round hole that showed the track ‘of Tomlinson’s bullet. Very luckily for the judge, it had gone clear through the body; so that there was no fear of inflammation from the lodgment of the ball. The young doctor showed them how to put the little pledgets of wet linen over the hole, and how to raise the patient in doing it; for he Ahad become too weak to raise himself now from the loss of blood. Bandages were useless from the position of the hurt; but the holes were small, and the dressing very simple. A little adhesive plaster to hold the. wet linen on was all that was needed. The patient was too weak to heed much that “was going on at the time; but he heard what the doctor said about “not coming the next day,” and asked, in an uneasy tone: ‘What’s the matter? what’s the matter, doctor? Are you going to neglect me, now that I’ve made my will? 1 can change it, you know —I can change it.” He was very weak and nervous, and the doctor placed his hand on the wounded man’s head, saying, soothingly: ‘Don’t worry over it, sir; don’t worry over it. Itis not certain all; but 1 will come if lam not prevented. I will tell the young ladies, and they shall say if I may not be detained without vany neglect of you,” one favored him with a quick glance, and said: ‘*l am sure, father, that he would not neglect "you; but be has some trouble of his own that may keep him away from us. [ will ask him, ‘and tell you.” Then, with a look at Helen that showed the two understood each other, she swept out of the. room, and as soon as they were in the dark pas- sage she asked him, quickly: “What is it? Ican beapit. Ican bear any- thing. I am not the coward you think me. “More may be mistaken than one, you know.” He smiled down on her; for be knew what she wmeant, as well as if she had said it openly. ‘The fact is,” he said, in a low tone, “ that ‘man at the company’s ranch is going to make all the trouble he can for me, It seems that all bis men were sworn in special constables, and that the man I had to shoot was one of them. He has nave nly up a charge against me of resisting an officer, and murdering him in the line of bis duty. I may be arrested for that to- morrow; but, if I am, it will be worse for bim.” ‘Why?’ she asked timidly, as if she did not understand what he meant. ‘‘T mean that your father will live,” he said ~with triumph in bis eye that was not there be- fore. ‘If be can on y be kept quiet and this “news hidden from him, he will be allright. That ‘is why [ dare not tell him. It would excite him sand perhaps bring on the fever again. In a week he will be strong enough to know it, In the mean time, please remember this: my life depends on his recovery, and that is another incentive to me to bring bim out all safe,” * And to me to purse him siggy ees obey your orders,” she said quietly. ‘ But why do “you say that?” : “‘ Because be is the only witness who saw the whole transaction between me and Tomlinson,” gaid Field. ‘lf 1 am tried for murder, your father’s testimony will show that I acted in ‘self-defense and that the man [ killed was a murderer himself. But, to keep your father quiet is the thing now, and the reason I called you out is because you ladies can make up stories better than we can, to account for things to sick people. Iflam not bere at this time to-morrow afternoon, you will know either that I have been arrested or that I have had to leave the county to escape arrest, If it is the latter, ‘which is the most probable, I shall be back in a week at the furthest, and may be here in two days. Can you keep tbe secret?” : “JT will try,” she said, with an effort to ap- pear brave. Then, in the most inconsequent ‘way in the world she burst out sobbing, and went back into the room whence she bad come, to the astonishment and dismay of the doctor. But he bad no time to investigate the phe- ‘nomena of ladies moods, for, as he said, bis life was in danger while Berkeley could invoke the jaw to his aid, even in Texas, erode away to Satanstown to see his friend, Dr. Horsford, while the two Collingsworth girls concocted a scheme that, for boldness and originality, after- ward »excited the admiration of the whole county. What it was we shall see very soon, CHAPTER XXX. A HOT CHASE, Tne office of Mr. Belshazzar Levy, in Satans- ‘town, was well ling place of the only law- had yet dared to set up his shingle in known, throngbout Satanta gounty, os the abidi _ yer who Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. : that home of the festive cowboy. Satanstown was by no means the ideal home for a lawyer, for the office of city marshal was one that was rarely filled for more than*three weeks by the same man, and homicides were the only cases in which Mr. Levy was called on to figure. And Mr. Levy always appeared for the defendant, so that his sympathies were natur- ally directed against the enforcement of the law, rather than in the cause of order. Therefore, when Mr, Leuy was accosted by a strange gentleman and requested to appear “for the county of Satanta, to prosecute a man who had shot an officer in the discharge of bis duty,” he was naturally very much aston- ished, and said hesitatingly: - ** Why don’t you go to the district attorney?” His new client was a well-known personage in the county, as the overseer of the great cattle company, and Levy had to be civil, for the company was known to have unlimited capital at its command; but bis surprise made him ask the question. Berkeley answered him at once: ‘*T was told that you were the best man ‘in town for my case, and we are prepared to pay well.’ Belshazzar screwed up his eyes, and only said: ‘‘Hem! How well?” The visitor laid a bill on the table, with a capital ‘‘D” in the corner. “There is your retainer,” he said. ‘‘ That is as well as the opposition wotld pay. Isn’t it?” The lawyer’s eyes glittered at the sight, for a single bundred was the largest retainer he bad ever yet received, in his experience of Satans- town, “Tl take the cause,” he said quickly, as he pocketed the bill. ‘‘Give me tbe facts as soon as youcan, Whois the man?” erkeley sat down and began, in a clear sys- tematic way: ‘The man who was killed was Jack Tomlin- son, He was a special constable, sworn in be- fore Judge Concha, in this town, to ‘protect the property of the company. In the execution of bis duty, he tried to arrest a man of the name of Field, who bad been recognized, the night before, as one of the fence-cutters, who did all that damage, which the county will have to pay for. I saw the whole affair, and the officer was shot by this desperado,” Mr, Levy screwed up his face worse than ever, as he said, in the dryest of tones: ** Now, my dear sir, you are my client; but it is no use my being your eet ine unless you will give me your confidence, This Tomlinson wes pretty well known here, and the public will be against punishing any man who has killed him. Are you sure of your case?’ Have you any wit- nesses?” **None but myself. I saw him fire the shot, and saw Tomlinson fall.” “What witnesses will he have?’ asked the lawyer in the sametone. ‘‘ Was there no one else about, at the time?” ‘*No one,” said Berkeley, with an air of Some- thing very like triumph. ‘‘ Tomlinson bad just arrested a man they call Judge Collingsworth, who had been in the same affair, and had bad to kill him for resisting the arrest. Collingsworth was the only man but myself who was near, and he is dead.” Levy faced his client a ny , remarking: “‘That wasa very lucky thing for you, sir, But are you sure that he is dead?” Berkeley laugbed, with a sneer on his lip. ‘: Just so sure as this, that I went to bis house, 4his morning, to arrest him, and found the cra on the door. The funeral takes place to-day. The lawyer thought a minute and then said: “Very well, I will take the case. Do you know where the man is?” ‘In this very town, I saw him on thestreet, not an hour ago, He knows me well enough, and stared at me, as ifthe wanted to provoke a quarrel wtth me, but I know when and where to quarrel. What bave I got to do now?” “T will draw up tbe affidavit, and you will swear to it before Judge Concha, who will give us the order of arrest. Have you any men -to execute it? The man who killed Tomlinson must be a pretty hard case, you know—ab, Mr. Berkeley.” Berkeley smiled. ‘*T will execute it myself, if you please, [ came here on purpose.” Levy surveyed biw with an air of approval. * Yes, I think you will do. I will draw the affidavit at once,” was all he said. : He heard the tramping of horses and the jin- _gie of accouterments outside the office window, ae he judged correctly that the posse was out- side. ea He set to work with the rapidity of a man who kvows that he is earning a large sum of money easily, and when he had finished, be took Berkeley over to the office of a dark, greasy in- dividual, who'rejoiced in the name of Cuncha, and in Mexican extraction. Judge Concha and Levy were old friends and understood each other wel], The business was transacted in a very short time, and the war- ' rant was drawn up and given into the hands of | threw up bis rifle for a his followers, ‘‘to execute the mandates of the | County of Satanta, to apprehend the body of ! Thomas Field, of the said county, and produce | the same before the said justice of the peace forthwith.” Armed with this formidable paper, the Eng- lishman sallied forth into the street, and saw a borseman at the corner below, who made a sig- nal with bis hand and pointed to a house before which he was sitting on bis pony. : Berkeley rode down the street with all his men, and was followed by a large mob of people who had caught wind of what was going on and wanted to see tht fun. The population of Satanstown was composed largely of gamblers and saloon-keepers, who had little sympathy with the ranchers and cowboys, and Tomlinson bad come from the town, where he was idolized by a certain class, Therefore the opinion of the puble of the town was de- cidedly against Field, who was said to be in the hous* indicated by the man on watch for him, having been traced there, Berkeley went to the door and tried it. It was not locked, and be went in at once and traversed the house with his posse, searching for the man who had killed Tomlinson, The house belonged to the pbysician of the place, Dr. Horsford, and Tom bad gone there in broad daylight, so that it was thought sure that be would be found without any difficulty. The doctor came to meet them as soon as he heard the footsteps, and asked them what they wanted, Berkeley told him, and Horsford smiled, as he said: “* My dear sir, you are too late. The gentle- man was*herea few minutes ago, and he left “7 house to go to bis ranch; so he said,” erkeley swore a round oath. “ How did he get out?” — “He went by the back door, toward the country. He told me that he anticipated a dif- ficulty if be went out the front way, because the street was full of bullies of the cattle com- pany. You will find bim somewbere—” But Berkeley waited to hear no more, for he ’ | pushed his way past the coctor, and went out through the back gate, to find if Horsford had told the truth. The town was built on a single street, and the backs of many of the houses abutted on the open prairie. Horsford’s did this, among the rest; and the Englishman saw, across the green grass, riding leisurely along as if he saw no need of hurry, the object of bis pursuit. To hurry his horse; sweep down the street at full speed; thence out into the plain, after the fugitive; was the work of a very few minutes. hen they saw the man before them, without turning his head, put bis horse into a canter, as if he knew they were coming and had eyes in the back of his head, Berkeley seb spurs to bis own horse, and swept on, in pursuit, while his men raised a yell in the hope of intimidating the fugitive. But the man before them never turned his head, riding on at the same easy canter, and having a gvod mile the start of them all, They gained on him slowly; but their borses had to use their utmost speed to do it, while he kept at a canter, till they had reduced the dis- tance to a quarter of a wile, a gain that distance, they had to gallop five miles, Then they began to open fire on him, as they rode; but to no effect, for the shots, fired, at that range, at a galloping horse, from another in equally swift motion, were thrown away, in most cases, One or two sent the dust up above the feet of the pony in front; but that was the worst, Then, ofa sudden, while they were still fir- ing, a flash came from the fugitive’s back, and re by of a bullet showed that be was fight- ng back. et he had not evep turned his head to look at them, though the bullet went so close to the head of Berkeley’s pony, that the animal shied and nearly threw its rider, who had not ex- pected the ef and was leaning eagerly over the pony’s neck, The bullet, in passing, cut a hole in the hat of one of Berkeley’s mea, and produced a sort of superstitious panic. ad the man in front turned his head, the ef- fect would rot have been so great, but to bave a marksman who could come so close without even seeing the mark be aim.d at, was what scared the men. Before the surprise had fairly unas down, the greater part of the pursuers had pulled in their horses, and the es bad gained a good hundred yards on all but Berkeley, who raced on, barder than ever. As he went, he | fired sbot after shot, from bis Winchester, as | they could see the dust clouds, all round the _beelsofthe pony. — Sf | Then came auotber flash from the mysterious | man, and Berkeley’s pony went down, head | ! over heels into the grass, sending its rider after } it, The Englishman scrambled up, and instantl: ' . for ad Berkeley, who was sworn in, with a number og ¢ley was no coward, and the best qualities of
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: z Wa ry ¥ (7 an: Pb ae ise: lan BS a ise Pay heen Ae Msp cats Ae eee Say + EP is ak Dig bcd! i Neath Minas oe Ps ee) a Be 4 a ee Or iee Pile ot ‘stea ee =< ae Tanne . ” ee ay w pr. - ier his courage came out new, when he was almost -discomfited. He had one shot left, and*it was bis business not to throw that away. To stop the fugitive it was necessary to Kill his -horse, and at the animal the aim of the English overseer was directed, Tom Field, in advance, saw bim in the mir- ror, which he had inserted. in the stock of his rifle, in the manner of a folding-sight, so that he could fire at an object behind him, without the trouble of adjusting the mirror by the eye. It was mechanically fixed, so that the object seeen in the mirror must be under the aim of the rifle, ‘ Tom saw the Englishman in the mirror throw up his rifle and instantly aimed bis own weapon back at him, It was a perilous shot from the back of the galloping horse; but the trained pony was easy as a rocking-chair. Tom had practiced the art of quick shooting, ever since he had received bis lesson from Tom- linson, at the ranch, up by the Indian territory. His life depended on it, and he fired just be- fore Berkeley. The_ flash of his own piece ob- scured his vision for an instant; but he felt the sting of a bullet as it eeeed his right thigh, sbewing that Berkeley had missed the horse, and as be turned his head to look round, the Englisbm in had fallen on the grass, and the men who had come after Tom were galloping up to Berkeley with every appearance of excitement. The chase was over for the time; for, though ‘he saw Berkeley rise and point after him, the men would not follow, and Tom Field galloped away victor, after bis first fight with numbers, His shot had struck Berkeley in the leg at the very moment of firing his piece, causing a mo- mentary tremor and the loss cf the shot, while the English overseer bad dropped from the shock, and found that a bullet had grazed bis -Knee-cap. He cursed, with a virulence that amazed the ‘Texans, who bad thought him a man of such Aignity that be never swora, and as soon as he had gotten a fresh horse, went back to town, determined to organize a hunt for Tom that should make the county too hot to hold him. But in this, as other things, he reckoned too fast. rs CHAPTER XXXI. THE PRISONER SURRENDERS. -A WEEK bad passed by, and Satanta county was all agog with the news that there had been a fight with the Indians of the Territory, and that a large number of men, belonging tu the great Glasgow Cattle Company, had been killed Ain the fight. j At first it was certain that this had happened, ‘and that the English lord, who had cut such a spread in the country, had been among the ’ lain, while the red savages were coming down, like a swarm of locusts, to murder and plunder everything they could find in the county. Then the report was condensed to the state- ments of people who had heard from eye-wit- nesses, that the Indians had bad nothing to do with the matter at all, and.that it was all a desperado, who bad been bunted down by a sheriff’s posse into the Territory. Then came the news that nobody had been killed, but that quite a number had been wound- ed, and that the Eaglish lord was among the number. Finally, a man who wore the company’s uni- form was caught on the streets of Satanstown, and asked what the trouble was all about. He declined to answer at first, but, after a few drinks, at the expense of the curious, vouch- safed the ioformation that “‘ he and his friends jhad been on a wild goose chase, ’way up to the Injun Territory, where they had been buntin’ ‘for a man who was said to live there, and that the bad taken refuge in the Territory, where they couldn’t get at bim nobow.” That was all he knew ‘‘ except that he didn’t want no more sich rides, on an empty stum- anick,” ae Then a rumor spread round the county that the man who had killed Tomlinson had come back and had shown himself on the streets of Satanstown, at night, and in a bar-room. That he should have gone into a bar-room was not the surprising thing to the minds of the men of the town, but it was the character of the first order that he had given, that was the topic of wonder. For the stranger had ‘taken a glass of water, and had drank it, in lain sight of the bar keeper, when every man ‘in the room was expecting to bear bim call for whisky straight, at the very least. He bad bad all his weapons on, and had talk- ed with the bar-keeper about the cattle com- pany, and whether any of its men were in town ‘that night,: et Da There were none; for the company was en- gaged in the task of erecting a new fence, around t of its property, and wanted all its ‘men on its own ground at night. The barrier around the Collingsworth Ranch was the only remnant of the original fence left; cand that bad been undisturbed since the famous first night : of the fence-cutters. The Saat at the msan who shot Tomlinson posts pull Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. bad come back append rapidly, and reached the ears of Captain Berkeley the next day, when he immediately set off for the town to investigate, and traced the stranger to a place éalled the “ White Elephant,” where drinks of all kinds were dispensed to the thirsty and moneyed men of the county, on a cash basis. But that was all Berkeley could do. What had become of the man, and where he bad gone, no one knew, or if they knew, they would not tell. He bad come in, called fora glass of water, and had treated a party of men from the neighboring ranches, after which be had gone away, and the men had gone with him. Asked who the other men were, the bar-keep- er professed ignorance, though he knew every man in the county by sight or reputation. | Berkeley had to go from the saloon without ! the coveted information, and, as he rode home, saw Punch Burleson with a party of his friends riding from the prairie to the town, as if they had business there. The feeling between the ranchers and the men of the company had grown to that pitch now that neither party ven- tured out of their own territory save in large parties, and on this occasion the party of the ranchers was a little the larger of the two. As Punch rode into the street of Satanstown he saw Berkeley at the other end of the street, and waved his hand to the Englishman, as a signal that he desired to speak to him. Berkeley, not knowing @hat to make of this, halted bis horse, and brought bis pistols a little more to the front. Punch came up, evidently in a pacific mood, and as soon as he was near enough to be heard, he called out: ‘* You’re Captain Berkeley, ain’t you, sir?” “Yes,” said the captain, coldly. ‘* What is it, sir?” as “ve got a message fur you, from the gen- tleman as killed Tomlinson,” said Punch coolly, ™ He axed me to say to ye that he’s a-comin’ down to surrender himself to-morrer, and that he ain’t goin’ to run no more. That’s all, sir. He'll be byar ct nine o’clock in the morning, afore the jedge hyer—Concha’s his name, I b’lieve.” “ And where is he now?” asked Berkeley. Punch grinned, as he replied: é **T dunno, sir. He didn’t tell me whar he were. I’ve given my message, and that’s all I know.” : , The Englishman bit his lip, as he said: ’ “Then bave you any objections to saying where you saw him, sir? I suppose he didn’t spring out of the ground, did he?” - Punch shrugged his shoulders as he answered: “Waal, naow, that air a queerious idee, Cap. Aout of the graound? No, sir; he didn’t spring aout of nograound. He come over the preerie, like a good man sbould, on a good boss, and carryin’ a d lot of weepins. Whar did I meet him? aal, if ye wanter know very bad, Ill tell ye, fa’r and squar’. I met him at my own house, and I’ve jest come from thar.” The Englishman bowed politely, as he an- swe “Thank you very much, sir. Good- x.” Then he rode away, and as soon as he got home, called a caucus of all his men, and direct- ed a close watch to be kept over Punch Burle- son’s house that night. He would bave gone in on asearch- warrant, but to have done so would have been to provoke a useless quarrel, and it was probable that Punch had told bim the story on purpose to throw him off his d. ‘At all events, it was a pln: ot thing that Punch did not come home that night, and that the guards around his house heard shots, in the direction of the log-paluce of the company, about-midnight. . The captain had given orders that as soon as shots were heard, it was to be the duty of every man on the estate to ride there, as soon as pos- sible, and join in the fight. Accordingly, the guards around Punch’s house put spurs to their horses, and rode in the direc- tion of the firing, when they saw the flashes that told of a bot engagement, and the dark figures on the prairie of two distinct bodies of horsemen, round the fence that encircled the ranch of the late Judge Collingsworth. ‘ They dasbed in to the rescue, and found their own men engaged with a body of horsemen, who outnumbered them considerably, so that er were giving way and running, he arrival of the guards from Punch Burle- son’s restored the fight in a measure, for, almost immediately, there was heard a whistle, and the men on the other side turned their horses, and fled in all directions. But the cattle com- any’s men were in no condition to pursue. bey had lost several men killed, and the rest had seen enough of their 5 arom to know that a chase in the dark was likely to cost them more than it was worth, . They settled to their work again, and found that the party that had brought on the fight had beeh the night-riders of Satanta county, and had wrecked the wires around the ranch of the late judge, as completely as such a thing could bedove. The wires had been cut between every two posts, all around, and half of the up, while the raiders had carried i a nT REE I as — = Ze 27 away all their dead and wounded, if they had any, which no one could tell. Berkeley, who had had command of the whole affair, was furious at the slack watch which had permitted the loss; for if, seemed that the damage had been done before the guards around the ranch had given the alarm. But there was no use in swearing over the mat- ter; and the overseer had, long before, deter- mined_to make the eounty pay for the loss, if there was any Jaw in Texas, which he was as- sured there was, So he contented bimself with resolving to get the revenge he could out of Tom Field; the next day, and with that, rode home, The next morning, early, he was on bis way to town, with every man he could rake to- gether to ride with him. He knew that Field would not have sent him the message he had, if be had not determined to come surrounded by his friends; and Berkeley bad taken the precau- tion to get the town on hisside, as far as he could by sending emissaries who would get ‘‘ the boys” on bis side, As he neared the town, he saw a large caval- cade coming toward the place, from another direction, and ‘immediately cautioned bis men to get ready, in case they saw Field, to “jump bim” at once. The captain had learned the meaning of the Texan slang pretty well by this time, and could employ it Se oe But he had no chance to “‘ jump” Field, for Field was not there, when he got near enough to see the men who composed the cavalcade, There were Punch Burleson, Deaf Smith, Colonel Callahan, Limpy Balstrop, and all the other ranchers of Satanta county, and, in tbe midst of the cavalcade, rode two ladies, beside a horse-litter of the old Mexican pattern, in- side of which lay the figure of a man, who had evidently been hurt severely, from the fact that he was lying on the pillows, and not dressed, savein a shirtand white trowsers,loose and easy. At first Berkeley thought that it was a scheme to deceive him, and that Tom Field was con- cealed in the litter; but, as be rode nearer, he saw, with inexpressible amrezement, that the man in the litter was Judge Collingsworth, whom he thought dead, and at whose funeral he had been a witness. It was the judge beyond a doubt, and he saw the Englishman; for, as Berkeley rode near, the old man turned bis eyes that way, and Berkeley saw him smile, as if something amused him greatly. In fact it was only that morning that the judge had heard of the trick, of which he and the captain bad been made the simultaneous vic- tims, To make B rkeley believe he was out of dan- ger from the p ce of the judge as a witness, the girls had arranged a mock funeral from the house, and bad actually buried an a ad coffin, followed -by a file of mourners, till t could enjoy the triumph of bringing their father out, as @witness, in court, as they were about to do now. As soon as the Englishman saw the judge alive, he realized that the: game was up, as far as the prosecution of Tom for the murder of Tomlinson was concerned, and turned his head away, to escape the eyes of the judge and the sense of his own humiliation, at being outwit- ted. en he beard the jeers of the poi a hi they laughed uproariously to each other, with- out uttering a word. But Berkeley understood them, and his face oe: like that of « corpse, with the restrained ury of the man, as he rode on, without turning The self-restraint of his English aristocratic breeding saved bim from exhibiting any emo- tion, At’ last they got to the court, and the men of the cattle company crowded into the court-room —it was but a small place at best—with the hope of crowding out Field’s friends. Each man had bis pistol under bis coat, ready for a free fight, which be thougbt to be impending. But there was no figbt to come off that day. Just as the cowboys of the company settled themselves, to crowd out anybody who might try to get aseat, the door at the back of the littte court-room opened, end the fat and olive- tinted Concha made bis oleaginous appearance, and said; . “De gentlemens vill please come to order in de court. De case is dat of de county of Satan- ta against Thomas Field, De constable vill bring de prisoner into de court,” Berkeley rose in surprise and stared at the door, from which emerged no less a person than Hank the Nailer, with bis weapons on, accom- panied by Tom Field, who was armed with equal perfection. : “Hyar’s the prisoner, jedge,” said Hank quietly. Concha nodded. : ‘* Were is de counsel for de people?” he asked. And up jumped Mr. Belshazzar Levy, erying: ** Please your honor, I appear for the people.” CHAPTER XXXIL “You vill Bg yao git ” said Concha, without casting a look ut the lawyer, though +
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_ friend of mine, 28 they had been particular friends, that very morning. Levy produced his affidavits, and read tham to the open court, by which it appeared that Tomlinson had been a regular officer of the law, and that the prisoner bad assaulted and mur- dered him, in the execution of his duty. hen the judge turned to Field, to ask: “Vell, vat you say to dat, young man?” Tom answered: : “Simply that I kilied the man in self-de- fenss, He had just shot down a very dear udge Collingsworth. It was to prevent the murder of the judge, that I in- terfered, and we fought the fight fairly. I did not know that he claimed to be an officer of the law, when he was acting a desperado’s part.” ‘““Haf you any vitmess to svear dat de.man dat vas dead fired de first shot?” “No, sir, he didn’t,” said Tom, to the sur- prise of the Englishman who had expected the reverse, ‘‘If be had, I should not have been here to-day. The man was, as you are aware, a splendid shot, and if he had got the dropon me, it would have been all day with me, as they say here. I was riding over the prairie to see my friend Judge Collingsworth, when I saw the man, that I afterward killed, ride up to bim. A very few words passed between them and then he shot the judge down without ae word of warning, as I was coming close. I shouted at him to deter his aim and save the judge’s life, but it wasin vain. The judge was shot. Then he turned on me, and I knew that it was a duel to the death, We fired all the shots out of our Wincbesters, and it was when we had reloaded that I shot bis horse, and the battle really commenced. He tried a trick on me by shamming dead, and nearly caught me; but I got the best of him at last, aud sbot him down, as he was coming to kill me. That is all, sir. O’d Concha smiled, with an expression of sardouic contempt as he observed: “Dat jis veree ptettee story, young man. Meester Levy, call your vitness.” Berkeley 1‘ose, and said quietly: ‘*T can say no more than I have said, already, I saw the murder, and the man has just con- fessed that he sbot down the officer in cold blood. He was in the execution of his duty. {fs not that enough?” Levy put bis band on his client’s arm to whis- per: ** Now, that is all right, you know; but ifT am your lawyer, I must conduct this case.” _ Then he turned to the judge to say: “If the prisoner has no witnesses to offer, I submit, your honor, that we have proved our case and move his committal at once.” Olt Concha turned his eyegon Field. _ “Vell, haf you no vitness to bear up vat you say? If not, I shall haf tocommit you.” ‘I have one,” said Tom, Baek “ Your friend, there, admits that Judge Co lingsworth saw the whole transaction—” Levy burst out laughing asif he could not contain his contempt for the stratagem of the other. ; “ Admit!” be cried. “ We admit nothing! wey, man, you said yourself that the judge was ed, “TI said no such thing,” said Tom, sharply. “T said he was shot. So he was. I attended him, for I am a doctor, and I managed to get him over the wound. He is out of danger now and if it had been safe before to-day I should have surrendered long ago. He has been brought here, and is outside the court-room, If ou’ll.order those bullies of the cattle company get out of those seats, judge, and let some =" take their places, be can be brought nto court.” The cattle men on the seats rose as by one con- sent and Jaid their hands on their weapons, when the judge, with an active dodge under the cover of bis desk, roared: “Order in de court! Goot Got! gentlemen, do not forget vere you are! Constable, clear de court,” f The sight of Hank, the Nailer, and Tom Field who had thrown their Winchester rifles for- ward, and were eying the crowd of bullies be- low as if to catch the first man that drew a pistol, had more tg do with quieting the excite- ment than anything else. It did not pay to re- sent the thing then, and the cattle men sat down again. Berkeley, with a bitter scowl at Tom, said, as he rose to leave the room: “Confound the luck, Ill_be even with you yet, sir,” Then he said to Levy in an under- : 4 tone: : Give up the case. The man’s told the truth. The old judge is alive. I saw him in the street not a minute ago. He will tell his story.” Levy shrugged his shoulders, as he replied: * My dear sir, if you will not trust your law- er, what can I do? If you had told me that : fore I opened, I would never have started Then he rose and said to Concha: “Your honor, we are compelled to enter a nolle prosequt. y client bas gro seen the dge alive, and of course he wi 6 story of his confederate yonder, We d that this see ae cold-blooded 1 corroborate murder from revenge, but we can’t overcome the assurance that swears to things, as this man bas done, and brings forward his friends to belp him out. ‘ We drop the case.” So saying, he gathered up his papers and went out of court, while the greasy and olive- tinted judge, who was profoundly mystified by the whole affair, turned to the young man, and said to him: 2 ‘*Vat is all dis about? Who vas it keeled who? Iam astonished.” Tom smiled, for he saw the character of the man—a pompous ignoramus—at a glance, and replied, as he shook hands with him, leaving a ten-dollar gold-piece in the palm: ‘‘It means that the enemy have abaridoned | the case, sir, and that the boot is on the other foot. You will see that the clerk enters the order?” ’ The fat judge, whose earrings as justice were small, stniled all over bis dark face as he clutch- ed the coin, and exclaimed: ‘* My dear sare, of coorse, of coorse. an eenfamia—a maldita conspiracia against a gentleman. I veel see to it.” Then Tom and his friend, Hank, the Nailer, went down to the street, and found that the cattle company party had taken their depsr- ture; for it was not in Berkeley’s nature to waste time overa fight that promised no re- sults, As for Tom Field, be was received, below, with opev arms, bys friends; and rode, with the rest of them, to the Collingsworth Ranch, where they had a grand jollification, which was witnessed by the old Judge, who saw it froma hammock, bung under a Jive-oak tree, on the lawn that lay before the house. His wound was in a fair way of healing, and be bad had Tt was sat beside him, while Helen was doing the hon- ors to the guests, as they drank the judge’s health and quick recovery. N»> one'had fears that he would not get well now; for they were used to the cases of mon who had received des- perate wounds and yet recovered, by the aid of | plenty of Texas fresh air and the strong constitu- tion of the rancher who lives his life in the sau- dle. Thea young surgeon, who had made such a stride trom persecution to popularity, was among the guests, and Diana’s eyes followed him everywhere, with a look that: her father | noted, as he had never noted it before. Presently he said to her: ‘*Di, what are you looking at?” The color in her face showed Lim what it was, but she said, hastily: ssf Nothing, sir, nothing. f was only think- ing—” ® And that’s what makes you colar so, ebild?” he asked with a smile. ‘‘Nay, don’t get so red, or I shall have to call the doctor, to see if you have a fever. That’s a very fine young fellow, Di, isn’t he?” She tried to look indifferent, as she answered: ‘He is a friend of yours, sir; and that is enough for me.” “Yes,” remarked the judge, with a slight chuckle, “he is a friend of mine, as you say. By the by, Di, what would you say if I told you that [ thought of taking bim into partner- ener he looked up quickly and asked bim: ‘**Do you think of it, really, sir?” “Yes,” said the judge. ‘‘ The fact is that I had a talk with him this morning after he had dressed my wound. [ actually asked him if he would like to renew the offer be made me some time ago to buy a share of the ranch, I refused it then. You know I thought that he had not the pluck that a Texas rancher requires, espectally in the fight with this cattle company, I bave seen reason to change my mind since then, Di, and I was not ashamed to let bim know it, But what do you suppose be said?” “Pm sure I bave not the remotest idea, sir,” she said, with an assumption of still greater in- difference, and picking at her handkerchief. he judge smiled. “I must say that for a man who generally is considerate of the feelings of others, he is the most impudent young fellow I ever met. He actually put a condition on the renewal of his offer, And what'do you suppose it was, Di?” “1m sure J don’t know, sir—why do you ask me ?” she said, with a face that was now the color of a peony, and an air of embarrassment that contradicted her words, ‘* You must think I take a great deal of interest in gentlemen, sir,” The old man looked at bis daughter with a certain fondness that be nad never shown be- fore, as hb said, in a grave and serious tone: “PH not joke any more, child. He told me that he loved you, and that his condition was that I would give my consent to yourgmarriage with him. I told him that in those matters I must leave you to your own heart. And then he asked me to—” psec What?’ she demanded, with -a hightened color, and a look in her eyes that showed she did not like what be was saying. ‘ Not to ask « nothing to excite him that day, for-the enemy | had given up the fight in advance. The old man lay in the hammock, surveying the scene with a smile. and his daughter Diana | Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. © | ; Coca a nme nose TOR Sa einen nntren aN A ns Ey me did be? Because if be did, I say no—at once— no—decidedly NO!” And the girl frowned, in a way that amused: her father, who replied: ; ** And why, in the name of common sense, child?” ; ‘* Because,” said Diana, with a tossof heF hend,. ** that question should be asked of me, and not of you, beforehand. T don’t like your wooers that want to be sure before they speak.” ‘“Who said anything about speaking?” asked the judge with an assumption of great surprise. ‘**Tl’m sure J didn’t, child. I was going to telk you what he said, and you burst in on me, in,. I must say, a very disrespectful way. If you don’t want to hear it, of course that ends the matter.” Diana sat silent fora few moments, and the color went and came on her cheek, while the old man watched her, with the same amused smile, ormhis face, thinking of the time, long ago, whem her mother bad looked just like her. At last she murmured: “7 thoagbt—I imagined—that is—I—what: did he say, then, if it was uot that?” “Was not what?” he asked, with mischievous enjoyment of her confusion. ‘Pray explain what you mean.” : Diana looked up at him and her glance dis- armed bim as she whispered: ‘* Don't tease, pa; I can't bear it. wick,” The judge’s face softened, as be looked on his: wert A and he said, gravely: “This is what he said: Tell your daughter, sir, that she was right in her estimation of my character.\.I am a coward where [I am greatly interested and I would give my life for one smile from ber, I dare not ask her the uestion I would ask, till I know one thing.. Joes she despise me, as she once did?’ Diana started, as she ejaculated: * Despise him! Why. what put that into his head? As if I could despise the man who. saved my father’s fife! No, [ don’t despise bint, sir, if that is allhe wants to know.” “Then, that is all that he did,” replied+the judge in the most matter of-fact way. ‘By the by, my dear, will you go and tell the deetor that my wound feels very feverish, and that I should like to go indoors out of tbe air.” Diana obeyed at once, for the appeal took her on the point where the inyalid was the king of the place. She actually sought out the doctor— a thing she would have dared on no other: plea, and told bim what her father bad said, He im- mediately rose and said te ber as be went: ‘* Please to come with me, then. He wants yon too.”, The girl hesitated, and bung back, ut there were too many eyes on her to disobey or show avy consciousness of what she felt was coming. Very soon sbe stood by the bammock, and found the young doctor there, while the fever that the old man bad made the excuse to get ber cff seemed to have left the wound, and bad flown to ber own veins, for she was olternalely red and pale, as she came forward to the ham mock, As soon as she was near, the judge said: ‘Doctor, I asked the young lady the question you requested, and she assures me that she has no contempt for you, but on the eontrary, the highest respect. The rest you must ask your- self, she says.” ; ; ; Diana flushed redder than ever, as she cried out, in a tone of oubenere ‘““! didn’t say anything of the sort—I mean—EI —It is a shame to tease me so, a3 The old gentleman Jay back in bis hammeck, while the young man, who bad been the cause of the trouble, spoke out in bis grave, quiet way as if be had sometbing to say which demanded a hearing: “Miss Diana,” he said, ‘I bave told your father that there is only one condition on which 1 can ever become a partner in this ranch, after what has just happered. I have loved you, ever since | saw you, and it bas been my whole study to please you. Do you think that you would be bappy to be my wife, and have me around all the time? If you would, I offer you my hand and heart, and with them the assur ance that I know, now, that you will not be marrying a coward,” Diana heard the words, and she could not but own that the man who could say sueh a thing before another must have considerable courage, But sbe had made up her mind what to do, and raised her eyes to bis, to say: ‘Mr. Field, I was once very rude to you; an@ T have regretted it ever since. Imadea grave mistake about you, and I will try to repair iv. for the rest of my life, by loving you, as you deserve to beloved. Now, sir, am I a coward, either?” ; , He smiled as he answered her: Tell me “I never said you were, Di. You are the woman 1 love, above all the world,” ante THE END.
Page 29
q] BEADLE'’S*T )IME*] IBRARY. Fublished Every Wednesday. Hach Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform*Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers. BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR. , (eZ, é o99 Old Sobersides, the Detective of St» Louis. a 925 White-Horse Wheeler, the Revenue Detective. be $18 The Double Edged Detective. iia ‘907 Maverick Mark. the Man from Nowhere. : 898. silky steele, the Stay-in Sport, { 884 T e Spotter -Sport’s Neck-Tie Party, 870 High-Water Mark; or, Silver-Tip Sid. [362 Riata\ Rob, the Range ( Champion. § , 855 The C ovhoy, Chief's Sure-Shot. . Piva “848 The Rival Red-Hat Sports. rt 5 Curly Kid, the Cheyenve Sport. : The Sof, Hand Detective. 815 The Soft Kund’s Clutch. Dan Ducn the Soft-Hand Sport. \Y96 Toe Frisco Detective’s nla: -Tdngle. .89 Sam Cary, the River § ‘80 Toe Dead Sport’s Dou ee , (71 Prince Jaa Oe Denver Special. "63 Dandy Don, the Denver Detective. Lae ¥54%he Man from Texas; or, Dangerfield. tho Pee Doctor Detective. : 44 Sweepstakes Sam, the Silver Sport. “ 720 The Secret Six; oe ie The Man of Stik. 705 Bantam Bob, the Beauty from Butte. €98 Kent Kasson, the Preacher Sport. 683 Bob Breeze, the Rounder Detective, 675 Steel Surry, the Sport fr. m Sunrist , 668 Solemn Saul’s Luck Str, ak a! 661 The Get-There Sharp. * 651 Siiveetip St-ve, the Sky Scraper from Susxiyou, { $45 Gopher Gabe, the Unseen Detective. is 636 Dandy Dar ting, Detective. 627 Mossback Mose, the Moun'aineer, \ 617 The Grip Sack Sharp’ s Even up. 597 Big Bandy, the Brigadier of Brimstone Butte, $68 Sandy sands, the Sharp from Snap City. 576 Sitver-Toogued Sid; or, Grip Sack Sharp 8 Sweep. 664 The Grip-Sack Sharp; -or, The Seraphs of or 655 Grip-Sack Sid, the Sample Sport. 647 Vhe Buried Detective; or, Sa: 1's Six Sentations: S41 Major Magnet, the Man of Nerve. : $85 Dandy Dutch, the Decorator from Dead-Lift , ow * 82 Dandy Andy, the Diamond Detective. : §l4 Gabe Gun», the i om Ginseng, $04 Solemn Saul, the Sad Man from san Saba, 4 Rattiepate Rob; or, The Roundhead’s Reprisal 488 The Thor: Boad-bye ne Sport. 474 — ms the Desnot of Dew Drop. Od ady, the of Sundown Duteb riers the. grim from Spitzenberg. 443 A Cool Hand; or, Pistol Johnny's Picnic, Pe 0% 4 Oklahoma Nick. och 4433 Laughing Leo; or, Sam's Dandy Pard. a’ ‘426 The Ghost Detective: or. The Secret Service Spy. 416 Monte Jim, the Biack Sheep of Bismarck. ‘09 Rob Roy Ranch; or, The Imps of Pan Handle, Aa. — ameless Sport. eae er.diy Aim, the e of Derringers. Durg. the Ishmael of the Hills. ; irk a a «fis Sapte int Man with a Record. ; , yal Flush; or, Dan Brown’s hig’Game. 360 Jumping Jerry, the Gamecock from Sundown. 355 Stormy Steve, the Mad Athlete. 351 Nor’ West Nick, thy Border Detective, , Sik 345 Masked Mark, the Mounted Detective. } = Spread Bagle Sam, the Hercules Hide tlunter, j Balers Charlev. the Golki Nugget Sport. 2 rank Lig iner Detective. ack’ 292 Mote Borner, the Boss Roustabout. a. 286 Pistol Jonnny; or, One Man ina Thousand, 5. 283 Sicek Sam, tite Devil of the Mines. 257 Death Trap Diggings: or, A Man "Way Back 249 Eléphant Tom, of Durango. ” Al — Saul, King of the Rustlers. 233 The Old ‘oy of Tesnbptoue. + 203 Pine of the Placers; or, Jo we s Death Hunt » 180 Old *49; or. The Amazon of A 170 Sweet. William, the Trapper Betectives ; 165 Joaquin. the Terrible ¢ Sores 154 Joaquin, the Saddie King, - . (aeons 141 Equinox = the. Soap A eae Red Rock. mae 119 og a Joe; ee aio MencRentece. S: Hg rown 0 ver; or © De ve 2 hg % ; or. tpg apa he oa A Peoxaln ool Blade: or, M ippi Man Shark. sin 67 The Boy Jockey; or, Honesty. vs. Crookedness. ant 50 Jack Rabbat, the Prairie BY WM. G. eaecent: or, Oid Halcyon. tfoot, the pce : the Thug’s Terror, es Y ho ee yaht- few, the ody K Shadower. She tee Prine of New York Ri 756 Old Burke, the Madison square re Detective, an 747 Double-voice Dan s Double b eal 215 Double-Wotes Dan on Deck. hes 02 Double-Voice Dan, the Always-on-Deck Detective pou.s) 496 Double-Voice Dan, the Go-it Alone Detective, ee ker Shar ee . on fee Pens al, the Cowboy Hotspur. - ee. ae 669 Od oo nee the hy ra Pia hie 663 The Gi ; or, So . oa om the Rough and Ready. oy. br4 Ga i as A nah Mao of Grit. i Jack, the tone) harsh Fe Sharp. Se oe Coe ee the Mountain Mystery. Dismal, the Ran mee Detective. Hustler Harry, the x Seen BY apaeuen Cc. JENKS. EL8akE 28 gees apgnaessve2d 0 The Silver Sport’ 3 Double. : The Baco-Doaree pao: ~ ee the. ae stir Detective. enderfoot Detective r Detective. f BY WILLIA™ R. EYSTER. 916 Two Dead-Square Sports. 902 ‘Sofc Velvet, the Man from Sandrock. 891. Genteel Jim, Sport-at-Large, 881 The Clubman-Crook’s Cat's-paw. 867 The Friseo Sport, 852 The Stranger 5 ats 5 Shake-up. '828 Kirk King, the Man: from ‘Kirby. 818 Gentleman Daye, the Dead Game Sport 783 The King-Pin Tramp. 767 The Sport of Silver Be ask 718 Une'e Bedrock’s Big “Bounce, 707 The Rival Rovers. 687 Double Cinch Dan, the Sport With a Charm. 77 Mr. Jacksou, the Gent from Jaybird. 659 Gilt-Edg¢e Jobnny; or, Ro'dan and His Rovers. 650 Lucky Lester’s Lone Hand. 634 Old Handeart'’s Kig Dump, 622 The All Around Sports. 604 Deser; Alf, the Man With the Cougar. 590 Gentle Jack, the High Roller from Humbug. 578 Seven Shot Steye, the Sport with a Smile. 568 [The Dude Detective. 558 Hurrah Harry, the High Horse from Halcyon, 549 Belshazzar Brick, the Bailiff of Blue Blazes. 533 Oregon, the Sport With a Scar. 508 The Dude from Denver. 478 Pinnacle Pete; or, The Fool from Way Back. bi Major Sunshine, the Man of Three Lives. 429 Hair Trigger Tom of Red Bend, 402 Snapsho' of Sam; or, The Angels’ Fiat Racket, 396 The Piper Detective; or, The Gilt Edge Gang. 375 Royal George, the Three in One, ape Thr e Handsome Sports; or, The Combination, 33 Derringer Dicky the Man with the D ip. 268 Magic Mike, ~he Man of Frills. 229 Captain Cu‘siceve; or, The Little Sport. 214 The Two Cool Sports; or, Gertie of the Gulch. 182 Hands Up; or, The Knights of the Canyon. 160 Soft Hand, Sharp: or, The Man with the Sand. 145 Pistol Pards; or, The Silent Sport from Cinnabar BY NED BUNTLINE. = — Long hog 9 ae Privateer. 633 The Sea 8 621 The Red cena: or, The Midshipman Royer. 584 Fire Feather, the pacanege King. 517 Buffalo Bill's First Trail, 861 Tombstone Dick, the Train Pilot. 122 Saul Sabberday, "the diot iit u > 111 The Smuggier Captain; or, The Skipper’s Crime, 18 The Sea. Bandit; or, The Quéen of the Isle. 16 The White Wizard; ’ or, The Seminole Prophet. BY JACKSON KNOX—‘' Old Hawk,” 838 Old Grips Still Hunt, 827 Detective Walden'’s Web. 778 Tbe Butler Detective; or, Ola Grip’s Grip 770 The Showman Dete tive. 762 Old Grip, the Detective, 740 Capt:in Clew, the Fighting Detective. 732 The Hurricane Detective, 643 Castlemaine, the Silent Sifter. 616 Magnus, the Weird Detective. 606 The Drop Detective. : 595 Wellbagn, the Upper Arad Detective. 582. Joram, the Detective Expert. 574 Old Falcon’s Double. 561 The Thug King; or, The Falcon Detective's Foe. 8 Falconbridge. the Sphinx Detective. 536 Old Falcon’s Foe: or, The Detective’s s Swell Job. 515 Short-Stop Maje, the Diamond Field Detective. 509 Old Falcon, t 6 Thunderbolt Detective. 501 eg aie Steve, the Retired Detective, 494 The Detective’s Spy 485 Rowlock.the Ha 477 Dead-arm Brandt, 467 Mainwaring. the Salamander. _ 462 The Cizcus Detective. a Griplock, the Rocket Petective. 444 The Magic Detective; or, The Hidden Hand, 424 Hawk Heron's Deputy, 886 Hawk Heron, the Falcon Detective. - r Detective. BY J. ©. COWDRICK. 752 The Suspect — of Daisy Drift. 626 Ducats Dion, the Nabob Sport Detective. 612 Bheriff Stillvood, the Regulator of Raspberry. 598 The Dominie a ctive. 591 Duke Daniels, the Society Detective, 580 Shadowing a Shadow. ~ pe Prince Paul, the Postman Detective. 57 The Mountain Graybeards; oF Riddles’ Riddle. 319 Ola Riddles, the Rocky Ra ger 499 Twilight Charlie, the ad 473 Gilbert of Gotham, the Steel-arm A Detective, 452 Rainbow Rub, the sa from Texas. 436 Kentucky Jean, the Sport from Yellow Pine, 422 Blue Grass Burt, the Gold Star Detective. . 89 The Giant Cupid: or Cibuta John’s Jubilee. * . BY ERWARD WILLETT. 483 Flush Fred. the River og s 368 The Canyon King; or. a Price on his Head. 848 Dan Dillon, Ki ‘ of Crosscut. ; 337 Old Gabe, the Mountain Tramp. 37 Terr. pin Dick, oie Wie pod tective, us 8 Double; or, The Squatters’ League 808 Hemleck Hank, Tough and True. 298 Nig Lem; or, Lif: in the Pine Woods. 289 Flush Fred's Full Hand. 274 Flush Fred, the Mississippi Spor. 248 Montana Nat, the Lion of Last Chance Camp. | 222 Bill the Blizzard; or, Red Jack’s Orime. 209 Buck Farl . the Bonanza Prince. ippi Mose; or, a Strong Man's Sacrifice. ~ BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. M7 The White Squaw, 234 ba Hunter's Feast. — eae e das names a phe og ag > The e i) or. Adventures in Mexi 74 The Captain of ths Rifles: or, The Lake Guess: § The Specter Barque. A Tale of the frien, ee The Scalp Hunters \ Romance: of the Plains, 37 .} 271 Stonefist, of Big Nu ~~ BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM. { 911 The Blue Blockader; or, The Coast Grayhound, 906 The Cuban Cruiser. ra The Ocean Gipsy. - 834 The Wild Steer Riders; or, Texas Jack’s Terrors, | 839 The Rival Monte Cristos, ; 805..The Last @f che Pirates; or, Docm Driven. 801 The Water Wolves’ Detective; or, Trapping thé Grave Ghouls, 791 The Coast-Raider’s Death-Chase. 748 Arizona Charlie, the Crack-suot Detective. 704 Invisible Ivan. the Wizard Detective. 685 The Red-skin Sea Rover. 679 Revello, the Pirate Cruiser; or, The Rival Rovers 672 The Red Rapier; or, The Sea Rover's Bride. 662 The Jew Dr tective gr, The Beautiful Convict, 640 The Rov r’s Ret ibuticn. 635 The Ex Buecane-r: cr, The Stigma of Sin. 25 Red Wings; or, The Goid Seekers of the Bahamas, | 615 The Three vccaneers. 610 The Red Flag Rover; or, White Wings of the Deep, 405 The Shadow Silver Ship. 600 The Silver. Ship; cr, The Sea Scouts of "%6. 594 The Sea Rebel: or. Red Rovers of the Revolution, 587 Conrad, the Sailor Spy; or. True Hearts of ’76. 581 The Outlawed Skipper; or, The Gantlet Runner, 560 The Man from Mexico. 553 Ma. Monte, the Mutineer; or, The ‘Branded Brig, 546 Tks Doomed Whaler: or, The Life Wreek. - 580 The Savages of the Sea, ‘ 524 The Sea Chaser; or, The Pirate Noble. 510 El Moro, th: Corsair Commodore. 493 The Scouts of the Sea. 457 The Sea Insurgent: or, The Conspirator Son, 446 Ucean Ogre, the Outcast Corsair. 435 The One-Armed Buccaneer. 430 The Fatal Frigate; or, Rivals in Love and Was, 899 The New Monte Cristo. 893 The Convict Captian. 877 Afloat and Ashore; or. The Corsair Co 369 The Coast Corsair: or, The Siren of the Sea. - 364 The Sea Fugitive: or, The Queen of tne Coast, 341 The Sca Desperado, 336 The Magic Snip; or, Sandy Hook Freeboters. 325 The Gentleman Pirate ; or, The Casco Hermits. 318 The Indian i‘uccaneer: or, The Red Rovers, 807 The Phantom Pirate; or. The Water ore 25 The Pirate Priest; or, The Gambler's Da) 246 7 fine Helen, the Amazon of the Over! Lightning the Man of Chance. oe Black Beard, the Buccaneer, 220 The Specter. Yacht; or, A Brother's Crime, } 210 Buccaneer Beas. the Lioness of the Sea. 205 The Gambler Pirate; or, Lady of the Lagoog, 198 The Skeleton Schooner; or, The Skimmer 184 The Scarlet Schooner: or. The ‘Bea Nemesis. | 104 Montezuma, the Merciless. 108 Merle, the Mutineer; or, The Red Anehor Brengs, BY PHILIP 8S. WARNE, 802 Dan = King of No Man’s Land. 583 Captain Adair, the Cattle King, 567 Captain Midnight, the Man of Craft. 544 The Back to Back Pards. §22 The Cham pion Three. 502 Bareback Buck, the Centaur of the Plawns, 472 Six Foot Si; or, ‘The Man to" Tie To.” 431 California Kit, ‘the Always on Hand. 404 Silver Sid; or, A “ Daisy ” Bluff. 880 Tiger Dick’ 's Pledge: or, Tne Golden Serpent 359 Yellow Jack, the Mestizo. 388 Jack Sands, the Boss of the Tewn 299 Three of a Kind; on D Dick, . Despard and the Sport, 251 Tiger Dic« vs. [ron es 7h 207 Old Hard Head: or, irlwind and his Mare. 171 Tiger Dick, the “Man ef the Iron Heart. 114 The Genesee from Pike, 80 A Man of or, Caliban the Dwarf. Eig 54 Alw and: oF The Foot- Sport, 29 Teen Dick, Faro King; or, The Cashiers Grime, Ps 4 The Kidnapper; or, The Northwest Shanghai, BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON, $23 Hotspur Hugh; or, The Banded Brothers, 811 Heavy Hand; or, The Marked Men, 805 Silver-Plated Sol} the Montana Rover. 291 Horseshoe Hank, bay Poe of Big Luck, | 285 Lightning Bolt, the Canyon Terror. 278 Texa : Chick. - a Detective. SF eorar et ine Mcnarck Desay ron-Arny e Hu 258 Bullet Hea the Coloralo Bravo. 237 Long-Haire) Max; or, The oe ae Loe 227 Buckshot Ben, the Man- 228 Canyon Dave, the Man of the gees oko 219 The Scorpion ‘Bro Brothers; or, Mad Tom's Missi¢ 202 Cactus Jack, the Giant Guide. io Don Sombrero. the California Road Gent. 176 Lady Jaguar, the Robber BY OLL COOMES, 619 Kit Bandy & Co , the Border Detectiver, 148 One-Armed Alf. the ery? Hunter. 99 The Giant bap or, by Camp Life. 43 Dakota Dan Reckless Ranger. BY COL. THOMAS H. MONSTERY. 236 Champion Sam;-or, The Monarchs of the Show 150 El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen. BY DR. NOEL DUN AR. 919 The Sea Scout; or, The Patriot teen ng ks. Be Number One, the Dead-set Detective, 850 The Planter Detective virs 730 Duke Despard, the-Gemmbler. Duelist. 4: od The Detective in ope or, T oe Gt Raheem. 4 new nas erery Wednesday , Pime Library is for sale + 6 Chev
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een DIME SPEAKERS, Wumbers 1 to hee inolusive. Each ae 1600 pages bn atte COMTIITE from wy to 75 pieces. Dime American ‘Sounbnees Neo. 1 = rt tem 7. America, m far | ebogm's 8 firenile une & of Washin A Dutch Cure, fer the Maine The Weather lot on the Battlefield,” The Heated Term, Itatian Btruggle, Philosophy ay Applied, dence, An Old iry, Seer Wise, Pound Fool- : na eg of Man, zips (teenies lish, of the Revo'n, | Sat’d’y Night’s njoy” ts, Fruits of the War, “Tn a Just Cause,’ oss Sewing -Machine, No Peace with Oppres- e Manhood, sion, The Mystery of Life, A Tale of a Mouse, ed ve ans Downs, A Thankegiving 8 Sermon, Great, The Cost of Riches, ta ht Ar and Ris’g, | Great Lives Imperishable- ard’s Oration, . The sep th BE & e Nationality, ° U blems, ur Natal Day, Honor to Pe eee. Solferine,. Immortalit; y of Fat Patriots, Intelligence the Basis of | Webster’s Polit’! System, ee Ppt Liberty. -* hig tom in the Forum, arge 0 rigade, e Press After the Battle, Woman's Rights, / Glass Right of the Governed, of Mr. Macbeth, My Ladder, \Prof, on Phrenology;, bh es . Aanaeck las ne, — 8 Name, The Rebellion of 1861, The — s Syren, (| Disunion. - Dime Wational Speaker, No.2. . | Union and ita Results Ohio, ‘ Mar 8 ture, 5 ver = ee The ten Mek Labors, | Our Dom ee True Knmortality. tS) “or of ar Belief, ‘Let the Childless Weep, fan Chief, pas Gountry's Glory, The ndent’ Farmer ° nion a Household, Mrs. Grai ar’s Ball, Inde mce Bell, How the Mone oy apes See, The Seholar’s Dignity, Future of the The of Pro Loyalty to Liberty, ' Chant, Our Country First, Last, ef Christianity, a= Always, True Higher Law, ritish Infinen Whe One Great N fa ones of J effornen: Ship and the Bird, National Hatreds, ‘ecumseh’s Murder Will Out,’ nsion, _ for the Best, a ee , Bashful Man's Sto of Kindness, -of-Fact.Man, | Gates of os r . of the La ty of the Beruggle e Law, : ruggle, ‘Ge- t gh? : The ot 3 Beautiful and True. Creowning Glory of U.S., | The Worm of the sul, Re Pools, and ber 7s a eshington, a the Eagle, Great Inheritance, | W on Henry Clay, | The De ey rie ae ty bok Ao Self ‘a- Ow Dime Bioonitente’;: No. 5. SEC. L Princreies or True Envectatron.—Faults in Enuneiation; How to Avoid Them. Special Rules and Observations: 4 SEC. ll. Tar Ar? or Oratory. Sheridan's List of the Passions: ‘Tranquillity, Cheerfulness, Mirth, Raillery, Buffoonery Joy, Delight, Gravity, In- quiry. Attention, Modest xy -erplexity, Pit aparece Despair, ‘ear, Shame, orse, Courage, asting, Pride, Obstinaey, Autflority, Commanding, Forbidding, Affirming, Denying, Difference, Agreeing, Bxhorting Judging, Approv- ing, Acquitting, Condemning “reaching, Pardon- jag, Arguing, lismissing, Re using, Granting, De- Mage mages Veneration, Hope, | Desire, Love, Re t, Giving, Wonder, Admiration, Gratitude, Cu Moat Persuasion, Tempting, Promising, Affecta- tion, Sloth, Intoxication, Anger, etc. SEC. II, Tue Component Evrements or 4» ORA rTrIon.—Rules of Maire se me: as applied to Words and Phrases, viz rity, Propriety, Precision. As applied to Sentences, wit Length of Sentence, Olearness, Unity, Stren ne of Speech; the Exordium, the ‘Narration, the Proposition, the Confirmation, the Ref utation, the Peroration. SEC, IV. PRESENTATIVE EXERCISES IN PROSE AND VERSE. ansition; A Plea for the Ox; Falstaff’s rope on Honor; the Burial of Lincoln; the Call and Response; the Bayonet Charge; Hist ve of a Life; the Bugle; the Bells; Byron; Macbet and ithe Dagger; amlet's 3 Soltl uy; Old Things: Upward; King W the Eye; an er Onto Mustic; oven a Galileo SEC. V. OnseRvATiIoNns or Goop ‘AvTRORrTixs. Dime Humorous Speaker, . No. 6. A Sad hues i Poetry Run Mad, A String of Onions, ght Names, A Tragic Story, entific Lectures, Cats, The Ager, Courtship, one ere Hb Devil Fat f vor doryoeit Thin, e f Ce) Dow, Jr.’s Lectures, ree Features’ Quarrel, Ego and Eeho, _ Hamerican Voodchuek, Fashionable Women, The Harp of a Thousand Fern Thistles, . Strings, Geod-N The Last of the Sarpints, The March to Moseow, ysterious Guest, ature Gottlieb Klebcyerg’ Schlackenlichter's "esnake, | The M ine Hun-ki-do-ri’s Fourth of e Secret, July Oration. The Shoemaker, It a Mean No, Say No, | The Useful Doctor, Jo Bows on , | The Waterfa’ Matrimony, Uni States Presidents, Nothing to Do v Old Grimes’s What I Wouldn't Be Paddle Your Own Ofnoe, | Yankee Doodle Aladdin, on ‘“ Araby’s | Ze Moskeetare, Sur Cause, Pr onto i Looe the Union, The World We Live In, | John Burns an aa : ; ” | Last Speech of Stephen Woman's ; No Sect in Heaven, » a Sap z ‘A. Douglas, Aaitore ya our rty, | Miss Prude’s Tea-Party, Manidity is Treason, Great Bell Roland, The Resl Conqueror, -'| The Jove tee of ag cee The New Year and the | 286 Giizen's Heritage, |The Beneficence of. the fat bes 1861, gn Agee (Union, | The itechani Dream of the Revelers 2 ee gs Ba mpeg ns Nature and Nainre's Goa | How Cyrus Laid Laid the Cable > e ern Good, [Sun, e Prettiest Hand, Re ae Grins of Our ee aaa Ossian’s Address to the | Paradoxical, ma, e y mn z < m 72 ~ ¢ ba ee ro f 3! a de ® ra * » A pe & ff to
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Published Every Wednesday. BEADLE'S*[)IME*]IBRARY. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers. BUFFALO BILL NOVELS. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 994 Buffalo Bill’s Lone Hand. 989 Buffalo Biil’s Marked Bullet, Buffalo Bil I's Life Raffle. Buffajo Bill's Relentless Trail. Buffa'o Bi. I's Invincibles. Buffalo Biil’s Blue Belt e. Buffalo Bfli’s Volunteer Vi ntes. Pard. $27 Buffalo Bill’s Bluff; or, ne Dick the Sport. Buffalo Bill's Quandary: 0 elvet Bill’s Vow. 5 Buffalo Bill and the Bergeon: “Scout. Buffalo Bal’ s League; ET ae Butterfly. y- 890 Buffalo Bill’s Life-Stake. 882 The Three Bills: Buffalo. Bill. Wild Bill and Band- box Bill; or, The Bravo-in. oth. 874 Buffalo * il fs Buckskin Braves, 869 Buffale Bill’s Road-Agent Round-up. '863 Buffalo Bill's Death Charm. Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush. Baffaio Bill's Double Dilemma, Buffalo Bill's Redskin Ruse. Buffato Bill's Bovs in Blue. Buffalo Biil’s Sharp Shooters. Buffalo Bill’s Best Bower. 816 Buffalo Bi: I's Red Trail. 812’Buffalo Bill’s Death-Knuell. 794 Buffalo Bill's Winning Hand 787 Buffalo Bill's oma Shot. ‘ 781 Buffalo” Bill's T7 Buffalo Bill’s Spy oy a a ; 769 Buffalo Bill’s weepstake, 765 Baffalo Bill’s Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Sam. 763 Buffalo Bill's Mascot. 757 Buffalo Bill’s Double. uffalo Bill’s Big Four; or, Custer’s Shadow. 748 Buffalo Bill's Flush a, 739 Buffalo Bill's Blind: or, The Masked Driver, on een oe —~ His Merry Men. & Beagles: or Silk Lasso Sam. ot Buffalo are Body Gu 722 Buffalo Bill on the War- vee 3 649 } \ f fi SSSSS22E5 ~~ Baza: a = BSZERS BS oe Buffalo Bili’s Scout Buffalo Baffled: or. The Peseater Detpecadn. Brotherbood, oo Buffalo via ‘Ss poner Buffalo ‘gs Trail; or, Mustang '667 Buffalo Bill’s Swoop; or. the King of fe hace, Phe Cowb3 Lasso Buffaio Buffalo y Clan; or, The Sree gs Le ; or, Bue Taylor ng ae ‘s Chief of Cow ; or, Buck Taylor Bill’s Lonapza ; or, Sicver Circle Knights, 862 Buffalo Bill’s Grip; or, Vatn Bound to Custer. Bill's P} ge: or. The League of Three. ee ga2ee @ Dread 3 va Ranch 20 4qsopay da ie id Bitl, t x 23e /ild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen. id Bill’s Trump Card: or, The Indian Heiress, ki Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot, By Buffalo Biil, Shot Four ‘exas Jack, the Lasso King Dead-Shot. Sgr ee: ‘6 Still Hunt. the = West Duelist. the M's me oy Nine; er, Pards of the Plains. oe My Pards med ‘oon: or, Borderland Retribution. izara Brothers: or, White Beaver’s Trail, Beaver, the Exile of the Platte. Dead-Center Shot. he Whirlwind of the West. aa Jack, the Prairie Rattler. 6 Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweetheart, id Bullet Svort; or, Knights of the Overland, Death-Tratier. the Chief of Scouts. By Leon ya Ned Boars ey ete. BY HAROLD PAYNE. i388 The Man from Mexico in New York. 872 The King- -Pin Shark; ni Thad Burr's Ten Strike, Be The Tenderloin Big Fo' The eesighee City Crook. Tracked to sli £20 The Frisco Chicago. The Policy Broker’s Blind. Sharper’s 's Cool Hand. badower’s Backer. pa a pe tan tter’s Shrewd Scheme. 8 Thhe Grand treet Gold-Dust Sharpers. 788 Detective Burr 6 Luna‘ic Witness . #92 The Wall Street Sharper’s Snap. Thad Burr’ 's Death, Drop. 142 Dete urr Among the New York Thugs. i Detective Burr’ *s Foil; or, A Woman’s Strategy. 7B Detective Burr, the Headquarters Special. 713 Detective Burr's Bott eee ven ios ee te. Invincible; or, The “L” Clue. The Matchiess 680 XX, the Fatal Clew; . Burr’ s Master Case, a BY COL. THOMAS H. MONSTERY. 995 The Czar’s Spy." 986. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. Vs Champion Sam; or, The Monarchs of the shaw: El Rubio Bravo. King of the Swordsmen. BY J W. OSBON. BY CAPTAIN HOWARD HOLMBS,. Gentleman George, the Showman Sport. $12 Gentéel Joe’s Lone Hand. oe The Train Detective, 896 Kent Keen,-the Crook-Crusher. 888 Nightshade in New York, 879 Falcon Flynn, the Flash Detective. 871 The Cashier. 859 Clew-Hawk Keene’s Right Bower. 847 Hiram wk, the Harlem Detective, $40 Majer Bullion. Boss of the Tigers. 831 Shadowing the London tive. 817 Piush Velvet, the Prince of a 803 The Broker’s Right Bo 788 The Night-Hawk mpd 779 Silk Ribbon’s Crush-o 766 Detective Zaob, the puladvay Spotter. 751 The Dark Lantern Detective. 736 The Never-Fail Detective. 724 Captain Hercules, the ae Arm Deiective, 711 Dan Damon, = Gilt-E a Detective. 701 Silver Steve, the Bran Sport. Gideon Grip, the Secret Shadower. 684 Velvet Van, the Mystery Shadower. 678 The Dude Desperado 871 Jason Clew, the Silk-Manded Ferret. 664 Monk M the Man-Hunter. 654 Sol S he iF a Ferret Detective. 642 Red low. 608 Silent Sain. “tke Shadow Sphinx. 592 Captain Sid, the Shasta Ferret. 579 Old Cormorant, the Bowery Shadow. 569 Captain Cobra, the Hooded Mystery. 359 Danton, the Shadow Sharp. 560 Silk Hand, the Mohave Ferret. 548 The Magnate Detective. 532 Jack Javert, the Independent Detective. 523 Reynard of Red Jack: or, The Lost Detective 512 Captain Velvet’s Big Stake. 505 Phil Fox, Mat Genteel Spotter. 496 Richard Redfire, the Two Worlds’ Detective, 487 Sitinshine Sam, a Chip of the Old Block, 480 Hawkspear, the Man with a Secret. £8 Coldgrip in Deadwood 460 Captain Colderip. the Detective, 453 Captain Coldgrip’s Long Trail. 447 Voicano, the Spy. 441 The California Sharp. 434 Lucifer Lynx, the W onder Detective, 421 Father Ferret, the Frisco Shadow. 413 Captain Coldgrip i in New York, 407 Captain oe 's Nerve; er. Injun Nick. 400 Captain Coldgrip: or, The New York Spotter. 392 The Lest Bonanza; or, The Boot of Silent Hound. 382 The Bonanza Band: or, Dread Don of Coo} Clan. 874 Major Blister, the Sport of Two Cities, 365 Keen Kennard, the = Shadow. ALBERT W. AIKEN’S NOVELS. Dick Talbot Series, | oan Dick Talbot at the Mines: or, Kentuck, the Sport. a b. ped d Kit; er, The Idyl of White Pine. 741 Dick ralbot’s Close Cali. 725 Diek Talbot in Ne i Meee Gam 854 Dick Talbot; o1, The Brand ae 36 Dick Talbot; or, The Death-Shot of Ailken’s Fresh of Frieco Series. Fresh, the Race-Track Sport. The Fresh in Mentaua; or, Blake’s Full Hand. ‘ The Fresh’s Rustie at Painted City. The Fresh at Santa tS er, The Stranger Sharp,' Fresh, the Sport: er Racket at Stide Oat. Fresh Against the ele er, Blake, the Lion. The Fresh in Texas; or. The Eecobedo Millions. The Fresh of Frisco on the Rio Grande. The Fresh in Big Walnut Camp; er, Bronze Jack, Aiken's Joe Phenix Sertes. ~* Joe Phenix in Chicago. The Doctor from Texas; or, Joe Phenix’s Clue 944 Joe Phenix’s Rigu.t Bower. 865 The Female Bar Detective; or, Jee Phenix in S232 sBRGERESE Case. 708 Joe Phenix's cadet ie rae Woman Ha 700 ~ Phenix’s Unkno or, Crushing the 681 Joe Phenix’s Speciale; or. nthe Actress Detecti 637 Joe Phenix in 632 Joe Phenix’s Master enti: 628 Joe Phenix’s Combine ; er,the Dandy Conspirs' 620 Joe Phenix’s Silent Six. 601 Joe Phenix’s Shadow; or.the Detective’s M 419 Joe Phenix,, the King of Detectives. ' 161 Joe Phenix’s Great Man Hunt. = Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, The League. | 79 Joe Phenix, the Police Spy. Atken’s Miscellancous Novels. 980 The All-Around Athlete. $40 Captain Jack, the Scalper 985 The Ha and Wolves of New York 932 Detective Gordon’s Grip, . 926 Old we the Silent Smiter. ; §@2 The Country man Detective. 876 Gold Button Sport; or, The Miner Sharps, , 842 Teton he, va ood. { aig The New ay ey ker A: T Sporte. e Yor er anal ‘exas the Sflver Sport. 71 Gio si wens. the, Geceuates Detective.: 7 cGow wees Seen Detective, BY WILLIAM H, MANNING. 948 The Red-Gloved Detective, 981 Frisco Frantt at Glory Gulch. 920 ant Montana Miner in New York, 908 The Doomsday-Den Detective. 899 The Double-Quick Detective. §98 Lg ee Gid, of Dark Divide pis rt Detective’s Shake-up, mpg the Race-Track Judge. eight Detective, 665 - pr ty ; OF, The Golden Gute Find. G18 >t a Sport. 607 Old Be =a “ Hard Case " Detective. ae The Siive rahe caeanin nis r Tom, of At Ring or, Detective’ s Shadow Act.|, The _—— Detective: ba The Invisible Handi 888 The S 823 The athlete Sport About 808 TheCrook-Detective’s Pull. 790 Plunger Pete, the Race Track Detective, 782 Royal Rock, thé Round- 7 eee 74 Steve Starr, the Dock 764 The New York Sharp’s ~ arraeedl 788 Detective Claxton, the Record Breaker. 714 Gabe Gall, the Gambolier from Great Pos a pi Spokane Saul, the Samaritan 692 Dead-Shot t Paul, the Deep-Rang 653 Strawberry Sam, the fered with th rebar. 646 Dark John, the Grim 688 Murdock, the Dread ate 623 ree ue Dave, the Redee Beaten Detective. 611 Alkali Abe, the Game Chicken from Texas, 596 Rustler Rube: the Round-Up Detective. Dan Dixon’s Double. b7o Steady Hand. the Napoleon of Detectives 563 Wyoming Zeke, the _—_ ur of Honeysuckie. 551 Ga Kean the Man with Backbone, — 539 Old Doubledark, the Wily Detective. 531 Saddle-Chief Kit, the Prairie Centaur. 521 Paradise Sam, the Nor’-West Pilot. 513 ‘Texas Tartar, the Man With Nine Lives. 506 Uncle Honest, the Peacemaker of Hornets’ Nest. 498 Central Pacific Paul. the Mail Train Spy. 492 Border Bullet, the Prairie Sharpshooter. 486 Kansas Kitten, the Northwest Detective. 479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassajack. es The Duke of Dakota 463 Geld Gauntlet. the Guich Gladiator. ° Lone Hand inTexas. _ in Chin, the Chinese Detective, e Actor Detective High Horse of ‘the Pacific. Lone Hand; ar, The Red River Recreants: Grip, the Vendetta of Death, y Gen tleman: cr. Riek Fox. Det ards: o:, The Rio Grande e Heh © Dusky oo ctive: or. THe > BSISESRERASEEIIZ efi i) -_ i + if sits a 101 The Man from New York. 91 The Winning Oar: or, The ieshocper s28 eg ne af nay ad gee 1 The Human Tiger: or, e “A Gentleman George; or, Parlor. Prison and Street. 2 The Phantom Hand; or, The 5th Avenue Herress. ; 56 The Indian Mazeppa; er, M en of the Plains. 49 The Wolf Demon; or. The Kanawha Rome 42 The California Detective; fr r, The Wit es of N. ° 81 The New York Sharp; or, The Flash of Lightning 27 The Spotter Detective: or, Girls of New York. NEW ISSUES. 1000 Buffalo Bill’s Grim Guard. By Col. Ingraham, 1001 _—. a Burners of Cimarrom. By Jobn Ww r : i g ——— 17 ao. Een uso eT tens rast a : im ; ; 4 Bile ap Ht uy 455 Yank Yellowbird, the Tall Hustler of the Hills, | 1082 sliver ity Sam. B 449 Bluff Rurke, King of the “a | 008 Gold 1 Dani Sarr ck talbor in Ciah. By Albert est Walt, the Mountain Vetera’ 487 Dedp Duke: or, The Man of Two Poy se too4 Buitalo Bill's Death Deal. vd Col. Ingraham. 4% The Rivais of Montana Mill. | 1605 Foot-Hilis Frank. By Jos. : 1006 The Sea Cadet. By Col. P.T JUST ISSUED. 415 Hot Heart, the Detective § 45 Old Bally the Brigadier o luck Basin, 279 The Gold Dragoon, ur, California Bi . | 996 Injun Dick, the § Shasta Dead Shot, 7 997 Hotspur Hal gia yi from Hard Luck. By BY NED BUNTLINE. Jos. E. Badge r. 657 Long Tom, the Privateer. tai’ a Privateer. By Ned 633 The Sea 9e0 The Velvet Had; or, The Iron Grip of ‘jun = The ene ivateer: or, The 5 apie Rover. Dick. By AlbertW. Aiken Fire er, e ccaneer 517 Buffalo Bill's Firat Trail, in A new issue very Wed nesday. 861 Tombstone Dick, the Train Pilot. THE DIME LIBRARY is for sale by all 122 Saul Sabberday, the Tdiet Sp _Newsdealers. ten eants ae" copy. or sept by mail or 111 The Smuge! capials “The Ski ‘s Ori ~ 18 The Soa Radi; or, The Queen of the Inle es receipt of price. Mew ©. Diets Stile ) 16 The White Wizard” ar e Seminole Prophet, | 37 em ot Bot J : ‘
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Each Number Complete. | BUFFILE is BILL 979 Buffalo Bill's Relentless Trail. Prentiss Ingraham. 4 973 oar Sapa Shot bias ak Pards of the By Colonel! yt by Con W 964 Buffalo Blll's Invineibles; or, The Sable Shad- 7 : ee 8 Sublime Sacrifice. By Col. P. Ingra-| Aan. . | di 080 Buffalo. Bill's Blue Belt Brigade; or, Sun-| " j flower Sam of Shasta. By Col. * 956 Buffalo Bill's Volunteer Vigilantes; or, The} . ‘ Mysterious Man Jn Blue, By Cql. P. ingra-| ] ham, , . | 950 Buffalo Bill, at Bay; or, The eka Seeker's ane Doom, By Col, P. Ingraham PY 943 Buffalo Bill's Block Game; or, * ‘The Mounted |. ; “Miners of the Overland. By ‘Col. FP... kn: r ham. , I b 936 Buffalo Bill's. Black Pard; or, The Gold ore ate of the Big Hern. By Col. P. Ingra- ams 927 Buffalo Bill's. Bluff; or, Dusky Dick, the Bes Sport. By Col, P. Ingraham. 6 9 (921 Buffalo Bill's Quandary; or, Velvet Bili's Vow. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 915.Buffalo Bill, and the Surgeon Scout: or, Go- cs j “* warn=go, the Redskin Rider.. By Col.*P. In- # grdhinui 909 Buffalo Bl's League; or, *Rea Butterfly. By ‘ Col. Prentiss Ingraham. | 904 Buffalo Bill's Tangled Trail; or, Gentleman ; ; _, Sack, the Man of Many Masks.. By Col. P. S Ingraham. ‘ 900 Buffalo Bill’s Rough Riders; or, Texas Jack's s Sharp-Shooters. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Bx 895 Buffalo Bill's Secret Ally; or, The Texan's as r } aascoo By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. i tuftalo Bill’s Life-Stake; or, The Pledged ee. By Col. P, Ingraham. BGatd-Box Bil; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth. By Col, P. Ingraham. si Buffalo BUl’s Buckskin Braves; or, The Cara Queen's Last Game. By Col, P, Ingraham, 869 Buffelo Bill's Road,Agent Round-Up: or, The ‘Mysterious Masked Man in Black. By Col. | P. Ingraham. \ 863 Buffalo Bill's Death-Charm; or, The Man 4 ‘With the Scar. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 857 Buffalo Bill‘a Royal Flush; or, The Pony Ri- © der’s Death-Run. By Col, Prentiss Ingra- hem. ; 851 Buffalo Bill's Double Diteetces: or, The Great , Scout's Big Three. By Col. . Ingraham, 845 Ruffalo Bill's Redskin belts or, Texas Jack’s Dvath Shot. -By*Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 839 The Ranch King Dead-Shot; or, Texas Jack’s I'roxy. By Buffalo Bill 4 ( 830 Buffalo Rill’s Boys In Blue; or, The Brimstone ’ Band’s Riet-out.. By Col. P. Ingraham. 826 Buffalo Hill's Sharp-Shooters; or, The Surgeon Scout to the Rescue, BY Sel. Pp Ingraham. 4 Gold King. By aham, oevne0n0e jo00000000 Ly ogi of EX EFAS ALE ) { gua The Thrée Bills; Buffalo Bill, Wild Bull and/ 1il's Best tiataes or, Montebello the $23 Buffalo Bill's “* - or, The Miner] Marauder’s Death-Track. By Buffalo Bill. 820 White Beaver’s Stil! Hunt; 1 $16. Turffain RBUT's Red Trail; or, The Road-Rider Re uggace 1812 lusfaio Mill's Death-Knell; or, The Red Hand Riders of the Rockies. By Col. P. Ingraham. 7 Will Bil. ti.e Wild Wes: Duelist; cr, The Gir Mascot of Mooniight Mine. P. Ingraham, 807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist; or, The Girl! Grande Ralph, the Cowboy Chief, By But- falo Bill. 794 Buffalo Bill’s Winning Hand: or, The Masked Woman. of the Colorado Canyon. By Col. P. Ingrahem. ffalo Blli's Dead Shot; +or, ‘The Skeleton Scout the Colorado. By Col. ‘Prentiss Angraham. CL Bill’'s Brand; or, The “Brimstone ; iw" ‘Spd. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 777 Buffalo Bill's Spy-Shadower; or, pine Masked’! Men at Grand Canyon, By Col. P, Ingraham. 773 Buffalo Bill’s Ban; or, Cody Ge the Rescue. | By Leon Lewis. 769 Buffalo Bill's Sweepstake; or, The’ Wipe-ou% . at Last Chance. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 765 ae Bill’s Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Samy ol. Prentiss Ingraham. / 761 Buffato: Bill’s Mascot: or, The Death /Valley Victim No. 13. By Gol. Prentiss Ingraham. 457 Buffalo Bill's Double; or, The Desperado De- ; tective. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 750 Buffalo Bill’s Big Four; or, Custe’s Shadow. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 743 Buffalo Bill's Flush Handy or, Texas Jack’s Bravos. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 739 Buffalo Bill’s Blind; or, The Masked Driver of Death’s Canyon. By Col. Prentiss Ingra- ham. 735 Buffalo BU ind His Merry Men; or, The Robip Hoed vals. By Col. Prentiss Ingra- ham 731 Buffalo Bill’s Beagies; or, Silk Lasso Sam. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 727 Buffalo Bill's Body Guard; or, The Still Hunt vof the Hills. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 722 Buffalo Bill on the War Path; or, Silk Lasso s the ‘Will-o’ -the-Wisp. By Col. P. In- am. 716 Buffalo Bill's Seout Shadowers; or, Emer- ald Ed of Devil’s Acre. By Col, P. Ingraham. 710 Buffalo Bill Baffled; or, The Deserter Des- perado’s Deffance. "By Col. P. Ingraham. 697 Buffalo Bill's Buckskin Brotherhood; or, Opening Up a Lost Trail. By Col. P. In- graham. 691 Buffalo Bill's Blind Trail; or, The Daughter of the Regiment. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 682 Buffalo ey oe packet Service Trail. By Major Dangerfield Bur 667 Buffalo Bill's “st or, ‘the. King of the Mines. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 658 The Cowboy Clan The ao ot Texas, By Colonel Prentiss ‘I Ingraham, Tue DIME LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by ‘Scare pre-paid, on re- price. é e's Run Down. By Col. P. Ingraham. | By Buiato bill. | j on 653 The: Lasso King’s League; or, The Tigers of Texas. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 649 Buck Taylor, the Saddle King. Buffalo Bill's Chiefy of Scouts. By Col. P. Ingraham. 644 Buffalo Bill's Borianza; or, The Knights of | the Silver Circle. By Col. P. Ingraham. 639 The Gold King: or, Montebello, the Magnifi- cent. By Buffalo ‘Bill. 629 Buffalo Bill's Daring Mole; or, Daredeath Dick, King of the Cowboys; By Leon Lewis. 599 The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pards of the Plains. By Buffalo Bill. 517 Buffalo Bill's First Trail; or, Will Cody, the Pony Express Rider, By Ned Buntline. y | 414 Red. Renatd, the Indian meets i or, The Gold \Buzzards of Colorado, By Buffalo Bull. 401 The One-Armed Pard; or; reg Retribution in : Borderland. By Buffalo B |397 The Wizard Brothers; or, White Beaver’s Trail. By Buffalo Bill. | 394 White Beaver, the xile of the Platte; or, p rn ead Man's Red Trail. By Buffalo $62 Buffalo Bill's Grip; or, Oath-bound to Custer. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham, 229 Buffalo Bill's. Pledge; or, The League od ? . Three. By Col, P. Ingraham. 319 Wild Bfll, the Whirlwind of the West. By Buffalo Bill. ? 304 Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler; or, Queen of the Wild Riders. By, Buffalo ‘Bi a 248 The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweet- heart. By Buffalo Bill, Government Scout and Guide. 189 Wild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The) Dégperate Dozen. By Cel. P. Ingraham, 175 Wild BIll’s Trump Card; or, The Indian Heiress. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 108 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot; or, Dagger Don's Double. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 158 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts; or, The Doomed \ Dozen. By Dr. Frank Powell. 117 Buffalo Bill's Strange ard; or, Dashing Dandy, the Hotspur of e Hitls. By Major D. Barr. 92 Buffalo Bill, Amazon of the West. Burr. 83 Gold ‘Bullet Sport; or, The Knights of the Overland. By Buffalo Bill, 52 Death Trailer, the Chief of Scouts; cr, Life and Love in a Frontier Fort, By Buffalo | > NEW ISSUES TO COME, 981 The Gold Lace Sport; st 7h ig Texan Sam- the Buckskin King;, or, The By Major Dangerfield son's Wide Swath. By J Badger, Jr. 062 Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand; or, ii 4 Ragcally Valet’s Double Game, By A. Morris. 963 Kid Glove Kris,.t Spott. By J. C. Cow- drick. Ready A k 984 Buffalo Bill's — “Raffle; ar, Doomed Three. By Col. P. Ingraham. Ready Sept 1 00000007, 009000000 - 000000000 000000000 0 s