Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 99) (1880 07 28)
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i A a a a eT ae nN ~ v > zis 4 e y > E ES > iy —=S Yl i {hi ii ' or | alll « COO OT EEE SS LT ENTERED AT THE Post Orrice AT NEW York, N. Y., aT SEcoND CLass Mar Rares. Vol. VILI, Pxtistet Zeer Two Weeks. Feadle i Adams, Publishers, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y., July 28, 1880. The Giant Rifleman; Wild Life in the Fangher Regions, BY OLL COOMES, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ DEATH-NOTCH,” ‘‘ DAKOTA DAN,” “RED ROB,” ETC., ETC. THE PROLOGUE. THE great, green woods of Michigan sung harps a eternal melody under a dreamy August night. é€ murmuring rivers and slumbering lake- lets reflected back the brilliant glories of the summer sky. The great, round moon seemed to stand fixed over the valley of the Muskegon, as centuries before it had stood over the valley of Ajalon; and her mellow light falling to earth, garnished the green, feathery forest with a silver radiance, and sbimmered on the bosom of the waters like ‘burnished gold. sil th i ae S| oT Lite AN! WAS ce AY) Nowe NMEA NAN es Ware MZ “WHAT If It, CarT’Ris’ THE OLD HUNTMR ASKED, BIMSELF \\\ " The majestic pines shook their emerald robes in the ba my breath of that northern summer night, and murmured low and soft their endless complai 1b. The night-jar screamed along the sky and peunded his hollow wings against the pliant air. The sound of human voices—the cries of child- ish joy and ripples of merry laughter, mingled with th» steady roar of the water pouring over the Bul -rush dam. ‘be lights from half a dozen cabirs peered dimly out over the river frem the shadow of their retreat under the clustering pines. The bark of a watch-dog, ever and anon, start- ed the echoes in the woods as it bayed the far-cff ory of a wolver'ne. Frogs croaked along the margin of the river, and insect wings droned through the night. Six long canoes lying upon the river just be- low the bull rush dam, contained a score of merry people. Men, women and children were there to spend the evening tour in fishing after the day’s hard work was done. Pleasant was the flow of sott words that passed frcm lip to lip, boat to boat; and clear and happy were the ee SRI EATAD ~ Ten Cents a Copy. $2.50 a Year. No. 99 peals of childish laughter that came over the water, The scene was a pleasant one, and ro happier hearts nor more romantic scenes were ever praised in Venetian song. No fears seemed to fetter the buoyant spirits of the hardy lumber- men, their happy wives, and frolicsome little ones. The voices of nature arcund them, the fragrant summer air, and a sense of each other’s joy seemed to have thrown around them the glories of Paradise. But hark! A sound suddenly breaks in upon their ears. Every voice beccmes bushed, and aig ear is bent in the attitude of listening. A Joud plash in the water is heard despite the roer of the dam. Then the figure of a man is rcen cleaving the moonlit waters as he swims rapidly out toward the boats. Every eye is fixed upon the form gliding so swiftly across the waves, for scme strange in- tuitive fear seems to fill each breast with a serse of approaching disaster. ; The swimmer approaches the nearest boat, The occupants see that his face is dark, and WING UNEASY AT THE CAPTAIN'S EMOTIONS.
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aw) darker still is the mass of long hair floating on the water above his head. He is an Indian—a friendly Chippewa. He looks up and speaks, His face wears the look of wild excitement, and his words are spoken with an awful meaning. ““Go! go!” ho exclaims; ‘‘it is death to re- main!” Thero is no reply savo the dip of a dozen pad- | dles. The prows of the canoes are at once turned toward the shore. Hushed now are those merry voices, silent are those pratiling tongues. The loud blows of an ax suddenly ring cut clear and distinct, and abovo these are heard a | dozen unknown voices crying out: * All together!” | ance of animality. The Giant Rifleman. | well as of considerable force of character. His groeeal features were those of a handsome man, | A long, Sortie brown beard and a heavy mus- | tache lent additional strength to his_appear- ance; though his head, upon which the hair had been closely cut, displayed a slight preponder- In form he was, truly, a model of physical manhood; but, despite these favorable endowments, there was an air of reck- jess abandon and hidden deceit about him that eclipsed, in a measure, all the better, gifts of nature. The four men set around the table, engaged at cards, Before them was a bottle from which they occasionally drank. “Josh,” said the captain, as he took fup the cards and began shuffling them, ‘“‘I was just “My God! it comes from the lock of the dam!” cried a strong voice in one of the boats. Searcely hid his words died on his lips erea sound, as though the earth was bursting asun- | der, rent the night. \ ‘Then from the lips of the lumbermen and their | loved ones, rose a shriek of despair. | Some fiends incarnate had cut the locks to the dam, and throwing open the floodgates, hurled a mighty avalanche of water upon the little Pry, burying men, women and children be- neath it, and sweeping them into eternity. With the roar of a tornado the flood sweeps | on—a great cloud of foam and spray rolling up in advance of it like the bresth of a demon. Not a buman voice is heard; nothing save the recedins roar of the flood breaksupon the night. The woods echo the rush of the tide, and the earth trembles beneath its mighty tread. But its. wild fury is soon spent. Gradually its roar dies away in the distance like a far-off rum- bling., .The river seeks its level, and flows on as smoothly as it did ere the Bull-rush dam dis- turbed its quiet. Nota sigu of human life is visible. One by one the voices of nature resume their song. Tho boom of the night-jar’s wing is again heard above the forest pines, The watch-dog that bayed the wolverine, now howls piteously by the broken dam, The moon glides down and hides her face be- | hind a cloud, for she had not witnessed the tri- | umph of Israel over the Amorites. Darkness settled over the face of the earth, The lights in the Bull-rush cabins burn to their | sockets and go cub. | And now shadowy figures skulk here and there | among the huts like assassins, The night passes away and day dawns; but | nothing save that same piteous howl of the watch dog breaks the awful silence that reigns over the tenantless houses of the Bull-rush lum- bermen. As the day advances, vultures appear afar off down the river wheeling and circling in the air, their greedy eyes fixed on the human forms bloating and blistering in the August sun. Night agoin comes on apace, and as she drops her mantle over the earth, let us draw the cur- tain over the Bull-rush Tra_edy. CHAPTER I. ON TIIE LOG-RAFT—WHO FIRED THE SHOT? On the principal Black river of Miohigg®, oq rd Po Rais wd tlake, | turn next at the heim. some twenty or thirty miles from the grea a huge raft of logs was slowly drifting along at | the wi.lof the sluggish tide. It was intended | for the mills at South Haven, and although late | ir) 2) thinking about—” “What, captain? that swamp angel?—old Cranberry’s daughter?” “Not at all, Josh; I was thinking of where you and I were, about two years ago this time.” Jack made no response, though his compan- ions saw, as he bent his eyes in refiection, that his hand trembled as he threw down the ace of trumps and caught Abe Brannon’s king. A momentary silence ensued. The captain of the raft repeated bis question. Josh 7 mens colored, and a perceptibie change came over his face. “Captain,” he finally said, “I am fully | aware of what you allude to; and if you can talk *bout,anything else, do so; I assure you it will be just as agreeable to me es twenty lashes would be to you, at least.” The captain laughed a dry, husky laugh. “Anything for a little fun,” he observed; “rafting, you know, is dull work, and we must say or do something to keep up excitement. It will be to-morrow night before we get down to South Haven.” ‘* When we do get there we will have a high- lonesome with the boys,” replied Myers. *¢ We'll run over to Oshkosh, we will, and havea royal time before we go back to Camp Spen- J ‘* No dissipation, boys; no dissipation, or I'll bounce every blackleg of you,” returned the captain. ‘I won’t bave it; you fellows have got to brace up, quit swearing and drinking, and shave at Jeast ouce in six months, and was your faces once a week, Yes, sir, gentlemen; you’ve got to slick up in person and morals, cr else get out of the wilderness.” ‘‘ Whew!” whistled Myers, in apparent sur- prise; ‘‘ what’s comin’ over the spirit of our cap- tain’s dreams? Had a presentiment, captain?’ The captain glanced up as thcugh startled by the question. “ Why, no, you mullet-bead,” Abe Brannon put in; ‘don’t you know that old Cranberry’s daughter is going to queen it over Camp Spen- cer as the wife of Captain Randolph Spen- cer? “ Certainly—beg pardon, captain,” said Josh, taking up the bottle and placing it to his lips; ‘but here’s to you, the swamp angel, Old Huck- elberry and all creation.” He drained the bottle to its dregs, then took up the cards to deal. “Josh, you mustn’t get drunk, for it’s your ‘* Budd Har- nses or own the ‘Blow the helm!” blurted Josh. ris’s running that; so who keers for ex whether this old raft floats up or in the season for rafting, there was an ample | river?” force of water to bear the great boom steadily forward. The raft was an immense affair for the Black river, being about ten rods wide by twenty in of lors. These logs were firmly lashed together, side by side, and long poles and slabs pinned transversely across the ends of the outer tiers. There was but one layer of logs, and this was half sunken in the water by its own weight. At the stern of the raft a helin was attached, and | with this one man alone kept the great boom on its course. In the center of the raft a large tent was ar- ranged upon a platform reised a few inches above the logs, which were wet and slippery. The tent was the shelter and home of the rafts- men.. It was provided with a sheet-iron stove, a fow rude stools, a box that answered the double purpose of a table and_ provision chest, and a couple of pallets made of skins and blankets. The raft was in charge of five men. Four of them were in the tent, and the fifth one at the helm. They were all strong, hardy-looking fel- lows, as most all river raitsmen usually are. They were dressed in garments made of the coarsest material, and in plainest style, though no two were dressed alike. All wore high- topped.smbber boots to enable them to walk over the wet, slippery logs with ease and com- ort. A’l wero. comparatively young men—their leader, whom _they addressed _ as captain, being the eldest.” He was probebly in the thirties somewhere; and being a man of rather fir conél appearance, he bore a striking contrast to his associates. A large, full blue eye gave him an expression indicative of a kindly nature, as fine per- | “Two years ago—” began the captain, but here Josh broke in, saying: Please let two yearsago go to the deuce; my nerves need rest; they’re not made of iron, and length, and containing in all more than an acre | so if you don’t want a first-class mutiny right | here, don’t mention the past to yours truly, Joshua Myers.” ‘‘But I had a presentiment, Josh.” ‘Dancin’ dervishes! if you’re going to talk about that, I’d like to have a presentiment, too, of—well, about two months’ wages, and then you can say, ‘good-by, John.’” The captain again laughed at Myers’s restless- ness. Again the bottle was filled from a jug in the corner of the tent, and all drank; but the cap- tain drank lightly. His men could sec that something weighed beavily upon his mind, Josh Myers alone had some idea of what it was troubling him. ; The game of cards went on, and so did Josh Myers’stongue. The latter ran incessantly, and was rendered more voluble by frcquent lubrica- tions from the bottle. Josh was Seren among his companions, and a dro 1 remark from his lips suddenly evoked an outburst of loud laughter. Before silence had been re- stored, a card inthe hand of the captain was suddenly snatched from his fingers by an in- visible power, and thrown on the table. At the same instant a ag 2 ae of wood penetrat- ed the cheek of Zeke Morris, forcing a cry of pain from his lips. The captain picked up his card, and, to his surprise and horror, saw a round, ragged hole torn in the center. “By Judas!” burst from bis lips, ‘“‘what does this mean?” ““ A bullet done it, captain; look there!” said ‘| engage in cards, Myers, potuiing to a ragged perforation in the top of the vaken table where a bullet had struck pts obliquely downward, entirely cut of sight. , The faces of the raftsmen became stamped with surprise ani wonder; and in a moment all were upon their feet and out of the tent. They glanced around them, and toward either shore. On the right, high bluffs rose several hurdred feet above the level of the stream, and from these hights the shot had no doubt been fired down into their tent, The man at the helm could tell them nothing more than that he hed hcard the report cf a gun over on the bluff among the bushes, The captain and his men, grew uneasy; they could not understand the meaning of the almost fatal shot. If it had been fired with murderous intent, who had dene it? This was the question that passed from one to the other. The captain shook bis head gravely. said. “I don’t krow,” responded Abe Brannon: ‘‘Bertraw and his whole gang of iu mbermen are as envious of us as the irog of the katydids. They are all French Canadians, and are natur- ally of an ugly and jealous dis; osition—quick to resent aninjury, and slow to correct a wrong. You know we have never agreed, captain; and after we tore out that floodgate on Deer Creek, with which they had, in violation of all lumber- men’s river rights, cbstructed our passage, the threatened us. And now, perhaps, they thin there are only a few of us, and all drunk at that. and that itll be a good time to bu’st our floodgates.” ' “ As true as bever find out:that it was one of Bertraw’s men who fired that shot, just as true asI get back to camp alive, will I take my whole gang of choppers, loggers, and raftsmen and march down on those Canadians; and i ever blocd ran free on Michigan soil, it will be then and there,” and with this delivery the cap- tain drew a breath of relief. “Bravo! Glory! Second the motion!” shout- ed the redoubtable Josh Myers. “For fear we might be boarded, by some ene- mies,” said the captain, ‘‘ let every man see that his revolvers are ready for instant use.” When all bad examined their weapons, and the excitement had somewhat abated, Josh My- ers took out bis knife and began digging after the bullet that kad been lodged in the top of their table. The wood being ody and the bul- let having sunk deep, it required several minutes to accomplish this task; and when it was finally done, all were surprised to find it very small, of a peculiar color, and but little bruised in coming in contact with the oaken table, “By the living wonders!” exclaimed the cap- tain, in astonishment, the mcment his eyes fell upon the ball; ‘that, boys, isa copper bullet!” ‘‘Dancin’ dervishes!” cried Josh; ‘‘then none of Bertraw’s men fired the shot.” ‘‘No: but I daresay that bullet came from the copper regions of the northern peninsula,” re- plied tle captain. ‘Well, that’s a question that’s debatable, cap- tain. But whoever fired the shot, be he man or red-skin, or nigger, he has an object’in using that kind of a bullet,” observed Joshua Myers. “Yes, and whoever the unknown marksman is,” said Brannon, ‘I tell you he puts them in right nice, I don’t believe that shot was intend- ed to kill any of us.” “T am not so sure about that,” replied the captain; ‘‘ he range was a long one for a gun of so small a caliber; and yet the bullet could not have missed me an inch. I am of the sol- emn opinion that mischief—yea, murder—was intended; and hereafter we must keep on the alert, for I now have a presentiment that we will hear egain, and that to owr sorrow, from this unknown marksman.” CHAPTER II. STRANGE NIGHT VISITANTS. THE caj tain of the raft and his companions seated themselves in their tent again, but not to They were too deeply abdsorb- ed over the mysterious shot to play; andas they ciscussed the matter in serious tones they kept a close watch along either shore for the marks- man. The man at the helm was finally re‘ieved by Abe Brannon, and, as two men would have 1o remain up through the night, Josh Myers aud Budd Harris laid down to obtain a few hours’ sleep before the night-work came on. The captain was one of those eccentric indi- viduals given to presentiments. He was a man of some education, yet he was a little supeisti- tious, which either came of a guilty conscience or long association with men of rude habits and untutored minds. It has been said that the in- fluence of those around one wil! naturally draw his mind into the same channel, with their pre- ponderance of animal magnetism; and as the captain’s associates were men without. educa tion, perhaps he was partaking of their nature. But, that as it may, he me more and more uneasy as the day drew to a close, and go- ing out of the tent, as if-to give free range te his thoughts, he paced up and down the raft in silent meditation, And ere he was aware of the * It surely can’t be one of Bertraw’s men?” he b : ‘ | -
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The Giant Rifleman. 3 fact the shades of night were settling around him. Retracing his steps to the tent, he drank a couple glasses of liquor, then sat down and ate a cold lunch. Shortly after dark Budd Harris went to the helm, while Josh Myers with a lantern was sent forward to look out for obstructions, for other rafts were on the river, and as some raftsmen, especially those with small rafts, were in the hab- it of tying up at night, there was danger of get- ting wedged between the banks when running into one of those stationary booms. Night finally set in dark and f Not a breath of air was stirring. Afar off over the hills, the weird song of nocturnal voices were heard. With a gentle murmur the soontling waves dashed against the sides of the raft, an swashed and plashed between the logs. A few fire-flies trailed their glow through the darkness —even more brilliant than the lantern bobbing about on the forward end of the raft. Abe Brannon and Zeke Morris retired to rest, soon after their relief came on, and in a few minutes were wrapped in slumber. The captain sat down, for he had no desire to lay down; sleep with him was out of the question. An empty bottle served the purpose of a candlestick, while anotber, that was not empty, answered the cap- tain’s inordinate thirst for liquor. He sought re- lief for his excited mind in frequent draughts of the fiery liquid; but he was only feeding the de- mon of fear instead of driving it away. Thus he had spent poor an hour a Myers finally came to the door in a great hurry, his face blanched and his teeth fairly chattering. He motioned the captain to the door, and when | they were outside he drew him still further away from the tent and then said: ‘Captain, do you b’lieve in ghosts?” “Ghosts? what do you mean, man? are you scared out of your senses?” demanded the cap- tain. “Answer my question, won’t you?” returned Josh, with considerable emphasis. ‘Well, no; I don’t believe in ghosts, of course,” answered the other, though he manifested un- easiness in the very words he uttered. bs y the dancin’ dervishes! what was it I seen then?’ ‘“ Where—when?” “On this raft not five minutes ago.” “Well, what did it look like, Josh?’ soneny like a woman in a black hood and ro The captain forced out a dry, husky laugh. “Ycu are jesting, Myers,” he said. “Pl swear it, before heaven and earth, cap- tain, that I saw her as plain as I see you this holy, sanctified minute.’ “Did you speak to her?” “No; before I could git my heart out of my throat, and take breath, she vanished—floated ore into the darkness like a cloud.” “You must be mistaken, Josh—laboring un- der an optical delusion,” persisted the captain. “‘T hope I may never see the sun rise if I did- n't see a woman,” declared Mvers. “ You m: y think so, but still it may be only a freak of imagination. However, I will go with you and he]psearch the raft over. It may be some one—yea! it may be the unknown marksman, that has boar our raft under cover of this foggy night.” Side by side, and with no little trepidation, the two advanced and began searching the raft over, never taking into consideration the fact that the light they carried would warn an ene- my, if one was upon the raft, of their approach and thereby enable him to escape. Nor would an enemy have to leave the boom to elude the eyes and ears of the two men, since it was large enough for a person to dodge abvut at plea- sure. The raft was provided with four small skiffs —one being placed on each side and «ne on each end, to be used in case of emergency, which cases often arise. These boats they found in their place; nor did they find any other in which a foe had crossed over to their raft, as they had onperted they should. he two men made the circuit of the boom without discovering any trace of Myers’s ghost and having convinced themselves that nothing, nor any one, was about, Josh returned to his watch and the captain to his tent. The latter felt somewhat relieved of his feel- ings of uneasiness by their finding the raft clear; still he had recourse to the le on the table before him. He took a big drink of the liquor, and smacked his lips as though he had, for the first time, detected new flavor about it. a By Judas!” he exclaimed, holding the bottle up between the light and his eyes, “it can’t be that the boys bave been putting herbs into the jug: it tastes a little queerish.” ding no sediment in the bottle, he replaced it in the provision-chest; then leaning back, he rested his head on his palm, and again gave war.te reflection. His eyes soon closed, and his bead began to nod. The candle burned low —almost to the neck of the bottle in which it was fixed. Silence reigned within the tent— silence reigned without. Branton and Morris were sleeping: soundly, as was the captain, also, when suddenly a figure appeared inthe doorway. It wasasmall figure, which one would have taken for a woman’s, It was clothed in a sort of robe; or cloak, and hood of a light gray color. Over the face was a black vail, yet a pair of scintillating eyes blazed through its filmy folds, as they were darted here and there over the tent. For several moments the figure stood motion- less in the doorway, looking around the dimly- lighted apartment. ut at length it advanced with noiseless s‘ep, and paused before the siumbering captain. ‘ben it put out a hand that was small, shapely and white, and taking hold of the captain’s long beard, lifted it slowly upward, exposing the throat. This act, under ordinary circumstances, would have wakened almost any man, had the touch been that of mortal hands. But the captain slept on. Either those hands were spiritual hands, or else he was under a power that he could not shake off. With his long beard raised from his breast, and his white throat exposed, a great. livid scar, extending from among the ‘beard on the right jaw down across the throat was revealed. And as the eyes of the vailed figure rested upon this scar, a cry escaped its lips, and the barrel of a tiny pistol flashed from beneath its cloak. At this juncture, Abe Brannon, awakened b the ery, sprung to his feet. The act preven ed the murderous intention of the unknown, whe turned and fled out into the darkness. Brannon darted out in pursuit; but the dark- ness was so intense that he could see nothing, and so returned to the tent, roused his. com- panion, and yelled at the captain. But the lat- ter made no sign of waking. Brannon seized him by the shoulder and shook him violently; and by this means succeeded in arcusing him from his stupor. In a few brief sentences, Brannon narrated what he had seen, which greatly alarmed the captain, He started up, rubbed his eyes, and glared around him as if. in confusion of mind, Then he swore furiously at his men, and at once sent them out in search of the mysterious intruder. As soon as he was alone, he turned, and glaring down at the bottle in the corner, exclaimed: ‘“By heavens! that liquor has te2n drugged!” Like a mad‘jan, he then dashed out upon the raft, dipped up some water from between two logs in his hands, and bathed his feverish brow. This done, he paced to and fro across the raft to quiet his nerves and allay his sudden fears, He could see Myers moving about with the lantern on the forward end of the float, but all was silent now as tbe tomb! Finally the captain returned to the tent. The candle had, by this time, burned so short that the light was spluttering in the neck of the bottle, but in its dim, flickering light, he dis- covered a piece of pause and a pencil lying upon the table, which were not there when he went out. Of this he was positive. Some one had been in the tent since he had gone out! The captain started back amazed. He glared around the tent like one terrified; and while his eyes were on the side of the tent, he saw some- thing flash down the canvas. He knew that it was the pelane? blade of the knife, whcse keen edge had cuta long slit in the side of the tent. Then, almcst instantly, a huge hand, clasping a murderous-looking revolver, was thrust through the slit into the tent, while above the hand ap- poem a bearded face and a pair of deadly, lazing eyes. ' The captain was paralyzed at the sight of the atter. He felt their rays of diabolical enchantment numbing his very heart. His head, already dizzy and confused by + sae seemed to be spinning around and around, A thousand hor- rors flitted vaguely across his mind. The muzzle of the revolver that seemed like a circling tube of fire, appeared to approach and recede like a tantalizing demon in a horrible dream, ‘* Man!” suddenly spoke the stranger, in a tone that was as terrifying as his blazing eyes— “man, if you vaJue your life worth the saving, do as I bid you; before you lies a pencil an paper; take up the pencil and write—write, sir, command it—write, or die!” <i The captain mechanically took up the pencil ina Gar that trembled like an aspen. ““ What would you have me write?” he asked, in a tone that was a failure to appear calm. ‘““Write these werds: ‘With the muzzle of a revolver at my head, I am forced to write these words to save my life.’” The captain bent over the table and nervously wrote the words. ‘There, sir,” he said, when he had completed his task. “Sign it!” said the demon at the slit. Again the captain bent over the table; but he hesitated and looked up, “Sign, sir, 1 command you—sign it or die!” was the prompt and forcible entreaty. With a muttered oath, the captain wrote be- neath the words already written, the name, “* Randolph Spencer.” “That'll do—pass it here, quick!” exclaimed the hideous taskmaster, Captain Randolph Spencer handed’ him the paper, and as he placed it in Lis band, their eyes met, and to each it seemed as though an electric flash passed between them. At this very juncture—while the two stood face to face—the sharp report of a rifle rung out upon the night, and a groan of mortal agony came up from the forward end of the raft. The sound seemed to break the spell that enslaved the very soul and body of ndolph Spencer. and he started asif from a dream. He seize his own pistol and raised it, but that demon’s face was no longer at the slit. He rushed out into the darkness and listened. He heard the excited voices of his men at the lower end of the raft—nothing more. A startling thought flashed through his brain, and with an impre- a too horrible to repeat, he started toward em. On the way a shadowy figure swept past him. He challenged it, but there was no answer, and he fired his en in the direction it had gone. Further on he met Abe Brannon hurrying to- ward the tent. ‘*What’s the matter down here, Abe?’ he questioned, “Captain,” and the man spoke in a husky tone, ‘“* Josh Myers is dead!” “Dead!” exclaimed Spencer. ‘Yes; he was skot Cown by the hand of an unseen enemy—an any aboard this raft.” ‘““My God!” groaned the captain, pressing his throbbing temples with toth hands, “then our livesare all in peril. There are two enemies, at least, atcard this raft. One was at the tent when tue srot that killed Josh was fired.” “Yes, and I teli you, captain,” said Brannon, porte ed ‘*there isa woman on our raft, too. see’d her in the tent—I know I did; and she would have killed you if 1 hadn’t jumped up and scared ber away. Then, l’ve see'd her twice out here. She darts around over these slippery logs asthough she went on wings. Oh, tell you thar is no use talkin’, captain; this raft is haunted.” ‘* Haunted the devil! then the ghosts are ma- terial beings sent up from the depths of perdi- tion. Go bring pcor Josh’s body to the tent— be in a hurry, for there is work before us.” The body wes brought and laid in the tent, On examination it was found that he had been shot through the kead. The ball had entered near the center of the forehead, and passing through the head, had lodged at the back just under the skin. The captain, in his examina- tion, felt it, and with his knife removed it. To the surprise of al], the bullet had been but little dented, and as Spencer wiped the blood from it, a cry escaped his lips. It was a copper bullet! ** Ah!” cried the startld raftsman, “it is as I feared—again bave we heard, and to our sorrow, too, from that unknown marksman!” A silenco profound as the grave followed his words, and as if to add tothe silence, that which was still more embleinatical of death, the light ttered and flared in the neck of the bottle, then sunk and went out—leaving them in sha- dows—dark and cismal shadows that seemed to bave ushered them into that endless void of Eternity. CHAPTER ITI. ‘THE DEMON HEAD! DID YOU SEE IT?’—a DOCU- MENT. For fully five minutes Captain Spencer and his men stood in silence and darkness, speechless and dumb with a vague horror. But presently the captain rallied from his stupor and lita fresh candle. He glanced around him as its light spread, to assure himself that no enemy lurked within the tent. ‘* Boys,” he said, ‘‘ we must renew our search on this raft: I know there must be enemies]urk- ing upon it.” ey all went out and renewed their search, and when Captain Spencer passed round by the helmsman, be stopped and told him of Josh Myers’s death. The man was so startled by the news that in his excitement he neglected his duty so far as to let the raft drift out and lodge against the bank. And there they were—for the night atleast. And a long, dreary night it was —with the body of poor Josh lying before them —a terrible remincer of the unknown danger that lurked rourd them. As soon as day dawned, Josh was taken ashore and buried on the banks of tbe river, with no little feelings of sadness and regret. Then — went to work to put the raft afloat. For awhile it seemed as if they were doomed to remain there, and they were cnly too glad when the huge float swung clear of the bank and moved slowly away. To their regret, a slow, drizzling rain set in with the nigh: ; and had Abe Brannon, who was now at the helm, not known every crook and turn in the river, it would have been totally impossible for him to have kept clear of the An hour after night set it, the man on watch forward discovered a light some distance ahead of him, At first he took it to be a will-o’-the wisp, but he finally discovered that it was ap- proaching; and in afew minutes more a canoe with three occupants touched the raft forward, Budd Harris challenged them, and im reply received these words:
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4. The Giant Rifleman. “Tt's all right if this is Captain Spencer’s raft. can you make out of it? You seo both ends | Michigan than Nathan Darrall! His whole soul Tam James Trimble, of South Haven, and these | have been torn off, leaving no sense, whatever, fellows are my friends.” | to the reading.” ‘All right, Mr. Trimble; tho captain’s been | Captain Spencer emptied his glasss, moved his looking for you to meet us,” replied Harris. | chair closer to the table, and then gazed upon The men landed and drew their boat upon tho | the paper. logs..; Then Harris conducted them to the tent, | “ By gracious, Jeems,” exclaimed the captain, ‘*T am delighted to see you here to-night. It’s | so far as sketched. rather gloomy in here alone, but then it couldn’t | “Itell you what, James, that fellow under- be helped, for Ihave to keep all my men on | stands those rivers well; but there is nothing guard to prevent demons from boarding us.” | here to indicate the place where the papers are ‘““What?? exclaimed Trimble, setting his lan- | concealed. But now let me see what this read- tern on the table and removing his gum coat. “Sit down, and Tl teil you all,” said the | bran a sharp bethat bend is buried oak tree may captain. Trimblo sat Cown. Ho was a man of somo | senso of the right side, so let’s try the left— five-and-thirty years of ago, with a steel-gray | ‘main between the c north and hes there is nd cyeand rather prominent icatures, Aside from | and in the papers under ae in a tin box—help his vulgar display of jewelry ho had the appear- | you to, Thoms.’ Well, one can’t make head nor | onco and address of a gentleman. But thotruth | tail of that jumbled mess, true enough. The big- told, ho was the mest notorious gambler-in the | gest portion of the reading is torn off, and north-west, and hy this profession and some | don’t others, kad accumulated quite a valuable prop- © “Well, it won’t do to let it out of our hands. rtys | Some fool might study out the missing links, Trimble and Captain Spencer had been friends } and then—” for years—ihey had grown up together,and | ‘ We'd be paupers. It’d take more than we were how joint owners of a large tract of tim- | are now worth to lift a fifty thousand mortgage. ber-land on the South Black river, Trimble | Land, you see, has groatly depreciated in value knew about tho time his friend was to be down | within the past year; besides we have cut milil- with the boom, and had come up the river to | ions of feet of timber off the tract we mort- meet him, partly on business an pleasuro excursion. Spencer soon narrated the events that had partly on a | gaged. It’s true, the widow Darrall and her son Nattie are poor, but then they baven’t the business facilities or faculties to handle fifty eceurred aboard the raft the previous night; | thousand dollars, and so we might as well have then’ ho hunted a couple of plasses from the —— chest and fliled ths bottle out of the igejug in the corner, when the two drank to each other’s health. Trimble’s compznions had gone outand joined tho raftsmen in their watch, tor rafting wasa novelty to them. “Now, raftsman had cozccluded his story, and they had drank, ‘‘now I want to tell you my story, | | drained them to the dregs. and Lassuro you it is no more cheering than yours,” Then drink acain before you begin, Jeems.” | “Well, J wil,” and they drank once more. ‘* Now,” continued Trimble, ‘I was in Kala- reazeo two weeks ago, and while seated in the bawroom: cf the hotel there, an Indian, or T'venclyhalf-breed, came in and inquired if a young man named Darrall had stopped there reeently. Tho clerk pointed bim to the register for the information, bus he told him he couldn’t read and went out. “You say he inquired for Darrall?’ interrupt- ed Spericer. “Yes; and the name made me a little uneasy, | though I don’t seo w hy it should.” “Oz course not,” said the captain, sipping at a fresh glass of brandy. “Well, the fact of it is, it did make me un- easy, and I determined to know what that ig- norant lout had to say to Darrall; so, 1 got Lilly Jarvis to follow him and pass himself as young Nathan Darrall. He got the Indian into a saloon and filled him to the neck with whisky, then made Himself known. cross-questioned him he might have seen that he was an impostor; but then the red-skin was too crunk for that, and presently he said: ‘* Me come way from Mackinaw to find Nathan Darrall—me promise Thomas Thoms that me come and give him a letter, for Thoms was to be hung next day for killin’ a friend when drunk; and said be couldn’t die without con- fessin’ a great wrong he did to the Darralls, and making reparations for thesame. He said he had eonsceied some of great value to the Darralls, and no one else—” “Ah! those notes and that mortgage of curs!” exclaimed Spencer; “ fools that we were that we ever permitted that man to touch them papers.” “ But he told us they were destroyed—that he burned them.” “I know he did; but we’d ought to have known that Thomas Thoms was a great liar.” captain,” said Trimble, when the | dition, and our good it us for some one else to cheat them out of it. | Nevertheless, I should like to know the secret of | this torn paper.” *“*1t’s no odds to us so it remains a secret, captain.” ‘None at all, so here—drink to the widow’s health and Prosperity, te success in per- uck. They filled their —— to the brim, clinked them together, and raising them to their lips Had the Indian | ““Now, James,” said Spencer, ‘‘ wouldn’t it be just as well to reduce this paper to ashes—cre- ' mate it?’ “Twas just going to suggest that. Here, I have some fine cigars—light one with the pa- | per.” The captain took the cigar and placing it be- tween his lips rolled up the paper and thrust it over the blaze of the candle. belonged to a giant, was pushed suddenly into the tent through arent in the canvas, and the paper was snatched from Spencer’s fingers. My God! it’s gone! did you see that hand? That demon’s aboard us again!” : CHAPTER IV. THE BEE-HUNTERS. Our where the rays of the summer sun beat down unobstructed, it was hot and sultry; but in the forest, under the arcading branches of the stately pines, a cool breeze toyed with the green drapery of the boughs. A balmy fra- grance, sweet as that of the gardens of a sunny clime, pervaded the silvan halls of the grim old forest; and this, with the weird and dreamy song of Nature heard upon all sides, conspired to fill the souls of the three men, reclining by apers once that would be | ut before it had | | caught tire a huge hand and arm, that must have | | spoilt by a mule’s heel, in the shape of a rival's The captain carefully examined the map, and | | recognized every bend in the three Black rivers | | ing says: ‘on the black river-mouth of th’south | | God ‘find then—Thoms.’ Well, I can make no | lieve we can ever get at the meaning.” | | seemed a constant flow of good nature. And | yet there was, mingled with these very traits of indness and gentleness, a look indicative of a | desperate spirit when aroused by anger, a fear | less courage when face to face with danger. The three were dressed in buckskin breeches fancifully wrought by the skill{ul fingers of In- | dian women. Green velveteen jackets and wide- brimmed hats completed their dress, if we ex- cept the yellow buckskin shoes on their feet. ach one was provided with a rifle, a revol- ver and a sheath knife. On the river, flowing at their feet, was a long bateau, in which was their outfit for bee-hunt- ing, including a few cups of honey, three cr four tumblers of green glass, and an ax and hatchet. They were, under the direction of a guide, on their way up the river; but owing to the heat of the midday sun, which poured do’ n upon the river, they had gone ashore to await the cool of evening in which to continue their | journey. Shortly after landing their guide had left them, in quest of game for supper, he being a professional hunter. Deer an turkey were in the surrounding woods in abundance, and it was not necessary for their friend to be away long; but when the hours wore slowly away, and the sun sunk behind the western pines, they grew impatient and uneasy. “Tt seems tome Goliah has had ample time to kill a dozen deer and turkey,” said Frank Ballard. ‘T have an idea he hasn’t killed one yet, else | he would have keen in before this,” replied Nat- tie Darrall. “‘T don’t think he displays any great skill as a hunter—at least he basn’t done much since he’s been with us,” observed Ed. Mathews. **T think he’s too big for a hunter,” declared Nattie; “‘ then, besides, his mind seems always to be running on something besides game. Just like as any way he’s got tired of us and given us “Never,” exclaimed Ballard, firmly. “Il bet anything that he can be trusted through thick and thin, sunshine and shadow. But real- | the slip.” ly, I would like to have reached Alleghan to- ay, and spent the night in the Pottawattomie camp, with the old chief, Pokahgan.” _ say he has a handsome daughter,” ob- served Mathews, ‘“Yes, and I'll guarantee Nattie will fall in love with her, and get that Roman nose of his fist or little hatchet,” added Frank Ballard. “Humph! fall in love with the queen of Da- | buckskin he builds up a fire in a circle, lights his homey,” exclaimed Nattie. ‘I’ve never seen an Indian girl yet that could be compared toa mud fence with a bullfrog on it. But you fel- lows want to look out for your hearts, for if 1 have any admiration for a muley cow, you'll be sure to fall in love with an Ingin squaw. Why, I consider the red-skins a species of the bovine family. ““Why, Nattie, when did you enlarge your stock of information in natural history?’ ‘And don’t you know they shed their coats like serpents?’ continued Nattie. ‘‘ Why, it’s a mortal fact that when one gets a new suit of pipe and sits down in the circle. The heat of he fire warms the grease and accumulation of the Black river’s sweeping tide, with a vague | real estate, and presently dirt, rags and all slip longing, and that lulle r “The t A e three persons in question were profession- al bee-hunters, as their general outfit indicated. They were young men in the very flush of ycuth- ful vigor. their senses into quiet | off, and he comes out, bright as a Jure rose ready for his new suit. Now this is a fact— | know it. Bah! talk tome of love and beauty in an Indian camp!” ‘There,’ by Jove!” exclaimed Ed Mathews, The eldest was probably eight and | starting up; “that must have been Goliah’s twenty yeary of age, the youngest not more | shot.” than eighteen. Their general appearance and It was the sullén boom of a rifle that ceme re- address denoted no little mental and social cul- | scunding through the forest, and all started as ture, though there was an air of easy abandon if with sudden fear. about them that declared them to be a spirited and rollicking set of fellows, free from the | Frank. that was old Goliah’s rifle,” said * Surel 4 t can’t be that he is in trouble and strict requirements and social formalities of civ- | signaling for help.” ilization—free to roam at will—to hunt, to fish, ‘* For the sake of a little exercise, I believe I ** Well, we trusted him; but it seems he buried | to pour out the exuberance of their av will figure out that way and look afterhim,” re- the papers and now sends a map, with instruc- tions to the same in a mutilated condition, tell- ing the Darralls where to find the buried pa- ors. . The captain brought his fist down upon the ta- ble and uttered an oath. Tnen his face bright- ened: upagain, and he asked: “Have you that map and instructions, Jim?” “ Yos, thank the Lord; but I can’t make head nor tail outof it, for a slip has been torn off of each end. I presume the Indian did it to light hispipe, for he bad just about that much sense. Billy Jewvis accused him of it, but he denied it and sluuk away; but berois the paper,” he sai producing a wcrn and crumpled document an spreading itout before the captain. ‘‘Now,”he continued, “ this, written on the back of the pa- per, is all Lcan make out: “<Triends, on the inside ov this ere fs a map and traits that will tell ye wher te Seieonmiisee aes aes ‘ou one . “*THoMAS THoms.' ” 4 And there,” said the captain, turning the per over, “i. the map and’ instrostions: What Feline spirits in seasons of endless pleasures and a eat n woods of Michigan. Frank Ballard, the eldest of the three, was a man of rather prepossessing appearance. In form he was about medium size and straight as an Indian. His eyes were dark brown, large and mournful in expression. close, displaying a well-balanced brain. A light, brown mustache shaded his expressive mouth and gave additional strength to fine, manly appearance. Edward Mathews was about two-and-twenty years of age, and, like Frank, was possessed of a well developed physique, and features that were indicative of great force of character. Nathan Darrall, the youngest, was, in fact, but a boy in years; but in form no athlete ever a more perfect development. He was not large, but compactly built; and wiry and supple as a young panther. His eyes were dark blue and full of youthful fire, vigor and mischief, ‘was not considered hedecaees yet there was a natural, dashing antry about him that never failed to win the admiration of those with whom he chanced to meet. No jollier boy in al] ventures in the marked Mathews, and sheuldering his rifle he walked briskly away into the woods. Nattie and Frank rose to their feet and listen- ed intently for some sound that would relieve them of their anxiety and suspense; but the | heard nothing save the rush and roar of Spirit Ho wore his haircut Rapids to the north of them. Even the same- ness of this sound became so monotonous to the listening ears as to partake of the general | silence. But, suddenly, the trample of feet was heard, and turning, the young bee-hunters saw <, deer emerge from the shadows of the w and move down toward the river. Itwasa doe, rather’small, but with a coat as gl as silk, Its head was erect, its nose elevated, and its thin nostrils distended and quivering as though it scented danger. It walked slowly, but with proud and ful step, to the water’s brink, lowered its and drank. When it bad satisfied its thirst, it turned, and g up onto the bank, stopped and gazed around, as if tened. In an instant Nattie’s rifle was raised, and he was about to end the life of the meek-eyed
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The Giant Rifleman. fos, when Frank Ballard put out his hand and said: “Hold! Nattie; don’t fire!” ** Mortal Moses!” exclaimed Nattie, half pro- voked at being interrupted, ‘‘ what ails you?’ ‘Don’t fire upon that deer, Nattie, Don’t you see it is a tame one?” “Tt is, confound it!” exclaimed the youth, as he discovered tho red, glossy neck of the ani- mal encircled by a narrow blue ribbon! ** Who ever heard of such a thing as that before?” ** Ab!” exclaimed Frank, in a tone of strange exciteiment, ‘‘it tells me one thing, Nattie—that ribbon has been put there by fairy fingers, rest assured. By Jove! let uslook around. I must know who tle owner of that deer is. That rib. bon, there, on that doe’s neck, here in the wilds of Michigan, impresses me—’ “Hal! ha! ha!” laughed Nattie, so loud that the deer took fright and bounded away; ‘I verily believe you bave been smitten by the flut- ter of that ribbon, Frank.” Before Frank could reply, a singular lookin character emerged from the bushes, and pause before the astonished young bee-hunters. CHAPTER V. A STRANGE WARNING. Ir was an Indian that emerged from the bushes and confronted Frank and Nattie—a low-browed and dirty-looking Pottawattomie, whose face wore a malicious smile. He was un- armed, which was sufficient evidence of his friendship; still there was something in his sullen, hangdog countenance that was not cal- culated to inspire the young men with perfect confidence, at first sight. “How do?” the red-skin said, as he halted be- fore the bee-hunters. “Very well, thank you,” replied Nattie; ‘‘ how is your peg gen’ **Come tell white bee-hunters that the village of Pokahgan,” answered the ** Who do you mean by the guide?’ ‘The big white hunter.” ‘Do you mean to say that old Goliah Strong is at the Indian village now?’ ‘Yes: he came there tired and lame—then send Swift Wing after his friends to come— meet one friend and send ’im on—then come on for you—old guide say bringum boat, The Indian told his story so straight and with such an air of truth that our friends took no trouble to cross-question him, though they took a natural dislike to the fellow the moment the saw him, for his countenance on a white man’s face would bave been an index to a bad char- acter. However, the bee-hunters at once packed up and embarked in the bateau for the Indian village known as Aegan Nathan and the Indian used the and as they glided out into the river and turned up the stream, Frank Ballard became silent and thoughtful. His mind went back to the deer they had seen, and the ribbon upon its neck. Somehow or other, that very sight, trifling as it was, had impressed young Ballard strangely. He knew not why it was, for it was one of those unaccountable things that conjure up thoughts and feelings in the mind and heart that seem born of intuition. While revolving the matter in his mind, the report of a rifle on the northern shore startled him from his reverie, and forced a ery of sur- prise from Nattie’s lips. At the same instant, the Indian gave a.quick, convulsive jerk at the oars, then his head tell forward upon his breast ane be gasped for breath and rattled in the Nathan let go his oars and lifted the head of the Indian from its cram ition. As be did so, he saw a drop of blood ooze from a tin hole in the forehead and trail a crimson trac across the face. ‘*My heavens, Frank! this Indian has been murdered!” the youth exclaimed, “ right before our very eyes.” ‘‘What in the world can it mean?” replied Frank, glancing uneasily around him. ‘*I know that none of our friends fired the shot, for none of their rifles throw as small bul- lets as this that has killed tne red-skin.” ‘* Ah! by heavens, look there, Nattie!—stand on your guard!” suddenly exclaimed Frank. ‘River pirates! or ’'m a base lunatic,” cried Nattie, dropping his hand to the butt of his re- volver. The object that had so startled them wasa strange-looking craft that glided suddenly out from the mouth of a stream emptying into the river, and hitherto kept concealed by the dense, areading bushes that grew upon either shore. It was a small bark cauoe, finished off with ali the elaborate skill of Indian bandiwork. It was covered with an awning and hung upon all sides with a curtain of thin white canvas that con- pletely concealed the occupant from view. It was provided with oars instead of the cus- tomary paddle, and the easy and graceful man- ner in which they rose and fell evinced great skill in their management, This strange boat headed directly toward our friends, who, between the dead warrior and the piratical-looking craft, were in no little confu- viov of mind. Finally Nattie demanded: “ Who or what comes there?’ ide at dian, EEE Ee ee = There was no response, but the stranger con- tinued to advance and soon ran alongside our friends. ; With wildly-staring eyes the latter sat mo- tionless, their hands upon their revolvers, wait- ing for the curtain to be drawn aside, or for some demonstration, at least, on the part of the unknown. But to their surprise he remained under cover of his floating n, silent and mo- tionless, Through the thin white curtains they could see, en silhouette, the dark outlines of a slight figure, and what struck them as most re- markabie was its resembling the form of a wo- mati, Nattie was tempted to reach out and draw aside the curtain, but before he could muster up courage to do so,asmall white hand and arm were thrust from between the selvages of the curtains, In that hand, which left no doubt as to the sex of its owner, was held aslip of white paper which Frank received. “‘Read it,” came a soft, subdued voice from the interior of the sedan boat. Frank started at the sound of her voice, and with alow cry thrust out his hand to sweep aside the curtains; but the boat had glided be- yond his reach, and in a few moments later was ost to view among the drooping foliage. Frank now glanced at the paper in Tis thand. Upon it was written in pencil these words: “Stranger, be careful. Pokahgan, the Pottawat- tomie chief, is the white man’s friend, but not so with all his men. Some would murder you fora dollar. The one with you is a deceitful traitor, luring you into danger. Retrace your steps, and, I repeat it, be careful. ‘THE UNKNOWN Marksman.” Frank read the note with a shudder, but with- out a word he passed it to Nattie to read. Both were completely astonished—not so much by the warning as by the name signed to t. eee is the Unknown Marksman?’ asked attie. “T don’t know; I never heard of him before. He must have slain this Indian,” replied Frank, in a strange tone. “That was a woman in that boat, Frank.” ‘I know it, Nattie, and would give five years of my life to see her. When she spoke, her voice seemed to ccho through the very fibers of my heart.” ‘I dare say her fingers put that ribbon ryan that doe’s neck; but, Frank, you are ex- cited. “I know it, but never mind, Nattie. Do you think she is the Unknown Marksman?” “Of course not; this is written in a bold, manly hand; but, Frank, I am afraid Goliah and Ed are in trouble. That Indian seemed to have understood all about our big guide and companion, and if he meant to lure us into dan- ger, two to one our guide and Ed have met with danger.” . st Well what ere we to do?’ questioned rank. “Toss this dead Ananias overboard and re- turn to where the boys left us, and wait for them until we are satisfied they are not coming; then we can decide on our future course.” So saying, they consigned the body of the In- dian to a watery grave, then tacked about and returned to the place where they were halted when their two friends left them. The bee-hunters now guarded their situation with extreme caution, for they were in a coun- try of which they knew little, and of whose peo- le they knew less. Hitherto their labors had ab confined to Kalamazoo, and what they had learned of the Indians’ character wes among the friendly tribes on the head-waters of that stream. They had learned that although the red-men were peaceable and friendly, many of them were given to petty thieving and crimes, Goh wrould not hesitate to stab a man in the r pressed by the events of the last half-hour; and whie they were discussing their future move- ments, Ed Mathews, to their great relief, re- turned. But he brought no word of their guide, Goliah Strong. _ Frank Ballard narrated what had transpired since he left them, and showed him the warning of the Unknown Marksman, _Mathews was already excited when he ar- rived at camp; this his comrades saw and at- tributed to some adventure while absent; but when he had read the paper he said: “‘T believe it—that the Indians are bent upon mischief, for I crossed a fresh trail out here leading south-east, and shortly afterward I saw an Indian with a gun skulking from tree to tree as if shadowing something or some one. If old Goliah is not already in trouble, I am afraid that party will find him, Boys, I think it would be prudent for us to drop down the river into a milder climate. What say you, boys?” ‘‘Anything for bees-wax and safety,” re- sponded young Darrall. ‘‘T am svre I have no desire to remain here and encounter that Unknown Marksman if he bie all as he did our red Ananias,” replied rank, “No. Yon’d rather encounter his daughter ~—she of the covered buat, white band and arm, Nattie saw that his oy ae was Ceeply im- 5 — and soft, witching voice,” replied Na‘tie, with a mischievous sparkle of the eye. ‘Frank is bound to fall in love with something yet before he dies, and when he does center, that. heart of twenty-eight years growth upon a woman, itll be there like unto oue of the permanent fixtures of the universe.” Alas! Nattie knew little of Frank Ballard’s heart, else he would not have spoken so lightly of it. He had little idea of the secret that. lay buried in its inmost recesses; and as he spoke, Frank turned toward the river to conceal his emotions, and said: ‘* Ah, Nattie, you are a wild boy, and-J pray that your young heart may never grow heavy with the wrongs of a wicked world as—but this is no time for moralizing, so let us embark at once.” Entering the boat they pushed out from shore and dropped silently down the river. Night was approaching, and before they had journeyed far they began discussing the subject ofa nightencampment. It was finally agreed that they return to their previous night’s camp before halting. This was some three miles fur- ther down. Anisland was the point in ques- tion; there they had cached a Jarge amount of honey until they should return down the river. It was an admirable place for defensive opera- tions, and a point where their absent guide would be as likely to find them as any other should he escape all dangers. Night came on long before they reached their destination; but the moon sailed aloft into the azure depths of night and flooded the river and forest with a mellow glow. They pulled on and finally reached the island —a little sand-bar covered with drift, and fringed around with adense growth of. short water-willows. Nattie was the first to leap ashore, and almost the first thing that arrested his attention wasa number of huge tracks in = sand where the willows had been trampled down, But they were not human tracks—they were the tracks of bears. Some were large and some small; and when they saw their honey cache had been torn open and ravaged of many aday’s hard labor, they knew what had attracted the rapacious honey thieves to the island. ‘ Well, this is vexation itself,” Na(tie exclaim- ed, as regarded the gutted cache with sore ‘We'd ought to have been more careful in covering the pit,” said Ballard. “Immaculate Moses! more careful? who ever sup that a family of hungry bears was waiting and watching—” ‘* Hark!” interrupted Ed Mathews. A movement in the willows arrested their at- tention, and the next moment they saw a young walk out of the willows andapproach their canoe which had been partly beached on the upper side of the island. Stopping near the yer of the craft the animal sniffed around it, hen deliberately climbed into the boat and be gan an exploration for the bee-hunters’ honey- cups. “The infernal, impudent brute,’ muttered Nattie; ‘' I'll stop that,” and he raised .bis gun to fire. But at this juncture another bear—a male of huge proportions—issued from the bushes and approacked the boat. Reaching the row, the animal reared up, and -placing its ore paws on the end of the craft, was about to leap in, when the bateau gave way before its ponderous weight and shot ont into the river, and was carried away by the currejit. . The big bear sat down upon his hnunches, sniffed the air and looked longingly after the boat that was floating away with its companion that seemed, in noways, disconcerted by its sud- den departure; but rather pleased. over, the idea of having the bee-hunters’ supplies all to if. “T’ll settle with that old cuss, confound him!” exclaimed Nattie, and raising his rifle 1 fired at the big bear. But, under the excitcns nt of the moment, his aim had been unsteady; the bear was only wounded in the shoulder; and with a fierce growl, it charged upon the authors of its pain. ‘ 3 boys, run!” cried Nattie, taking to his eels. Ed and Frank discharged their guns at the animal, though without any other effect than to increase its pain and fury, then turned and fled after the light-heeled Nattie across the island, At this juncture, three more bears, a female and two cubs, emerged from the bushes and joined in the pursuit, for the scent of their com- panion’s b had aroused then. As if izant of the fact that Nattie was the author of his suffering, the wounded bear seem- ed to single him out for his first victim, Seeing this, Ed and Frank ran in a different direction, and taking advantage of this diversion, they hastily reloaded their rifles and opened fire.on the animals. They succeeded in killing the fe- male and her cubs, but the male seemed to bear a charmed life, and the more shois he, received the greater became his speed and anger. He was now crowding close wpon Nattie’s heels, The willows were no more impediment to hi eAyance than as much grass would have been, this enabled him to gain upon the boy, Ig 4
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and out cf tho moonlicht and bushes the two lided, Nettis exerting every effort to elude the st, whilo!*o laticr, wilh giuring eyes, open mouth, cnd llood-dripping sides, shuffled on elose bel:ind. Whenever (he bear came in sight Ed and Fran, from their coverts fired upon it. The last {imo it ar peared, however, it was not ten fect from Nat iie; and as the youth again disap- peared in the bushes they felt that the last hope was gone. A moment ijater they heard a cry anda double plash in the water. “ly Gor, Ed! it has forced him inthe river!” eried Fran <. They bvunded from the bushes and hurried across th.e island to the water’s edge. They saw the beer struggling in the waves, but Nattie was nowb»re to be seen. , “he bear has borne him down under ‘the wees!” cried Ed, in an agony of suspense. A rustling in the bushes to their right arrest- ’d their attention, and the next instant they saw the lithe, graceful figure of an animal launch out into the stream and swim toward the bear. It was immediately followed by another and &till another, until six of them had left the island and attacked the bear. A fearful and deadly struggle now ensued in the river between bruin and the other animals. Dur two friends watched the conflict with t bagerness, expecting to see Nattie’s form rise to the surfaee; but in this they were disappointed, He was nowhere to be seen, and they were about to call to him when the form of a man’ pushed through the willows to the right and approath- td them, holding his sides and laughing till’ his whole frame shook as with an ague chill. This strange being was dressed in a suit of buck-skin made in the regular border style. »On his head he wore a cap wade of the fur of the wolverine, the head of the animal being ar- ranged in front and in such a manner that the nose answered for a peak to the cap) while the ears were pricked up as if still possessed of life and cowardly fear. “Great gora’mighty, friends! isn’t that one o’ the most dee-lightful, friskiest concentration of —— powers ye ever clapped yer optics on?” emanded the stranger, in a rollicking tone, be- tween fits of hearty laughter. ‘‘ Why, just dis- kiver that old b’ar—ha! ha! ha!—spin round’and round hke a big turbine water-wheel; and ‘see those boys o’ mine how they sail in on their mus- cle. Ha! ha! ha! gents, that’s one o’ the most dee-licious, superb ramifactions that Old Wolve- rine ever had the pleasure o’ gittin’ up. Yoop! sail in, boys!” ‘* Indeed! are you Old Wolverine, the Wolf- Hunter?” asked Frank Ballard. “T be, sir, that very ole daisy, and it strikes me in the region of the cerebellum that we me- andered hereaways just about the appointed time to save your friend.” “But we are not sure he is safe,” answered Mathews. “‘ Safe as a dollar in a Jew’s pocket; he dodged the b’ar arter he jumped into the warter and swum around the island.” A moment later, Nattie, soaked to the’ skin, made his appearance. A shout of joy burst from the lips of his friends. “TI say, youngster,” said Old Wolverine, as familiarly as though he had always known the bee-hunters, ‘‘ you made some purty lively mo- tions, now didn’t ye?” “Well, stranger,” said Nattie, “I rather imagine I did, and I think I had reasons for my actions, too; but are those your dogs that tackled that bear?” “They are for a factorum,” answered Old Wolverine, “and now, don’t you forgit it, that b’ar 'll git his solar system eclipsed from center to conference. Them ’are dogs knows as. well as a surgeon whar to feel for a tender spot. I’ve Yarnt ’em, ye see. They know just whar to close on a b’ar, deer or wolverine. Why I’ve act’ly see’d old Baltic, that’s my bull-dog, as what is a reg’ler snorter, snap a catamount in two so slick and easy that each eend went flyin’ in opposite directions—oh, a hundred yards or more apart. Now, that’s a fact. Yoop! hur- rah thar, boys! Wool him, Baltic! bleed him, Fleetfoot! stab him, Mellow Tongue!” and the old hunter clapped his hands and shouted at his dogs until the very night resounded with the re- verberation of his powerful lungs. The fight between the dogs and bear continued in the water, The latter acted upon the defen- sive altogether, and was at last compelled, through sheer Joss of blood and exhaustion, to yield, to overwhelming numbers, the life he had clung to so tenaciously. Old Wolverine now called his dogs ashore, and advancing to the center of the island where the moonlight fell unobstructed, calmly seated himself a the carcass of one of the bears slain b and Frank. Then, one by one, he called his six dogs to him and looked them care- fully over for wounds; and when assured that they had received no serious ee td he said: “These ‘ere dorgs I call the Old’ Guard, ’ca’se as what they areinfalible. These two ”—refer- ring to two tall, slender grayhounds—"‘I cal! Mel- low Tongue and Ficetfoot, The one has a voice as charming as a flute, and soft and musical as Moorish widders’ ; and t’other’n can run so fast that the heat created by friction ’g’inst the air ‘Il singe his hair—look thar if you don’t b’lieve it! Then, here comes ole Patsy and Liner—two as good fox-hounds as ever led a trail or swaller- eda loaf of corn-pone. And thar, then, is Cu- bic, as sagacious a mongrel as ever throttled a wolverine or a the heels of a stag; and, lastly, thar is the reserved force of the Old Guard, Baltic. You see his nationality in his countenance—a bull-dorg. He’d tip the beam at ‘two hundred avoirdupois. Jist look at ’em chops, boys; why, they hang like saddle-skirts over’ jaws that’s stronger than an iron vise. I tell ye'that dorg, Baltic, is one chunk of muscle from the eend of his nose to the tip o’ his tail, even if the tail isn’t but three inches long. Ha! ha!me‘and my loves, boys, have had hundreds of grand ole frolics together in these ’ere woods. We like it—we’ve been raised in these woods, e might say; and, don’t you forgit that we’ve er a sort of epedemic among the wolverines, on ‘which the State pays a very nice little bounty.” “ How came you over on this island?’ asked Nattie. ‘““Why, we heard you a-firin’ and supposed a fight was goin’ atwixt some raftsmen, and so we came ‘over to inquire into it. We war comin’ the river in a boat, and when we see’d it was- n't raftsmen fightin’, we couldn’t tell what war up until we got right up bere; then we see’d that boy reel off into the river and the b’ar arter him, and knowed what the racket meant. So I epoke to the Old Guard, and away went the ogs of war.” the rollicking and whimsical old wolf- hunter concluded his speech he carelessly threw his arm around Baltic’s neck and began hum- ming to himself: “ Over the hills and far away, Over the bills and far away, Over the hi—Us and far a—way, etc.” His voice was not unmusical. There was a plaintive melody in its strains that at once ap- pealed to the inner soul of his audience. When he had ended his song and apparent musings, Ed said: “Wolverine, did you see our boat going down the river, with a bear in it?” ** 1 saw a boat jist below here, but I didn’t no- tice a b’ar in it—in fact, I jist glanced at it, and as I seen no person in it, I paid no furder atten- tion to it. ow come a b’ar in your boat?” ‘Hd told him how the cub went adrift—elicit- ing a roar of laughter from Old Wolverine. aving reposed perfect confidence in the hunter from the first, Frank now went on and narrated their adventure of the day; and asked tbe old borderman’s opinion of the same. “Wall,” he began, “it’s a leetle mixed in my mind as to real facts. I’ve hearn that the In- gins war gittin’ as fidgety as a hypocrite on the mourner’s bench, but I don’t b’lieve they’d dare come out ppeniy ag’inst the whites. Old Pokah- gan is too smart a chief not to see the result of sich an escapade, But tell you whar I think the trouble is: this country is full of lumber- men, bark-peelers and shingle-weavers; and among the many hundreds of them there are pv toate of mean, ornery critters who come out here to escape justice and pertend to work. Thar’s Bertraw’s camp made up of Canadians; some of ’em—in fact, most of ‘em—are good men; but there are some meaner than the pro- prietor o’ the sulpher-pit hisself. Same wey with Spencer’s men—ditto the settlers and In- dians. As sinful souls love the night, these fel- lows are drawn together by a nateral affinity, and together they concoct and doa great deal of mean things. Howsumever, the Unknown Marksman’s proving an epidemic tosome 0’ that class o’ pilgrims.” “« Who is the Unknown Marksman? and'what’s our opinion of him, Wolverine?” asked Bal- “TI think he’s a nee ry * yest mies = ae me eve as old Mellow Tongue is of his frail Thst’s eli I know ‘bout him, and, in fact, is all T want to know.” ‘* Which way are you traveling now?” asked Nattie. ‘Goin’ up the river on a big deer-hunt; that’s rattlin’ fine sport, bors Jist let me strike a trail and then give Mellow Tongue the lead, and ob, land of the blessed! Sich ravishin’ music! Why, it would drive you into ecstasies—yea, you'd expire with delight to hear the Old Guard sing as they string out through the woods. With Mellow Tongue in the lead and old Baltic ’bout a half-mile behind, that trail becomes a gamut of music. Didn’t you ever hear a pack like that on the trail of a festive fox?—you didn’t*+—well, then, you’ve still sumthin’ to live for. I’m goin’ up the river now, and if you fellers want to take with me, and wouldn’t care to ll me now and then at the oars, why, come ong, my Josies, and we'll have some rare old 4 Ob I tell ye, I’m none o’ yer sedates— I’m as frisky asa festive mule, and can stand more fun and frolic than any youngster in Michigan.” \ “But we were going down the river,” said Frank; ‘besides we are bee-hunters.” ‘* Bee-hunters+—well, now, don’t you forgit it, +4 gents, that I can take you right slap-dab whar the bees are thicker thau grains of sand on the desert Salharah, or cranberries in the Blue Marsh. Why, it’s a fact, they’re so plenty, more or less, that they can’t find holler trees enough to ry their honey in; and so they jist stick it right in ees dee branches. Why, the trees up t are all glaumed over with honey, Bears jist have rollicking times up thar.” And, notwithstanding his wonderful exagee rations, the bee-hunters took passage with t old hunter and started back up the river, stil: in hopes that they would find Goliah Strong, their guide. CHAPTER V. THE MYSTER™ OF SPIRIT RAPIDS. As the four men journeyed slowly wp the river, they discussed the absence of Goliah Strong and the appearance of the strange wo- man in the covered boat, as well as the death of the Indian, Swift-wing. **T shouldn’t wonder,” said Old Wolverine, “but what that Unknown Marksman was quar- tered up that way. If so, I wouldn’t be afeard to call on him.” ‘Perhaps. you might get a bullet through your brain,” Nattie suggested, ““T hope not; but if pes | of the kind should happen, boys, don’t let the Old Guard come to grief. Ole Mellow Tongue’s olfactories are so keen that you could soon train him to track a bee through the air like a flirt. But then, I don’t want to go yit—I’m not ready to die,” and as he concluded he tegan softly whist- ling: $ “Over the hills and far away,” at the same time keeping time with the measur- ed strokes of the oars, Mentally, each of the bee-hunters pronounced Old Wolverine a genial old fellow, full of 10l- licking sport and whimsical expression not alto- gether devoid of some philosophy; and he con- agence nor himself upon their having fallen into is companionship. A few hours’ rowing brought them back to the mouth of the Sout! Black river, Castle Island and Spirit Rapids. Castle Island was a rocky promontory shared like a wedge, and splitting the waters of the South Black betore it emptied into the main river. The waters that passed to the right of the island flowed in a strong current down through a narrow chann:1 almost under tho bigh rocky walls of the island, while the muin volume of water that passed to the left of the island, broke into wild, tossing rapids. Tho island was covered with a dense growth of scrubby pines, and was inaccessible. The right side and the end overlooking the Black river proper, was guarded by high, project- ing walls; while on the left side the rapids made it impossible for any human being to cross to the island. At least it seemed so to a casual observer watching the sweeping, tossing, twist- ing waters. he moon was in the zenith when our friends reached this point. Castle Island, as some ima- ginative genius had named it, stood out against the northern sky like some old castellated ruins, true enough; while a white mist hung over Spirit Rapids, in which the same genius must have imagined he could see spiritual forms hov- ering over the seething waters, “Td give all my right, title and interest in urgatory to git into Castle Island,” remarked ld Wolverine, as they stood out before the im- posing island. ‘It seems to be unapproachable,” said Nattie. “Perpendicular walls fifty feet high on one side = _ and me — by water, and the other side guar e rapids. And yet, I believe it is inhabited.” . we ‘“‘Impessible!” replied young Mathews; “no one could scale those crumbly walls; while to cross the rapids would be entirely out of the question.” ‘* Wal, boys, I'm goin’ to see just how fur into the rapids we can git, jist for fun. This beat is stout as a. man-o’-war,” said Old Wolverine, and witbout bey his companions’ feelings on the subject, he deliberately turned the craft out of the main river into thé mouth of the south branch, and started toward the rapids. They soon approached so close that they could feel the falling spray upon their bands and faces, and the boat rock under the agitated waters. “IT should think we were about close enough to the rapids, friend aor caoere Frank, . much as we can n nothing by go pre ey oie aan rat oe “T jist. want to try you fellers’ nerves,” said the old man; “if we could git five rods furder Up, we could make the island like a top by sidling off-head the current. So don't git skeery, boys.” Frank again entered a protest against what seemed a useless and reckless adventure, Lut the old hunter, determined to reach the island if possible, pulled with all his powcr against the y had fone probably two rods further when Mellow Tongue suddenly thrust bis noge into the air and gave a low, uneasy whine,
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“ Trearthat, VW/clverine?” asked Nattio; “‘ your dor knows we're running into danger.” “Dy the great Pyramids!” exclaimed Old Wolverine; “it is not that—lock thar! Tgik *bout thar bein’ no sich things as spirits and Tu ink this river dry!” The o!d man pointed toward the shore and a little in advance of them, and looking in the ¢i- rection thus indicated, the btce-hunters were rendered specchless by the sight of a form mov- ing across the rapids—«till closer todanger than they were. It was a form wearing a long, crayish-locking gown and a white hood ccm- Jletely covering head and form. Both arms were extended, and tho white sleeves of the carment gave them tho appearance of vampire wings. The hunters were impressed with a strange, rysterious fear bordering on superstition, tor they locked ES what seemed a supernatural being. Old Wolverine bade bis dogs be silent, while with distended eyes he watched the ap- parition. It was moving across the river to- ward the island; and it was walking, or rather floating across the current of the rapids—the skirts of its cloak trailing and twisting about its feet on the surface of the eddying waters, Slowly it passed before them—drifted on through the mist and sweeping tide, and finally disappeared in the shadows of the island. Old Wolverine drew a breath of relief; the bee bunters rallied from their awesome stupor. ‘Darn my riggin’!” burst from the lips of the hunter. y “What coes that mean? I don’t understand it,” said Nattie Darra‘. ‘*It beats the miracle on old Galilee; if my eyes didn’t deceive me, I think I sce’d a human critter walk deliberately and fearlessly across the river on the water.” ‘* We all saw it,” affirmed Frank, in an earn- est tone. “Then, by gee-hokey, it ws a spirit!” de- elared Old Wolverine. ‘‘ Nothin’ else could walk the water like that—ay, these are Spirit Rapids, boys!” “It’s all bosh!” protested the brave Nattie Darrall; ‘I believe there is a stone toot-bridge along there,” ‘Oh, the improbabilites of lenge !” cried ‘the hunter; ‘‘a foot-bridge could be thrown across the Styx as easy as’em rapids. I tell you—but doleful sound! thar goes another!” True enough; a second figure clad in misty gray, with extended arms, was seen to be mov- ng across the river on the surface of the water. It could not be seen so distinctly as the first however; the hunters, in their excitement, had permitted the current to carry their boat back some distance from the res They watched the shadowy form, however, until it had disa) ; then Old Wolverine drew a long breath and exclaimed: ‘‘ Boys, this is more pressure on my nervous system than I like. I can stand the hug of a bar, the kick of a hornit, or thenightmare; but I'll be durned if I want to be skeered to death by. royal, ginuwine mgooes I tell ye these ra- piss are ha’nted by the spirits of those dashed mi ipsapes among the rocks, I alers heard it “I don’t believe it,” interrupted the boy hero. Nattie Darrall; ‘1'believe there is uneilod material in what we have seen, and am in favor of investigating the matter. I am now satisfied that we can venture up to where the apparitions vrossed. I’m not afraid to go where any other person can.” ‘Well, blest if Wolverine and the Old Guard van’t go where any boy can,” declared the old Lunter; ‘‘and so here goes, spirit or no spirit.” The old hunter plied his oars with all his strength and skill, and by a determined effort tucceeded in stemming the writhing current to about the point where the apparitions crossed ; Lut, to their surprise, they found no foot-bridge there--nothing but ry, foaming water upon ph their boat rocked and tossed like an egg- she For a minute the whole party was completely dumbfounded. Despite their better education, the bee-hunters now found themselves undergo- ing that vague, superstitious fear born of doubt and uncertainty, m consequence of what they had witnessed—a sight which they could not ac- count for, and, therefore, involving a necessity for the supernatural. And with this feeling stealing over them, the roar of the rapids seemed blended with ghostly voices, and the aping waters imbued with a ghostly spirit. - At length Nattie said: t “Tf I see another of those apparitions, I shali reach for it;” and cocking his gun, he laid it across his lap, ready for instant use. “ They say lead will not burt “nguors or witch —that nothing but a silver builet will touch them,” observed O'd Wolverine, trying to ap ear calm; ‘‘ but if the Old Guard only had good ooting, I'll bet they’d snake in yer gbostship in a jiffy. Why, boys, ole Mellow Tongue could track a whale across tie ocean; and with him in the lead and Baltic in rear, I tell ye the brine ’d fly from thar heels, Wolverine-luntin’s gittin’ to be dull, ’ca’se, when Mellow Tonguo sounds the kevnote, the wolf, jist stops and ar- ranges its throat for Baltic’s teeth and—dies, The Giant Rifleman. And then—boy, do you see that?—thar goes an- other o’ them critters—that’s a little one—must be a young ghost.” A third a)parition had appeared from the shore and was moving across the river toward the island. Like the otheis, it was clad in a hood and cloak of spectral gray; yet it enoeenee to be considerably smaller than those that had preceded if. By this time the boat had again drifted awa from tke line traversed by the unknown; and, although the form could be but dimly seen through the mist, Nattie resolved to fire upon i With a strange uncertainty and misgiving, he raised Lis gun, and, taking careful aim, fired. The report of the piece sounded dead and sullen, and it had scarcely jarred upon the ears of the little party ere a heartrending and piercing scream rent the night, and the apparition was scen to sink upon the bosom of the water. ‘““My God!” cried Nattie, ‘‘ that was a human cry—the cry of a woman! Pull, Wolverine, pull to the rescue, though I be a murderer!” — souteg Poe to - oars _ — the sharp-prowe t speeding against the cur- wes Into the very edge of the rapids he pulled. : Frank Ballard is in the prow and with dis- tended eyes he searches for the body of the youth’s victim. He recs an cbject rise to the surface on the left. He secs a pair of arms buf- feting the waves. “To the leit, Wolverine, to the left!” he shouts. They turned tho boat to the left. It shot like a dart alongside the body. Frank made a grab at it and seized a human form by the wrist; Lut at this instant the boat struck a hidden rock and capsized. All were thrown headlong into the water, and the next moment were ruthlessly swept away on the bosom of the river. CHAPTER VL THE CAMP OF THE SHINGLE-WEAVERS. THE ring of many axes, the crash and roar of falling trees, the raps of ‘‘cross-cut” saws, the crack of heavy ox-whips, and the shouts of ox- drivers resounded through the forest of the Black river of Michigan. Busy as bees worked the little army of lumbermen—some of them stripped to the waist, their great muscular arms and breasts rising and falling with the swing of their axes—others with their heads bared and their bronzed, bearded faces sweltering with the summer heat, , One by one the great forest monarchs went down, and little by little the sunlight was let in upon the damp, mossy ground, where, for centuries, perhaps, dismal shadows had lurked. A mile from where this work was going on, were the homes of the laborers—lumbermen as they were called. The place was known as — Spencer—named in konor of Captain Randolph Spencer, who owned a share in the vast tract of timber-lands x eran gr 2 the place and who personally superintended the work o both “logeing” and “rafting.” A score of log cabins, a few outhouses, sheds and stables made up Camp Spencer. Some of the men had brought their families with them into the great woods and were at home there. The place was Spee with a post-office—a great convenience 0 those whoso homes and whose families were far away; once a week they had a mail, and were thereby kept das to the outside world and affairs at home. Captain Spencer employed a force of seven- ty-five men. ' The most of these were engaged as choppers, and the rest as raftsmen and ‘log- drivers.” The duty of the last-named was ra- ther precarious and Ciflicult, It sometimes be- came necessary to float logs a number of miles down the river before they were formed into a raft. This was either owing to shallow water or recently-formed sand-bars that would not admit the passage of a large raft. So a large number of logs were rolled into the river, when a ‘‘ driver” with a long pole would straddle one in the center, then, by means of bis pole, keep as many logs as he could reach in the current; and in this manner float them down-stream. Any one who has attempted the feat of riding a log in the water can conceive the difficulty of * log-driving.” A few of Spencer’s men were detailed as fora- ers, and one or two good shots as bunters. The ormer with teams were sent out to the distant settlements for general supplies, while the latter procured such game as abounded in the Michi- gan woods. Deer, turkey, squirrel and bear, with the choicest of black and speckled bass and pickerel from Saddle and White lakes were some of the substantial focd of the hardy Michigan lumber- men; to which was added a dessert from the great cranberry and whortleberry marshes, and the choicest maple sugar from the Grand Tra- verse camps. Captain Spencer was himself a great hunter, He labored but little unless it was upon the chase, where cny lazy man will exert himself apparently, keyond human endurance. He was aman somewhat after the style of an English, / *4 rifle, a pack of blooded hounds, and fast horses. All three of these the captain posses:ed.. His hounds were some of the finest-blcoded animals in the country, and numbered ten. Four of these were stag-hounds, four Engish. gray- hounds and two imported Cuban Llood)ounds. The captain usually spent Lis afternoons. in the woods with gun and dcgs; and as he set out one day on his usual hunt—uearly a year after his adventures on a raft as recorded in a pre- vious chapter—all noticed that he was arrayed in bis best hunting attire; and that there was a smile upon his face—a lightness in his step. His hounds, coupled in pairs, trailed along at his heels. In fact, the man’s face did wear a lock differ- ing greatly from that worn that mcmorable night cn the raft. He had shaved his great beard off. Only a heavy mustache vf all that hirsuit worn a year before, now remained vpon lis face. And the change was for the better, for the captain locked several years younger and more prepossessing, though a livid scar, running down acrcss the cheek and throat, some- what marred the regularity of his features. After leaving his office at the camp, he saun- tered leisurely across the clearing Letween the buildings and. the main woods, stopping occa- sionally to speak to some chcppers, or give some Cirection to a gang ** boss” who cid not fail to notice the exuberance of his spirits, Abe Bran- non, who noticed the smile upon his face, thought he had finally outgrown the terrers. that had been stamped upon his very soul and face a year previous when Josh Myers lay dead in the tent on the raft. He thought the captain had for- gotten all about that night, aud inwardly longed to remind hiw of the fact. Passing his workmen, Spercer went on into the deep weods where the vancalism of man had not extended—where the shadows were cee almost as twilight. He seemed familar wit his course; though he followed no trail or path, Nor did he expect to find game so clore to the ranch, for, instead of observing the precaution ofa hunter, he went whistling to Limcelf eas though in deep thcught. He had journeyed come fcur cr five miles when a sound, like that made by the blow of a wooden mallet upon iron, fell upon bis ears... It ceme down from the hollow in advance ot bim; but he seemed to know what it meant, for be moved on toward the point from whenee it emanated, and socn came in sight of a low, but, near which three men were at work. One of these men, witha froe and mallet, was riving shingles from blocks of wood that had been pre- viously sawn into proper lengths. 1t was ihe blow of his mallet upon the iron froe that the captain bad heard. The other two men with sharp Crawing-knives were seated at ‘shay ng- horses,” shaving down the rough sides and rag- ged edges of the shingles and preparing them or matket. The camp of these ‘‘ Shingle- Weavers,” as this class of men are known in the parlance of the lumber regions, was situated in a dark and dis- mal valley under some old cak monarchs where it seemed that none but dejected spirits could live. But these camps were usually located in the midst of the finest timber, for only the very best trees were used in making shaved shingles. The appearance of the three ‘‘ weavers” was rather renarkeble for men of that class. They were all of slight forms, fair complexion and in- tellectual appeavance. By the size and color of their hands, oue would not suppose they were laboring men; yet the great pile of shingles around them bcre witness to their unceasing labor and industry. “Gocd afternoon, my jolly weavers,” ex- claimed Spencer, running onto them belore they were awzre of h's presence. “Hullo! howdy, captain?’ they exclaimed, laying down their tools and removing the band- kerchicfs that were tied round their heads, “Hard at work are you, boys, toiling your lives away down bere in Eades! “ Ay, captain,” pepoedas the river, ‘‘ we were | born under an unlucky star.” i ‘* Well, boys, as long as you like this seclu- sion, I am sure I can stand it,” rej lied the lum- resume you'll not al- hingle-W eavers.” the river, with a berman. “But, then I ways follow the life of ‘““We hope not,” replie smile. ‘Has Duncan got around yet?” asked one of the shavers. ** Yes, he came in this morning. He has been to Chicago, Cincinnati and St. Louis, and, not only d of every shingle we bad on hand | but he brings an order for several thousan more,” “Ab!” exclaimed the river, his little black eyes sparkling like beads of fire, ‘‘that last | stock we made was the best. we ever put on the | market.” ‘ “They were genuine, Vandi,” replied Spen- cer, ‘‘but now we want a new style, e’ve | had lap-shingles, now give usa few thousand | joint-shingles.” As he concluded, Spencer passed Vardi a ten- dollar bank-note of the Merchants’ and Mechan- | ies’ Bank of D——n. Vandiuttered a low whis- sporting man, whose sole delight was in a fine | tle as he glanced over the bill His two comm
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nions advanced and looked over his shoulders, eir eyes burning with curiosity. ° ‘‘That’s a charmer, captain,” in a business “T think so, myself.” * What's the circulation?” “Duncan says about half a million—princi- pally in tho West.” “A big thing, a big thing,” mused Vandi; **but then I call the engraving on the Lill Luta second-rate job. Just look, for instance, at tho ungraceful position of that goddess; and the clumsy arrangement of that vignette. Poob! it’s miserable for half a million circulation. Tl swear I believe it is counterfeit.” His companions smiled. ** Duncan says if is genuine,” said the captain. “Ho knows, he knows!” cxclaimcd Vandi; “but as to the texturo of this paper—” 2 Newr mind tliat; Duncan will attend to “Very well,” said Vandi, with a sigh, ¢lanc- oe ® over tho pile of blocks teforo them; “I think we can get this timber worked up in about two weeks.” “Very well,” said Spencer, shouldering his gun; “I'll call again in a few days. Lemin quite a hurry row.” So saying, the captain Icft tho “ Shingle- Weavers’” camp, leaving tho ten-dollar bill in Vandi’s hands, and a strango suspicion resting over the object of his visit and the hidden meaning of tueir conversation. CHAPTER VII. IDA ZAND. Carrary Srencer did not retrace his steps homeward aiter leaving tho Shingle-Weavers’ camp, but struck across tho hills toward tho north, An hovr’s walk brcught him to a great marsh over a mile square. lt wes known there- abouts as the Biue Marsh; and was covered with cranberry and whortleberry-Lushes. From thero alone went many Lushcls cf thcso berries of commerce. In tke center of the marsh was a littlo wooded knoll rising several feet abovo tho surfaco of the currounding lowlands, and upon tho summit of this stood a little vine-emLowered cabin. It was the home of ono Daniel Berry, who, fora trifle, had purchased the marsh and for years devoted bis sole attention to its unfailing crops of berries. O'd Cranberry; cs ho was moro es known, did not livo tkere alono in his ated home. His widowed Caughter and hr child, a lovely girl of seventeen, residcd with him, and aided him in his labors in the marsh. But the three lived alro:t a secluded life, for it was very scldom that any cno ever crossed their threshola. At certain times in the year teams cume up from South Haven after berries vwkich the cld man \.ou!ld havo ready for mar- ket, but none cf the purchasers ever entered his Louse, In fact, thcy were never invited ever to the caLin, but remained in camp 0:1 the edzo of the marsh until they had receivid their loads. daughter was never seen away from the cabin, but his grand-daughter, tho pretty, rosy- cheeked, bright-eyed Ica Zane, was most al- ways at his side; and few sirangers cver saw her but what they wero ready, the next min- ute, to worship at thosLrino cf her woncrous uty. pea Ida Zane’s admirers was Captain Randolph Spencer. He loved ler—yea, he adored her from the moment they first met. At least, he always told ler so, and she never had reason to believe otherwiso. On the other hand, the captain felt satisfied that bis love was reciprocated, although she hud always c: quet- tishly evaded a confession in words. He had met her often, though under circumstances that would never permit of but few micutes’ conver- sation in private; for her grandfather was al- ways at ber side, or in sight, when away from the cabin. He had never teen to the home of Daniel Berry, and although he had often court- ed an iuvitation, it never came, either from the lips of the old man or Ida, Hedid not attribute this, however, to a want of courtesy or civility, for they had always treated him kindly; but thought that, perhsps, it was owing to the ex- treme poverty of their homo and their sensitive natures. He knew by the old mav’s appear- aic2, and Ida’s also, that they had onco seen better days. But the captain had made up his mind to visit the cabin without an invitation; and it was with this intention that he bad Jeft home, and hat we now find him on the edge of the Blue " \ One reason, perhaps, why many had never been to the Berry caiin, was owing to the fact that it could only Le reached in the summer by water. The knoll upon which it stood was sur- rounded on three sides by a deep swamp, and on the fourth b, a wide, i“: creek—tributary to the Mivdle Block river. ‘Ibis stream cut the marsh in two. During the winter it, as well as the swamp, was frozen over; and it was then that the gathered. The captain knew where a canoe was tied np on tue bank of the creek scme distance below the cabin, and securin barked for the home f rries growing in the latter were this, he at once em- the berry-pickers, de- Sia oe a LL LLLLLLLLLBDBDLDRDL ALLL LLL LLL LL Lt s The Giant Rifleman been hanging over his peaco cf mind cud heart; though he expericnced somo doubt es to the manner of his reception. He left his gun and dogs ashore, knowing full well that the trained animals would remain there until he returned. Being unskilled in the use of the paddle, the captain made slow progress up the sluggish stream; and he had scarcely made halt the dis- tance when he espied a canoe with a single oc- cupant coming down the stream. <A glance told him that the cecupant was Ida Zano, she whom he sought. A look, half disappointment and half delight, swept over the faca cf the captain. Ina few minutcs their canocs were alongside each other, resting quietly upon the Losom of tho water. “Why, Mr. Spencer!” cxclaimed tho viva- cious littic lda, hcr Llue eyes b aming with joy, and her ;retty face all radiant with sn ies of innocence and childish pleasure; ‘‘ where cre you going?” “ My little sprite, I was on my way to see you,” Spencer replied, and leaning fcrward and taking her hand in his, pressed it to his lips. She did not resent this liberty. "Young and un- man was trying to throw an influence arou: | her soul that she could not resist. “T saw you coming,” cho said, “and thinking it was grandpapa, I started to mcet him.” “Then you are disappointed :” Oh, no, sir; I am very glad to mect you, Mr. Spencer, and know that you are safe, Grandpa tejls me that that terrible creature called tho Unknown Marksman h.s killed two or three of your men latcly.” “Then you do caro for me, Ida?’ he said. ** Why, to ke suro; L liko al my friends,” said tho kind-hearted little creature. “*Can you not say you love mo, Ida—love mo as I edore you?” “What 1s love, Mr. Sperecr?” che replied, in a tono that seemed to Spencer a ccquettish evasion; ‘‘is is nct tho regards we Lave for ail our fr.ends?” No, it is an affection of the heart—an cffec- tion that binds two souls together with a fond devotion that only death can sever. Love cif- fers with friendship, Ida, as the heat of a fur- nace differs with the warmth of the sun. You have won my heart; Iam miserable out of your sight; and Ihave sought this interview to ask youtoto my wife. Ob, I pray you will not say To. ty, by, you curprise me, Mr. Spencer,” the maiden replied. “I never supposed you woud want to marry me—a silly girl. In fact, I never thought about marrying auybody.” “Did you never think that your grandfather and ycur mother are growing old, and tiat some day you will necd a home of your own?’ “Why, { ulways think that the older they grow t.ecloser I cught to stay by them,” sho answered, in a tone that to the captain seemed slightly tingea with sarcasm. Be my wife, lda,”’ ke finally said, bursting for:h in a prssionate fervor, *‘ and your mother and grandiather shall never want. I am rich Ida, and you shall live like a lacy, and nob while away your sweet young lifo in the Blue Marsh picking berries.” ‘*] have been very happy here, I am sure, I like to pick berrics,” sLesaid, with provoking indifference, Pi as my wife, Ida, you shall still be hap- er. **Do you think I can be happier then I cm?” she asled, a little thoughtfully. “There is no limit to joy, Ida, and I assure you of a life of perpetual kappincss if ycu will consent to be my wife.” “Mr. Spencer,” she arswered glancing down the stream, “I cannct answer you now, for there comes grandfather. I will take time to think the matter cver.” Spencer’s brow darkened with a look of dis- appointment, and turniug his eyes toward the approaching Lcat, thought to himself: “Perdition take him! 1 wish be was in the bottom of Lake Michigan.” Ida might bave read the man’s thoughts in his face had she not sent ker little bark cance gliding away to meet her old friend. But ina few minutes she returned, ard the three boats stopped side and side, pencer greeted the old man kindly, though in Lis beart be cursed him. “I knew you were ubout, captain,” said the berry-picker, ‘for I saw your guu and dogs down the creek.” “Yes; I went cut bunting, and happening down this way, I concluded to run up to your cabia and engage a few bushels of whortleber- ries for the use of the camp; but on the way I met Ida, and—” “T reckon we can furnish you the berries, captain, in a day or so, They’re just getting ripe and luscious now; but, captain, have you heard anything of that Unknown Marksman lately?” since ae killed the Indian, Smoky; but, then, that was a good riddance. He was a mean wreteb, and becauso I reprimanded him sophisticated as sho was, she knew not that t's | | the | looking ——————— ree termined to end the suspense that had ‘so long | for cutting a log six inches short, to evado a knot, he quit working, and left. The next I heard of him be was dead. But that unknown enemy has killed some good, innocent men be longing to my force.” ‘The awful wretch,” said the old man; “you crt to rise up in your might and main, captain, and with your dogs and men hunt him down. If I wasn’t so shaky with the weight of years, I'd be glad to join sich a party. Pretty pass, indeed, where innocent men can’t go out to work without being killed. I have been count- ing on a big sale this fall and winter, for the cranberry crop was Lever more promising; but if that dasted marksman keeps on killing peo- ple, no buyers will ever venture on such danger- ous ground,” Captain Spencer saw that he would have no further opportunity of wre | to Ida, for old Cranberry seemed determined to monopolize the whole time; and finally, breaking in upon a pause in the old man’s conversation he said: “Well, as it is getting late, I shall have to be going toward the camp. I hope 1 may see you soon a and he fixed his eyes upon faa who acknowledged his words with a sn ile ard a bow, then put out her hand and kindly Lid him good-by. The next moment the old man and his aaj grandchild were moving slowly home- ward. When out of thecaptain’s hearing, Ida asked: “Grandpa, what do you think of Captain Spencer?” ‘**Oh, I think he’s a very nice sort of a chap Ww replied the old man; ‘‘and now we're goin to be busy a day or two gathering him those ber- ries. ‘Don’t you think he asked me to marry him, grandpa?” continued Ida. ‘Great salvation!” exclaimed the old fellow, esif astonished; ‘‘ what does Captain Spencer want to marry a little, saucy whiffet hke you for? Bah! he was joking you—teasing ycu, ehild.” “No, he was in real, downright earnest, grandpa.” ‘**Ha! ha! ha!” chuckled the old berry-picker. ‘Captain Spencer in love with my Ida! Well, he’d make you a gcod husband, daughter, I ex- pect; but, great Moses! he’s old enough to be ycur father. He must be well on toward forty, while you are buteeventeen. But what did you tel] him?” “That I’d think the matter ovcr till I saw Lim again.” **Tell Lim no, child—tell him no. You are too young to marry; besides, we can’t spare vou | from our home, Ab! there is your mother | coming down to the landing to meet us. Wave | your hat to her, the poor, good soul she is.” Ida did as requested, and in a few moments more they landed at the feet of a sad, pale-faced woman of some forty years. ‘“Were you uneasy, mother?” the maiden asked, as she sprung irom her boat upon the green bank. * Yes, child,” she answered, “ you know I am always uneasy when you and grandfather are away: and since that Unknown Marksman has been around, I caunot rest until I see you com- ing, for I know he is some crazy man shootin down people wherever he finds them. Bu come, supper is waiting you.” The three turned and walked slowly up the green hillside to the cabin. Just as they reached the door the report of a rifle echoed in quavering intonations across the marsh, and the deep baying of hounds came a down the air from the wooded hills be- you CHAPTER VIII. WHAT CAPTAIN SPENCER FOUND, CAPTAIN SPENCER paddled tack down the creek to where he tad left his gun and dogs, with a look of disappointment upon his face. The man’s true inward nature was now crop- ping cut. The smiles that had hitherto beamed upon his handsome face disappeared | ehind Gark and sullen frowns that would bave filled the heart of Ida Zane with fear and terror. That youthful air which he } ad so naturally as- sumed, now vanished, and the cold, hard lines of dissipation and anger appeared on the mobile features. He busied himself with the paddle, and thought of bis future course until he reached oint where he had left his dogs and gun. L: nding, ke teacked bis cance, then, taking u his rifle, set off thrcugh the weods toward his ranch, following along a well-beaten path or Ceer-trai!. He now began to cast about him for game for the first time since he bad left heme. He had reached the wooded bill ever- the Blue Marsh, when he suddenly caught sight of an animal moving across the brow of the ridge among tle trees. A second glance told him that it was a deer: and the next moment his rifle was at his shoulder. As the report rung down through the forest aisles, the oo leay: ce tema a mr and fell to its knees: ut gat g itself, it rose to its f cemuled aves: eet and The captain raw that be had on) his game, aud at onge pub his h wen upon the
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* o? that, eh?” ee trail, With a yelp they shot away through the woods, their deep-toned baying starting the echoes far and near. Spencer followed—cutting across hills and hollows, guiding his course by the noise of his pack. For some time the chase seemed to be toward the south; but it finally turned east and aS length ch d round until it seemed to be coming right back toward the captain, who ssopped and listened. As the baying of the hounds came nearer and nearer, he saw that the Ceer was going to pass near; so cocking his rifle, 1.9 waited, determined to try a shot upon the ranning game, He had not very long to wait. The deer sud- c mals bounded past him so close that he could se the hot blood spurting from a wound in its side at every bound. @ captain raised his rifle to fire, but the hounds were so close upon it that he dare not through fear of killing one of them. Twenty rods further on the stag-hounds brought the game to a stand in a little opening, and the next moment the whole pack was upon it. Spencer burried forward and called them off, but the deer was already dead. It was a fine, sleek doe, and as he stood as gebvy it with a hunter’s admiration, he could not hel admiring it above any he had ever killed. dogs, panting around it, seemed to regard it with a half-human look: and while both the hunter and his pack stood by the dead animal, they were suddenly startled by the sound of ap- preaching feet. rning, the captain saw Davy aun, one of his own re r hunters, approach- ing with a brace of wild turkeys in his hand, and a number of squirrels hanging to his belt. “Hullo, capt’n!” exclaimed the old hunter, os he entered the opening, ‘‘ what in mystery’s name ye got thar, eh?’ “The sleekest deer you ever saw, Davy,” re- plied the Ea tome ** By gee hokey, it is that, isn’t it?” “Tt looks as though it might have come out of some lady’s parlor,” added meer, ** Well, now, it does, don’t it? and dog my cats if it didn’t, captain! Look here, will ye? Do you see that, ole hosst What do you make As he spoke, the old hunter 9. ohare lifted the point of one of the animal’s ping ears, and to the weeeee and wonder of the captain, he saw a tiny blue tassel hanging thereto. _ ‘‘ What an infernal blunder!” ener from his lips, ‘ for it is somebody’s pet deer, and has not come far, I say. It may belong to Old Cranberry, and having escaped from the island strayed Off into the woods. Or it may belon at some. eet eee camp. “At any rate, I regret having killed it.’ cf Well, dash it, capt’in, one don’t expect to meet re but wild deer in these woods— you’re not to blame. All I’ve got ag’in’ you is your makin’ such a bunglin’ = there, where your bullet struck, and— Great mon- keys! here’s something else—a blue ribbon all syained with blood, and around the animal's neck in the bargain!” “‘ Worse and worse for me,” said Spencer, re- fcetfully, “ for I know that some | cap ae heart iad fairy fingers had something to do in putting taese trinkets upon the deer. Perhaps some cuild, or perhaps some maiden, has thus tricked owt, “ fr pet. pevy, i the ribbon and han me. Iwan it as a relic of this day’s hunt.” z Davy broke the ribbon, and as he drew it from about the stiffening neck of the deer, he exclaimed: “Just look thar, capt’in—there’s a jewel on the ribbon, or I’m a born moon-eye.” “A tiny gold locket, as true as the heavens are above us,” replied Spencer; ‘‘and now I re- wember Jack Day’s saying that he saw a coer with a ribbon around its neck more than two weeks ago; but all scouted the idea as being absurd, and so nothing more was said about it. This must be the same deer—yes, this locket is real gold, with the initials— Well, let me see; they are nearly worn off, but I think they are ‘H.’*M.’ And,” he continued, holding the lock- et out before hita in a reflective manner, * T’)l erase I believe I have seen that locket be- ore. “ Look inside of it, captain; mebby that’ll tell ye somethin’ ’tout it,” Me sages Davy. With a nervous hand the captain pressed the epring and the locket flew cpen. There wero two portraits in it—one was of a young and beautiful woman, and the other of a man equally as handsome. Spencer held the locket 50 that the light could fall upon the portrai .or they were very small. He turned an ¢ banged th as if in doubt as to what he saw. Baun saw his face turn white as a sheet as ho gazed upon the pictures—he saw him fairly rnc and reel as if under a mental b ow, ‘What is it, capt’in?’ the old hunter asked, dimself growing uneasy at the captain’s emo- tions, Without a word, save a terrible oath. Spencer dashed the locket to the earth, then with clench- ed fists and blazing eyes turned as if to confront an imaginary foe. was tke very image of es and fury. Old Davy picked up the locket aud looked at' it seemed ‘ The Giant Rifleman, me pictures. An exclamation burst from his NC why, ca erg he said, “ this isa picture of ha yourself! the name of old Satan does it mean?” ‘Curse the locket!” hissed the enraged lum- berman. ‘‘I thought it Bema with—long es ago. By heavens! she did wear it when —when—’ a ““Well, when what, capt’in?’ interrupted avy. “None of your business,” stormed the infuri- ee man, apparently transformed into a demon of anger. \ ‘‘Beg pardon, cap’n,” said Baun; ‘didn’t mean to tread on your toes. I see this locket is a big surprise to you—a drap of gall to the sweetness of your temper. But who’s this wo- man?—yer dead wife, eh?” ‘* Again I say, Davy Baun, it is none of your infernal business, and if you breathe a word of this to a living soul, I will murder you.” “Oh, Dll keep dark as a rainy night, capt’in,” replied Baun; ‘‘ but draw and quarter me if she isn’t a real beauty. It’s a pity she war cut off in her prime—that the cruel waters of fate quenched out the—” ‘* Man!” stormed Spencer, “‘ what do you mean by this talk? Speak out, or I'll blow your head re) “Go easy, capt’in; don’t go off ona tangent,” replied the old bunter, in a cool, calm tone that told he was not afraid of the blustering man. ‘*] just mean that it was a pity sich a beautiful woman was dead. I never see’d but one purtier critter than she, and that’s Old Cranberry’s gal. I tell ye, capt’in, that Ida Cranberry is a fe beauty. But all jokes aside: shall’ I dress this deer while you go up to the ranch and send a pack-mule down?” 3 “No; let it be for the vultures,” ae) Spen- cer; “itis accursed—let us leave it at once,” and a8 yee g his rifle, Spencer called his dogs and sta rapidly away as if fleeing from the vengeance of a pursuing Nemesis. Davy Baun slipped the locket into his pocket, took up his gun and turkeys, and sauntered lei- surely homeward, wondering to himself what terrible secret linked the captain's past life with the tiny locket. CHAPTER IX. BATTLING WITH THE WAVES. WE left Old Wolverine, the Bee-hunters and the unknown victim of Nattie’s rifle struggling in the wild waves at the foot of Spirit Rapids. Every man was compelled to act for himself when he found that life depended upon the most determined efforts. Frank Ballard did not release the arm that he had seized at the same instant the boat upset— the arm of the struggling being that Nattie’s shot hac brought Dy With that instinct, born of sudden danger, he clung to the arm, scarcely aware of what he wasdoing; but when / he arose to the surface after his plunge into the | water, he collected his thoughts and throwing himself upon his back, endeavored to support the struggling form at his side. : bY Look out! look out!” yelled Old Wolverine as he rose to the surface; ‘‘no bottom here, an water wetter’n Five Point julip. Wooh! how you makin’ it, boys?” “I’m coming,” answered Ed Mathews; ‘‘where are you, Nattie and Frank?” There was no response. Frank heard the question; but he was too busy to answer, for he had found that the form he supported was that of a woman still possessed of life. Old Wolverine wasan excellent swimmer, and he at once struck out for land. He landed some forty rods below the rapids, the current having - ed him down before he could reach the ore. “* Here, boys, he velled, “‘ port te! helms and ut into the bay over here, here are you, vs? Are you coming?” One by one his goge swam ashore, and finally Ed Mathews landed a few paces below. The moment the latter was out of the water he in- uired after his friends, for he had seen none of them since the boat upset. ‘All in but Nattie and Frank,” said the wolf- hunter; then he shouted at the top of his lungs tothe others. But there was no response save ~ yh meng i his da voice; and now, for e@ ime, o olverine about his friends. a ‘Could they both swim, Ed?” he asked. “Yes; either one of them is a better swimmer than I. Nattie is the best of the three.” “Then I am afeared something has befallen them,” Wolverine replied, in a serious tone. In this he was nearly right, for Nattie, in falling from the boat, had struck his head upon a hidden rock and was partially stunned. Thus, half-unconscious, he was swept away down the river; and while he managed to keep his head above the water, he made no attempt toward etting ashore. With Frank Ballard it was dif- erent; clinging to the struggling form of the unknown woman, he began a desperate and heroic effort to reach the shore. He was an excellent swis mer, but with the burden of an almost lifeless cage A resting upon his arm, as though his efforts would be in vain. 22. i J ee — ee eee SS — 9 But he battled with all his strength against the current which bore him rapidly down the stream; and when, at length, the last hope of escaping with his burden had nearly died out, a ] oated near him, and he caught hold of it. th this providential support, hope and cour- age returned; and aiter a moment’s rest he shouted for help. But no answer came back. He was not aware of the length of time he had been in the water, nor of the fact that he had floated over a mile down the stream. Seeing that all depended upon hisown strength, the young bee-hunter began another struggle, and finally succeeded in reaching the northern shore and depositing his burden on the beach. Then kneeling by the prostrate form, he un- oosed the covering about the head and face, and found himself gazing down into the pale face of a beautiful woman. She was young— this he could see in the dim moonlight; but he could not distinguish the outlines of the whole, features. Her form was enveloped in a white, gossamer rubber cloak. Frank now found himself in another dilem- ma. He knew the woman was not dead, but felt satisfied that she had been wounded by Nat- tie’s rifle, and was afraid she might die for want of such assistance as he could not render. If she could only speak, he might ascertain the extant of her injuries. He bent over her and spoke. A moan escaped her lips; she moved slightly and tossed her hand feebly. Frank raised her head and pillowed it upon his breast. She threw up her band and clasped his in a frantic grasp. Its touch thrilled the young bee-hunter to the heart. It seemed pos- of a mesmeric power. “Lady,” he at length said, in hopes she was regaining consciousness, “rest perfectly quiet; you are out of danger.” “Whose voice do I hear?—where am I?” she asked, half-delirious, and with a nervous start as though awakening from a dream. Frank, too, started, and gazing down into her face, replied: ane are on the river bank below the Rap- “Below the Rapids?’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, do not let them find me—they will murder me! Frank comforted her with the assurance of safety ; and told her that his companion had not fired upon her with murderous intent; but to — a curiosity as to the Spirits of the Rap- s. While thus consoling her fears, the tread of feet suddenly arrested his attention, and turn- ing his head he saw a tall Indian chief standing at his side with folded arms. At the same time he caught the glimmer of a camp-fire out in the woods to the right. A shudder thrilled Frank’s form as he remem- bered the treachery of an Indian that day, and he at once reached for his pistol. But to his surprise he found it was gone. He had lost it in the river. Laying the head of the helpless wo- man on the ground, he rose to his feet, and turn- ing to the Indian demanded: ‘Who are you that comes here?” “* Pokahgan, the chief of the Pottawatomies,” was the prompt answer given in a kind tone. “ls my white brother in trouble?” He spoke English fluently, and the kindly tone in which he addressed Frank dismissed all fears from the latter’s mind. “Tam glad to meet you, Pokahgan, for I am in trouble,” he answered; ‘‘my lady companion is wounded.” “The camp of Pokahgan is yonder,” the chief ge) gato, toward the glimmering light off in the woods; ‘I am the friend of the whites, and they are welcome there. They shall find comfort by my camp-fire, strength in the food of the red-man and cheer in the words of Pokahgan and his daughter. I will call my young men that they may carry the pale-face woman to our camp,’ He uttered a low, plaintive whistle that im- ~~ brought a dozen warriors down to the ver. The woman was then placed upon a blanket and gently carried to camp, Fr and the chief following behind in silence. The warriors deposited their burden in the tent of the Princess Summer-Rose, Pokahgan’s daughter. Rose, as the dusky maiden was more familiarly called, did allin her power to make the woman comfortable. osing her tent, she removed the stranger's water-soaked clothing, and replaced them with dry ones from her own scanty wardrobe. eanwhile, Frank Bullard waited impatiently by the roaring camp-fire for Rose's decision as to the woman’s wounds; and when she finally came out and informed him that the woman was not wounded at all, he was most happily surprised; but, at the same time, it only in- creased the mystery surrounding the Spirit Rapids and Castle Island. | a pests Sas maiden with a pleasant face, and spar ing eyes, black as midnight, seemed greatly pleased over her ace protege, and spent all her time by the woman’s side, administering to her wants and comfort. Frank entered into eonversation with Pokah-
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Se gon, The chicf wes very frieidly And ¢oth- muni¢ative. He answered ali of Frank’s ques- tions satisfactorily; he denied the truth of the reported Indian outbreak, but accounted for the rumor on the ground of his. having threatened a certain party of lumbermen, in case they re- peated certain acts of cruelty to his braves, whom the whites occasionally caught out in the woods bunting. “These woods,” the chief said, “have been the bunting-grounds of the red-men for many centuries; but they offer no insult to their white brothers; but the latter have accused us of shcot- ing down their friends. ‘This is false; it is the Unknown Marksman that slays them, not Pokahgan’s braves.” “What do you think about the Unknown Marksman, Pokahgan?” Frank asked. “Go ask the wind that mutters to the trees, and the shadows that lurk in the woods. They may tell; but Pokahgan cannot.” Between listening to the old chief, watching the movements of the little princess, and drying his clothes, Frank was kept engaged. He was surprised at his hospitable reception, and coald not help admiring the sociability of Mice 7s and the wild beauty of bis dusky child. is braves were also very kind and solicitous of their white guest’s comfort. The chief asked no questions. If he had any desire or curiosity to know under what circum- stances Frank and the woman had happened to be cast upon the shore, Le kept it concealed in mute silence. Thus an hour had passed, when the, princess came to the young bec-hunter and said: ‘““My white sister desires to see you in the wikeup.” rank arose, adjusted his clothing, which; by this time. was nearly dry, and advanced to the door of the tent. The apartment was lighted with a fat-lamp, and as le entered he saw tho woman seated upon a pile of furs, with ber head bowed upon her hand. When he spoke, sho raised her faco—a pale, sad and beautiful face wreathed in a wealth of golden hair, that fell in rippling masses down over her shoulders and back. At sight of ber, 'yvank started back with surprise and amazemen’ written upon every lineament of his face. ““My God!” he exclaimed. “Frank! Frank Ballard!” the woman cricd, starting up and clasping his arm, “it is no de- lusion—it is Kdith—she whom you once knew and loved as Edith Morse!” “No, it cannot be,” cried Frank;-‘ she is dead —she was drowned —murdered by thé ficnd whom she called husband.” “You think so, Frank,” the woman answered with a bitter smile; “so docs the world; but i still live.” **Buith, T have mourned you as dead these many years, and were it not for your face, that same sweet voice, and those same meek and loving eyes, | would believe you were an in- stor. Why hav’n’t I known that you were iving before now?’ “Tdid not want you to know it, Frank, T was ashamed ever to meet you again; and when Lrecognized your voice speaking, to Pokah; I was sorry you rescued me from the river, But, Frank, in all the years that we have been as dead to each: other, I havo not forgotten “God bless you, my own darling. Thisseems like a dream to me. Little did 1 think that it was she whom I once loved that I was strug- ling with in the river. For years have be ryivg to erase the past from my memory, for thoughts of it has brought nothing but pet to my heart. I came into these woods in the hope that the wild adventures of the wood- mun and bee-hunter’s life would wear out my sorrow. Perhaps God directed mo here, Edith.” see “Perhaps,” said Edith, a tremor in her voice, and that old-time love in her eyes; “but then,” she continued, as if start- ing from a dream, her voice trembling with emotions of despair, ‘it can only reopen theold wound,” “Nay, nay, Edith; can you. hot be to me what you once were?” Frank asked, in passion- ate fervor. “Wo, Frank, never,” sho said, half choking. “Why not?’ responded Ballard; ‘‘ you know that Henry Mount is dead —was slain by an as- sassin?—that no tie binds you to him?” “Ob, Frank, Frank!” the woman cried. ‘T cannot tell you what 1 know—not now. Go in your journey of life, Frank, and for- ef,me. 7 “T never can, now, Edith, for I know you have teen driven into a life of misery—first with Mount, and then into this exile life. I must know that you are safe, and have a friend and protector.” . “Thank you, Frank, for mse kind and gener- ous wish. I am glad to learn that you know how it came that I married Mount.” “*T know all, Edith—I know your uncle forced ou to marry against your wish. But, tell me, Ey, ) you reside BRon Castle Island?” @ glanced around, as if to make then ene cise was near, then rep eat, brown. The Giant Rifleman. ‘We took you for a spifit walking on the water, and my friend concluded to try a shot at ou Edith’s face lit up with asad smile. “T reside there with brother, whom y¥ néver know, Fiaiik; bit the way wé cfoss the rapids is a secret that none but our own part kiiows. Should you ever wish to visit the island; I will let you into the secret ” “Do so, Edith; for to tell you the truth, I have very recently conceived an admiration for this country, and shall remain here till—” “Do not cn my account,” she interrupted. “Edith, can I not think of you as Edith Morse? Can I not blot out thie past five years and stand with you by the old turnstile, and hear the melody cf your voice whispering vows of love again? Oh, Edith! do not drive me away. I know—” “But, Frank, I am not, nor never can be, the Edith of those days. I bave passed through a life since then that would make any woman a demon.” “Tt has not tarnished your soul, Edith. My own heart tells me that.” “But, Frank, there is still an impassablo bar- rier between our lives, though our hearts may be together,” she still persisted. “What is it; Edith?’ he asked, taking her hand in his and gazing down into her sorrowlul eyes. of I cannot tell you, Frankk—not now,” she re- plied. ‘1am under obligations of secrecy.” “Your husband, Henry Mount, is dead, and so I cannot imagine what it can be, unless you have married some other.” “TI have not, Frank,” she answered, ‘f and— Oh, what is that?—what awful sound?” The last words were cecasioned by a Ceep sound breaking suddenly upon the stillness of the camp. Frank ran out of the tent and fourd the In- dians all standing in the attitude of listening; while, with their eyes shaded with their hands, they were endeavoring to peer into the gloom beyond the radius of light. ot a breath of air was stirring, and the smoke from the camp-fire and Indians’ pipes omy over the camp like a purple haze. In this tke Indians’ forms. only half ciscernible, looked like a group of bronzed statues representing peed and suiprise. They secmed trausfixed to the spot. , Suddenly the deep baying cf Cogs broke w the night. It was this sound that had first roused theeamp. The Indiansscized their guns. The baying of the dogs came nearer; and pres- ently a huge bear, pursued by half a score of hounds, appeared witbin the light. It wascom- ing directly toward the camp—it would pass through it. Quick as a flash the Indiars roised their re and poured a deadly volley into the bear. With a fierce prow! of mortal agony the animai reeled, staggered on and fell within twenty feet of the camp-fire, mortally wounded, The hounds came on and sprung upon the dy- ing beast, mad with the excitement of the chase. | ihe shouts of men and the clatter of hoofs came down the valley upon the trail of the bear and hounds, mingled with the occasional twang ofahorn. — Then from the shadowsof the woods appeared a dozen mounted Luriter’s, wild with the cxcite- ment of the chase, At their head, tpon a foaming charger, rode Captain Randolph Spencer. CHAPTER X. TROUBLE IN CAMP, A stovt of joy burst from the lips of Spencer and his men when they saw that the bear had been caught, and that, too, in the heart of the Indian camp. They rode up, and, dismounting, hitebed their horses and gathered round the - d-evenitg, hy brave old_smoky-skin!” eXclaimed Spencer, advancing to Pokabgan and giving bim 4 rude, familiar slap on the shoulder; Showa y, brave warriors of the Pottawatomie and— ‘Hello! a. white man ”—to Frank Ballard —** #éod-evening, sir: all on your way toattend the foot-races at the Five Points, are you?” oe None of US aié goihg there,” answered Po- k: fn. “Oh, yoti are not?” replicd Spencer; “we're going to have a.grand o'd day of it. Free whisky; free fights, and free everything’s the protamine, smoky-ski.” Frank Ballard saw that the Inmberman and his followers were under the influetice of liquor, and he at once became fearful of some insult that would Jead to trouble. The hunters were really boisterous, and in their pretended exu- berance acted Ap theme res in whose camp they were up en guests. 3 " By sis, old Pokey!” the captain remarked after it was discovered that the Indians had slain the bear, “I’m glad you fellows floored old Bruin here, for we couldn’t hit a better lace for a bear-hunters’ frolic. Boys, two or three of slip the hide off that bear, dress u the meat, and we'll have a royal roast. An t chief of the Pockawockamies, isa choice old Burgundy, direct from the here bottle distilleries of La Sod Cornus. It hasn’t been touchéd yet, so take off the blossom.” hares shook his head and detlined the proffered bottle, though iti a courteous manner. ‘*Whot!” exclaimed Spencer, ‘tell me that you—a red skin—an Ingin, don’t drink? Pokey, that’s too transparent.’ “The fire-water of the pale-face is not good. When it goes in; stnsés go out—tmake one a big f6o],” was the chief's responsé, “ Whew—eh!” whistled the captain; “hear that, will you? Well, well; the millennium has come—not an Ingin here ’!] take a drink. Oh, Jerusalem! Jerusalem! But, stranger of the white skin, will you rot have a drink with me?” “Thank you; 1 never crink, sir,” answered Ballard. ‘Well, I'm glad of it—leaves all the mcre for me. Here, boys, is to your happiness, old Po- key’s joy, and the success of these red tec total- ers,” and turning the bottle to bis lips, Le let its contents gurgle down his threat without cnce stopping to take breath. His example was im- mediately followed Ly his men, each of whom was provided with a bottle of liquor. The prospect for a drunken carousal now be- came too certain, and Frank Ballard tried to conceive some plan by which to get Edith end the princess, Semmer-Rose, out of danger. He knew the Jndians would Le unable to restrain the lumbermen from acts of violence, for their force was, numerically, the strorgest. In a few minutes the bear had been skinned and cut up into quarters. Each of the hounds was provided with a chunk of meat; then pieces were sliced from the choicest portions of the hind-quarters and placed before the fire on long sticks to roast. Soon the air was filled with the aroma of roasting bear-meet, and it secmed to have appealed to the better nature of the crunken men through a keen appetite, for they became comparatively quiet. The princéss had hid herself in the tent when the hunters came storming into camp, but when she thought all danger was past, she ventured out again. ‘No socner, however, did Captain Spencer see her than he spiurg to her sice with en oath of surprise,and throwing bis arm abcut her waist, kissed Ler Lefore she was scaicely aware of his intention. _.* The pale-face captain is rot a gent!eman,” said Pokabgan, indignantly, as he started from his scat, his eyes burning with a fire of reseut- ment for the insult effered his daugliter. “Well, what are you going to do abcut it, Pckey?’ returned the lumberman, defiantly. “The Pottawatomies are not cowards,” the chief answered, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination. ‘Neither are we old lumbermen,” added Spencer. ‘* You should remember that you are in our camp, and that the red-man treats the white nan kindly,” responded Pokabgan. Meanwhile, the princess had darted beck into her tent almost trightened out of her wits. She found Edith trembling in every limb with terror. ‘* Ob, princess!” she cried, in a subdued tone, “‘T must flee from here—they Will see me!” At this very juncture, one of the luambermen advanced to the tent and drawing uside the flap-door looked in upon the women. **Great sheckin’!” he ¢alled out, ‘‘here’s a white gal in here, too; and she’s purtier than a picter, 1 sw’ar she be. I nevér seed anything to beat her, boys.” * Teed her out! trot her out!” yelled the captain, and his words were repeated by his men, ca ; f 20. “ Dare to touch her,” said a voice behind the intruding jomberman, ‘and you shail die!” It tvas the voice of Frank Ballard who spoke thus, for the soul of the young Lee-+unter was aroused. A terrible light blazed in his eyes, and his‘face became blanched with the dead- ly resolve that took possession of his mind. In his hand be heldan Indian hatchet snatched from the bélt of one of the rc@-mem He was ready to die in defense of the only woman he had ever loved. 1) ft Tile lumbermen, ready fora conflict in which they knew that their superior numbers would give them the advantage, immediately drew their Knives and pistols. ‘She Indiats, in whom patience and forbearance had vented to bea virtue, unloosened their Ldtchets andunskeathed their bunting-knives: ahd thus ima minute's time twenty men had arrayed themselves inan attitude of deadly hostility. aK One of the lumbermen named Kruger, a vil- Jainous-looking French Canadian, and an uner- ring pistol-sbot, drew his revolver and Jeveled it upon the heart’of Frank Ballard. .Otie move- ment of the young bee-hunter teward executing “ha threat, was to be the signal for Kruger to o. .W _ The silence. of ‘death—the calm preceding the bursting (of ‘the -\torm—settled over the tam Even the hounds, gnawing at the bones of the bear, ceased their-meal; as if imbued with the awful spirit of themoment. Theruddy aoe of the camp fire danced and shivered over tionless forms of the men. ‘Knivesin the bands of bearded lumbermen flashed and glenmed in the light. Like tigers ready to leap upon their © Mo-.
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— The Giant Rifleman. 11 prey the Indians stood, inclining slightly for- ward, their eyes fixed upon the forms of the whites as if held there by some horrible fascina- tion. Calin and erect, and with blazing eyes, Frank Ballard stood ready to brain the man _who dared to insult Edith; while, cool and de- | termined, Kruger held his revolver upon the * breast of the young bee hunter. In this position the. enemies remained several moments—moments that seemed hours so great | was the terrible suspense. “Trotter,” Captain Spencer ventured to say, in a measured tone fraught with a tremor to the man who stood under the hatchet o Ballard, ‘*go in and bring out that white wo- man. Trotter glanced around him preparatory to precipitating the conflict. The heart of every | one leaped into his throat; the fingers of every man tightened upon his weapon; the sinews in every frame became strung to their highest ten- sion. A quiver seemed to thrill each form that swayed and trembled like a great tree before it loses its balance and goes crashing and thunder- ing to earth. moment more would have precipitated the conflict, but, before even this time had elapsed, a rifle in the hands of an unseen foe—a foe in the darkness—rung out, and Kruger’s hand fell at his side, his head fell upon his breast, his knees gave way, and he sunk down like an ox in the shambles, A comrade sprung to his side and raised his head; but life was atreaey extinct; a bullet through the forehead bad killed him instantly. Captain Spencer turned deathly pale. He put up his pistol ard advancing to ger’s side bent over him and in a husky tone said: **The Unknown Marksman is abroad!” CHAPTER XI. MORE VISITORS IN POKAHGAN’S CAMP, In an instant the threatening conflict had been stayed and the lumbermen, wild with fear and horror, gathered around the fallen com- rade, whose hand, but a minute before, had been raised. to smite a fellow-being. Even Pokahgan and his warriors were diverted by the fatal shot, and superstitious fear written upon their dusky faces. Frank Ballard alone remained unmoved, for he could be but thank- ful to the providential yet mysterious agent that had saved his-life, and rescued Edith from the power of the drunken lumbermen. Captain Spencer, however, soon recovered | from his emotions of fear, and burst into a storm of furious rage. He heaped curses upon the unknown. destroyer, upo rank Ballard, and. in fact, every boy an thing that seemed iy went in thwarting villainous de- sivas aipesy. Domes ) By the eternal heavens!” he exclaimed, ‘I will hunt that destroyer down this minute. Trotter, turn Cube and Moro loose.” The man addressed did as directed, and at once uncoupled two flerce-lookiug Cuban blood- hounds and turned them loose. Then the enraged lumberman went chargin out into the night with the dogs. Here an there through the woods in a circle he beat his tent fur. way—ur; search, | or nearly an hour he kept up th it vethe i abethen t all in ‘inally he returned to camp to find that the assembly had been in- | dart hy the arrival of rami men and six dogs. ‘The new-comers were Ed Mathews and Old Wolverine. The latter Spenecr knew and rather disliked; aud the moment he saw him Mey a vague suspicion passed through his | mind. “Hullo, capt’in,” the old wo'f-hunter ex- claimed, as . pence came tearing into camp like a mad bull, “ yibae’s the matter 0’ you? Don’t chaw yer head off—keep cool, man.” “Keep codl the deuce!” retorted the captain; “can a man keep cool vert some accursed rowler is shooting down his men? Look here!” and he pointed to. the body of the French Canadian, Kiuger. ‘ Wolverine,” he continued, ‘did you, or that man with you, fire that shot? Are either of you the Unknown ) Marksman?” “Well, now, capt’in, you're axin’ a question we'd be fools to answer if it war in the 'firma- tive; but. seein’ we’re not the Onknown, I can easily tell ye so. Our pias lay in the bottom of Black river, and if ye’ll feel our clothes you'll reeive that we’re wett:r’n Five Pint julip— t upsot and spilt us out. No, capt’in, it’s not probable that we could shoot a’ man with- eg a gun. Now what’s yer excellency’s opin- on?” ' The captain appeared to accept Wolverine’s sto Nye ha yet he held som? grave doubts as te nae * relation of the old hunter and the unknown Marksman. “ Well,” lie replied, “I shall not cease hunt- ing for that, destroyer until he is dead.” * Captain,” suid rotter, “ mebby the slayer dogs 4 into the.tent with the weemin-fo'ks.” Withont a word Spencer strode to the tent, and, before be could be prevented, lifted the pet looked juside. But he found it dark and deserted. af, “The thing is empty!” he exclaimed, starting ar his dogs and cursing in impo- | yu | back; then, turning to the chief, he demanded: “*Pokahgan, where are the women?” “None of your business,” was the chief’s in- dignant reply, and he faced the captain as if to smite bim. mi drew up to strike the chief, but Old Wolverine interposed, saying: “Gently, capt’in, gently; you might strike a | torpedo.” Spencer was afraid of Wolverine, as, in fact, | was every man in the woods; besides, there | was something like a threat in the old hunter’s pve that caused him to desist from striking the chief. “Tl not, Wolverine,” he replied, ‘‘ because you request it. But never mind, chief; there’s a hereafter.” Then Spencer turned aside, and picking up a light shawl that he had seen upon the prin- cess’s head a few minutes before, stepped out into the darkness, teld the garment to the nose of one of h’s hounds, then started off in search of the fugitive woman. | But as he left the camp, the princess re- | turned alone. A minute later the bay of the dogs sounded through the night. Pokabgan now mistrusted the villain’s intention for the first time, and in a low tone he said to Wol- verine: “The white captain trails a woman as he would a deer. He is a sneaking wolf.” ‘Ts that so?” exclaimed the old wolf-hunter; “then by the Arabian Knights, I’ll trail him. Here, Baltic; come along, you old lummix, if you want a bite of villain.” ; |” “Stay, pale-face,” said the princess, laying her hand upon the old hunter’s arm; “ the on Spirit will take care of ‘my white sis- | ter “Well, I reckon as what you ort to know, | little one,” said Wolverine, turning back; ‘‘ but Til swar that man’s either crazy or drunk; | and, boys, you’d better, look arter him, or he might git the stuffin’ pounded outen him— Now, what now, Mellow Tongue? Ho! ho! as l’m a born critter, here comes old Gershom | Thee-Thou, the Quaker. Howdy, Gershom? eer yer ole picters, how does it come you're ere? “T was going up the river and saw this light and heard a great noise, and so straightway I came over to see what hee were doing, for I supposed thee were a set of very great luna- ties. This man, Gershom Bland, was a veritable Quaker of some five and thirty years of age. His face was smoothly shaven and almost con- cealed under a slouched broad-brimmed hat. Under his right arm huvg a leathern pouch bearing the letters and word, “U. 8. Mail.” Gershom Bland was well known. as the mail- carrier between the Five Points and the Indian | vilage and settlement_of Alleghan, where many whites resided. He usually traveled on foot, though, at times, when the roads were in bad condition, he would make the journey ina canoe, as his route lay along the river. He carried no arms, for his religious scruples would not permit of vio'ence to either man or beast; and so, altogether, he was known as an innocent, harmless creature. “Well, Gershom,” said O!d Wolverine, ‘I am trooly glad to see you here, for your pres- uietude with it. Things have been goin’ a little strong for men of cur proclivities. Violence has been done here to night, and one of our friends lies | dead. The Onknown Marksman has been kill- in’ roun1 here to night.” “Ah!” exclaimed Gershom, sadly, ‘‘ that abominable creature haunts the woods like a demon. Verily, the people should rise up and hunt him ss they would a buck, and make peace with him.” “Oh, go long with your kind o’ peace,” re- turned Wolverine. ‘I'd say hang , Shoot and quart r him.” “Ah, me, Wolverine, thee are very sinful; but, changing the yt hast thee seen my friend Running Deer, the Chippewa, who car- ries the mail to Barkopolis? and my friend, Senay Gray, who carries it to Camp Spen- cer ‘No; I haven’t seen ’em, Gershom,” replied Wolverine. | “They were to have met me here to-night | in Pokahgan’s camp, for we knew he was go- _ing to camp near the rapids,” continued the | Quaker. “Running-Deer was going down, and Sandy Gray up. We frequently meet on | our routes, or where they come together, just | below the Spirit Rapids. Ah! call in your _ beasts, friend Wolverine, for some one comes,” / The hunter’s dogs had dashed out at some | One approaching through the woods, but they | Were promptly called back and quieted by | their master. The next moment “Sandy” | Gray, one of the two mail-carriers inquired af- | ter by the Quaker, made his appearance— swinging along at an easy, careless gait. | He was a m n somewhere along in thirty years; one could not judge exactly on account of the great shock of sandy sis 3 and whiskers that almost covered his face, He was dress |in buck skin breeches and moceasins, but the | ence brings a sort of peace and rest of his suit was after a mere civilized siyly He was armed with adouble-barreled rifle—a heavy smooth-bore with a stock that proclaimed its ancient origin. In addition to his’ rifle and bullet-pouch he also carried a mail-Lag similar to that of Gershom’s. The lumbermen all hailed the appearance of “Sandy ” Gray, as he was generally known, with ashout; for to them he was well known, having, for the past year, made weekly trips to Camp Spencer with the mail! for its citizens, ee Yo, Sandy, ole fellow,” exclaimed one, “glad to meet you—got a letter for me?” “Can’t tell you, Bluford; the bag’s locked and the keys are at the camp,” responded Sandy, leaning his gun against a tree, and seating lim- self before the fire with that indifferent case of one accustomed to camp life. “ Rip the bag open and let’s sce what’s in it,” sugi ested one, with a drunken ejaculation, Not much, unless yourip me first, for I’ve sworn to cherish and protect the mail until death did ws Party so help me John Rodgers,” Sandy replied. FE Well, where in the plane cid you get this gun?” asked another, taking up Sandy’s rifle, “Traded Running Deer outen it as we went down last week,” he answered, as he thrusta chew of tobacco into his mouth, “ Well, it’s a huge old affair, Sandy—smooth- bore—throwing over an ounce ball/, I should judge. Why didn’t you get a howitzer and be done with it?’ “T tell ye, boys, she’s a ripper,” replied Sandy, producing one of the bullets for ins} ec- tion; *‘ you can jist spat daylight right through a bear with it every pull; and a catamount— why, blest if you can find hide nor hair of a catty hit with one o’’em. It’s heavy, that’ troo, but then that plaguey, old, Nig eS Kaintucky that I had, gotso ricketty in the j‘ints that she’d hardly hold together, and so I traded her to Running Deer. She'd been jist the thing for Gershom; there. Lut say, Gersh, 1 kind a-look for Running Deer in to-night yet, for all he’s had time to ’a’ been here. Whar’s Cap. Spencer, boys?” “Out artera coon,” said one of the Iumber- men. : Following clcse upon the heels of his dops Randolph Spene-r was led. to the rive:’s bank. Here the trail seemed to have ended, for bi hounds, looking out over the river, bay fiercely. “Ha, she has crossed the river,” the villain said to himself, ‘‘ but here is a canoe, and 1 will follow.” He leaped into the light craft, called in bis dogs after him, and at once pulled rapidly for the opposite shore. He had scarcely left the beach when a lithe, shadowy figure glided frem the bushes behind hin., and, crouching low watched him across the river—then disappeared in the dark woods. sa ate Spencer soon Janded on the opposite shore, and the moment his hounds were upon the hank a deep baying announced that they had found the trail on the other side. Like a deer, the half-inebriated Iumberman bounded away up the river after his dc ee He followed them until the roar of Spirit Rapids burst like thunder upon his ear—almost drown- ing the voice of his dogs; but still he lanced on through moonlight and shadows, woods av hicket. On toward the rapids he followed hi bounds until, at length, the sweeping tide, with its vail of overhanging mist, was before hitb. Here dogs and master cume to a alt. : Once more the former approached the water's edge and bayed the opposite sLore. § encer looked out across the foot of the rapids and saw the shadowy forin of a woma bag) ree in the mist of the island shore. ‘Flames of purgatory!” hissed the man, as, he saw his game escaping, and that too by a way that was clothed in mystery to him. ‘“ What docs that mean? The devil is helping that wo- man, whoever she may be. But we cau go no further, that’s certain,” He called his dogs and turned back down the ver. “ By the living furies!” he soliloquized. “I will know who that woman is—I will probe the mystery of that island—yea! by the gos of Olympus, I will find that Unknown Marks- man or die. I’m beginning to get my eyes open now, fool that I have been. I will go to camp and murder every Indian aii vagabond there for thwarting my plans. © wouldn’t begrudge a dozen such men as Kru ¢ now, if I had only seen the face of that .wo- man. Curses upon the whole kit! Ill make them sweat.” By the time he had reached the canoe Spen- cer had werked himself up into a perfect paroxysm of rage and vengeance. He hastily recrossed the river and went oe She into camp, his lips reeking with threats and pro- anity. 1 He was taken, somewhat, by surprise, how- ever, when he div -vered that there had been three more person. 2dded to tho party at camp since he had left. cory —— ri SS ct Two. of these new-comers, Sandy Gray.and ! Gershom Bland, we have already notited, The third was a Chippewa Indian, named Run-
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12 ning Deer, and whom the other two had beeu | cting. This Indian was a lithe, supple fellow, with features of Anglo-Saxon cast, and a remarkably intelligent expression. He was straight as an arrow and possessed an eye sharp and keen as a hawk’s, and a movement as graceful and silent as a cat’s. He was an ex- ception to the general class of his tribe in having acquired some education of his white friends. He could read and write, and seemed as well informed upon the general topics of the day as the averdge white man of that day and country. He was also a mail-carrier, and the boon companion of Gershom Bland and Sandy Gray. In addition to the leather mail- te he possessed, he carried a rifle, whose ong barrel and stock of equal length denoted age. Captain Spencer hesitated to precipitate trouble when he discovered this acquisition to the Indians’ forces. He knew they would act with the red-skins in case of a difficulty; and if so, the odds were now against him; and so he concluded to keep quiet. He addressed the carriers with an apparent indifference, but be- trayed his inward surprise and suspicions by walking to where their guns were leaning against the tree and taking them up, one ata time, and examining the bore with a critical eye. Thoughts of the Unknown Marksman were in his mind when he did so, and had he not been so flustrated by anger and surprise, he would never have betrayed his thougkts so openly as to take up the guns and examine them. To his joy, or disappointment, however, The Giant Rifleman. he found the bore of both rifles large enough to | carry an ounce ball; and he was rifleman enough to know that a large bore could not throw a small bullet with anything like the force and accuracy the copper bullets of the Unknown Marksman were thrown. “Sandy,” he said, turning aside, as if to con- ceal his thoughts betrayed by his acts, *‘ hav’n’t you got a letter for me?” “Don’t know, Cap.; I’m only carrier—not | cesenomunmadall replied Sandy, in his easy, famil- way. The around to gigtain turned, and walkin own before where his men were grouped, sat the fire. Old Wolverine, seated upon the ground, and leaning against a tree, whistled ‘‘Over the hills and far away,” softly to himself; while Baltic lay with his head upon his master’s lap t asleep. The death of their friend Kruger cast a deep loom over the spirits of the Jumbermen—not Soantise they thought so much of Kruger asa man and companion, but they knew they were exposed to the dangers of the Unknown Marks- man also; and after some wrangling ee | themselves, they took the body of their frien and turned their footsteps toward Camp Spen- | cer. A smile wreathed Old Wolverine’s lips as the last of the party disappeared from view. He rubbed his himself, then resumed his position of ease and low, flute-like whistling. Pokahgan and his men now seemed greatly relieved, and at once entered into conversation with their welcomed guests. The princess, her retty brown face radiant with inward joy, ked with Frank Ballard and Ed Mathews— using language that not only surprised them, but won their admiration and esteem. Presently Running Deer, Sandy Gray and Gershom Bland, the mail-carriers, expressed their intention of resuming their different courses; and when about ready to start, Run- ning Deer glanced toward Sandy’s double-bar- reled rifle and muttered: “You cheated me, Sandy Gray.” “Me cheated you?” exclaimed Gray, in open- mouthed wonder; ‘* how? when? where?” “When we traded rifles. You misrepre- sented your gun.” “Oh, indeed-ah?” returned Sandy, half- contemptuously; ‘‘ well, sir, I’m glad you men- tioned the fact, for I rather hated todoit. The truth of it is, however, I consider. myself cheated, and if you want to rue back, why, back she goes. That ole double-barreled rifle is a nuisance to any man. than I want to tote up and down this river, for all the shots I get. I haven’t had the chance of a double shot yi'; so you can jist take yer old plug-ugly back and welcome, and hand me over my old Kaintucky belle. She’s ood enough fur me, even if her breechin’ are | Busted.” Without another word the two men ed back the guns tha: were so (listasteful to them. One seemed as anxious as the other to have his own piece back, and as soon as the exchange had been effected, the three mail-carriers took their departure. s “That's a trio o’ gaudy United States of- ficials,” remarked Old Wolverine to Frank and Ed, as the three men moved away; “I should think Uncle Sam would be proud o’ them.” ‘*How long have they been carrying the mail?’ asked Frank Ballard. “A year or more, I believe, since they took the contract; and half the time they’ve never had a letter or paper to pack—a dead expense ands with glee, lavghed softly to | It’s a heavier load | to the country, you see. It’d be a good thing if the Unknown Marksman would abolish them fellers.” “That Unknown Marksman is a mysterious creature,” said Ed, fixing a close look upon the wolf-hunter. ‘* Well, you have never give us your opinion | of him, Wolverine,” Ed remarked. “ve had so many opinions ’bout the critter | that l’ve entirely run out. Nearly every man in the country has been arrested on ’spicion o’ bein’ the demon; but not a man o’ ’em was ever found to have a gun throwin’ as little a ball as | the Onknown’s, or to have a copper bullet "bout | his pants. Ob, it’s a mystery! Knights it is. But if everybody could be found; but then every man seems to be so busy that he never thinks of the demon till he spats a comrade over, and even then it’s forgotten afore the dead is under the sod.” “T hope if our young friend, Nathan, escapes the river’s embrace, he may escape that demon | I am inclined to think that he was swept | ' arms to guard the rest while they worked, also. away down the river, and in all probabilit met our missing friend and guide, Goliah | Strong, when he got ashore.” “Tt was oes what become of that boy, I swear,” said Wolverine, ‘‘as well as your quid. But it’s my candid opinion that he’ war wned, boys, else we'd ’a’ hearn somethin’ o’ him. If he’d escaped, he’d surely come back and looked for his friends, jist as we looked for him. It’s too bad, I declar’, for that boy war a noble youngster—braver than a lion, and gal- y the ’Rabian | ’d turn out and | make a big hunt for the critter, I think he | vast quantity of logs for his company; and baving concluded his business, had started home that morning. As bis route lay past the Points, he and the captain were keeping each other a ag that far. “ you have a big time at the Points to- day, captain?” the agent remarked, after a brief | Sle nce. “Yes,” replied the captain, ‘“‘for the wan‘ of something better we have foot-racing thero to-day, Olympian games, you see, Mr, Earl.” “Certainly,” replied Mr. Earl, with a smile; ‘but I suppose you fellows have got to have some sport along with your work; they say all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” “That’s it, exactly; we get tired of this eternal logging, and would go stark mad if we couldn’t have some diversion. It is real downright music to hear some other sounds than the ring of axes, the rebounding roar of falling trees, and the curses and yells of ox- drivers. Still J like logging. I’ve been years at the business, and it’s got to be second nature to me. There’s always some excitement to keep a man’s blood circulating lively. Once I pulled through an Indian outbreak, and that, too, when I had to keep half my men under But I filled my contract, while the Mariposs gang were driven out, and the Bullrush gang i— swept from existence by the enemy throw ing their floodgates open upon them one night when they were fishing below the dam,” and Cae Spencer glanced uneasily around him as he spoke, as though he feared that the in- human monsters that had committed the Bull. rush tragedy lurked near. ‘** How long has it been since those Bullrush lant as a knight of old—hullo, thar! rip—bang | a were destroyed?” asked Earl. she goes!” bout three years, I believe,” answered The last words were occasioned by the crash | Spencer. of a rifle through the night up the river; and ‘“‘T heard about the affair at the time,” said the next moment the clatter of horses’ hoofs Mr. Earl, ‘though I never heard whether the were heard approaching. Then a horse dashed | villains that opened the dam upon them had out of the darkness—swept down past the | been apprehended or not.” camp, wild with terror. It was riderless, but upon the saddle and the blanket upon its back there were splashes of blood. CHAPTER XII. EXCITEMENT AT THE FIVE POINTS. THE Five Points of Michigan had obtained a local reputation as notorious as the Five Points of New York. There was, however, a vast difference in the two. While the latter was located in the midst of a populous city, the for- mer was situated in the deep wooded valley of the Black River, and derived its name from the five different roacs converging there from all directions. The Five Points of the Black river was a great resort for the rude characters that formed “‘T beiieve not.” “Well, it was a sad affair.” “Oh, yes; but such things will happen ina country like this where Jaw and order are not | known. At this time the general mind is agi- tated by a new excitement. “Indeed?” exclaimed the mill-agent; “may I inquire what it is?” ** It is called the Unknown Marksman, and is shrouded by a complete mystery.” “One of those mysteries we read of in rt remarked the agent, with a pleasant smile. ‘You know, my dear Earl, that it is a trite | old saying that truth is stranger than fiction. a large per cent. of the different settlements, | lumbering districts, and bark-peelers’ and shin- gle-weavers’ camps. The chief attraction of the place was a tavern known by the name of the Free Pitch Inn, to which was attached a grocery and post-ottice. Liquors of the most effective kind were dealt. out at the bar of the Free Pitch; and rent every Saturday and Sunday, for the Sabbat was not very Closely observed in the Michigan pineries, crowds of lumbermen went down to the Points to spend the week’s wages, and _hob- nob glasses with a dirty Pottawatomie, a blank- | eted Chippewa, and perhaps, a sedate Quaker | would lay aside his religious scruples, for the time being, and take a friendly bumper with the burly log-rollers. Free fights, in which both parties generally had fair play, horse-racing and gambling were the accompanying amusements that conspired to render the Points, in the nomenclature of the country, ‘‘a whole-souled place.” The proprietor of the Free Pitch Inn was an enterprising genius, who had received his edu- cation on the Mississippi river as a raftsman; and what he did not know of all pertaining to this class of men could not be taught him by his asseciates, Therefore, Phil Strahl knew exactly how to cater to his customers’ wants and desires, and at the same time encourage the plethoric condition of his pocket-book. He taxed his fertile brain to its utmost to plan entertainments for those who looked to the Points for whisky and amusements, Shooting- matches and horse-racing had become some- what monotonous, and at length the idea of a foot-race occurred to him asa novelty; and so he set the time for the race, and offered a pre- mium of a silver watch to the first best, and a revolver to the second. Of course these were fine premiums, all considered,,and there was scarcely a man under forty in all the country but what was under practice in anticipation of carrying off the prize; and when the day for the race arrived, all set out for tbe Points in fine condition and high spirits, Two men ridrng from the lumber district east | of the Points were discussing the subject of Phil | Strahl’s entertainment. " One of these men was Captain Randolph Spencer; the other was a gentleman, for such his appearance indicated, from South Haven, He was agent for the great saw-mills there, and had been up to Camp Spenver to engago a ” . r | dilate, his form assume a Fiction may bave a parallel case with the Un- known Marksman; and, be that as it may, what I tell you is altogether too true. What makes the mystery more profoundly startling, the Un- known Marksman is a bloody assassin.” ‘*Then why don’t you call him the Unknown Assassin and hunt him down?’ “I was the first to call him the Unknown Marksman,” replied Spencer, “for about a year ago [ was going down the river on a raft when he fired into our tent and cut the spot out of the center of a card in my hand. e shot came from the shore; as we knew not who fired it I called bim by the name he is now known. The bullet vi in the table around which we were seated; and cutting it out we found it to be a small copper ball. That night Josh Myers, one of my men, was killed by a copper bullet shot from an unseen rifle. Since then. several persons have been killed in a mysterious way— all shot through the head with a small bullet and that bullet invariably found, when foun at all, to be copper. We have hunted days in and days out for the demon, but can find no trace of him. We have arrested every suspi- cious character within fifty miles of here, but have never found the least evidence of guilt. Even some of my men, different hunters, and three well-known mail-carriers have all under- one the most rigid search; still the whole thing es wra ina profound mystery. The Un- known Marksman seems to be an invisible being haunting our woods.” “Well, reer, ” exclaimed Mr. Earl, ‘that is strange—horri je!” and he shuddered at the thought of an unknown assassin haunting the dark and lonely woods through which he must oF, age bis way alone. owadays,” continued Spencer, “‘ we all well-armed, Gon can scarcely find a man, ted or white, saint or sinner, but what carries a re- volver or rifle.” ‘It seems to me, that if the proper steps are taken, you can rid your country of this assassin; for nothing of the ‘material world could elude you always,” “Very true, Mr. Earl; but you know not what a class of people we have in the pineries, Such an air of mystery enshrouds this assassin that it has filled nearly every man with super- stitious fear. A we way be brave and out- spoken in the sunlight; but let him step into the shadows of the woods alone where his own foot- falls sound ghostly, and you will see his eyes tion of stealth caution, and big head ia an attitude of in
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aA oi er emer meena et Seen ea are tense listening. Yes, Mr. Earl, shadowsare the lurking-place of danger—darkness the home of Death.” Mr. Earl felt the force of his companion’s as- sertion, and for awhile remained silent. They rode on and finally arrived at the Points, Mr. Earl did not stop, but pursued his home- ward ag Captain Spencer dismounted, ordered his horse stabled, and then entered the bar of the ¥ree Pitch Inn. There were none present but the innkeeper, for it was still early morn. The two at once entered into an animated con- versation which lasted some minutes, when it was interrupted by the entrance of a man car- rying a long-barreled rifle and a leather pouch. This new-comer was Sandy Gray, the mail- carrier, who was greeted by Captain Spencer with an invitation to walk up to the bar and “comfort.” Sandy having no objection to a dram, readily accepted; an stepping 4 to the | t is was | bar, drank to the captain’s hea frequently repeated, the captain always taking a double draught; so that in a short time he be- | gan to feel the effects of it. eye! another individual, wearing a meek look upon his face, entered the room and depo- sited a leather bag upon the counter of the post- office department. This man was Gershom Bland, the Quaker mail-carrier to Barkopclis. | ‘Ho, Gershom, my good man!” exclaimed the captain; ‘‘I am really glad to meet you.” ‘““Thee seems in a better humor than when thee were in Pokahgan’s camp the other night,” replied Gershom, with a bland smile. ‘Yes, I am feeling better,” returned the lum- berman, ‘‘for you know our bear-hunt termi- nated rather disastrously. I hope the next hunt [ go on will be for that infernal marksman that | killed Kruger.” ‘*Ah, me,” sighed Gershom, ‘‘I wish thee | could make peace with the Unknown Marks- | man,” ‘‘If I ever git my eyes on him I'll make peace | with him, now mind.” ‘Thee are of a sinful nature, friend Spencer.” “TI can’t help it, Gershom; but say, come up here and be comforted, won’t you?’ “Verily, captain, it is against my principle | to partake of, liquor.” “‘T know it is on general principles, Gershom: but since you are fe ling fatigued and warm, I assure you it will do you good.” “ Art thee morally certain of what thee says?” asked Gershom, glancing at the brimming lasses as if arguing a point in his mind. “*T know it, Gershom,” answered Spencer. ~ Mag seahorse mene I will taste of the un- godly stuff with thee, that I may be better ac- quainted with its nature so as to warn others.” With a sly wink at Sandy Gray, Captain Spencer passed the Quaker a glass of whisky. The latter received it with an unctuous smile, placed the glass to his lips, and with an evident groan of ress, drank the whole at a single | ulp. . “Verily, it is abominable stuff,” he said, wiping his be and ey, away; ‘ ‘it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder.’ Ay, here comes friend O Smiley, a teacher of | Mennonite faith, whose scruples are v strict. Friend Obed, I greet thee with good wishes.” “ Joy to thee, friend Gershom,” was the reply of the Mennonite teacher, as he entered the room and stood his gun on the floor, then extended bis broad palm to the Quaker. ‘Ha! ha!” laughed Spencer. ‘I notice, Obed, that you and Gershom meet here frequently to have a social time. Who says Sunday-school folks don’t like their toddy?” “We cultivate sociability,” replied Obed avoiding the captain’s eyes as though he feared them; ‘itis a religious ai fe take pride in. Peace on earth and good to men is our beacon light.” ‘But don’t you seek a little of that peace in a quiet ‘ bumper?” questioned the lumberman. “Never, never!” replied the Mennonite, dis- dainfully. ‘‘I have resided at Alleghan and upon the frontier at years, and have yet to look on wine when it is red.” ‘But you seem to lose sight of one oe seruple in your close adberence to another. Does not your faith disapprove of violence and bearing arms?” “It does, friend Spencer; but I pod a gun for self-protection, and use it then only when moral suasion fails in its good power. More- over it has been decreed be the people as ad- visable for all to go armed to protect bimself | ‘rom that stealthy foe who respects no color—no veligion—no sex, the Unknown Marksman. But { bave never had occasion to raise my gun : gainst man or beast.” “* Amen,” exclaimed Gershom, in a lugubrious tone. ‘“‘ You’re mistaken, Obed; the marksman has never killed a woman or a Quaker,” said Spen- cer, “So much to his credit,” added Obed. “Wal, boys,” chimed in Sandy Gray, “you may stick to yer faith clus as a leech; but, mind | what I tells ye, old Bandy’ll shoot whenever / be gits a chance—yes, thank ye, and I'll drink | todo. | Spencer, rushing The Giant Rifleman. The lumberman had ordered drinks for four, and invited Sandy, Gershom and Obed to par- ta e. “Verily, friend Spercer,” said Gershom, “I have already pronounced my aversion to the abominable stuff, and soI must refuse thee on principle.” ‘* Amen!” shouted Obed. “Obed,” said the captain, “ you my. you cul- tivate sociability ; now, wherein would there be any harm in you Christians taking a glass with Sandy and I? Do you wish to cut my friendship by refusing?” ‘*Not at all, friend Spencer,” replied Obed, ‘“but even if I were so predisposed, a nos akin to a violent cramp in the stomach wo prevent my drinking.” ‘‘There’s nothing in the world better for colic than just whisky,” said Spencer. ‘* No, nothing,” affirmed Phil Strahl. “Nothing, eh?’ asked Obed, in surprise; “then I will take a measure to try its medicinal roperties, for I suffer a great deal with cramps n the stomach.” “And verily, it isa wise old saw that says, ‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of “and, peradventure, I will try the virtue in the sinful stuff in counteracting the influence of the malaria along my route.” And so the four took the glasses and lifted them to their lips. The Mennonite sipped at his and grimaced as though it were liquid torture; while the Quaker closed his eyes, tipped the glass, and let the liquor run down his throat with apparent delight. As they — the glasses on the counter, Gershom sai ‘“‘ Sinful stuff—the beverage of Satan. What say thee, friend Obed?” ‘** Amen!” was the solemn response. At this juncture the inmates of the Free Pitch Inn were startled by a horseman, who dashed up to the door of the tavern, hatless and terri- fied—his horse covered with foam and panting with exhaustion. “My God, Jubal Osgood!” exclaimed Captain out into the yard; “ what's wrong? What’s the matter, man?” “Captain,” the man fairly gasped, as he sat | half-turned in the saddle, gazing back along the | route he had come as if fearing pursuit, ‘* Joe | Wiltz is dead! He—he was shot dead at my side, as we were coming down the road by that | Unknown Marksman! And that’s not all: saw that dreaded being—that terrible scourge | of the—” * What, you saw—” “The Unknown Marksman—stood face to face with him! Oh, Lord, captain!” And the man shook in the saddle as if with an ague chill. CHAPTER XIII. ‘“HE COMES!”—THE DREAD UNKNOWN! AN hour after Jubal Osgood arrived with the startling news of Joe Wiltz’s death at the hands of the Unknown Marksman, fifty or more per- sons had assembled at the Five Points. Nearly half of Spencer’s men were there—the rest of the crowd being composed of a few French Canadians from Bertraw’s camp, and a few whites and Indians from Alleghan, who had come to witness the sports of the ay: But the foot-racing was entirely lost sight of in the excitement that prevailed over the death of Wiltz, and the presence of that unknown scourge so close to the Points. Jubal Osgood, for the time being, became the chief center of attraction. He was im ned upon every side for a description of the dread enemy, and growing tired of describing him to every man, he finally mounted the horse-block in front of the inn and said: . ‘*Gentlemen, you all seem desirous of know- ing what the Unknown Mar _tharfore I'll tell you all together. Wiltz and I war coming down the river road toward this pcs, conversin’ ’bout the foot-race, and so orth. We war ’bout two miles from here when _arifle in the bushes before us rung out, and a cry burst from Wiltz’s lips. I turned my head and saw him reel on bis horse, and as he fell, I saw a little pink — appear on his forehead where the bullet struck. Just then his horse skeered and bounded away, and seeing I could do r Joe no good, 1 put spur to ’scape a lar death. I’d not Oh a oe over fifty yards when a man with the smoke still curlin’ from the muzzle of his gun, issued from the woods and stopped by the roadside, And such a man! One glance was enough. He was nine feet high if he was an inch, and seemed to be) raising higher and higher like the head of a a His beard was half as long as himself, and his I know, were as big as my fist, and glowed Us of fire as they glared at me. I tell ye s, I never saw such a human being. I don’t b’lieve he is a man, but some devi monster ey like bo Jubal Osgood, saw with my own eyes; and know now what the Unknown Marksman is. ‘* Verilv,” said Gershom Bland, who had lis- tened with ears and mouth open, “ friend Os- good is a little excited, and peradventure his eyes have deceived him,” 13 ‘Nothing but a monster could kill and slay innocent people,” added Sandy Gray, laying considerable emphasis mage his words. “Ab! this is a wicked, sinful world,” sighed Obed, the Mennonite. “Thee truly, friend Obed,” responded Gershom, ‘‘but with perseverance thee may sail through to the harbor of eternal peace. But then I must confess fears of this ungodly assassin, since he was seen upon my route to- da Pd a Men,” shouted Spencer, “let us not stand idle here; surely fifty men are not afraid to face one! Let us divide up into about a dozen parties and heet the woods of Michigan through and through but what we get this lurking assas- sin. Not one of us will be safe so long as he is en to run at large. I am ready to sacri- ce my life, if need be, in ridding the country | of this unnatural monster. If there is a man | that'll kill us all. This, gentlemen, is what I, | | Spencer never had any here who refuses to join in the hunt, let him step out.” < Lois iB friend Spencer,” said Gershom, at way through the crowd and con- mting the captain, ‘‘ thee knows my religious principles; but should the Unknown ksman | cure,’” said the Quaker, advancing to the bar; meet me on my route, perchance he would not respect'a mail-carrier any more than a lumber- man; nor hesitate to shoot a Friend any more than a sinner; therefore I will give thee the peseance of my company, at least, in the search or the abominable creature; and venture will lay violent hands on the monster should it become nec bug “That's the , Gershom!” answered 8 cer; then erin ben the crowd, he asked: “‘ Does any one know whether Running Deer, the Chip- pewa, is here or not?” He was answered by a voice in the affirma- tive, and the next moment the straight, lithe form of the Chippewa advanced through the crowd—moving with the cat-like grace and agility of the ther. In the hollow of his left arm he carried his double-barreled rifle; while | under his right arm hung his mail-pouch. As he approached the captain, he fixed a look upon that worthy that caused him to fairly wince. rticular love for this intelligent and honorable young Indian, and his dislike had finally turned to fear. He believed he was as treacherous as he was subtle and cun- ning, yet he knew that he had no superior in all Michigan as a scout and hunter, and as their dread of the Unknown Marksman was a mutual one, he felt certain that the Indian would be worth a dozen common men on the enemy’s trail. “Running Deer,” he said, addressing the young Indian, “if ever the ekill of a good scout was req t is now; and to you we are all will to concede that honor. Will yon ac- cept of the position of general scout in the great search we are about to make for the Unknown Marksman?” 7 agpaen- Bcaagd is no coward; he is willing to do anything for his friends,’ replied the young mail-carrier, addressing his words to he crowd, as if he disdained speaking to Spen- cer, “‘ Then I would suggest,” said the captain, as- suming the right ak as leader of the party, “that you go with Osgood to the point where the assassin was seen, and see which di- rection he took; with this information gained, men can be Spored through the woods to sur- round him. eanwhile, a fay had better R34 along and bring in oad Wiltz’s body before the wolverines attack it.” With a grim, stoical smile Running Deer sig- nified his willingness to begin the work assigned and, accompanied by Os , and four others with litters, he set off up the river. In the meantime Captain Spencer began per- fecting arrangements for a general search by dividing the crowd up into parties of four, and drafting a plan of operation. While thus engaged Running Deer and his companions came hurrying back toward the Points, apparently in great excitement. ‘* Heavens!” exclaimed the captain. der what is wrong now?” “Verily, fear seized be the minds of those brave men,” observed shom, in a tone slight) sarcastic. Til bet thar’s no ten men here that'll face that walkin’ death-machine,” exclaimed Sandy Gray. sd What brings you back?” exclaimed Spencer, as the men hurriedly approached. placed his fingers to his lips, significant of silence. man evinced great fear and excitement. A dead silence settled over the three-score of men, while three-score of eager, frightened faces looked nervously around them. Osgood, approaching the party, said, in alow, excited tone: “* He’s comin’ down the road |” ** Who’s coming?’ asked Spencer. “The giant—the Unknown Marksman!” A low cry of terror escaped every lip. A con- vulsive shudder passed over the assembly of armed, and hitherto boastful, men. Fear be- came written upon nearly every face. “T won- | And w ? Aman was coming down the road. They / ‘ -
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foe EEE er ie were soon to stand face to ‘face with one of whom their very souls had become ingraited with fear.» An‘ this fear, engendered when each was alone, could not be dispelled now by the presence..of sypericr numbers. “Numerical power gave them no assurance of safety. The scene was an interesting one: sixty men; apparently rooted’ with fear, stood still with fluttering hearts, white, quivering lips, and fix- ed éyes, watching for tho coming of—a single } ' door, and were followed by the flutter of feet, man ! , Had the trumpet of the archangel heralded the coming of the Judgment’ Day the eyes of that band could not have been more closely fixed upon the Wast for the coming of the Son of Man eet Gershom Bland muttered something about the shedding of blood, and edged around ‘to. the rear of the crowd. His movements seemed to have created a sort of panic, for all the rest of the crowd became affected with a désire to fall back to the rear. Every man felt as though he would be the especial vic im of the dread¢d foe. A bird, fluttering up from the bushes by the roadside, was noticed by those three-score pairs of watchful eyes. ¥ Three score pairs of listening ears imagined they could hear the massive tread of the ap- proaching demon. The top of the coon-skin cap was suddenly dis- covered above the tops of the bushes where the road ‘made a bend. Bat’ no wearer was yet visinle. “Ho comes!” whispered Old Sandy, his teeth fairly chattering, aud his cyes starting from their'sockets. , ** And, good beavens! he ‘s tall as them bush- es—even taller than Osgood said—” “There!” stammered Captain Spencer, with apparent terror; “ look !—stand firm !—fall back! —heavens!” and the captain seemed on the verge of flight. , i The object of their fears had at last appeared in sight, He was a tall, powerful man whom their fears had magnified into a giant of Titan Peppa Vith a firm, massive step the dread Unknewn advanced toward tho startled, huadling crowd of men. A silence reigned; but it was only the silence that precedes the fury of tho storm. CHAPTER, XIV. ‘CCRUCIFY Him! .CRUCIFY Hm!” Tur advancing giant wasa man in the very rime and vigor of life;and ‘could have ‘been Put little less than six feet and six inches in hight. He was as 'straigut as an Indian, and carried Limself in that firm, deeisive and gifhce- ful manner cf the lion in his native jungle. His form was clad in a hunter’s garb of yellow buck- skin and velveteen highiy ornamented—the whole fitting him so neatly as to display the con- tour of lis broad hips, deep chest, wide sboul- ders and round, muscular neck. Along, brown beard reaching to his breast gave an ‘additional look of wonderful power and strength to. his general appearance; and all that ‘could be éon- ceived of the ‘ferccity of a tiger’ the assembly at the Five Points mentally’ declared “the giant stranger tlie possessor of. But as ho came near- er more than one was astonished bythe ‘color and expression of his’ ey¢cs, They ' were of a ere blue with the meekness and innocence of a ebild. BIT LO DUR At To many the man’s huge form would ‘have dwindied away to that of a mere good-natured big boy in the light and expression of ‘the won- derful eves; but not so with the crowd of) men gathered in front of the Free Pitch Inn.” Their souls, or, ati least, most of them, had been so long strangers to any of the nobler sentimen of the human heart, and their minds so steel against the Unknown Marksman, that their’ in+ ward fury could rob be checked by any feeling of adiwiration‘for his fine physique, nor gentle, yet manly and innocent face. th The stranger was armed with‘a fine-looking rifle which he curried in the hollow of his arm.’ In his belt was'a pair of large-sized revolvers and a sheathed hunting-knife. ‘‘Good-morving, gentlemen,” the stranger said, approaching the crowd, and addregsing it in-a clear, full tone, free from the terrors of a guilty cqnscience. . |. Captain Sjiencer mado a half-choked re- sponse... The big hunter appeared not a little surprised at the Various faces fixed'so curiously upon him, and the silence maintained by all. “A pleasant day, gentlemen,” he remarked, whee ments the "wut, weepniter, todest th ‘Thee speaks the truth, stranger, thoug Cs) po obviotis to us all,” answered Gershom and, ee The crowd seemed to shrink from the approach of the stranger, who was not slow to note the fact. .- - He knew not the terrible interest centered in him, but regarded their stare es the vulgar curi- osity of the motley crowd. But it was sucha raga unflinching stare that the man me greatly embarrassed by it; and with-. passetl on, and, enter- out further words, he | in bis niind as to’ the author of, Wiltz’s death. The Giant Rifleman. ing — grocery, called for a pound of gun- ty ' Yr “‘ What fur?” demanded Phil Strahl, the pro- prictor, his courage rallying; ‘‘to shoot down innocent people with?” Tho Piant’s face flushed red, and these meek, mild eyes seemed to burn into the very soul of Phil Strahl, whose words appeared to have cut him tothe quick. Phil’s words, however,..were heard at the andthe ominous murmur of excited voices. ‘¢ Kill him! shoot him! seize him!” shouted a voice outside, and then the crowd grew bolder. “«Orucify him! crucify him!” shouted Sandy Gray. ‘¢ Peace! peace, friends,” admonished Gershom Bland; “let not thy hot heads lead thy hands into violence.” “What means this rabble?’ asked tho big stranger'of Phil Strahl. “Tt means that you are their victim.” “Why, sir;am [ treated thus? Can not an inoffensive stranger enter your house without insult?” “Ay, but you’re not inoffensive, sir; your murderin’ of innocent men has been discovered. You are’ the Unknown Marksman!’ replied Strahl. The man, for tho first time, evinced some un- easiness; though a faint, contemptuous smile wreatbed his bearded lips. “Geritlemen, if you really think so, all I ask is a fair hearing,” he said, addressing a9 ‘around him, ‘for I deny the charges pre- erred.’ ‘*He'erenders; and asks a fair trial,” bellow- ed burly Phil Strakl, though every word cost him an effort. ‘““You murdered Joe Wiltz, confound you,” yelled Osgood, growing bold enough to shake a pistol in the stranger’s face; ‘‘you can’t deny that, sir.” “Sir, I recognize 5 teal replied. the man; ‘you are the coward that deserted your dead comrade when shot down in the road by an un- seen foe.” ‘*Yes, and vou are the foe that killed him,” replied Osgood, stung to the quick by the man’s wores. “‘Then this is why I am treated thus? That man lias told "you I slew his comrade,” said the stranger. ‘It is false—every word of it. I heard the report of the rifle, and stepped to the roadside to see what it meant. Just then that man rode past'me, wild with terror.” “A very probable story, gentlemen, when I see’d the smoke comin’ out of the muzzle of his gun,” said Osgood, derisively. ‘You saw no such thing. Ihave not fired my gun to-day,” was the stranger’s bold contra- diction. ‘‘The load is in that I put there this morning.” ‘‘Stranger,” said Captain Spencer, assuming his usual’ air of authority, ‘‘ for nearly a year some murderous wretch has been wandering through the woods of the Black rivers, amusing bimself by*shooting down our citizens, and sus- picton has. fixed upon you as being that Un- nown Destroyer; theretore, we consider it our duty to arrest you upon the information of Jubal Osgood. ? eT shall offer no resistance; all I askis a fair, impartial hearing,” replied the hunter. *s You shall have it,’ answered the captain. The giant hunter was disarmed, and his rifle and other weapons closely examined. To the bitter regret of all, they found the former was a piece of heavy caliber; while bis builet-pouch and pockets disclosed nothing having the sem- blance of a copper ball, large or small. Still the infuriated crowd did not despair of poe thegiant guilty of being the terrible foe; an so a court was at once convened. Phil Strahl, who made some pretensions to legal Jore, from the fact of his being in posses- sion of a copy of the postal laws, donned the judicialermine by:the unanimous request of his friends, and took bis scat under a tree in front ofthe inn, with all the formal dignity of a chief justice. _ L&jjury of twelve men wes impanneled with- ott fany of the usual formalitics of selecting a yuo @aptain Spencer was appointed by the court to'prosecute the case. Heveral men were sent out after Wiltz’s body, and'to measure the ground and make a note of all'the alleged particulars of the situation of the prisoner ° and: the victim: at the time of the death, “Of course, Osgood led the party, and when they returned: he was the first witness placed upon the stand. } Nothing new was deduced from his evidence. He swore sutstantially to what he declared from the horse-block.. He would admit: of no doubt Heéveven swore that the rifle taken from the giant'was not the same that he held when he passed him on the road. This caused no little commotion in the crowd and a score of men were at once dispatch in search of the concealed rifle. Meanwhile, the trial went on. Obed, the Mennonite, made a statement as to the aileged position of the giant and bis victim when Osgood saw bim. He Ce een eee a See See ee ee ee a ee ee also gave his views as to the murder, but, they had little bearivg on the case. He would swear to nothing, for the Mennonite faith opposed tke taking of an oath. With one or two other witnesses, the prosecu- tion rested. The defendant had no. evidence other than ‘his cwn emphatic denial of the charges to offer; and even this was hooted at by the mob. After a long address by Captain Spencer, the case was given to the jury. A deep silence and painful uncerteinty tock possession of the crowd pending the delibera- tion of the jury. But it lasted only fora short time, when the jury returned with a verdict of ** Guilty.” A grim smile of derision passed over the pri- oe face as the foreman announced the ver- dict. A wild shout of triumph burst from three- score of powerful lungs. At this juncture Jubal Osgood was seen to stagger aid reel as though drunk. <A friend at his side caught him. A little pink spot eppear- ed upon his forehead from which drops o! blood oozed and chased each other down his face. “My God!” cried Spencer, ‘he has been slain —chot by the murderer whom we felt we had in our power! Did any one hear the report of a rifle?” No one had, for the yells that rent the air at the time would have drowned the report of a cannon. The echoes were still rebounding through the woods. ‘* How often, ob, mercy,” cried Judge Strahl, ‘*have our shouts of joy got to turn to wails of sorrow?” ‘Verily, I say unto. thee,’ said Gershom Bland, ‘‘the wages of sin is death, and friend Osgood has been slain for bearing false witness against a brother. Peichance, it would Le as well for thee to release the big stranger that he may help thee in thy search for the ungodly murderer. I now feel anxious that he be seizd by violent hands since he luiks along the way I pursue.” Spencer at once acted upon the suggestion of the Quaker, and liberating the stranger, restored his arms and accouterments to him. He endea- vored to make an apology for the treatment he h.d been instrumental in giving the giant; and the latter accepting all very calmly, quietly replied: ‘Tam sorry that it has required such dc rate evidence to convince you of my entire in- nocence.’ I have heard of this Unknown Mrrks- man before [ came into this vicinity; but always supposed it was a name applied to the Vigilance Committee of the lumber districts.. My name is Goliah Strong, and at present lem serving as guice to three young men who follow the cecu- pation of bee-hunters, and who are encamped near Spirit Rapids. . I never did aughtof which Iam ashamed; but if this Unknown Marksman is not your vigilante, as 1 supposed he was, then there is some cause for his haunting you people like an avenging Nemesis. There is no human so depraved as to scout the woeds, and shoot men down for the mere love of murder, There is something back of all this silent death-work, ‘The Unknown Marksman, you will find yet, is an avenger; at least this is my opinion.” ‘* Amen,” was Gershom, bland’s solemn in- dersement of the big bunter’s words. ; ‘“ Thee speaks jike a Christian and philosopher, friend Strong,” said Obed Smiley, with an unc- tuous acquiescence. . ‘“Vengeance(is mine, saith, the, Lord,” said Sandy :Gray, in astrange tone, intended to be solemn,» ; ey F Goliah Strong, the giant. hunter, was ‘permit- ted to departyin peace; and.soon alter, tle. Five Points were deserted by those who had assem- bled to take part in the races and sports of tho aye 0 0 0 Some went in search of the Unknown De stroyer, and some went home. Gerber Bland. Sandy.Gray and Running Deer, each depar f r his. respective settlement withthe, mat ; and Phil Strahl. now found himself alone with the terrified members of his, household. Outside all was now silent) save the. ominous creaking of-the great sign-board, and. the cold, st iii rnstling of the pines like the robes of tbe e CHAPTER XV. A HEROIC GIRL'S FIGHT TOR LIFE. An August. sun, almost sultry, bot, sbone from a clear sky, while not a breath of air was moving. aja ig Silent and dreary Jay the Blue.Marsh in the heart of the great woods. Deserted.and silent seemed the lonely hut of the ,old, erenberry- picker; and yet the door stood ajar, and as the sun crossed the zenith, the old man and his pretty grandchild, ic 2 Zane, emerged from the ut, and), walked slowly down, the green. slo to the creek, where lay two Indian canoes made of bark, Each of them carried a-willow basket, for they were on their way to the marsh for whortleberries—this crop now heing ripe. Each one took a canoe, and after paddling down the stream some distance, Ida landed on one side and her grandfather on tue other. The
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half filed, when sudden ; former tied up her canoe, then turning, walked out into the low bushes that were laden with their dark, luscious berries, and began her la- bor, , Her little fingers darted here and there among tle bushes with a dexterity that could only come. of practice. Now and then she paus- ed to eat. a berry, or to glance around her to re- lieve her head of its dizziness, and her eyes of the blur superinduced by the excessive heat. Not a breath of air stirred the. bushes, nor ssed over wood or swamp. Nota sound sayo he twitter of birds, that had come to feast on the purple berries, Lroke tbo stillness of the place. Put busily pretty Ida Zane picked away. An hour cr more had egogg her basket was 7 a faint sound, like a far-off human vaice, fell upon her ears. She ceased her labor, and tipping her hat back upon her neck, she pressed her berry-stained finger to her lips, as if to invoke deeper silence around lier. _ Thus she listened for some time; but she heard nothing, and all she could see wasa few vultures, wheeling and circling in the air, over the woods to the south of the marsh. But this was a very common sight, and she thought nothing cf it, until she again heard that sound s0 closely resembling a human voice. , She con- tinued listening now until she had heard it the third time, and as it camo more distinct, she now became satisfied that it was a human voice —the voice of some one in distress; and she shuddered when she discovered that it came from the vicinity over which those vultures were hovering. , For a mornent the maiden stood undecided as to the course she should pursue, for she felt satisfied some che was in distress, The thought of deception never entered her young mind, end her heart became, touched with anxious sympathy for the author of those. feeble cries. She looked fer her grandfather, to ask his ad- vice, iu the matter; but he was out of sight among, the bushes, and so she concluded to lose no time in bunting him up, but placing her basket in ber canoe sbe-started for the woods fast,as her little feet would carry her. She ran on until nearly out of breath, when she stopped to listen, for the overshadowin tree-tops now concealed her guise the buzzards —from view. Ske had not long to wait; plain- ly to ber ears came that sad cry of distress. It filled her breast with fear and horror, and yet it drew her on and on, as if it were podced of some terrible fascination, As the little berry-picker advanced deeper and.deeper into the woods, other sounds than those of human suffering became audible. They were the gibbering and snarling cf wolverines and the shriek of vultures. With her heart in her throat, brave little Ida moved on—on until a frightful, startling scene burst upon her view—a scene from which she recoiled in hor- e, In the center of a little opening, on a bare, stony ridge, where the boiling sun beat down unobstructed, lay the form of a man. <A great stone was at his back; in bis hand he clutched a stick with which he defended hiinself from the wolverines that were snarling and skirmishing around him, His head was bare, and the hair all matted with gore. His face was streaked with blood, and wore a look of agony that could only have come of long suffering. His ae be 3 was tattered and torn as if ‘by the teeth of the wolverines; and, taken altogether. he was an object of the most haggard an wretched appearance Ida Zane had. ever looked upon. And yet she saw that he was young—a mere boy in years. ay Back of him lay the carcass of a deer, fester- ing and blistering in the sun. It was the deer slain the day before by Randolph Spencer, and it was the putrid flesh of this animal that at- tracted the vultures and wolverines there; but when they came, they seemed more anxious to feast upon the living than the dead. After she had taken in the sight, and had fully comprehended the situation, brave little Ida Zane advanced to the rescue of the suffer- ing youth. She uttered a little cry that sent the cowardly wolverines scampering away into the woods, and the vultures into. the air. Then she turned to the wounded boy; but be- fore she could speak, he raised his eyes, and cried out: “Oh, thank God! my prayers have been a aE ‘The Giant Rifleman. must hare been deliricus, for 1 was’very weak from loss cf blood. Imaliy, a raging fever set in, and itseemed as though I would surely burn up. When this subsided, and full con- sciousness returned, hunger next seized upon me; but I was unable to walk, and so I crawl- ed off through the woods—eating some berries and roots, _Atlength L came to the carcass of the deer, where I feasted my hunger upon the tainted flesh;,and kere have I remained ever since—growing weaker instead of stronger. The hot sun pcuring upon my head, and the wolve- rines together, will soon put anend tomy suffer- ing, and—” : ** No, no, sir!” cried the maiden, in wild ex- citement; ‘‘ they shall not come near. you; be- sides, I canassist.you tothe shade. Then I will call grandpa;,you shall not die.”, ‘*Do not excite yourself about me, fair girl,” said the almost exhausted youth; ‘‘I cannot walk—my limbs are paralyzed: You cannot move me from here.” ‘Then give me that kvife in your belt,” she replied, and lifting the weapon from its sheath, she bounded away across the opening to the woods and soon came back with some bushes with which she erected a shade over the unfcr- tunate young bee-hunter. 4 God bless you, litt’e woman,” he_ said, gratefully, as the cool shade seemed to per- vade his spirit with renewed strength; “ will you tell me what your name is? and where you reside?” “‘T live at the Blue Marsh with Daniel Berry; but my name is Ida Zane. Grandpa Berry is not very far from here, so I will run and bring him over, and together we can help you home.” . “No, no; stay, Ida,” he said, quickly; ‘ you are nearly exhausted now, child; wait until you have been well rested.” ‘* But you are suffering, Nathan Darrall,” she replied, calling Lim by name with a childlike familiarity. ‘“‘Tam feeling a great deal better now, I as. sure you. .This shade eases my pain. Oh, the tortures of this day! The Lord only knows what I have suffered; and even yet my eyes seem ready to Lurst out of my head. But I know I will get better.” Tears of pity welled up into the eyes of the little berry-picker. She took off her hat, and, with sisterly kindness, fanned the feverish face of the suffering youth. Ida Zane did not re- gard him as a more sophisticated girl would a stranger. She knew him only as a suffering fellow-being, to whom her young soul went out with, all her woman’s pity and sympathy—a sufferer in need of the tenderest assiauities of gentle hands, __. , The cool breeze that kissed Nattie’s cheeks acted with the } ower of a soothing balm. It drove away much of the pain that the heat had ae 6 ut at the same time he felt a strange rowsiness stealing over him. Heavy wei hts seemed pressing downward upon his eyelids, and objects became dim and _ visionary to his sight. He struggled bard to keep awake, and it required every effort of his will to overecme the reaction that was but the result of the alle- viation of his suffering. His nervous system was giving way as the pain, that had kept it up subsided; and. he would soon have been sound asleep had he not suddenly been roused by a cry of excitement from Ida’s lips, The maiden bad discovered that the wolver- ines were returning—reinforced—a dozen strong; while overhead the vultures were again wheeling and circling in the air. She sprung up, and scizing a stout stick, stcod ready to beat the animals off. Sheapprehended but little danger from them at first, for she sup- posed they were attracted there by the dead deer; but she knew it was all important to keep them from the carcass, for once there they would not hesitate to attack the wounded lad who lay so near. So she frighteded them away, but they soon came back and set up a terrible wrangling and snarling. This brought others. One by one their force was rradually increased; and they grew bolder as their numbers pow stronger. They encircled the little glade, a hundred strong. ‘ Ida Zane stood over the helpless youth, club in hand, She now became seriously alarmed for his safety, and this uncasiness increased as she saw, the force of animals growing stronger and stronger. She knew they were naturally cowardly .when in small force, but when in date numbers they were ferocious and deadly. 8 the wolverines adyanced closer and closer upon the tempting quarry, the vulturesdescend- ed lower, They knew each other, for at mary a forest banquet had they feasted together. They were bel Sa ghou ; Gradually tbe cowardly beasts contracted their circle by advancing and _retreating—gain- ing a few inches at each advance, and using an almost human instinct in endeavoring to crowd some of their number forward upon the pros- trate form of the young bee-hunter. Bravely little Ida stood at her post, and plied Slap upon the beasts that had come 60 close ‘hat she could now rap them over the head. athan’s very soul became inspired by the wonderful courage of the maiden, and he en- Ra OR Ey Oe ae rg deavored toassist her. He ee his’ stick and feebly raised it aloft: But, despite their At length a number of them reached the carcass of the deer, and, hungry and ravenous. they began tearing at the flesh, and fighting nnd tumbling around it, a seething mass of shag forms, Otbers dashed on and joined at the feast and fight, and in endeavoring to drive them away, ahuge old maleturned and seized da by the skirts of her dress; but a we] diréctcd blow caused it to release its-hold and ret) eat. Not the half cf the madcened, voraciovs beasts could get near the carcass of the decr, and at length those on the outside of the secth- ing horde turned and began crowding toward Nathan. “Oh, my heavens, they will kill you!” Ida cried, in a tone of wil] distress. “Run, Ida; rur, atid save yourself!” the youth said; “never mind me; I am ready to die. “Oh, Nathan! I can never lesve you here alone to be tern to pieces by these fierce Leasts,” the brave girl exclaimed, and her hitherto mild soft eyes now blazed with a wild, desper- ate light. As if endowed with superhuman power, che attacked the wolverines crowding upon Nattie. She beat them away a few paces, but they scon swarmed back; while she fought them upon cne side they approachea upon the other. Never was there such an awful look stamped upon woman's face as that upon the face of ho- roic little Ida Zane: Not even the face of Riz- eee of oli, who defended her dead from the east and vultures upon Mount Gibeah beneath the blazing heat of a Judean sky, could have worn a more terrific look of Cesperate resolve. In the midst of ber awful struggle, a cicud came over the maiden, and raising her eyes she beheld a buge buzzard settling so close ovcr that she could see the blaze of its hungry eyes, the white wattles arcund its filthy beak, and the naked coral skin upon its repulsive neck. And still it was settling as if intending to bury its talons in her goldenhair. Quick as a flash she raised her club and struck it. With a bissing scream it seemed to strike back at her with its somber wing, then it soared aloft and perched itselt on the top of a great pine, still watching the scene below. The numbers of the wolverines were stil] in- creasing rapidly, and it would be impessible for the brave little heroine to held out much longer against them. She knew this, and lifting Ler voice, she cried to Heaven for help; and God. in His infinite mercy; heard her appeals and scent her assistance. In the midst of ler struggle, when all the reserved force of nature had tien summonedte a final effort, a Joud voice rw ¢g out above the jowering of the animals, and a man, followci by a number of dogs, bourded into the opening and attacked the ferocious keasts, It was Old Wolverine! “Witehes arid warlocks!” yelled the old hunter: “an angel in the midst of demons—go in, Baliic! sick ’°em, Mellow Tongue! Hurrew thar, pups! chaw ’em fine —wool’cm—that’s it, Baltic! Send ‘cm ‘cver the hills’ every grab, old dog! Ha! ha! ha! giri, ar’n’t that fuiectly lively now? Splendid scenery, ar’n’t it? The “‘scenery ” to which the od woodman re- ferred was the desperate corfiict between hig dogs and the wolverines. The latter, loth to give up their feast, made a fierce battle for it, and would ccubtless have ccme out victoricus had Old Wolverine not seized a club and desh- ed in among them; end after braining rerre than a dozen, put the rest to flight and cent the dogs in pursuit. ‘By the witches of Salem!” the old Funter exclaimed, when the battle had endce, and bo kad turned to address the 1 aiden, “the girl is stone dead!” He saw the form of the girl lying uncon- rcicus upon the earth. The reaction following her rescue had been too sudden fer her delicate nerves, and she sunk down ina dead inint. “Ske kas fainted, Wolverine,” said a veice at the old man’s side; and turning, he saw for the first time the form of a man lying under scmo leafy boughs. \ With wildly-staring eyes the old man gezca in upon him, for, though he recognized the voice, he did not the face. “Don’t you recognize me, Wolverine?” ‘Oh, great Immanuel!” cricd the hunter; “it is Nattie Darrall! By golly-ation, bey, we thought you’d gone over the bills—war drown- Hi Vother night, as we couldn’t find you high «» ow. “Thave been nearer dead than alive since that night; but, Wolverine, lock efter that gir. God never made a more heroic young soul. For one hour has she stood cver me and fought those wolverines.” ‘Ho, fr Wolverine! you have your hands — full!” a voice suddenly exclaimed
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16 “ Wolverine looked up and] saw a tall figure enter the glade. It was Goliah Strong. “ Ah, itis you, Goliah!” cried Nattie—‘‘ our big-hearted guide of several days ago.” ‘Nattie, my boy!” exclaimed tho giant hunter, *‘ fam rejoiced to see you alive. Your friends are mourning you as lost?” “ Then they escaped that night?” “Yes; but they are several miles from here now, but—” and he turned to Wolverine, ‘‘ old man, what is the trouble there?’ ‘* A gal, Goliar, a gal—sweet as cny rosebud the sun ever warmed into life. That’s what l’vo got, Goliar.” Tho giant hunter advanced to Wolvcrine’s sido, and, stooping, he gazed down into the face of the stil!) half-unconscious girl. An cx- clamation burst from his lips, and he started back with surpriso written upon his bearded face. “Do you know her, Goliar?” asked Wolver- ine, not.cing tho man’s cmotions. “No,” responded the hunter. ‘Well, ar’n’t sho a nice one, though? Jews and Gentiles! you’d crt to’a’ see’d her fightin’ wolverines away from the Loy thar. But see here, Goliar, I b’lievo you know her—least- wise, you aro terrible worked up. Does the purty faco o’ a woman alers cffect you that a- way I know it does some men—queer ’bout it, too. ‘* Wolverine, do you know that girl?” “Never sot peepers onto her before; but she’s comin’ to—jist wait and she’ll soon be able to speak for herself.” Ida soon recovered full consciousness; and when ablo to speak, the sound of her voice seemed to increase Goliah Strong’s emotions moro than ever. Tho maiden was greatly rejoiced when she learned that Nattie had been saved from the beasts and vultures. She at once suggested that he bo removed to her home for care and treatment. Sho would listen to no refusal from Nattie; but in her childlike and impulsive way insisted on his becoming their guest at Bluo Marsh until he was able to go upon his way. As there was really no alternative, the youth consented, though not against his will by — means, to bo removed to Old Cranberry’s cabin. Goliah Strong and Old Wolverine carried him down to the creek; and then, while they rested upon tho bank, Ida ran on after her canoe further up the stream. While waiting her coming with the boat in which to carry the youth up to the cabin, Old Wolverine went back to the glade to secure the scalps of the dead wolverines, upon which there was a bounty. ‘ When alone with Nattie, Goliah Strong said: “Nattie, Iam not going up to that cabin.” “Not going? Why not, Goliah?” **My reason is a very vague one.” aay! noticed, Goliah, that you were agitated by Ila’s face,” Nattie confessed. “T& was a wonderful pretty face—a face that would agitate tho heart of any man, or boy either, I observe; but, Nattic, I have a re- quest to mako of you, and that is, that you note carefully overything about the home of tho old cranberry picker. Find out the num- ber in his family, their names, if you can without being impertinent, their former resi- dence, and so forth, Wiil you promise me this, Nattie?” “*T will, Goliah,” said Nattie, asa fain’ light began to dawn upon his mind. ‘You will probably be ablo to be out in a few days, and one week from to-morrow morning { will cail here at this point—perbaps with the other boys—to eonfer with you.” “All right, Goliah; I wiil meet you,” re- lied the young bee-hunter; “for I’m getting Tuterested in you—I think I can see a little further than I could, I don’t believe you aro really what you appear to be—a hunter. 1 have wondered a great many times since we first met why you inquired so ee, into my family record; and the boys wondered, too. We finally camo to the conclusion that ‘The Unknown Marksman?” “No, no; but a—” ; “‘T have been arrested and found guilty of being that destroyer since I last saw you,” again interrupted tho hunter, “but I was re- leased upon evidence cf the unknown himself. Ab! here comes the maiden.” Ina few moments she touched the shore at the hunter’s fcet, when Nattie was placed in the canoe in an easy, reclining position. There was no room for any other .bxn the maiden and youth in the canoe, even Lad it been the cesire of either of the hunters to accon pany them; so, after a few kind, parting words, Ida dipped her paddle and the little bark glided away up the stream. Goliah Strong leaned upon bis rifle and The Giant Rifleman. fmaremruaren. = roma ‘““Why, Goliar, are they gone?’ ho asked, as | thattree? Ill bet you it plays an important ho ar proached the hunter. “Yes; the boat would carry no more; be- sides, I had no desire to go over there; for, Wolverine, that secluded hut”—and the big hunter pointed away toward the cabin of the old berry-picker with a wild, tragic look—‘‘I solemnly believe holds a _ secret—a_ secret which the silence of past years has kept as still as though locked in the tomb of the dead!” ‘© Whew!” whistled Old Wolverine, in sur- prise. * Ono by. one,” the quiet hunter continued, as if speakinz to himself, ‘‘the clouds are be- ginning to break away. Who knows what the future may reveal?” Several minutes of silence ensued; then the two men turned and, without a word, entered the dark, green woods. CHAPTER XVI. SHADOWING A NIGHT-WALKER. OLD WOLVERINE and Goliah Strong bent their footsteps in the direction of piege¢ Spen- cer after turning their backs upon the Blue Marsh; and after a couple hours’ brisk walk- ing came within the sound of the lumbermen’s axes. Thecrash of falling trees directed their course, and keeping clear of the workmen they passed around toward the camp. It was not their intention to go to the houses; but Goliah had expressed a desire to examine the location of the camp aud its surroundings without him- self being seen, East of the camp every tree, except one, had been cut down ard taken away. This one was a tall, majestic pine around whose base grew a clump of dense undergrowth, On the edge of this clearing Old Wolverine and Goliah halted. The latter ran his keen eye over the clearing noting everything closely. Presently he fixe his gaze upon the solitary pine and remarked: “It’s rather singular they didn’t fall that tree. **Reckon they left that out of respect for the majesty of its fallen companions,” observed Wolverine. “I hardly think Captain Spencer has that much veneration for the grandeur of these woods. I think it must have been left for some other purpose; it may be hollow.” ‘* Never, Goliah; you can’t fool me on that. I’ve been in the woods too long not to be able to know a holler tree by its external appear- ance fur asI can see it. No, sir; ll go youa ducat that it’s as sound to the very heart as any tree in Michigan.” ‘Well, that may all be; but I have a way of clutching at straws, instinctively, that most always helps me out of the rapids. Now, I want to look a little closer at that tree the first opportunity I have; and that will be soon, for the shadows of evening are already gather- ing.” The two men waited in the woods until dark- ness sct in, and were about to approach the lone tree when they saw a light coming from the camp directly toward them. Crouching low they watched the moving light. The soon discovered it was a lantern in the hands of a man, who, passing near them went on into the forest. t “That feller’s Cap. Spencer, sure’n thun- er. “ Let us follow him; it may be a clew.” ‘“‘Easy then, Goliar,” and the two glided from their covert and crept softly away after tue light. Down through the deep woods they followed on with the dogged patience of Indian war- riors. At length the sharp barking of a dog caused the light to stop. A man’s voice was heard to call out from the darkness beyond, to wlich he of the lantern answered: ‘** Randolph Spencer.” ‘All right; come ahead, captain,” was the reply. R Xh !” exclaimed Old Wolverine. ‘‘I know where we are now; that’s the Shingle-Weavers’ camp.” “Indeed? Well, now would bea good time to advance while the dog is barking at Spencer. Wait here, Wolverine, till I come back.” As the light they bad_been following disap- red in the Shingle-Maker’s hut, the big 1unter stole softly forward. The dog con- tinued to bark, but no voice challenged the lLunter. Half an hour passed when the light again ap- peared, and moved away in the direction it had | Before it was out of sight Goliah Strong | come. was at Wolverine’s side. ‘*Come, Old Wolvey,” he said, in apparent delight; “‘let’s foller the light back. This night’s work will not be for nothing.” Again they glided away upon the trail of the unsuspecting man. For two hours longer they followed him. in the drama of life,” said Goliah, rubbing is bands with glee. “But then I'll examine it another time—when [ am ready; and now, friend Wolverine, I am ready to follow you.” “Then let us strike for camp on the Black river, I want a little nap before we strike out for the Five Points to assist in organizing a grand hunt for the Unknown Marksman. fm interested in that matter, Goliah, for I don’t know what minute that bloodthirsty wretch may send a bullet through my head,” So saying, they turned and hurried away to- ward the river; and about midnight1reached the camp, or bivouac, occupied by Frank Ballard and Ed Mathews. “‘Nattie lives, boys!” shouted Old Wolverine, as they approached the camp-fire by which the two young bee-hunters sat mourning the loss of their young friend, and talking over the new sorrow it would be to his mother. “* Wolverine,” exclaimed Frank, rising to his feet, half in doubt as to the truth of the old hunter’s words, ‘‘do you tell this for a fact?” ‘itis true, boys,” affirmed their guide, Go- = Strong; ‘*T bave seen him and ked with im. Frank and Ed sprung up and sent their shouts of joy through the woods upon the midnight stillness. ‘* That is the happiest news I ever heard,” said Ed; “sit down, Goliah, and tell us where brave, kind, rollicking Nattie Darrall is.” The hunters seated themselves, when Goliah narrated Nattie’s adventures, as told by himself, from the time they were thrown out of the boat into the river up to the time of his rescue in the forest glade from the wolverines. “It was a narrow escape for him,” said Frank. ‘We were just saying that if he was dead, the news would kill poor widowed mother.” “Speaking of his widowed mother,” said Goliah Strong, ‘‘reminds me of a question I want to ask you, boys: how long have you known Nattie Darrall?” “‘T have known him ever since a babe. We lived next-door neighbors to the Darralls,” re- plied Frank Ballard, somewhat surprised by the interest manifested by Goliah in Nattie. “What kind of people were the Darralls?” the big hunter continued. “*Very fine people; Mr. Darrall and his wife were highly respected.” “What was their financial condition—say five or six yearsago?” “*They were in good circumstances, financial- ly. I think Mr. Darrall was worth about fifty thousand dollars at one time.” “ At one time; then the widow is poor now?” “Yes; very poor.” “‘ How did they lose their property?” “Through some carelessness on the part of Mr. Darrall, and rascality on the part of others.” “Do you know the circumstances by which it was lost, Frank?’ the hunter asked. “Yes,” responded Ballard; ‘ in the first place, Mr. Darrall’s health became rather delicate, and as he was unable to oversee the m ment of his large landed possessions, he con- cluded to sell them and place the money on in- terest with real est:.te security. And no sooner had he effected the sale than two men, Captain Randolph Spencer, of lumber region fame, and one James Trimble, called be Se him to negotiate a loan of fifty thousand dollars. They offered a vast tract of timber Jand worth four times the amount as security, and so they had no trouble in meking the loan. The mortgege and notes were drawn up and acknowledged ly the village eg and forty-five thousand dollurs oat to imble & Spencer. Five thousand more was to be pee in one week. The next day Mr. Darrall was to go to D——, the county seat of O—— county, to have the notes and mortgage | placed upon record; but that night the papers ull disappeared from the drawer in which Mr. Darrsli bad placed them. A_ burglar had got into the house and carried them cff! A close search was made for the thief, and a reward offered for the return of the papers, Lut they came not. Mr. Darrall was now in a great strait; and, to add to his difficulty, the man who owed him a balance on his farm failed, and not a dollar leit. He hed lost all but the amount paid Spencer and Trimble, forty-five thousand dollars. As fifty thousard was the amcunt promised them, ke was unable to make aye the remaining five thousand. However, e called upon Messrs, Spencer and Trimble and offered to make them a release to the Icst mortgage and Maen it upen the record of the court, in consideration of which they were to execute a new mortgage to cover the foriy-five thousand dollars alrea uy received. This Spen- cer and Trimble refused to do, unless he would pay the full amount promiscd; they knew he could not pay a dollar more than he hed, and made this an excuse to cheat him cut of i : At length they reached the edge of the clear- the i gazed after the receding boat with a strange, ing. Here the light was put out, much to Go- co thousand dollars which they had al- ii thoughtful expression upon his face. He seem- | liah’s regret, But the moon was shining, and | ready received.” to the happy surprise of the two hunters they “a faw their man turn to the right and disap- solitary pine. ‘““Wolvey, what did I tell you, old boy, about t ed to have forgotten his existence until aroused I from his reverie by Old Wolverine, who came swinging down the hill, with his dogs at his i heels, whistling—“Over the and far i) away.” e infernal whelps!” exclaimed Old Wol- verine, springing to his feet and cracking his fist in the palm of bis hand. ‘1’d like to craw and quarter them both! I know Trimble, and I know Spencer.” pear in the thicket surrounding that
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= The Giant Rifleman. ‘* Well, did Darrall ever make any attempt to recover his money of Spencer and Trimble?” asked Goliah. “Yes; a suit was begun in probate court but before the sitting ot the term Mr. Darrall died. The widow made no appearance in court, for she preferred keeping the few bundred dol- lars remaining for herself and boy to giving it to the lawyers; and so the suit was dismissed and poor . Darrall and her boy paupers. Neither Trimble nor Spencer have ever been the men to give hera dollar of the forty-five thousand justly due her.” Rascals!” exclaimed Goliah Strong, rising to his feet, and pacing toand fro before the fire, his eyes flashing with some inward emotion, Presently he said: y “Frank, don’t you think that money can be recovered yet?” ‘* If those notes and mortgages could be found, it would be no trouble; but my opinion is they are not in existence.” “You think they are not in existence, do you?” asked paieey 2 stopping short and fixing a strange look i im. “I think they are not,” answered Frank, startled by the big hunter’s actions. ‘What reason have you for thinking so, Frank?’ Strong continued. “I don’t know what reason I have for my opinion, more than—” ‘Well, did it ever occur to your mind who were the thieves that stole those —. “Suspicion was fixed upon Claude Turner; but nothing was ever proven against him.” ‘* Did it never occur to you that these men, Trimble and Spencer, were instrumental in stealing these papers from Mr. Darrall, to pre- vent him getting them upon the records of the court?” “Tt never did, Goliah.” ‘Well, sir, men that are mean enough to see a woman suffer, as you say Mrs. Darral does, would not have been too good to steal the pa- ers. With the money, or most of it, already in their hands, dishonorable men would have called it a clear one could they destroy all written evidence of it having been borrowed be- fore that evidence went to record. I believe there is some secret about this affair that the Darralls and their friends never mistrusted. I may look into it, by-and-by; but let us drop the subject for to-night. We all need rest, and if we go down to the Five Points to-morrow, to aid those folks in their arrangements for a search for the Unknown Marksman, we want to feel fresh and vigorous. So, boys, suppose we all turn in.” “Nuff said,” replied Old Wolverine, stretch- ing himself along the earth, and pillowing his head upon Baltic’s form; “ boys, if you want a pillow, jist help yerself among my dogs thar.” Although the old hvunter’s friends did not avail themselves of his offer, they stretched themselves along the earth, and were soon sound asleep. By daylight the party were astir and break- fasting early, they set out for the Five Points, to be preseut at the meeting called there for the coming night. The party journeyed along leisurely, and it was not un reached. They at once repaired to general head-quarters, the Free Pitch Inn, where they found a number of men had already assembled. Some of them were from Camp Spencer, some from Alleghan, some from pent eon and a few from South Haven. Most of the latter, however, were notorious gamblers and black- legs, who made it a point to come up to the Free tch Inn about once a month to have a general good time where there were no legal limita- tions, as well as to fleece the lumbermen out of some of their hard-earned wages at the gam- bling-table. The leader of this South Haven party we have met before. It was the notorious James Trim- ble; and with this man bad Captain Randolph Spencer been closeted all day. o one thought anything of it, in particular, as they were part- ners in the possession of a large tract of timber. land, and all supposed they were talking over their business matters. But in this the people were mistaken; they were discussing the events of that memorable night on the raft when some unknown hand snatched that important docu- ment, purporting to tell where the stolen Dar- rall notes and mortgage were concealed, from their hands; and their suspicion was, at length, fastened upon Old Wolverine as not only being the impudent thief, but the Unknown Marksman also! 4 So the two plotted a kind of a conspiracy against the old borderman. Knowing his fond- ness for whisky, they determined to get him drunk that night, and while under the influence of liquor, get him aside and search his person for the paper, and endeavor to “ pump” him for information. : Wolverine mistrusted something of the kind assoon as be had seen how attentive Spencer Nattie, were | ‘*T see there is blood in those South Havenites’ eyes,” Goliah remarked. ; “* Whisky’s puttin’ it thar, tho’,” replied Wol- verine. ; After supper was over the crowd all repaired to the bar-room where a number of tables had been arranged for cards. Phil Strahl, the pro- prietor, had concluded not to lose the chance of a few dimes while the crowd was guthering, even if the object of the meeting was for a more | serious purpose about dusk that the Points were | | Spencer and Trimble sat down by a table in one corner and invited Old Wolverine to occupy achair with them. The old hunter accepted, and as he took his chair he tucked his long whiskers in the bosom of his hunting-sbirt, and adjusted his heavy mustache preparatory to work, Goliah Strong, Frank Ballard and Ed Math- ews took seats in an opposite corner where they could watch what was going on over the room. Playing at once commenced at Spencer’s table. t first small amounts were bet; this was to test Wolverine’s financial strength. At the end of every game drinks were ordered. Old Wolverine drank every time—smacking his lips with infinite gusto; and it was not long be- | fore he became somewhat loud and boisterous. He lost nearly every game. He swore like those around him, and to his friends it seemed as though he had lost all sense of border honor and manliness. Old Goliah Strong watched him from under his hat-brim with a strange, eager smile upon his face that Ed and Frank did not fail to de- tect. Frank and Ed were completely shocked by the rudeness and wickedness manifested by the crowd. Clinking glasses and shuffling cards blended with fierce oaths and ribald jests. It was a scene new to the bee-hunters; and they were greatly surprised by it. They supposed they were coming to an orderly meeting con- vened for a serious purpose. Suddenly Phil Strahl, from the bar, exclaim- ed: ‘* As soon as the people are all in, the house ’ll be called to order. Bear this in mind, all of ou.” she This, Ed,” said Frank, in a low tone, to his companion, “is life in the lumber region. I wish Nattie could be here to see it; not that there is anything about it to be admired.” f “It is perfectly shocking, Frank,” replied Ed; “but, hark! hat’s Wolverine saying?” “These are consolidated wolverine skulps,” they beard the hunter remark, as he flourished a number of bank-bills above his head; ‘‘ they completes (hic) my pile, boys, and I’m goin’ to buck the hull o’ them even if they all do go— “** Over the hills and far away, Over the (hic-ills) and far away, Over— Put up fifty on that, will ye, cap’n?—you, too James Mad’son Trimble (hic).” “shee The captain and Trimble covered the old | hunter’s pile and the game began. Great in- terest now became manifested, for these were large stakes for the Five Points. Several mea | athered around the players; and all could not elp noticing the terrible eagerness marked pe am fee Wolverine’s face as the game pro- gressed, A deep silence fell upon the house, but it was at length broken by a voice shouting out that Old Wolverine had lost. A deeper silence than ever followed this announcement, however, that was broken only by the soft, melodious ae of the old hunter whistling, ‘‘Over the ills, Gradually, however, the buzz of voices, the clink of glasses and the shuffling of cards were resumed throughout the room. _ Old Wolverine rose from his seat, and glanc- ing about the room with a drunken stare, looked Ww his ae and then staggered over to where ey sat. “I’m dead broke, boys; say, can’t—hic—you furnish me a few spuds, G’lior?” “Wolverine,” replied the big hunter, in a low, kind tone, ‘‘hav’n’t you been playing and drinking too much?’ “S$ that any of your biisness, G'liar? Say, tell me that—bic—won't you?” A roar of gr burst from the lips of those who heard the old man’s drunken re- nse, “I don’t want to see you make a beast of yourself, Wolverine,” the big hunter continued, unmoved, ‘** Then le’ me have some sand—clear broke— bu’sted—mus’ win—hic—then I’ll pay ye back, by guminey, I will; come, now, shell—hic—out, ole squipeepus.” ‘*]t’s no use arguing with a drunken man,” said Goliah to the boys, as he took a roll of money from an inner pocket. “ Not a bit,” affirmed Wolverine, with a comical smile, as he endeavored, in vain, to and Trimble were to him; and finally, getting | stand quiet. Goliah, Frank and Ed aside, he said: “Thar’s goin’ to be some fun here to-night, - boys; keep yer eves open, for I shouldn't won- der if somebody didn’t go over the bills, ve Old Wolverine two enomination for a bunter latter turned away, he The giant hunter bills of a rather lar to carry, and as said, in a low tone; 17 “* @’liar—hic—if wuss comes to wuss, see that oF dogs git in to help me.” he confusion in the room prevented others than his friends hearing; and as he staggered back to the table where Spencer and Trimble sat talking, in low tones, he exclaimed: ‘** Here’s another fifty, boys—kiver it or fight, for ] mean to win sumthin’ for my ole woman. You know—hic—the Arab promises ’is wife a dowry out o’ what—hic—he can s from the sultan’s caravan when—hic—goin’ to Mecca. Now, that’s me f’r all the world—hic. What I win at cards, I take to the ole woman; that’s her dowry—fact. That’s me. Old Wolverine, over and over—the hills and fur away.” Spencer covered the hunter’s fifty dollars, and won it. All noticed that this loss affected the old man seriously, for he drank two glasses of liquor; and then pulling out another fifty-dol- lar bank bill and a revolver, said, in a grave, husky voice: ‘*Here’s the last ante I’ve got; but I'll put it up, and dare any man to cover it. I: 2 lose, I'll never lose again. I mean business, now, if I never meant it tefore. If I lose that pile, my life goes with it! Do you hear?” He fairly screamed the last words, and the look that settled upon his face never before set upon the face of a gambler in his last moments of despair and hopeless suspense, Trimble pens covered the desperate man’s pile, and a deadly hush fell upon the house as the cards began to shuffle. The look upon Wol- verine’s face, the cold, terrible light in his eyes, and the revolver at his side, were sufficient to have awed a more desperate set of men. Many of them were anxious to see the old hunter lose, for they believed he would end his own life. Spencer was one of them. He not only feared the man, but believed a certain secret would perish with him —the secret of the Darrall papers. But to both those that feared the old man and those that loved him, there came a moment of awful suspense and silent agony. One or two rose from their seats and started toward the table; but Old Wolverine took up his revolver and said: “Set down, every hishunt of ye; if another man dares to move, I 1] kill him!’ All sunk into their seats, half-choking with fear and suspense. Goliah Strong still sat by Ed and Frank, re- ding the gamblers with a strange smile upon is bearded face. The game went on. It was that old-time = sledge, the favorite game of the lum- sermen. Every neck in the house was craned to its ut- most, every eye turned toward the corner, and every ear on the alert for the final result. At length Trimble took the cards to deal. Each stood six points, with the deal in favor of Trimble. Spencer announced the run of the game, and when it became known that the whole result hung upon the next hand, the sus- pense of the spectators became awful, Each man’s heart seemed to rise into bis throat and beat with great, pulsing throbs. Trimble dealt the cards slowly, carefully, for he, too, had become deeply imbued with the suspense of the moment; and yet he would not have sacrificed a point to save the hunter’s life. lu fact he exerted all his wonderful skill in dealing the cards that he might be enabled to furnish the fe ae with a tragedy such as the Five Points had never enjoyed. He knew Wol- verine was in earnest. e had seen more than one man, driven to desperation by whisky and repeated losses at the gambling-table, end all in the destruction of his own life. He could see that deadly resolve settled firm in the old hunt- er’s eye, and in the wild, suicidal expression of the face. Old Wolverine cut the cards with a nervous hand, then Trimble ran them off six apiece, and turned the trump. It was the jack of clubs! Trimble had won the game! The announcement fell like a death-knell upon the ears of the audience. A sound like the far-off muttering of a storm passed over the house. Old Wolverine took up his revolver, cocked it, then rising to his feet, placed the muzzle to his head, and—coolly scratched his ear with the weapon; at the same time he thrust along index finger out toward Goliah Strong, and with a comical leer, exclaimed: ‘**Go-liar Strong, loan me another ante, won’t you—hic—say, won’t you?” “Sold!” exclaimed Sandy Gray, the mail- carrier, who had come in a few minutes pre- vious, A roar of laughter burst from the lips of some of the audience, while muttered oaths, evi- oe of disappointinent, fell from the lips of others. CHAPTER XVII. WOLVERINE GROWS MORE RECKLESS. “Go Liar,” repeated Old Wolverine, with emphasis, removing his revolver from his head, and pointing it at Goliab Strong, ‘do you hear me? Loan me another ante or over the hills you gol” a ai Saga ast —— eee a a
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13 Coliah Strong arose, and advaneing across the floor, placed another bank bill of one buns dred dollars denomination in Wolverine’s hand, saying; ‘ That’s the last dollar I have in the world.” ‘You shell soon havo ker back, G’liar; never mind—hie—ole feller,” replied Wolverine. Then, turning to Spencer, he continued: ‘+ Now, cap’n, if you want to kiver that bill, do so; if not, for- evcr hold your peace.” ‘Tho captain took tho bill and looked it over | carefully, as though he mistrusted it of being a counterfeit; and when satisfied of its genuine- ness, he took ten bills, aggregating a lmmdred | dollars, from his pocket, and covered the old hurter’s ante, Thenthe playing was resumed. O!d Wolve- rino seemed drunker than ever, and handled tho cards as shania his bony fingers were stiff; but, contrary to the expectation of many, he won the game. A second game was played, and Le again camo out victorious, fivo points ahead. A third would have been played had the landlord not called out: “Gentlemen, you'll now put up your eards and come to order. The people roundabouts have all gathered in, and we don’t want to ne- lect the great object for which we have met. ow then, if any of you feel like it, just step up to the bar and crink at my expense; then we’il g to business.” There were very few in the house but what ** felt like it,” and so there was a general rush to the bar, attended with no little confusion. Go- liah Strong, taking advantage of the occasion, walked over to where Wolverine satin a sort of a drunken stupor, and said: ‘* Wolverine, you’re gettin’ pretty drunk.” ‘Am, aml? Well, mebby—hic—you know. Here, Goliar, *s yer money I bor’ed—twent bills, all on the Farmers’ and Mechanics’ Ban of Marion, Olio.” “ Thanks!” said Goliah, in a whisper, and he went back to his seat. The crowd soon, though reluctantly, melted away from the bar, when the house was again called to order by the landlord. Captain Spen- cer was then selected to preside over the meet- ing. and in taking the chair, said: ‘*Gentlemen, I thank you for this honor, and hope I may have your earnesh support in tho great matter before the house. For a year or more, as you all very well, and very sadly know, some man, or some monster I shou'd have said, has been skulking along our rivers, our highways, and around our own bomes, shooting dawn our citizens without cause or provocation; and—’ “ Hic.” suddenly burst from Old Wolverine, so loud that.it sounded above the voiee of the speaker—causing a subdued laugh throughout the room. The old hunter, in his attempt to ap orderly, had assumed a ition both ludicrous and reposing. With his legs stretched out before him, Py head thrown back, mouth open, and eyes half c:osed, he appeared the very picture of drunken stupidity. “The name of the Uuknown Marksman,” con- tinued the chairman, after order had been re- stored, ‘\has,become a terror in these regious, and it is time ib was abated. We have been too excited at times—as we were the day we arrest- ed, Goliah rede: Mapa too careless and negli- gent as soon as. the excitement of the momen’ wears off. But mow we have met, and let cool judgment prevail. Let us organize and bunt the demon down as we would a deadly terocious | beast. or—” ‘ ; eDbr “Hic!” Old Wolverine again put in his drunken period, to the amusement of some of the lumbermen. ‘“T would suggest,” Spencer went on, “that we divide up into parties of from four to five, according to our experience as hunters, scatter | out over the country in some system of order, surround the upper timber, and then close in: the circle upon the game.’ ‘“‘That’s it, cap’n,” broke in Old Wolverine; | “have a grand cirele dance of’t—demon in the center, and all hands around—root-a-tooty -toot, tee-toot-tee toot,” and the old man began pat- ting his footand singing a lively air. ; “Order!” thundered the chairman; ‘if you don't.keep quiet, Wolverine, you'll have to be removed from the house.” “\ Hie,” from the old hunter. The captain continued bis remarks, and final- ly concluded by suggesting : ness for the meeting. is §l tions were unanimously adopted, for all had great faith in Captain Spencer’s ability to command and exe- cute. The first thing done was to appoint the cap- tain leader of all the forces to Goliah Strong, our and five. int ties Ed Mathews and Frank Ballard were placed | along with two of Spencer’s lumbermen—y pleasarit and quiet ort of men; while old Wol- verine was reserved as ajkind of scout, though his friends saw that he was spoken ef with evi- | dent. mistrust, by Spencer and Trimble. ‘The olf-bunter was asleep when his pal alle hie, and so Pees pli tc signed to pels ha if he would accept of the duty. The id fellow started up, rubbed his eyes and an order of busi- | sent against, the enemy. This done, he divided the erowd up | Se Pee, The Gian: Rifleman. a glared around him in a sort of a bewilderment, muttering: **Darned dark’n here; why don’t some one snuff the candle!—I’li do it—stand back thar, Spene’r,” and drawing his revolver, he swung it reeklessly round Hey oard then brought it toa level on the candle burning at Captain Spencer’s side. An involuntary exclamation burst from a score of Jips, and was followed by the ‘‘ ping ” ef the old hunter’s revolver. The candle flick- ered as though struck by a current of air, then it flared up with a broader blaze and clearer light, for the bullet, true to its aim, had cut off the end of the black, charred wick as complete- ly as though it had been done with a pairof snuffers. Every man was startled, and many enraged, y this foolhardy trick of the old hunter; strong and loud were the threats made agaiist him by the Jumbermen and others; but, in the midst of | | | | | taeir exciten:ent, James Trimble drew attention to another object. On the wall beyond the Jamp, and behind Captain Spencer, hung the faded portrait of some oid military herd; and in the very center of the forehead of this picture bad the old hun- ek bullet passed—burying itself in the log be- ind. The discovery created some excitement, and | the name of the Unknown Marksman was whis: pered about the room, “Wolverine,” said Spencer to Trimble, ‘‘is just drunk enough to expose the secret that in- voives the Unknown Marksman in mystery. You see the hole in that portrait is small, and the shot was the best I ever saw. Where’s the drunken man that can snuff a candle across this room as he did? I tel you, Trimbie, there is a wonderful coincidence, or meaning in his bullet striking that portrait as it did.” “You really believe, then, that he isthe Un- known Destroyer?” “What did I tell you before getting him lim, and I'll diz the bullet out of the wall. Af it is a copp.r Lullet, then 1 will know, beyond a single doubt, that he is the Destroyer.” ‘Turning, the captain took ,up a large cheese- knife, and began igging into the pine log after the telltale bullet. any saw what he was do- eg, and suspected its object—awaiting the re- sult with great anxiety and suspense, Tae captain worked away, boring, bewing and chipping the wood sung Ke track of the builet, until the missile was finally reached. “What is it?? asked Trimble, as the bullet finally rolled to the floor. Asif in. answer to his.question, a rifle on the outside of the building, and near the open door, rung out,and Trimble, clutching at bis brow, staggered and almost tell. **My God!” he exclaimed, “‘some devil has shot me! Captain, I am done for.” A long red line, from which the blood was trickling down his face, told wheré the assissin’s Ludlet had_-plowed its Way across the man’s fore- ead. The wildest excitement prevailed. over this at- tempted assassination of ‘Trimble, aud when the builet, which had come sonear being fatal, had removed from the wall and found to be a co bullet, everybody became almost frantic with vengeance and fear. No time was there now to be Jost trifling with Old Wolverine, for it had been settled satistac- torily in :Spencer’s mind that the eldihunter was entirely innocent of the crimes of the Unknown Marksman. Ina very few nivinutes every nan, well-armed, set. out. upon the great bunt for the four excused from ithe ]unton account.of their being United States cfficials. These were Phil Strahl, postmaster, and the three mail-car- riers, Sandy Gray, Gershom Blapd.and Running eer. By midnight the Five Points were deserted. Oid Wolverine Wad resolved to act as an inde- pendent scout, and upon leaving his friends, strong, Ballard and Mathews, he said: “I tell ye what, boys, it come mighty nigh gittin’ hot in thar; if jif hadn’t been fur the holes in the toes of my boots, I'd had to gone cut and empty the whisky outen my Leots a time or two.” ptr came whisky in your boots!” asked rank, “Why, Lord -bless ye, -boy, do you think I drunk all that Jiqnor? No sir-ee, hossfly! J tucked my beard in my shirt-bosom, and.then poured the liquor thro’ the he rd down outside o’ my neck. Youw'll never catch Old Wolverine drinkin’ in sich a place as that—not by a jugful! rest, come on and I'll wait f ite tl rest, come on ar wall jor you 0 r 106 mouth of the North Black river et ‘All right, Wolvenine,” xeplied Goliah, and the old, wolf-hunter took bis departure. An hour after they bad ieft the Points, | Goliah Strong, Frank and Ed managed to se- parate themselves from their other.companions, when the three at once set off up the river. About daylight they joined Old Wo'verine at the point designa } and finally enearaped in a,clump of dense tim- ber about two miles below Spimt Rapids. Here drunk? But look here; you keep your eye on | destroyer. Not covery men eiuher; there were | But, boys, I’m goin’ right up the river: and jist , fellers can git away from\the | ; when the four moved on ! | they remained during the day, and as soon as ' Night sef in, Frank Ballard left the camp and | bent his footsteps in the direction of the Rapids. | All knew what was taking him up there—a | Woman. | CHAPTER XVII. A BLOW IN THE DARK. | An hour’s walking brought Ballard to the foot. of Spirit Rapids. It was then dark, butin | hopes of getting to see Edith Mount, she whom | he had saved from the river, he lingered there , for a long time—so long a time, indéed; that he began to despair of her coming, wlien suddenly | @sott step sounded behind him, and a hand was | laid gently upon his arm. ° “Frank.” “ Edith.” |. And the two stood face to face. Frank lifted her hand to his lips and imprinted a kiss upon it, as had once Secale wont in days gone by. | oe was looking for you 6n the other side,” he | sald, [a a“ I have been waiting for you on this side,” she replied; “I knew when you came, but it'was so dark that I could not distinguish | your features; so 1 remained quiet until I was sure if was you.” ‘‘Oh, Edith! this reminds me of old times. The sound of your sweet voice and the touch of those little bands thrills my heart again with the joy I once felt. Ihave entertained hopes, | since our last meeting, of our being able to ful- | fill the vows we made years ago.” ‘“* That cannot be, Frank, as I told you in the Indian camp the otber night.” ‘“ Why not? Henry is dead; have you learn. ed to love another?’ ‘* No, no, Frank; you alone are the only man Iever loved. But there still is an obstacle be- tween us. I can only Wait and trust in God.” “‘ Tam sure I am ata loss to know what it is, Edith; but I observed that you feared that drunken Car tain Spencer, the other night—do you know him?’ ‘To see him in such a drunken fit—or any man-—-would fill one’s soul with fear,” she re- plied. ‘*Oh, I was so afraid you would be kill- ed. Had Heaven not interfered in your behalf and caused the Unknown Marksman to shoot that Canadian, the latter would have shot you without a doubt.” ‘That Unknown Marksman is a terrible avenger, Keith,” Frank said, gazing down ints hereyes, ‘‘d should think you would live in mortal dread of him here in this séciuded c ace. ‘* Not at all; for our home is inaccessible to strangers geen have doubtless Observed,” and Edith smiled. “ It is. a question of great interest to me how you cross those rapids.” ‘**T will tell you, having obtained brother’s consent to do so: there is a harrow wire bridge stretched from shore to shore and resting on rocks at every few yards. It lies just under the surface of the water, and wis placed there lest summer when the August drouth nearly re) oked our rivers dry.” ‘* Ab! this is the secret of the Spirit Rapids!” ‘* Overhead,” continued Edith, “two wire | Cables are stretched from shore to shore, and by these we balance ourseives while crossing the hidden footbridge. We are all prcvided with ,ossamer, rubber suits to pretect our feet and odies Guring the passages. Here, I brought you a suit, expecting you, as per agreement, I want you to cross over with me, s it is now very dark, I will go ahead, and when I am across I will give the signal by striking on one: of the balance wires. Then you can follow. It will be dangerous for two.of us to go across at. _ once, for the bridge is drawn very taut, and has _ already great pressure against it.” | As she concluded, Edith advanced to the wa- ter’s edge through a ¢lump of derise bushes, fol- lowed y Frank. Having shown bim how to _ find the bridge, and the two wire hand-railings she stepped into the agitated waters and started across the stream. With bated breath Frank watched her half- across the stream; then he went back wheré it was more qpen and donned the rubber suit, pre- paratory to starting over aiter her. He had vinself in readiness in a few moments, and wes awaiting Fdith’s signal when he was suddenly stantled by the rush of feet behind him: but before he had time to speak or act,:he received aheavy blow upon the head that felled him, unconscious, to the earth. ‘Then the assassin that beathim down stripred the ruober coat and leagings from bis person and. donned them himself, Then having dragged the hody of the young bee-hunter to the nver , and thrown it, as be supposed, into the water, _ he wiped the perspiration from bis brow, utter- | ed an oath significant of satisfaction. then turn- | ed and walked back to the spot where he had struck the youth down. A moment later he _ heard the blows of a stick strumming along the wire hand-railing described by Edith, and push- in his way thro the brush to the water's ge, the villain found the hidden bridge and rted slowly across the river, — woke eh, Eaith, waiting on the aepenhe shore fcr the coming of her lover, laughed softly to berselj ‘
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The Giant Rifleman. — 19 when she saw him, as she believed, approach- ing through the tossing waters, and jickin his way with the extreme caution of a blin man. The man’s head and face was enveloped in the hood of the waterproof he wore; conse- quently the woman was unable to detect tho startling fact that it was not Frank Ballard; and as soon as he landed, she took his arm, and | they started up the steep hill, neither speaking | during the ascent. : When they had gained the summit of the isl- and they stopped to rest. Deep and dense were the shadows of the scrubby sycamores that covered the island, and rough and rugged the surface of the ground. ; - “Our cabin,” Edith now said, with an air of relief, ‘‘ is in a deep depression in the center of the island, and that is why it cannot bo seen from shore.” “Indeed,” said tho man in an undertone, scarcely audible. ; Without suspecting any thing, she led the way down a steep hill toward the cabin, and when near the edge of the plateau, something bounded across their path, causing the man to start violently. “It was a deer, Frank,” sho said, laughing, “a tame deer. There were three on the island, but the one we thought the most about. got away. It was as tame as a lamb, and brother’s little girl, Dolly, had put tassels in his ears; and one day—the day it got away—she tied a ribbon tne | its neck to which was attached a qld locket. Why, Frank, you are shivering. I’m afraid crossing the river made you nervous.” ‘Tm chilly,” the man replied in a chattering ne, “‘ Well, we will soon be at the house, though I see brother has come home—at least I see a light in the cabin. If you will please be so kind as to wait here, Frank, until I run in and ap- rise brother of your coming, I will be obliged you. I know you will be welcome, but these men folks are rather queer fellows.” He stopped without any words. Edith with- drew her arm from his, and ran on into the cabin. The moment she was gone, the man threw back the hood from his head, and on tip-toe ad- vanced to the window of the cabin, and peered in, He saw a little girl, seated at one side of the house, playing with a kitten; while nearer to the window was a man before a blazing fire- lace or forge, that was being fanned by a small Cr haltves. In the fire was _a_ crucible, and in the hand of the man before the fire were a pair of bullet-molds. The man’s face was covered by a sort of leather visor, evident- ly to protect it from the glare of the roaring danas and the villain at the window felt a pang of disappointment when he saw the man’s face was masked. He kept his watch, however, at the window, and when Edith entered he saw the man look up and speak. A few words passed between them, then the man removed his cruci- ble from the fire and put it away, aloug with his mold and bellows. This done, he adjusted his visor, and as he did so he pappened i glance toward the window, and star of horror. “M God, Edith! look there! It is the faco of—oi— ‘““Who, brother?’ cried Edith, for the face was withdrawn before she could catch a glimpse of it. But without walling, for an answer, Edith ran out of the cabin, and burried toward the cloak- ed figure awaiting her. When within a few paces of the villain, he thrust out bis hand in which was a pistol, and fired, point-blank, at her. “i Oh, Frank! Frank!” cried the woman, start- ing back and sinking to the earth, ‘‘you have illed me? With a wild, demoniac laugh, the murderer turned upon his heel and fled toward the hidden bridge at the foot of the rapids. CHAPTER XIX. ‘“ RICHARD HIMSELF AGAIN.” Tue blow that felled Frank Lallard to the earth was not a fatal one. The rubber hood drawn over his head had saved his lie, no doubt; for it broke the force of the blow and he was only stunned. But when he had recovered, it was with a violent pain in the head, and a thousand horrors flitting through his brain. He | he had been lying partially in the alge and, in fack, was seated in the water when he recovered consciousness. How he had come there he knew no more than if he had never exis e could see the moonlight falling on the river. ck with acry | | | that the turkey was the most delicious game he ted until that moment. It was | bh k where he lay, but_out before him | ie Tate the igh | contained some profound problem; but it was ie With an almost dizzy brain he endeavored to | study out his situation. Vague glimpses of the st flitted aud flashed in painful mockery be- ‘ore his mental vision; but, aided by the roar of the rapids, he finally succeeded in gathering the links of his shattered memory. the past, u Ceara ed bait open bis ind, caus violent, ow u . ree start with fear and borror. His first | the bushes. | and then attempted to kill her.” n iug ber name; but there wes no answer. He Frank, who lay with his bead partially covered glanced up at tke moon, and secivg the night with bis hat, slyly watched the giant hunter. was far advanced kis heart sunk within his | He could notsleep, for he thought the two bun- breast. When ke discovered that bis rubber | ters were acting rather queerly- He did not suit kad been taken from him, grave fears took | know what to make of their conduct; and, possession of his minc; for something of the real | feigning sleep, determined to watch their move- truth flashed through his perturbed mind. Hoe | ments. became sorely anxious to hear from Edith, and Goliah pondered and grimaced over the bad resolved to cross over to the island just as | paper for houry, and would have probally con- he was, when a voice cried out: tinued so all night, had Old Wolverine not re- ‘“‘ Stand!” turned. Frank, standing bolt upright, turned his face “Make we dpe: out yit, Gliar?” the wolf- toward the unknown, who stood concealed in | hunter asked, as he leaned his gun egainst a tree and removed his accouterments. “ Not a thing,” Goliah replied, with a frown that denoted his vexation: ‘‘it is just like con- fusion, with footing enough to Jeacd one on dcep- er and deeper into its tangled mazes.” ** Hav’n’t you showed it to the boys, yit?” “No; I thought I would work on it to-night, | and then; if 1 couldn't figure it out, I wculd ‘‘ Whom do you mean; Eaith Mount?’ asked | turn it over to them,” replicd Goliah. “Who are you?” the voice again demanded. | ‘‘Trank Ballard,” was the answer. ‘‘ Murderer!” hissed the unseen. A chill erept through Frank’s heart. “T am not a murderer,” he replied, ‘*You betrayed the confidence of my sister, Frank. | “They might fetch it, G’liar,” replied Wol- ‘*Yes,” wasthereply. _ | verine; ‘‘for I tell ye them boys are lung- “ You are mistaken,” replied Frank, speaking headed.” with the candor of innocence; ‘I was going to | the island with Edith when some devil beat me | Goliah. down and having stripped off my cloak flung; Wondering what secret existed between the me into the1iver. And there have I lainfor—) hunters, in which he was soon to become a well, I can’t tell you how long. I recovered , confidant, Frank Ballard weit to sleep, and but a few moments ago. This, sir, is the God’s | slept soundly until all were awakened the next | truth; and I have a welt across my head big ies _morving ty the startling report of a rifle in a man’s arm to bear wiiness to what I say. you believe what 1 tell you?” “T believe ov. sir; your story corresponds exactly with Edith’s supposition; and I came over here to hunt for your dead body,” replied the brother. ‘‘ Then Edith is not dead?” “No; but she isseverely wounded. The de- mon that came to the island in your place shot her,” “Can I see her?” Frank asked. ‘‘Not to-night; she must rest. When she learns that yuu are alive she'll rest easier. At first we thought you had done the shooting; but a calm, second thought convinced her to the camp. Springing to their feet, they saw Old Wolve- rine standing at one side, with his rifle in hand, while down in the hollow, about seventy paces away, a deer lay struggling in its death throes. “We'll have roasted venison for Lreakfast,” announced the bunter. “And when we have treakfasted, boys,” said Goliah, addressing Frank and Ed, “I have a puzzle, or problem, that 1 want you to help me work out,” ““What kind of a problem?” asked Ed. ‘©A financial probiem—one worth a fortune to your young friend, Nathan Darrall.” contrary.” CHAPTER XX. Frank groaned in spirit, turned and sat CAPTAIN SPENCER GETS A ‘‘ WELT.” down. ON the fourth nigbt after the meeting at the ‘* Good-evening, Mr. Ballard,” said the speak- | Five Points, four men emerged from the sla- er in the shadows; then he advanced to the | dows of the woods,and paused on the river water’s edge and was soon moving across the | bank opposite Castle Island. They were all well wire-bridge toward Castle Island. | armed, which was evidence of their being upon Frank arose, bathed kis aching head, and | the trail of thedread Unknown Mark:man. then started back to camp where he arrived | One of them was Randolph Spencer; anotter about an hour before daybreak. His friends, | James Trimble; the other two were lumLer- who had passed over a restless night in conse- | men. : quence of his prolonged absence, were sur-| ‘‘ Right here,” the captain seid, as he parsed prised by the look of pain upon his face; and | near the foot of the rapids, ‘‘is that concealed at once inquired after the cause, bridge of which I vas telling you. You will all Frank sat down and told them all about his | have touse extreme care in cressing, for cnly night’s adventures, sennealing nothing of the | onecan crossatatime. A misstep will te your mysteries of Spirit Rapids and Castle Island. death-warrant,” “Well, by the witches of Salem!” exclaimed | _ “ vary well, Cap., you go ahead,” said Trimble. Old Wolverine, “did you ever dream of such things?’ Spencer explored along the bank until he had 5 oe Strong seemed wonderfully surprised | found the hidden bridge, then he reached up y the young ee-hunter’s story; and many | and caught hold of the balance-wires, and began were the expressions of surprise that passed be- | picking bis way across the dizzy waters, slowly, tween him and Old Wolverine in regard to the | cautiously. matter. Owing to the darkness of the night, and the Daylight at length came, and with the first | rising mist, he was soon lost from sight; but s of light, Wolverine shouldered his gun | when be arrived on the cpposite side, he tele- and set off in search of game for breakfast. In | graphed the fact to his friends by striking upon the course of an hour he returned with two fat | one of the wires, the end of which was fastened oung wild-turkeys, which he at once dressed | toa tree. n true hunter style, and arranged beforea fire | Trimble was the next to cross; then followed to roast. the two lumbermen, and when they were all Meanwhile Goliah Strong aud the bec-hun- | together on the island, the ca} tain led the way ters had gone down toa little purling stream | to the summit of the hill, and paused to give hard by and made a thorough ablution, which | further orders. strengthened their bodies, invigorated their ‘Here we are, boys, on Castle Island,” he blood, and sharpened their appetites. exclaimed. When they returned tocamp the turkeys were | “So I perceive,” replied Trimble, “and from done to a crisp brown, and ready to be served. | the familiar way in which you saunter abcut, All ate with avidity—particularly Frank, who | one would think you had been here before, declared he was never so hungry in his life, and | captain.” “Well, what next?” asked one of the Jumber- : men, very impatiently. “1 want to keep mov- After their meal they made no move toward | ing, now that I’m started.” continuing their journey. For some reason or ‘“*Tke catin stands ina deep sink or hollow other, Goliah Strong and Old Wolverine con- | inthe very center of the island,” replied Spen- cluded they had better remain there in camp a | cer; “‘and 1 would suggest that we go down few days. They gave no reason for tbis inac- | and reconnoiter around.” tivity; and since the bee-hunters were in no The captain led the way down the hill to- ways concerned about the Unknown Marksman, | ward the lonely hut of the mysterious people. they did not insist on any explanaticn. As it became unfolded from the cover cf the As the day advanced Wolverine again took | sycamores, a light wes seen shining from the had ever tasted. his rifle and dogs and went in searchof game. | window. This told them that the occupants Goliah Strong seated himself at the foot of a | were at bome. tree and taking a slip of paper from an inner The four advanced to within twenty peces ket busied himself for more than two hours | of the door, then stopped under some trees tu coking over it, Ed and Frank noticed that he | consult, studied it with contracted brows, as though it ‘* What now, captain?” asked Trimble. t us creep up as close 8s we can, then with a look of disappointment that he finally dash in upon them with drawn weapons,” re- folded the paper and carefully replaced it in his , plied Spencer, speaking in a quick, nervous Pothas the d diniid nasininn |. Lead’ the eons Copeats Bandoiph us ay wore away and n again se " e@ wa i olph,” said in, Bd and Frank sid’ down fo rests old | Trimble. Meco rg: Wolverine Jeft camp and went scouting in the The m moved forward, revolver in direction of Spirit Rapids. GoliahS alone | hand, when about ten feet from the door, seated by the camp-fire, and when as- | he gave a yell and bounded into the cabin fol- sured that his companions were asleep he took | lowed by his companions. But, pri ‘leught was of Edith; and he started up call- out that same paper and again began its study. ' disappointment were all that puss: Chien; me ~ oor gg Fe eee a
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20 not a Jiving soul, except themselves, was in the cabin. A smoldering fire on the hearth lit up the room. This must havo been fed within the past hour, but wkero were the bands that | cid it? As the intruders gazed about the room, they | became deeply impressed by tho sence and cir of mystery that scemed to pervade tho place. Tho kouse was furnished with all the com- forts of a berder home. The neatness and handiwork of woman wero upon every side. “They must have got wind cf our coming ard fled.” said Trimble, and his voice sounded hellow and strange to his companions. ‘* lItseems to me there’s been a funeral ’bous | here recently,” remarked Spencer, with a look that implied more than his words; ‘‘ bus lct’s to work and search every hole and corner in this house and on the island.” All seemed anxious enough to obey, and ina fow minutes the house had been thoroughly rearched; but nothing could bo found of the inbabitarts of the place. Daylight found them stiJl hunting; but in vain. Tbe place was ceserted by all savo two or three tame deer and a troop of bright-eyed squirre s that frisked about uneasily. “They are gone,” Spencer finally admitted; ‘but they may return; and so I am going to remain here and take them by surprise.” “Yowll not catch them napping, Cap,” de- | meaning. clared Trimble; ‘‘it is my opinion that the | inhabitants of this island, whoever they may | be, have friends among us who keep them | posted.” “TI believe that, Jim; ether, I can't help suspecting Old Wolverine. Ho acted queer tho other night. Don’t you think so?” “ Not any more so than that Goliah Strong.” “Well, time will tell; if you will remain | with me, we will watch hero for the return of tho folks. I’m satisfied that it’s tho haunt of tho Unknown Marksman, from what I told cu. Trimblo volunteered to remain with the captain; and so the two lumbermen at once tock their departure for the mainland. Tho two partners in rascality remained on the island nearly the whole day, waiting in vain for the return cf the inhabitants. Once Tiim'loe noticed Lis companion walking about searching the ground in a manner that appeal- ed to his curiosity, and so ho asked: “* What are you hunting, Cap?’ “Oh, [ was just looking for a fresh mound— in other words, a grave,” replica Spencer. “A crave?’ exclaimed Trimble; ** why should | db ’ you expect to find a grave here?” *T didn’t know’ but what some of the folks had gone ‘over the hills,’ as Wolverine says, | g ? y ’ and that the others had deserted the island.” Exactly,” responded Trimble, and he joined in the searca. As the hours wore on the two finally ascend- ed the bights overlooking the river, and ran their cyes carefully along the wooded shores beyond. While gazing across the rapids, Trimble saw a puff of smoke burst from tlio bishes on the oppesite s.ore: and at the samo instant Captain Spencer stuggered and almost fell; while the crack of a rifle rung cut clear and distinct above the roar of the rv pids. _A bullet had just grazed the forehead of the captain, raising a livid welt from which the blood seemed ready to burst. Following up the course of the bullet, Trim- ble found where it had struck a tree, and ina | few minutes he dug it out with the point of his | knife. It was a copper bullet! This discovery sent a chill to Spencer’s heart. ‘* By heavens, captain! you, too, have got a welt across the head from the Unknown Marks- | man. Weare either proof against his accursed copper bullets, or else he is toying with us as a cat plays with a mouse. Ah, look! do you see that figure gliding among the trees over yon- der? *Tis he—the Unknown Marksman!” CHAPTER XXI. LOVE AND JEALOUSY. Nattic DaRRALL remained at the home of the old cranberry-picker several days; and in this time he fully recovered from his ir juries under the kind and loving treatment of Ida Zane and her gentle-hearted mother. On the sixth day after his advent to their secluded home, he made preparations to leave and re- join his friends. He disliked to inflics himself upon the good people, for ho saw that they were very poor. Yet, out of the generosity of their heurts, they scemed ready and willing to sacrifice their own comfort that their guest might be provided for; and so Nattie felt loth to accept of such self-sacrifice in his behalf, since he had but little money to pay them; = even this they refused when he offered it to em. When he was about ready to_Jeave the cabin Ida approached bim with a handsome little sporting rifle and accouterments, and said: ‘Nattie, I am not going to give you this rifle, but loan it to you, seeing you have none. No one should go unarmed in the woods nowa- and somshow or | The Giant Rifleman. 4 days. Besides,” and a blush stole over her pretty face, ‘you will have tv come back here to return it to me.” *€ Couldn’t I send it back?” he asked. “No, sir,” she replied, and a smile wreathed her lips. ‘‘I will receive it from no one but you.” “Then I will accept of your proffered loan for the sake of coming back; for the fact of it is, Ida, I hate to go away. Since my advent here, a great change has come over my happi- ness and peace ot heart; and the Blue Marsh, and the people dwelling here, will ever stand foremost in my memory. You may think me very foolish, Ida, for saying sco, but since | came here I have learned to love, and you are the object of that love.” Ida’s head drooped and a crimson flush over- spread her face. Nathau’s words had fallen upon her ears jike the sweet inspiration of a song. Her thoughts ran back over the past. She recalled her last meeting with Speneer, and | his definition of love; then she looked into her | young heart and a:ked herself whether or nct she loved Nathan Darrall; but whatever an- | swer she found there, she made no reply to Na- than’s impassioned words. Nathan had been encouraged in his confession of love by her remarks concerning the gun; and her silence now was to him full of the happiest Instinct, rendered acute by love, told him this. Havir g bidden the old f Iks good-by, Nathan took his departure, accompanied by Ida, who was to take him across the creek in her boat. They walked ieisurely dewn the green island slope to the creek, Jaunched the boat and cm- barked. Nathan took the pacdle, and seating himself by Iva on the middle seat, paddied out into the center of the stream, and then let the boat drift at the will of the current. ‘* }da,” he then said, ‘I do wish I lived near “Tam sure it is not a very romantic place,” she said, her eyes looking up into his and beam- ing with joy. “No: but those around it make it attractive to me—you in particular, lda. To youl owe my life; you have won my heart, and ob, if my love could only be reciprocated, then could I go away an return with a light footstep and hap- mind, “Nathan, you will ever be welcomed at our humble home,” the maiden replied. “* As a friend?” ‘* As a dear friend.” “Can I rever call you by any more endear- ing name, Ida? Could 1 not some day have the privilege of calling you my littie wife” Ida’s eyes drooped shyly, and her lips quiver- ed as she replied: ‘* Nattie, 5 do love you, but I could never think of leaving my mother and grandpapa.” ‘“You never shall, Ida!” he exclaimed, in a passion of love, drawing her to his side and im- printing a kiss upon her brow, ‘it is enough for me to know that you love me. I can wait, for lam but a boy yet. Some day, perhaps, our love and our lives can be fcrever sealed.” Ida lifted her eyes and planced away toward the forest as if looking into the future—to that blisstul day. But the smile of infinite glory that lit up her lovely, childlike face faded overshadow her young heart, settled upon her brow wien she caught sight cf Captain Spencer coming up the creck. ‘Do not build up vour future hopes on that, Nattie,” she responded, “for they may be blasted. My mother and grandfather wish me to marry Captain Randolph Speucer.” A sigh that almost deepened into a groan es- caped Nattie’s lips. ‘At first thev discouraged Mr. Spencer’s suit,” Ida continued; * but he is rich and prom- ised them a home of plenty; and as they are | growing old, and we are very peor, would it be right for me to disobey them, Nathan?’ ‘Ida, this is terrible news to me—a hard question for me to answer conscientiously; for | while itis your duty to otey your parents, it seems cruel in them to inflict a life of misery on | their child by baving’ her marry Randolph | Spencer, who [ bave always heard is a bad man. Talk with your people, Ida, and perhaps | they will think better of your happiness. Tem | a poor toy, with a widowed mother depending upon me for sustenance; but I am not oy willing to work for you, but fir them also. Tell the Blue Marsh.” away, and a cloud, whose darkness seemed to / watched the manly form of her boy lover re- ceding in the distance; and a mental] abstrac- tion settled over her mind. She had forgotten that she had seen the form of Captain Spencer some distance down the creek, until startled from her reverie by the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up, she saw Captain Spen- cer standing on the bank of the creek, with ons foot on the prow of the boas. ‘*Good-morning, Miss Zane!” he said, rather sarcastically, as. he unceremoniously stepped into the canoe and seated himself; I hope I find you well; I see you are looking very happy.” “Quite happy, indeed,” she answered, a little disturbed by his rudeness of manner. ““T should think so,” he continued, with a frown, ‘when you can ride out with a young adventurer like the one that just left you, and have him kissing you at every turn.” “Captain Spencer,” she said, a little indig- nantly, “Nathan Darrall is no adventurer—he is a gentleman.” “ Admitting this to be the truth, what right have you—my betrothed wife—to allow other men such liberties as he took with you?” “JT Jovy» Nathan Darrall!” sbe replied, her eyes flashing defiantly, and Ler lip curling with scorn. ‘*Love!” he sneered, cut to the quick by her reply; “‘ well indced! this is a singular case; but Yin of the opinion that Jove will not go where sent this time. I shall now insist on you or your mother fixing the day for our marriage.” “Mother may, but Iwill never !” “Whew! that love of yours for a beggar boy is souring your temper, my little dove; but then we'll doctor that when you become the queen of Castle Spencer. We will now return to the cabin aud have your mother arrange matters at once,” and so saying, he took up the paddle and pushed off from shore, and then turned up the stream—the dark cloud of jeal- ousy pie’ upon his brow—the brow upon which still blazed the livid track of the Un- known Marksman’s bullet. CHAPTER XXII, RUN DOWN. THE search for the Unknown Marksman went on day after day without any decided result, The great circle of hunters had closed in, spread out, and closed in again; but nothing could be found of the avenger save now and then a vic- tim. Many believed, not only from the deser- tion of Castle Island, but the manner in which the enemy eluded them, that the destroyer had been warned of the general hunt being made for him, and thereby enabled to dodge the bun- ters. Men, however, were stationed to watch the island so that if any of its mysterious in- habitants cid return they might be captvred, and inquiry made into their secluded life. After leaving the island, Captain Spencer and his friend Trimble were joined by four Inaber- men; and together the six continued the search. They bad penetrated to the heart of the great forest between the Five Points and Alleghan, when the report of a rifle came rebounding through the woods. Believing that it might have Leen fired by ‘he ol ject of their search, the men began a careful ieconnoissance of the woods in the direction whence the sound came. They had not gone far when they discovered the figure of a man seated on a log by the road- side, bis head cown and bis hands aj parently cmployed in whittling. The shadows were so dese that they could not recognize the form, though the general outlines appeared to be those S an Indi:n; or of a man dressed as an In- ian, Captain Spencer removed his boots and ceat, and then with a revolver in his hand, he care- fully moved toward the unknown. He placed a large tree between bim and the man, while bis companions covered bim with their rifles. When the captain reached the tree he was not over twenty paces fron: the man on the log, end after he bad rested a mcment, he peered cauticusly around the cak and discovered that the figure wasthat cf an Indian, tive enough. In one hand he held a knife, and in tle othera large leaden tullet, et which ke was careles ly whittling, while his mind was, apparently, fixed upcen son etbing else. A cloud ct ¢ See ment sweyt over Spen cer’s face when Le recognized the Irdian as tunning Deer, the Alleghan mpil-carrier, who them of our love, and the misery our separation | bad stopped by the way to rest, ard eat a lunch will entail upon cur lives. I know your mother | —remnants of which were on the log at his is too »oble and generous-hearted to insist upon a life of misery for her child. Jn a day or two | I will come back—yea, I will return every day, | Ida, umil I know it is useless ior me to come again.” - By this time the boat had drifted some dis- tance down the creek, and so, dipping the pad- dle, Nattie sent the craft ashore. As he rose to depart, be took Ida’s hand in bis, and, stooping, | imprinted a kiss upon her lips; then tearing | himself away and leaping ashore, he bid her adieu, and turning, walked rapidly away, his young heart in a tumult of joy and fear com- ed, Tears came into the maiden’s eyes as she side. Stepping from tehind the tree, Spencer ap- ploeched the mail-cerrier, saying: “Teame devilish nigh killins you, Running Deer, thinking you were the Urkuown Marks- man. “Then I am between two cangers—the Un- known Marksman and his pursuers,” replied “ Chippewa, putting away his knife and bul- et. “ Hav’n’t seen anything of the destroyer?” asked Captain Randolph. ; Nothing,” replied the mail-carrier. The rest of Spencer’s companions came tor. ward; and after a few minutes’ conversation
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The Giant Rifleman. 21 Running Deer shouldered his rifle, slung bis mail-sack under his a m, and trudged away on his journey to Alleghan. 23 * Spencer and his men set off in the direction of the Blue Marsh; and when a couple of miles from that point, they killed a wild turkey and several squirrels and stopped to prepare them for supper, although it wanted two or three hours until supper-time. While his compan- ions were engaged in dressing and Se the game, Captain Spencer concluded to make a flying visit over to the cabin of old Cran- berry. Before ho left, however, it was under- stood that they wero to remain there in camp until morning. The captain had not been gone more than an hour when the sbarp report of a rifle burst through the woods, and one of the lumbermen, a halt-breed Indian, named Girsch, fell dead. That the Unknown Marksman had dealt the fatal blow, Trimble and his companions had not a single doubt, though they did not take time to examine tho body; but, seizing their rifles on tho instaat, they charged iuto the woods in tho direction whence the report came, By this time the shadows were deepening in the woods, and objects were rendered some- what indistinct; still, the men had gone buta short way when they saw the figure of a man fleeing before them. In his hand the fugitive carried a rifle, and that the pursuers had at last got sight of the terrible avenger they had not a single doubt; and, inspired by the spirit of vengeance, and the thoughts of being the successiul man-hunters, they fairly doubled apon the foe at every bound. Not once did they permit him to escape from sight, and in hopes ot bringing him down or to a stand, they kept up a running fire upon him until their weapons were all emptied; but none of the random shots took effect, and the chase continued. On oobge the twilight shadows they sped, and when they saw the fugitive look- ing back over his shoulder like a wounded buck, they knew that he was nearly exhausted. This encouraged the pursuers, and at length Trimble called out: ‘* Halt, demon, or I’ll fire!” The demon stopped and sunk half-exhausted to the ground. With a yell of demoniac triumph the lumber- men rushed upon him. “* At last! at last, the fiend is secured!” gasped Trimble, nearly out of breath. “Easy, gentlemen, I implore you,” begged the fugitive, whom they found to be a handsome lad—a mere boy in years. “Vd say easy, I would,” yelled a lumber- man. “Gentlemen,” pleaded the youth, ‘‘there is a mistake here, I assure you. t me explain.” “Hal ha! ha!” roared Trimble; ‘“‘hear the wretch, will you? By heavens, we’ll explain the Tse to you, you young fiend incar- nate “Weld ought to draw and quarter him on this very spot,” declared a lumberman. “Gentlemen,” began the captive, but a blow from ae of the infuriated men cut short his speech. ‘*Look here at this rifle,” cried Trimble pioking up the lad’s gun; “‘a small bore—just he size exactly. Oh, Jehovah! I’m itching to bounce him!” ‘Oh, there’s no doubt of this cringing d being the bloodthirsty wretch. Drag him back to camp and let’s torture a confession out of him on burning coals. Lay hold of him, boys —don’t be afraid. He’s only a human—a very frail one at that. Hustle the little vampire ng. They ruthlessly seized him by the limbs and half carried and half dragged him back toward camp, his appeals for mercy being treated with blows and derision of the most brutal kind. When they reached camp they tied him up to the limb of a tree by the thumbs; and then rested from the labers of the chase, which had well-nigh exhausted them. Meanwhile, the regarded the slight form of their prisoner wit a mingled expression of surprise and triumph. They were surprised, for it seemed impossible that one so young, so honest and innocent in looks, could be guilty of such horrible deeds as he had committed. : Presently Trimble arose, and stepping up to the prisoner, looked him squarely in the face, then said: “ Youn r, it seems to me that I have seen somebody that you resemble: would you object | to telli ur name? ? Not at all. sir,” replied the lad, in a firm, manly tone; ‘I am not ashamed of my name: tt is Nathan Durrall.” CHAPTER XXIII. GOLIAH TELLS ED AND FRANK A SECRET. Arter breakfasting on roast venison pre-- 1 by Old Wolverine, Goliah Strong turned to Frank Ballard and Ed Matthews, and said: * Now, boys, I’m goin cret; and to begi that I am not a hunter by profession, ‘yom ete: ell me a rageal-hunter.” to let you into a se- might as well tell you | “ Ay!” exclaimed Frank; ‘‘ you are, as we | and turning the paper around he read the ud have mistrusted, a detective.” ‘* Well, admitting such to be the case, I will tell you now why I have manifested such an interest in you bee-hunters: it is on account of Nattie Darrall. One year ago this very month I was after some men for forgery; and | suspicion being fixed upon Captain Spencer, I managed to board a raft of logs, one dark night, with which Spencer was on his way to South Haven. As it happened—and to my benefit—some one else, who [I have since learned was the Unknown Marksman, was aboard the raft at the same time, giving the captain considerable trouble. While he was out of the tent, plunging around with his men, I stepped in and Jaid a paper and pencil on the table, and when the captain came in, I thrust my revolver through the side of the tent from the outside, and compelled him to write cer- tain words, sigu his name, and then pass me the paper. My object was to obtain a speci- men of his handwriting to be compared with that of the forged papers. “Well, that night their raft was grounded, and they were compelled to lay up until late | the next day, when they again got afloat. I remained along the shore under cover of the woods, for I was determined to see the captain through to South Haven. About dark, or a little after, on the following night, who should come up the river to meet them but Mr. James Trimble and two other men, I at once came to the conclusion thut it would pay me to board that raft again; and I did so—a pitchy darkness aiding me in my movements. Creep- ing to the rear of the raftsmen’s tent, what was my surprise to hear them talking about | some notes and a mortgage that they had given to Nattie Darrall’s father.” ‘‘ Ab, indeed!” exclaimed Frank, somewhat excited. . ‘‘T goon learned,” continued the big detec- tive, ‘that they had employed a man named Thomas Thoms to rob Mr. Darrall of the pa- pers in order to cheat him out of the money.” “Great mercy! I never believed Spencer was such a villain as that,” said Ed Mathews. ‘‘Ho! ho!” chuckled Old Wolverine; ‘it’s ’eause you don’t know him, then; but go ahead, G'liar.” ‘““Well, I soon discovered that Thomas Thoms succeeded in stealing the papers, but instead of destroying them, or delivering them up to his employers, he went off and buried them. So the matter rested, and time drifted on. At last Thomas Thoms was apprehended for some other crime, and sentenced to be hung. The rascal thought he couldn’t die easy without making a confession of his sins in stealing the papers, though, true to his em- pavers in one sense of the word, till the last, e did not confess their part of the deed, nor implicate them in any way. It was from their own lips that 1 learned of their meanness. Before dying, Thomas Thoms drew up a sort ofa map of the country, including a portion of the three Black rivers, and above and below this map he wrote an explanation, telling where the hidden papers could be found. This document he intrusted to an ignorant half- | breed, who was to deliver it to Nathan Dar- ,rall or his mother; but Trimble happening to | meet him, suspected something, and got the | aper from the ignoramus.” amen all hopes are gone,” said Frank, re- | gretfully. | ent Wait till I get through; it appears that the half-breed, ignorant of the value of the paper, took the liberty to tear a strip off sel ane thereby destroying over half of the reading, so that, after a year’s studying, I have been un- able to make out where the papers are buried.” ‘* Ah! then you have the rr?” “ Yes; while Trimble and pencer sat in the tent, talking the matter over, they concluded to consign it to the flames: and just as the cap- tain reached forward toward tbe candle burn- ing on the table before him, I thrust my arm into the tent, and snatching the paper from his fingers, made good my escape with the docu- ment; and, to this day, he knows not who did the rash act.” _ An exclamation burst from the bee-hunters’ lips; while Old Wolverine chuckled with silent laughter. — ‘“‘Here is the paper itself,” said Goliah, pro- ducing that strange, unintelligible document, which we have heretofore spread before the reader. | Frank took the paper, and together he and Ed looked it over; Gocgh they could tell no more, by the writing and map upon it, of the lace of the buried papers, than though it had nm a fragment of Greek manuscript. ‘‘ Here.” said Frank, *‘is a portion of the Middle Black river, and the confluence and full length of the North and South rivers. These dots along here, I presume, are intended _to represent the timber. Here is the great | bend between the mouth of the two main _ branches, and—” ‘*'Yes,” added Ed, ‘and we're encamped right in that very bend.” ‘Lets.eo what it reads,” ecntinucd Prank, s | Now an | in deep, mental Jabor. broken lines alo But they could make no sense out of it. PSit d¢ can supply the missing words there, boys, Nathan Darrall will be worth forty-five thousand dollars, and interest on the same for a great many years,” said Golian Strong. “T will do my mightiest,” said Frank. ‘Heavens! wouldn’t I like to find those papers and be the first to break the news to Nattie and his mother? I’ just keep this, Goliah, and look over it.” Both Frank and Ed were greatly excited over the paper; they could not have betrayed more interest in Lehalf of a brother than in Nattie Darrall; and they declared their inten- tion of supplying the missing words if such a wre were possible. All day the boys worked over the puzzle. then one, or both of them, were pacing to and fro beneath the trees absorbed But night again set in, and the secret of the torn paper remained unsolved. “Tl not giveit up yet,” said Frank, as he handed the document back to Goliah; ‘ ll try and dream it out to-night.” Thus the matter was permitted to drop for the time being; and shortly after darkness set in the four broke camp and moved away in | the direction of the Blue Marsh, intending to call at Old Cranberry’s cabin the next morn- ing to inquire after the health of Nattie. They were moving along about two miles | from the Marsh, conversing ou most any topic “4 that presented itself, when they suddenly gauges the sound of wild, excited voices. Looking in the direction whence it emanated they discovered the glowing reflections of a camp-fire against the overhanging foliage, not over twenty rods away. atisfied that it was the camp or bivouac of some of the | avenger-hunters, the four turned their foot- steps in thac direction. CHAPTER XXIV. THE WRONG MAN AGAIN. ‘““NaTHan DARRALL,” repeated Jemes Trim- | ble, with a nervous start, when the helpless bee-hunter had made known his name. an Darrall; I don’t know but what I oken he- youn ‘Na have heard, incidentally, the name | fore; but, be that as it may, do you know, Na- | than, that_you are likely to never see another | sunrise? Do you know that you areina fair wey to be drawn and quartered? I say, do | you really think this possible?” “ At your hands 1 think nothing impossible,” replied Nattie, ‘‘for you will not listen to rea- son. ‘Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the South Haven panes, ‘what, within the bounds of reason, assuch a bloodthirsty wretch as you pot to offer?’ Have you any excuse to make for mur- | dering that man lying there? Speak out, you young ghoul.” i ad. did not murder him,” replied Nattie, reso- ately. “Hear the lying dog,” yelled one Gus Hirsch; **T’ve a notion to strangle him.” “Tl swear I did not kill bim,” persisted the outh; “I will swear it with uplifted hands fore an avenging God.” ““Uplifted hands!” sneered Hirsch; ‘that’s good, seein’ his hands are tied up now by the thumbs. But, young bloodtbirsty, you'll sw’ar that away if yousw’ar at all.” “Gentlemen,” Nattie persisted, ‘I did not fire the shot that killed your friend. There was aman in the bushes near where I stood, and it was he who fired it. Iwas not over ten feet from him and would have fired upon him when Isaw he had shot one of your men, had I not seen you coming.” *“ And run,” added Trimble, facetiously. “Yes, run; I was so excited and flustrated by the report of the rifle and your cry of ven- nee and excited appearance that, I must confess, I found myself running ere’ I was aware of what I was doing.” “A pretty story, indeed,” said Hirsch, his evil face wearing a vicious, malignant grin. “Did you not see me within half a minute after the shot was fired?’ Nattie asked. ; “Yes; within a quarter of a minute,” said Trimble. “Then you know I could not have had time to reload my gun; and if you will examine it you will find it is now loaded.” “That may all be; you could have ee some way to - inaload. As cunning a dog as you are could work that. Moreover, we saw the very smoke from your gun hanging before ou. “The smoke from the Unknown Destroyer’s gun floated out before me,” Nattie responded, The men burst into a roar of mocking laugh- ter. ‘Oh, that ll do to tell; but it won’t scour with us—hullo! bere comes the captain. Ha, old boy; we’ve got him this time.” Captain Spencer, at this juncture, rode into camp, glanced at Nattie, then dismounting hitched his horse near and turning exclaimed: ‘Heieh-ho! what have yor rot here, boyd” “A Gaad maa | nid Sry tO TOY, Ora ~
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22 and hismurderer, lam happy toinform you. Look, captain; upon’ the Unktiown Marksman!” As Captain Spencer glanced at the body cf one of his men a sigh of regret escaped his lips; and when he had transferred his gaze to the face of Nattie Darrall he started with a low cx- clamation of surprise; then a cloud of fierce triumph overcast his whole countenance and changed his features into those of asavage de- mon, ** Men!” he shricked, with a horrible cath, * do you know ho is the infernal murderer?” ‘* We do; we just as good as scen him fire the dca’ shot that slew Clem.” ‘*T deny that man being slain by me,” said oi ‘*and you will believe me when it is too ate.” “Of course, he denies it; but it’s natural that he should. But, captain, his name is Nattie Derrall.” ‘What? exclaimed the captain, with a start, and he turned and plucked Trimble aside, when in a low tone he continued: ‘‘is this a fact?—is that young Darrall?’ ‘He told me his name was Nathan Darrall,” replied Trimble. ‘I’m willing to take his word for that, anyhow.” ‘¢Then be must be hung, demon or no demon. We will never be sate as long as he and bis other live—especially if those papers should ever turn up.” ‘There is nodoubt of his having killed Clem,” said Trimble. ‘‘ The case is too plain to admit of a single doubt.” ‘‘ Well, the evidence of four men is as good as his denial, and therefore he must not escape,” declared Spencer. They returned to the fire, when Spencer took up Nattie’s rifle and examined it carefully. * This rifle speaks against you, young man,” he said, addressing the prisoner; ‘there is not another of as small a bore in this country. I see it is loaded; there is no doubt a copper bul- let in it.” “That gun,” said Nattie, “is a borrowed one. It belongs to the old cranberry-picker’s dangbter.” Trimble nudged Spencer and laughed sardon- ically; while a cloud of jealous anger swept over the face of the latter, as thoughts of what he had seen that day occurred to his mind. “T'll admit,” said the captain, ‘that he was fooling around Old Cranberry’s girl to-day, for I saw him; though I did not know him at the time. But that will make uo difference with me, and all the wors® for him. Bovs, what shall be done with the young murderer? Speak out; the evidence is before you, and you're the ury. j ‘Hang him! hang him! burn him! quarter him!” shouted the men, as eager for tie lad’s life-blood as savages could have been. ‘*Tbe majority says, ‘hang him,’ and so say I!” exclaimed Spencer. ‘This, youngster, is the verdict.” “Gentlemen, will you not give me a trial?” asked Nattie, growing uneasy, for he saw the men were in earnest. “No, sir; you deserve no trial,” was tbe cruel reply. I a prove my entire innocence,” the youth affirmed; ‘‘ ouly give me time and I'll convince you of this.” “Hang him! hang him!” shouted the men, fiercely. “Then lead up my horse for a scaffold,” or- dered the villain, Spencer. The horse was led up under the tree where Nattie stood, and the youth was mounted upon his back; then the hitch-rein was removed from the bridle, and one end fastened around the prisoner’s neck—the other thrown over a limb above his head and drawn almost taut, and there fastened. Gus Hirsch held the horse by the bits, ready to lead it out from under the youth at a sign from the executioner. “Now, young man,” said Spencer, when all was ready to hurl him into eternity, “if you have any confession to make, or any thing to say, now is your time, for die you shall.” ‘I haveno confession to make,” replied the youth, almost choked by the feelings strugglin upward in his breast; ‘* but my request is tha ou return that rifle and outfit to its owner, Ida ne. “Tl attend to that,” replied the cold, heart- less demon at his side; ‘tis that all? Beina hurry ; time is precious.” “here ismy poor old mother,” the youth con- tinued, the tears ——e into his eyes, and his lips quivering; ‘‘send her word, and tell her how t died, and that my last thoughts were of her. Tell her that I died for crimes of which I am innocent. Oh, my mother! my mother! may God have mercy upon her!” “Stop that,” whispered Trimble, touched to the guilty soul by the youth’s sad words; “stop it, captain, or Pll be cussed if I don’t give way.” “Ig that all?’ again demanded Spencer, -whose heart was as hard and cold as adamant. ‘*'That’s all,” replied Nathan. “Then lead out the horse, Hirsch !” But Hirsch did not do as bidden. Before he gould move, a rifle in the shadows rung out, The Giant thiflenend( and ke fell dead at the horse’s feet, shot through | tho head. “My Ged! arother fatal blunder!” cried Spencer. ‘*The Unknown Destroyer is still at large!—charge the bushes, men, charge!” Under the awful excitement of the moment, every man scized his gun and plunged into the woods. The horse, left free, walked out from under Nathan Darrall, leaving the youth bang- ing by the neck between heaven and eurth— his body swinging to and fro in the sickly glow of the bivouac-fire. CHAPTER XXV. AN INGENIOUS LETTER. As Spencer and his men plunged away into the woods in pursuit of tie dread unknown, they never once stopped to think that the life of an innocent boy was left in jeopardy for the crimes of another. They sped on into the sha- dows like maddened beasts, and not until they were nearly exhausted did they take into con- sideration the foolhardiness of their chase, and come toa halt. Trimble was the first to think of Nattie Darrall and speak of the situation they left him in. The terrible truth seemed to paralyze them all. ‘** By heavens!” exclaimed Spencer, ‘‘ I never once thought cf the boy; that horse would never stand still under him with the scent of blood under bis nose. I’m afraid the boy is a goner; but if he is, I sha’n’t mourn. But let’s saunter back, boys.” rom b started on a run back to camp, al- though they had little hopes of being in time, for fully ten minutes had elapsed since they bad lett. ‘To their relief, however, in »case they felt any compunctions, at all, for the deed they had almost committed, they found, on reaching camp, that Nattie had been cut down by Old Wolverine, Goliah Strong, Ed: Matthews and Frank Ballard, who had arrived in. the very nick of time to save the youth’s life. “By gracious!” exclaimed ‘Trimble, in appar- ent delight, seeing they were bound to make the best of their situation, ‘it’s a lucky thing ou came, men, in time to save that boy. attie, ll acknowledge I was wrong, and you were innocent. I believe now you told us the truth—yes, by criminy, I know you are.” ‘*T care not whether you believe it or not,” was Nattie’s indignant 1ctort; ‘‘ you are, never- theless, a coward, as aro all your friends. This much / know.” “ Well, if you wasn’t a boy, I wouldn’t take that,” replied Trimble, flushing up with cow- ardly indignation. ‘Tl stand responsible for anything the boy says—I will, by the eternal waters!’ said Old olverine, ‘*Tdo not want trouble; neither do I want to be called a coward by a boy,” replied Trim- ble, in a rather conciliatory tone. “ Well, I, Oid Wolverine, am not a boy as anybody knows of.” said the old wolf-hunter his eyes blazing with indignation: ‘ and yit I say you are all a set of cowards, | oltroons, and villains, too.” **Old man, take that back, or a thrashing!” said the infuriated gambler and pvize-fighter from South Haven, as he marched up toward Wolverine and squared off in scientific style to knock him down. ‘ Never!” said Old Wolverine, and before any one thoaght of such a thing, the lunter’s left fist shot out, unexpectedly to Trimble, and was aca squarely in the gambler’s face, sending im to the earth like an ox. This was such an unlooked-for result that Spencer and his men, foreseeing trouble, at once interfered in behalf of peace, ‘*Hold on, men!” the captain said, stepping in between them; ‘‘you cannot afford to quar- rel] j Youare too good men to become foes.” “Yd jist as lief fight as not,” replied Old Wolverine; “I'd fight my grand-daddy if the old rat’d tried to run over a boy like that. Ob, I mK garg cap’n, with my fo’foot ekal toa jas- sack. “Tam pred oe, words should arise between us,” the captain continued, in a conciliatory manner; ‘‘I was not here when the lad, Dar- rall, was captured; and the boys were so — tive that be was the Destroyer that I could not gainsay them.” ““Tt’s always customary in civilized countries to give a man a trial before he is hanged,” said Goliah Strong with deliberate coolness. “I will admit the fact, Goliah,” answered the captain, he being in no way desirous of. op- — the giant hunter; ‘ but there are, you now, some mitigating circumstances in favor of the boys’ hasty action. You know we have been harassed almost to death by the Unknown rksman—” “Yes,” interrupted Goliah, ‘*I know you ar- rested me once, and proved me guilty of being the Destroyer; when the very man that bore false witness against me fell dead—a victim of the Unknown. You also suspected Old Wolve- rine the last night we were at the Five Points, and while you were searching for evidence to convict hig, a bullet from the dread enemy was sent in through the open door and cuta trench across your friend Trimble’s forehead. Perhaps this enemy is ‘the east vengeance of the inscrutable God. ho knows but these very men who have’ fallen under an unseen band are the companions in some terrible crime? And who knows but the Unknown Marksman is, not only one person, but a band: of those silent and terrible vigilants that hunt down wrong-doers with the silence of death itself? When the truth of all this mystery is known, you’)l find that no boys are at the bottom of it, now mind what I tell you.” ; “That may all be,” assented Spencer, fixing a nervous look upon the big hunter, whose words sounded so prophetic. “Thar’s been very few killed, to my krow- in’,” said Old Wolverine, ‘“‘Lut what could be spared better than any left. The Destroyer is very keerful to kill seme ornery French half- breed or lazy buck Ingin; I'll say that much for him.” “I hope, Wolverine, that. you don’t approve of such wholesale wwurder of men,” Sper cer re- marked. ‘Ob, no, not) by any mears. /I war just sayin’ he killed no geod people.” Both Spencer ard Tiimble, notwithstandin the latter’s black eye, 11cm this on, courte harmony between the two parties; althcugh both were dcubtless sorry, frcm the Lottom of their hearts, that’ Nattie Darrall had escapcd. In the course of the night, Spencer and his men took their dead comrades and set out for Camp Spencer, leaving Old Woiverine and bis party in possession of their cemp. No socner were the lumbermen cut of sight than Goliah Strong sat down by Nattie and said: “« Nattie, I felt in hopes that the next time I met you after the day we rescved you from the wolverines that I would be able to place in yours hands pepers that would make you heir to a fortune.’ Nattie Jooked vp in surprise. ‘““Ay, Nattie!’ exclaimed Frank, ‘our bee- ewe, excursion inay result in wealth to you e ‘*T do not understand you,” said Nattie. ‘Pll tell you,” said Fravk, in a low tone; ‘Goliah Strong is a detective; and be is on trace of those stolen papers that made your father a poor man.” “Indeed?” cried Nattie, wild with joy; ‘‘ are those papers in existence?” ““l'hey are supposed to be,” replied Goliah: then he took that fragmentary document frcm his pocket and explained its whole history to Nattie, as we already know it. Nattie’s eyes glowed with inward joy while the big hunter sat narrating the story of the paper. His thoughts reverted ‘to his old mo- ther, and his heart leaped within his breast when he thought that her toiling and suffering in peaeete ee be ended, should those papers oun After Nattie had locked the torn letter ard map of Thoms careiully over, he passed it to Frank Ballard, who, moving to ihe opposite side of the fire, began to study it over. “Oh, if we could cnly supply the missin links!” exclaimed Nattie, “thon mother woul no longer kave to work—she would be comfort- able all her life.” “Suppose those papers are found,” said Ed, “couldn’t Trimble and Spencer swear they were forgeries?” “They could, and would, no doubt,” replied Goliah, ‘‘ but it can be proven, by myself, that they talked the matter over on the raft, and virtually admitted themselves the agents of the theft. Moreover, the seal of. the cflicer, before whom the as were ackrowledged, would be indisputable evicence of the validity: of the papers. If we fird them, the first thing to te done is to place them upon the records of the court; then ee a suit of foreclesure.” ‘* How long bave you had the paper, Goliah?”’ Nattie asked. ‘*Over a year.” ‘*Then there is not much hope of ever supply- ing the missing words.” - “There is hope as long as there is life, Naw e. ‘“ But there is sometimes hoping in vain.” “Yes, yes, Nattie; this I have found by ex- perience—but now this reminds me of what I desire to ask concerning the people residing on the Blue Marsh.” ‘‘They are honorable people, Goliah; they are not fugitives from justice, I know,” replied Nattie. ‘No, no; I. do not suspect them of wrong, Nattie. I only want to know if you meade any inquiry, during your stay at the cabin, into the story of old Cranberry’s family.” “I did, Goliah, in a casual way,” replied Nat- tie, ‘‘ but I learned little of thcir past life. They were very silent as to the past ; though I could see lain enoughthat trouble bore heavier —_ Mrs. ane than the weight of years. The old man Mrs. Zane’s father, is very feeble, and is not long for this world. He has seen man’s allotted years—three-score and ten.” “Is Berry his true name? and that of Zane the true name of the women?” questioned Ge =
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— -— — The Giant Rifleman. ‘*T presume so; at least Ihave no reason to think contrary. They arenoble-hearted people, that I do know.” ‘‘Mrs. Zane, then, is a widow” acc Yes. ” ‘Did you see no old books of any kind while you were there? or pictures of friends?” ‘*[ was given several books to reed during my convalescence; they were all old, time-worn books.” ‘ E ‘amily relics, | presume,” said Goliah. “I can’t say that they were, altogether, for none of them had the name of either family in them, though they may have been gifts from relatives and friends.” ‘What were tho titles of the books? do you re- member?’ questioned the hunter. ‘‘Ono was the ‘Life of Washington,’ another ‘Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress,’ another was a copy of * Burns’s Poems,’ and—” ‘Stop right there, Nattie,” interrupted the hunter, ‘‘and answer mo one question; did you notice the name written in ‘ Burns’s Poems?” “T did,” replied Nattie. **Do you remember what it was?” “Tt was Ambrose—” ‘* Ambrose Belmcnt,” broke in the giant. ‘“The same; Ambrose Belmont,” replied Nat- e. “Then I was right,” said the man, and he appeared greatly agitated by some sudden emotion; ‘I have not hoped in vain, after » “Goliah, what do you know about them?” asked Nattie, greatly surprised by Goliah’s emotions. “Well, I'll tell you, though the story is not told ina minute. Years ago there dwelt far away from here ina pleasait home with his wife and a little girl named Zoe, Ambrose Bel- mont. I don’t suppose there was a happier family on earth than that very family. Mrs, Belmont was a kind, affectionate woman of great culture and refinement, though of a very sensitive nature. When their little girl Zoe was about six or seven years of age Ambrose received the appointment of Government sur- veyor and was sent West into a newly organ- ized territory to work. There he remained two years; and in the meantime he received letters from home—kind and affectionate in tone. Finally his labor was completed and he went home; and, oh, such ahome as he found! It was ceserted by wife and child—there was no one to greet him after his years of toil and happy anticipations.” Zi ‘She had proven untrue to him,” said Nat- e ‘‘No, no, Nattie; no purer heart ever throb- bed. I don’t believe her mind ever harbored an evil thought. It was the forked tongue of that hydra-headed monster, the ‘curse of so- ciety, he fountain of all wrong, the bane of happiness—the slanderer—that desolated the home of Ambrose Belmont. He did it out of a spirit of the most petty revenge. He had been a candidate for the position of Govern- ment surveyor and was defeated by Belmont; and, during the absence of the latter, had sought revenge by attacking the character of Mrs. Belmont. His charges at the time were so bold and highly polished with the semblanco of truth that they seemed to carry conviction to the public mind; and crushed to earth un- der the finger of scorn, Belmont took her ehild and fled from her home. She had be come so despondent and broken-hearted that she could not think otherwise than that her husband, like the rest of the cold world, would ive ear unto the tongue of the serpent that fad invaded their Eden, She knew that is would be a deadlier blow to receive her hus- bana’s reproaches for charges of which she was innocent than the reproaches of all the world; and so she, poor thing, fled to parts un- known to conceal her bleeding beart from her husband’s anger. But time went on, and ears afterward the vengeance of aninscrutable God overtook the slanderer. His horse ran away with him, and, throwing him heavily to the earth, inflicted injuries upon him of which he finally died. But, before he ended his event- ful career, he became penitent and made a full confession of his sins. The most grievous of these was the slandering of Mrs. Belmont to break up their home and happiness. He told Belmont, and those who had been the first to believe his story, and ery out inst Mrs. Bel- mont, that every word was false—that he be- lieved Mrs. Belmont as pure and innocent as a ‘ { Rad ee The reoteh the monster!” broke in Nat- e “But, you see,” continued Goliah, “years had now passed, and the wrong seemed irre- parable. However, Belmont advertised in nearly every paper of note in America for his wife; but no answer ever came. She seemed as cowple'ely lost to him as though the grave claimed ber; and, in fact, he finally con- cluded she must be dead. Still he lived on in of some day bearing of his family; and when the last lingering ray had about died out, he, by the merest accident, ran across @ girl who favored his wife so closely that he thought eho must be his child, That girl is Ida Zane, # And you, Goliab,” exclaimed Nattie, “are her father, Ambrose Belmont.” ‘Yes; Iam Ambrose Belmont.” Nattie gave utterance toa shout of joy that the midnight echoes sounded through the lonely halls of the night. Y “Oh, what joy,” he exclaimed, “this news will be to Ida Zane!” “T thought I might possibly have been mis- taken,” said the big detective, for such he really was; ‘‘but the name in those books leaves no doubt in my mind now. Mrs. Zane and her daughter are my wife, mgt 8 and my daughter, Zoe. It wasin hopes of finding them that I first applied for a position on the detective force emploved by the Government. I was sent West to ferret out some gangs of counterfeiters, and, under the guiso of a hun- ter, have I been following my avocation in this country; and while [am likely to succeed in a a notorious band, I am, also, likely to make you a rich boy, and myself a happy man. I must visit the Blue Marsh to- morrow, and end the suspense that has kept me so restless since the day you were rescued ‘from the wolverines, and I first saw Ida Zane.” ‘Well, surely the hand of Fate works won- ders,” said Nuttie Darrall. ‘‘ Now, if he would only help me to unravel the mystery, or secret of that paper, then—” ‘“‘It is solved! itis solved!” suddenly burst from the lips of Frank Ballard, who had been seated at one side looking over the paper, and who, springing to bis feet, waved the document above his Seid, and sent forth yell after yell of delight that made the old woods fairly ring. “What do you mean, Frank? Have you supplied the missing links?’ “Yes, yes!” shouted Frank. ‘I have solved the riddle of this paper! Nathan Darrall, my boy, give me your band, cld chum, and allow me to congratulate you upon your success, for you are now a rich man!’ f ‘Hist! hark!” said Old Wolverine, lifting his finger. The next moment to the surprise and regret of all, James Trimble and Captain Spencer, followed by several of bis men, suddenly re- turned to their night’s bivouac, CHAPTER XXVI. FRANK AS A CRYPTOGRAPHER. GOoLIAH STRONG became somewhat surprised, as wellas uneasy, at the sudden and unexpected return of Spencer and a number of his men. He felt satisfied that they had not had time to go all the way to Camp Spencer and back, in he short period that had elapsed since they bad departed with their dead. He at once sus- pected Spencer and Trimble of having been eavesdropping about the camp; and, if so, they bad doubtless beard what Frank Ballard had said concerning the solution of Thoms’s letter, and Nattie being a rich man. Rising from the ground, the big detective walked around to where Frank stood, and, without a word, took the paper from his hand, and put it in bis pocket, at the same time giving him a look invoking silence. ‘**Bullo, captain!” exclaimed Old Wolverine, as the lumberman and his friends entered camp. “Got back purty quick, didn’t ye?” : “Yes; we didn’t go up to camp. We met rome of the boys and concluded to ecme tack,” said Spencer, running his eyes over the differeut ae ina manner that betrayed evident dis- rust. Not another word was said concerning Frank’s discovery, although it was like smother- ing a Vesuvius in each heart to keep back the feeling of joy and gladness that Ballard’s an- nouncement had awakened. ** Wal, T reckon es what you'll lodge with us to-night,” said Old Wolverine, feeling around in his usual easy indifference, ‘I think not,” replied Spencer. ‘‘This gen- tleman,” and he turned to a man whom none of our friends had ever seen before, and who wore a rather authoritative air, “is the sheriff of D—— county, and has a warrant for the arrest of Goliab Strong.” ‘Yes, sir; 1am sorry to say that Iam com- peiled to arrest Mr. Strong,” said the sheriff, taking some ey ae from his pocket, and ad- vancing toward Goliah. ** Well, sheriff,” said the big detective, sus- pecting some treachery the moment he spoke, ‘if youcan take me, you'll have to be a bet- ter man than I.” “Then, sir, I am to understand that you will resist me, and my authority,” said the sheriff, throwing all the force he could summon into his looks and words, “I think I will not be taken,” coolly re- sponded Strong. ‘*] hope, Goliah,” said Spencer, “that you will not resist, for Sheriff Macklin has pressed us into his service, and we cannot refuse to assist him without laying ourselves liable. The law, you know, is inexorable.” “That, now,” chimed in Old Wolverine, “sounds more like the true ring; it’s encourag- ing, it’s promising. I baven’t bad a real, down- right Hight for some time; and so, if you insist on arrestin’ Goliar, why, you'll have a slippery time of it.” “Friend Wolverine,” said Spencer, ‘‘we can’t afford to quarrel while we should be united in the presence of the dangers that menace us.” “‘Then let Goliar alone; the fust man that attempts to tackle him ’!] git the stuffin’ knock- ed outen him. I’m an ole rustler from taw, cap’n, once r’iled up.” ‘It it’s fight you want and will have, you shall not be disappointed,” said the captain, de- termnined to try the game of bluff upon the hunter and his friend. Hitherto, the young bee-hunters had re- mained quiet, but when their comrades seemed ina fair way of getting into trouble, they ad- = their weapons and stood ready for the ray. The odds were in favor of the sheriff’s party, and it was this that made them more deter- mined and outspoken in their conduct. There were eight of his party, and only five of Go- liah’s; and every man of the formér was better armed than the latter. To Goliah it was evident, from the first, that they had come there prepared for a row. Their very looks and ill-guised feelings told him this. He was well enough satisfied that the sheriff was a gigantic fraud, improvised for that occasion by Spencer and Trimble, who felt that the big hunter was a thorn in their sides. He knew they must have got wind of his business there in the pineries, or else mis- trusted that he was in some way connected with an element adverse to their success and interest. Goliah entertained some doubts of their ability to cope with the sheriff’s party, and in case they should become engaged, he knew some one must die. He could see no way to avert bloodshed unless it was to accede to the enemy’s demands, and in the very last ex- tremity of hope, Old Wolverine came to the rescue in gallant style. “Now, gentlemen,” he said, “if it’s fight you will have, I’m going to make it warm for you,” and turning he gave a sharp whistle. The next instant his dogs care bounding to his side, and a word to them seemed to place them in an attitude of hostility. Old Baltic’s bristles became erect, and he showed his teeth and uttered a growl as sullen and ferocious as abear. The other dogs began walking arcund their master, evincing a restless impatience. Here was an enemy that Spencer and his men had overlooked; ani the ferocious ap- pearance cf the bull-dog, Old Baltic, inspir:d every one of them with more fear than did the old hunter himself. In fact, the captain saw at cence that they had a more formidable ene- my in the dogs than the men. Goliah saw «<n expression of surprise su lant that of the spirit of bravado upon the ‘aces of his enemies, and he at once felt easier. He knew the tables had been turned. “Tf fight it is, capt’in. I’m ready to Jet slip my pups of war,” said Old Wolverine; ‘‘ you can see that Baltic’s ready, and I tell ye, men, he’s a rip-roarin’ ole squipeepus. I’ve see’d bim jerk a man’s Ege cl’ar from the ve end o’ his toes, and craunch up bone and all. This is a holy jact, and if ye want to take yer chances in a skrimmage, advance yer pickets, and balance on the korner.” ‘“We have no desire to provoke unnecessary bloodshed,” replied Spencer, gravitating in the oyposite direction; ‘‘you are all invoking the peralty of the law by resisting its cficer; and my advice is for Mr, Strong to give up quietl sows escape the puniskinent of a double of- ense. “Oh-ah!” exclaimed Old Wolverine, “then yeu don’t prepese to combat any, eh? Wal, I don’t Keer oe neeaaeg A I hate to disappoint my puss. I presume, Goliar, if we git a fight outen these men we'll have to assume the of- fensive, and advance our lines.” ‘““We want no fight--no fight, gentlemen,” said the sheriff; ‘‘ but you will find that the laws of Michigan cannot be disregarded with impunity.” , ith these words the agent of the law turn- ed upon his heel and walked away, followed by Spencer and the 1est of bis posse. “Boys,” said Old Wolverine, the moment they were cut of sight and hearing, ‘“ we had better change cur quarters. They’ve got a grudge against Goliar for some reason or other, and when they come again it ‘ll be in force.” “T suggest that we retire to our late camp on the river,” seid Frank, ‘for those stolen papers are buried dov n there.” “Indeed? Witches and warlecks! then let’s git outen this at once,” exclaimed Wolverine, “afore a sly bullet sends some 0’ us over the hills.” Ina minute’s time all were ready to derart. Old Wolverine took the lead and they moved rapidly away through the woods, going rortb, When they again came to a halt it was in the same camp deserted by them a few hcus’ pre- vious. The smoldering embers of their firo were stiJ] there, and ina few minvtes a cheer ful light lit up the sun cunding gloom, : a -
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24: 6¢ NS, Nov Jos theo Unknown Marksman or Sheriff Mecklin £nd us, if they please,” said Old. Wol- verine. **1 ‘sco that I havo got to ccs with dispatch,” said Goliah Strong, ‘‘ for Spencer and Trimblo are beginning to scent danger. First, I want to visit Old Cranberry’s cabin, then I must.explcro Camp Spencer for further evidence ot its being the ietreat of a gang of counterfeiters, Tho money won from Japs by Old Wolverine tho cther night at the Points is, every dollar of it, counterfcit. Now, Frank, if you havo tho secret of this paper solved, let us all know what itis,” and ho took the paper from his pocket and passed is to young Ballard. ‘rank sat down and his friends gathered eround lim, their faces betraying their intenso eagerness, “You all think,” he said, ‘ that somo of tho writing has Loecn torn, off of each cnd of this paper; but such is not the case. Itis acipher etter, cond the way I discovered its secret was this: while studying it over, 1 involuntarily foldel the lower end of the paper backward, this way, along the Jower edge of tho map,” and he illustrated tho same ‘by repeating tho ect. ‘Then I folded the upper end of tke pa- per back elong tho upper margin of tho map, this way. That, you see, leaves nothing but the map next to you; but turn the opposite side to you, and you find that tho torn ends of tho paper fit cxactly together, and tho secret is plaintobercad. | Thero itis,” and he turned tho paper and revealed tho following: “Ty heavens,” burst from Goliah’s lips as Frank read aloud tho secret, ‘‘it is an ingenious cocument—Thomas Thoms was no fool after all. Nattie, allow mo to ccngratulato you—in the bend between tho mouth of tho north and south Black rivers,’ tho paper says. Boys! wo are cncamped in that bend this blessed minute!” “Ay, Goliar!’ cxclaimed Old Wolverine; *sve’re not a hundred jumps from the very spot whar tiem papers aro buried, Say the word, end I’}] rnn down to the Fivo Points for a spade to begin the search carly cock-crow to-morrow morrivs.” “Jl go with you,” said Ed Mathews, and in a few minutes’ time the two were on their way to tho livo Points. CHAPTER XXVIII. MRS. ZANE’S VISITORS. Artrnz his failure to capture Goliah Strong, Captuin Spencer returned to camp, furious wit rave, lle slept but little that night, for some- thing like a presentiment of coming danger had im et Lis nerves and disturbed his peace of mind. Early the next morning he went over to the cabin of the old cranberry-picker to make some further arrangements for his marriage with pretty Ida Zane. He did not remain over an hour at the cabin, and es}. e bowed himself out at the door he dis- covered two Indian squaws in dirty red blan- kets land at the foot of the hill and beach their canoe—a tiny bark craft of elaborate workman- ship, ay say, Ida,” he said, turning and addressing the maiden, ‘‘you are to have company—a couple of ladies from Alleghan,” Hie then turned and moved on toward the landing. On the way he met the blanketed equaws, who mepued aside for him to pass: and as he did so he threw out one of his booted feet and tripped the foremost squaw up. With a groan she fell heavily upon the earth. With an outburst cf brutal Jaugbter the vil- lain passed on, end reaching the water’s ote stepped into the Indians’ canoe, to which he had taken a fancy, and seating himself paddled away Cown the stream. The equaws moved on tothe cabin. They ap- gromcnes the door sbyly, Ida and her mother ere very indifferent es to their presence, for The Giant Rifleman. begging squaws cailed frequently at the home of the crauberry -pickers, Ida met them at the door and demanded: ‘““What do you want to-day?’ ‘* Nothing but rest,” replied one, in pure Eng- lish, and in a sweet, musical tone that not on surprised our heroine, but at once appealed di- rectly to her kind voung heart, ‘*Come in, then,” Ida said, leading the way into the cabin, Chairs wero given the women, but before seating themselves they threw aside their greasy blankets revealing garbs that were of some fine texture, and fitting their forms neat- ly. Hoops ot gold cncircled their arms and wrists, and jewels flashed in their raven tresses. Weither of them possessed features at all charac- teristic of their race; and one of them spoke euch pure English that Ida and her mother at once mistrusted them of being white women in Cisguise, como there to inquire into their se- cluded life. “Where do you live?” Ida inquired of them, after they had been seated. ‘* At Alleghan,” was the answer of the elder squaw, ** What are your names?” ‘* My name is Mancelah, and that of my sister GSummer-Rose. She is the daughter of Pokah- can, and the flower of the tribe,” ‘* You speak my language well,” said Ida to Maneelah. ‘*T have lived all my days with the white ople. Many of them dwell at Alleghan, the home of the Pottawatomies. Moreover, my husband is a pale-face.” ‘‘Then you.are a married woman?” ‘*T was,” she answered, with a sigh. ‘*T presume, then, your husband is dead.” ‘Tn one sense of the word he is.” “What do you mean?” asked Mrs, Zane, puz- sled by the woman’s answer. ‘‘Ho no longer loves me,” she spoke, figura- tively. ‘Where is he now?” ‘*T know not. He left here a few minutes ago.” ‘*Whom do you mean?’ exclaimed Mrs. ane. ** Randolph Spencer!” was thea startling an- swer, ‘ A cry of surprise burst from Mrs, Zane’s ips. mt oman! you are uttering a falsehood!” she cried, “| speak the truth; Randolph Spencer is my lawfal husband, and yet he would marry that innocent child,” said the squaw, pointing to Ida, while her eyes fairly blazed with the fire of pent-up emotions; ‘‘ we were concealed un- der some drooping willows in our cance when her young lover left her yesterday. We heard Randolph Spencer come to her and abuse ber - permitting her gallant boy-lover to kiss er “Oh, my God!” cried Mrs. Zane, wringing her hands in grief, ‘‘ when will wy troubles be over?” ‘You, tuo, then, have had a life of trouble?’ the Indian woman said, inquiringly. “Yes, yes, it is woman’s lot to suffer.” **Tt seems so,” replied Maneelah; ‘‘ years ago mine began when I was young and light-heart- ed as your pretty daughter. I was forced to marry Spencer oF a cruel, selfish guardian, who thought more of gold than human happiness. I soon hated Spencer with all the intensity of my soul, because I loved another. Spen- cer, soon tiring of me, deserted me; and then I was almost alone in the cold, cruel world which held but little sympathy for the discarded wife. But, thank God, I had a kind and loving bro- ther who took me to bis far-off frontier home, and there I lived for years in seclusion and qui- etude. Were his desertion of me the only crime of which he was guilty I could easily forgive him, because I knew I could not be what a wife should be to him, and at the same time love an- other.” “Then he has other crimes resting upon his soul?” said Mrs. Zane. ‘I believe although I am not certain, that the curse of Cain rests upon his soul. He had a half-brother named Randolph Spencer—his own name being Henry Mount. These brothers fav- ored each other so closely that one was often mistaken for the other. Many times have I heard Henry Mount, my husband, make the re- mark that if Randolph should suddenly disap- pear he could pass hitnself as the missing man, and at the same time declare that it was Henry that was missing. After I had been inmy fron- tier home awhile the news came to my ears that Henry Mount had been found dead in the river, and everything went to show that he bad_been murdered, I thought at the time of what Henry had often said, and ede that Randolph was very wealthy I wondered if Henry had dealt foully with him. Time went on and the_ first thing I knew I heard that one areas £ Spen- cer and James Trimble had purchased a large tract of timber-land on the South Black river, and with a large force of workmen had commenc- ed chopping and rafting. 1 wondered if it was the Randolph Spencer whom I had once known, ead waited along while before I got to gee bim, ' <a 5 nS One day he passed through our settlement on a hunting excursion and I got a glimpse of him; but for my life I couldn’t tell whether it was Henry or Randolph. My general impression, however, was that it was Randolph; and if so I felt certain that Henry had murdered him an then taken his brotber’s name, The uncertain- ty of this identity preyed upon my mind day and night; and I finally resolved to end the sus- pense and doubt I was laboring under by ascer- taining the facts in the case. 5 knew that if it was Henry living he was imitating all the pe- culiarities of bis brother to a wonderful degree of success; and there was but one thing about Henry by which could identify him beyond doubt, This was a large scar extending across the cheek and throat where he had been wound- ed in a drunken row the year he and I were me Neal I h ‘“Nearly a year ago, I, in company with a friend, descended the Black river, and one night paddled our canoe over and landed on a large raft upon which Spencer was known to be. Watching my chances, for it was very dark and dangerous footing on the raft, I stole forward and when the captain sat bolt upright in a half-drunken stupor, I walked into the tent and careiully raising his long beard, saw the telltale scar upon his throat. He was Henry Mount, and not Randolph Spencer; and this very fact convinces me that he murdered his brother for his property, then left that country and came here, hoping to escape iden- tification. This, my friends, is the truth, though it is not all cf which Henry Mount is guilty. Itell ycu this much that you may es- cape the monster’s clutches,” * Ah! I see you are not an Indian,” said Mrs. Zane, greatly excited. ‘*No; Iam a white woman, as you can see,” she replied, revealing a bosom of snowy white- ness. ‘‘ My name is Edith Mcunt.” ‘‘Does he know that you are living?” Ida pong her eyes swimming in tears of both joy and pity. sw “He did know it a few evenings ago, though he supposed I was dead—a victim of another foul murder of his; and when he discovered I was living, he attempted to kill me again. He breast from which I am now suffering. When that same inhuman monster tripped me upa few minutes ago, under the impression that I was an old squaw, the fall hurt me very much,” ‘Oh, poor, persecuted soul!” cried Mrs. Zane; ‘you have saved my child from ruin and death, for in two days more she would have been wedded to that villain!” “‘T learned some time ago, through a friend that he was paying respects to a young girl here; and it was to warn her that I came to the Blue Marsh to-day.” ‘*God bless you!” exclaimed the mother, and falling upon her knees she clasped the hands of Edith, while her white lips moved in a prayer of thanks to Him who sees the fall of every sparrow, and holds the destiny of each soul in the hollow of His hand. CHAPTER XXVIII. A LIVELY RACE. But little sleep came to the eyes of Golicw Strong and his friends, after Old Wolverine and one of the bee-hunters left camp for the Five Points. Thoughts of the restoration of his father’s fortune kept Nattie Darrall awake, restless and impatient. Goliah was calm, thoughtful and watchful, for he could not dis- miss all fears of danger from his mind. Morning at length dawned, and after break- fasting on wild turkey, Goliah said: “ Boys, it will be noon or after before Wol- verine and Ed return; and as we can co noth- ing here, suppose we make a flying visit over ys the Blue Marsh? We have no time to ose,” ‘I'm in for it!” exclaimed Nattie, eagerly. “ Anything will suit me,” said Frank Bal- rd. Goliah poser ncom of paper from his pocket, and with a pencil wrote their intention upon it and then pinned the same to the tree under which they were encamped, that Wolverine and Ed might know where they were, sheuld the two return from the Points before they eame back from the marsh, This done, they took their departure, About noon Old Wolverine and Ed Mathews returned from the Points with the spade; but were astonished to find their friends had de- serted camp, and from all appearances, hours before. Goliah’s notice, however, did not es- cape their eyes, and when Ed had read it, all fears subsided. “They'll not be back afore night, Edward,” Old Wolverine said; ‘if Goliah goes up thar and finds that woman bis wife, and that gal, Ida, his darter, he’ll not leave thar right away, that’s my ’pinion. I wouldn’t, you may bet.” “Well, why can’t we begin the search for those Darrall papers?’ Ed asked. ‘* We can, if you remember the instructions.” “Tremember every word: ‘under an oek tree in the bend between the mouth of the fired at me, inflicting a severe wound in the | °
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North and South Black rivers,’ is what the pa- r said. “Then come along,” said Wolverine, and with his 1ifle upon his shoulder and the spade under his arm, the two set off through the woods, They penetrated to the river, searching the forest carefully as they advanced. They moved up and down the stream, keeping within speaking distance apart. For an hour they searched the bend over and over, and Ed had begun to despair of finding the tree, when sud- cenly be was startled by a low whistle from Wolverine. Peering through the dense woods, he saw the old hunter beckoning him toward him, and crossing over to where he stood under a great oak, he was ted with the exclamation: “Eureka! Eureka!” ed jerked off his hat and would have uttered ashout of joy, had Wolverine not enjoined si- lence upon him. . ‘ ; ‘“‘Thar may be inemics lurkin’ about,” he said; ‘‘mcreover, the box may not be under this tree, and a feller’d better not holler till out o’ the woods. But from ’pearances, I should think this war tho spot. Thar is a kind of a sink in the ground which looks as though the dirt had settled; and thar on the tree you can seo the Lark has becn blazed off some time ago.” These marks were all very plain, and since the tree was tho only oak of any size that they had found, thero was not much doubt of its be- ing the one alluded to in Thoms’s paper. So divesting himself of his riflo and accouter- ments, Wolverino began digging around the sunken spot previously mentioned. He had not taken out moro than half a dozen shovel- fuls of dirt when, lo! and behold! he turned up a small box covered with black rust. ; ‘“That’s it! that’s it!” exclaimed Ed, stooping, and taking up the box in his hands. Wolverine dropped tho spade, and together he and E11 examined the box carefully over. The lid was rusted fast, and in several places the rust had eaten through the tin. They had no difficulty in breaking the box open, and when’ they did so a packago rolled up in a newspaper fell out. Ed cpened tho bundle, and found the Dar- rall papers in a good state of preservation, though quite damp and musty. He glanced over the writing and signatures, and when as- sured tbat they were the right papers, ho wrap- d them in tho broken box. At this very juncture a voice, stern and deadly, exclaimed: “ Drop that bee where you stand, or die!” Ei started with acry of horror, and lifting his eves, ho beheld the muzzle of a rifle thrust through a clump of bushes near, and a deadly oye iasing down the barrel. The face and form of the man was concealed; but there was no as gemgee tho voice. It was that of Jim Trimble. Old Wolverino was already covered from danger by tho trunk of the great oak, and, act- ing upon tho spur of the moment, Ed leaped to one side as quick asa flash, and placed a tree between himself and the muzzle of the assas- sin’s gun. Trimble fired, but a second too late, whereupon Old Wolverine drew his revolver, and reaching around the tree, began firing 7 , though at random, upon the enemy. ‘he latter returned the fire, one or two bul- lets cutting close to Wolverine’s hand. When the old hunter had emptied the last chamber of his revolver, he turned and whistled for his dogs that were out in the woods near, As old Baltic came lumbering up from the river, where he had been wallowing in the water, the sound of retreating footsteps was heard on the other side, and peeping around the tree, the hunter saw Trimble and the late Sheriff Maclin running off at the top of their speed. Phe dogs had again put them to flight. ‘“‘Now, Ed,” said the old borderman, “‘ is our time, so iet’s out for tall timber. Thar’s no denying the thet that Trimble, one of the sign- ers of those notes and the mortgage in that box, knows that they arein our possession. gm will move heaven and earth, and ransack hell and fury to find us. Come along, Ed, for thar they come in force—more thantwenty o’ them! It’s no use making a_stand; they’re too many for the Old Guard. Here we go, like a scootin’ brace of meteors.” Wolverine and Ed, the latter with the box under one arm, and his rifle under the other. took to their heels, and with all their speed fled up the river. Trimble, followed by a score of lumbermen and gamblers of South Haven, pursued them— yelling like demons, and firing their guns and revolvers at random. Bullets whistled and tattled through the shrubbery like ene . beg raerremd uncomfortably near to the hea tives, The latter soon reached the river, then turn- ed and along the shore. Trimble and his Fi” Or owing close behind, shouted ,lustily for to halt, their commands being accom- ied by oaths and threats of the most horrible by that box!” yelled Trimble, “ar, by the Ps an wet ape ie me The Giant Rifleman. ‘The devil ll give you quarters in a warm corner,” replied Old Wolverine. “Wolverine,” cried Ed, “they’re gaining upon us rapidly.” ‘* Mebby we can dodge them up here and git over onto Castle Island. Keep a stiff upper- lip, Ed, and hoe it down lively. If them critters git a holt on us they’ll be apt to snatch us bald.” ‘‘Carry my rifle a moment, then,” said Ed. Wolverine dropped back, and taking Math- ews’s rifle, again dashed on ahead. He had gone but a few oie when he heard some- thing plash in the water, a little behind him, and glancing back over his shoulder, he saw, to his surprise and horror, that the young bee-hunter had thrown the box into the river. ‘“‘ My great Lord, boy!” he exclaimed, turn- ing upon the youth, his eyes flashing with in- dignation, ‘‘ what in fury did you throw that away fur? Now all is lost—see, the box is floating, and the demons will have it, papers and all,” Ed glanced back and saw that the box had fallen with the open sile up, and was floating slowly away at the will of the current. A yell of triumph burst from the lips cf the pursuers, for they saw the desperate act of the lugitive to conceal the papers. Go on; Wolverine,” said Ed, excitedly; “let us save our lives; never mind the papers. I have them safe in my pocket—I only threw the box away in ey of soos our pursuers.” ‘*Oh, you did?’ exclaimed Wolverine; ‘‘ wal now, that war dogged cute in you, voungster, for it ll be apt to give us a long lead.” They ran on and soon discovered that Ed’s ruse was working ogni Trimble and his men had mapred on the shore opposite the floating box; and by the time that they had found it was empty, the fugitives were a quar- ter of a mi’e ahead. “Now let’s make for Castle Island,” said Wolverine; ‘if that hidden bridge is still thar, we can keep Satan and his host at bay when once over on the island. Come along, Josie,” and he dashed off a-whistling. ‘* But how ll we git off?” asked Ed. “We'll manage that some way,” said Wol- verine. They ran on until they reached the Rapids, when Wolverina made a hasty examination of the condition of the wire foot-bridge. Findin it still in ition, he crossed over to the is an and signaled for Ed to follow by striking upon the wire hand-railing. In a few minutes they were safely landed upon the island; but they were not a minute 100 pee Trimble and his men were close be- ind. _Our friends hastily ascended the side of the little island, and sought shelter from the bul- lets of their excited and exasperated pursuers behind the ridge; yet maintaining a position where they could watch them, and prevent their crossing. The pursuers, however, seemed ful y awosre of the danger that would attend an attempt to cross the river; and after a short consultation they fell back into the woods and took up a position where they could watch the island and those upon it. They felt certain that they had treed their game, and that its capture was only a matter of time. They knew there was but one way of getting to and from the island, for Spencer had explained the whole secret of the foot-bridge to them; and this Trimble re- solved to guard until hunger drove tbe fugi- tives ashore, or until they surrendered those papers. ‘id Wolverine and Ed row had an opportu- nity to reflect upon their situation; and al- though they found it secure enough at the time, it promised nothing very flattering for the hee e talking th le ng the matter over, they were suddenly tasted by the sound of destabens be- hind them; and glancing around they were completely astonished to see two men approach- ing them. One of them was Obed aitiey, a teacher of Mennonite faith, whom, it will doubtless be remembered, we met once at the Five Points. The other was none other than Sandy Gray, the mail-carrier. Both were armed, and neither seemed aware of our two friends’ perenne until they were almost upon them. en Wolverine was the first to speak: ‘Hullo, here! that you, Sandy Gray and Obed — he exclaimed, raising sf from the groun ‘Yes, sir’ee, hossfly; this are me, Sandy Gray, U. 8. M. C., Esq.,” replied that worthy. ‘And this is me, friend Wolverine, plain Obed Smiley, of Barkopolis,” replied the - nonite, though he arpeared somewhat embar- rassed by his sudden rise. “It strikes me, Obed, you’re ser bt faith; I see you carry a rifle,” observed rine, facetiously. “Verily, friend Wolverine, the devil himself couldn’t keep his faith in this abominable coun- ‘Very true, Obed; your cranium’s about level on that; but do you know the pree-<dica- olve- 25 mint that we be in? that we’re jugged by a pack of freebooters?”’ ‘* Thee has jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire, I should think,” answered Obed. “That's it, prezactly; now can ye tell me how we are goin’ to git outen this—back into the pan?’ ‘“Yes; the best way you can,” was the la- conic reply. “Thank you!” replied Wolverine, sercastic- ally. ““@bed is given to jokin’ a great deal,” said Sandy, ‘‘but I'll bet he'll git you fellers cuten here slicker’n a greased eel. That’s Obed Emi- ley to a gnat’s heel.” ‘** Then Obed is at home here,” said Ed. ‘Never thee mind, young man,” replied Obed; ‘‘when night comes I will take thee en, ashore where thy enemies will not harm thee. ‘‘But the approaches to the castle are guard- ec, and it'll be impossible to scale the walis or swim the moat,” said Wolverine. “Never thee mind, I say; when darkness comes I will set thee ashore,” declared Obed. And when darkness did come the mysterious Obed Smiley kept his word, and took the two fugitives ashore by way of a secret passage opening on the west side of the island. CHAPTER XXIX. A FAMILY REUNION. GoLian STRONG, Frank Ballard and Nattie Darrell pushed rapidly in the direction cf the Blue Marsh after breaking camp on the Black river. A few hours’ walking brought them to the top of an eminence from whence they cc uld commend a wide view of the great marsh and country beyond. They saw thecabin nestled down among the pines, and the creek, that looked like a band of silver crossing the marsh, sparkling in the sum- mer sun. No life was visible about the cabin, but upon the creek two canoes, with three or four occupants each, were moving up the stream. “Hal” exclaimed Goliah, ‘“‘one of them is Captain Spencer. I wonder where they can be going?” ‘To the cabin of the cranberry-picker, I pre- sume,” answered Frauk. “They may go on past,” said Nattie; ‘‘ but as sure as they stop at the cabin, I'll think there is something unusual going on there.” ** And, look over yonder in the marsh,” said Goliah, his kcen, restless eye fixed upon a mov- ing object; ‘‘ what is that moving along so brisk among the bushes?’ ‘Tt appears to bea man,” responded TWattie; ‘but I can’t sce what he’s skulking around cut there for.” ““I see he carrics a rifle; he may be following a deer,” said Frank. ‘* Be that as it may,” replied Strong, ‘‘I see Spencer and his men have landed and gine up to the Lerryman’s house.” “ Then let us be moving,” added young Dar- rall, ‘for I’m afraid their visit there |! odes no good to the family of the old berry-pi ker.” They descended the hill and moved ip the creek until —— the cabin, when they come to a halt. Unfortunately, there was not a canoe on their side of the stream; Lut this diffi- culty was scon obviated by Nattie, who, c« fing his clothes, swam over to the opposite side, an boarding a canoe, quickly returned. As soon as he bad dcnned his clothing, the three cross- ed over and landed upon the island. The trees skirting the creek where they touched the island hid them frcm view cf tl] cse at the cabin; and when ready to advarme, Go- liah Strong said: “‘T telieve I will wait here, boys, until] you have cxamined the situation. o not Cesire to go to the cabin just yet; though, if you should meet with any trovble caj] me.” “ All right,” replied Nattie; and ke and Frenk started toward the cabin. Goliah Strong, with his rifle under his arm began pacing oP and down the creek in meta deliberation. His eyes were bent dow1 ward, though now and then he would glance a1 xious- ly and longingly toward the cabin. Tin min- utes had thus passed when he was stcdenly started by the sound of footsteps, and looking up he found himself face to face with a \. oman; and that woman was his own wife! " arent y 3 Oh, my own darling Margery!” the great man cried, dropping his gun :nd ad- vancing toward the pale, sad-faced wom: n. ** Ambrose!” was the only word that escaped the lips of the woman we have known rs Mrs. Zane, as she fell fainting in the arms: of kcr husband. , Goliah imprinted kiss after kiss uycn ber white, unconscious cheeks, while tears «f joy chased down his bearded face. Then he lifted the inanimate form in his arms, and corrying it down to the water’s edge, bathed thi white brow and throbbing temples. Gradue] iy the ished , and almost extingu spark was rekind): Margery Belmont recovered her consci: usness, eye the name of him who be).| over Silence sealed their lips for some 1 ments after her recovery, 8 completely were they
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26 — The Gisnt Riflomarl overwhelmed with emotions of joy and sur- prise; though a senso of each other’s feelings formed a silent conversation that tonguo could not express—it was that strange language of tho heart. Goliah Strong, as we will continue to call the big detectivo for tho present, was the first to break tho silenco of that blissful moment, and open a conversation that la-ted for nearly an heur. Wo wil not attempt to repeat what was eid, nor describo tho infinite joy of that meet- ingzafter ten long yoars of cruel scparaticn. Tho reader already Imows the causo of their parting, cs narrated by Goliah himsclf. iad the samo words been spoken ten years aco they now uttered; bad tho samo feeling of heart been manifested, they could havo escaped thoso years cf miscry and sorrow. But Mar- gery acted from a senso of fear and shame, and under the impulse cf tho moment sho fled that | her husband might never reproach ker for | crimes of which she was as innocent as an un- | born bate. IIer enemy, or rather her hus- band’s enemy, had so cffectnally turned tho finger of public scorn against her that tho very sight cf a friend filled her soul with fear and | hatred of the whole world: and it was only tho love which she hore her child and father that ever provented ker from filling a suicide’s grave. Thus the falschocd of en enemy and her own rash act of desertion cost years and years of measureless woe. Sho concealed herself so care- fully from the world that she had never heard of the death of ber slanderer, and his confession of her innocence until sho heard it from the lips ef her husband. ” Ler lips when he tokl her; the cloud that had so long obscured her hapy iness rolled away, and the sunlight of a new life bursé in upcn her heart. In a few brief words she told him how, with her old father, they had lived under assumed | numesin the Blue Marsh, waiting only upon the wheel of t'mo to decide their fate. “Then that little fairy who calls herself Ida | Zane is our child?’ Goliah remarked. wife replied, lifting her eyes to his. “T thought she favored my Margery very much; and the moment 1 saw her something | told meshe was my child. I finally learned through Nattie Darrall that there were books in your cabin witi tho name of Ambrose Bel- montin them; and then I knew 1 had found my lost darlings.” ‘Poor little Ida, she is—but I am ashamed totcll you, Ambrosa, for fear you will beangry.” | ‘\No, no, Margery; nothing shall ever come | Speak out; between our happiness again. what of my little Zoe?” ‘She was to bave been married to-day.” ‘* Married?’ exclaimed the father, ‘‘my chi'd married? Gnieat God forbid! she is but a child!” ‘*t know it, Ambrose,” the wife sobbed, bit- terly; ‘“‘but tatber is getting very old, and I knew he would not last much longer. I felt that with him gone we would be helpless in Acry of joy burst from | this cruel world, and soI was desirous of sece- | ing Ida in a permauent home of her own.” “To whom is she to be married?’ * Captain Randolph Spencer.” | of her power and triumph, stood proudly before ward the cabin. hill, he asked: ‘Is Spencer’s wife not afraid to confront him if he has attempted to murder her before?” ‘“She says she is not—that she defies him , now. She claims that an invisible, yet earth- ly power, is watching over her,” replied Mrs, | Belmont. ** What can that power be?” “Thave no idea whatever, Ambrose. I am suro we knew nothing of the coming of any one but Spencer and bis friends.” “Well, we will doubtless know soon what } sho meant; but I see the captain and bis | friends, and my two friends, have adjourned to the open air, and are reclining under the trees in front of the house,” and Goliah, peer- ing through an opening in the foliage, scrutin- ized each man closely. ‘ Perhaps,” he con- tinued, ‘ I had better approach the ce bin alone, Margery, for fear the captain takes the alarm. Te is talking and laughing like a gay young cavalier.” “Very well, husband; then Ida and I will goon to the house,” replied Margery, and then she and Ida went on to the cabin, their faces | radiant with joy. few minutes later Goliah Strong joined the party lounging on the green grass beneath | the umbrageous pines. Captain Spencer evinced some surprise at | his presence tnere at that time, though he en- | As they slowly ascended the | be. Running Deer was happy once, for he had a dusky bride fair as any in al] the tribes of the north-west. We lived ina cabin, as the white man lives, in the valley of the Muskegon. In the day, I labored hard with my red and white friends, cutting logs in the woods for the mills on the great Jake; and when the night came, my child played at my feet and my wife sung to me | and I forgot my weariness, We had all lkarned to read and write, and so looked beyond the narrow limits of the red man’s life into the great world of knowledge, We were happy— very happy. Five other families lived in our settlement. S ome of the men were white with Indian wives: Lut all were good and happy. We lifted our hands against no one, for we con- sidered all our brothers. We loved our women because they were good, kind helpmeets. We had preaching once a month in our settlement and all had learned to Mths Gi d. We passe laws for self-protection as white men did, and we wrote them upon papers. One of the Jaws read: ‘If any man insults or cffers to insult the wife or daughter of bis neighbor, or of any one entitled to respect, he shal] receive not Jess than one hundred nor more than one hundred and fifty lashes for the first offense; and double that amount for the second.’ . The object in this was to compel respect for woman, such as the Indian never has for his wife. ‘*One day, years ago, a great white man—a man of whom you’d think better—came to the deavored to conceal his emotion in a pleasant | Bullrush settlement, as we called our place, and and well-affected tone. pains to conceai his dislike and contempt for | the villain be knew him to be, and addressed | his remarks to Frank and Nattie, as well as Spencer’s friends, in such a way as to almost ignore the presence of the captain. They had conversed a few minutes longer, But Goliah took little | asked for bread and meat to feed his dogs. The woman told him kindly that she had none to spare and expressed her regrets at having to re- fure him. He called her a liar, then struck her over the shoulders with his riding-whip, and even kicked ber. We all became enraged at this brutal insult: we caught thé man, pave him when another person—a sanctimonicus-looking | a trial and sentenced him to receive fifty lashes entleman—came from the cabin and jecined | on the naked back—but half the lawful penalty. hem, Nearly all recognized bim as the mis- sionary stationed at Alleghan. “Captain Spencer,” he said, addressing that | | gentleman as though no others were present, | “Yes, our little Zoe, Ambrose,” the happy | **I am very sorry, indeed, to be compelled to say that I cannot solemnize your marriage with Miss Ida Zane.” Spencer’s face grew white and red by turns, and a look of indignation flashed in his cold, cruel eyes as he replied: ‘* What reasons have you for saying this?” “Very good reasons—yea, grave reasons, sir; I am informed that you already have a wife living.” ‘It’s a lie!” exclaimed the captain, growing porn in the face; ‘I had a wife, but she is car ‘Oh, no, Henry, she is not dead,” said a voice | behind him, and Edith Mount stepped from | behind an evergreen and confronted him— brave, fearless and wondrously beautiful in her | defiance and triumph; ‘* you made a very poor shot, Henry. I was only wounded.” Captain Spencer glared upon her with blaz- ing a his teeth became set; his fists clenched, and his very soul seemed transformed into that of a demon of rage and mad fury. Editb, calm and self-possessed, and conscious him as if inviting, daring him to repeat bis | “My God! that monstrous villain? Why, | oft-attempted acts of violence. But. he seemed | Margery. 1, a Government detective, have a | perfectly poweriess to act; he regained his pe of bandcuffs in my pocket for that man. | power of speech, huwever, and in the tone of a | e is the most notorious villuin that ever went _ coward replied: | uvhung!” ‘*T know it, Ambrose, I found it out yester- day. He already has a wife—she is here now to confront him; and I came out here to quiet a aching throbbing brain and think | ver what I should tell him when we met. He is at the cabin now. He came just as I left.” ‘“*My dear Margery,” said ber husband, ‘I will relieve you ot your trouble. I will speak for My Ah! yonder comes Zoe, our little angel girl.” da came walking briskly down the des wooded slope looking for her mother. When she came sudcenly upon her and the big hun- ter she started back amazed: but her mother promptly relieved her of all fears by saying: . “Come here, Ida; come, child, and greet our father, Ambrose Beimont, of whom I ve told you so often.” lda was completely dumbfounded. For a moment she seer ed undecided whether to flee or advance; but finally mastering her emo- tions she approached her father who, kneel- ing, receiv her childish, impassioned ca- _ Tesses. Ida and her mother both wept with joy, and Goliah, rising to bis feet, held his child at arm’s Jengih and gazing fondly into her sweet young: face wept and Jaughed by turns, Then 1e fo Bis cup of joy was running over. been fully repaid by the infinite joy of that re- union. CHAPTER XXX. WHO WAS THE UNKNOWN MARKSMAN? Wirn Ida upon the other, ; gentleman coming yonder is another of her ad- | mirers,” | stopped in front of the crowd and leaned his | moment’s pause, ‘‘as the bearer of news to 211 | here—news that will make many wonder. Wii mone side and her mother | liah Strong finally turned to- day; and all that are not-happy w ed both wife and daughter to bis throb- | all sat down upon the green sward to hear his bing beart and muttered a prayer of thanks. story He felt | mained standing, or rather leaning, against a that the sorrows and troubles of the past had tree, his arms crossed and his face wearing a frowning look, sullen as a thunder-cloud. A ‘*Woman!—devil, what are you to me? You are no wife of mine. You are an adventuress— a vile—’ | ‘Hold your tongue, Spencer!” cried Frank | Ballard, indignantly; ‘“‘ you are taiking to a woman, sir, and you shall not insult ber!” and | he rose to his feet. ‘Ha! you are her self-constituted protector, I presume?” sneered Speucer; ‘* very likely that The person alluded to was an Indian: and it required no second glance to tell the assembly that ic was Running Deer, the mail-carrier. On his shoulder he carried his double-Larreled rifle, and under his arm his mail-bag. “Tt strikes me,” said Goliah Strong, as he came up, “that you are getting off your track, are you not, Running Deer?” ‘Running Deer knows where he treads,” answered the Indian, in a tone greatly at variance with his usual taciturnity, as he en against a tree, and hung his muail-bag on a imb. “I have come,” he continued, after a all listen to what I have to tell?” “Yes! yes!’ was the general response, and Not all, either, for Captain Spencer re- storm of passion was brewing within his breast. A. deep silence fell wpon the crowd. - It was broken by Running Deer, who n: “There are no doubt many happy poor e to- like to But because he was a great man we showed him some leniency.” Here Running Deer paused, almost choked down by bis emotions. Goliah a noticed that Captain Spencer was also moved by the Indian’s words; but it was not by emotions of sorrow—it was the most malicious and cemon- | iac spirit of savage vengeance that ever sat upon human countenance. In a moment the Indian continued: ** We punished the white man for his cow- ardly treatment of our neighbor’s wife, and it would have becn better for many had the pen- alty been death. Months went by, and we all supposed the matter was forgotien. We built a great dam across the stream by the Bullrush settlement to sid in fleating our logs down to the big river when the water was low and the current teeble. ‘there were fish in our river, and upon tbis was*our chief depencence for food. We fished with rod and line, and every few nights after our day’s work was done, ve tcok our wcmen and children and went out on the river in boats to fish. One night when the moon shone bright, and the stars were cut all over the summer sky, we went cut to fish Lelow the dam. Our women and children were with us as usual. Two men were away from home at the time, but their familics accom- anied us on the water. We left our Jamps urning in our cabins, and our cattle in their sheds. The night wasa glorious one, and we were all happy and joyous. Our children made merry in ripples of laughter, and our wives sung the traditionary songs of our forefathers’ love. As if attracted by the scene of Jove and song the fish came ercund us in abundance; and cur wants were nearly all supplied when we leard a plosh in the water, anda friend of ours, who dwelt in the camp of some white lumber- meh, swam out to us and told us to flee—that ceath was near. But it was too late. Nine men—one of them the man we bad punished jer striking our neigbbor’s wife—cane sudden- ly and with their united strength tore open the fivodgates of the Bullrush dem and hurled an avalanche of water, logs and d«biis upon us. The friend who came to wern us, that woman v ho was living with ber brother, Edith Mount, end myself were all that escaped—the others were all drowned: and even our Indian friend died in a few days of injuries received that night, and so Edith and | were the cnly two that survived the flood. I found the body of my wife and child next day far down the river where the cruel torrent had thrown them upon the bank. “The two friends that were away at the time of the tragedy, came home to find their wives and children gone—all dead and blistering in the sun along the Black river. The terrible news almost killed them, for they loved their families. One of them was the brother of Edith. Our sorrow wes more than luman nature could bear and finally turned to ven- geance, and we resolved to purish the destroy- ers of our homes. We knew every man of them, for the friend who came to warn us told me after the flood, and before he died, their names. Most of them were Canadians and In- dian half-itreeds—born outlaws, you might say, without whom the world would be better cf, As I was an unerring shot I became the chief actor in the terrible drama. Like an evil
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- P a oro spirit have I followed these men. I engaged to carry the mail to All-ghan that no one might mistrust my designs of revenge; and whenever one of the doomed men crossed my path, I shot him down.” “ By Judas!” exclaimed a lamberman, “then you are the Unknown Marksmani” “‘T am!” was the firm response. Captain Spencer started, pale, nervous and terrified. His brain grew dizzy, and his hand trembled. ““Who wonld ever have thought such a meek soul as Running Deer was the Destroyer?” said Goliah, glancing over the crowd of astounded men. > “T have played my part well,” said the In- dian, ‘‘ and Pith the help of my friends have 1 wreaked a bloody revenge on the inhuman devils. But one of them still lives; and that is the man we punisbed for striking our neighbor’s wife. Heis before you. It is that man. He raised his finger oe est tain Spencer, his eyes glowing with an un- pin light. Spencer, if e the coward he was, seemed ready to sink intotheearth, He was appalled by the Indian’s revelation, ‘or he believed every soul of the Bullrush settlement had perished in the awful flood that he and his companions had hurled upon them. Recovering his speech, however, he replied with a savage emphasis: * “Ruuning Deer, you are a liar! ‘ ; ‘‘T know whereof I speak,” the Indian said, taking up his rifle, ‘and with my vengeance fully glutted I am ready to join my wife and child in the happy hunting-grounds.’ Before any one could interfere, he threw the muzzle of his gun forward and glancing along the barrel, shot Captain Spencer dead! Then he set his gun down, calmly folded his arms across his breast and turned toward the crowd. The next instant he fell dead, himself, riddled by a dozen bullets from the revolvers of the eaptain’s men. Age thus perished the Unknown Marksman! CHAPTER XXXI. THE CLOUDS DISPELLED. RounninG DEER was the last person any one would ever have suspected of being the terror of the Black river—the Unknown Marksman; and his confession and the tragedy that fol- lowed created the wildest excitement in front of the old berry-picker’s cabin. The lumbermen became greatly enraged over the death of their leader, and finding nothing but the body of Running Deer upon which to vent their spite, they finally made ominous threats against Raith Mount, accusing her of being an accomplice of the avenger’s. Buthere Goliah Strong and his friends interfered and ve the infuriated men to anderstand that ey would resent any insult offered the wo- man, at the cost of their lives, This proved an unexpected check to their un- bridled fury, and with direful mutterings against the big hunter and all his friends, they finally departed for Camp Spencer with the body of their chief. , The body of Running Deer was interred up- on the island with some ceremony, and thus a funeral, instead of a wedding, had been the event of that memorable day on the Blue arsh. Curiosity led our friends to examine the clumsy-looking double-barreled rifle that the red mail-carrier had possessed. To their sur- prise, they found that one barrel was of a very small bore, though at the muzzle each bore was of uniform size—large enough for an ounce ball. But not over six inches from the muzzle —just far enough in to escape detection by the e—there was a shoulder or off-set; and it was there that the small bore began, and from this were thrown those small copper bullets with that unerring certainty that made the Un- known Marksman a mortal terror. But, where were his bullets? They had searched his pockets and mail-bag, and in fact every place where a bullet might be concealed, but they found nothing save a few large leaden Ils. eaaith Mount, who had watched their move- ments and listened to their remarks of wonder and re Ay: now came forward and suggested that Goliah cut one of the leaden mane, found on Running Deer’s person, in two. This he did, and to the surprise of all, a small copper bullet was found in the center of the leaden one. Had Spencer been alive and seen this, he would have known where those bullets were molded—that the man whom he saw engaged with bellows, forge and crucible, the night he was upon Castile land, was casting those lead- covered missiles of death. _ It appeared that the rifle had been made ressly for these men’s scheme of vengeance, and the idea of the lead-covered co a bullet adopted to elude detection—the lea ng cut away when a small bullet was wanted. When- ever he had cage ab epee rotolmeg a aay nt of veng . ) ‘oad ) bored barrel with a full-sized ba The whole outfit was in ous as its owner’s vengeance bad been connie The Giant Rifleman. Old Smiley, the Mennonite teacher, turned out to be Edith Mount’s brother; and what part he took in avenging the deaths of the Bullrush tragedy, will never be known to anyone save the actual icipauts and God, for th’s lips were sealed. That Sandy Gray and Gershom Bland were also accomplices of Running Deer, there was not a doubt in the minds of any; for it will be remembered that the deadly rifle was once in the possession of Sandy Gray, who claimed he had traded for it; but took the opportunity to trade back again the night they happened in Pokahgan’s camp. As further evidence of their complicity in the matter, they both resign- ed their commissions of mail-carriers soon aft2r Running Deer’s death, and left for parts un- own, Castle Island had been the head-quarters of this terrible League of Vengeance, and that Edith was ang A cognizant of all that was going on, there was little doubt, for she, too, hada vengeance to gratify. But, be this as it may, the mystery of the Unknown Marksran was solved, and whatever of wrong poor Edith had to do witk it, she rendered an account of the same at the bar of God soon after the great mystery had been exposed to the world. ‘Th suffering, excitement, exposure and privations of the past two months had proved too much for her delicate strength; and when all was over, and she was about to begin life anew, the relapse brought on nervous prostration, and she took sick of lung fever, and after a lingering illness, died in the arms of him to whom she had plighted her first love, Frank Ballard. Goliah Strong at once removed his family from the Blue Marsh to their old home; then went back to complete his labors in the Michi- gau woods. In company with Old Wolverine and a number of police officers they proceeded to Camp Spencer and made several arrests of persons known to be engaged in the counter- teiting business, of which Spencer bud been their leader. They also visited the Shingle- Weavers’ camp south of the settlement and arrested all three of the men there, whom Goliah had found out were engravers and printers, instead of Shingle-Weavers. With these men, they took several plates of fine workmanship; and in fact, all the tools that a thoroughly organized gang of counterfeiters could g! need. From the Shingle-Weavers’ camp the detec- tives went to the big tree left standing in the clearing back of Camp Spencer—the same tree that had aroused Strong’s suspicion the night they followed Spencer to the retreat of his en- gravers. In the tree, which was without an external blemish, the counterfeiters had chisel- ed out a large square hole in which was insert- ed a drawer. e outside of this drawer had been so ingeniously covered with the bark of the block cut away, that one would never have noticed it, had they not been looking for some- thing of the kind. In this secret repository ed found several hundred dollars of spurious Is, With his prisoners and the evidence of their crimes, Goliah returned to South there arresting James Trimble, Spencer’s part- ner in rascality and crime, he took all aboard a steamer, and carrying them to Chicago delivered them into the hands of justice. And | | / ven, and | | | = BEADLE & ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS. Speakers. BEADLE AND ADAMS have now on their lists the fol- lowing highly desirable and attractive text-bools, prepared ee for schools, families, etc. Fach volume contains 100 large pages, printed from clear, open t , comprising the legues y= Riese and Recitations, (burlesque, ecmic and otherwise.) The Dime Speakers for the season of 1880—as far as now issued—embrace tweuty-tLiece volumes, viz.: est collection of Lia- 1, American Speaker. 13. School Speaker. 2. National Speaker. 14. J udicrous Speaker. 3. Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker. 4. Comic Speaker. 16. Youth's Speak er. 5. Elocutionist. 17. Eloquent Speaker. 6. Humorous Speaker. | 18. Hail Columbia Speak 7. Standard Speaker. er. ; 8. Stump Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic &peaker. 9. Juvenile Speaker. 20, Select “] eaker. 10. Spread-Eagle Speaker | 21. Funny Speaker, 11. Dime Debater. 22. Jolly £peaker. 12, Exhibition Speaker. 283. Dialect Speaker. These books are rep’ete witu choice pieces for the School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes, ete. They are drawn from FRESH sources, and contain some of the choicest oratory of the times. 75 to 100 Declama- € | tions and Recitations in each book. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages,em- ° brace twenty-six books, viz.: Dialogues No. One. | Dialogues No, Fourteen, Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No. Sixteen. Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues No, Seventeen, Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues No. Kighteen Dialogues No. Six. Dialogues No. Nineteen. Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues No. Twenty. Dialogues No. Eight. Dialogues No. Twenty-one. Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues No, Twenty-two. Dialogues No. Ten. Dialogues No, Twenty-three Dialogues No, Eleven. | Dialogues No. Twenty-four. Dialogues No, Twelve, | Dialogues No. Twenty-five. Dialogues No. Thirteen. | Dialogues No. Twenty -six. 15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book. These volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability in all school-rooms. They are adapted to schools with or without the fur- niture of a stage, and introduce a ew of charac- ters suited to scholars of every grade, both male and female. It is fair to assume ‘that no volumes yet offered to schools, at any price, contain so many available and useful dialogues and dramas, sericus and comic. Dramas and Readings. 164 12mo Pages. 2 Cents. For Schools, Parlors, Entertainments and the Am- ateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas, Comedy, Farce, Dress Pieces, Humorous Dizlogue and Burlesque, by noted writers; and Recitaticns and Readings, new and standard, of the greatest celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof, A. M. Russell. DIME HAND-BOOKS. Young People’s £eries. BeaDie’s Diwe Hanp-Booxrs ror Yorre Prortz cover a wide range of subjects, and are especially adapted to their end. They constitute at once the cheapest and most useful works yet put into the market for popular circulation. Ladies’ Letter-Writer. Pook of Games. Gents’ Letter-Writer. Fortune-Teller. Book of Etiquette. Lovers’ Casket. Book of Verses. Ball-roum Companion. Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty, Hand-Books of Games. Brap.e’s Dire Hann-Books or Games AND Popular thus, one of the most notorious bands of coun- | Haxp-Booxs cover a variety of subjects, and are es- terfeiters that ever infested the north-west was | pecially px “ee to their end. broken up and its agents punished. Nattie Harrall returne bo States; for he had not only received the papers from Ed Mathews that made him rich, but he had also received the promise from Ida Zane that she would some day+when both had grown older—be his wife. At the next general term of probate court, he presented the notes and mortgage that had been stolen years before from his father, and with the evidence of Goliah Strong, he had no difficulty in obtaining a decree of foreclosure: and ina short time the vast tract of timber-land owned by Spencer and Trimble was sold to satisfy the judgment, now amounting to nearl a harired thousand dollars, 4 ers Nattie did not forget the friends who had | aided him in recovering the rs; and whe he found himself in pommendon of, great wealth, he bestowed a handsome {ttle sum upon Ed and Frank, as well as Goliah and Old Wolver- ine. Thus ended the bee-hunters’ career in the wild woods of Michigan; and although they often recount the days and nights of peril and adventure that they had passed while there, and brow over a as ar a dream, they never had cause t that they b been bee-hunters. se i J me Old Welverine is still one of the permanent “fixtures” of the eae: coe woods; and as he | is no mythical being, and age is gradually sap- ping away the vitality of his once powertal orm, we may oy oo at any time, to hear of a familiar his being, in the language of his own song, away— “Over the hills and far away.” } Til. Vee Allen. , ess Instructor. Riding and Driving. in ten | Cricket and Football. Book of Pedestrianism. Guide to Swimming. Base-Ball Player for 1880. Handbook of Winter Sorts. Manuals for Housewives, Beapie’s Dove Famity Series aims to supply a class of text-books and manuals fitted fur every per- son’s use—the old and the young, the Jearned and the unlearned. They are of conceded value. 1. Cook Book. 4. Family Physician. 2. Recipe Book. 5. Dressmaking and Mil- 3. Housekeeper’s Guide. linery. Lives of Great Americans. Are presented complete and authentic biographies of many of the men who have added Juster to the fame ee ic by their lives and deeds. The series em. races: I,—George Washington. | VIT.—David Crockett. T1.—John Paul Jones. VITII.—Tsrael Putnam, —MadAnthonyWayne| I[X.—Kit Carson. X.—Tecumseh, XI,—Abraham Lincoln, XIT.—Pontiac. XI1.—Ulysses 8. Grant. —Marquis de Lafay- ette. V1.—Daniel Boone. SONG EOOKS. BEADLE’s Die Sone Boors, Nos. 1 to 28, containing pular collection of copyright songs to be Melodist, School Melodist, : Music and Words. JOKE BOOKS. Pocket Joke Book. Jim Paddy Whack Joke i ae The shore publications for sale by all newsdenlers or sent. post-paid, ef BEADLE & ADAMS, bs Wiutan uot yee by
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" 82 Large Three-Column Pages. 1.A Ward Crowd; orn, Gentleman Sau’s Sister. By Philip S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil; or, Ture WINGED Wircu oF THE Sea, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 3. Kit Carson, Jr., Tur Crack SHorT oF THe West. By Buckskin Sam. 4. The Kidnapper; or, Toe Great SHANGHAI oF THE NortHwestT. By Philip S. Warne. 5. The Fire-Fiends; or, HERCULES, THE Huncupack. By A. P. Morris, 6. Wildcat Bob, Tue Boss Brorser; | or, Tae BorDER BLoopHounns. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 7. Death-Notch, ThE Destroyer; oR, Tur Sprrrr Lake Avencers. By Oll Coomes. 8. The Headless Horseman, A strange story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 10. Vidocq, THz Frencn Pouice Spy. Written by himself. 11. Midshipman Easy. ryat. 12. The Death-Shot; or, TRACKED TO DratH. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 13. Pathaway; on, Nick WHIFFLEsS, THE OxLp TRAPPER OF THE NORTHWEST, By Robinson, 14, Thayendanegea, Tur Scourar; on, THE WAR-EAGLE oF THE Monawks. Ned Buntline. 15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, EaG.s- Heap To THE Rescugr. By Gustave Aimard. 16. The White Wizard; or, THe Great PROPHET oF THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline. 17. Nightshade, Tar Rosser Prince or Hounstow Hratu. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. By Capt. Mar- i8. The Sea Bandit; or, Tor QuEeENn or THE Iste. By Ned Buntline, 19. Red Cedar, Tur Pram OvrLaw. By Gustave Aimarc. 20. The Bandit at Bay; or, Tre Pr- RATES OF THE Prarrics. By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter; Tue Ovor.aw’s Fare. By Gustave Aimard, 22. Whitelavz: or, Natriz oF THE Lake SHore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, 23. The Red Warrior; or, STELLA De.Lorme’s Comancue Lover. By Ned Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of “ Tiger-Slayer,” ete. 25. The Gold-Guide; or, Stren Arm, tHe Reavutator. By Francis Johnson, 26. The Death-Track; or, THe Ovt- Laws oF THE Mountain. By Francis Johnson, 27. The Spotter-Detective; or, Tux Gms or New Yor. By Albert W. Aiken. OR, | 28. Three-Fingered Jack, THe Roap- AGENT or THE Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 29. Tiger Dick, Tae Faro Kino; or, Tae CasHier’s Crome. By Philip S. Warne. 30. Gospel George; or, Fiery Frep, Tue Ovtrtaw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 31. The New York ‘Sharp ;’ on, Tre Fiasu or Licgutnine. By Albert W. Aiken. 32. B’hoys of Yale; or, Tae Scraprs or A Harp Ser or Cotuecians. By John D. Vose. 33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken. 34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken. 35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Aiken. 36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 37. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, THe SWORDMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 38. Velvet Hand; or, Tue [Ron Grip or Ingon Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 39. The Russian Spy; or. Txr Brors- ERS OF THE STaRRY Cross. By erick Whittaker. 40. The Longe Haired ‘ Pards;’ or, Tur TaRTARS OF THE PLains. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 41. Gold Dan: on, THe Wuire Savace or THe Great Saut LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken. 42. The California Detective: or, Tar Wircues or New Yors. By Albert W. Aiken. 43. Dakota Dan, THE RECKLEss RANGER; | or, Tay Bre-Hunrers’ Excursion. By Oll Coomes. | 44, Old Dan Rackback, Tur Great EXTaRMINATOR. By Oll Coomes, 45. Old Bull’s Eye, Tur Licutrnine Sor oF tHe Piains, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, Tue Little Hunter or tHe Nor’-west, By Ol] Coomes, 449. Pacific Pete, THE Prince oF THE REvoLveR, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr, 48. Idaho Tom, Tur Youna OvTLAW OF SILVERLAND. By Oll Coomes, 49. 'The Wolf Demon; or, THE QUEEN OF THE Kanawna. By Albert W. Aiken. 50. Jack Rabbit, THe Prarmim Sport; By Jos. I. Badger, Jr. 51, Red Rob, Tue Boy Roap-AGEnT. By Oll Coomes., 52. Death Trailer, THe Curer or Scours. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) 58. Silver Sam; or, THE MystERY oF Dealiwoop Ciry. By Col. Delle Sara. 54, Always on Hand; or, Tut Sportive Srorr or THE oor H:itis, By Philip 8. Warne. 55. The Scalp Hunters. A ROMANCE OF THE Piains. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 56. The Indian Mazeppa; or, THE Map Man of Tur Prarns. By Albert W. Aiken. 57. The Silent Hunter: or, Tur ScowL Hat. Mystery. By Percy B, St. John. 58. Silver Knife; or, WICKLIFFE, THE Rocky Mountain Rancer. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 59. The Man From Texas: or, THE OUTLAW OF ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken. 60. Wide Awake; or. Tue |pIOT OF tue Buack Hitts. By Frank Dumont. 61. Captain Seawaif, THe PRIVATEER. By Ned Buntline. 62. Loyal Heart; or, Tut TRaPPrrs oF ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard, 63. The Winged Whale, By Aiken. 64. Ponbler Sight, the Death Shot. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 65. ‘Lhe Red Rajah; or, Tre Scource or THE INDIEs. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 66. The Specter Barque. A Tae or THE Paciric. By Captain Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy Jockey; or, Honesty versus CrookepNness, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 68. The Fighting Trapper; or, Kit CARSON TO THE REscuE. By Capes. F. C, Adams. 69. The Irish Captain; A Tate or Fontenoy. By Captain Frederick Whittaker, 70. Hydrabad; Tue StTRANGLYR: or, ALETHE, THE CHILD oF THE Corp. By Robinson. 71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, THz MAN SHARK OF THE Mississippi. \ By Jos. BE. Badger, Jr. 72. The Phantom Hand, A Srory or New York Hearts anp Homes, By A, W. Aiken. 73. The Knight of the Red Cross; or, THe MAGIcIAN oF GranApa. Dr, J. H. Robinson. 74. Captain of the Rifles. A Romance oF THE Mexican VautEey. By Captain Mayne Reid. 75. Gentleman George, or, PARLOR, Prison, STAGE AND StREET. By Albert W. Aiken. 76. Ths Queen’s Musketeer: or, Tuispr, THE Princess Patmist. By George Albony. 77. The Fresh of Frisco; or, Tne Hemess of Buenaventura. By Albert W. Aiken. 78. The Mysterious Spy; or, GOLDEN FearHer, THE BuccaNcer’s Daventer. By Grainger. 79. Joe Phenix, tur Poticr Spy. By Albert W. Aiken. 80. A Man of Nerve; or, CALIBAN, | Tar Dwarr. By Philip 8. Warne. 81. The Human Tiger; or, A HEART or Fire. By Albert W. Aiken. 8%. Teo. Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 83. Gold Bullet Snort: or, THE KNIGHTS OF THE OveRLAND. By Buffalo Bill 84, Hunted Down; or, tos WHITE | Wrron. By Albert W, Aiken. _— oe aS eee Each Number Complete, Price 10 cts, | 85. The Cretan Rover; or, ZULEIKAR THE BeautircL. By Col. Prentiss ngraham, 86. The Big Hunter; or, THE QuEm OF THE Woops. By the author of ‘ Siient Hunter.” 87. The Scarlet Crptain; cor, TH PRISONER OF THE TowER. By Col. Delle Sara. 88. Bie George, Tur GIANT OF THY Guicx; or, Tne Five OurLaw Broruers. By Ba/ger. 89. The Pirate Prince; or, Pretty NELLY, THE QUEEN OF THEIsLE. By Col. Ingrahem 90, Wild Will, Trm Map RancuHeEry; or, Tus Terriste Texan. By Buckskin Sam. 91. The Winning Oar; or, THE Inn KEEPER’s Daveuter, By Albert W. Aiken. 92. Buffalo Bill, Taz Buckskin Kiny By Major Dangerfield Burr. 93. Captaia Dick Talbot, Kine o7 THE Roap. By Albert W. Aiken. 94. Freelance, THE BUCCANEER; or, Tha Walr oF THr Wave. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 95. Azhort, THE Axman; or, THE SEcRoTS oF THE DucaL PaLAce, Ly Anthony P. Morris, 96. Double-Death; or, Tor Spy QuEEN or Wyomina. Py Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 97. Bronze Jack, Tur CALIFORNIA TuHorovaHereD. By A. W. Aiken. 98. The Rock Rider; or, Trn Sprair OF THE Sierra. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, 99. The Giant Rifleman; or, WiLp Lirz IN THE LUNBuR Recions, By Ol] Coomes. 100. The French Spy: or, TEE Brg ov age A Story of the Commune, By A. P. or 101, The Man from New York; or, Tue RoMANcE OF A Rich Youne Woman, By Albert W. Aiken, 102. The Masked Band; cr, Tur Man Wrrsovt A Name. By George L. Aiken, 103. Merle, the Mutineer; or, Taz Branv or tHe Rep Ancuor. By Col. P. Ingraham. 104, Montezuma, the Merciless; o., Tae EaGLe AND THE SERPENT. By Col, P. Ingraham 105. Dan Brown of Denver, Tir Rocky Mountain Detective. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 106. Shamus O’Brien, Tur BouLp Boy oF GLINGAL; or, Irish Hearts anp InisH Homes, By Colonel Delle Sara, 107. Richard Talbot of Cinnabar; yu Se BROTHERS OF THE Rep Hann, By Albert W. 108. The Duke of Diamonds; or, Tux FLower or Catcutta. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker, 109. Captain Syd, Tue Kine or tar Buack Frac. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 110. The Silent Rifleman. A Tale of the Texan Plains. By Henry W. Herbert, 111. The Smuggler Captain; or, Tux Sxrpper’s Crive. By Ned Buntline. 112. Joe Phenix, Private Detective; * re LEAGUE OF THE SKELETON Knys. By Albert ° ken, 113. The Sea Slipper: or, THz Ama- TEUR FreesootTers. By Prof. J. H. Ingraham. 114, Gentlemen from Pike; or, Tux Guost or tHe Canyon. By Philip S. Warne. 115. The Severed Head; or, Tue Secret or CasTLeE Coucy. By Cot ed. Whittaker. Fr ady January 5th, 116. The Devil of the Sea; or, Tur Sorceress oF Het1-Garr. By Col. P. Ingraham. Ready Januacy A new tssue every week. Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of twelve cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.