Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 156) (1887 01 05)
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No. 98 WILLIAM St., New YorE, Five Cents. i Beadl Vol. Ll. 82,50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, Price, No. 156. NESS XK Yy\ ij - = } S Sa DESPITE THE DEAR BURDEN THAT LAY UPON HIS BREAST, WiLL WILDFIRE DISCHARGED ALMOST 4 BANDOM SHOT IN THE DIRECTION OF THe FLY-NG FUGITIVE,
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Will Wildfire in ihe Woods: Camp Life in the Alleghanies. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR oF “ame meRny,” “BLACK BESS,” “ WILL WILDFIRE,” ‘‘ HANDSOMS HARRY,” ‘ DETECTIVE DIOK,”’ ETC., ETO. CHAPTER I. AN ARCHERY MATCH, Tim sun shone warmly down upon the broad East Meadows, as the wide grassy mead was called, so brilliant now with the gay multitude gathered upon its verdant surface, On either side a streted of woodland walled in the seene, declining on the south to a hawthorn hedge, and on the north to a suallow brawling creek, beyond which a thicket of oak and hazel closed the prospec’. It was, indeed, a csarming silvan retreat, shut in with green walls from the outer world, and with the beams of an Oetobersun pouring the genial warmth of the Indian summer weather upon its verdant confines. The sound of loud and merry voices filled the air, from the gayly-dressed throng of ladies and gentle- men who occupied this green recess of nature. The rattling of quivers, hung with silken scarfs from their shoulders, and the sharp twang of bow-strings, revealed the fact that this was a meeting for the ex- ercise of the old and honorable art of archery, The sams fact was evidenced by the broad target, which stood near the eastern forest, with an arrow still ae just inside the outermost of its concentric circles, The archers were gathered on a smooth spot near the creek, and were warmly criticising the effect of this last shot. “Who is next?” criad one. a bright haired, blue- eyed maiden, with a face lik: a peach blossom. “That shot will never carry away the honors,” “Harry Waters,” was the reply, as a light-built, eee young man stepped actively up to the ine, He had thrown back his cap, and the ruffled hair clustered over his forehead. He trie lhis bow, which yield d the clear twang of a harp-strihg., Dropping the eni of the curved wood to the ground, he com- menced to select an arrow with graat care, “Ts hea good shot?” whispered the young lady who had before spoken. “That I could not say,” returned her friend, ‘TI haye never seen him draw a bow.” “Well at any rate, he has not much to beat,” with a suggestive shrug. Adjusting the arrow to the string the cortestant slowly bent the stronz. bow, taking careful and de- liberate aim, his eye fixed with a keen glance on the distant tarzet A sharp twanr, The arrow bad sped. Every eye followed the winged missile, that shot. through the air like a line of light, and buried its iron point in the surfaces of the target. “A bull’s-eye!” cried one, hastily. “A bull’s-eye? Where do you keep your eyes sarcastically as'ce1 4 second, a tall, cizantie-framed person, whose looks wera keanly fixed upon the itivering arrow, “ Why, it’s outside the inner cir- cle, a good six inches fgom the center. Come, come, Harry, you will have fo do batter than that if you want to carry off the honors ”’ s Basho you can beat it,” retorted Harry, a little nefrlei “Me? Why Thaven't tried a bow and arrow since Tused to have a hoy’s fun, shooting at ground sqir- rels in my native Buek’s eounty woods, Besides, it’s the Indies’ turn. I would not Toh the fair Clara of her chance for a kingdom,” = = ro Will Wildfire in the Woods. The young lady who had now taken Harry Waters’s plac*, turned with a smile toward the speaker, re- vealiny a beautiful face, bright with youth and clear _ with hope. § q “T am much obliged to Mr, Browning, I am sure,” came in musical tones from her lips. ‘* His polite- ness is really delightful, under the circumstances. But he can have his much-desired opportunity after I get through.” | ‘*‘No, no!’ returned the laughing giant, hastily. “T won't steal yourhonors, There are others ahead of me. Goon. Lam satisfied to repose on my old laurels.” “Tshould fancy you would not sleep easily on them,’ retorted the fair contestant. “They must be.dreadfully faded. It would be best toadd some fresh ones to the mass,”” Tir bow seemed rather firm and stout for her delicate hands. It was stained of a bluish tint, and stretched with a cord of crimson silk. Carefully selecting an arrow with feathers of the same tint of blue, she fitted it to the cord, standing creet with a supple grace that was a picture to b hold, “Look at Clara Moreland,” crie| the blue-eyed nymph who had spoken before. ‘‘Isn’t she hand- some and graceful? And I am told she is the best shot in the Robin Hood Club,” “Hush! she is going to shoot!” The whole assembly was stilied in intense ex: pectation as thé graceful archer stood, with her left side presented to the target, and the bow, lifted to the level of her eyes, drawn with a strength and skill that could hardly have been expected from her delicate hands, r eye glanced quickly along the leveled arrow. Aninstant, and the released string twanged with a sharp, keen sound. The arrow flew across the level plain, and struck the target with a clear thud, near its center. A simultaneous outburst of applause came from the admiring thror “Good!” “Fine!” “'The best shot to-day!” “Ts it a bull’s-eye?” No.’ “Notan inch trom the center, auyway!? were some of the admiring com. ments on the shot, while a perfect medley of excited remaris arose in the crowd that surrounded the archers, Clara stond 9, little aside, her face flushed with pardonvble pride, while these flattering comments on her skill meet her ear. “ How is if’? was the ery, as the measurers of the shot returned with the victovious arrow. ‘Has it touched the bull’s-eye? Is it a, center?” “ Just outside the bull’s-eye,” was The announce- ment, ‘‘ahout two and a half inches from the cen- ter. The best shot to-day by a good three inches,” Clara was. instantly surrounded by her friends, who vied with each other in warm congratulations, Several other contestants followed, with varied success Finally the pretty young lady. who had been so free in her comments on the previous com- petitors, steppe! forward, bearing a slender, deli- cate bow, that seemed but a toy as compared with those used hy some of the others. | Her blue eyes glittered with excitement as she took ber stand, while she pushed back the wealth of golden hair, that seemed bent on getting into her eyes. “Come, come, Miss Darling!’’ exclaimed the huve fellow who had before spoken, while a mischievong smiled played around his lips. ‘It is hardly fair tg .
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4 ~* Will Wildfire in the Woods. 3 the rest for you to enter. There will not be a ghost » of a chance with one who shoots two ways, with an arrow from your bow at the target, and a twin pair of arr -ws from your eyes at the hearts of the poor “1 would hardly like to try a center shot at your heart,” sbe saucily replicd. “I would not care to have my arrows blunted.” “Me? Why I am as soft-hearted asa baby. You have shot me through and through before now,” “You don’t dare to match me at the target, at any rate,” she retorted, in a tone of slight vexa- tion. “T would advise you not to be too sure of that. I never refuse a fair challenge.” “Very well, then,”’ quickly replied the lady. “ You can shoot afrer me. We will see what right you have to come here and criticise us.” “Beware, misguided female,’ returned her op- ponent. ‘‘ Beware how yon invite defeat,” “T donot fear your skill,” was her laughing re- sponse, as she quickly drew her light bow, and shot the arrow seemingly without aim. “A pair of gloves against a kiss it does not touch the target,” challenged the laughing giant. * Done!” cried the blue-eyed archer, with a saucy look. ‘Mind, sir, I shall hold you to your wager.” ‘* And mind, miss, | shall hold you.” The arrow, at this instant, reached the target, and buried its point in its outer edge, almost missing it. “The gloves are mine,”’ she cried gayly. “But, oh! how desperately near you were to de- ing kissed,”’ he maliciously rejoined. ‘No matter. It is your turn now.” “But 1 have no bow.” ‘* Borrow one then. easily.” With a groan of affected dismay, Mr. Browning turned, and borrowed a bow and arrow from one of his friends. “Prepare now, ladies and gentlemen,” he an- nounced, “to see a display of skill that will put to the blush the celebrated Locksley of the past. Pre- pare be crown Pierce Browning, the modern Robin ood. “A silk purse toa necktie you don’t touch the target,”’ exclaimed Miss Darling. “Done!” eried the archer. ‘“‘You have robbed me of a pairof gloves. Iam good fora purse in their place.”’ The carelessness of bis shot even exceeded hers, The arrow flew without any apparent aim. “A center!” he exclaimed. “Yes, the center of the woods,” she retorted, while a loud laugh of amusement arose as it becume evident that the arrow had flown wide of the tar- ‘et. Sit It bas gone clear through,” he sturdily declared. “* Look, and you will find the hole it has made.” “A pretty broad hole, through that clump of oak timber,” suggested a voice “You can add the necktie to the gloves, friend Pierce.” Miss Darling turned quickly at the voice. “ Ab! here is the missing archer now. They have been waiting for you, Mr. Wildfire.” “Better late than never,” replied the new-comer, as he stepped forward. He was a handsome, athletic. well-built youth, with a smooth face except for a budding mustache, and a very frank and engaging expression of counte- nance. There was something especially taking in his clear and genial eye, while his whole face seemed instinct with honor. courage and gayety. “Will Wildfire!” exclaimed a dozen voices. ‘‘ What has kept you? Your name was called a half an hour a “Business,” he sententiously replied. ‘ You will have to excuse me. Iam notin the best of humor for shooting to-day.” “No, sir,” retort: @ Pierce Browning, ‘ You mus! take your chance. You didn’t find me back down when I was called upon,” You sball not escape so *You-couldn’t very well help yourself,” rejoined Will, with a glance at the smiling face of Miss Dar- ling. ‘Lend me a bow, then, I wiil go through the motions.” While they were procuring him a bow he turned to Pierce Browning, and whispered in his ear: “There is some fun afloat, my boy. The devil is unchained.” **What?—Mark— “Hush! It’safact, though. Pardoned out!” A grimace passed over Pierce’s expressive conn- tenance, while \\ ili turned, with an unchang: d Icok, and took the bow which the master of the field had obtained for him, “TI presume I may as well be beaten as any one,” he laughingly remarked. ‘Who stands best now?” “Miss Clara Moreland,” was the reply. “Ah! said Will, looking around, and catching an expressive glance from the young lady in question, while he answered with a broad smile. “It would be unfair to beat the lady,’ he remark- ed, fitting the arrow to the string: A pause of expectation followed, None there had seen the new archer shoot, but his well-known skill in other sports gave them hope of marked ability in this, and every éye was fixed upon his tall and grace- ful figure, as he drew himself up to his full hight, and bent the flexible bow, with the full power of a strong hand. The string touched his right ear; an instant he glanced along the arrow; every breath was held in expectation. But at this instant a sharp report, as of a rifle- shot, came from the thicket, end the archer’s hat. struck by the bullet, was torn from his head, and dashed to the ground, twenty feet sway. A closer setting of the lips was the only evidence of emotion in Will Wildfire’s face, as he quickly wheeled around upon his heel, with the bow still bent to its utmost stretch. A faint puff of smoke was rising above a spot in the center of the thicket. A sharp twang announced that the arrow had fled, aimed with instant but steady aim at the spot which sheltered this secret assassin. And ane as a flash Will had followed his arrow, across the stony creek and into the thicket, “Follow me, Pierce!” he cried. ‘The devil is loose, in good earnest!” WILL WILDFIRE’S BAREBACK FEAT. FrRontTING on Fairmount avenue, Philadelphia, at a point West of Twentieth street, stands a gloomy anid imposing edifice, whose massive turreted towers and crenulated walls give it the appearance of a Norman castle, of those old times when might ruled right over the fair domains of England and France. Its object, however, is wid ly cifferent from that of the casteliated structures of the past. They were built to keep pecply ou'; this to Lerp them in; for i is what is locally known as Cherry Hill prison, or, to give it its formal title,the Eastern Penitentiary of Pennsylvania. In a cell in the interior of this edifice, sits a small- framed, rather handsome man, though with some- thing in his glance that is not of the most prepos- sessing character, The cell he occupies is clean and neat, but very sparsely furnished. It opens in the rear upon a small garden plot, just large enough to give a breath of fresh air, and a scant opportunity for exercise to the weary prisoner. - He has, bowever, an opening for exercise of an- other character, in the bench, tools and materials of a shoemaker, which sit at one side of his cell, and with which he is r. quired to employ himself, for the perforMance cf a certrin task. Just now he is seated on the edge of his cot, using his shoemaker’s kn'fe in idlv cutting thin strips of leather from a piece which he holds in his hand; while an expression of bitter malignity plays upon his features, ’ ¥s } “I will be even with him yet,” he hoarsely re,
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4 Will Wildfire in the Woods. — ml marks. ‘They cannot keep me here, with all the influence I have brought to bear upon the Pardon- ing toard. Once let me out of this infernal sell, and I will make him feel what revenge means in the heart of Mark Preston. He has had his day. Mine will come yet.” He sat brooding in stllen si'ence forsome minutes | 76 energy, as cutting the leather with a pe His expre if he fancied it the he rt of hi € grew more bitter and malignant. “Robbed of my fortune first,” he muttered, “Of my bride next, and then of my liberty. Besides all the minor favors which I owe to his generos Let vest of re- it, as Fam d. He has sowna deep | Iswea him take he venge, which he shall yet reap. a living man!” Furionusly flinging down the implements whi held in his hands, he sprung to his feet and briskly along the narrow confines of his cell, his lips working with inaudible sentences, “When will let out of this cell?’ he f exclaimed. ‘“ When will I get at my mx Oh! that I could tear down these accursed ¥ break again ioto the licht of day and of libe He paused in his furious walk. The sound had reached his ears of steps advancing along the prison aisles, und stopping opposite his door, nex? heard, “Ts this the cell?” “Yes, Number 79. Mark Preston.” ‘Yes, yes. That seems right The prisoner stood with something ¢ of a wild-cat, the door of whose cag fastened. The intense lcok of one thirst erty and revenge. Ths open door displayed the form of the jailer of that corridor, and of a burly, well-dressed individ- ual, who bore about him an air of authority, “Mark Preston. Is that your name?” h examining a formidable-looking document wi held partly open in his hand. “ Yes,’’ replied the prisoner, the hungry look deep- ening in his eyes. “Tn for six years, as an accompiice of a gaug of burglars?” This question was addressed to the keeper. “This is your man,” replied the latter, brusquely. “Then, by virtue of the document which [ hold, signed by the Governor and State Board o? Par- dons, you ave pardoned-for this offense, aud are hereby freed from detention.” A flash of joy, that had init something of savage exultation, shot across the prisoner’s face, y strong self-control, he repressed any further evi- dence of feeling, and said, with assumed sternness of tone: “T don’t know that an innocent man owes many thanks to the State of 1; for releasing him from false imprisou nent. i thank you though for your trouble. Iam weary enough of this villainous dog’s hole.” The official looked with an air of wonder at the prisoner, whose eyes were turned with a savage glare upon the walls of his cell. A significant shrug of the shoulders, and he commenced to read the document he held, the prisoner listening with ill- concealed impatience to its legal verbiage. “Let me congratulate you upon your releaso, continued the official. “Mr. Walker, you will see to Mr. Preston’s further needs.” He turned upon his heel, as if offended at the lack of response to his polite remark in the prisoner's ex: pression. **A rat don’t often thank the kind gentlemen who shut him up in a trap,” muttered Preston, as he fol- lowed the keeper from his discarded ce'l. A half-hour afterward the wicket in the grea* iron gates of the prison opened, and Mark Preston step- pe out int» the free air of the streets and under the open tizht of the heavens, A remarkable change Here is the name, you see. Open the door.” F the aspect is bein: un- og for lib- ” had taken place in his appearance. His prison garb Voices were | was discarded, and he wore the well-cut, fashionable attire which had been taken from him when enter- ing the prison. Cleanly shaved, his long mustache curled in the French fashion, and a well-fitting bat concealing his closely-clipped head, no «ne would have dreamed that this dapper individual had been a et before, an inmate of a prison cell, a convict- ed felon, Mr. Walker, the keeper, bade him a kindly God- speed at the gate, and the freed convict walked briskly away, his face working with the conflicting emctions that filled his mind. “Tt was lucky that I received that other legacy.” he muttered, ‘or my losses on the turf, and in other rays, might have foreed me to take up my new f shoemaking for a living. I must see how ny affairs stand. Ican take my time in paying my respects to my friend, Will Wildfire.” ving him to his devices, we must return to the -e of the archery meeting, whose sport had been gnally interrupted. An intense confusion fol- 50 & | lowed the rifle-shot, which had seemed evidently aimed at Will Wildfire. Toe screams of women were mingled with the cries and ejaculations of men. The group for an instant huddled together, like a fright- ened herd of deer that hears the huntsman’s shot. Some of the ladies clung nervously to th-ir gentie- men friends for protection. This excitement was partly occasioned by the hasty exclamation and quick action of Will Wildfire. The brawling creek ran swiftly in its shallow bed, with frequent stones lifting above its swirling wa- ters. Leaping from stone to stone, in a minute he had reached the edge of the thicket, followed as quickly by Pierce Browning, Harry Waters and sev- eral others. But the thicket wos not to be so readily traversed, The intertwining fibers of grape-vines and the thorny and whip-like stems of blackberry and rasp- berry bushes, hindered any rapid progress though Will hastily drew a knife and cut his way through these annoying obstructions. = “Spread to the right and left!’ he shouted. “The thicket is not wide. You may surround it and catch this weasel in his hole. Quick, lads! Don’t let the hound escape!” The suggestion was instantly followed. Some ran in each direction along the banks of the creek, with intent to overlap the thicket, while others darted in various lines through its dense midst, following Will’s example of cutting a passage through the hindering vines and thorn bushes. Te ladies were soon left aimost alone, awaiting with intense anxiety the result of this rapid and im- pulsive search. “Shoot the hound down, if you can’t stop him otherwise!” velled Pierce Browning, as he plunged into the bushes, breaking through all obstructions with his great weight and trampling them under his feet as an elephant might have done in a similar sit- uation. Several minutes of intense expectancy followed. Those left on the archery ground conld hear the shonts and tramplings of the pursuers, and thir frequent cries of advice or of encouragement to each other, And now a more interesting cry came from the heart of the thicket, in the stentorian tones of Pierce Browning, ‘*By Heaven, Will!” he cried, ‘ but you are a fine alee a fly. You've carried off the honors of the ay.” : ‘ “How? Did I hit him?’ screamed back Will’s voices from a little distance. “Yes. He took your hat with his bullet, and you have taken his with your arrow. Here it is; with a good goose-feathered shaft plumb through it; and a tinge of red on the barb as if it had creased the hound’s sealp.” ‘Keep it,” returned Will. ‘That is my target, with a shot in the bull’s-eye, ‘The hat may Je:d to |
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Will Wildfire ————————— a its owner. Drive on, boys! He may be in hiding somewhere.” 4 The plunging sounds continued for several min- utes more, “Hey! Hey! Hoicks! Stole away! Stole away!” came from an old fox-hunter who had skirted the thicket. “Yonder he goes on horseback. and riding eo By the seven saints, he has given us the slip!’ Several others quickly gathered around him, their eyes fixed on the distant horseman. who riding rapidly down a neighboring lane. having ju leaped his horse over the low fence that skirted the field. Almost at the same instant Will Wildfire broke from the thicket, followed a moment afterward by the huge form of Pierce Browning, who held aloft in the Woods. 5 | triumphantly the arrow-pierced hat which he had | discovered. ““Whereaway?”’ cried Will eagerly. “Yonder.’’ A dozen hands pointed to the fugitive horseman, now a full quarter of a mi'e away. ‘He has given vs the slip, confound him!” ex- claimed Pierce in accents of vexation. ‘Not yet!” was Will’s hasty answer. He broke quickly from the throng and ran across the field, first snatching a bow from the hands of one of the pursuers, who had brought this imple- ment with him. All eyes curiously followed the athletic youth, not comprehending his object. cropping the grass on the other side of the field. ill slackened his pace as he approached the ani- ma}, who was lifting his ears in incipient alarm, But by that sort of freemasonry which exists be- tween some men and the members of the brute crea- tion, Will managed to quiet the alarm of the skit- tish animal. e was allowed to apprceach, to softly stroke the glossy hide, to grasp its flowing mane. It was the opportunity he wanted. In a moment more, with an agile spring, he had flung himself astride the trusting animal. A quiver of the horse’s flanks, succeeded by a sud- den and powerful leap, followed this treacherous movement. But Will sat his barebacked steed like a Centaur, “Take down the bars!’’ he cried, as the horse con- tinued its frantic efforts to get rid of this unwelcome burden. ‘1 will run down that villain, if it isin the creature’s limbs and muscles,” As he spoke, with a dexterous movement, he in- serted the string of the bow which he held, between theanimal’s gaping jaws, and drew it tight until it almost cut into the flesh. “There is your archer’s bit and bridle!’ he shout- ed. ‘“‘Down with the bars, some of you! I have enough todo to handle this hor_e, without trying to leap him.” Some ran to obey his bidding, while Will struggled with the frightened and infuriated young animal, — was making frantic efforts to throw his daring der. It was in vain. Wherever Will had learned the art of horsemanship, he had learned it thoroughly. The animal bucked, reared, almost stood on his head, yet Will, grasping .his side with a steel-like gripe of his knees sat firm. punishing the maddened Steed severely with his improvised bit. ‘* All ready!” came the ery. “Then make way, for Iam coming!” The furious animal, by this time, had ceased its wild gyrations and was trembling like a leaf. Its next movement was to spring forward with marvel- ous speed, straight toward the fence. But its skillful rider directed the unbroken and Uunsaddled creatare to the opening made by his friends. In an instant more they were in the open | es é “T will run him down, if there is any virtue in horseflesh,” he cried. ‘ And if I do, let him look to _ It was soon evident, | however. A young, clean-limbed horse was quietly | himself. He shall find that Will Wildfire is not to be shot at with impunity.” Like an arrow down the lane darted the furious animal, guided by the improvised bridie of his dar- ing rider, who sat on the horse as if part of himself. while his compressed lips and gleaming eyes showed. that there was deadly earnest in his expedition. CHAPTER IIT. FARMER BROWN GIVEN AN INVITATION TO SUPPER. Putneas Brown, farmer, was slowly wending his way back from market. where he had disposed of a load of turni d carrots. and the week’s butter of the Brook Farm Gairy. He sat back uow in his creaking vehicle, | appy in the double consciousness of having done his duty to his fellows by making the primest butter of the county. and his duty to him- self by getting the pr.mest price for it. The old roan horse. which hac been a quarter of a century in the family, trotted slorg with that grave deliberation to which he felt that liis venerable age and faithful service gave him the right. And his wrinkled but kindly-faced driver seemed quite con- tent with the slow pace of the old horse © But hadn’t thee best gee up a bit, Franky?” he quietly 1ltothe animal, ‘Thee knows it will ba night bef thee gets to thy crib, at that pace.” The horse pricked up his ears at these words, as erstood them, and stepp d out at a er speed. 1 pulled a note book from the pocket lored coat, and began leisurely to ex- es, a look of great satisfaction coming though h upon bis eG; * Add six, that makes nine,’ he muttered with pursed-up lips, and compressed brows. ‘* Nine times forty is—let mesee. Nine times naught is naught, nine times four is thirty-six. Three hundred and sixty. Then add to that seven twenty-nine, and we have—” he put the end of the pencil in his mouth, and looked up, as he tried to mentally make the difficult calculation. Bui all thought of figures and profits was sudden- ly driven from his head, as his eyes glanced down the road before him. For there came a furious rider on a furious steed. And the rider was bare- headed, and the steed barebacked! while the ex- perienced eyes of the old farmer had never seen a bridle like that with which the horse was managed. His wonder increased as the equestrian came nearer; while a look that was not entirely astonish- ment came upon his dry visage. “ Unless Lam strangely mistaken I have seen that steed before,” he muttered, with a queer expression. “ Nor is the visage of the rider quite unknown to me. But what is the untamed colt bridled with?’ A minute afterward Will Wildfire, for it was he, thunderrd up beside the wagon of the old farmer. Wild as the horse had been at first, his breakneck drive seemed to have taken the spirit out of him. Will readily drew him up with bis improvised bit. The flash was stillin bis eyes 4s he turned to the old man, who sat witha peculiarly grim smile on his features while he adjusted his spectacles fora closer look at the horse. ““ Excuse me for stopping you, Mr. Brown,’ began Will, with rapid and eager voice. “Have you meta bareheaded rider, driving furiously down the road by which you have come?” “Yes,” replied the old farmer, as he continued to inspect Will’s strange moun:. “Where?” cried the young man with impatient haste. “He's a villain and an attempted murderer! How far is he in advance?” “Pardon me. friend Wildfire.” the old fellow de- liberately answered. ‘1 do not quite agree with thee in thy opinion. Thyself is the only furious bareheaded rider I have met to-day.” Will put his hand to his head with an inyoluntary gesture. He had forgotten the lors of his hat. “Do not trifle with me,” he cried, half angrily. “Have you not met him? I must overtake him,” Ady 2 Ss
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. “Thee will scarcely do so on thy present course,” gravely returned the old Quaker, ‘I assure thee I eles with no such character.” “Then he must have turned off into some side road,” remarked Will, preparing to wheel his foam- ing horse. **One moment, friend Wildfire,” snid the old man, “T would like to acdress thee a brief query.” Will paused pi eeepc “*T hope you will not detain me.” ‘““Wxcuse me: but will thee tell me where thee ob- tained thy steed?” * Borrowed it,’’ Will briefly replied. ** And is thy bridle a new invention? The pattern is strange to me.” Will laughed grimly. “ We were having an archery matcb,”’ he explain- ed. “I suddenly found it necessary to borrow a horse; and as no saddle or bridle was at hand, I was forced to improvise the one out of the animal’s hide, and the other out of a bow-string.” “T hardly like the pattern, friend Wildfire,” was pe uiet answer, “fhe poor creature’s mouth is seeding.” “Thad to break in the hard-mouthed brute,” said Will, apologetically. “Well, well, my young friend, thee will forgive my curiosity, I hope.’ begged the old farmer. “Thee will understand it better when I explain that thou art riding my horse, and I do nof remember the fact of thy borrowing it.” “Your horse? The devil!” cried Will. hastily. “No, no. Ido not perceive that his Satanic Ma- jesty has aught to do with the aff.ir. Though 1 would not have believed anybody but he could have ridden that horse barebacked ” “{ have a touch of the devil in me to-day,” an- nounce’ Will. ‘You must excuse my appropria- ting your horse. I know you will, when I explain.” He quickly recounted the circumstance which had driven him to-his hasty action, the old man listening with wonder and sympathy. “ Why. why! certainly. certainly! under such cir- cumstances thou art thrics welcome t> him.” “And now I must continue my pursuit, if it is oli to discover what road the fugitive has aken. **Ttis not poarer remarked the farmer. ‘“*There is a net work of lanes backhere. Thee would waste thy time. Besides, I don’t think I can lend thee that horse any longer to-day. Thecreature has had enough of thy rough handling. Thee had b tter re- turn and taks supper wich me.” There was a sort of stupefaction in the look which Will cast on the old man’s grim fuce. “But—you are too kind,”’ he faltered. “ After my running away with rour hors».” “Do not think of that, friend Wildfire,” returned Farmer Brown, with a lurking smile. ‘ Thadintend- ed to send for a professional hors?-breaxer to-mor- row, to break that colt to the bridle. Thee has Swelme that trouble and expense. Therefore I certainly owe thea in return an invitation to sup- or, An od look passed across Will’s expressive face. 2 seem sd with difficulty to repress a laugh, “Tecan scarcely come.” h® answered. ‘Unless you will permit me to extend the invitation to a few friends who un I left at the archery grounds,” The old farmer hesitated a moment, his brows knitting. ““Yos, yes! certainly. certainly!” he then ex- claimed, ‘Bring thy friends. Ishall be happy to seo thom. G:eup Franky,” and he shook the reins over the subdued old roan. Will turned his horse at the same time, and start- ed swiftly back. “Look for me_by sunset,” he called back, as his new-broken steed ran at a rapid pace down the smooth road. “Well, if this isn’t the most astonishing adventure of all!” he ejaculated. ‘ Old Brown is said never to have given an invitation to a meal in his life. For fear hc may never give another I am half inclined to make the most of this.” A laugh broke from his lips at the thought that passin through his mind. anwhile Farmer brown jogged on, reaching home In dustime, While his eldest son took charge of the horse and waxzon, leading them to the barn, the old man made his way to the kitchen, where he found his good wife, as wrinkled as himself, busily engaged at her culinary preparations. The ol, tomed chair, laid off his broad-brimmed ha’, wiped his brow with an immense si/k handkerchief, and then ary prepared to respond to the dozen ques- tions which the good dame had already asked him. ‘ Wife,” he asied, ‘‘ what has thee for supper?” “What a question, Phineas,” was her surprised answer. “Thee knows well there is only the pao nn the tea, and a loaf or two from yesterday’s palzing. “We might open some preserves,” he reflected “ And—and—”” He paused in doubt. ; i ge does thee ever mean, in the world, hus- DADA? ; “I have invited some company to supper, Re- becca.” Mrs. Brown was on the point of speaking again, but at this unlooked-for information she fell back in a chair, holding up her hands in avery picture of astoundment. “Well, I never!’ were the only words that came from her lips. “Only a few friends,” continued the old man, more briskly. ‘ And—and—does thee not think, wife, it would be well to have some poultry?” “Whatever made thes do it, Phineas Brown? And me with nothing whatever inthe hou<e! As for the poultry, why, they are all cooped up for the market. Ali that are eatable, Imean,’* “Twas thinking of killing the old goose, Rebecea, ’ “The old goose!’’ The good wife’s hands went up again in utter horror. “Ys, Sha is too old for market. But these are hearty young folks, with yood teeth and strong jaws Ithink th y might masticate her.” ‘For mercy’s sake, Phineas Brown, do not think of sucha thing! Why, thee will be the talk of the country’s side,” , “Rebecca,” replied the old man with a grim smile ‘it might be well to have the laugh on my side, These young men have played something lik+ a trick on me to-day. Not that I blame them so much un- der the circumstanees. But, I'd like them to sze that old Browa understands the color of a joke.” IIe procrede} to relate what had occurred, his wife listening in wonder, while her busy hands added sundry additions to the preparations for the evening meal, “ How many of these guests did thee invite, Phin- eas?” she asked, after her astonished comments on his tidings. oe answer exactly. A few, Mr. Wildfire said.” “That is just like thee, Phineas. How am I ever to know how many to prepare for?” asked the vexed woman, “ Never fear. Rebecca,” replied Phineas, with his grim smile, ‘ The goose will be enough for all, there is no fear of that.” A dry lauch shovk bis old sides, as he went out in search of the ‘oom patriarch, An honr after this conversation, the table was set in the dining-room of Br ‘arm. {t had been drawn ont to 2 unusnal length, by the addition of other tables, en] contained a goodly display of Mrs. Brown’s cherished silver and chinaware Otherwise it was not greatly incumbered; some plates heaped with broad slices of her famous white bread, a slim display of fried sausage, and a glass dish well-filled Wi man seated himself quietly in his accus- * - amc aR
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. ies 9 cee en Serene ‘with some of her choice preserves. and flanked with another dish of cake, cut in very thin slices, made up the main ingredients of the meal. But inthe center of the board sat a great closed dish, with an appetizing steam oozing from under its cover. I:held out a most pleas: promise to the sense of smell, and only Farmer Brown and bis wife knew that it coniained the stewed fragments of the patriarchal goose, of whose age, like that of some old men and women, there was no definite record. “ Are they going to disappoint us after all?” asked Mrs. Brown, uneasily, “T hope not.” remarked her husband. ‘No, Re- becca; there is some one coming up the lane now. Iwish I bad asked neighbor Wildfire how many friends he was going to bring. Not more than two or three I sincerely hope.” Steps were at this moment heardin the porch, ‘n ! instant after Will Wildfire entered the room, follow- ed by Pierce Browning, Harry Waters, and— Bus they filed in faster than we could name them, acro: d of young men and young la hefore the astound- ed eyes of the farmer and his wife, until more than twenty-five were in the room. “I have brought my friends from the archery mee ing, in response to your kind invitation,” said Will, gravely. ‘hank Heaven I cooked the old goose!” the far- mer mentally remarked, as the room gr thronged. “We will see who has the best of the joke.” CHAPTER IV. A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER. Atthe same moment that Farmer Brown and his ‘good wife retreated in horror from the avalanche of gay young men and pretty girls, who had invaded their quiet domicile, a party of very different aspect Was preparing to move in the same direction, from -@ substantial farm-house several miles to the wes*. This party: was composed of three substantial ‘members of the Society of Friencs, Gressed in the most scbher drab, of the most anti ed cut, and with an expression of abhorrence of the gcod things of this life, that wou!d have done credit to the most rigid of tne early Quakers. Two of these were the proprietors of the house, Samuel and Harriet Wilberforce. The third was a traveli ig preacher of the society, Abraham Jenkins, a@ noted exhorter in Friends’ meeting. Withal they were three of the most rizid members of the society in that locality, manifesting a holy horror of the innovations, and backslicings into the world’s ways, to which the younger Members were becoming prone. “It is sad, sad,” remarked Abraham, with a solemn uplifting of his eyebrows. ‘‘I marvel me much that a judgment does not fall on these degenerate young people. But there are surely some oi our friends, in this region, who cling to the faith of their fore- fathers? “Yes, verily,” replied Samuel. ‘‘ There is Phineas Brown, who is a worthy member of the fold.” "And his good wife, Rebecea,” supplied Harriet, ‘a most earnest and solemu worker in the vine- yard.” “ Heaven be praised!” rejoined Abraham fervent: ly. “The old flock shall not die out while but a few remain, with faith to abbor the vanities of dress. and the deceitful pleasures of the table, and above all the twanging abominations which the werld’s people Call instruments of mu If thee co not object, friend Samuel and Harriet. I should abundantly en- Joy a social visit to friend Phineas and Rebecca.”’ ‘Truly, friend Abraham, we will go thither _with- out delay. Our good neighbor will be hiehly re- reshed in spirit by a visit from thee. We sball find kim and his good wife plunged in the charms of ra- tional conversation, for they have a pious abhorrence of all frivolity, and'indulgence in the vain deligh's of life.” A half-hour afterward found the three solemn t | friends joggiag along solemnly behind the solemnest of horses, while the old wagon creaked beneath their substantial weight, as if its rheumatic joints were about to give way under thcir unwonted hurden It was long after dark when they approached Brook Farm, and caught a moor light glimpse of the chimneys cf Farmer Brown's substantial residence. Step by stcp the old herse came nearer. But what was this? The solemn silence which they ex- pected to he 7as broken by the most unwonted sounds. Su 10s were the tones cf thet abom- ination which th orid’s people call musical instru- suts, and moreover cf that abomination of abom- ons nomed a fiddle! Could it be possible? And led with it were youthful voi raised in song and laugh‘er, and—could it be?—yes, it was—the scund of feet engaged in the frivolity of dancing! The shades of n ght prevented the three visitors from pereeciving the horror which clothed each ogthened face. Their hands wereraised in speech- I-ss dismay, while a mutual groan broke from their astounded lips. “Has Satan escaped from his chains at last?’’ queried Abraham. ‘Verily, we have set our hands to the plow, and must not turn beek. Some demon, surely, has entered into our unbappy friends’ domi- cile.” With growing horror they descended frem the vehicle, a »proached, wi b hesitating steps, the spot desc ed by the unholy squeak of the fiddle. It led them a y from the house, and toward the great barn, wh <e hall was now brightly illum- inated, wile it resounded with the sounds of langh- ter, music, and the quick tread of dancing feet. But with the reader's permission, we will return to the supper-room of Brook Farm, into which the whole archery club, with their bows and arrows, had intruded at the clcse cf our last chapter. Some anxious momenis had passed since then. But Farmer Brown, who was a good fellow at heart, cespite bis rough exterior, and who knew bow to appreciate a joke, soon recovered from his first as- tonishment, and accepted the situation with the best grace possible. And Mrs. Brown, who loved young company much * more than her austere husband, was secretly glad to behold this tively irruption, though her soul was troubled by the sparse aspect of hes table. “Thee will excuse me, friend Wildfire,” remarked the old man, with his peculiar grim smile, ** but is this what thee denominates a few friends?’ ““Why, they would come,” explained Will, in a tone of apology. “I told them you would not pre- pare for an army, but they were so anxious to call on neighbor Brown that they were prepared to take pot lucky” “Oh! they are welcome! Thee are all welcome!” cried the old fellow, grimly smiling, as he shook hands with such as he recognized in the throng, while his motherly wife was already kissing and welcoming her friends among the ladies. “But thee will have to take the will for the deed,”’ she remarked. ‘* We did not provide for so many.” * Pot luck, Mrs. Brown, Pot luck, you know, is all we = ee explained Will. “And that is just what thee will get,’ remarked the farmer ironically. “Sit down, pray sit down, friends; I think thee will find we have enough for all. And perhaps there may be some fragments to spare. Pill caught a peculiar dry humor in the old man’s tone, and began to fear that there might be some hidden counterplot to his jcke. But as for sitting down. that was simply impossi- ble. Chairs enough were found to seat the ladies, but tne gentlemen were obliged to stand, in a long solemn line. around the room. “We have no great variety, ladies and gentle- men," remarked the farmer; ‘‘ but good bread and butter, and stewed goose. are not to be despised.” And he removed the cover from the smoking dish, a4 a
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¢ 8 Will Wildfire in the Woods. eS cre whose appetizing odors were giving pleasant antici- tions to the hungry throng of self-invited guests. “The gentlemen first.’ said Phineas, dryly, as he dished up the fragments of the patriare }. ‘ As they are obliged to stand, they should be first served.” While Mrs. Brown poured out tea for the ladies, her husband, with his wrinkled face marked by a dangerous smile, passed plates of the steaming viand to ee hungry line ranged expectantly around the wall. And then the rattle of knife and fork began, that exhilarating music of the table to which the song of the tea-kettle so cheerily responds. “ Will thee have a wing?—A slice of the breast, did thee say?” and the old man approached the bot- tom of the rapidly declining dish, while the ladies looked on in silent apprehension that the goose would be exhausted before it came to their turn. But an odd smile marked Mrs. Brown's genial face, as she watched the efforts of her guests to carve their meat. It was impossible to do it standing, and the most of them, with spread handkerchiefs, and plates on knees, were vigorously and unsuccessfully striving to get a morsel of meat off the thinly-cov- ered bones of the old goose. “Don’t wait for me, friends,” remarked the old man, as he still dipped into the dish. ‘ Proceed with thy supper. Ladies, I fear thee will have to make thy mealon bread and butter. Thy gentle- man friends have exhausted the goose.”’ But the ladies by this time had caught scent of the joke, and were watching with furtive smilés the des- perate but futile efforts of the gentlemen to get a morsel of meat from the bones of the venerable old bird. The duli knives they had might as well have attempted to carve sole-leather, and a look of de- a followed by a slowly growing smile, marked their faces, as they glanced furtively around the busily engaged circle. Meanwhile the old farmer kept up his cheering re- marks. “f hope thee are enjoying thy supper. friends, Don't wait for the young ladies. They prefer tea and bread aid butter. Iam sorry I can’t help thee to another piece, friend Wildfire. The wing is al- ways tough, thee knows.” It was impossible to hold in any longer. The first explosion came from the ladies, who burst into a eal of laughter, that made the rooms of the old ouse thrill with an unwonted sound, The merriment was echoed by the gentlemen, and a roll of laughter passed round the walls of the room like the rattle of musketry. But the old farmer changed not a muscle of bis face. With the same dry, grim smile, he continued to congratulate them on the good supper he had provided. “And plenty for all, friends. Plenty forall. Do not stint thyselves, I pray thes. Thee will findI have aa amp] os The shouts of laughter redoubled, the ladies, par- ticularly, laughing until the tears ran from their eyes. “Sold, by Jupiter!’ groaned Will to Pierce Brown- ing. ‘I don't rehsh this, my boy Cannot we pro- vide him a Roland for the Oliver?” “T have it,” cried Pierce, suddenly. ‘‘I fancy we can manage to turn the tables. Wait till { return.” He ee guietly from the room. Meanwhile the fun grew fast and furious. Brook Farm, never, surely, had heard such sounds within its solemn precincts before. One by one the younger members of the Brown family inserted their as- tounded heads in at the door, and, seeing the quiet merriment on the faces of their austere parents, were borne away on the gust of laughter, thouch without the most remote idea what it all meant Such profane mirth was something quite beyond the experience of the younger Browns. Meanwhile the good lady of the house was dili- ently supplying her lady guests with slices of her ‘amous bread, and cuts of her golden butter, and | generously covering saucers of her choice strawber- ry preserves with the rich yellow cream of the Brock Farm dairy. ‘Perhaps our gentlemen friends would also like some bread and butter?’’ remarked the dry master of ceremonies. ‘' Uniess they are already fully sat- isfied with poultry.”’ “Why, I am afraid we have lost our relish for | goose,” replied Will. ‘‘ But we might possibly have some remnant of appetite for brea and butter.” “Certainly, certainly!” cried the old man, in a genial tone. ‘And there is some sausage left also. I hope thee will find thy appetites abundantly satis- fied, friends.”” He LL Sp ag set to work to supply bis hungry guests with the only eatable part of the repast, feeling, perhaps, that the goose joke had been carried quite far enough. A half-hour passed, and the table was swept as clear of viands as though a hurricane had blown across it. And now from the porch outside a most unexpect- ed and astounding sound flowed inward. The old farmer lifted his ears in deep surprise. It was sure- ly a fiddle, a violin, the twanging strings of Satan’s harp of sin! But his guests received the sound with far differ- ent emotions. There were clapping of hands and cries of joy. ‘a fiddle! a fiddle!” cried some enthusiastic voices, **Good! good! We will have a dance, You ean’t object, Mr. Brown? There is your great barn floor, It is just the place.” ‘ “No, no!”’ faltered the horror-stricken old Qua- er. “Yes. yes!’’ laughed a dozen young voices, as Pierce Browning marched into the room, followed by a young man who was diligently extracting a lively hornpipe from the sounding strings of his in- strument, ‘Say we may, Mrs. Brown?” pleaded Miss Dar- ling, her blue eyes dancing. ‘ We will not dance in the house. But in your barn, there can be no harm in a little fun there.” “This is your doing,’’ groaned the old man aside to Will Wildfire. * A violin for a goose!” laughed Will, in response, ‘One jokeis worth another, neighbor Brown, though Tam not responsible for this.” But there is some marvelous magic in the sound of music. The hearts of the old folks, which had been dry in their bosoms to the pleading of sweet sounds, were now dancing, despite themselves. And as the player changed from his lively hornpipe to a slover and more plaintive air, they felt the flood- gates of their souls breaking up, while an unwon:ed Moisture filled the corners of their eyes. As for their children, to whom such sounds were almost or Butte unknown, they had already fallen in'o an involuntary dance, while their young faces were irradiated with joy. “Well, well, well! thee has taken me by storm!” i eg old man. “But what will the neighbors say?’ : “Let them say what they please.” returned Pierce. ‘“ We will warm up their dry hearts, too, if they show themselves here.” And now there was preparing in hot haste. And ere long the wide floor of the barn was swept clean, and lighted by candles and lamps variously plac+d, while the fiddler, mounted on a chair which was placed upon a barrel, was rattling off the liveliest music from his vibrating strings, till the floor sprung like a living thing beneath the feet of the dancers, an‘ laughter and gay voices sought out every nook _ and cranny in the wide expanse. But Farmer Brown and his wife kept sternly away from this frivolity, at first. Yet they could not avoid the thrilling charm of music, Step by step they came nearer. Music. mirth and joy, surely there could be no so great sin in these. In time they appeared at the open doors of the inclosure, looking in with an enforced effort at gravity. : i 4H ~— sae i
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SL “ar Will Wildfire in the Woods. 9 But they were seen, and in a moment were caught up and drawn into the whirl of a lively country- dance. Will Wildfire caught the old lady’s hands and drew her gayly in, while Miss Darling, her eyes sparkling with mischief, did the same for the wrinkled old farmer. Ere they hardly knew it, they were swinging and swirling across the floor, with a youthful vigor of which they would not have believed themselves capable, And the music pealed. and the well-timed clatter of feet resounded, and light laughter came from merry lips, and bright eyes flashed and spar- kled, and young faces grew radiant with delizht, while the old man and his wife felt themselves young again, as they were drawn away in the intoxication of the dance, quite forgetful of where they were and what they were doing in that moment of wild forgetfulness. Suddenly the violin ceased, and the lively dancers came to aninvoluntary pause. And, from the open door sounded in deep and solemn tones: “Truly Satan has broken his chains, and the demon of madness has entered into the brains of our broth- ers and our sisters. But, oh! that our eyes should have been forced to behold it, and our ears to hearken unto it!”’ All eyes were directed thither. What was Farmer Brown’s horror to behold his two rigid Quaker neigh- bors, Samuel and Harriet Wilberforce, with a still more solemn bpp ob gazing with a look of horrified astonishment, at the sinful indulgence of himself and wife in the terrible frivolity of the dance! CHAPTER V. A CAMP DINNER, Tue well-wooded banks of Carbon Creek, that winds in leisurely curves down from the Pennsyl- vania coal bearing mountains, presented an unusual spectacle on the day to which our story now leads us forward, A forest of well-grown oaks lined its banks, with here and there broad vistas leading back to the mountain flanks, while occasionally the view was broken by dense clusters of thick-growing underbrush. At the spot in question asbarp curve in the stream inclosed a peninsula of several acres in extent, whose grassy level was clear of trees, with the ex- ception of one huge a a that occupied its center, and threw its wide shade to the borders of the in- closure, Beneath the mighty limbs of this great patriarch of the forest, a brace of tents lifted their white cones, On the grass surrounding them was spread a variety of house-keeping implements, while, close the trunk of the poplar, a crackling fire tur under a steaming iron pot, which was swung on eee of wood, supported by two impro- vised tripods. On the grass around the forms of a half dozen youRn men were indolently stretched, idly awaiting he completion of the culinary process, to which one of their number occasionally gave his attention. They were dressed for the woods, in blue flannel shirts and stout belted pantaloons, while high boots and wide-rimmed, low-crowned hats, completed their attire. “Come, old horse, the morning is sliding by like a Dutchman upon a raft. Stir up that mysterious stew of yours, or we'll not get an ounce of sport in to. day,”’ exclaimed one of the idle loungers. “No good cook hurries his broth, don’t you know that, my bungry friends?” replied the cook, as he stirred up the contents of the pot with a huge wood- en ladle. ‘‘ What's more, I sent that imp of Satan out, ten minutes ago. for some more wood. The young hound must have found a squirrel’s nest, ora Spestaat tree, for there’s more wait than wood with “Have you looked up your snares to-day yet, Ben?” asked another. ‘A dish of fried rabbit pouldnt be a bad flanker to Jack's hodge-podge ; “T told Pete to take a squint,” replied Ben, lazily rolling into an easier position, ‘Maybe that’s what’s keeping him.” ‘The fiends you did!’’ growled Jack, angrily flour- ishing his wooden ladle. ‘It’s no wonder that my stew is suffering for firewood, if the boy is smelling your snares. Suppose you nose your own rab- its? “Oh, dry up; here’s the boy now!” cried Ben Huntley, pointing to the edge of the woods. ‘And with rabbits and fagots both,” added Will Wiltfire, who formed another of the party. “And a comical-looking little sinner he is,” com- mented Pierce Browning, with a laugh, It was, indeed, an amusing spectacle which, that moment, emergéd from the woods and came slowly towardthecamp. For there appeared a little negro, about two-thirds grown, and so black that charcoal would certainly have made a white mark on him, while his eyes—that rolled like balls of ivory in a basin of ink—formed the only relief to his midnight complexion. On each shoulder he firmly clasped a fagot of dry branches, which he had gathered from under the trees in the wood, But the comical feature of his aspect was the fact that he had clutched between his gleaming teeth the hind-legs of two rabbits, which hung down in a limp manner over his breast. “Well, may I be kicked by a mule!” ejaculated Ben, springing to his feet, “if that isn’t an original way to carry rabbits! Why, you black jJackanapes, what in the blue blazes do you mean, to stick my rabbits iv your mouth, hey?” Pete attempted to say something, but only sput- tered out an unintelligible answer; while the others were rolling with laughter at the sudden wrath of Ben and the funny consternation of the boy. He at length opened his mouth and let the rabbits fall; but he was no more able tospeak than before, for he was quite choked with rabbit fur, which half- yn Le mouth ie ite peclepente aah Spluttering and coughin e boy drop) the fagots from his ahoniier, “add hopped coat as though he were dancing on hot plates, while he en- deavored to extract the choking fur from bis mouth, “Dar’s yer ole wood!” he managed to ejaculate, at intervals, ‘‘ An’ dar’s yer ole rabbits! Guess it didn’t hurt ’em much to cram dere hind paws in my monuf, Don’t cook dat part ob de rabbit, nohow.” And Pete continued to dance his war-dance, while he clawed away at the hidden recesses within his wide jaws. “Guess mebbe you'd laugh t’other side yer moufs, ef you'd got yer jaws full ob rabbit’s wool!” ex- claimed the boy, indignantly, ‘ Wish to cious T'd luff de ole t’ings in de trap! Sure’s you lib, Ido!” While the others continued to chaff Pete, the cook had replenished his fire. whic!: now burned briskly, and he was skillfully skinning one of the rabbits, and Sa orth it for the frying-pan. * Roll up here, now!” he called out, after twenty minutes more had elapsed. ‘‘Spread_your table- cloth, and get out your best silver, for I can tell by the simmer that the stew is reaching its critical point. Stir up, there, you lazy tramps re The table-cloth consisted of a sheet of oil-cloth, spread on an improvised board table; and the silver, of certain delf dishes, that looked as if they had gone through three campaigns in the grand army, suengs they had really done less than a week’s ser- vice in outdoor housekeeping. But to their eager appetites, broken delf was as good as polished plate, when smoking with the appetizing compound which Jack Hasard served up in generous portions, and flanked with a side dish, full of the redolent odor of fried rabbit. The woodland meal progressed rapidly. They had taken a morning’s brisk exercise, and were hungry re to bave eaten sole-leather, if nothing better offered, “Talk about camp life!” muttered Harry Waters, who formed-one of the party, “just compare this
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10 provender with Farmer Brown’s old goose, and bless your lucky stars.” A hearty laugh arose at the recollection. “You should thank the old fellow for giving you the chance to sharpen your teeth on that perambu- latory whetstone,” remarked Pierce. “T had the wing for my share,” rejoined Will, “and I can testify to one thing. If that old bird had set out to fly to the moon, she would have got there, if it depended on her toughness of wing. She would never have given way in that point of her domestic economy.” ‘*A rich trick the old chap played upon you,” re- marked Ben, as he inserted his fork into a juicy slice of the rabbit. ‘‘ Thank my stars I kept clear of that sell.” ~ “Good heavens! didn’t we pay him back in richer coin than his own?” ejaculated Pierce. ‘*Aslong as Llive, I never expect to see such another picture of consternation as there was when his Quaker friends caught the old chap and his wife footing it over the barn floor, as if they had got an infusion of quick- silver intheir old bones. Their faces were enough. Anybody that could draw their picture at that mo- ment. would have a sure fortune in it.” “ And what was the end of it all?’ asked Ben. “Oh! we tried to cook the new-comers in the same orridge, but that didn’t work. Then we decamped, eat arrows, fiddle and all, and left the old rogue to match the goose against the fiddle and see who had the best of it.” “But afterward, I mean? What was the upshot of the business? Has friend Brown been read out of meeting? Or have they set him to do some heavy penance for the crime of shaking his old foot in a dance?” “No. You would hardly believe it, but the old man has put his foot square down in favor of music,” supplied Will, ‘‘He vows now that nobody but a dried-up fossil could see any harm in listening to sweet sounds; and, as for moving his feet before a fiddle, it is no more sin than to move them behind a plow. In short ho js in full rebellion. They may read him out of meting or not, but his old heart has been warmed by the sweet sound of a tune, and he is bent on not lefting it dry wp again.” “Good for him!’ cried Ben. ‘There is nothing like sticking to sensible opinions.” They were now through with their repast, and one by one rose from the table, leaving Pete to attend to the dish-washing and cleaning up. while they caught up their lines and started on a fishing-excursion down the creek. ** And mind, Péte, that you don’t burst yourself with Irish stew and rabbit,’ warned Will, as he caught the little chap’s eye fixed with greedy eager- ness on the remnants of the feast. “Can't say as I’s berry hungry,” returned Pete. “Not so mighty berry hungry, dat is. Only it’s a sham= to see good vittals go sp’ilin’, Guess I'll put some obit away. Want to git dat rabbit's wool out my t’roat, ye know.” A laugh followed Pete’s reasons for his appetite, and the sportsmen turned down the creek, as the boy attacked the viands with all the ferocity of Napoleon’s old guard assailing a hostile redout. A brace of boats swung from the shore at the left of the encampment. These were already well pro- vided with fishing tackle, shot-guns, and the other implements of woodland sport. jividing up the party between them, they loosen- ed the chains that held them to the shore, and pushed out into the swift current of the creek, Will again shouting back to Pete: “Mind you don’t set foot out of the camp till we come back. Don’t set the tents on fire. And don’t let any of the stew go to waste.” “You kin jess bet I won’t do dat, anyway,” splut- tered Pete, with a mouth full of the Juley ood. **Not as I’s so drefful sharp set, but I’s not gwine to let good vittals go to waste. I’s gwine to do my duty, ef I has to bu’st over it,” Will Wildfire in the Woods: With a laugh from the sportsman, the oars fell in the water, and the boats shot down-stream. CHAPTER VI. GUNNERS AND ANGLERS, “Tas way, Ben. We will have to work around the marsh. You takeit to the left, and feel your way carefully. The birds will be confounded skit- tish on an afternoon Jike this,” “ All right,” revurned Ben, trailing his gun. ‘* And keep an eye on that dog, Will. He’s too eager. The villain is young, and hasn’t been half broken,” “Come here, Sport,” cried Will, in a tone of stern command, as the youthful dog showed an inclina- tion to bound ahead. ‘Keep quiet, you rogue. Don’t stir 2 heir till you get the word.” The inte!licent animal understood enough of this harangue to tale his post obediently at Will’s heels, where he moved on docilely, with only an occasional outbreak to the right or left. The point at which they now found themselves was an open reach of the forest, broken just here by a piece of marshy ground, of some width; while, further on, the trees lowered and grew thicker, a thin undergrowth covering the soil. Around this marsh the sportsman briskly walked. The call of quail had been reported from the undergrowth that morning aud their pace decreased as they approach- ed this part of the wood. Will now permitted the young pointer to go in ad- vance, though cautioning and restraining him in low tones of command. “Gently. gently, Sport! Back here, you ingrate; you are too eager! ang it all, what did they mean by sending us an untrained dog? Back, I say, or you will flush the partridges!”’ The disaster Which Will feared came to pass. The eager dog burst into aclump of bushes. and then suddenly with the instinct of his race, dropped into a statuesque attitude, with outstretched, trembling tail, and extended neck, as firm and fixed as though he had been carved in bronze. Unfortunately it was a flying flock that he pointed. That su.den whirr of wings, which is so trying to the nerves of an unpracticed sportsman, sounded from the bushes, and a dozen quail rose, out of good gun- coi sweeping with their wavy flight through the wood. Will quickly raised his gun; but immediately low- ered it again. There was no use to waste powder and shot. ‘It would serve the hound right if I gave him a reminder,” he angrily exclaimed, “ yet the creature has good blood. He stands those bushes like a statue, A little experience may break him in to his work, Come here, Sport! You will have tobe more wide-awake, if you want to keep company with me. The dog hung his ears, and slunk back. The in- stinct of generations of breeding told him that he had done wrong. It is utterly surprising how much a blooded animal owes to birth and how little, in comparison, to training. The habits of ancestors display themselves, as it were, in the ogg. ‘ive minutes elapsed, when a gun-shot sounded from the left. Ben was atit. A minute more and the partridges swept back, directly toward Will. Half hid behind a tree, he waited with eager impa- tience, his gun at the shoulder and his eye fixed keenly on the coming birds, < “Down! Down, Sport!’’ he cautioned, as the dog manifested signs of uneasiness. i But it was too late. The birds had seen the mov- inganimal A ee whirl, and they were amar at a wide angle, followed by a snap shot from Will, at a most unpromising distance, “Hang the uneasy dog, and my impatience!” he cried, ‘That's a sheer waste of powder and shot. t was impossible to touch a feather at that distance; and I should not blame the dog, when I cannot con- trol myself.” fle trudged on, in an ill-humor with himself and
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a Will Wildfire in the Woods. . il rs fell in his dog, making slowly toward the point to which With a quick jerk Harry brought his line from the the birds had directed their flight. water, with a fish little smaller than that which Meanwhile, in the creek, which lay a half-mile to | Pierce had just landed. around the right, the boats swung at anchor just out of the ; The fish seemed to have come ina shoal, for the 2el your channel. in a most attractive reach of the beautiful | inmates of the othir boat were now on the alert, ed skit. stream. Here the wood, which, just above, clasped | and had already caught a couple of smaller perch. the current in its shady embrace, stood somewhat | For the next half-hour the sport continued active. » And back, leaving a narrow green opening, covered with | There was no longer any idle lounging, but all the er. The thick clusters of blooming goldev-rod, while Iuxuri- | anglers were wide-awake, playing their lines and ant ferns fringed the edge of the liquid current. | drawing fish from the water with encouraging ra- pidity. ry : Through this opening a flood of warm sunlight pour- t “if we don’t have a glorious feast on fried perch of st, Pate ed upon the stream, glinting from its ruffled surface i rogue, t and producing a condition most likely to be attract- | to-night, there’s no use talking,’’ remarked Harry. 5 | ive to fish, “Why, they bite as if they’d been on half-rations of thig | In this sunny reach the two boats were moored, | for a month,” : heels their inmates engaged in that laziest of all sports, “Bite? Where?” asked Jack Hasard. ‘TI haven’t sional rod and cork angling. had a nibble for five minutes. Have they slid _ ‘By Jove, I thought we would haul up fish here | again?” selves in a steady stream!” exclaimed Pierce Browning, “T've a notion they have,” answered Pierce. ‘* My ere by extending his heavy weight in the bow of one of the | cork is as steady as a bumboat in a calm. Hal while. boats. “And here’s a good half-hour without a | There drops another partridge!’ as a shot broke the ker, g } nibble.” si'ence of the forest to their right. l this | “ The fish take pity on you. They are too poli'e In a minute more an extraordinary thrashing and all of to disturb you,” said Harry Waters, as he drew up @ rending came from a clump of underbrush, which that large sunfish, lined the banks of the creek about a hundred yards oach- Throw it overboard again, my boy. We don’t | below them. It sounded as if some large creature want to rob the river of such game as that. Wat | was forcibly tearing his way through it. n ad- luck are you havi ¢ down there?” Tt was foilowed by the sudden appearance, on the : low e Not worth shucks,” came from the other boat. | edge cf the creck, of a most unexpected cbject. There are no fish here, I move we hoist anchor | There was a clear vista in this direction, which was, rate: and float lower down-stream.”’ i = at that instant, filled by the graceful form of a large 1ean What 's the use?” returned Pierce, lazily. ‘‘ We | buck, with broad-branching antlers. >, or wouldn’t be away from here five minutes before it The animal stood sharply outlined against the would swarm with fish, and all the rest of the creek | western sky, drawn up in a heap, as it were, at The be deserted. They ate too confounded cunning. | sight of this unlcoked-for obstacle, and presenting a hen Hallo! there go the boys, They have got the start | magnificent profile. But the next instant it plunged into of us.” : into the flowing waters, with a nimble spring, that ing bis exclamation was called forth by two success- | took it half-across the creek. " 3 igh ive gun-shots, which sounded from a distant part of “Up with the anchor! Let us go for it!” eried the forest. Harry Waters, eagerly. ed, ms They have both got a shot in,” remaked Harry. “Go for it? You might as well go for the wind!” the You can notice the difference in the bar« of their | returned Pierce, with lazy contemptuousness, ‘He om A puns. Wake up there, Pierce! You've gotafamous | will be ashore before we could make ten strokes. in- ite! Your cork’s gone, and he’s running away | See! there, he has touched the shallows now! A he with the line!” wa ; ‘ noble deer, I'll swear. Hang me, if I won’t have a { Pierce, at this admonition, quickly straightened | stalk for him to-merrow!” - himself, and grasped his rod, which had come near The flight of the deer was followed by a slighter er following the line overboard. : wrestling in the bushes, and Will’s young pointer 7 Play him, lad! Play him!’ cried Harry, eagerly. | broke into sight on the creek bank, loudly giving a Tenderly, tenderly. That's no fool ofa fish, and | tongue. 8 won't stand rough treatment.” “Listen to that!’ exclaimed Jack Hasard, in his a Is that all you know about perch-fishing?” re- | growling tone. ‘!There’s your Wildfire pointer! s J torted Pierce, as he swept the line around the bow | Running a deer, with his nose in the air, 4 oy ge 3 ' of the iy te fish having gone under. ‘‘ We can’t | like a mongrel pup! I doubt if Will has had much ; piey ae these yellow heautiesus though they were | good out of that thoroughbred, “How do you know it’s a perch?” “1 have felt their tug before,” returned Pierce bringing the line from the water with a powerful swing, though the slender rod bent half double, “Tt's a regular shiner! A beauty of the first water!” exclaimed Harry, enthusiastically, as the fish hung dangling in the sunlight for an instant, ere it was landed into the boat, ‘Less noise, there!” came the growling tones of Jack Hasard, from the other boat. ‘Don’t flatter yourself you've got allthe game. There’s a school of them, and they're beginning to bite lke grass- Roppers. Just eork up your bluster, or we won't laud a mn.” “ And I don’t think you will hold the fish by mal- ing them set speeches,” retorted Harry, ‘There's none of them running for Uongress, He's pretty as a ees Pierce, Ha! It's my turn now!’ is cork was tripping on the ruffled water, there being just enough wind to raise a slight wave. “It’s the ripple,” said Pierce, as Harry skillfully But we must return to our gunners, whom we left following up their covey of quail. Ben had already a brace of the birds in his game-bag. but Will, as we are aware, had not brought down a feather. He had now got round the upper end of the swamp. The undergrowth was somewhat thicker here, and it was necessary to proceed slowly and cautiously, The dog, also, seemed to bave learned a lesson from former experience, and coursed in advance of his master with watchful diligence. ‘*Ware, Sport! Ware, lad! There goes Ben’s pop-gun again! Look out, lovely. ‘here’s quail in this bit of blue-grass, P'll bet high on it.” As Will thus, in a low tone, encouraged the dog, the latter suddenly halted on the edge of the grass reach. His body stiffened, his neck craned cut, bis tail straight and stiff as.an iron bar. ove fore-foot raised from the ground, the only sign of life being a slight quivering motion, he presented the beau ideal of a pointer. He had caught from sheer nature the duty demanded of him. played his line, ‘ : “Not a bit of it, Ah! there it dips! That's no A few cautious steps, with gun at shoulder, from 3 ripple, at any rate.” ¥ 7 the huntsman, and the covey suddenly flushed. But fle Don’t let up on him, or he’ll slide from the hook,” | Will was ready this time. Crack!. crack! went his 3 two barrels in succession, and two of the noble Warned Pierce, “Bring him up on a run!”
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12 Will Wildfire in the Woods. birds, with a wild whirl, came crashing down to the ground. a © Bravo! Bravo, Sport!’ exclaimed Will, patting the dog’s neck. ‘Come! do as well as that ever time, and we’ll beat Ben Huntiley’s trained dog hol- low. Never tell me there’s nothing iu blood!” During the next half-hour he got in several more shots, and his game-bag began to grow heavy with its featbered and speckied freight. Forten minutes now they went onward cautious- y, without a shot, when Sport again pointed game, ill crept wp and glaneed between the animal’s ears into the dense thicket ahead He caught sight of the bird which por had spot- ted, and brought his gun to his shoulder just as the quail took the alarm. The shot was at point-blank range, and almost along the ground, yet it failed to hit the bird. For at that instant a sudden commo- tion in the center of the thicket disconcerted the hunter’s aim. The shot flew wild. toward the locali- ty of the noise. It was followed by a peculiar cry, and the same thrashing sound that had been heard by the fishermen. An instant after a stately buck broke from the thicket. tossing his antlers, and heading directly for the creek, followed by Sport in full ery, CHAPTER VII. THE HAUNTS OF THE DEER. “My hound! Yes, there’s not his match *twixt river and river, if Ido say it. Put him on the trail of the best buck that ever jumped, and it’s all day with that buck. There no discount on thao.” The speaker was a lank raw-boned, athletic fel- low, with a skin like parchment, and dressed in leather breeches, which were stuffed into the tops of his slouching boots. A skull-cap, with an apology for a visor, covered nis straggling hair, while a blue shirt, open at the throat, completed his attire, ‘Come here, Tiger!” he called, in a tone of com- mand. ‘“ Now, thers’s a dorg as is a dorg,” he con- tinued, as a nuge but trim-built and thin-flanked hound walked gravely up and inserted his nos» into his master’s open palm. ** As I said afore the deer that flings him has got to be as lively as a cricket in harvest time, and just you lay your bets on that!” ‘We want him then,’ said Harry Waters. to whom these remarks had been addressed, *‘You know where our camp i3?” “Yes; onthe long bend of the Carbon,” replied Joe Smith, the individual above mentioned, as he leaned his back against the public pump of the vil- lage of Coalville. ‘And so you flushed a buck there yesterday?” “se Yes. ” “ Just about where, say?” “ A couple of miles below camp, There’s a piece of swamp to the left that you may know it by.” “Know it? I know it as wellasI know beefsteak from mutton-chops. And the critter swum the creek?” Aer age He made for the hilly ground to the right, ® Ah! Hum, That’s good. Yes; I hope youmay get him.” ‘“When can we look for you over?” **Me? Well, mebbe you'd best not look for me,” “Bot we want you, I say. Youand your dog. Hang it, you'll be well paid for your trouble.” y “Look here, young man,” drawled the gaunt woodman, ‘“Taere mought be other things in your life that you'll want without getting. You don’t s’pose that a chap of my inches is to be had at every erook of your finger?”’ “*Isn’t this your business?” asked Harry. ““Reckon it is.” ‘Then what is wrong? You have nothing against our party, I hope?” “Your party mought be sugar and butter, for all I know to the opposite,” “Why do you object to rutting with us, then?” “Cause we follow in this country the barber-shop rule, first come first served. I'm engaged a'ready for that very buck. You're not the first as has seen ae jbrottin’ round these mountings; mind you at. “There's a party out for him?” “T was bespoke an hour ago.” “Who are they?” “Oh! a pack of city greenhorns; first cousins to our crowd, The man that hired me called himself Wark Preston.” “The devil!’ broke from Harry’s lips, “Don’t look much like him, so fur as I’ve seen picters of that there individual,”’ was the phlegmatic re; ly of the woodsman. “No, no; [don’t mean that. But—then we can’t have | dog?” “This dorg’s engaged,” returned Smith, pinching the cars of his favorite, ‘*Then, as you’ve pumped me to find where the deer lay, maybe you can recommend me to a dog?” A grim smile curled the lips of the woodsman, “Tallers pump where I think water’ll come easy,” he rejoined. ‘As fur a dorg, you ain’t got a ghost ofa chance if Tiger once gits on the scent of that beast. There’s Jerry Prime, though, who hangs out in the frame shanty to the left oF the road, about haif a mile toward your eer He’s gota consid'ble fair hound, which you mought go fur.” There were some odd thoughts in Harry’s mind as he trudged along the mountain road toward Jerry Prime’s shanty. ‘‘Mark Preston, eh?” he said to himself. ‘‘ What brings Ain here? There’s a blind somewhere in this deer-hunt. Couldn’t he find room in the Unit-d States, without settling down on the edge of our camp? Sure as shooting he has followed us; and there’s deviltry afoot somewhere in that chap’s game- bag. I'll have to post Will Wildfire, for he’s the buck that our jail-bird is on the scent of.” Jerry Prime was engaged without difficulty. His dog was a young animal, and was not likely to have the experience of Joe Smith’s veteran, but it was clean Jimbed, alert and intelligent, and Jerry swore that its equal did not exist between the two oceans, In this he had rather the best of Joe, who had limit- ed himself to the two rivers. Jerry had lost one eye; but the other was like a corkscrew, He walked with a long, loose-jointed stride, that forced Harry into a half-trot to keep up with it. And the whole way to the camp was enlivened with stories of the hunting experience of the woodsman, in which he certainly drew heavily on the long bow. “*Yos, I fotched that b’ar a-standin’, It were in the old times, you know, ‘fore folks got thick ’round here. My nighest neighbor were on the West Branch, ’bout twenty mile, or thereaway. But if we hadn't folks, we had b’ar and catamount fur com- pany. And, asI were sayin’, when I drawed a bead on that eritter— Drat my eyes! what in the saint's name’s that?” ; This exclamation was accompanied by a loud barking from the dog, who retreated between his master’s legs, as if he had seen a specter, Harry looked quickly around at this interruption to the bear story, and burst into a loud laugh as he observed the cause of it. They were now near the camp, and were following a narrow path fringed by a thick fengie of bushes. And in the center of these bushes, like an ebony picture in an emerald frame, had suddenly appeared asmall face of midnight blackness. There was no portion of the body visible; only the sable coun- tenance, whose pe goggle eyes, thick lips, and Spratt teeth added to the effectiveness of the picture. *Tr’s a devil’s imp, sure!” exclaimed Jerry, half- raising his rifle. ‘‘Ive half a mind to probe them Cos with g bullet, to see if thar’s anything under,
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eS ss eo ce en ee Will Wildfire in the Woods. i3 ae en “No, no!” cried Harry, hastily. ‘‘It’s sound flesh and blood. Come here, Pete, you villain! What are you_up to now?” - “ Jess scoutiu’, to see who’s a-comin’. Dats all,” rejoined Pete, emerging from the bushes, while the dog and his master took a step backward. ‘‘Dar’s dinner on the oil-cloth. and two or t’ree ob de folks se Marse Will's away somewhar. De Lord knows whar, “ What is it?” asked Jerry, with a slight tremulous- ness still in his voice. “Who? Pete? Why, he’s our man of all work. Pure blood Jerry. African to the finger-tips. All ES tale boy. You can scout round for your master. e will keep our share of the dinner from spoiling.” There was a depressed look about the hound, as - he followed Jerry into the camp. It seemed partly shame at his recent terror, and partly doubt as to whether the apparition was not really Supernatural. Pete’s decided color was sometbing unusual in that locality. He was a species of game to which the hound had not been broken. But it was certain that the start which Jerry had received had no effect upon his appetite. Hedid the duty of two good men at the woodland table, wiping his lips on rising, with an air of supreme satisfac- tion, like that of one who has approved himself we a man. ithin the next half-hour they were on their way to the spot at which the deer had vanished, Will had not yet returned, and Jerry was not content to wait longer for him. “Jist as like as two peas,”’ he explained, “that thar buck isn’t half a mile from whar ye last sighted him, Ther’s a famous feedin’ spot fur ’em jist thar. I've brung down more’n one seven-tined critter in that veryspot. Puddin’ gra-s,I call it; fur the dear like if as much as humans love their toppin’-off arter dinner.” ‘‘How shall we manage, Jerry?” asked Pierce. “T'd give a cow fora shot at that buck. Do you know the mountain?” . “Do I know beans?” rejsined Jerry. with a show of being netiled. “ Jist find me the spot, within ten miles from here, as big as the palm of your hand, whar I ain’t set foot, and I'll sell it to you, the big- gest bargain you ever made.” “T hardly think I will go into the real estate busi- ness hereaway,” Pierce gravely replied. “It's a bushy bit 0’ svile.” continued Jerry. Ther's four or five paths leadin’ down, Atween them it’s precious brambly. | caleulate to station ee folks at the deer runs, while me and N+bby— ebychudnezzer his name is, but I call him Nebby fur an easier mouthful—well, we'll scour the top. Tf that buck’s thar we’ lrouse him sure. If he aren't, we'll take a stretch over to Pilot Knob. That’s the next likeliest place.” The hunters stationed, with ready rifles, and throb- bing hearts in some of their breasts, Jerry and his dog disappeired up the hillside. — : An anxious half-bour passed with no sign of game, though an occasional yelp from the dog broke the silence, At the end of that time the scout reap- ared down the path watched by Pierce Browning. € gave at the same time a shrill whistle, the pre arranged signal to the others. - ‘He's not thar!’ Jerry announced, “Ain’t a mouse on that hill that Nebby hasn’t started. Pilot Knob is got to be our next holt.” “Where is it?” “The risin’? ground Pe see off yander. It’s a famous huntin’-ground. I recollect one’t—let me see—about twenty-five or thereaway, years back; anyhow, afore this kentry thought o’ fillin’ up. Why, you mought a-gone good twenty-five miles-on astretch in any d’rection, and found nothin’ but ‘sky an’ woods, deer an’ b’ar; not a human to the ‘Squar’ acre, as we’s got itin these days, Well, as I ‘war sayin'—”’ “ ‘“Whom did you find to talk to in those days?” in- pted Pierce, 4 “To my rifleand my dog. They both ’preciated me, you kin bet your level dollar on that.” But we must leave them on the wait for the arri- val of the others, and cut short Jerry Prime’s cele- brated deer story, to look after another of our friends. Will Wildfire had been two or three hours out, yielding toa restless feeling which would not permit im tostayincamp. He had taken his rifle, with the possibility of getting a shot at something larger than a partridge or a rabbit. But, for an hour or two, he had wandered aimlessly about. with little thought of game, his whole soul filled with the spirit of the words, a dreaming sensation flooding him as he roamed under the shadows of aboriginal trees, and in the solemn s.lence of unbroken glens. It was about three o’clock of the afternoon, when he found himself on the verge of a grassy valley, down which a brook came tumbling and singing, while the warm sunlight flowed into its inmost re- cesses. and kindled into beauty the crimson and gold of the autumn foliage. Will seated himself on a knoll which commanded this scene, his eyes and heart full of warm admira- tion, ashe looked upon wha. seemed to Lim an in- oe of fairy-land into the heart of the primeval orest. He sat thus for half an hour in complete silence, the rifle resting idly between his knees, ard his eyes fixed iu entranced delight upon this stra: gely beau- tiful woodland opening with its lawn like grass, and its glistening brook. But now, on the Sicpe opposite him, the form of a man appeared; a tall, gaunt figure, i lapesn bya huge hound, who was coursing slowly alovg, with his nose to the ground. “The lads are at hand then,” thought Will, as he recognized Joe Smith and his or He was not aware of the fact that they had been forced to engage another aid. The hunter pass+d on and d‘sappeared. Ten min- utes of silence followed; and then another figure ap- peared upon the scere, And it was one that sent a sudden thrill through Will’s heart. For, from the woods to his left, with a stately step and proud bearing, walked the graceful animal in search of whom so many huntsmen were abroad. For a moment the buck stood, outlined against the sky, with uplifted head and thrown-back antlers, snuffing the air. Will could see his nostrils dilating, as though with suspicion. He half raised his rifle; but let it fall again, “No, no,” he muttered. much like murder.” Now the buck, seemingly reassured, walked with an easy step down the grassy slope, and paused at the b:ook, where he bent his head, and eagerly lap- ped the gateful waters. “Tsu Paes would be called a fool for my pains,” said Will to himself, ‘but hang me, if 1 have the heart to shoot at that pretty creature, in his inno- see security. He can go if never have a shot ata eer. Will was now on his feet, looking down upon the buck, and fully revealed himself to eyes of which he did not dream, in the wood behind him, Suddenly t e animal raised its head. From a dis. , tance came the faint cry of a hound, It stood look- ing to right and left for an instant, then gathered its body together for the first spring of its flight. The thought of its escape suddenly roused the hunter's spirit in Will. In a moment bis rifle was at his shoulder, his eyes on the sigbts, his fingeron the ~ trigg r. The aim he took was as quick as lightning. He pressed the trigger— But at that same instant a sensation shot trrough his head as though it had been pierced with a hot iron. His rifle twitched nervously up, sending the useless bullet above the distant tree-tops. The weapon dropped from bis hands. He ane. half wheeled around, and fell prostrate and lifeless, while a double report broke on “That would look too
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14 Will Willfire in the Woods: By tha.air. The keen crack of his rifle was accompanied with that of another, A%é the same instant the startled animal leaped with & ligh6 bound across the stream, and darted up the opposite slope, while the musical bay of the hound came i a louder strain down upon the rising wind, 3ut it was audible no longer to Will Wildfire’s ear, The spring of the deer and the call of the hound were alike unseen and tmheard by his vanished senses, locked as they were in a sleep like the sleep of death, CHAPTER VIII. DEER-STALKING, Tr is an hour after the scene with which we closed our last chapter. At the further foot of Pilot Knob stand two men, the gigantic figure to the right being that of Pierce Browning, while to the left Jerry Prime, the one-eyed hunter, leans heavily upon his rifle, ; “Tts pretty much as I thought,” remarked Jerry, with an odd wink of his sound eye. “Thar ain’t a mite o’ use tryin’ to drive that buck pasta deer-run, I hadn't no ’jections to give you folks a trifle of ex- ercise; though it run all the time in my coat-sleeves that it war jist a waste o’ muscle.” “ What is to be done, then?” asked Pierce, ‘It is against the grain with me to go back empty- handed.” r “Dunno as I hinted at sich a thing,” retorted Jerry. ‘“‘Hain’t the least idearof sich backin’ down as that. But, as I said afore, we can’t run him down afoo", at the end of a dog’s nose.” * How then?” Jerry made no immediate reply. His gaze was fixed on the ground at his feet. which was covered with fallen leaves, the turf being only here and there visible. With the muzzle of his rifle he swept these Jeaves a little aside, and closely observed the ground beneath them. “How are you fur bottom? I’m kinder afeard thar’s more weight than go ’bout you,” asked Je_ry, looking up. “*Me?’? queried Pierce. ‘I’m the laziest fellow this side the Jerseys. when there’s no game afoot. But seb me on a good track and I won’t be the last to fliach.’ ‘You're my man then,” was Jerry’s quick reply. “We've got to stalk that deer. Long’s we flung the other chaps, you an’ me mought try it on.” “ Stalk him ?”” “Sartain. We'll make a still hunt on’t. ain’t no other style.” * But what do you mean?” Jerry glanced at his companion with a look of supreme disdain. “Well, lll sw'ar—S’pose, though, you don’t know no better. Thar ain’t much deer-stalking on the city streets. You’ve heered, I cale’late, bout how an Injun follers up a track?” ‘Oh, yes!” “Tis jist that way we’ve got to go fur our buck. Why, man alive, I’ve trailed them twenty mile afore now, through the wu’st kind o’ timber. Wish to Ju- yetter, though, that Nebby was home. Dogs is a nuisance on a deer trail.” “‘Nebby seems well trained.” “Yes, yes. Cale’late I kin keep the pup at my heels. Though if he breaks at the wrong minute, it’s all up.”’ Thar - Without further remark, Jerry started forward at | a quick pace, sternly repressing the dog, and order- ing him to follow close behind. Pierce had to exert himself to keep up with his Jeon somites companion. Holding their rifles at a trail they walked rapidly through the open forest, with the autumn leaves nestling in the trees, and dropping downward like a silent rain. Pieree kept silent for a half-mile of this quick walk, though he was quite at a loss to know what it ay meant, Wis curiosity at length got the advan- Ae: “TI can’t see for the life of me where you are go- ing, Jerry,” he remarked. “ You don't expuct to strike a deer by making a straight wake through the trees?’ ‘Not much,” returned Jerry, slackening his pace. “Back thar, Nebby! Jest you keep your paws at my heels, or Pll bu’st your biler.” “How then?” persisted Pierce, “Aren’t we on his trail?’ growled Jerry, in a snarling tone. ‘‘Thar’s deer track on the s’ile as plain as if it was printed in butter, See here!” and he pointed down-to a spot amid the fallen leaves. * Ts'pose you kin make that out?” ““T only see that the leaves are slightly pressed down,”’ “That's the mark of a deer’s hoof,’ laughed Jerry. ‘The critter passed here inside o’ two hours.” Pierce looked up in surprise. “How can you make that out?” “Don’t you see a new track? The leaves are comin: down here like snow, but thar ain’t one techedit. Why, bless us, I could foller a trail like that at five miles an hour, fromsun-up to night, and never miss a footprint—Back, Nebby, you uneasy villain!” Jerry had again quickly started forward, following with complete confidence the slight marks which Pierce could barely distinguish. Their path led them up or rather around the flanks of another hill. The forest here became more open, while the soil grew barren and stony. Pro- gress was not so easy as on the springy turf; and the deer tracks become fainter, to judge by Jerry’s slower pace and close watchfulness, He stopped entirely at length, on a space cover- ed by small flat stones and looked cautiously around, “Any scent *bout, Nebby?” he asked the whim- pering dog, who was coursing here and there, with his nose to the ground, “Not as I ‘spect much scentin’ from a stag- hound,” he explained. ‘Only Nebby’s got a good nose, fur one of bis breed.” Pierce rested quietly on his rifle, not venturing to compete with his two experienced companions, in the search for the deer trail, Slowly over the stony level Jerry advanced, finding indications of the buck’s passage in the most un- promising spots. “See whar his hoof has se’aped the moss from that stone,” he explained. ‘‘ An’ yander’s his track as plain as if it was done in ink, Not an hour old, either, I venture to say.” Pierce curiously followed his pointing finger. One of the flat stones appeared to have been displaced from a larger one.beneath, its shape being outlined on the lower stone, in a broad moist spot. “ He weren’t goin’ very fast, neitner,” said Jerry, “We ought to overhaul him in a mile or two more.” “But how do you make all that out?” ‘ ““His hoof struck this stone,’’ explsined Jerry; “but not over hard, or it would slid further. ie were jist out of a walk.” “And how do you know it was less than an hour ago? ‘“*Tt’s as plain as the nose on Nebby’s face,” laugh- ed the woodsman. “ Yesee that stone’s wet. That’s art of night-afore last’s rain. The upper stone has <ept it from dryin’.” * Exactly.” ‘“‘Waal, with this air, that stone ought to be as dry as your hand in lessnoran hour. But it ain’t quite dry yet.” Pierce’s acknowledgment of his sense of Jerry’s shrewdness was prevented by the dog, who gave a | quick, knowing yelp, and then a deep bay, as he sprung eagerly forward. ‘* Hold, f ound! Hold, villain! Blast me if I don’t q Ses =
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. 16 wing yel’’ yelled the scout, half raising his rifle, “*Shet down on that trumpet,or it'll be worse fur ye!” The hound paused unwillingly in his eager course, and returned, with drooping ears, at the renewed | command of his master. “If the buck’s inside of ear-shot, ye’ve gi’n him a start, and us _a five mile further trail, blast yer pic- ter!” growled Jerry, as he stepped’ quickly forward to the spot at which the dog seemed to have taken the scent, “Yes, yere’s the track ag’in, sure as shootin’,” he Ea hg “The dog’s got a good nose, as | said ore, The spot at which the trail was again taken up was beyond the stony locality. A thin turf here cov- ered the ground, with a slight spread of fallen leaves. But Jerry seemed to have no difficulty in recognizing the tracks of the deer, and he ste. ped forward at a 00d pace. They had now passed the curve on the hill, about half-way toitssummit. A few minutes more brought them to the foot of the Bee slope, the bottom of the inclive here Being clothed in bushes. be hrough these Jerry made his way, following a path which he said had been made by the Geer. ; ‘Our buck’s gone through it,’ he continued. “They know these bush openings, and don’t make new tracks ’cept they’re in a desp'rate hurry. Aha! It’s jest as I spected. The critter’s been tryin’ his antlers,” Pierce followed the direction of his finger, which ointed to a bush whose branches appeared to have een freshly broken. They were rent in an upward direction, as if by a lifting force, and the splintered wood was yet moist. “wo t@ you sure it was the deer?” asked Pierce. Some of Joe Smith’s party came this way.” ‘Sure! repeated Jerry. “I’m certain, anyhow, and that’s as good assure. ‘"Tain’t possible ye don’t know that a man breaks a limb one way, and a deer another? A man’s fist pulls things down, but a deer’s horns lifts them up. You kin bet yer level dollar that’s no human’s handiwork. Come ahead. The scent’s gettin’ warm.” A mile further on it grew cold again. A most un- promising bit of stone intervened, over which Jerry made his way slowly and doubtfully. “1'd try the dog's nose ag’in, only I’m feared of his tongue,” he remarked. ‘Here's the soft s’ile; but I'll sw’ar I’ve lost the trail. Ah! yander’s what I was lookin’ fur.” He stepped briskly forward to where a slight gurgling sound anounced the presence of flowin water. A spring burst out at this spot from beneat the rock-bed, its waters flowing in a narrow rivulet through the forest, their course marked by a line of fresher verdure. Jerry was in a moment beside the flowing rivulet, his one sharp eye eagerly following it in its down- ward course, “Good!” he cried, after a minute. ‘‘ Ye kin ’most allers trust a buck’s love of a drink. Thar’s where our pon A ced come for water. And yander—by—” We will not repeat the oath that fell from his /ips, as he cast a reproachful look at Nebby, who shrunk back as if he knew himself in fault. ““Thar’s no use talkin’; but it’s enough to make a saint sw’ar!” “What is wrong now?" _ ‘The scary critter had his nose in this very water, when that confounded dog let out, a while ego. it’s all here in the mud. Thar’s the quick step he made when he heard the yelp. An’ here’s whar he stood. with his head up, sniffin’ the air. He sprung from here, Ye kin see how his hoofs pa the mud. bet high he went off like a flash of lightnin’ at that rascally brute’s yelp.” He cast another glance of reproach at Nebby as he stepped over the stream and took the trail again, while Pierce was yet curiously engaged in reading Ey pelisele indications in the muddy banks of the et. Meanwhile the remainder of the party, Seo aia ed in their deer-hunt, and having unaccountably lost sight of the scout, had returned to the camp, a little disposed to grow] at their ill-luck. They fully expected to find their missing»friend awaiting them at the tents. He was not there, how- ever. A slight sense of uneasiness at his protracted absence arose in their minds, which increased as an hour rolled by without his putting in an appearance. The repcrted presence of Mark Preston in that vicin- ity gave them just cause for apprehension. “Did any of you see Joe Smith and his party?” asked Harry Waters anxiously. “He was a tall, lank, raw-boned chap, was he not?” asked Ben. in Exactly. You know Mark Preston, was he with im? “No. Smith was alone. I met a couple of his followers afterward, but I certainiy did not see Preston.” “TI tell you what, boys,” cried Harry, ‘‘there’s deviltry afoot, We must do something. I move we start out on a scout for our missing friend. Sure as you live, he is in trouble.” * Agreed *? exclaimed Jack Hasard. ‘‘And take the dogs. Their noses will be better fhan our eyes.” In five minutes more they had set off, in different directions, through the forest, preceded by the two dogs, Pete being left alone in charge cf the camp, CHAPTER IX. THE SEARCH FOR THE MISSING MAN. Tun five men who thus started from the camp in search of Will Wildfire branched off in as many di- rections, each toward some point where the missing man might have been likely to proceed for practice with the rifle, he having taken no other weapon. The down-stream reute was the most promising, and Harry Waters and Ben Huntly, took their course, each followed by one of the dogs. Harry crossed to the west side of the creek Pete setting him over and then rowing the boat back to the camp. Len, with the older pointer, followed the eastern hank In a minute more they had all disappeared in the deep forest, the crackle of dead leaves beneath their tramping feet bad ceased, and silence reigned around thé deserted camp. ‘Spec’ dey t'ink I likes dis,” grumbled Pete, as he slowly paddled the boat back. ‘* Ain’t nuffin’ to do *cept to roll *bout on de grass while dey’s out hunt- in’. Got a mighty good mind to go a-fishin’. Don’t b’lieve nobody’ll run ’way wid de plates an’ vittals. Hoopee! won't dar be fun ef dey come back an’ fine Pete a-missin! Spee’ dey’ll_be arter me wid dem hounds jess as dey’s arter Marse Will—an’ a little boot-leatber to foller up de hounds. Dat’s de wuss feature *bout it.” , i eh slowly fastened the bcat to the bank, still cogi- tating: “ Wonder ef dar gin’t no catties in dis yar creek? I's bound to fine dat out. I’s jess tired of pearch.” The attraction was too strong to resist, In a few minutes Pete had provided himself with a line and a proper supply of bait, and was making his wa: along the creek bank in search of a promising locali- ty for ‘catties.” “Muss git back fore de boot-leather comes in,” he muttered. *‘‘Dat’sa kind o’ exercise which dis nig don’t *preciate.” While Pete was thus engaged in the ancient and honorable sport of fishing, the others were scouring the woods in quest of their missing comrade. For several miles they thus proceeded, examining every point where the atiraction of game would be likely to have drawn him, but without finding him or any trace of his recent presence. Nor were the dogs more successful than the men, They put up abundance of quail and rabbits, and a stray woodcock or two, but they could not be made to understand that larger game was now required, Ben Hunily’s dog struck the same course he had . followed on the previous day. He led eagerly past « tite
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the swamp and through the thicket, stopritg, every now and then, to point some concealed bird. But Ben flushed this game without mercy, and ushed on for the open woods below. Suddenly the nce paused, snuffed the ground eagerly for a min- ute, and then gave a long, whining cry. The instinct of the hound was aroused in him. With his nose to the grass he ran slowly onward, whining at intervals. “What in the blazes is he after?” queried Ben. “Tt must be a cold scent, or his keen nose would take it up quicker than that. He is heading straight for the creek,” A few minutes brought them to the bushy borders of the stream. Ben stopped suddenly, exclaiming with angry emphasis: “Shoot me if this isn't where the deer took to the water! The dog is on its old trail. Come bere, Car- lo. A blamed good nose you’ve got, my lad, but we don’t want to follow such old issues. I hope Harry will have more luck, for I'll bet a cow I’m on the wrong side of the water.”’ He continued his search, however, following down io narrow space between the creek and the moun- tain. As for Harry Waters, who was searching the woods beyond the creek, he had as yet no greater luck, The sharp-scented dog took up more than one trail, but ay were near the runaways on the moun- tain where Jerry Prime had posted his perk © and he whistled Sport sharply from these distracting scents. **Don’t want to follow our own footsteps,” he ad- monished the eager brute. ‘‘Let us strike further south. Willi may have gone in this direction.” He continued onward for a mile without success, the wood opening out as he advanced, and present- ing long, sunny vistas. : “There’s Pierce Browning, too, among the miss- ing,’ soliloquized Harry. ‘i wonder if he has struck on Will, and if the pair of them— Hallo! Sport. What’s up, lad? What have you struck, my hearty?” ‘ The dog was running about, with his nose to the gronnd, occasionally giving vent to a sharp ce “He has something there, sure. Not a bird, either, for Will says he pointed beautifully yester- day. Come, lad; after it, hearty!’ With a fresh yelp the ae dog ran eagerly forward, with his nose to the ground, giving Harry all he could do to follow him. “Steady! Steady, there! Slow up, boy! slow up, you brute!” . Whistling the animal back, and forcing him to proceed at a slower pace, Harry followed his devi- ous course, which led through the open wood, but over more than one hill, and across more than one valley. He finally reached the beautiful green val- ley in which Wiilhadcaught sight of the buck an hour ur two before. It was now silent and deserted, With littl: thought of its beauty, Harry crossed it quicily, in the rear of the dog, who ran up the op- posite hill, Instead of continuing the course he had so far pursued, the animal now turned and traced his way along the northern declivity of this bill, giving vent to another cry as he did so, His yelp was echoed a moment afterward by the sharp report of a rifle and by a crasbing sound, asif some heavy body had fallen, Harry darted eagerly forward, following the swift- running dog. Indeed, more than ons interest had been converg- ing upon this locality, for the fugitive deer, whose wan is Hage had been so closely and shrewdly followed Jerry Prime and his Bepreiice in the art of woodcraft. Pierce Browning, had, after man devious turns, led back toward the region whic’ Harry Waters had just reached. We take up the thread of the still hunt again at a point in which it had become of deep interest to the wo huntsmen, Will Wildfire in the Woods. They had struck a most unpromising piece of ground, and for a full quarter of a mile Jerry had been at fault, having lost all indications of the trail. “It’s durned queer,” he cried, after a further un- successful effort. “ve picked up a trail in con- sid’ble wuss ground than this, and not stopped at once nor twice neither. That chap’s been goin’ as quiet as an old cat on the track of a mouse. Ef he’d put his foot down heavy I couldn’t miss it, no- OW “How would it do to try the dog again?” suggest- ed Pierce. “Tt wouldn’t do fur nothin’. Tharain’t no trustin’ his tongue, ye see. Ef he were to give tongue now, that deer would go like a streak; fur if it ain’t in easy hearin’ then don’t buy me fur a scout.” a ‘Back, Nebby! Back, lovely!’ he continued, as the dog showed a desire to press forward. ‘ Back, I say, you crop-eared reprobate, or I’ll bu’st yer biler! Ye'’re too consarn:d eager fur a dog as ed been trained like a gentleman— Aha! by the seven blessed pipers, ther’s luck fur them as waits fur it!’ He sprung quickly forward as he spoke. Pierce watched him curiously. A smooth-barked beech epee its wide boughs over the spot where they stood. The woodsman closely examined the bark of this tree, at a spot in which its smooth skin appeared to have been frayed. ‘“ Jist as I jedged!” he exclaimed. ‘That seratch was made by a deer’s antlers. And see here! Here he stopped to browse, Any old hand could tell at a flash that a deer’s teeth cropped that grass. All’s lovely again, Mr. Browning. ell be on him in a jity. Keerful now. Keerful, Nebby.” e walked cautiously forward, with his rifle at a trail, his eye fixed keenly on the ground. “Yes, yes, yere’s the trail again, lively. D’ye see that leaf?” He showed Pierce a dead leaf with a slight punc- ture near its point in a curved shape. “Thar ye’ve got the p'int of the buck’s hoof pho- vo jist as plain as if it was took by oneof them double-barreled likeness m es. An’? I doubt ef it’s ten minutes since he went over this ground. Steady, now. steady!” They went forward for a few paces more, Jerry was walking with acat-like tread, which Pierce tried in vain to emulate, They were ascending a slizht incline, covered by large trees, and with clumps of bushes here and there. . “You ain’t seen this deer yet, Is’pose?” said Jerry ina subdued tone, * And don’t half b’lieve it’s here? You can’t swal- ler that a woodsman kin tell whar a deer has trav- eled, and whar he is, jist as sure as ef the critter stood afore his eyes?” “Tt is hard to credit,” acknowledged Pierce. ‘* Well, you shall see with yer own two eyes, an’ mighty soon, In ten steps more we'll top that hiil, and ef we don’t see a full-horned ‘buck on _t’other side, and in good rifle-shot, then don’t b’lieve ms ag’in, that’s all. Nebby, you villain! Drop that now, ef you know when ye’r’ well off.” He shook his finger warningly at the doz, who was growing very uneasy. “* Don’t break a twig or a leaf,”’ whispered Jerry. “Them boots of yourn come down like pile-drivers, Now, now, keerful!” A step or two more and their heads overtopped the brow of the hill; Jerry held his hand back warning]; to the dog, and stopped his companion with a touc from the other hand. “Don't tell me!” he whispered, while an inaudible laugh marked his face, *‘Come up one step more. Look yander, atween the two oaks! A perfect beauty, ef Leversee’done. Don'ttalk ‘bout trailin’. D'yve twig him?” “Yes,” replied Pierce in an eager tone, as his eyes fell on ee spectacle to which his experienced guide was pointing. “here, near the foot of the slope, quietly grazing
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Will Wiidfire in the Woods. 1% heeacatn the green herbage on the edge of the valley, stood a stately buck, his branching antlers almost sweeping the ground as he bent to browse the rich grasses. It was doubtless the same deer, and almost at the same spot which Will Wildfire had aimed at an hour or two before, when his shot had been so fatally in- terrupted. *‘Hist! Don't make a leaf crackle. It’s as pretty ashot as I ever see’d. Shill I drop him; or d’ye want to 'ry your hand?” “Tt looks too much like murder," rejoined Pierce, as he raised his rifle. “Murder be derned!”’ was Jerry’s contemptuous reply. ‘‘ We folks. as is in the trade, git over sich sentimental idees as that. Howsomever. I kin easy make him lift his head, ef ye’d prefer to take him that way.” “*T certainly should.” “Ailright. Geta good bead on bimfu'st. Ef you Serene him, mind, my old rifle’s gos to show her metal.” Pierce had the rifle at his shoulder, his eye on the sights, and waited patientiy until Jerry should startle the deer into lifiing its head; when, froma short distance to their right came the quick sharp yelp of a dog. , ‘he deer’s head went up like a flash, his nostrils dilated, his eyes glancing quickly to right and left. “Drat that dog!” cried Jerry. “Quick! He’s ‘coin’ to jump! Aim a foot over his head, and let rive!’ Pierce had never pulled trigger on a deer before. but he was a fair rifleman, and his nerves were at thie instan as steady, his sight as true, as if he had been cast in bronze. The spring of the deer and the crack of bis rifle were simultaneous. Jerry bad raised his weapon in readiness if Pierce should miss. But, there was no need of a second shot. The . form of the bounding anima! seemed to suddenly collapse, the stately head dropped, the legs stiffened out. The force of the leap carried him twenty feet through the air, when he came down with a crash- ing thud, striking on the points of his antlers, and rofitiige over in a headlong somerset. “Don’t want no extra bullet thar,” remarked Jerry, lowering his rifle. “Never see’d a purtier shot, for a greenhorn.” “All chance ” ry Pierce, as he looked with some pride on th? lifeless figure of the animal. “TI couldn’t do it again.” “Don’t know bout that. Chance don’t give nerve and eyesight.—Bus whar’s that blamed dog?” A noise in the bushes answered him. Nebby started forward growling. and showing his white teeth, His master followed. **Mought as well see what it all means.” A dozen paces took them out of the bushes, into a little opening, into which Harry Waters and his dog emerged at the same time. But neither party went further, for there in the center of this opening, lay the lifeless form of Will Wildfire, his face the hue of death, while the blood slowly oozed from a spot near his temple. CHAPTER X. PETE GOES A-FISHING, AND GETS CAUGHT. “ Don’r b’lieve dar’s nothin’ but pearch in dis yere creek,” grumbled Pete after a half-hour’s fishing, in which he had brought ue a slender show of yellow beauties. ‘It’s catties I’se arter, and I don’t want none o° yer old pearch.” Wrapping his line around the pole he started down the creek in search of a locality in which catfish might be found. Dropping the line in at any prom: ising print. he slowly moved downward, until he was nearly a mile below the cara X At length a sudden tug at the extremity of his line buried the floating cork, and wakened Pete from his listlessness, “*S’pose it’s anoder pearch. Bites like one.” he muttered, as he gave a quick jerk to fasten the ho andthen, with a strong, steady pull, lifted the line from the water. At its extremity bung a naked-skinned, whitish fish, with flattened heat, and wide, sickle-shaped jaws. “Ef dar ain’t a catty!” cried the delighted bey, as he quickly landed his catch. “A reg’lar brown- backer, too; jess de bess kind, an’ fat as buttcr. But I isn’t gwine ter slide from yere s’long asdar’sa catty left.” Removing the fish from the hook with great care, for Pete knew better than to f. ol with catfish spines he baited his hook and threw it in again, seatin: himself luxuriously on the sharp root of an ol chestnut, which here overlooked the stream. For a half-hour more he co.tinued to fish, with varied success, adding several catiies, and some other fish to his first catch “ Bet I’se gwine to keep dese catties in de pan till de folks is all filled up. Den VIlax ’em, ‘Don’t ye lub catty?’ an’ dey’ll say, ‘Bet we does, Pete, but don’t want to bu’st on fish.’ Den I'll come in dis way—' Ain’t so berry hungry, but don’t like to see good vittals sp*ile.’ An‘ de way dem catties ‘ll slide down dis nig’s throat! Yaw! yaw! I's got to laff when I t’inks— Hey! w’a’s dat?” Pete’s laugh was suddenly changed to an intent observation of the stream. It curved just above him, and around that curve, a minute before, a boat had appeared, rowed by a skillful hand. but the boy was just then too intent on his fish to vereeive what was ging on around him. When, at leugth, his keen eyes did get sight of the boat its oc- cupant had disappeared. ard it was floating down, the center of the channel ei ieee unoecupied. “Ef dar ain’t our skiff!” ejaculated the boy. “Ob, lawsee! we'll hab boot-leaiher now, sure. Dere’s dat ole cook Jack ‘Il kick Pete ag froo de eamp. Mustn’t tied it right when Ifotched it back from t’other side. Dar it goes!” Pete stood looking wistfully at the floating boat, which was now opposite him, the curve of the chan- ne] here taking it near the opposite shore. “Dar’s no use talkin’,’’ continued the boy. ‘“I’s gwine fur dat boat.” He kieked off his shoes as he spoke, threw his jacket and his cap on the soil, and carefully laid aside his rod and line. “Ugh!” he exclaimed, as he set his bare foot in the water, and drewit back witha shudder, ‘‘It’s jess as cold ’s if it come from an ice-house. Good deal sooner stay whar I is. Can’t get dat boat dough. *thout goin’ for it, Anyhow, it’s on’y de fu’st jump dat hurts.” Pete drew slightly back, made a short run, and dived into the flowing water. He came up after an instant, spluttering and shivering, but swimming valiantly after the escaped boat. **S*’pose dere’s nothin’ like cold water fur de narves,”’ meditated the boy, ashe continued to swim. ~ But dar’s some med’cine as isn’t good fur de feel- in’s. The boat was on the other side of the creek, sev- eral yards below him, and floating rapidly with the strong current. But Pete was like a fish in the wa- ter, and gained on it at every stroke. In twoor three minutes he was near enough to graspiits side, and draw himself partly out of the water. “Hope de oars is in it,” he muttered, drawing himself further up. “ It’s *mazin’ queer dis boat got loose anyhow. Dar’s no tellin’ how tings does hap- en.”” i He had now drawn himself half out cf the water. What was his astonishment to see the form of a man suddenly raise up in the center of the boat, while a strong hand grasped him by the arm, with a quick, vigorous lift. . ‘*Marse Preston!’ ejaculated Pete, in surpriseand dread, as he was lifted into the boat. “There’s no telling how things happen, you krow,” said his captor with a grim smile. te looked nervously around him, and was on ne —
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2 “ep is Will Wildfire in the Woods. Ne the point of screaming for help, when his speech was cut short by a choking hand at his throat, and he was pressed helplessly down into the boat. “he iufernal young hound, I owe him a settler!” growled the irate id Saad setting his knee on the breast of the helpless boy. And the boat glided on, under the blue sky, and the shade of Cee haaging trees. It was some time after this that, into the water- side camp, was borne the body of Will Wildfire, still insensible, though evidently not dead. The other boat had been moored further up the creek, by some of those who had seareved in that direction. These had now returned, however, bring- ing the boat with them, and setting the mournful proc ‘ssion across the creek. “Not as he’s dead,’ remarked Jerry. ‘That bullet couldn’t ’a’ bored in, or the man wouldn’t shivered afterwards. But a bullet in the temple ain’t to be sneezed at, even if it’s only a touch.” Where is Pete?” asked Harry of those who had returned before. -The Lord knows! He was gone when we got in, He and the boat. Likely enough the young hound is out on a fishing excursion.” \\ hile they bore Will into the tent, and were maki: efforts to resuscitate him, Jerry took the remai ing boat, and dropped down the creek, with inte t to bring in the slain deer. H+ vame back in half an hour, in company with Joe Snith, whom he had met in the woods. They brous t the deer with them, and hung it up in a tree near ¢¢ camp, over the snuffing noses of the impa- tien dogs. “Hov is it turned out?’ asked Jerry, as he pro- ceede.t quietly to open the dead animal. ‘ Hope it ain't b ena settler?” ‘“‘No. He shows signs of coming to. After all, the billet glanced on the bone, and did not enter. It was ‘he shock that upset him.” “Doa't I know that?’ answered Jerry, coolly. “Got h» bullet here. Dug it outer the tree beyand whar h » stood.” He xtracted it with finger and thumb from his vest pocket, and handed it to Joe Smith. A quick emotiou seemed to affect that individual on examin- ing it. “*Do vou mean to say that the man was shot by this bu let?” he exclaimed, * Wa |, it’s about that,” drawled Jerry. “ An! nave any of ye a notion who done it?” “You,” replied Ben Huntly. ‘We fancy it was one of he gentlemen whom you led to the hunt, The on: called Mark Preston.” “Ti be walloped if it wasn’t, then!” ejaculated the tall woodsman. ‘‘He had my old rifle. And if this ain’: one of the identercal bullets I poured fer it this very mornin’, then I don’t know my own pri- vate mark, that’s all.” There was a decided stir in the camp at this posi- tive anvouncement. ** Where is he?” asked Harry. “Not much doI know. The rest has gone back to Coalville, but he ain’t turned up. Mebbe he’s got panic struck with the notion that he’s done murder, and made tracks from vhese diggin’s.” “Diln’tI hear say that the boat were missin’?” asked Jerry, as he proceeded with his task of skin- ning the deer. At this sugges’ion, Harry walked quickly to the point at which the boat had been fastened. “It was not P.te that took it, he announced, “The rope is not untied. It has been cut; and by a very sharp knife.” ‘Thought so,” said Joe, coolly, *‘‘He’s been oe Been afeard that his legs wouldn’t old ont ina cross-country tramp, so he’s took to the ereek, ’specting to make a good lift by water.” “But where’s the boy?” asked Ben. “ Off on some deviltry, I spose. That’s what gin- erally runs in boys’ heads.” Joe Smith was not loth to accept an engagement to go down the creek in Fareuib of the stolen boat. Without stopping to cavil on terms, he whistled his dog to his heels, and set off at a round pace, along the downward course of the stream. Meanwhile, Jerry continued his task of skinnin and cleaning the ,ame. He had barely Bcishel when the lank form of Joe Smith stalked again into bey ar at the same pace with which he had eft it. ‘Does any of you_reckernize them articles?” he aske ,as he threw down a coat, cap and pair of shoes, together with a wrapped-up fishing-line. * Yes,” was the reply. “* a ey were Pete's. Where did you find them?” “Bout a half-mile downstream, ‘There's bigger deviltry afloat, yit. The boy jumped overboard, and didn’t come back for these traps. There’s some’at durned odd *bout the whole bizness.” “What is to be done?” asked Harry, Joe drew Jerry aside, and the two woodsmen stood conversing for several minutes, while the others waited the result of their deliberations. “It’s two good hours to sunset,”’ Joe at length an- nounced. ‘if you want to catch this hound, we mought put in some neat work at that time.” “Of course we want to catch him!” cried Pierce, who just then appeared from the tent, ‘and to pay him up in good coin for this murderous attempt.’ ‘*Your friend ain’t no worse, is he?”’ asked Joe. “No; beis coming to Will be ail right in an hour. But what is your plan?” “Why, me and Jerry, with the dorgs, will go down-stream, and keep an eye open fur trails on both sides. Maybe he'll ’scape our eyes, and our dorgs’ noses, but I've a notion he won’t. The same time a couple of you kin take a boat and foller him down-stream, An’ take partick’lar care to loskinto every water-hole or bush. He mought hide some- where to fling us. Is’pose there’s some of ye who can handle an oar?” “Try us,” replied Ben Huntly, with a smile at his friends. “It is likely we can handle an oar wee anybody on the Carbon; or on the Schuylkill, either. “Let’s be off, then. When a plan’s laid, every minute spent in talk is jist wasted. Set Jerry across the creek. I'll take this sid+. And mind ye, when we go on a track we mean work, Ef he ain’t run down to-night, he mought be to-morrow. Jist say the word and there’ll be no Jet-up.” In five. minutes more the scouting-party had set out, the two woodsmen on foot, and Ben end Harry at the oars, CHAPTER XI. TREED. At a point about six miles below the camping- ground, on the bank of Carbon Creek, the glare of a bivouac fire throws itself across the stream, and lights up the somber forest depths on the other side of the waters. The night air is very chilly, and the four men surrounding the bright flame crowd in closely to its radiant warmth, “Don’t know nothin’ better nor fire; ’cept it’s water,” remarks Jerry Prime, rubbing his hands be- fore the blaze as though he were washing them, “Or Whisky,” chimes in Joe Smith. Harry Waters and Ben cea form the remain- ing members of the party. _Squatting in Indian fashion they sit looking into the vivid flames, while the flash of the firelight kindles up their faces pve gleams through the woodland avenues bebin them. ““T hope our blaze won’t draw any wild beasts in this direction,” remarked Harry, looking over his shoulder, “I suppose though, there’s nothing left in these regions more dangerous than a rabbit or a ground squirrel.” * Think so, hey?’’? drawled Jerry. “Yes, There have been too many wide-awake rifles about these mountains for the health of wild beasts,”
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. id nesetimee “ Now don’t ye be goin’ away with any sich no- tio s* returned Jerry. ‘“‘They’re thinned out, I guvin tu that. But thar’s a good show of wild ground ‘bout these mountings, and I’ve a solid notion that #2 stray catamount mought be kicked up yet.” “T nope to the stars that none of them will pay us a visit,” and Harry looked nervously behind him. “Oh! they aren't as thick as strawb'ries in a patch. The last I seen was—let me see—well, a, good ten years back. I were comin’ over the flank of old Cromlech—that’s the tall mounting ye mought ha’ glimpsed off yander, to the sou’-east’ard. It were a good two o'clock in the mornin’ by the stars, Didn’t carry no other watch in them days. Waal, I were comin’ to feel bitter lonesome, fur the night war dark an’ chilly, an’ I'd a good six mile afore me. Sudden enough I heerd a sound that jist made my blood stand still for one minute. Can’t venture to describe it. Somethin’ atween a squeal an’ a scream. It’s one of them things thar’s no words fur, but which no old hunter ever thinks is a stray baby or a stragglin’ calf. Ef ye’d ever heerd a catamount, ye wouldn’t want no dictionary to reck- ernise his voice.” “T suppose you thought it a good time to try your speed?’’ suggested Ben. “Yes, I'd thought’s o’ that kind. But these eritters slip ‘long the ground an’ the trees at a *mazin’ pace. And, I dunno whether it’s by smell or no, but they kin foller a man like a hound follers arabbit. It come to me, then, to stand still, and wait. Besides, I took a sudden hankerin’ arter that chap’s hide.” “And I suppose he had a wuss hankerin’ after your hide,” drawled Joe. * Well, as lwar sayin’, I hadn’t come to anchor five minutes afore I heerd a sudden rustle in the leaves, and then I cotched sighs of suthin’ bigger nur any hornets’ nest a-top a long bough, not fifty feet off. But thar were never no hornets’ nest lit up by lanterns like that brute’s eyes. Ther’ were some blinks 0’ moonlight then, ye see, that sent me the glint of ’em; an’ it weren’t the most comfor’ble light as ever shined on me, you bet.” “ You had your rifle?” asked Harry. “Ef I hadn’t I’d ha’ been breakin’ my neck over stick an’ stone fur my shanty. ‘stead 0’ waitin’ fur aninterview. I weren’t long in drawin’ a bead, nei- ther. But the whole thing had been outrageous sud- dent. lstoodin the open, in a patch o’ moonlight, an’ the critter were crouched fur a jump when my eyes grabved him, He were in the air afore I could touch the trigger.” “That was what I should call a critical situation,” remarked Ben, ““Wuss nor fever an’ ager. I jist rattled in my ’ boots, I shook so. But it weren’t no place to lose neive. I hed the rifle at my shoulder, and got it printed upward, when down come the brute. Sure as you live his breast struck squar’ on the muzzle. Down I went ’sif I’d been hit by a stroke of light- nin’. an’ I shet my eyes fur a minute, not ‘spectin’ to see the sun ag’in. But, whether ye'd believe ’t or no don’t matter, but_sure’s you set thar that stroke set off the rifle. AsI went down the solid old critter spoke out in her sharp, saddent way, but it war all so mixed up with screamin’, an’ rippin’ an’ rollin’ that ye’d thought an earthquake had broke its l:al- ter, “NotasI hadn’t an idee of what had took place; but T crawled outer that like a cat up a back fence,” ‘fore | ventured to look, Thar was that brute a-toss- in’, an’ snarlin’, and bitin’ the ground like all pos- sessed. °Twarn’t healthy round thar jist then. I rammed another charge down the barre! quick asa flash} an’ fired at the bunch. for ye couldn’t told for yer life which was head an’ which was tail. Thot bnilet hit him in a tender spot, for he straightened out jist the suddentest, an’ it were all over with that painter.” Tt was past midnight when Jerry had finished his ae story. The moon, which had shed a faint luster over the trees, had now sunk beneath the dis- = tant mountain line. All was deep gloom, excey-t in the narrow space lit by the eamp-fire. _ “hope we won’t have any such gentlemen sinell- ing around here,’ remarked Harry, as he sleepily stretched himself out. * Ain't much fear of that,” returned Joe Smith, toasting his huge feet before the fire. ‘‘ Guess Jerry shot the last of ’em that time.” “* Anybody as don’t b’lieve it, jist let °em step rp to my Shanty, an’ I’ll show ’em the skin,” asserted Jerry. ‘Don’t fancy myself that catamount is as xenty as caterpillars. But thar’s one thing I do now. Thar’s b’ar in the mountings yit.” “ Bar?” asked Harry, doubtfully. “Bear,” he means,” growled Joe. ‘‘ He ain’t much on eddication, ain’t Jerry.” “It’s allus been b’ar, ever since I could squint,” ersisted Jerry. ‘‘Mebbe Joe’s gettin’ inter new- | fangled ways; but I ain’t that kind. Howsomever, *tain’t two days since one was sighted. Not ten mil*s from here, neither, Ther’s a party gotup now, that’s a-going fur him to-morrer. I mought take a band in’t myself, ef we get through this job in time. A big, black devil, they say, as’ll make fight. It a’most frightened Ned Bunting, who see’d it, out of ten years’ growth.” “Look a-here, Jerry,” growled Joe, from his re- cumbent position, “‘when are ye goin’ to shet up that talk-mill of yourn? If it’s sot to run all night, I'll move; that’s all.” Jerry, with the current of his eloquence thus sud- denly checked, seemed to struggle for a minute with ananswer. But not finding any suitable to the dig- nity of the crisis, he threw himself quickly back, grumbling out: “Oh! go to sleep. You're wuss nor a sore ear!’ Ten minutes afterward the whole camp was asleep and silence reigned over the midnight woods, The early hours of the next morning found all astir in the vicinity of the tents. Jack Hasard, aid- ed by Phil Carson, the remaining member of the ace was diligently occupied in the mysteries of reakfast, an occupation for which Jack had a special fancy. Pierce Browning and Will Wildfire were slowly walking up and down the edge of the creek, busily conversing. Wiil looked little the worse for wear. He was slightly pale, and a huge patch of sticking-plaster covered the vicinity of his right temple, but he poe hao to have gained his ordinary strength and spirits. ; The murderous bullet hed, in fact, struck glanc- ingly on his forehead, less than half an inch from the temple. His sudden movement in aiming at the deer had probably saved his life. The ball had struck the bone, and glanced off at a wide angle, plowing a furrow an inch long in his forehead, but producing only a flesh wound. His long insensibility had resulted from the shock tohis brain, but had produced no injurious result, Very probably the blood oozing from the temple had satisfied the villain of the death of his victim, as it had almost satisfied his friends, at first sight. “Matters have got to be squared between Mark Preston and me,” said Will, with his firm setting of | his lips. ‘It has gone far enough in this way. Hang me if I’m going to set myself up as a target for his rifle practice.’ “You are right there,”’ returned Pierce. ‘* I would shoot him down like a dog, if I were in your place.” “What can have become of that boy? I wouldn’t lose Pete for a little.” * Breakfast! Breakfast!’ roared Jack Hasard. “T haven’t any bell to aS you in; but here’s your venison steaks sizzing, and your potatoes as brown as gingerbread,” ‘No bell!’ repeated Pierce. ‘‘Why that voice of yours could outroar a hotel gong. ‘Come in, Will, yon need some strength.” The venison steaks were voted delightful, the po-
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80 Will Wildfixe tatoes fried to a turn, and the coffee a wonderful success, And it was astonishing what havoc their woodiand appetites made in the provender, “It is my treac,”’ said Pierce. ‘* Make yourselves at home, gentlemen, ‘It is my firstdeer, but 1 won’t be mean about it.” A thundering fool of a buck it must have been,” growled Jack, “to jump in the track of your rifle, It must have been sheer Providence, for I don’t believe you could hit a church side, at a hundred paces.” Thus chaffing and having a good time generally, they got through breakfast, af er which Pierce and Will, followed by the dogs, started off for a walk through the woods, They had no very defined object, though the thought was not absent from their minds that they might possibly aid in the search which their friends were making. “1 hardly know howl would act if we were to meet with Mark Preston,” said Will, ‘“ My inten- tions are not amicable, you may be sure of that. [ wouldn’t care to quite kill the fellow, though I would be glad to give him something to keep me in memory.’ ‘* He deserves a bullet,” answered Pierce, with a stern expression. ‘‘ Why not challenge the hound, and make him fight? To be sure shat would bea better chance than he deserves, but—’ “Oh! I don’t fear him,” rejoined Will. ‘He would not have the heart to stand before a man’s face.” They continued on for several miles, following the course of the creek. Finally the dogs got on the scent of game, and led them back into the woods where they succeeded in bringing down_severa parece Pierce alone had a snot-gun. Will had rought his rifle, and took no part in this sport. They were thus gradually ted up the incline of the mountain, which here ascended by a gentle slope. Yor a mile further they proceeded ia this direction, losing sight of game, though the dogs sought dili- gently. All at once Sport, the young dog, gave tongue, and started off with his nosa to the ground, “Come here! Here, you villain!” cried Will, an- grily. “Tt’s not a pointer’s businags to rum rabbits. ou are getting a very bad education.” As he spoke, Carlo, the older dog, struck the same scent He whined, yelped in a peculiar manner, and ran about in a distressed, uncertain sort of fashion. “That is no rab»it,”’ remarked Pierce, ‘The dog is at fault. Itis evidently a new scent to him, and one which troubles him. Let them go, Will, I am curious to know what sort of game this is,” Will answered by grasping his rifle at a tril, and following the dogs, which were already eagerly, but somewhat uncertainly, following the sc nt, Tt led on over the mountain flank. leading gradnal- ly upward, and then downward, into a glen that di- vided two hills. “See here!” cried Pierce, as they came to a clump of underbrush. ‘Phe creature, whatever it is, has fous straight through the bushes; and made no ight wake either. [tis some bulky animal.” * Another deer?” suggested Will. “No. Ihaven’: been ona deer trail for nothing. There has been no hoofs nor antlers here.” “What can it be then?’ asked Will, as they fol- lowed the dogs through the bushes, He'was answered by a sudden ery, in a distressed tone of yoice: aloud appeal for help. It seemed to come from their left, where a thicket of brambles barrel the way. With a loud yelp the dogs ran around the obstrue- tion, followed eagerly by their masters, who had just heard a renewal of the distressed call. “Here, Pierce; down the glen!’’ cried Will, dash- ing forward, with ready rifle, to where the dogs soorine. to have stopped, and were barking furi- ously. Pierce rushed through a corner of the brambly in the Woods. ) his toes kicked it oe when he jumped.” a} annie thicket, caring little for the thorns that rent his clothes in the excitement of the moment. A strange spectacle presented itself to them on passing this obstruction, Before them spread a smooth surface, shelving down to a brook that traversed the bottom of the glen, and thinly dotted with trees. Atthe fvot of one of these trees was the object at which the dogs were Brent a large, black, shaggy mass, out of whose rotundity rose a rounded head, with red tongue and gleaming teeth; while a pair of well-armed paws gave warning to the furious dogs. “A bear! by all that’s good!” cried Pierce. “Back, | Sport! Back, Carlo! He will tear you to pieces! A repetition of the ery for help now drew their eyes to the tree. What was their surprise to see, on the extremity of one of its lower limbs, to which he clung with a death-gripe, no less a person than the foe of whom they were in search, Mark Preston, Certain marks on the bark of the tree showed that the bear had ineffeetually pursued him. Failing in this it had stationed itself at the foot, wa‘ting pa- tiently untilits treed prey should fall into its open jaws. Evidently he had recognized them at the same in- stant, for a deep pallor spread over his embrowned face. Ele was treed by worse enemies than the bear. Treed by the ghost of Will Wildfire, as he for the mo:nent fancied r CHAPTER XT. SHOOTING THE RAPIDS, “D’yp,see them marks?” asked Jerry, pointing down ‘o the banks of the creek, at a locality where asmall bay set in from the main current, It was thickly overgrown with bushes, which hung down to the water’s edge, but which he had parted, in his careful search for traces of the fugitives. ‘* Here’s whar he spent the night,’’ he announced. “Ye kinsee whar the bow’s dur inter the mud, And the rope were tied to this saplin’. Dya see whar it’s frayed the bark? Ther’ weren’t never a book writ plainer.”’ ““What then?”’ asked Harry, ‘Did he take to the water again. cr has he tried to escape overland?” “That's what’s to be found out. it’s my pinion he tuk to the water,” “Of course he has,” exclaimed Ben, ‘The boat has gone.” “ Bless yer eyes, man, a boat kin swim without a rower, So that counts fur nothin’. What's your *pivion, Joe?” “He's uff by water,’ Joe quickly replied.,. - “Jist as | thought. Ye see, he stood here when he shoved off the boat. And he j -mped in as she went off. Thar’s his foot-marks in the mud, whar “We must: after him,” remarked Joe. ‘The fool dunno what's ahead of him, or he’d back water straight. “\What do you mean?” “Only that it’s not five miles to the rapids of the Carbon. A mighty bit o’ skittish water fer green- horns, you bet. If he tries to shoot ’em it’s a chance if he ain’t drowned, and his boat a a nto Ikind- lin’. Come, gentlemen, ther’s no time to lose in corertation.” At this hint the two young men sprung quickly into their boat. Ina minnte the oars were in the water, and they were swiftly rowing down-stream, Thev were both good oarsmen, Ben Hun'ly_ being eelebrated for his skill with the oar. Their blades fell with the precision of clockwork, and the boat shot swiftly forward under the impulse of their strength and skill. The Carbon was here some thirty feec wile, and ran with a rapid current, under the shade ef overhanging boughs. It was a fresh clear morning, and the two athletes highly enjoyed the exercise, and pulled with a vim which called }
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. 21 forth admiring encomiums from the two woods- men. * Dunno whar them young chaps l’arned it,” mut- tered Jerry. ‘ but they certainly know bow to feath- er an oar, Never s.en better pullin’, I'll sw’ar. That boat ain’t got muchly fur go, but they’re mak- in’ her dance. “ Ye’re right there,” Joe replied. “If they keep that up they’)] overhaul the hound ’fore he gits to the rapids. Let’s strike out, Jerry, cross corners, and head off the chase.” ‘“*Tain’t be t,” rejoined Jerry, shaking his head. “You kin go, but you’d best leave me to round the turns. We don’t want to overlap him.” “ Allright.” And Joe walked off at a quick pace through the woods, with the intention of cu!ting off the frequent bends of the Carbon, and thus heading the fugitive. Jerry at the same time followed the twists of the stream, getting first some distance in advance of the boat. And so the pursuit went on. It was what might have been called a blind trail. Nothing was seen but the water and the undisturbed earth, It is not necessary to repeat the old adage, that water leaves no trail, The stream flowed on, all unconscious of what had ruffled its waves the previous hour, And as for the land trail, the woodsmen were too confi- dent of finding the fugitive in the boat to kcepa very sharp eye on the ground ene were passing over. Nebby, the dog, it isirue, displayed a passing uneasiness, but he was sharply reproved for his folly, and afterward followed submissively his mas- ter’s steps, Yet it is never safe to let yourself be carried away by anidea. It was really Mark Preston’s footsteps that the keen-scented dog had discovered. Ihe scouts were correct in supposing that he had left his night’s place of rest in the boat, but he had taken an early opportunity to land; rather to his misfor- tune, as the reader may fancy, if he considers the quandary in which we found the villain in our last chapter, Some four miles down-stream, and witbin a mile of the rapids, Joe Smith at length sighted the fuyi- tive boat. But, to his surprise, it was floating quiet- ly on, instead of being rowed, as he had expected to find it. There wrs no trace of life about the drifting craft. ‘*That’s a durned queer sarcumstance,”’ remarked Joe, seating himself on the bank, and taking ‘liger’s | boa ed | stant on the very peak of the liquid declivity. headon hislap. ‘I dunno what your dogship trinys about it but it’s durned queer to me. There’s one o’ three thiugs sartain: the chap’s either dead, or drunk, or ay ‘He continued to watch the boat, as it floated down astraight reach of the water, much wondering at its deserted look. This silent espionage continued for some time, Joe slowly gathering his ideas, “Wonder if he’s gi’n us the slip?” he muttered. “Tl fetch him a hail anyhow. It mought stir him. Hey, the boat! Ahoy, there! Hey, my hearty! Rouse! rouse with a will, and be derned to you!” This vigorous hail was answered, after a minute, by the appearance of ahead above the gunwale of the boat. It remained visible but an instant. how- ever, and then disappeared. Yet in this glimpse Joe noticed something strange about it, a most. peculiar combination of white and black, which he could not understand. ; He hailed again, but without any success, The head failed to reappear. The scout shook his shaggy locks. “Dunno what to make of it, \'ll gi’n in to that. Wish the other boat were here. Ah! yanderit comes now, round the upper turn. And here’s Jerry.” veer fellow-hunter had just then emerged from the woods. “ Ain't struck nothin’,” he announced, “ Helio! By the blue hills of Connecticut. what’s up yander? Ye ain't twigged an empty boat nor nothin’ ha’ Y on i rt "Tisn’t empty, Jerry. Ther’s a chap in the bottom ofit. But jist whathe means I give up. Can't see through it.” ‘He's not ten minutes from the rapids, I bet that wakens him,” ‘And here comes our craft,’ said Joe, ‘Them fellers kin fling an oar, ther’s no use talkin’. But they’ll go to splinters in the rapids. You'd best git aboard, Jerry. You know ail the tricks of the waters,”’ : es a calk late so,” replied Jerry, with a knowing augh, A call from Joe caused the oarsmen to shift in to the shore, where the state of affairs was quickly ex- plained to them, In a minute more Jerry was seater ri the helm, and the boat bad pushed off again into the current, “Tt’s only Providence as ‘ll save that chap from drowndin’,” cried Joe. ‘‘Row like sin, | ’Tain’t wwth while to let bim commit suicide. I s’pose, though, he’s got as much chance down in the boat, as be would with the cars in his fists. Let out, lads. Ye may overhaul him.” Not far ahead a fretting and curling could be seen in the smooth bed of the stream. Joe ran quickly forward, anxious to observe the event of the danger- ous experiment. At the point which he soon reached the stream widened, and evidently shallowed, for a number of ugly rocks st.od above the surface. Betwien these the water swirled and twisted, shooting with race- horse speed down a steep incline, foaming violently, and occasionally leaping upward in_a wild fury. There were spots that looked assmooth and bright as amirror, and in which no one would have dream- ed of the great speed to which this smoothness was due. In others all was rush and uproar, as hidden rocks fretted the swift flood. The drifting boat came on, gaining speed with every minute, as in was swept into the resistless current of the rapids. As for the boat of the pursu- ers if had rapidly gained on the fugitive and was now not ten yards behind it. “'Thar’s danger ahead,’ warned Jerry. ‘‘ Hadn't we best swerve in ter shore? We won't gain nothin‘* by follerin’ that fool down the rapids.” “Can you take us down?” asked Ben, * Ain’t much *feard of that.” “Then let her slide, There’s nothing like taking | in new experiences.” At this moment the fugitive boat poised for an in- And again, at this instant, a head showed itself momently above the gunwale. The pursuers were not are to see it distinctly, but a loud shout came from Joe. “ Shoot us all for donkeys!’’ ‘he cried, ‘if we ain’t chasin’ t e Jittle nig! lt’s the missing blackbird that’s in the skiff,” * What, Pete?” exclaimed Ben, in an earnest tone. “ By Jupiter, we must save him, then, if it’s in the wood!” ©The boat’s struck the channel. and head on; by the best of luck!” cried Joe. ‘ Down—down he ‘oes |” s “Ship yer oars!” screamed Jerry. “Trim boat! And set as still as sparrersonafence, A feather mought upset us ‘mong these rocks.” The fugitive boat was shooting like an arrow down the first straight reach of the rapids. In a minute afterward the other boat struck the incline, and darted downwurd. It was like glidiog on an inclined plane of place, as they entered this first smooth reach of the treacherous rapids. Harry and Ben wondered for an instant where the danger was. Their backs were to the rocks, but they might have seen the peri! ef their situation in Jerry’s set, stern face, in the fixed glitter of his eye, and in his firm clutch of the tiller. o : ‘He's shootin’ the rapids like a breeze!’’ cried Joe. ‘Ha! the craft’s caught in the eddy! There it twists! The jaw-bone rock has gof it! Good —
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. heavens, men, it’s bein’ torn as if it was in the mouth of a grizzly bear! I wouldn’t give a toss of my old cap fur the little nig’s life! What ails him anyhow, that he sticks to the bottom?” The others could hear the rending of timber. but their own peril was too great for them to think of aught else. They were now shooting past rocks, swerving at quick turns into cross-reaches, darting under the edge of curling foam, “The boat's in splinters!’ announcéd Joe, ‘* But the nig’s above water yet. He’s hancin’ onto the keel. Bless my eyes, if he ain’t tied hand and foot! The hound’s been tryin’ to murder him, too.” ** How fur ahead?” yelled Jerry. “ Ye'll be on him in a minute. Stre’s you live he's cotched in an eddy! He’s whirlin’ like a dead leaf! If ye’ve the mind to riskit, you mought grab fur him in Benen: 1t’s the on’y chance, but it mought beach you all. Without a moment’s hesitation Ben Huntly twist- ed round in his seat so as to face ahead. It was a frightful sight that he beheld. All before him seem- ed a strange mingling of rocks and foam, and toss- ing waves, through which no safe passage app ‘ared possible, And just in advance, in a little bay-like corner of the flood, an odd-looking mass was shoot- ing round and round in a swift eddy. “Quick! Ther’s on’y one chance. Ef you miss him it’s all up, mebbe with him and you both!” cried Joe, Az for Jerry, he had but one duty to perform. His single eye was fixed keenly on the rocks ahead. He had three lives to save. The fourth must trust to its own chances. But as they passed the whirling eddy, Ben, who had crouched down in the boat, with his arm ex- tended outward, made a quick, successful grasp at the twisting mass. He made no perilous effort to draw it from the water, but with a vigorous hand, pressed it firmly against the side of the boat. In an instant more the darting craft shot past the eddy, leaped between two rocks in front, and turned into a new channel, grazing one rock so closely that the sleeve and part of the flesh was torn from Ben’s arm. But, despite the sharp pain he held on with a death gripe, retaining, with all his strength, his prize against the ferocious water, which sought to tear it from his grasp. Another quick swerve around a rock to the left, and a broad smooth channel lay before them. They were still in the ravids, and darted forward with un- checked speed. But in another minute they struck the quiet waters below, Jerry giving a shout of triumph as the boat shot across the smooth stream poet by the roar of the rapids as by the cry of a affled tiger With Harry’s ail Ben’s prize was now lifted on board. It was indeed Pete. tisd hanl foot, and with a broad bandage drawn tightlyaround his mouth. A moment sufficed to free him from his bonds, and he made the first use of his liberty to stand up and take a long look at the peril just passed. “Golly, but dat wer: a high ole jump down-hill!” he exclaimed. “‘Lucky my mouf was tied up so oa or I mought a-swallered more water’n I want- ed. It’s ole Marse Preston dat’s done this, folkses, an’ if ye’s arter him he’s done struck ‘cross country fer de hills, hours an’ hours ago.” “And what made you lay there, like a log, in the bottom of the boat?”’ growled Joe. “Coz I were tied down. Jess’s much 's I coull do to git my head up. Got loose when de ole boat was jubbered inter toothpicks; but Jiminy! I t'ought it were all day with Pete.” “No use standin’ here,” said Jerry. ‘*We kin leave the boat. tll be safe. We've got to strike back fur that chap’s trail. I’d gi'n a cow to got on that b’ar-hunt to-day§ but ef we kin run down this wild-cat it’s "bout as good. Let’s strike out.” In flve minutes more they were making their way on the back track through the woods, aes CHAPTER XIIL THE FIGHT WITH TH® BEAR. Ir is about time that we were returning to the perilous position in which we left Mark Preston, treed by Jerry Prime’s bear, and in terror at what he deemed the appearance of Will Wildfire’s ghost. !.e trembled so that he with difficulty prevented ee from falling into the jaws of the patient ear. As for the two men who had just. discovere1 na strange thoughts passed through their minds, A short, grim laugh broke from Pierce’s lips. “ By all that’s good,” he exclaimed, ‘but our rat is caught in a neat trap. I move we back out of fhe quarrel, and leave him and the bear to settle it. Be- tween you and ma, I'd sooner see the bear get tie best of the fight.” “T don’t seo why Ishould put myself in danger to help him,”’ Will replied. “Here, Sport! Here, you little fool! You'll be eured im a hurry if that chap gets a paw ou you. Here, Carlo!” The dogs, who were barking furiously around the bear, which had reared itself on its hind Iegs in readiness to receive them, reluctantly obeyed this stern call. The irate animal followed them a few steps, fixing its ferocious eyes on their master. Bat as they withdrew with the dogs, the bear returned instantly to its station under the tree, evidently thinking that a bird inthe bush was worth two upon the wing. The involuntary prisoner had made a hasty moya- ment toward the trunk of the tree during this diver- tissement, with the hope of a possible escape from all his foes. But this hope died out at the return of the bear. The villain’s feelings of superstition had vanished in an instant. H+ realized in a second thought that they were living men that he saw, and he again piteously appealed for help as he beheld them dis- appearing inthe bushes. But they walked on, heed- less of his cries. and were soon hidden by the tall stems of the thicket. As for the animal it seemed to hesitate between two opinions. Now it took a few steps, in its rolling gait, toward the bushes, now returned and enzo wistfully up the tree, licking its red chops as if it fancied it was being very badly treated. Its next movement was toward Mark Preston’s rifle, which lay uselessly on the ground. This the bear picked up in its sharp teeth, and spitefully bat- tered it against the tree. ‘ Dropping the weapon the animal took another greedy observation of its foe, He was now on the thick part of the limb, near the trunk. Just what thouzhts passed through the bear's mind we will not venture to interpret, but the next moment he clasp- ed the tree-trunk, and began to make a lumbering ascent, Another piteous ery for help came from the lips of the unhappy man, at this new move of his foe. He hastily scrambled back aga‘n to the slender part of the branch, followed by the bear, which had now gained the limp Step by step the cautious creature advanced, clingiy firmly to the bough, while Mark caught an upper limb for support, and made his way out to where the wood was perilously weak. The bough, indeed, was bending dangerously un« der its double load. With his habitual caution the bear carefully paused at each movement to test its effect upon the limb, He stopped, at length, on finding that it swayed down at a perilous angle. | Only about three feet separated the fugitive and his pursuer, who remained crouched upon the branch, his small, fierce eyes fixed eagerly upon his prey, while the open jaws showed a row of uncomfortably sharp teeta, F Mark Preston looked despairingly down. He was twenty feet from the cround; too far to risk a fall, He tried, by swaying the limb, to shake off the brute; but Bruio clung firmly, and seemed rather to
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——___—_—__~ Will Wildfire in the Woods. 28 enjoy the exercise. He next looked eagerly for the men who had so coldly retreated, leaving him in his bitter peril. **Cowards!” he exclaimed. ‘‘Dastards! To leave @ man exposed to so cruel a death! Punish me as you will; but save me, oh, save me, from this fate!” The reader must not suppose that Pierce Brown- ing and Will Wildfire had any ious thought cf abandoning the wretch to the jaws of the bear. Their only idea was to punish him severely for his attempted crime. They were, in fact. now hidden behind the thicket, out of sight from their foe, but able to see, through chinks in the bushes, all that was going on. “By Jove, there’s a sitnation!” cried Pierce. “ He’s trying to shake the bear down; but Sir Bruin ain’t that sort of an apple. He doesn’t let go his hold so easily. Itis just as neat a bit of retribution as the day you horsewhipped him At the games.” “Had we better not go to his rescue?” asked Will. ‘“‘I don’t want to see the bear quite get him.” “No, no, you soft-hearted boy. Letthem have it out. He is good for a half-hour yet. Wait till you see his hair begin to turn white with the seare. It will be time enough then to try our hands ata bear-hunt.” It was fun, for those who could look upon it in that light, to see the ecnflict between Mark and the bear, In his despair he delivered a furious kiek at the animal. The alert creature canght the boot with his ready paw, and made a vigorous effort to pull Mark toward him. Bruin, failing in this, con- veyed the boot to his jaws, and’ began to’gnaw at it. Only by quickly jerking his foot out of the captured leather did Mark save his flesh and bones from being subjected to the same fate as the boot. ; Bruin contentedly gnawed away for a while, at his prize; not for an instant removing his eyes fram the trembling gee) whorn he hoped to serve in the same way before long. “Come, come,” said Will, his sense of humanity growing stronger than his desire for revenge. “Hadn't we better go to his rescue? You heard him give us the privilege to punish him in what way we would, if we only saved him from the bear.” **T fancy he is pretty seve punished already.” laughed Pierce, as he pickeu1 gun. “Thaven't had as sweet a morsel of sat Come on, then. [ think this of the mountains. Tt is undoubd 5 that Jerry Prime spoke of yesterday. well have the honor of killing him.” “*Tf he don’t turn the tables, and obtain the glory of killing one of us,” returned Will, examining the charge of his rifle. **I wish you had brought come- thing of more use than a shot gun.” “T will tickle him, anyhow, with a load of buck- shot,” replied Pierce, as-he drew the charges of his gun, and reloaded it. ‘She shoots hard, as my shoulder ean attest. I may hurt his feelings.” A ery of joy burst from the quaking prisoner of the bear, as he saw his hoped-for rescuers again approach. The animal saw them also, and at once pane to back down from the limb, with awkward laste. Ere he could reach the ground he was attacked by the uncontrollable dogs, who barked madly about him, sinking their teeth in his shaggy hide. ‘Here, Carlo! Here, Sport!’ yelled Pierce, “Here, you fools! He will tear you into ribbons, if he once gets his paws on you. Ware Sport!” His warning was too late for the younzer dog; for the bear, the instant he touched-the ground. struck the incautious brute with a quick dab"from his weil- armed paw. The yelping }ound rolled helplessly over, and was instantly caught in the crushing hug of the infuriated beast. bie i “Tt is all over with Sport,” Will sorrowfully re- Marked. “It is a pity, for he had the making of a Good dog. Shbail I revenge him bya bullet?” : " Are we near enough, do you think?” “Tcould hit a crown piece at that distance.” “Take him just back of the ear, then. That ought to find a vital spot.” Carlo, warned by the fate of his companion, was barking at the brute from a distance. Bruin now dropped the torn body of the younger dog, ani made a hasty assault pce his new foe, disconcerting the careful aim which Will was cca “Hold!” cried Pierce. ‘Our lives may depend upon that bullet. I will tickle him with buckshit.” Ere Will could object he had fired. The animal, slightly wounded, and furiously enraged, turned from the pursuit of the dog, and made a rapid dash toward those whom he recognized as his most dan- gerous foes. It was a critical moment. The bear was one of the largest of his species. end was no trifling foe to deal with. Only the single bullet in Will’s rifle stood between the two young men and imminent peril. Yet neither had ever seemed Jess nervous. Will stood like an oak post, erect and firm, with his eye firmly fixed on the dangerous foe, waiting with en- forced patience for the proper moment to fire. Not ten paces now separated them. The bear was making straight for him. The rifle was at his shoul- der with deadly aim; his finger pressed the trigger— and at this critical instant Carlo made a furious sna at we bear’s flank, causing him to quickly turn his head. It was an unlucky move, Will’s bullet, instead of traversing the brain of the fierce brute, struck him behind the shoulder, making a severe but aot dis- abling wound. Quickly turning again, the wounded brute sprurg furiously at his foe, who only saved himself by a hasty backward leap. It was a moment of immi- nent danger. Pierce still had a second barrel loaded with buckshot. Without an instant’s hesitation he advanced until the muzzle touched the brute’s ear, and pulled the trigger. At that short distance the shot had deadly effect. The animal fell heavily upon its side. and lay pros- trate for a moment, during which Will was hastily seeking to reload his weapon. . But with a sudden accession of strength and fury, it sprung again to its feet, and advanced on Pierce, who had incautiously remained too near to avoid this unexpected assault, In an instant the wounded brute was upon its hind legs, and had caught Pierce in its furious eim- brace. Now was there peril indeed! The hug of a full- grown black bear is no trifling matter, to say the least. But Bruin had caught a Tartar in Pierce Browning. The gigantic form and immense muscu- lar strength of the young man made him something of a match for his antagonist. Jn an instant he had the brute by the throat, keep- ing off his glittering teeth, and choking him with a vise-like grips, while he administered resoundin,: kicks on the creature’s side with his heavy boots. It was not. however, a comfortable sifuation fir himself. The k+en claws of the animal had already pote torn off his clothes, and were rending his esh. “Hold ona minute!” sereamed Will, as he ram- med down his charge with nervous haste, “and I will put a bullet through his head.” “Hold on!’ returned Pierce stoutly, ‘I can’t do anything else than ho'd on. Leave me alone, and I will whip the bear yet.” The blood of the young giant was up, and it did seem as if he might come out victor in the contest, though at severe cost to himself. as the creature’s claws were furiously rending his flesh. But at this moment the sharp crack of a rifle re- sounded in the woods to the left. It was followed by the deep bay of hounds, and by a rush through the bushes, ; The limbs of the bear instantly relaxed their hold, its head drooped over. With a quick jerk, Pierce tore himself loose from the weakened gripe, and flung the animal fu:iously from him, :
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} B4 Will Wildfire in the Woods, ““Why didn’t you leave me alone?” he angrily cried “I would have choked him down ina min- When | go into a fight I jike to have it clos«ly by Ben and Harry, rushed upon the scene, “Sorry 'o have disturbed yer little fun,” remarked Jerry. ‘But l’ve been hankerin’ arter a shot at that b’ar; and whenI see’l you an’ him tusslin’ it looked to ma like a good i hee a ‘*You got a second ahead of me,” said Will. “Things were getting too warm frfun. But you are badly wounded, Pierce. You are bleeding pro- fussly. This must be looked after, at once.” “*T’ll cure my sores with the hide of that bear,” Bees Pierce. ‘I think I won if, in fair bat- tle.” While Jerry, who professed a degree of surgical skill, was examining and preparing to bandage these wounds, Jog advanced toward the slain doz, Suddenly he raised his rifle, and called out: “Come bick, there; blast you for a sreakin’ hound! Quick, now, ’fore my finger gits narvous!”’ These words wers addressed to Mark Preston, who had taken the opportunity of the bear-fi to de- scend from the tree, and was hastily making off into the bushes. “Bick, consarn you!” growled Joe. ‘So ye treed him, hey; arter all our chase?” “The bear did,” answered Will, In a few hasty words he told the story of the affair, while Marx Preston reluctantly turned to this grern command, and slowly walked back toward his oes. “Stand thar, now!” continued Joe. ‘ Watch him, Tiger! We’ll’tend to you arter we git this gentle- man in order,” With bit lips and pale face the captured villain silently awaited the completion of the surgical per- formance, a cowardly tremor shaking bis whole frame. It proved that Pierce had received no dangerous wounds. though the flesh had been badly torn on his legs and shoulders. “What's to be done with this chap, now?” asked Joe, with a grim look af the prisoner. * Ob! I fancy he has been well punished,” said Will. “Ihave nothing more against him. Tne bear settled my score.” “ And blamed near settled mine,” grumbl -d Pierce. “ That's all very well,” replied Joe. ‘* But there’s a law of the woods as well as of the city. When yer murderin’ devils come out yereto play the’r pranks, we wood folks like to hev a finger in the pie.” “ Good for you,’ rejoined Piere». ‘ Give the hound a tiste of backwoods law. Will is too tender- hearted ”” “No lynching,” said Will. “Oh, no! Only a little keepsake to remember us The others moved off, leaving Joe and Jerry alone with the prisoner. On sveing this he sprung forward, making a pite- ous appeal not to be left in their hands. “Stop thar!’ cried Joe, authoritatively. ‘We've got a trifle of bizness with you.” The four frieads walked on into the woods, pay- ing no heed to this appeal. An hour after they had reached the camp Joe and Jerry came in, bringing with them the hide of the bear, which they had skillfully removed from the slain animal. ‘‘ Where is your prisoner?’ asked Harry, curious- iy. “ Hobblod off, on one boot and one stockin’,” an- swered Jerry. Y = “ But what did you do with him?” | “Guy him the fulllaw of Moses. Forty less one. And with a prime hickory switch. I'll bet that b’ar’s hide that he wears plaster on his back fur a good ‘fortnight to come,” CHAPTER XIV. AN ASSAULT IN FORCE. Tar next day it rained. Camping out, however agreeable it may be in sunny weather, marvelously loses its attractions when dark clouds gather on the sky, chill wiods roar through the forest, and heavy rains pour down upon the sodden ground. The g-nial warmth of the Indian summer sunshine changed to a shivering chill; the bright-colored autumn Jeaves, which still adorned many of the trees, fell, like a flight of migrating birds before the wind, and a general chorus of discontent went up from our storm-stayed friends, who did not like con- finement. : It was particularly unpleasant to Pierce Brown- ing, who was now feeling the pain of the wounds which had troubled him little in yesterday’s excite- ment in tents, = “This is confoundedly uninteresting,” he grum- bled, as he rolled restlessly on his cot. ‘ Ridiculous- ly sharp finger and toe-nails that bear had. I won’t be myself again tor a month to come, Wish I was well in my own room at home, with a bottle of sherry and the morning paper, instead of in this wishy- washy, drippy, dreary bit of country. Hand mea cigar, Jack, and a light. A man must have some comfort.” While the invalid was striving to extract comfort from his cigar, Pete, squatted in the door of the tent, was indulging in similar lugubrious thoughts. ‘Jess like ’em,’? he muttered. ‘‘ Brung back my shoes an’ Shea but dey neber fotched one of dem eatties. “Sif tnar warn’t nothin’ in de world of no *count ‘cept shoes an’ jackets! An’ me tied up like a spring chicken; and floatin’ down de riber jess like a stray chip; an’ shootin’ de rapids; or de rapids shootin’ me—dunno which it were. Sure’s you lib, I felt ‘sif I’d_ been sbot outer a seventy-five- pounder. An’ now it’s got to rain; an’ I jess ’spec dem catties is done sp'iled; an’ I won’t git another bite; an’ I jess wish I were home.” Pete’s grumbling voice sunk to a lower tone, as a laugh behind him showed that his lamentations were exciting merriment in his audience. “ Diaff myself ef I see’d anythin’ to laff ’bout,”’ continued the boy. *‘ Yere we’s got ter chaw hard- tack all day, ’coz we can’t make no fire; and I ’clar to goodness dat I don’t hanker arter uo sich grub.” And the day passed gloomily enough to all, under the close walis of the tents, though they had more or Jess occupation in repairing damages, Joe Smith had taken away the bear-skin to have it cured and prepared for stuffing. Pierce declaring that he was going to keep the counterfeit present- ment of that black bear on a pedestal in his room, as a perpetual reminder to his friends that they had a Nimrod among them, “By Jupiter, [have earned it!’ he said. ‘‘ 1 won't forget that bear for one good month to come. Ugh! how my shoulder hurts. and what an infernally dis- mal day it is! It’s enough to givea saint the blue devils.” He lay back on his couch, puffing volumes of smoke from his cigar, as if there was nothing but smoke in the world worth living for. The next day dawned bright and clear, The sun shone warmly on the sodden soil. rapidly drying its surface, whils a thin mist filled the ambient air. The pleasure-seekers were early abroad, quite for- getting the dismal gloom of the previous day. Their ‘camping-ou' season was near its end, and they felt like making the most of the short period remaining. As soon as the grass had sufficiently dried Pierce seated bimself in a camp chair at the tent door, with a Eile to sustain his back, smoking and criti- cising the culinary labors of Jack Hasard in a style not very agreeable to that individual. Of the others some went fishing and some shoot- ing. , Will started out.on a tramp after woodcock, in company with Jerry Prime, that personage agree- ing to lead him to a famous regort of that desirable game bird, ena,
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ee Will Wildfire in the Woods. - 28 halite As for Pztc he went a fishing. ‘*Mought be some catties left thar,’’ he soliloquiz- ed. “Ef thar is I’s bound to haveamess. Don’t keer much fur pearch; dey’s sich a berry common kind o’ fish. Wouldn’t guv one good catty fur a barrel of ‘em.’ Only Pierce, Jack Hasard, and Harry Waters, re- mained at the camp, Jack swearing that he was so r seally sick of wet-weather grub, that he was bound to have a first-class dinner that day, if he ex- hausted the powers of the cook-book. : Harry stayed with him es a necessary aid-de- camp,and Pierce because he was in no pth 2 im. “W here’s that confounded young rascal, Pete?” growled Jack, as he found his firewood running short. ‘“‘I hope the charcoal-visaged youth isn’t out on another boating-club expedifion, There’s one thing sure, he is a genius for being out of the way when wanted.” “Yere’s Pete; an’ I's cotched jess the nicest mess a you eber see’d. Look dar; and den don’t alk. The boy held up proudly a s‘ring of large cat-fish, while his ebony face beamed with satisfaction. ““Dar’s no use talkin’,”’ he declared, “ buta catty’s jess de best fish goin’. An’ when Pete drops his ook fur ’em, dey know dey mought as weil take holt. Dar ain’t no gettin’ away.”’ “Let us have them, Pete,” said Jack. ‘Fried cat-fish are not bad provender, that’s a fact.”’ “ The’r serougers,” declared Pete, as he brought forward his string of fish. ‘ Neber see’d sich beau- os Who do you t’ink’s dat comin’ down de hill yander? He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “ How’s that, Pete?” asked Harry. “A kerridge; sure’s you lib. I cotebed sight of *t los up dar, *bove de woods. Comin’ down yere, sualb, a “T hope it is not lady company,” remarked Jack. aly Geis got what I call prime accommodations ies. “‘Let them come; we'll set them to cooking,” an- swered Pierce. ‘Of all the animals out of a place in t :e world, a man turned cook is the worst.”’ ‘Growl on. You're privileged,” retorted Jack, slicing away at his venison steaks, ‘ Harry meanwhile, with the aid of Pete, set him- self diligently to work in cleaning up the camp, in preparation for a possible inroad of jadies. ““] don’t see where in the world they could come from, or who they could be,” he said, “ but if they are traveling here I don’t want to have them making fame of our housekeeping. There’s nothing under the sun can beat a woman, in secing a hole through a ladder, or a speck in a pigeon’s eye. Stir up there, Pete! It's ‘cl’arin’-up’ time.” He soon had matters in a somewhat more ies sentable condition, though it is very probable that an accomplished housekeeper might have suggested some improvements. 5 3 “Let them come, now,” he remarked with a sigh of relief. ‘We're spick and span clean. In a few minutes afterward the sound of wheels was heard, and it was not long before a carriage rolled into view, coming carefully down the rude mountain road. This road, in fact, was little more than a narrow cart-track through the woods, and it was. very doubtful if it had ever been invaded before by any vehicle worthy of the name of car- riage, Yet this was a stylish barouche, drawn by four spirited horses, and revealing, even at a dis- tance, oe bright and smiling faces of a bevy of young ies. It stopped opposite the camp, Harry Waters run- ning briskly forward, while Pierce contented him- Self with slewing his chair around in that direction, and Jack stood, with sleeves rolled up and ladle in pand, looking toward the new-comers with a grim wn. “If it’s dimer they want,” he growled, “I'm feard somebody's going to have short rations.” th With a rich chorus ¢f Inuzhter the ladies duscend- oe from the carriage, accepting Harry's proffered aid. “Miss Moreland!” he exclaimed, ‘ Miss Darling! This is too good of you. Let me help you, ladies,” holding out his hand to two others, whose names were unknown to him. ‘‘ Why, our camp will belike a nest of sunbeams! What ever put it into your heads?” A chorus of laughing responses followed his words, ‘“We were bound to take you by surprise.” ‘ We wanted to see in what heathen way you were living here.” “It is only a delegation of the archery club come to pay youa visit.” “Have ridden over from Pottsville, through the mountains.” Grim ol * Jack! of bright dresses in that direction. ‘‘ Cooking! Well, Vil declare! Oh, do come and look here! Do come and jiook, Oh, what a sight for a house- keeper!”? “Now make tracks, if you con't want to be scald- ed!” grumbled Jack. ‘This spson of mine gets a mighty awkward twist sometimes.” “ Because it is in amighty awkward hand ” laugh- ed Miss Darling. *‘ Let me have it.” An: ere he could hinder, she had reft it from his grasp, and was diligently stirring up the contents of his great iron pot. **7 don’t know all that’s in here,” she cried. ‘Let me see. Potatoes, beef, barley—a regular combina- tion, And mutton-chops and catfish in the same pan. Oh, did you ever?” “Give me that spcon. or you'll be soup from head to foot!” growled Jack. ‘*Mutton-chops, indeed! It’s as pretty a venisun cutlet as was ever sliced. And as for the catfish, don’t vou see it’s a double- barreled pan? They can’t run together,” ‘Lay it onto him, ladies,”’ laughed Pierce. shoulders are broad. but his sins are a legion.” “I do not see that your virtue goes very deep.” said Clara, with a touch of sarcasm. ‘‘To not even leave your chair to receive your lady friends!” * You must excuse me, l am troubled with corns,” replied Pierce. with a grimace, as a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. *He’s jess a-foolin’ you, Missy Clara. It’s con- sid’able wuss nor dat,” cried Pete, indignantly. “What, Pete? You here? And I did not see you before!” exclaimed Clara. “But what is it, then?” o “Nothing. Hold your tongue, boy!” commanded Pierce. “ He’s jess been chawed up by a b’ar,” persisted Pete. “Jess half eat up alive. Oh, lawsee, Missy Clara; it’s jiss monstrous de way he was chawed. Wants to make out it’s corns! °“Tain’t no corns, no- et and Pete's voice had a ring of deep indigna- ion, “Bitten by a bear!” the cries of sympathy rose al- Most into screams. They huddled around Pierce with warm earnest questions and tender expressions of feeling and interest, and we must admit a degree of curiosity, until he felt that he was being half smothered by the warmth of their sympathy, “Oh! it’s nothing, ladies,” he exclaimed, despair- ingly. ‘‘ Just don’t press so close, I pray you. Pcte’s a little humbug. Got scratched a bit. that’s all.” But they were bound not to be satisfied so readily as that. They plied him and Harry and Jack with a multitude of questions, and would not be satisfied until they had beard the whole story of the bear:
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26 hunt, and knew precisely the part that Pierce had borne in it, ** Of course we did not see it all,’’ said Harry. “* When we came up Pierce and the bear were hay- ing a free fight. They were hugging each other like two wrestlers or two lovers, which ever you prefer, And between us ail, [hardly know which was get- ting the worst of it, Pierce or the bear. However, we settled the animal by a bullet through its head. But ali we got for our pains from this champion bear-fighter. was a scolding that we did not let him have it out.” If the nonchalant giant had never been a hero in his life before, he was decidedly one then, and for the next half hour was overwhelmed with praises, congratulations, and pity for his wounds from his fair assailers. “But when are you going to have dinner?” asked Miss Darling “There is nothing like a mountain ride for the appetite, you know, and we are ’most famished.” “TI didn’t provide for such an addition to the camp,” replied Jack. ‘‘ You will have to take short rations.” “T don’t -fear that, with your immense potful. Besides, we can provide you with dessert, e did not come empty-handed.” With the assistance of Pete she soon extracted certain jars and packages from the carriage, whose contents were speedily displayed upon the table, which the other ladies were diligently setting. “Preserves! jellies! fruits! Gracious me! won't our friends be pt alate when they come in!” ex- claimed Harry, as the contents of the packages suc- cessively appeared. That they would be surprised was a mild term for it. When, a half-hour afterward, Will emerged from the forest with a half-dozen of woodcock, and Ben Huntly and Phil Carson with a bag full of quail they were astonished at first by the musical laugh- ter that came to them through the trees. But they were overwhelmed on catching sight of the wood- land table, surrounded by a laughing bevy of gay beauties. And they were utterly astounded on see- ing who their fair visitors were, and by the Babel of congratulations with which they were met. “Tt’s a special occasion,” cried Will. ‘* Venison and catfish don't half express it. Here's quail! here’s woodcock! Put them on the spit! We must greet our visitors with all the honors.”’ CHAPTER XV. WILL WILDFIRE’S TARGET. Meranwaitx the driver of the barouche had drawn his carriage into a clear place amid the trees, unhar- nessd the horses, ani tethered them where they could get a feast of the rich grass, which grew so luxuriantly in the vicinity. ““We must be back so as to reath Coalville by night,’”’ explained Clara, “forit is very plain that your hotel has all its rooms occupied. But we want you to amuse us this afternoon. That is what we came here for, and we are not going away un- satisfied.” “Just tellus all that you have been doing, and what pe you’ve had, and—and—all of that,” ex- claimed Miss Darling enthusiastically. ‘* Of course you've had adventures. There’s too many of you, and too great reprobates, not to have a host of queer things to tell us.” “Can we have the privilege of drawing on our im zinations?” asked Pierce. “No, sir! The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” Pierce hada deeply interested audience around his chair, as he described the sport and _ earnest of their camping-out life. The danger Will had gone through changed, for a while, the current of their sympathies, and he was overwhelmed with con- gratulations on his escape. The next victim of Will Wildfire in the Woods. ere Ne ae on ee] sympathy was Pete, when the story of his hoating expedition came out And the story ended with the merriment that greeted Mark Preston’s adven- ture with the bear, and the thrilling interest attend- ing Pierce Browninz’s great bear-lhugeing match. “Oh, dear me! what and what you bave sone through with!” exclaimed Miss Darling, her bine eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. d what a charmin~ life it must be, out here under the trees and in the sunlight, and with plenty to eat, and nothing to do but to have adventures, 1 move that we ladies start a camp too, somewhere in this wild region.” “But we have no guns to shoot partridges and deer; and I don’t believe one of us would be of any use in a bear fight,” said one of the other ladies, with a look of admiration at Pierce. ‘We have our bows and arrows,” returned Clara, “That is all that Robin Hood and his gallant men had, to live by. And. by the way. we have brought them with us, We thought that we could have some archery practice out here in the wild woods,” She ran quickly to the carriage. and returned laden witb an armful of bows and arrows “Yes,”’ exclaimed Miss Darling enthusiastically. “*T want to see Mr, Wildfire shoot, He escaped the last time, by shooting a m«n’s hat off in the thicket, But we will not let him off that easy.” “And Mr. Browning,’’ cried another lady. “‘He did not try to shoot, that day.” ‘*Now lL ery your pardon,” exclaimed Pierce, with affected dismay. ‘If you have a barn door, at ten paces, if is possible 1 could bitit. But I would not like to expose myself on anything smaller.” “Here is your target ” and Harry snatched up a broad-brimmed straw hat, the property of Jack Hasard. ‘‘ We will see what Will can do at hat- shooting to-day. The crown is the bull’s-eye, and the brim the outer circles, mind you, And whoever hits the nail carries away the honors.” He seized a hammer and nails. and ran out to a tree at some distance, followed by a roar from Jack, “Stop thief! Come back here with that hat, you rascally burglar. or I'll chop you into mince-meat and make an Irish stew of you! Do you suppose I have no other use for my Mackinaws but to make targets of them?” ©Oh! dry up! You've worn it six years now, to my certain knowledge,” retorted Harry, as he drove in the nail through the center of the crown. “It wants ventilatins.”” “Well, if this isn’t a high-handed proceeding!” exclaimed Jack. flourishing his ladle. “But go ahead, if I must be made the victim of my good na- ture. There’s this comfort—there’s not a soul of you can send an arrow within three feet of it at that distance.” “Don’t he too sure, misguided man,” returned Clara, quickly drawing the bow to which she had just fitted.an arrow. The feathered shaft whizzed through the air, so close to Jack’s ear that he mate a hasty leap back, In a minute more it had struck the rim of the bat, passing quite through, and making a wide rent an inch long. “Oh, my fated Mackinaw!’ groaned Jack, it was a chance shot. I believe yet that my safest plice would be with my head inside that hat,” “ Yes, if you can’t keep if out of the way here,” exclaimed Miss Darling, maliciously sending another arrow past Jack's other ear, but very wide of the target. “T assure you, young ladies, that you are laboring under a mistake,” he cried. hiding himself quickly behind a tree. “Tt ismy hat that is the tare+t—not mv head, I hope you will be kind enough to remem- ber that interesting fact.” “But, good heavens!” returned Pieree. ‘what is ” to be done? Your ears are so large that it is almost > impossible to miss them. You have your right ear covered; but I would advise you to hide your left “Bat
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2 ie a Will Wildfire in the Woods. 24 ear behind another tree. Iam going to shoot now, and I want a chance to see the target,” - “Go on,” exclaimed Jack. ‘Iam a victim, I al- Ways was a victim, and I suppose I always will bea Victim. Go on, if you think there is no hereafter.’ A general laugh followed, during wwich Fierce drew the bow, as well as he could in his sit ting posi- tion, and let fly an arrow. It struck a sapling about ten feet to the left of the target, and stood vibrating in the tender bark. “And they call that shooting!” groaned Jack, while Pete ran off to gather up the spent arrows. “But my hat’s safe, that’s some comfort. Lucky for me they made it a target. If it was hanging any- where else, within twenty feet of the center, they would be sure to hit it.”” ““Don’t cry before you are out of the brambles,” replied Ben Huntly, who had now taken up the bow. “Tt takes afew shots to get the range, you know. Pll bet you a new Mackinaw | hit it.” “Make it a beaver, and it isdone, Mackinaws are out of season.” “Done,” cried Ben, as he drew the bow-string with a strong and skillful hand. The arrow flew, striking the rim of the hat near its former wound, and with such force that the eSpiey was rent asunder, and hung dangling down- ward, “Oh, the deuce!”’ roared Jack. ‘And here I have to find this fellow in a new beaver as a payment for tearing my bat. That’s what comes of gambling.” His assumed distress was followed by aroar of laughter. Several well-aimed shots succeeded, to the sad detriment of the hat, whose brim was now hanging iu ribbons, while one arrow quivered in the outer edge of the crown, “Will Wildfire! Will Wildfire!” cried several voices. ‘“Itis histurn now. He is trying to avoid shooting.” “Why, I wasn’t educated on a target like that,” said will, in a quiet tone, as he ce pe forward. ‘We did a little archery work at college, I admit; but vot at old hats.” “Old hats. in eed!” cried Jack. ‘And I bought it new for this trip. It has hardly been christened.” i “ At what sort of a target, then?” asked Miss Dar- ing. “Oh! we used to split arrows on open knife-blades, and shoot the eyes out of potatoes, and that sort of thing,” replied Will, nonchalantly, as he tried the bow, and snapped the silken string. - “Yes, that sort of thmg, no doubt” rejoined Pierce, witn an incredulous smile. ‘You are a prime hand at that sort of thing. I hit the saplin; there to the right. It will be a miracle if you doa’ hit the one to the ieft.” Z “Wait. first, until I drive that nail further in,’’ re- sponded Will. _ He had lifted the bow, grasping it in most archer- like fashion. It was a tough piece of ash, yet Will bent it with apparent ease, his eyes glancing along the arrow, whose feathered shaft touched his ear. A moment's silence and expectancy followed the twang of the bow-string, and the whistling flight of he arrow, “T haven’t quite got the feel of that bow,” Will nd my arrow not two inches away from the ' quietly said, ‘I have a f; , though, that you wil ‘fn M ave ancy, Fed y nail.” His words were echoed by the clang of iron on iron. Their eyes opened wide as the keen point of the arrow rung upon the exposed head of the nail, and the shaft flew back upon the ground. «ey its chance! Pure chance!” «xclaimed Jack. You couldn't do it avain. for a thousand!” D n’t ask me'to rob you.” Jaughed ill. ‘“‘Such @ target. at such a distance! Why it would be sheer burglary! tan Wait till 1 find a target worthy my He walked off toward the woods as he spoke. car- : mae the bow, and the blunted arrow, which he | cked up as he passed, “*T will go with you. There needs some witness of a wonderful shot,” and Clara ran laughing after im. ‘*T had no idea you could shoot so,” she contiuned, after they had gone some distance into the forest. “Neither had I,” laughed Will. “It was two- thirds chance. But Iam not green hand enough to shoot again, and give them the opportunity to find that out. When one has gained a crop of glory he may as well bold on to it.” They walked on, through the interminable woods, all thought of archery passing from their minds as softer thougbts intruded, while their voices sunk, and their eyes glowed with warm feeling. A half-hour afterward found them seated on the fallen trunk of a forest monarch, around which the tr-es bad heaped their leafy burdens. while new ahorrert of colored leaves dropped steadily upon the earth. “How softly and silently they fall,” he thought- fully remarked. ‘They are like rich thoughts, or like words of love cnopree from heart to heart. Have you forgotten, Clara, that evening by your cheerful fireside?” “T shall never forget it,” she replied, warmly pressing his hand. “It did not need what I heard then from your lips, dear Will. Ialways knew you loved me.” | ‘*From that time you led me such a chase,” he in aida “From the evening of the mask- ed ball ” “Ah! Iam ahead of you then, for I more than half fell in love with you on the day of the boat- race when you so gallantly came in first at the goal.” *“T can see your face now, looking over the cliff,” he quickly responded. “And this soft hand that rio oe me the flowers. 1] have some of them yet, lara.” “Oh, you romantic rogue! How terribly faded ao must be! I hope your love will never be like them.” “Never. The Wildfire love is a hot fire. but it is a et one, dear Clara. Its flame does not easily go out. His arm slid quietly around her slender waist. She was drawn closely to his breast, while his lips were pressed on hers in a warm kiss, For a minute she lay thus, inexpressibly happy in his embrace. Then she looked upward, with a soft sigh, = eyes bent upon the distant depths of the ‘orest. Suddenly, with a hasty ejaculation of terror, she sprung to her feet and threw her arms impulsively around him, “ Ah, good Heaven!” she cried. “No, no! me first, if one must die!” “What is the matter?” exclaimed Will, in quick alarm, as he sought to rise, But their voices were drowned in a sharp report, that seemed to come from a bushy clump a few paces to the left. Clara fell upon Will’s breast, her arms convulsively clasping him. “Ah, my God! Iam shot!” she exclaimed. “Itis he! Mark—Mark Preston. Ah, Heaven be thanked; it is my life, not yours!” Arustling sound was audible in the thicket; Will’s nick eye caught a hasty glimpse of a retreating dire: With an en movement he caught up the bow and arrow that lay by his side, and despite the dear burden that a! — his breast, discharged almost a random shot in the direction of the fiying fugitive. A cry of pain followed the impulsive shot, Thén all was silence 5 With a sudden revulsion from revengeful thoughts Will's eyes fell upon the pallid face and closed eyes of rhe poor gir) in his arms, who had go bravely of- fered her life for his. “Speak to me, Clara!” he cried. ‘“ Say—say that you are not dead! Ah, I shall never forgive myself if this dastardly shot prove fatal!” “You are not to blame, dear Will,” whispered
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. Clara, striving to smile, though her lips were set wich pain. “I have always feared we both would dis by this man’s hand.” *¢1tis his last shot!’ cried Will, with blazing eyes. “Tt will have his blood in revenge! Oh, my God! ean she ba slain? Can she have died, and I standing idly by?” Clasping her impulsively in his arms, he ran with the speed of a deer toward the camp. Those who remained there, and who were still amusing themselves with archery, were suddenly aroused by his wild cries, in which pl:intive lamen- tation was mingled with bursts of tiger-like fierce- ness. % A dozsn quick words told what had happened, and spread terror and dismay through the lately happy camp. ** Quick, put in the horses!” he screamed. “You take the ecarriazs, Ben. Drive like mad for the nearest town. Have a doctor here within an hour, if you kil] all the horses. Pierce, you know some- thing of surgery. Ah! if she be slain! if she be slain!’ He surrendered her into the arms of the affrighted lalies, to whom only the short and stern commands of Pierce gave any power of action. “Tt is serious,” he announced, after a hasty ex- amination, “ but may not be fatal. The ball has gone in below the shoulder. But it seems to have entered at an angle. It may have reached no vital organ.”” “Thank God for that!’ exclaimed Will, fervently. “ Andnow, Jerry, Harry, Jack, revenge is the word! He cannot Lave gone far! The wet leaves will car his trail! Shall he azain escape?” * No!’ came in a general stern chorus, while every hand reachad for a rifle, or other deadly wea- pon. CHAPTER XVI. THE WORX OF AN ARROW. Jmrry Priue had his one eye fixed closely upon the ground, while the others stood by in breathless suspense. “Daylight isn’t plainer,” he muttered, as he cast his glance from right to left. ‘ Yere’s whar the murderin’ hound stood. And by the seven blessed candles, yer arrer went home!—see yander, Them aren’t nat’ral colored leaves. It was a man’s blood as made them red spots.” ‘©And here is the arrow itself,” exclaimed Jack, as he groped in the depth of the thicxet. “Its point covered with blood. It’s a pity if was blunted by the former shot. It might have stopped bis fun for good, only for that.”’ “Dug in an inch asit were,” replied Jerry, criti- cally examining the crimsonel point. ‘stuck fast too. He jerked it out and flung it ovr thar. Con ahead, boys, every minut’ counts, A cow could fol- ler this trail.” Will. who had stood wit lowering face and con- tracted brows, graspinz his rifls till it seemed as if his fingers would mect in the rigid iron, started at these words and eagerly prepared to follow their ex- perienced guide, ‘Keep back now, Nebby,” commanded the seont. ‘ Wearen’t axing any duty from your nose. Ye'd jest be as like, anyhow, to lead us arter a r.bbit as artera man. Keep back, I say. We'll call on you when we want you.” With his long stride the scout walked forwar1. as if he were following a street in the city instead of a m.1n’s footsteps throuch the depths of the forest. Yet any one there might have followed that trail at full speed. The hard rain of the previous day hid soaked the leaves, only their upper layer being dried by that day’s sun. In consequences, every step of the fugitive had left a deep impression upon the thick bed of fallen leaves, whose rain-soaked state had destroved their elasticity. tain, but turned on reaching its slope and ran along the edge of the declivity in the direction of a ylen | leading through the bills. “He run till he got here,” said Jerry, stopping beside a mountain ash, and again closely inspecting the ground. “ius be were bleedin’ more nor were comt’able, Yere’s whar he stopped to tie up his hurt. Don’t ye see how he’s tried to play it on us, kickin’ leaves over the blood drops? That arrer of yourn hit him sore, Mr. Wildfire, It’s a lame bird we're follerin’.” ‘“Would that it had reached his dastardly heart!’ and Will’s face grew dark with rage, ‘“ But why do we stop here? Why delay an instant in our pur- suit “ Softly, softly! came Jerry’s coolreply. ‘“ Slow and sure is the best traveler. Any p’int missed now mought fling us off the track in the end.” Jerry, after a minute’s further delay, started again — on the trail, followed closely by the dog, and less im- mediately by his three human followers. “Was he still running?” asked Harry, as he strove to read the indications of the footprints. “No,” answered Jerry. ‘He dropped to a fast walk. It’s a good stride yet, but the tracks are shorter and lighter.” The trail had now entered the valley, which led up between two swelling hills, whch searcely de- served to be honored with the name of mountain. The ax of the woodcutter had never entered this primeval forest, The sloping elevations were cover- ed to their summits with thick growing trees, while | in the valley, watered and fertilized by a gurgling streamlet, huge pines, oaks ana poplars lifted their sturdy forms heavenward, some of them being of immense girth, while a new growth of slender sap- lings filled the intervals between the monarchs of the forest. q Much of this space was clear of obstructions though an occasional thicket of brambles or clumps of uniergrowth made the way difficult. Here and there, too, reposed the half-decayed trunks of older trees, the relics of some past storm, closing the pas-— sage with the bushes which had clustered thickly around them. : “He were in some’at of a hurry.” announced ¥ “Straight through bushes and walked round thas dead trunk “Did he think he had distanced pursuit?” asked Harry. “Not he,’ returned Jerry. trouble. Wait a bit. curyus hereaway.”’ He walsed more slowly, his single but very sharp ey? intently rvading the indications of the trail, “Yes. yes,’ he announced, after some five min- utes of ft’ is quiet progress. *peeted. That arrer hit him heavy. We’ve got him — sure’s ever a cat gota mouse. Ye hit the nail ag’in, Mr, Wildfire, I'll sw’ar to that.” “What do you mean?” asked Will, eagerly press- ing forward. “ He’s rettin’? weaker every step. his legs, — From this p’int cn yve'll find that he trusts to his hrains. We won't foller the trail quite so lively, ye'll see that.’ “The shin is flinging her cargo overboard,” return The way led straight onward toward the moun- ! ed Jack, who had ben looking through the bushes, —
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& ews eae nowy Will Wildfire in the Woods. 29° Bee lightening weight for a sharp run, See ere!’ He held in his hand a rifle which he had just found in the thicket. Jerry examined it carefully. a “Light weight, but looks li e a good tool,” he said. “ That's the identercal rifle that the poor gal was shot with. The infernal catamount ain’t took ee ‘o load it ag’in. Yere’s the old cap on the nip- le ‘yit.”” E Will snatched the weapon from his hand, and look- ed at it for a minute with lowering face. He then | flung it fiercely to the ground, a revengeful expres- sion darkening his countenance. “Lead on!” he hoarsely commanded. ‘* Ah! that | Thad that villainin my hands, as I have just had his murderous weapon! I could tear him limb from limb!” Without a word of reply Jerry again took the trail his face reflecting scme of the revengeful fury which b: rned on Will’s ingenuous countenance. The scout now Ied in a sloping line toward the nar- | row stream, which flowed through the center of the valley. Without hesitation he crossed it and contin- ued his course on the other side. The character of the soil was changing. The rich loam of the lower valley became a hard, clayey soil, through which rocks here and there protruded while the huge trees below were here replaced by a feebler growth. A short distance further on a rocky stratum broke through. Broad shelves of a slaty rock were | interspersed with narrower reaches of soil, in which the few trees of this locality hai taken root. In this open space the sun had more thoroughly dried the | surface, so that the trail became less distinct. ** Now legs has guv up the game, and brains has | r | and we've got to hey sharp eyes on the side.” took their place,’ announced Jerry. ‘‘ Ther’s on’y one thing fur us. We've got to put our own brains to work.” His former rapid progress was succeeded by a slow, cautious, doubiful movement, his gaze fixed earnestly upon the earth. “The hound’s makin’ every use of the rocks,” he continued. ‘‘He’s stepped from one to t’other wherever he could, Keep yer eyes open, gentle- men. Ye mought catch the trail where it *seapes me. Thar’s no tellin’ what backin’ and fillin’ sueh a chap is up to. Not too eager. Softly, softly! Be keerful ’bout puttin’ yer own feet on thes‘ile. Yo mought make trouble.” in fact, the shelving rocks approached, in many places, near enough to step from one to the other, and the fugitive had evidently made skillful use of this opportunity. Jerry found, in several of the broader reaches of soil, traces of his feet. But the soil itself grew hard and dry as they advanced, and finally every vestige of the trail disappeared. The scout made a careful but vain search of the whole locality. Am, “I told yer we hadn't no fool to deal with,” he rumbled: “Mebbe, though, the dog’s nose mought e keener nor our eyes. Sick ’em, Nebby! Go fur em, honey! See what you kin make of it. ‘ The dog, at this appeal to his sagacity, sprung for- ward with a short bark, and began to run backward and forward with his nose to the ground. “Further out, lad! Beyantthe stones! See ef ye | can’t pick up a scent in the grass,” and Jerry fol- lowed the circling animal to the outer soil, which he _ Searched closely, while the dog ran in wideming cireles, fe The animal suddenly stopped with a whining | hy and looked questioningly up in his master’s a. ¥; “No, no, Nebby, ’tain’t rabbits,” said Jerry, with a shake of his head, though he stepped up to satisfy himself that the dog had not really found the trail. ag rabnis, Se game, Nebby. No sich small fry he dog, as if understanding him, continued 1 is | Yes 5 companions had done their utmost to aid | in this investigation, but without any satisfactory result. They now stood anxiously watching the movemen's of the dog. Jerry walked up to them, and re-t-d his weight upon his rifle, as he watched for another minute the dog’s fruitless,search. “Tt’s *bout as 1 thought ” he at length said, in a half soliloquy. “The rat’s took to the water. S'pected so from the fu’st, but didn’t keer to leave this spot till we worked it out.” A quick: tart passed through his hearers at these words. They turned and looked at the stream, which ran through the center of this rocky stra- tum. ** His steps led away from it,” continued Jerry. “ But that’s a stale trick. He could reach it from | here by the rocks, ’thout ’teching a morsel of s’ile. Runnin’ water leaves no trail; but be ean’t git out r the water ’cept by the land, and we’ve got to look now fur whar he left it.” : He walked to the border of the shallow stream, and looked intently upon the waters. * * Has he gone up or down?” asked Harry. “That's what I’m cogertatin’. Won't pays now to take the wrong track. I s’picion severely, though, | that he’s struck up.” “Why?” asked Jack, who could sce nothing in the water leading to such a conclusion. “Cause the water in’t as clear as it oughter be. It’s ginerally like glass, an’ now ye can scarce see the bottom. Ther’s somethin’ stirred the mud_up- s'ream, and not long ago nuther. Come here, Ncb- by. No use wastin’ your precious time yander.” He whistled for the dog, and started up the stream, followed by the others. * You folks had best take t’other side,” he ad- vised. ‘ He’s left the water ag’in some’eres up yere, The pursuit continued in ceep silence for nearly a half-mile, every eye intently watching the banks of the stream, while the dog ran eagerly to right and left with his nose fixed to the ground. At the point which they had now reached the wa- ter came through a narrow, rocky cliannel, and then sudd: nly widened and shallowed over a flat bed of clayey soil. Jerry paused and laid down his rifle, stooping over the waters. He shook bis head after a minute, “Too thiek,”’ he said. ‘“ 1’ll hey to makea cam,” The stiff clay of the bottom served him in this quandary. ‘Two or three handfuls pressed in the narrow rock channel stopped the flow of the stream, only some slight rilis trickling through. These he stopped with a fresh peor sea ef bis natural mor- tar, and then waited patiently until the flowing — should empty the shallow basin below the am. They had but a minute to wait. The stream quick- ly ran out, showing the bare bottom of the channel except where sundry depressions remained filled with water, A dry smile came on Jerry’s weather- beaten face as he pointed downward. “Don’t talk!” he remarked. “It’s as plain now as the nose on Nebby’s face. Dye see them water: logged holes? Them was made by a man’s boots, And it’s the man we are arter. I know the track to a hair.” It needed no keen eyes to recognize the shape of ahuman foot in the depressions in the stiff aot ye | made so recently ti at the water had yet hard worn away their sharp edges. “It’s gettin’ warm,” remarked Jerry, as he start- ed forward again. *‘’Tain’t half ports Bo since he passed yere, and ye’ll find he’ll soon leave the wa- ter. Use yer eyes sharp. A broken leaf mought sell the game on him now.’ ‘ihe stream now passed through a thick growth of bushes. Jerry forced a passage through the midst of these, bidding the others to pass around the out- side, wit a sharp look out for the trail. For perhaps a hundred yards this bushy growth continued, after which another stretch of stony soll / succeeded, ; 1
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. “Yere’s whar he left the water. As sure as ou’re living men,” cried ohann gs “And to the left. The stones streteh further in that direction. No use huntin’ through these stones, but we’ve got to inves- tergate the outer edges mighty sharp, you bet.” The stony locality was about an eighth of a mile in breadth, Jerry walked straight to its borders. preceded by the dog, whose eagerness of search saemed increased. After a few minutes the hound broke into a furi- ous barking, running back to his master and for- ward again to a point in the forest. But Jerry shook his head. He stood leaning upon his rifle, his eye fixed curiously on the ground. “The chase is up,” he announced to the others, who had ger tenber around him, ‘I fancied ther’ was more work afore us; but it’s allup. He’s le* go the Set and the ship’s all adrift. That arrer done the job.” They looked down without speaking at the point on which his eyes were fixed. There was indeed a most striking indication. For a broad patch of blood had crims ned the surface of a flat stone, while a slight pool of the crimson fluid, not yet hardened, fillei a depression in the st ne. “He couldn’t go no further,” said Jerry, ‘He stopped-here to rest, and the bandaze has slipped. It’s no trifling wound that’chap’s got. I'd wager my old hat that the life blood’s been touched.” He walked on, with his eyes to the grounc, the others following. “ Trailin’s easy when it gits to be a blood trail,” he quietly remarked. ‘ Look at the tell-tale drops, on stones and leaves. He hasn‘t had the strength to tie it up ag’in. Why he’s been staggerin’ like a drunken man!—Quiet thar! Quiet, Nebby! What ails you, boy?” The dog was barking and whining in a peculiar manner, beside some bushes not very far in ad- vance, They hurried forward to the spot, the bloody marks increasing in volume at every step. ‘*Whist! whist, Nebby !—Aha! the trail’s sartainly come toanend. You folks needn’t ha’ brung yer rifles, The murdered leddy’s revenged, and Mr. Wildfire’s arrer did it. Look thar!” They already had their eyes on the spectacle which had arrested him. There, half buried in the bushes, lay the form of Mark Preston, stone dead his sate face turned upward, while a pool of blood crimsoned the ground beneath his neck, which was marked by a gaping wound. CHAPTER XVII. FINALE. “Gone?” exclaimed Will, as he leaned heavily upon his rifle, near the ag of the tent. r “Yes,” answered Pierce, from his easy-chair. “The doctor—who seems to know his business, by the way, decided that she could not be peopenly at- tenjed to here. She is comfortably fixed in the car- riaze, and they were walking the horses back to Coalville.—Don't look so glum, Will. It was not with her own wish she went. I promise you that.” “But—but,” wavered Will, “the report? Is she safe? Is there any hope?” “She is not one to dis easily, my dear boy,” was the encouraging response. “It is a dangerous wound. I admit that. But she will pull through it, if [ am not sorely mistaken.” “ What does the doctor say?” Will asked. “That nothing vital is touched. The ball went deep, but it escaped the life organs; and he thinks he can extract it.” “Heaven grant that he may,” Will fervently re- sponded. He walked for a few minutes restlessly about the camp, and then with a gesture of impatient anx- iety, took the road toward Coalville. e could not pass the night without further tidings. The next morning the camp broke up, its mate- terials being transported in a country wagon to the same locality, f “ How’s it come out?” asked Jerry Prime, as he met Will and Pierce the succeeding day. ‘I hope to ’tarnal gracions that it ain’t goin’ to be no seryus hurt to the poor leddy.”” “The doctor has extracted the bell,” answered Will, ‘‘and she seems comfortable. We have every reason to hope.” “ Waal, that’s as good news as I've heerd fura fo’night. Ef that reprobate ’d killed her, I'd feel like givin’ his carcass to the dogs. It’s lucky you peppered him, anyhow, He'd ha’ gi’n you trouble slong as he stayed afoot.” “You are good on the chance shot,” remarked Pierce. ‘ You could never have made such a hit with a steady aim.” “T doubt if I could.” answered Will. ‘‘ What have you done with him, Jerry?” “We guv him Christian burial. In the old grave- yard down by the corners. Had the crowner u fu’st, though. He guv a verdick of justifiable homi- cide. E? ye don’t know what that means, I do, fur Taxed him. It means that the murderin’ hound got jist what be desarved, With a laugh at Jerry's definition of justifiable homicide, the two friends passed on toward the Coalville Hotel, anxious for the latest news from the chamber of the wounded girl. She was being most tenderly nursed, by her lady friends, and ao far everything looked favorable. “Tf no fever or inflammation sets in,” said the doctor. “ But if they do set in?’ queried Will, with an anx-~ ious look. “Our fight will be harder, that is all. bring her through, in any case. Will you please let me change the dressing on your wounds, Mr, Brown- ing? You must feel dreadfully uncomfortable.” ‘“* Why I don’t feel as sweet as if ’'d been dropped into a barrel of molasses,’ Pierce grimly replied, “nor as limber as a fresh cut hickory switch, But, anyhow, I've Got my bear. That's some comfort.” “And Mr. Wildfire brought down his game, 100,” laughed the doctor. “You are both good sports- men.” The hotel at Coalville was not very extensive, and the sudden irruption of cuests had brought a strong + pressure on its means of accommodation In a day or two, therefore. the remaining members of the parey set out for the city, leaving only Wiil.and : ides and the ladies in charge of their wounded riend. One other remained, it is true; Will's right-hand man, the ebony faced Pete. But he spent the ereat- er part of his time down at Jerry Prime’s cottage, having taken a strong fancy to that eccentric indi- vidual, and finding some elegant fishing in a neigh- boring brook. Three weeks slowly moved by in the mountain village, three desperately wearisome weeks. Atthe end of that time Pierce’s wounds were almost en- tirely healed, As for Clara, she had been attacked , by fever and inflammation, as the doctor feared. But both were now allayed, and her wound had so far progressed toward healing that a removal to the city was pronounced perfectly safe. Three more weeks passed by. They moved more rapidly, however, for the slow drag of village life had been replaced by the high pressure of a city ex- istence. . “‘There never was such a piece of white oak as ‘our humble friend,” remarked Pierce, on meeting Vill at the end of this period. ‘‘Sound from bark to core. There are some scars of bear’s claws on my shoulder, but not a pain or ache left from head to foot. And that bear! You must come around and see him. Just the neatest bit of stuffing ever got up. You'd swear he was on the tree limb y-t, with that same cynical grin with which he looked at Mark Preston that day. Pete called on me y-sterday. and I introduced him sudd nly to the bear I vow I thought that ‘culled person’ was going to be scared white, ‘’Fore de Lord,’ he said, ‘it’s jess alive I hope to
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. Needn’t be tryin’, Marse Pierce. to git dis nig near dat critter. Ain't a-gwine to be cbawed up inter fish bait jess yit. No use trllin’ me it’s stuffed. Look at de b’ar’s eyes! “hy, he mought as we.] say right out, ‘Come yere. Pete, an’ be cLawed!’—but I ain’t a-zwine, nohow ’,” = After a mu ual laugh at Pete’s fright at the bear, ierce asked: * But how about our lady friend? I haven't hada bulletin for three days now.” “She is on the high road to health,” answered Will. “Has been sitting up for a week. Come up and see her. Iam on my way there now.” éf “Wish T could,” replie? Pieres. “ But I’ve a trifle of bnsiness on hand. Will try and call on her to- morrow."* . An hour afterward found Will in the sitting-room of Clara Moreland’s residence. She was sufficiently Strong to he able to leave her room. and was now seated in an easy-chair, well propned up by cushions, and had a smile as warm +s 2 June sunbeam with which to greet her weleome visitor. “You do not know how well I feel,’ she exclaimed With animation, “‘Not quite as strong as I did on that day when we sat on the fallen tree together. Youwremember, Will?” “Yes, indeed,” he replied, drawing his chair closer. * Your arm around my waist. do you recollect?” Somchow Will’s arm found again the same com- for‘able resting-place ** AndJ—and—" her eyes looked softly into his for completi es nee. Will was wil of comprehension. His lips met hers in # warm kiss. ‘Her head Jay restfully upon his shoulder. “Tam so happy,” she murmured. ‘ive And yet you have had a hard struggle for your ife. “But my friends have been so kind and gentle. And you, dear Will, you have been so loving and attentive to my slightest wish. It is no hardship to be sick when it brings one only love and kindness. And 1 have another reason for happiness. It was a terrible death which our mutual foe met; but I could never have been happy while he lived, with your life in constant danger re Lis treachery.” ** And yours, too, I fear. I am glad it ha e it did. I would have shot him, if we had i be him alive that day. It is better his death came from a momentary impulse. I have nothing to re- ret,” Z For an -hour they sat thus, happy in each other’s love. “Tt is but two weeks to Christmas, Will.” she at leneth said. ‘*And only one month after Christ- mas, you know?’ a - “Our happy wedding-day will come,” he replied, pressing a new kiss upon her rosy lips. ‘ And there shall be nobody in tiie world as happy as we, my own dear love, But you must be entirely well by then.” “T shall be well by Christmas,” she respond- ed. “There is no medicine like happiness, no physician like joyful hope. The whole future is rosy before us, love. Our cup of life is brim‘full of happiness,”* But as to the future life of these two lovers we can - Say no more here. The curtain of life’s stage de- . S8cends before our eyes, and cuts off the next scene in the eventful drama of their stirring histories. We may lift it again in some succeeding narrative, but for the present must leave them in the happiness of love’s sweet hope, © merry Christmas season came to all our . friends: with a mission of enjoyment. Clara was “now quite able to ¢o ont, and one of their Christmas £xcursions was to the farm-house of Phineas Brown. More than Will and Clara ‘ook part in this excur- F oa for Merce Browning, Harry Waters, Ben Hunt- ly, ey. Darling. and some others of the previous _ Party joined inthe descent on the old farmer, the 3i wrinkles in whose face smoothed out at sight of his gay young friends. “You are welcome, all welcome,” he cried. “And I hope you have brought a violip. For I have lost all my dread of music since the night of our dance in the barn. We will havea happy Christmas dance to-night, if you wish, And you may demolish as much as you want of my wife’s mince-pies, and as much as you want of apples and cider. wish youto have no end of innocent amusement out of this hap- py Christmas day. And I shall never frown again, while I can smile, as long as I live,” And they did have enjoyment out of it. Laughter woke up every corner of the old house; dancing feet shook its rafters, and the ghosts of gloom which had rested for years under its roof, started in sud- den fright, and took wing from their old home, never toreturn. They could not abide within sound of music, laughter, and youtbful merriment. And on this scene the curtain of our story falls, just as Farmer Brown and his wife again take the floor in a stirring country dance. : THE END, BEADLE AND ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS Speakers. Each volume contains 100 large pages, printed from clear, open type, comprising the best collec- tion of Dialogues, Dramas and Recitations. The Dime Speakers embrace twenty-four volumes, VizZ.: . American Speaker. 15. National Speaker. . Patriotic Speaker. Eloquent Speaker. Comic Speaker. 18. Hail Columbia Speak- Elocutionist, er. . Serio-Comic Speaker, . Select Speaker. . Funny Speaker. Komikal Speaker. Youth’s Speaker. Humorous Speaker, Standard Speaker. 2 Stump Speaker. . Juvenile Speaker. 2, . Spread-EKagle Speaker | 23. Dialect Speaker. . Dime Debater. 2%, Recitations and Read~ 2. Wxhibition Speaker. | i 3. School Speaker, | 25. . Tudicrous Speaker. These books are replete with choice pieces for the School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes, etc. 75 to 100 Declamations and Recitations in each book. SO DO AIST oe PO ee 22. Jolly Speaker. ings. Burlesque Speaker. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages, em brace thirty-two books, viz.: Dialogues No, One. 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82 OCTAVO PAGES, PRICE, FIVE CENTS, POGK Ey LIBRARY PERE EHHGGHAADHH AAD HARDHDARDRHHHHHHHNDHBDEH YD BH 1 2 SENT RAW SCHNIAARS ak psd sk jk pst pet Deadwood Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler, Kans:s King. By Buifqio Bill, The Flying Yaniee. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham, The Double Daggers, By Edward L. Wheeler, The Two Detectives. By Albert W. Aiken, The Prairie Pilot. By Buffalo Bill, The Buffalo Demon. By Edward L, Wheeler. Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide, By O11 Coomes. Ned Wylde. the Boy Scout. By “Texas Jack” Butfalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol. “By &. Lb. Wheeler. Ralph Roy. the Boy Huceaneer, By C 1. Ingraham. Nick o’ the Night. By fT. C. Harbaugh. Yellowsto nek, By Joseph i, Vadver, Jr. Wild Evan, the Boy Claude Duval. By E, L.-Wheeler. Piamond Dirk. By Colonel Prentiss Tigraham. Keen-Knife, Prince of the Prairies, By Oll Coomes, Oregon Sol. By Capt. J. FC, Aduins Death-Face, the Detective. By E. lL. Wheeler, Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes, Roaring Ralph Rockwood By I, St. George. 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Fee orn GU, BY Edward Le Wheeler. The Shadow Ship. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, phe Red Brotherhood. By W. J, Humilten. Pandy Jack. By T. C. Harbangh. Hurricane Bill, By Joseph E. Badger, Ir. Single Hand, By W. J. Hamilton. Patent-lenther Joe. By Philip S. Warne, The Border Robin Mood, By Buthulo Bill, Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter. By Ed... Wheeler, Old Zip’s Gabin. 3y Capt. J. Adams. Pelaware Dick. By Oll Coonies. Mad Tom Western. By W. J. Hamilton, Deadwood Dick on Deck, By i. L. Wheeler, Wawkeye Marry. Vy Oll Coomes. The Bor Duellat. By Col. Prentids Ingraham. Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer, By Albort W. Aiken. Corduroy Charlie, By Edward L.Wheeler. Will Somers, the Boy Detoctive. By Chas. Morris, Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. BywA. W. Aiken. Rosebud Rob. By Edward. Wheeler: Lightning Joe. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. Kit Marefoot. By T. OC. Marbaugh. joy Ranger. EF 1] Coomes. Yay, the Girl Miner. By Net L. Wheeler. Detective Dick. By Charles Movs. Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman. By Oil Coomes, Sharp Sam. By J. Alexander Patte the Lion of the Sen, By Albert, W. Atken, Photograph Phil, the Boy Slenth. By E. L.Whievler. Picayune Pete. By Charles Morr s. Island Jims or. The Pet of the amily. By Brace- bridge Hemyng ack Harkaway), Watch-Bye, the Shadow, By Edward L, Wheeler, Dick Dead Eye. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Deadwood Dick’« Device. by Ed. L. Wheeler. The Black Mustanger. By Capt. Mayne Reid. SO Old Frosty, the Guide, By T.C. Harbaugh. SL ‘The Sen Viper. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 82 Seth Jones, By Edward 8. Ellis. 88 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief. By Wheoler. 84 The Dumb Page. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. ek pk pe pe ek ok ek kkk ek a ek 85 The Boy Miners, By Bdward S. Ellis. 86 Jack Harkaway In New York, By Brace- bridge Hemyng. 8? The Mussar Captain. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm, 88 Deadwood Dick in Leadville, By E. L.Wheeler. $9 Bill Biddon, Trapper. By Edward 8. Lilis. 90 Tippy, the Texan, By George Gleason, 91 Mustang Sam. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 92 The Ocean Bloodhound. By Samuel W. Pearce. 98 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. By Charles Morris, —— 94 Dendwood Dick as Detective. By E.L.Whesler. 95 Buck Buckram, By Ca ptain J. I. C. Adama, 96 GI «Edged Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler. 97 The Black Steed of the Prairies, J. 1, Bowen, 98 The Sea Serpent. By Juan Lewis, 99 Bonanza Bill, the Man Tracker, By E. L. Wheeler. ‘iis, | 100 Nat Todd. By Edward 8. Elli 101 Daring Davy. ne Harry St. George. The Yello hick. By Capt. Maye Rel Chip, the Girl Sport. By Edward L, Wh The Black Schooner. By Roger Sta Handsome Harry. By Cha Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos Jack Moyle’s Lead. I oy Mountain Kit. By T.C. Harbaugh, The Branded Hand, By Frank Dumont. ~ i The Drend Rider, By George W. Browne. ~ Boas Bob, the King of Bootblacks. By i. L.W hee eIpleas Ikunds By Capt. Mayne Reids ¢ Saul, the Silent Mun By OW Coomes. Ph ‘aul, the Mount in Bey. P Deadwood Dick’s Pouble, 1 bez Coffin, Siipper. By C Faney Frank, of Cal rado, Will Wildfire, the Thorongh bre Blonde Ball. | By Edward Gopher Gid, the oy Trapp Harry Armstrong. By Bricebridge Hanyu, The iunted Hunter, | urd 8, Elvis. Solid Sam, the Boy Roal-A EL Wheeler. © Judge Lynch, dr. By 'l, C. Harbaujhes The Land Pirates, By Cpt. Mayn Reid. Blue Bla By Frank Dumont. e Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler. By Cliarles Morris. By Ol Coomes. By T, C. Harbaugh. ward L. Wheeler, J. E. Badger, Tr. rank Dumont. hob The Black Giant. Captain Arizona. By P New York Nell. By Edward L. Whevlor, Little Vexna,the Young Mustanger, By O11 Coomen. Deadly Dash, By Jos, E. Badger, Jr, Little Grit, the Wild Rider, By Col, Tugriham, The Tiger of Taos. By Geo. Waldo Browne. The Cattie Kin By Frank Dumont. Nobby Nick of Nevada. By E, L, Wheele Thunderbolt Tom. By TMirry St. Geerge, Rob Rockett, the Bank Runner “hy «. Mor The Mad Miner, By G. Waldy Browne. \ The Sea Trailer. By Col. Pre ties Jugrabam, Dandy Darke. By William R, Byster. Wild Frank. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Boy Trailers. By Jos. E. Baler, Jr, & Gold PI é, By Col, Prentiss Inpralin. 6 WILL Wildfire In the Woods. By C. Morris, Ready Jan. 5, bb? Ned Temple. By T. C. Harbaugh. Ready Jan, 12. 5S Dendwood Dick’s Doom. By Ed. L, Wheeler. Ready Jan. 19. - Tneued Every Wednenday. - Bendle’s Pocket Library fs for aale by all News- deulers, five cents per copy, or sent by snail on receipt of pix cents each. . BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. i+ Spa PEE ee g =Scnnravesct=— AMM Se Bue