Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 292) (1889 08 14)
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No, 292, N oe fice at New York, N, Y., as Second Class Mall Matter. August 14, 1889, $2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, Price. Vol XXIII ‘ ‘ > a Year, No. 98 WILLIAM St., New York, Five Cents. _— yA HN) Mh) Ni HN 2 Ta WP iG = SES a *M¥ Gop! It’s JOH MOREY, THE NIGHT-HAWK!” GASPED EDWARD,
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2 Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. de Morey, the Night-Hawk ; THE BLACK RIDER. BY JOS. E, BADGER, JR., AUTHOR OF ‘‘ THE BOY PARDS,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. NOCTURNAL EVENTS. “Jon Morey!” “Here, cap’n!” ; “You arranged this job, I believe; how does the serge lay?” “T hed thet honor, and if you'll lis’en, I can show you plainer’n the nose on old ‘ Leather- head’s’ face yander, and more’n that couldn’t be said,” returned the man called Joe Morey, press- ing his horse forward through the crowd to the side of the first speaker. It was a strange, suspicious-looking gathering. grouped there in the little glade beneath the full rays of the moon, Perhaps a dozen in all, they were mounted generally upon fine beasts, and as they moved to and fro, the light glanced from many a weapon at their waists. ? Not one but carried an extra bridle, or per- chance a halter, and suspended around their necks were thick black masks, or rather boods that, when donned, would effectually conceal both face and hair. ‘Never mind your comments,” returned the clear, mellow tones of the captain, now tinged with impatience, ‘‘but come to the point at once. ¢ have no time to spare,” ** Jest so. I'll be as short as pie-crust. Well, then, we're here ‘bout midway between three houses that I’ve spotted where we can make a raise, Mart Miller’s, where there’s three fine horses and a number one mule; Rauscbelbach’s, where thar’s three more, and Lansdown’s where they've five prime critters.” ; “Good! then we will pay them a visit. Morey, you, Woody and Teel will go with me to Lans- down’s, The rest of you can divide and visit Miller’s and the Dutchman’s, Make a clean sweep and then hurry to the first station, leave the horses, and get back home before dawn. Do you understand?” A "pies assent was given, “But remember, no bloodshed, and take good care not to be recognized. If there is any danger, wear your masks, Now go, and be cautious. Come, Morey, lead the way as quick as you can, and keep that long tongue of yours between your teeth.” Morey, the Night-Hawk, left the glade, enter- ing a faintly-defined trail, closely followed in a single file by his comrades, and soon after reached a fence of the description known as “snake,” or ‘ Virginia rail,” inclosing a field of young corn, along which they rode, advancing slowly and cautiously for some minutes. Then the guide drew rein and spoke in a whisper: f » yon is the house, and here, this side, is the stable. You mind my hoss an’ I'll go and reconnoiter,” “All right, but be cautious,” whispered the leader, as Morey scaled the fence. Some little time elapsed before he reappeared, and as the soft moonlight fell upon his features, it was evident he was vexed at something. ‘Well, what luck, man?” asked the leader, ‘The best critter of the lot is gone, Kd’s black mare is missing, although she was here at sundown. So there’s a good hundred lost,” the spy ejaculated, in a disgusted tone. “But the others—you said there were five, didn’t you?—are they worth the risk?” asked the captain. ‘There ain’t four better critters on ary one farm in the Territory; but this one, Ed’s Queen, aa Ny was the best. You must ’a’ seen er ‘**Perhaps I have; but we've no time to lose talking. ou lead the way, Morey, and Teel will mind the horses here. Let down a panel of the fence,” The panel was let down, and the two followed close in the lead of Morey across the lot, and in a few moments stood beside the stable-door, ‘* See, here we go!” and as he spoke he noise- lessly swung the stable-door open. “Takea good look now, for I must shet em up ag’in for fear somebody might notice it, Thar’s the horses and the bridles is a-hanging to the stalls,” “All right, Now shut the door, and secure your animals, quick!” With the short glance afforded by the moon’s rays streaming in at the door, the position of each horse had been noted; but there was one important circumstance that eluded them, as they were destined to realize very speedily. And this was the stalwart form of a man re- clining upon a pile of bay, with a gun resting idly against his shoulder, fast asleep. The leader of the horse-thieves quickly bridled and saddled his horse, and then leading it to the door, awaited for Morey, who had two to se- cure. Alex. Woody led forth his beast, and _still the man slept, “Come, come, man—burry!” impatiently muttered the leader. “Pmacom— Curse devil, he’s mashed my foot!” roared Joe, losing all command of bimself and raining a storm of blows upon the horse that had trodden upon his foot. ‘* Halloo there! what are you up to?” inter- rupted a full, sonorous voice, and as if it pos- sessed some potent spell, everything was stilled; then came four rapid, distinct clicks, as a double-barreled gun was full-cocked. ‘*‘ Who is there? Speak, or by the Eternal, I'll give you such a dose of buckshot that a sieve’ll be nowhere to your hide!” “ Be off, men!” cried the clear, ringing voice of the leader, as he urged his horse out of the open doorway. ‘‘Save the horses if possible, but yourselves at any cost!” “H—a—h!"” It was an exclamation from the watcher— almost a roar, it sounded so deep and deadly, as he sprung to bis feet, and with a couple of bounds gained the stable-door, The forms of the two fleeing horse-thieves were still near, and uite plainly revealed by the clear moonlight as they sped across the open lot to the spot. where the fence had been let down, | “
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. 3 With another muffled cry of rage, the farmer hastily leveled his shot-gun and drew the trig- er. But in the mean time, where was Joe orey, the unintentional cause of this commo- tion, and what was he doing? When he heard the first exclamation of the awakened farmer, his heart gave one great throb and then stood still. He thought no more of his injured foot, the horse, or indeed anything but as to how he was to effect an escape from his perilous situation. When he saw bis comrades flee and Lansdown leap to the entrance and raise his weapon, bis audacity returned, and he resolved to save their lives, Swiftly leaping forward, he ducked his head adroitly between the wide-spread legs of the farmer, and then with a strenuous effort lifted him clear from his feet and hurled him head- foremost to the ground, It was accomplished not one second too soon, for the triggers were pulled at the same moment, but the Seation missiles whistled harmlessly over the heads of the fugitives to spend their force npon the neighboring tree-tops. Joe did not pause to receive the congratula- tions of Lansdown upon his adroit trick, but with a wild peal of merriment sped like a grey- hound over the intervening space, and when the confused and irate farmer arose be could only hear the quick, rapid beat of hoofs as the marau- ders fled with their booty. The settler soon ig ay his gun and brought forth the horse that Morey had already saddled and bridled, turning the other one loose in the field. Lights were now seen in the house and the door opened, ene two partially-dressed women gazing out toward the stable. —__—_ CHAPTER II. PURSUIT OF JOR. “ Warner, what’s the matter? are you hurt? one voice called to the settler, anxiously. ‘*No; but, curse the luck, two of the horses are gone!” he growled, as he sprung into the saddle and urged the snorting horse over the in- tervening picket-fence and up to the door. “Mother, you and Alice stay inside and keep tke door barred until I come back.” ‘““ Why, father,” answered the elder woman, in anxious alarm, “‘ where are you goin’?” “ After those cursed horse-thieves, of course! Hand me out the powder and bullets— quick!” “Not alone? Father, you mustn’t go—they’ll kill you, I know they will! Wait until day, and then get some of the neighbors to help,” “Yes, and then it ‘ll be as it always has be- fore—the horses gone, the deuce only knows where. Alice, girl, don’t be forever!” cried the settler, impatiently. ; “Here they are, uncle,” responded the girl, handing both powder-horn and bullet-pouch to the man, who bastily began charging the gun. “ Alice beg him—father, you shall not go! wait until Edward comes back,” implored the wife, clasping her busband’s knees. “Let loose, now, I can’t stop,” and with gentle force the settler unclasped his wife’s hands; then, with a hoarse cry, drove his heels deep into the horse’s flanks, clearing the fence with a bound, and then vanished amid the shadows. “My God! he’s gone, and [ll never see bim again until they bring him home all bloody and dead, like they did poor Tom Harley!” groaned the wife, as she staggered back against the house, ‘No, no, don’t talk so, Aunt Molly,” said the other woman, half-leading, balf-dragging her into the bouse. ‘‘You know how brave and how strong uncle is; there’s nobody that'll dare to burt him.” “Oh, Jobn! Jobn!” murmured his wife, crouching down in the chair and wringing her hands in great distress. * Now, aunt,” added Alice, returning to the side of the elder woman, ‘‘ cheer up; look at me, I’m not afraid.” ; “Yes, I know; but heis not your husband; why should you care? I do believe you’d be just the same if they sbould bring him home—” ‘““Why, aunt—!” murmured Alice, her voice faltering and the large blue eyes filling, with tears, “There—there, pet, dou’t cry you know I didn’t mean it. But I don’t know what I am saying; my head aches so that I believe ll go crazy!” moaned the balf-distracted wife. ‘Don’t, aun’t, please don’t; talk so or Pil break down too, ee, Um going to start up the fire, and then we'll have a good strong cup cf tea, and wait up until be comes home. on’t he have a good, hearty laugh at your fears when I tell him in the morning. And so will you, too, then, when you see how foolish they were, A few words may not be amiss concerning the state of the country at the time of which we speak, and, in fact, is necessary to the proper understanding of the story we are about to tell. That we are not more explicit regarding local- ity, is due to the fact that many are yet livin who can remember many of the more promi- nent incidents, and identify several of the char- acters, under the vail of a change of names, We speak of Kansas—then a Territory—in the days when the title she bas since borne, of ‘Bleeding Kansas,” was nearly as appropriate and well earned as the ‘‘Dark and Bloody Ground ” of Kentucky. The entire country was flooded with counter- feit money, while horse-thefts were of nightly occurrence. But, until of late, the portion of the Territory we have to deal with had not been dis- turbed to any very great extent; now, however, amends were being made! There appeared to bea regularly organized band of the outlaws who bad chosen this section as their “ stamping-ground,” and whose work was carried on with systematic pevcinans as the settlers found to their cost, ho they were none appeared to know, but there was a kind of wild, vague rumor of a mysterious man to pie the command of the outlaws was attri- uted, Who or what this personage was, where he resided, his appearance or name, were shrouded in deep mystery Only’one thing was positively affirmed, and from that came the title by which he was known—The Black Rider, Upon his face he was said to wear a closely- fitting mask of some dark color, and there were those who testified to having met him in broad ei Pal Bhs a folk
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4 Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. daylight, riding a noble black horse dressed all in the same somber color, and with his features covered with the mask. More than once the settlers had congregated, and endeavored to form a league to oppose the outlaws, but so far the project had fallen through, owing to conflicting opinions among themselves, One of the main causes, however, was this: no one knew in whom to trust, or if his nearest friend was not one of the secret bund; and one traitor in their confidence would frustrate any attempt they might make, and render all their plans futile. CHAPTER IIL THE RIDERLESS STEED. In a short time Alice bad prepared a strong cup of tea, and the two women sat before the fire in dreary silence, waiting in painful sus- pense for the return of John Lansdown. Alice Walker, the youngest of the two, was not strictly a beauty, but there was something in her face, and shining out through her large blue eyes, that drew one toward her, almost in- sensibly, Very quiet and unobtrusive, she was the ove to whom the family, each and all, turned naturally when in sorrow or trouble, and so deftly did she administer hope and consolation, that often they knew not whence it came. In reality no relation, she had come to be regarded as one of the family, loved and treated as such. When they removed to Kansas, from Ohio, broken in fortune, yet undaunted it spirit and resolution, she had accompanied them, and bravely bore her share of the hardships and difficulties incidental upon settling in a new country- The hours rolled on and still the two women sat there, only moving to stir up the fire or re- plenish it with wood, until at length the longed- for day dawned. Then Alice arose, with an effort, and drew the curtains aside. ** Aunt Mary, you had better go lie down now, while I get breakfast. Uncle will be hungry asa wolf when he returns.” “No, no, I must stay up until he comes, whe- ther alive or-—” “Now don’t talk so, aunt, or you will excite yourself so that you'll be down with that dread- ful fever again. Hark! there he comes now, I hear his horse. Now you see how idle were your fears,” added Alice, joyfully, as she glided to the window. But the glad, eager look quickly faded from her face, and a wild, frightened stare came to her eyes, as she cottered back, pale and ghastly. **My God! Poor Edward—what bas hap- ned?” “ Alice, Alice, what is it? what’s the matter?” shrieked the mother, as she rushed to the win- dow, in alarm. What she saw there did not tend to quell her fears. A noble-looking black horse was running around the stable-yard, pawing to leap the fence. Its jetty coat was stained and clotted with flakes of foam and splashes of mud, while the steam curled from its heaving flanks in a misty cloud. “Oh, my heart! and Edward, too!” wailed the mother, as she strove to unbar the door with trembling hands that refused to obey her will. ‘Quick, quick, Alice, unfasten the door! He is dead —killed! I feel it in my heart!” —— the mother, as she staggered back into a chair. “ Wait here, aunt, until I go and see,” falter- ed Alice, with pale and trembling lips, as she threw open the door. “No, no, I must—give me your arm, girl; would you keep a mother from her son, when he is hurt?” ‘Come, then, quick—oh, quick!” gasped Alice, as she supported the feeble steps cf her aunt down to the gate, and from thence into the stable-yard. The snorting animal quickly came up in obedience to the call of the girl, and thrust her soft muzzle against the hand that had so often fed it with dainty morsels. But it received no answering caress, for the mother uttered a wild, piercing shriek of agony, and gasped: ** See! I knew he was dead—murdered! See! the blood—the blood!” Alice, too, saw the tell-tale stains, and her heart sickened within ber breast, as she thought of the young man they had all loved so dearly. With strength lent by despair, Alice managed to half-carry, half drag the senseless body of the mother to the house, and deposit it upon the bed. Then she set about restoring her to con- sciousness, moving as if in a maze, and yet with precision and correctness. The still prancing mare had followed them through the gate, and now approached the door, thrusting her dainty head through the aperture and uttering a low whicker that attracted Alice’s attention. As if unconsciously, she ap- proached the horse and paused beside it, gazing, as if spellbound, upon the saddle, Upon the left side could still be seen great splashes of a dull red hue, although they were blurred and half-obliterated, as though some- thing had been drawn hastily over them, ith a moan she turned again toward the still insensible woman, and paused abruptly, and bent her head in eager attention. Afar down the road she could distinguish the fast- approaching clatter of a horse’s hoofs, and then the rider dashed up to the gate, and dismount- ing, speedily fastened his panting horse, and en- tered the yard. Alice recognized bim for one of their neighbors, and rushed to méet him, “Oh, Mr, Curry, Edward is killed—” “No, Miss Alice, no he ain’t, not by a long shot,” cheerily replied the old man, as he warm- ly clasped herextended hands in his own brown toil-hardened palms, ‘‘ He’s worth a dozen dead men yit.” *‘ What—do—you—” began the girl, but her voice choked and faltered, and she could onl conclude the question by an eager, almost wild, aze, on Come, let’s go in and talk it over quietly, my little girl. He's alive, I tell you, and will along here presently, to tell you so himself, if you don’t believe me. So now cheer up, wi them pritty eyes 0’ yourn, and git some break- fast, for he’ll be hungry as a wolf; and I won’t be no way back’ards nyther, now I tell you,” drawing her toward the house, “Mr, Curry, you would not deceive us, he is
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. 5 well and alive?’ pleaded Alice, as though the news was too good to be credited, after the evi- dence to the contrary. “My gracious, what a girl you are, to be sure! I say yes! he is alive, and able to walk alone; although [ don’t know or rather I do know, that his nice new clothes is sp’ilea,” laughed the sturdy settler. As they neared the door, a pale, wan figure rose from the bed and tottered forward, ‘*My son—where is my son Edward? Have you brought me home his body?” “Wh Shless you, Mrs. Lansdown, what for should I dothat? Thelad is big enough and strong a plenty, to bring it home for himself. He is alive, and will be here in a few minntes, so you can— Look out, Alice, she’s going to faint!” and the farmer sprung forward and sup- ported the woman to a chair. But the swoon was of short duration, and then when Mrs, Lansdown revived, she was gradually convinced that her son was indeed alive, though wounded, “ You see,” said Farmer Curry, ‘I was up all last night watchin’ my horses, tor I didn’t know when those dratted thieves would pay me a visit, and was in a half-doze when f heerd a horse’s fut in theroad. I roused up an’ listened, peeking out through the winder of the harness- room, and I could see—for the moon, you know, was very bright—two men a-horseback, a-ridin’ in diff'rent d’rections, “They met jist in front o’ the house, and then both stopped, Oneo’ them hollered out somethin’, I couldn’t make out jist what, but 1 knowed by the voice it was Ed, Then the other one he up and blazed away twic’t with a pistol, an’ Ed he dropped like a log. “YT run out, quick es I could, but the rascal hed cut stick, and | jest had a glimp' o’ him as he turned the Neck. Well, I picked the lad up, and thought at first he was dead, but then he said somethin’ in a low tone that I didn’t catch, and fainted, “My old woman was up by this time, and with her help [ got Ed in the house and on the bed, when we found out thet he hed only been bit one’t, in the shoulder. It Icoked bad, it bled so much, but after all it was only askin cut, I left Nancy a-doin’ of it up, and went out to catch his mar’, for fear shotd run home and give you all a scare, but the critter hed already one, $ ‘““When [ told Ed, he begged me to saddle up and come on ahead to settle your fears, and tell some of the nsighbors to go help him home, I did so, and now you see, my little girl, that unless you hurry up with that breakfast, Ed °Il be here afore it’s ready,” concluded Curry, ris- ing to his feet and filling bis pipe. “You'll stay until he comes, won’t you?” asked Alice, as he stepped to the door. “Sart’inly. U’m too hungry with my ride to leave afore. But [ll go put the mar’ up and feed her, while | take a smoke. But whar’s the old man? Gone after Ed?” he asked, suddenly, In a few words Ethel told him what had oc- curred during the night, ‘Sho! well, now, that’s too bad; the best crit- ters in the neighborhood, too! Well, it’s no use talkin’, we’ve did too much o’ that a’ready, and , it?s jest about time to act. Them cussed sneaks 1 keep on ontil they won’t leave a hoss ora mule in the country!” growled the farmer, knit- ting bis brows and pufilng vindictively as he led the black mare to the stable, Alice bustled around in her old lively manner now that her worst fears were relieved, and once even broke out intoa snatch of a song, but a glance at the pale, careworn face of her aunt checked this; then she worked in silence. The table was quickly spread and the dishes placed, while the ham and eggs sputtered over the fire, the steam pouring from the spout of the great coffee-pot, and the *‘ johnny-cake” began to brown and crisp, CHAPTER IV. A VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. FARMER CURRY returned to the house and en- deavored to draw the elder «oma from her de- jection by his lively conversation, but receiving only monosyllabic answers, if any at all, he soon ceased and turned to Alice. ‘*Where hed Ed been, Alice, and what was he jw'nting around the country in the night time “T don’t know. A man brought bim a note last night as we were at supper, and he left soon after, without telling me where he was going.” ‘“* Tt wasn’t from the widder, was it? What’s- her-name—the one who bought the Grable place?” ‘* Mrs. Sherwood—lIsabella, I believe. No, what made you think that?” asked Alice, bend- ing over the skillet and flushing hotly, not alone from the glow of the fire, ** Oh, I was only jokiug. But she’s a mighty likely woman, anyhow, only a leetle too cold and snowy-like for my taste. Does Rd know her, @’y’ think?” “*T believe not, but he may. Has your wife called on her yet?” “Yes, onc’t, I think, but they don’t bitch well. Nancy says she is too grand a lady for her. For my part, I don’t see what she wants out here in the woods. It don’t seem the place for sech as her, who w’ars her silks, satins and di’ments like she does. And then, don’t you think, Nancy says she had raal chaney and sil- ver onto the table, though thar wasn’t anybody but. ber to eat afore my old’oman drapped in, Wife was so oneasy that she couldn’t eat a mite, though— _ But, hello, thar comes the men now, with Ed!” Sure enough, as they glanced out the door- way they could see a wagon slowly ry fer ing, and sitting upon the front seat was Edward Lansdown, whom they had so lately mourned as dead, looking, as Farmer Curry said, worth a score of dead men yet, although somewhat pale and weak from excessive loss of blood, owing to one of the minor arteries having been severed by the treacherous shot. Alice and Curry hastened out to meet them at the stile, but they were both outstripped by the half-frantiec mother, who reached the wagon as it paused, and then was clasped to the breast of the young settler, who sprung from the wagon without waiting for assistance,
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“Oh, Eddie—Eddie, we thought they had killed you!” sobbed his mother, hysterical A ‘Bot you see they haven’t, don’t you, mother?’ he returned, cheerily. ‘I'll live to make you lots more trouble, never fear. Alice, pet, you don’t look very frightened,” he added, as she drew near. ‘“‘Mebbe she don’t, now, but if you’d ’a’ seen her when I did, my boy, you’d think dif’rent. You're a lucky chap, Ed, if you don’t know it,” chimed in Curry, with a significant nod and wink, “Yes, this looks like i ; but say, I move we all adjourn tothe house; I for one, am awful hungry, and I feel—a little—that is—” kia ness gracious!” exclaimed the farmer, as he sprung forward and caught the reeling form of the young man, “he’s fainty, an’ here we be a-talkin’ like fools, not thinkin’ but what he was a sound man, instead o’ one who's lost a bushel.or more o’ blood. Lay hold, Dick Mawson, and let's git him to the house.” “Never mind, Curry,” whispered Edward, with a faint smile. ‘Vd rather walk, if you'll give me your arm. I don’t want to frighten mother.” As she beheld her son’s weakness, the alarm and timidity of Mrs. Lansdown vanished like magic, and she became as firm and collected as she had before been hysterical. “Here, Eddie, lean on me, Alice, ran and fix a quilt in the great chair, before the fire— hurry!” “Let Dick, mother; you’re hardly strong enough to support my great heavy carcass,’ remonstrated the wounded man, with a tender smile that told how deep and fervent was the love between mother and son, “No, they have done enough for you, it is my turn now, and I am strong--you could not guess how rien, oo am when you need it, Eddie. Now, lean heavier, and we'll be there in.a min- ute. “Pll have to blush for myself every time I see any of you folks, after showing myself out such a baby,” laughed Edward, faintly, as they entered the house and he sunk into the depths of the great rustic chair, now softly cushioned with comfortables taken from the bed. “Look here, little yirl,” exclaimed Farmer Curry in mock anger, as Alice knelt down at Edward’s feet and attempted to remove his wet and soiled boots, ‘git up from thar, right away, and don’t you dare ever let me see you cut up sech another caper as that, You never was tended for a bootjack,” **You won't let me do anything for him,” half-pouted Alice, but with a rosy flush as she resigned her position, Yes, I will, too, but not sech as this, Go fix him a good strong cup o’ ‘slops,’ or else coffee; the fire hain’t sp’ilt. These good folks is awful mangry I know, and so am I, too.” “T thought so! one word for them and two for yourself,” seoeped the girl. ‘‘Were you ever anything but bungry?” “ Look out, little one, or I’ll tell somebody how jealous you were when I hinted that a certain note might be from the han’some widder, Quit your my in’, Ed; we're talkin’ secrets now,” chuckled the grizzled old farmer. Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. In such strain Curry kept up the conversa- tion, but a close observer would bave noted that his gayety was too forced to be natural, and that his mind was far from being at ease, Every moment he would cast a keen, searching glance through the open doorway, or else. pause in me speech and appear to be listening in- teutly. Suddenly a gleam swept athwart his rugged and not unhandsome countenance, His ear had caught the quick trampling of horses’ hoofs, but did not wish the others to note it, lest, should it prove not to be the settler, their fears might be newly aroused by his continued absence, ‘* Hurry!” he shouted in delight as a party of horsemen spurred into sight, and foremost among them he recognized the farmer. ‘ There comes old John, now, all safe and sound! Didn’t I tell you so?” and then followed by all but Alice and the wounded man, he rushed down to the barn. ‘* Hellow, fellers, what’s up? Goin’ to camp- meetin’ that you've all turned out in this style?” “ Camp-meetin’? be durned!” growled one of the horsemen wearily dismounting and leaning against the fence, as if exhausted. It’d bea fun’ral ef Icould hev m ake ‘“ Why, Mark, old fellow, I thought you was down on your back, You don’t look fit to be out, now.” “No more I ain’t, nuther, but what’s a feller to do? Last night a passel o’ cussed sneaks cleaned out my stable, right afore my eyes, as *twere, jest as cool as a cowcumber, But [ heered ’em as I lay shakin’ like a dog swallerin’ bones, an’ le’ped to the door with my gun, an’ ef it bedn’t ’a’ bin fer the dratted ager, I'd ’a’ spotted one, anyhow, As’twere I missed bim an’ put a bullet plum’ center in my mule Jack’s —the best one in the whole country—head, thet throwed him like a Jog. It made meso mad thet I jest tuck a’ter ’em—five, thar was, too— *thout stoppin’ to dress, an’ chased ’em a mile in my shirt-tail *fore I found it out!” ** Yaw, py tam! dey vos been dook all mein dree bonies, doo!” grunted a tall, bony Dutch- man. “Then you didn’t catch them, Lansdown?” ‘* No,” shortly replied the settler, leading the way over the stile blocks; ‘‘ come in, men, and let’s have a snack as we talk it over and settle what we have to do.” ‘‘ Jobn, hold on a minute,” added Curry, placing a hand upon the farmer’s shoulder. ‘We've news for you, too, but it ain’t so bad as it might have been. Don’t git scart now, for he’s all right; only a little scratch like,” ‘“« What do you mean, Abe Curry?’ demanded Lansdown, sternly, but with a gray shade spon his bronzed features. ‘* Can’t you speak out like a man?” “Well, then, Ed met one o’ them devils and got hurt a little, but not much, Only a bullet through his shoulder. I thought best to tell you for fear the sight of him, all bloody, might give you a shock.” The settler did not answer, but strode swiftly into the house and stood beside his son, who ex- tended his well hand with a faint smile, ; “* It's only a scratch, father.” “ Who did it, Ed?” ‘* It was he whom men call the ‘ Black Rider,’
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or the devil, for aught I kaow, was the low, whispered reply. es Tell me how it occurred.” “Well, you know what I went for last night,” with a quick glance at Alice, and around the room. “I had got through the business, and thought best to return home at once, for I ex- nected mischief, and bad just got to Curry’s arm, when I met a_ horseman in the open, where the moon shone dowy in the road, almost as bright as day. “T saw at a glance that the horse was ‘ Wild Trishman,’ and halted the rider, thinking he was one of the neighbors who had borrowed him to go upon some errand. But I quickly saw m mistake, and crew my revolver, but before ¥ could use it the scoundrel sent a bullet through D3 shoulder, and Queen giving a jump, I fell off: and that, I believe, saved my life, for his second shot went through my hat as I fell. “T had a fair look at him, and saw that he was dressed all in black, and wore a sort of black mask, I knew it could not bea negro, for I saw his small white hand and a ring flashed upon it. Then I must have fainted, for the next I remember I was in Curry’s house. He brought word here that I was safe, and sent some of the neighbors to help me home.” “Well, if I hesitated before, this decides me,” ‘hoarsely exclaimed the farmer. ‘‘ We must put a stop to these fellows’ pranks, and there is only one way to do it.” “ And that is—” “To organize a Vigilance Committee, and hunt the devils out, at any cost! What do you say, neighbors: shall this gang ride over us rough-shod forever, without our lifting a finger to help ourselves?” A general cry was given and all spoke in favor of the league. All, we said, but there was one among the party whose face turned a shade ayer, and a nervous gleam lit his eye, even as e cast his vote in its favor. There was one traitor, at least, among them. CHAPTER V. A QUEEN OF HEARTS. Tr was late in the afternoon of the day suc- eéeding the eventful night upon which our story opens, that we ask our reader to accompany us into the interior of a good-sized frame dwelling, some two miles distant from the house of the Lansdowns, meme" Situated upon a little knoll, sloping in every direction, thus affording a good view of the sur- rounding country, it was shaded by a grove of venerable elm and oak trees. n through these, with its pale cream-color and dark-green blinds, it was a cozy and picturesque sight, ren- dered more so by the neatly-kept flower beds and evergreens, 9 Seated in a comfortably, even richly-furnished room upon the first floor, was the form of a lady, the mistress of the house, F his lady—Mrs, Isabella Sherwood, the widow whom honest Abe Curry had called “ mighty likely, only too cold and snowy-like ”"—was re- clining in’ the depths of an easy-chair, with a weary and careworn look upon her beautiful- Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. ly regular features, that seemed strangely out of place there, A bright flush suffused her cheek, and a gleam, strange and contradictory, came to her eyes asshe half arose and turned toward the door. Twice her lips parted to speak before sound issued, and only when the rap at the closed door was’ repeated, did she utter, in a voice that faltered, despite her efforts at calm- ness: **Come in.” The door gently swung open, and a dark- skinned woman entered, bearing a small tray covered with a snowy napkin. “Oh, Nettie, is it you?” with a long-drawn breath of relief, as she sunk back again, while the hot flush died out from her cheek. ‘I thought it was— But what have you there?” ‘Luncheon, please, missee. I tought you ring fo’ ’um,” obsequiously answered the maid, but as she passed bebind the mistress to place the tray upon the table, a dark, deadly gleam flashed from her large, lustrous eyes, and ren- dered the comely—a)most beautiful, but for the color—features fiendish in the vindictive hatred there expressed, “So I did, but I forgot. You may go now— Stay, Nettie,” she hastily added, as the quad- roon was about leaving the room. ‘Is there any news, or anything doing about the neigh- borhood?” “What way missee mean?’ murmured the waiting-maid, with a furtive glance toward Mrs, Sherwood. “Oh, anything! You know those dreadful horse-thieves—aren’t it?—have been so out- rageous of late, that I didn’t know but they'd been at work again,” wearily added the lady, “Oh, yes, did hear somet’ing. Dey steal um lot hosses las’ night, an’ shoot one man—berry good-lookin’, too—” “What do yousay, Nettie? Shota man? Who is it—do you know his name?” eagerly queried Isabella, turning around with a flushed cheek - and bright eye. “Yes, he name Mas’r Ed’ard Lausdown, young mas’r.” ‘* Was he killed—or hurt badly?” “T don’t know, but he ain’t dead, I guess, He wasn’t dis mornin’, anyhow. Jim he heerd it an’ tole me.” ‘“‘That will do, but send up James as you go, I wish to see him.” In a few moments an old negro man appeared and was motioned toa seat by his young mis- tress, ‘“« James, Nettie tells me there was a man burt last night; do you know anything about it?” she queried. “-Yes’m, I heerd so. *Pears like he was a’ter one ob dem hoss-t’ieves, an’ dey shot ’im plum’ frough de soljer. Mighty bad he is, too, dey sa y. “Do they know who did it? Strange that such things can be; wan don’t they hunt them out, I wonder?” added the lady, in a low tone, as if to herself. “ Dey say it was dat—de one dey call de Black Rider, who w’ars a nigger’s hide on his face all de time, an’ breaves fire an’ brimstone an’—” spluttered the darky, his eyes rolling wildly
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ee ee 8 Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. ae around the room, as if in quest of the fearful personage of whom such marvelous stories were told. “There, there, James,” smilled the lady, *t that will do. I fear you are drawing rather largely upon your imagination for your facts. But do you know this—person? what is his name?” P “Mas’r Lansdown? ’deed I jest does, missee, He's de finest, han’somest, bestermost gem’- plum in de whull place!” affirmed the darky, warmly. ‘Well, they must be poor, and need some- thing I can furnisk; so, James, have my horse —the gray—ready for use in ten minutes, and one for yourself. I’m going to call on them and see if there is anything | can do. Go, now, and make haste.” In less than the designated time Isabella emerged from the house, mounted the gray—a noble-looking animal—and followed by_ the groom, cantered briskly down the avenue lead- ing from the grounds, * James, which way now?” as they came to a fork in the grass-grown road, To de left, Missee ’Bella,” replied the negro, with the freedom of an old and trusted servant, calling her by the abbreviation of her given name. ‘To de left, an’ den’ ’trai’t ahead all de time.” “ Ah, is it at the farm-house where we stopped fora drink of water the other day? where. the pretty girl was, with golden hair?” **Zactly; dat’s de place.” “Who is she, James, do you know? his rr. roa ee wounded man’s, I mean?” added Isa- la. ‘Dunno, but guess not. She don’t look nuffin’ like none ob de fam'ly, ’cept herself. "Spect she’s some poor ’lation,” a little scornfully, as though he did not poeny admire one whose appearance was such a contrast to his loved ‘* Missee ’Bella.” ** Perhaps she’s his wife, then,” with a quick sidelong glance at the servant, ** Deed she isn’t den!” exclaimed Jim, earnest- ly. “Lord! he wouldn’t look at sich as her sich a fine buckra’ as he is!” “Why, you seem to bea strong admirer of him,” laughed the Jady, a little sharply. ‘‘ How did he gain such an influence over you?” * Don’ t know ’bout dat ’fluence, Missee Bella,” a little doubtfully, ‘but I do know dis much, dat he’s de on’y one dat I’ve see’d sence we fu’st come to dis yer’ outlandish kentry, dat I’d like to hab fo’ a mas’r.” “Come on, James,” replied the lady, a little more sharply; “‘ we must hurry, or we will be late in coming back,” and she loosened the reins, allowing the impatient gray to break into a steady, swift gallop, that soon brought them in view of the farm-house. Drawing reins at the stile-blocks, Isabella leaped lightly to the ground, without waitin for the clumsy movements of the groom, a cast him the reins, “You wait here and hold bim, James, I see there is the young lady now. I will not be i and mounting the steps beside the bars, holding the long, flowing dress gracefully in either hand, the lady advanced to meet Alice, who was timidly approaching, having been called to the door by the sound of horses’ feet. “Good-evening; if I mistake not, we have met before,” said Isabella, smiling frankly and extending her daintly-gloved hand, “‘and real- ly I could not bear to remain a stranger an longer; so, as you would not come to me, come to you, You know my name?—Mrs, Sherwood; or to you I should prefer to be Isa- bella,” “You are very kind,” blushed the other, somewhat awed at the sight of such glorious beauty. ‘‘I am Alice Walker, and my aunt, Mrs. Lansdown, is within. Won’t you come in? although I must apologize, I fear, for the looks of the house, for we are in great confusion to- day,” she hesitated, “Yes, I know you must be. I just heard of your brother’s—” “My cousin, you mean,” blushed Alice, as Taabella half-paused and looked at her. “Excuse me; your cousin’s mishap, and I thought I would call and ask if there was noth- ing f could do. Besides, I wished so much to make your acquaintance,” “You are very kind; but I believe there is nothing now, although they will feel very grate- ful to you-for your thoughtfulness. But, please parce me; here I am keeping ou out in the roiling sun all this time!’ moving toward the house, “But this—Mr. Lansdown, is he very much hurt? I have heard such terrible tales that I hardly know what to expect.” “No; it is comparatively trifling, I believe, and only dangerous from excessive loss of blood, He will be as well as ever in a week, the doctor says. “Oh! I'm so glad it’s no worse!” exclaimed ~ the widow earnestly, and Alice glanced toward her with a deeper feeling of interest, since she appeared glad to bear of Edward’s welfare. lice quietly introduced Mrs. Sherwood to the mother and son, and then glided about her household duties in her own gentle, unobtrusive way, stealing now and then a furtive glance at the bright, beautiful visitor. An unconscious sigh fluttered from Alice's lips as she noted the interested, almost eager gaze that Edward bent upon the sparkling beauty. His large, keen eyes were now sparkling and animated as they dwelt upon Isabella’s face, drinking in long draughts of her glorious beauty. Truly, there was some foundation for the thoughts that Alice had conceived; the two, Isa- bella and Edward, would, in good sooth, make a splendid couple. And as she thought this, the gentle girl softly breathed another sigh; then as if alarmed, her face flushed, and she dropped her eyes upon her work. , More than once Edward _ intercepted a quick searching glance from the lady’s dark eves, an experienced a strange, unaccountable sensation, that, however, he did not then attempt to ana- lyze. Then she turned and addressed him: ‘* T have heard of your serious loss, the more so now that they are so badly needed upon the farm, and when they can not be easily re- aap But I have several more horses than I ve any use for, at present, and it would exclaimed Alice, —
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‘ eT eee —————— B Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. 9 greatly oblige me if you will accept the loan of a span until your crops are laid over.” ‘You are very kind, Mrs. Sherwood; but—” began the young man, his cheek ee ‘Now please don’t refuse, for really, the kindness will all be upon your side. They have nothing to do, absolutely, and would be the better for a little work. I have James ride them every day, but they don’t get half enough exercise, and you know it would be like giving them away, to turn them loose in the pastures, the horse-thieves are so thick and audacious now.” “Well, for my part, I would be very glad; but father is very proud, and we are not able—” ‘Now, Mr. Lansdown, you are too bad! What's the use of being neighbors if we are not to be accommodating? Besides, I may have a favor to ask in return, and I should never dare mention it if Iam dine pooisiat in this. I know how you would miss Miss Alice here; but I am going to coax her away with me for a day cr two, if I can. I am so lonesome up there, all alone by oe tre in that big, dull house,” “Take Alice away? why, we would be lost without her!” exclaimed Edward, scarcely miss the house more. say to that, mother?” ° ‘I don’t know. It might do the child good to have a little recreation; she’s been tied so close to the house since I’ve been ill that she is rowing pale and thin, Don’t you think so, ‘ddie? But now I am stronger, she must go out more.” “There, Miss Alice, it rests with you,” cried Isabella, turning to the girl, “* Now surely you will not disappoint me?” ‘*T don’t know, Mrs. Sherwood. If I could be spared, I should be very happy. I used to visit the Grables often before you came, and I fairly love the old house,” warmly replied Alice, her (bee sparkling. “Then remember, ’tis a promise. And now pet scheme of mine, if you won't tell. I’m going to give a party, and invite the whole neighborhood, for 1 do so wish to become acquainted with some of my neigh- bors. Asan excuse, lam going to improvise a ‘quilting bee,’ for I know they will come sooner for that than if it was a mere party or dance; it won't look quite so much like play, you know,” and the clear, musical laugh again filled the room with its melody. 4 i “Look, mother,” laughed the invalid, ‘‘if Alice’s feet aren’t actually dancing at the very thought of it!” ; “ And so would yours be, were you not afraid of hurting your sore arm,” retorted Alice, * Then ee are both fond of dancing, Mr, Lansdown?” queried the widow. ‘Passionately. Alice, yonder, would dance her feet off, if allow and I would sooner dance than eat, any time.” “Ob, ['m so glad! but your arm!” “Tf you promise to tpone your party a week, I will promise to claim the first set—may Ir sagenly responded Edward, “ With pleasure—provided you wish it, then. But I shall expect to see you there with your “ ladye fair,’ and if so, poor I will stand but “We would What do you Vl let you into a little show. But, bless me! the sun is down; bad no idea ’twas so late.” “*Tf you would, Mrs. Sherwood, we should be greatly pleased to have you remain to supper,” said Mrs. Lansdown, ‘© Oh, no, I really could not, much as I should like it, I have several letters to write and must be going. But you will urge my offer upon Mr, Lansdown, please? Tell him it will be a favor to me, at least as much so as tohim.” “T will tell him.” “Then Dll send James over with a span in the morning early, and shall be dreadfully disap- pointed if you do not make use of them. We're neighbors, now, remember, and inust make each other useful, if we can. But good-day. I shall expect to see you all over my way soon, when you are more settled again.” “Thank yous we will be glad to come. And you, who have nothing to detain you, please don’t stand on ceremony, but come often, now the ice is fairly broken.” “You will regret it, I fear, if you give me carte blanche, for I may prove sadly trouble- some,” laughed Mrs, Sherwood, as she stepped out into the open air. ‘* And you, Mr, Ta S- down, please hurry and get well, for I am longing for that dance; it is so long since my last one.” “‘T shall dream of it to-night,” protested Ed, half laughing. With a few more words the visitor lightly tripped down to the stile-blocks, accompanied by Alice, while Mrs. Sherwood and Edward gazed after them, The admiration the young settler had been inspired with, was in nowise lessened when he noted her firm, graceful car- riage upon the prancing horse, as she waved them a last adieu, and thep galloped swiftly down the shadowed road. Alice was unusually a as she slowly re- turned to the house, and a subdued look of pain or care rested upon her face, while her heart beat with almost throbbing might; why, she did not attempt to reason, CHAPTER VI. THE FIRST BLOWS. Ir was nearly ten o’clock on a bright star- light night; the moon bad not yet risen, and the road that led past the fence of a certain farm was cast in deep shadow by the ovérbanging trees, Along this road a single horseman was roceeding, as if: in oer thought, with the ridle-reins hanging loosely in the small gloved and. But the black horse appeared to be well ac- quainted with his whereabouts, and as the cor- ner of the rail fence was reached it turned off into a bridle-path leading up in front of a Jong low farm-house. The bushes brushing the rider’s legs aroused him from his reverie and he glanced quickly around him with a start. Then with a short, soft laugh be urged bis horse up beneath a huge spreading tree close to the house, giving a low, peculiar whistle, The trunk was apparently hollow, for a voice sounded from the interior, uttering the words: “AN right, cap’n; most of ’em is in thar d Ss Vay well, You wait here until the others u
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i i 4 i 3S | : I 10 Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. rr ——————————————————————————————— come, and if you see any suspicious signs, give the signal. Do you understand?” “Yes, but why? do you think they ’spect anythin’?” “1 don’t know, but they are very busy and might chance along. I expect Drace with news to-night.” “ Then he has j’ined them?” “The Vigilantes ? yes. But now keep a good lookout,” and then the speaker led his horse through the bars and secured him in the rear of the stables, where were a dozen others tethered, There was no ray of light visible through the closed shutters of the house, but the man glided up to the door and ig gently upon it. After a short delay. and low whispering, the door was opened sufficiently to admit his per- son, then quickly closed and barred, “Where's your light, mother Moss; it’s so dark here that a person can feel it!” whispered the new-comer, impatiently. “Jem didn’t think it safe, cap’n. But gi’ me your hand and Ill take you safe enough. This way—mind the step down, an’ the top o’ the doorway. Thar—now wait a minnit tell I git the pesky door open.” The door at length yielded and a short flight of steps were revealed, leading down into a long low room, dimly lighted and filled with clouds of strong tobacco-smoke. Through this hazy, impure atmosphere could be distinguished the forms and features of nearly a dozen men of various ages and appearance, As the man addressed as captain stepped into the room after closing the door behind bim, he was greeted with a low murmur, and every man arose to his feet and doffed bis head-cover- ing in salutation. The person thus honored nodded slightly and then took the chair that seemed reserved for his own use, and keenly scrutinized each man, in turn, He was neatly dressed in a suit of black cloth, that fully revealed his rounded, handsome form, evincing considerable activity, if not of per- sonal strength. His hands and feet were small and well formed, while a brace of small silver- mounted revolvers peeped from his belt. But one peculiarity added still further to his remarkable appearance, and that was—a close- ly-fitting sable-hued mask covered his entire face, only allowing a view of the keen, glitter- ing eyes that roved restlessly around the room, It was the Masked Outlaw—the Black Rider— the mysterious head of the gang of horse-thieves, counterfeiters, and wanderers that had proved such a scourge of late to the country. Then he spoke, in a low, musical voice, that sounded strangely from beneath the sable dis- guise. ay Have any of you seen Stephen Drace, to- day?’ ay have, captain,” said a young man, aris- ing, “‘ and he said that he would be here with- out fail, by ten, to-night.” “ Tt is already half-past,” returned the chief, consulting a watch, that flashed with a thousand scintillations on the dim flickering light cast by the two rude tallow dips. ‘‘ But we will allow him a little In the mean time I will give you a few instructions. But first, Davenport, how about that Jast lot of horses?” “They were sent to the Third Station, an’ Jack Mosby takes them over into Missory to- night,” replied a dirty, stout-built scoundrel, vigorously scratching his tangled head, as if in search of the desired words—a habit of his, at all times, “Good! how many have you at the First!” “Only the four as was brung in last night, Tim is fixin’’em up now, with sbears, paint an’ sich like, an’ I'll defy the owner to tell’em this time to-morrow,” chuckled Davenport, again plying his digits, “Now for the rest, You all know how we were fooled at the Grable place by those patent locks? Well, this woman, Mrs. Sherwood, has lent old Lansdown a span of her best cattle in place of those we borrowed last week. So that makes five good ones he has in his stable now. “To-morrow night she gives a big party, and I have learned that the woman and Kd, if not the old man himself, will all be there, and of coursé will stay till late. We mustn’t lose this chance, if only to show the widow that she can’t expect to fool us always. I will have other business on hand, but I want three or four of you to go and borrow them, Do you under- stand?” A general murmur followed. For some minutes after this speech, silence reigned in the little room, Then a bustle was heard in the house, followed by the quick tramping of feet aud muffled tones, as of some person greatly excited, yet not forgetting their usual caution. “Quick—your masks, men!” sharply ordered the cbief. “I fear there is trouble brewing!” Instantly, as with one accord, each member of the league donned a thick, black mask, or hood, that entirely covered their heads and faces, and arose to their feet as the door quickly ripe and two men entered, followed by the old woman known as Mother Moss, The fore- most man was none other than he who had ex- hibited signs of agitation at Lansdown’s when the farmer avowed his intention of hunting down to the bitter end, the troublesome marau- ders, to whom be, Stephen Drace, in reality be- longed. “What means this, Drace?” sternly cried the chief, stepping forward. ‘‘ And you, Moss, why have you left your post without orders?” “The jig’s up, cap’n!” exclaimed Drace, ex- citedly, ‘an’ the sooner you all get out o’ here, the better, The Vigilantys is comin’ to ’rest Moss an’ s’arch the place!” “Do they know anything for certain, or is it only suspicion?” queried the Masked Outlaw. “Only guess-work, but they’re on the road an’ll be here in less’n a quarter!” spluttered the alarmed spy. ss “Half that time is enough,” calmly replied the leader. ‘‘ Davenport, you, Jack Story and Somers go out and halter Moss’s two horses and get the others ready for a quick start. Hurry, now.” Then turning to Drace, he added: ‘‘ Now tell me why you didn’t let Dick Mawson know this when you told him you'd be here to-night?” “T didn’t know nothin’ about it ontil to-night a’ter sundown; then they said they’s comin’ here. They’ve rested Joo Morey, Woody an’ Markle, a’ready, an’ is goin’ to gi’ them a taste
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>t Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. 11 ° Lynch law an’ then make ’em leave the coun- A deep-drawn breath and convulsive clinching of the leader’s hand were the only evidence that the chief was annoyed or alarmed at this news; then he said: ‘They are good men and have close tongues, But now, Moss, for you and your mother, We must take your horses and bind you to prevent the Vigilantes from treating you like the others, as you hear. Quick! come upallof you, and see that the door is concealed well. Out with the lights!” ‘Lordy, cap’n!” groaned the terrified settler, “let us go long with you, Them fellers’il hang us, for sure.” “No, they won’t, you coward; don’t you see? When they find you bound and robbed, they'll trust you more thanever, While, if you leave, you lose everything, aud wouldn’t dare ever to return,” hastily uttered the chief, as he assisted to bind the man, while others performed the same service for the old woman, who exhibited far more courage and good sense than did her son. “There! now when you hear them come up, you can halloo and scream as much as yon wish, the more the better, and don’t spare your lies. But as you value your life, don’t confess any- thing or allow them to discover the room be- low. “Tell them we've gone upthe road. New mind, if you betray one of us, the rest will hunt ‘ou to death without mercy!” and then the out- law chief glided from the building and joined his men, who were already mounted and impa- tient for the road. “They will come from the east, so we will go up the road to the fork and then scatter. Come on!” ordered the chief, touching his fiery char- er with the spur, and followed by his band the lack Rider leaped the bars and dashed off through the darkness, vanishing among the somber shadows like a troop of phantoms, but for the ring of steel-shod hoofs. Scarcely bad the echoes died away, ere their counterpart sounded in the eupae direction, and then a considerable band of horsemen dashed in view around the corner of the fence, coming from the same direction as had the Masked Out- law, and, a little later, the spy; but their game had flown. They drew rein at the rude bars, and while some half a dozen were left to hold their horses, the remainder crossed the fence and were ap- roaching the house, when muffled cries were Beard from the interior, , The Vigilantes paused and listened. They could distinguish two voices; one deep and hoarse, the other shri]! and cracked, and knew them for those of Jem Moss and his old mother, “ There’s been mischief here, men,” exclaimed the deep tones of John Lansdown, as he dashed forward with drawn revolver. ‘‘ Come on, and let’s see what’s up!” 3 ‘Oh, please don’t kill us, good mister robber —don’t kill us, and we'll be still!” pleaded the old woman with admirably-feigned terror, as Lansdown entered the house, ‘““What do you mean, woman?—who’s rob- bers?” cried the farmer, as he stumbled over a . prostrate form, that kicked and squirmed as if in mortal alarm. . “Ah, don’t, for the Lord’s sake, don’t!” sh moaned, ‘ Take the critters, take the money, everythin’, but don’t kill me an’ my Jemmy!” ‘*Pbunder and blazes!” shouted Lansdown ‘strike a light, somebody, and let’s see what all this rumpus means,” “* Ow—ow—they’re goin’ to burn us, house an’ all!” yelled Jem Moss, gainiug courage as he saw that their ruse bade fair to be successful, “‘Confound you for a pair of stupid fools!” roared the irate farmer, bestowing a couple of hearty kicks upon the yelling man. ‘ Don’t you understand? I’m Jobn Lansdown, and these are all friends, your neighbors, the Vigi- lantes.” ‘* Good! here’s a dip, an’ we'll soon have some light upon the subject,” exclaimed Farmer Cur- ry, as be struck a match and _ finally succeeded in lighting the candle. ‘There, you idiots, don’t you know me?” ‘“Praise the Lord, Jemmy,” cried mother Moss, delightedly, ‘it’s Mister Curry an’—” “Then ‘tain’t them willins come back to murder us, as they said?” ‘*¢Villains’—wbat under the sun do you mean? Who is it you're afraid of, and why are you trussed up here like a roasting pig!” “Deed, taint our fault, Mister Lansdown,” piteously chimed in the old woman; ‘‘ we didn’t do it; it was—” a Well, if ever I met two fools—” “Never mind, John,” whispered Curry, ‘Tl fix it,” and he speedily severed the cords that bound the couple before he added: ‘‘ Now see here; you know me, an’ that I never break my word, I give you just five minutes to tell your story, an’ if you don’t finish by that time, I'll give you both a good ducking at the horse- pump! Now, then, go ahead,” “Then they’re gone?” tremblingly asked the old woman, glancing around the room, ‘* What do you mean? There’s nobody here but your friends.” “The men with black skins all over their faces, who stole our horses, an’ then ’cause Jem- my shot at them an’ hollered, tuck an’ tied us up thi-a-way, an’ then left, tellin’ us if we hollered out or tole anythin’ about them, they’d come back an’ burn us up,” sputtered the worthy Mother Moss, **Go look in the stable, Wakes, and see if the horses are really gone,” ordered Jobn Lans- down, The man departed, and soon returned with a confirmation of the story. The men glanced at each other for a few moments as if puzzled, and then Curry said; “Do you know which way they went?—and how long*since was it?” “Bout half an hour, I cale’late, an’ up the road, as I jedged from the hosses’ feet,” prompt- ly replied Jer. : “Then there’s no use going any further, for they’re miles away before this, I move that we go back and give the other rascals their dues, and be done with it. No need to spoil another day,” said Lansdown, thoughtfully, “But, Jobn, it’s only to be a whippin, isn’§
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it?” interrupted Farmer Curry. ‘‘ You know ‘we've no positive proof ag’inst ’em.” ** A good sound thrashing, and orders to leave the country,” sternly said the leader; ‘and worse if they’re caught around the neighbor- hood afterward. Even if they’re not guilty of horse-stealing, they’re a disgrace to any com- munity, They haven’t done an honest stroke of work for the past year, and on! — around the Bullard’s tavern, guzzling an playing cards - with any one that chances along. What do you say, men?” * Serve ’em right!” was the general verdict. “ Will you go along, Moss?” * T dassent leave mother all alone here,” mut- tered Jem, “Tm goin’ too!” quickly chimed in the old woman, her ready wit understanding the mean- ing of the dubious glances passing between the borderers at ber sour tone, more than words, “You don’t cheat me outen seein’ the fun that- a-way. Besides, I couldn’t sleep now, a’ter bein’ "bused so, an’ them fellers, 1 know, b’long to the sere ie “Wal, then, if you'll go too,” said Moss, as he perceived the drift of her meaning, ‘why, T'll be on’y too glad. I al’ays did hate that Joe Morey, anyhow. But, drat the luck, my hosses is gone, an’ it’s too fur to walk.” ‘ Never mind that,” interposed Curry, ‘‘ you can ride double, for I suspect the ride will do you considerable good.” Moss did not reply to this innuendo, and in a few moments more they were trotting swiftly back toward the tavern kept by Ike Bullard, at the cross-roads called the ‘Traveler’s Rest,” where the three prisoners, Joe Morey, Alex. Woody, and Jake Markle were in confinement, awaiting the punishment sentenced them by the enraged Vigilance Commitee, As they drew rein in front of the door, the tall, muscular Boniface appeared and warmly greeted them. “So you’ve come back to visit my boarders, hev you?’ I ’xpect they’ll be mighty glad to sce ‘ou so soon, fer they’re awful discontented back har, a-cussin’ an’ a-yowlin’ like mad! But, come in an’ take so’thin’; it’s free bar to-night you know, ef you're goin’ to git red o’ them three pesky bummers. Theyre driv away more travel’n thar dratted hides is worth ef sold at a dollar a pound!” Itis hardly necessary to state that his offer was freely accepted by the majority, while the more sober-sided ones produced the instruments of torture—long, supple sprouts of hickory, cut in the wood opposite, while yet others detached rope halters from their horses, to be used for seizings. The three men were brought forth, and the sentence once more announced to them with a recommendation to observe the injunction to the letter, if they had any regard for their well- being. Markle and Woody listened in moody silence, but Joe Morey spoke in a bold, defiant tone: “Took bere, John Lansdown—for I know it’s you that is at the bottom o’ all this fuss— ‘ou'd best think twic’t afore you do this. ain’t got nothin’ ag’in’ you so fur, but ef you dar’ to whip or hev me whipped, Til be even Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. La ie ete a OO a Oe eS with you if it costs me my life the next min- ute. Ed wasn’t proof ag’in’ a bullit t/other night, nor I don’t think you be nyther. I never yit hed to pull twic’t on an critter, an’ I give you warnin’ now that if ao tetched with them sticks, I’li pull trigger on a afore a month goes by. Thar now, put that in your pipe an’ smoke it!” ‘Come, men, let’s get this over with, Will anybody volunteer to use the whips, or must we draw straws?” asked Lansdown, not heed- pg he threat. olunteers were not wanting, for many were there who bad been deeply injured by the out- laws, and although it was not positively known that the prisoners were of them, still suspicion inted strong ainst them. The _ three Rauschelbachs, father and sons, were finally selected, and when, the victims were securely lashed to the fence they plied the terrible withes with strong and willing arms, until the allotted number was fairly enumerated. But terrible as the torture must have been, not one of the three men flinched or emitted a sing’e groan. Even their judges were forced to admire their pluck and endurance. Then their bonds were cast off, and after swallowing the peacrous draught of liquor handed them by the andlord, the three mutilated wretches silently picked up their clothing and with one long, deadly glare at their torturers, vanished in the gloomy night. Then the Vigilantes slowly dispersed, and wended their way homeward, feeling now that the reaction had come, that they had been too hasty and severe in thus meting out punish- ment where guilt was not fully established. Not one among them but what remembered Joe Morey’s threat, and this, coupled with the dead- ly, vindictive glare of the three men as they turned away, whispered that the last of the tragedy was not yet; and they were yet to hear more of it. And they were right. CHAPTER VII. THE ‘OUT WEST” PARTY. Tue house of ‘the Widow Sherwood” pre- sented a bright and attractive appearance on the evening of the ang ee. ach window was illuminated, and down along the avenue were hung curious and grotesquely fashioned lanterns, the handiwork of Nettie, the quadroon and old James, Within the building. the mirth and enjoyment was in perfect keeping. The great dining-room had been stripped of its carpet and furniture, with the exception of a few chairs, and thus converted into a ballroom. The smooth, hard floor of polished oak was pro- nounced ‘just the thing,” and two sets were now dancing a quadrille to the lively, stirring music of a couple of violins, the only instru- ments the neighborhood afforded, The large folding doors leading into the hall were thrown open, and a little group of specta- tors were there congregated, eagerly watching the dancers. Foremost among them, leaning against the wall, were Isabella Sherwood and Edward Lansdown. They had just finished their dance, arranged a week before, and were conversing in low but animated tones, :
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. . i3 Edward excelled himself upon this evening, as, dressed in a neat, tasty suit that set off his tall, handsome form to advantage, his face flushed with pleasure, either from the dance or the gracious words and glances of his beautiful companion. Isabella, too, appeared in her ele- ment, and many were the whispered comments of the spectators upon their appearance or of what a splendid match they would make, Alice did not appear to be in the best of spir- its, although she had anticipated so much en- joyment at the party; and more than once a soft, unconscious sigh rose to her lips as she noted the eager devotion paid to their lovely hostess by Edward Lansdown. Since his ar- rival, her cousin had spoken scarce half a score of words to Alice, although they had not seen each other for three days, Alice was fast becoming jealous of the bril- liant, fascinating widow, who appeared in no wise to underrate the young farmer, Brought up together from childhood with Ed, Alice had insensibly learned to love him with far more than a sister’s love, although bad she been told so the idea would have been ridiculed—at first, “Mrs, Sherwood,” eagerly whispered Ed, “they have nearly finished. May I claim the next dance?” ‘** Really, Mr. Ed—ah, Mr, Lansdown—” ‘* Please don’t change it; the last name sounds so formal,” interrupted the young farmer, ear- Saar “ On condition—that you follow my example,” blushed the lady, yet with an arch glance into his hs eyes, “ Tsabella—may I?” “As you have, why, yes, Edward. You know we are to be brother and sister—why not? But really, you must excuse me this time, for I am engaged to—somebody, I forget his name.” * Well, then, the next?” ‘““ Tf you wish it, But now go and secure your cousin Alice for this set. She needs cheering up, poor girl, aud who is more Lita “paw in that art than—Hdward ?” and Isabella dwelt upon the name with a soft, musical cadence that caused the young farmer’s heart to bound with a wild, delirious pleasure, Evidently the rich widow was in love with the stalwart settler, or had some object to gain in causing him to think so. At all events she had made rapid progress upon a short week’s a reas mee dward sought Alice and found that she was disengaged. : ee Jind how is my little cousin enjoying her- = he kindly asked, as the head couple led off, ‘* Ob, very much!” but she ended with a sigh, and then came their turn. “Ts not Isa—Mrs, Sherwood charming this evening? What a gloriously beautiful woman she is, I have never met her equal,” whispered Edward, enthusiastically. ‘Yes, she is, and as kind-hearted as she is ory. ‘* Alice, what do you—how would you like to have her for—a sister?” stammered Edward, in a low tone. “Asister! Oh, Edward, surely you hayen’t €) tony —do you really mean that you have?’—faltered eset! turning pale, catching her breath conyul- sively. ‘Asked her? Not yet, and may never do so but the thought just happened to strike me, an I spoke without thinking, But who knows? Stranger things than that have happened, and I suppose it’s our natural destiny to marry and be married,” with a little laugh. ‘“ Why, pet, I expect to dance at your wedding before we're a thousand years older,” “Don’t, Edward; I shall never marry!” mur- mured Alice, in a pained tone. * Just look, Alice,” resumed the young man, “at Mrs, Sherwood, Is she not grace itself? She moves like a snow-cloud. You know what we've always said, Alice, since we could first re- member—that we'd always live together and xeey house, and bow deeply in earnest we were? Well, [have never met with but one woman who could cause me to forget that promise, and her name is Isabella Sherwood.” Then the set ended, and Edward conducted the pale-faced girl to a seat, and after a few wandering words, while his eager eyes were roving about in search of Isabelia, he caught sight of her queenly figure, and quickly pressed forward to her side. Poor Alice! Mrs. Sherwood had fulfilled her promise of sending over a span of draught-horses to Farmer Lansdown, which the proud settler had at length consented to work, as his crops were behind- hand already, and he was too straitened in money matters to be able to purchase others to replace the two stolen animals, The widow called every day while taking her habitual ride, meeting John Lansdown, interesting him as she had done the others; a feeling that increased and grew more strong at every meet- ing. Then, several days before the party was to come off, Alice was induced to accompany her home for a week’s visit, and had been, in fact, the master-spirit in arranging the ‘ quilting- bee,” and sending invitations to the males for the dance and supper, At about eleven o’clock they adjourned to sup- sr, Edward conducting Isabella, and Abram igh, her tall, gawky partner of the first set escorted Alice, Then came the remainder, in couples, or pell-mell, but all in the highest spirits, talking, laughing, jesting, and evidently enjoying themselves hugely. The eyes of such as had not already obtained a furtive peep at the table, opened wide with wonder and astonishment, and a number actu- ally paused to stare in open-mouthed bewilder-~ ment at the flashing, glittering display of silver, china and cut-glass. Such a sight had never before been heard of in that new and primitive country. There were huge roasts of beef and pork baked beans, roast turkeys and chickens, cold boiled ham, and even hot vegetables, corn-bread and ‘“‘shortened biscuit,” with a huge bowl of hasty pudding, or “mush and milk,” strong coffee and tea, such as was not an every-day treat to the majority. Pi James and his worthy spouse, Aunt Medora, the cook, with the two others, Nettie, the quad- — roon, and a comely mulatto, Jenny, were neatly aes *
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. dressed and waiting with an alacrity and handi- ness that astonished the natives. More than one furtive glance of wonder and even ad- miration was directed toward the brilliant, stately quadroon by the settlers, both young an‘ old, The main supper being over, the tables were paren cleared and the dessert brought in. astry and conserves, with sparklipg wines that still further increased the wonder of the guests. But when they tasted the ices was the climax. Very few of the guests had ever heard of, much less tasted it, and in their simplicity thought it a kind of custard. CHAPTER VIII. AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. Just then came an interruption to the sport, and one that insensibly cast a feeling of con- straint, if not positive uneasiness over the spirits of all present. A sbarp rap was heard at the door, and before James could answer the summons, it was foreibly thrust open and a heavy tread sounded along the hall, and paused at the open door of the room, All eyes were turned toward the entrance and fixed curiously upon the figure that stood there. It was that of a man, young and hand- some, despite the general disorder of his attire; and the large dark eyes moved around the room with a searching glance, while a peculiar smile curled his mustached lips as his gaze rested upon the face of the fair hostess, As she turned to glance at the intruder, her arm was carefully cast over the chair-back of her partner, Edward Lansdown, and only his ear caught the smothered moan as of mingled pain and fear as she saw who it was, Quickly turning toward her in alarm, Edward noted with astonishment the look of horror in her eyes, as a dull leaden pallor overspread her face ‘and her breath came in quick, sobbing gasps. “ Mrs, Sherwood, you are 1ll—can I-~” No, no, it is only—nothing but—pour me a glass of wine, please,” she faltered, in broken tones, as her eyes half closed. There was one other upon whom the sight of this man worked a sudden and terrible change. although, among the confusion, none observed it, unless indeed the glittering black eyes of the stranger did. When Nettie, the quadroon, glanced toward the door, the tray she was car- _ rying slowly sunk to her side, the contents slid- ing unheeded to the floor, making no noise upon the thick carpet. The smoldering fire suddenly sprung into full blaze in her great eyes, and gleamed with the intensity of deep and fervent passion; either of hate, fear or love. Her face flushed deeply, and then the color died out, leaving a ghostly pallor, that was still further enbanced by the erming features, that for the moment were rendered absolutely hideous. One clasped hand sought her bosom and clutched at the dress as ‘though it was choking her. Through all this the stranger stood there with the careless, sneering smile upon his bronzed features, and one hand, white and shapely, and crossed with more than une flashing gem, comb- ing his long silken beard as he indolently leaned b) against the casing. That he was an unwelcomé and well-known guest seemed plain, and still more evident was the fact of his knowing it, and not caring that such was the case, Mrs. Sherwood was the first one to move, Quickly draining off the glass of wine handed her by Edward, sbe arose and slowly crossed the room toward where the stranger was stand- ing. His eyes followed her every motion, but he did not move or speak until she extended her hand; this he clasped and retained as he stood erect, What was said between them none but them- selves ever knew. Evidently it was something presi to judge from the smile of the man as he replied. Mrs, Sherwood’s face was turned away from the company, but Edward fancied he could detect a slight convulsive shudder agitat- ee frame at the words, early a minute was thus consumed, and then, still holding his hand, Isabella turned and approached her guests, he doffing his hat, and carelessly shaking back the clustering curls of jetty hair, “My friends, allow me to Veer you my brother, whom I thought still abroad,” The man bowed deeply, and, with what Ed- ward thought, a mock politeness, ** You must have noted how bewildered I was, and no wonder! he gave me such a scare!” add- ed the hostess, with a little laugh. ‘You always were so timid, Bella,” returned the gentleman, laughing. ‘I dare wager you thought it my ghost, double, or something of the sort, But, sister, if you and your friends will be so kind as to excuse me for a few mo- ments, I should like to make a little change in +d toilet. I have ridden hard and far to- ay. Most persons would have thought him a hand- some and agreeable spoken person, but the young farmer did not. Instead, he felt con- vinced that there was something wrong under- lying the polished exterior, and a false ring to the low mellow voice. “You will return, then?’ and the close ob- server already alluded to fancied that there was a strange lack of sisterly joy in the tone of the speaker, that sounded more as if she preferred he should answer in the negative. ‘ WillI not? I have changed but little, if any, Bella, and you surely have not forgotten how extravagantly found of dancing and pleas- ure I was in the ‘good old days when you and I were young.’ And I am almost famishing, too, for I have eaten nothing since early morn- ing.” ® Come, then, I will light you up.” ‘¢ Lot James or one of the others do that; you should not leave your company on my account, Nettie—” “No, I will go myself, Nettie ’s needed here,” and a quick spasm shot across her face, “Then if you will, allright. But Nettie, my girl, surely you have not forgotten me?” he added, in his low, soft tone that yet rung out clear and distinct as he advanced with out- stretched hands. The quadroon shrunk slightly back, and shot a quick glance toward her mistress, who was watching them with bright eyes and a set smile,
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. 15 Then ai clasped the proffered hand as she mur- mured: ‘* Nettie nebber forgit, mas’r!” ‘* And never change, either, eh? You look as bright and enchanting as ever,” laughed the man as he turned toward his sister, uncon- Sreeey. chafing his hand, around which still showed the prints of the almost fierce grasp of the guadroon. ‘“*T will be back in a moment, friends, but don’t wait for me. Mr, Lansdown, will your- self and cousin be kind enough to act in my place for a moment?” Edward bowed, and then the strange couple, brother and sister, left the room and passed to- pore upstairs. A cold chill seemed to have en thrown upon the spirits of the company, and led by Edward and Alice, the majorit speedily sought the drawing-room, and wit some delay, sets were formed, the music struck up, and the sport be anew, with fresh vigor and fast-increasing delight on every hand, In ten minutes the cloud had vanished except from the faces of two: Alice, who had been “‘under the weather” all the evening, and the young settler, whose mind was still dwelling upon the strange reception Isabella had afforded to her brother. He could vot help thinking that there was more foundation for her dee and sudden agitation than lay in the cause ad- duced. But what could it be? It was nearly an hour before the two came down-stairs and entered the ball-room together. The man still wore the same clothes, but they had been brushed and neatly arranged, In- stead of the heavy riding-boots, he wore a pair of light slippers that seemed as if his sister might have owned them, they were so small and da aS ““My good friends—for those of my sister should also be mine—’Bella was so agitated at my unexpected arrival that she forgot to an- nounce my name, so I will have to introduce myself. Jerome Malleville,” with a low bow and winning smile. “But, sister, you know my old failing, and really I must dance. Please introduce me,” he added, glancing toward Alice, who was still with her cousin. Isabella took the bint and introduced him to both Alice and the young farmer, the latter of whom received him somewhat coldly; but it was not noticed, and then the four stood up in the same set, When they sought their seats after this was over, Jerome Malleville still re- mained with his fair partner, evidently quite well pleased. Shortly after this Mrs. Lansdown arose to go, and drew the hostess aside. ‘ Alice had better come with us now, Mrs, Sherwood. You have company, and would ett. naturally, to be alone with your rother.” ‘* But, indeed now, my dear Mrs, Lansdown, she must not go,” protested Isabella, earnestly. “Why, that would be too bad! The poor girl has not had one bit of pleasure yet, and has been working like a slave to get things in order for to-night, It will be different now, and she needs relaxation so much; she will be ill if she does not rest, Please say she may stay!” = e “Tt don’t look right, but if you really wish it—” ‘** Indeed I do!” and so the matter was settled, Had they but known what the future was to bring forth, how different would both have acted. Isabella would rather have cut off her right hand than to have urged the favor; and Mrs, Lansdown would have suffered the same torture rather than to have granted it, And yet, perbaps it was best so, Not until the gray light in the east announced the coming dawn did the party break up, for ‘out West” pleasure is like work; they throw into each all their energies, and work or play with their whole heart. The sun was ping over the hilltops before the mansion settled into repose. ward rode slowly homeward, with his heart beating fast and his brain in a whirl, for he had parted upon very friendly terms with the widow, and bright fancies filled bis mind. He found everything quiet and as usual. a Evidently something had occurred to d arrange the plans of the Masked Outlaw. CHAPTER IX. THE THUNDERBOLT, Ir was three days after the memorable party, and the sun was just hiding its crest behind the tree-crowned hilltops. Edward Lansdown and his father were busied in feeding the stock and performing the thousand and one chores that constitute a farmer’s evening task, when they were startled by the quick, irregular thud of a horse’s hoofs, apparently appreaching them at full speed. Simultaneously an exclamation of horror broke from their lips, and, with one accord. they dashed toward the road, Indeed they had good cause for alarm and wonder, Along the level road dashed the snorting, ter- rified gray horse that they had learned to know so well, and there, seated upon its hack, was its usual rider, Isabella Sherwvod. But instead of her customary erect, firm seat, she swayed to and fro as if at every moment she would lose her balance and be hurled with fearful force upon the hard ground, Her hat was gone, with the long black hair floating in wild profusion, and her habit was disordered and torn, It seemed as though she was making fruitless attempts to check her steed’s wild career, and this was the cause of the irregular hoof-strokes, Uttering a cry of encouragement, the young farmer darted to the fence, and with a won- drous power, cleared it at a bound, alighting be- fore the runaway. Then his strong grasp upon the bit bore the horse’s head down and to one side, running him up in one corner of the rail fence. “Quick! father, take the horse; she’s faint- ing!” cried Edward, as he sprung forward, just in time to catch the drooping form of Isabella in his arms, as she reeled from the saddJe. “*My God! she’s dead—they’ve killed her!” groaned the young farmer, as he pressed his lips to her brow, where was a large discolored lump, evidently caused by some severe blow. “ Mother—mother!” called out the old farmer, loudly, that speedily brought his wife to the door
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tv SS a ee Se ss FSH — age 2 of the cabin. ‘Fetch your camphor bottle, quick! Mrs, Sherwood has fainted.” In a few moments the long silken lashes were faintly raised, and the dark eyes flashed a star- tled glance up into the face of the young far- mer, who still held her tightly clasped to his breast. She started, as if wisbing to arise, but he restrained ber and she sank back once more with a low sigh, and nestled still closer to his broad breast, murmuring: “Where am I—what is the matter?” ‘‘ Hush, darling,” whispered Edward, not heeding that other ears were within hearing. “You must be Vg you have been hurt badly, and then fainted.” Oh, I remember now—those terrible men!” shuddered Isabella, catching her breath; then starting up, she glanced wildly and confusedly around, crying: * But, Alice—where is she?” ** Alice!” hoarsely demanded John Lansdown, his face paling, while the other two stcod as if petrified. ‘Alice—what of her—what do you mean?” “Oh, my God! then it was true!” moaned Isabella, bowing her head upon her hands, her form trembling like a tempest-tossed_ bush. “ What is true? Mrs, Sherwood, compose yourself and tell us quickly what has happened,” added the settler, with great calmness. ‘She's gone—stolen away—they’ve carried her off!” sobbed Isabella, bursting into a torrent of tears, “ Wait a bit, father,” whispered Mrs. Lans- down, ‘she'll come out of this in a minute, and thea will be able to tell all. Ob, Alice, my poor, od girl, what has happened to you?” she sob- , but all the time kept trying to restore Isa- bella to her senses. Jobn turned to Edward and said: ‘Go quick and saddle the horses—we may need them, There’s been black work going on here, and by the Eternal, I'll clear it up, and woe be unto those who have harmed my pet!” and the strong man, fully aroused, strode fierce- ly to and fro in the road, trying in vain to con- trol his passions. “My God! Mrs. Sherwood, can’t you speak and tell us what has happened?” he almost howled, clinching his hands until the nails brought the blood through the thick, toil-hard- ened skin in his agony of rage and apprehea- sion, “ Now, John, let me manage her. You only frighten her and make it still worse,” said the wife, now the calmest, outwardly, although her weak frame trembled and shook with sup- pressed emotion. “ Mrs. Sherwood, Isabella, look up and recol- lect yourself. Don’t you know us? Weare all friends here, and no one will harm yon here, Think, and tell us what has happened to Alice.” “ Then Paar Ae gone?” murmured Isa- bella, glancing fearfully around, as if in quest of some dreaded object. ‘Oh, that dreadful, ter- terrible man,” “ Yes, yes; they’re gone—there’s nu one here but us. Tell us what has happened—how did you get hurt?” " “Yes, he did it—that fearful man, with the black mask)” Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk:. “Ha! the Masked Outlaw !” cried the farmer, starting forward. ‘“Yes, he struck me, because I would not go, with a pistol, I think, and—I don’t remember— my head swims and throbs so!” murmured she, her eyes again closing and her bead drooping forward. The family fairly howled with suspense, and Mrs. Lansdown pleaded once more with lips that almost refused their duty, _“ But Alice—where is she? Did she go out riding with you?” ‘* Alice?—yes, she was there—wait. I will recollect all in a moment,” said the widow, re- flectively, placing her hand across her brow. “We went out riding, she and I, witn Jerome —yes, I remember now! We were riding along, not thinking of danger, when a crowd of men broke out from the woods before us, and seized our horses’ heads, ‘“One of them knocked brother down, and then they took Alice from her saddle, Another —a fearful-looking man with his face hidden in a black mask—tried to make me dismount; I struggled and shrieked for help, and struck him with me sg Then he let loose, and, witha istol, I think, struck me here, on the temple, a earful blow. It must have alarmed my horse, for he broke through them and dashed away. Then the next [ can remember is being here iwth you,” concluded Isabella, with a sobbing gasp and Rent a hand to her swollen fore- head, as if bewildered and in pain. ‘*But where—where was it—the place, quick!” cried the farmer, as his son appeared with the horses, Isabella stared at him with a wistful, vacant air, and then Mrs, Lansdown added, ina sooth- ing tone: ‘Don’t be frightened, my poor child; he Seng where were you when they attacked you ‘“T_T don’t know—my head—” gasped the widow, and then once more swooned away. ‘Look, father, there comes Malleville!” cried Edward, spurring forward to meet a forlorn- looking man who was running along the road toward the house. It was indeed Jerome, with torn and soiled attire, and with a little rill of blood trickling down his face from beneath his crushed hat, As he noted them, he waved his hand with a faint shout, and then sunk down, breathless and panting. “Quick!” gasped the old farmer, ‘‘ where did this bappen, and wheredid you leave my child?” “My sister—is she safe?” uttered Jerome, pressing a hand to bis side, as if in pain, . “Yes; she is well; but where was the place? Tell—or better yet, come and show us,” said Edward. “Tam faint and worn out; I can’t walk, but give me a horse and—” “Here, man; jump up and lead the way as though the devil was driving you!” and the old farmer, with a mipents struggle, tossed the young man into the saddle of his own horse, and then gave him two fierce slaps upon the hip that caused it to snort with rm, and then dart madly down the road. | ‘Go on, Ed, I will catch you,” shouted Lans- . * 2.
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Joe Morey, the Night Hawk. i” down, and then rushing to where the gray horse still stood, he quickly tore off the side-saddle, sprung upon its back, lashing it furiously with reins and halter, and soon overtook the other two men, who were spurring along through a cloud of dust. Jerome soon found breath to tell the story, that coincided with the statement of his sister, adding that he was robbed and left for dead or insensible, but that he had watcbed the direction taken by the marauders, and then hastened as quickly as possible for assistance. “But did F he not recognize any of them?” asked Edward, “No. You know I am comparatively a stranger here, and besides, they all wore thick black hoods over their heads and faces, All except one, and he, whom I judged to be a chief or leader of the gang, had on a close-fitting mask,” §5‘‘It is idle to talk—we must act /” sternly ad- mitted the young settler, ‘‘ And we will act! I for one, swear never to think of aught else, never let another pu come between me, until Alice is found, aud these devils punished as they deserve. We have bad enough cause, before this outrage, to hate this man, Masked Outlaw, Black Rider, or devil, whichever he may be, and will see how much longer he can defy all honest men. The Vigilantes will bave little time for rest now, father!” with a barsb, bitter laugh. “ Look! there is the spot—just at the foot of the little rise yonder!” exclaimed Jerome, point- ing forward; and the next moment the three men abruptly drew rein just without the circle of confused and mingled footprints. “Don’t spoil the tracks, boys; we may learn something from them,” said the old man, as he threw himself from his horse and bent over the und, ‘I see no woman’s tracks here; how fe that?” turning to Jerome, who was bending low in his saddle. “‘T don’t know, sir; they certainly pulled Miss Alice from her horse. Perhaps they carried her to where their horses were concealed. heard hoof-strokes soon after they left the road,” thoughtfully replied Jerome. Get down, Ed, and help me; your eyes are keener than mine,and it is getting dark. t him hold the horses and wait until we come back.” CHAPTER X. JOR MOREY’S TRACKS. THE young man passed both halters to Jerome, and then carefully§scrutinized the ground. He soon passed from the road along the trail, that was clearly defined, as though a considerable of both horses and foot had pressed reugh the tangled undergrowth. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of joy, and held up a balf-worn shoe, “See, father, do you recognize this?” “It is hers,” muttered the old man, taking it, while a large tear dropped from his eye, “‘Curse the tears! I mustn’t begin making a fool of myself this soon!” he exclaimed, as he sparily shed the unbidden visitor away, “He was right, Ed, they have carried her.” 7” “What object woul they have in doing that “The Lord knows, I don’t,” groaned Lans- down. “I didn’t know she bad an enemy in the world, poor— Ed, Ed, come here quick!” he added, in a low, eager tone. ** What—what is it?’ “ Look 1” “By the Eternal, father, you're right! I know who made that print,” cried the young man, bending over a plainly defined foot-track, ‘* There nevel' was such another foot in all Kan- sas as that!” “You think it was—” “‘ Joe Morey the Night-Hawk, the man you whipped and drove away from the settlement. God forgive me! but, father, I believe that but for you, this fearful thing would never have happened. He swore to be revenged upon you, and this is his first blow. I said at the time you were too hasty; that you would yet regret it, and see! my words have come true,” sadly sai Edward, rising erect. “*T fear you are right, son, but I thought it was all for the best. You see now that he de- served far more than he got. He must have belonged to the gang, or else why is he here with this cowardly devil who hides his face from the light of day?” * Well, it is too late to regret now; we must work—work night and day until we get the poor bird out of his power! He isa devil now, if ever one wore human shape. You help Jerome with the horse; or no—see, it is getting too dark to follow the trail!” cried Edward gloomily. ‘“ What can we do, then!” ‘Listen; do you go and arouse the neighbors, and send off a portion under Curry to beat over tbe country and hunt up news. Then you come here with others and follow me up. Bring lan- terns and plenty of arms. Give me your pistol; I may n them both before you get Back," hastily added the young man, ‘Here, then; it is fresh loaded. But, how will we find you? Follow the trail?” “Yes, but wait; I will blaze the road, then you will not be delayed. But go, now, and ride as for your life!” ‘**T will be back here in an hour at furthest, Be careful, Ed, and remember how dear you are to us, and what would become of mother if any- thing should happen to you,” and then, with one hand-clasp, the old farmer dashed back to the road, followed by his son. “Wait, father,” he said, ‘I will take Queen with me. I may need her: and now, go.” As the two horsemen dashed away, Edward set to work in earnest, — tgs $n a segment of bark from a linden tree, he built upon its hollowed side a small fire of twigs and dried bark, that soon emitted a bright light; then whistling to his well-trained mare, he en- tered the woods and sought the spot where he had Jeft the trail. Then holding his novel lan- tern low down, so that its rays were cast upon the ground, he slowly moved forward, followed Gass by the snorting mare, now and then using to crash down a pendent bough, or reals over the top of a bush, thus ‘ blazing” the trail for the convenience of those who were to follow. | Before him, and running at almost right
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18 angles with the trail, there gleamed the bright waters of one of the many creeks or ‘‘ branches” that intersect the country in every direction. The trail led directly into this, and was lost upon its shallow, gravelly bed, Despondent, yet resolved not to give up while there remained the faintest shadow of a hope, the young settler spoke to Queen and then com- menced a systematic search along the banks of the creek. Down one side and up the other he searched for half a mile in either direction but without success. Then, as he returned to where he had left his mare, he heard the shouts of men, and the advancing lights told him that his father had returned with assist- ance, They required no explanation; all saw ata glance what was the obstacle, and knew that it was one they could not hope to surmount in the darkness, Then, after « significant pause, John Lansdown spoke: ‘We can do nothing here now, Ed; we must wait for day. It won’t rain, and early in the morning we will come and bunt itout. Now we must ride hard and far. Nota house or a mile of ground must be left unsearched, and perhaps we may ferret out some of the devils. Curry has taken the west and south; let us goin the other direction. Come on!” And under guide of the two bereaved men, the little cavalcade dashed away at reckless 8 , little caring either for their animals or their own persons, for the most of them would have dared fire or death for the sake of the gentle, loved girl who might even now be call- ing upon them for help to preserve her from death—or worse! The majority we say, for alas! even amon that little band there were traitor hearts an lying tongues! The gray light of dawn found them still in the saddle jaded and worn, but more especially the father and son, who not only suffered bodi- ly, but in mind as well. They knew enough of the nature of Joe Morey to tell that there was every thing to fear if indeed their surmises were correct and he was the prime mover in the abduction, * Neighbors,” said the old farmer, in a harsh, dry tone, as though his throat was parched, drawing rein once more at the pointin the road where the assault had been made, ‘“‘ you have been very kind, and I thank you. I won't ask you to do anything more now, for I know that your families are anxious about you, as well as that_you must be pretty well worn out. But Ed and I must keep on. Alice is somewhere, and must be found before we rest.” Several of the party declared their intentions of ee the search without delay, among them being the young man Jerome Malloville The remainder prom to resume it after a rest of their horses, a precvution that was great- ly required, “No, my young friend,” said John Lansdown, turning to Jerome, whose haggard face, yet blood-stained and swaying form told how hard the unusual toil and trouble had borne pon him, “it will not do. You would only kill yourself, and do no good, You are not fit to be out now, and unless that hurt of yoursis attend- Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. Besides, remember ed to, it may end seriously, your sister.” “ But I can’t rest until she—Miss Alice—is safe among her friends once more, It seems as though I was in some measure to blame for it, although God knows I would have died rather than harm should come to her, if it could have been!” ‘* You will die, and that without assisting her in the least,” kindly returned the old man, af- fected by his manner, “ But if you go home now and recruit your strength, then you will be ready to take up the search when we give out, for, God help us! I fear that is what it will come to!” ended the farmer, with a deep groan of agony. ithout more words the young man turned his horse’s head and rode slowly homeward, bowing forward and reeling like a drunken man. Jobn Lansdown, his son, and two of the neighbors who would not desist, left the road and followed the blazed trail to the creek where it had been lost on the preceding evening. Then they separated, and leaving their horses so as not to be impeded, two going up and two down- stream, one upon each side, closely and minutely examining the soft, beget banks for signs where the marauders had left the water. First one of the scouts uttered a cry that an- nounced a discovery, and the other crossed to learn its purport. It was the trail of a single horseman. It was traced for a few yards from the creek, and then the spot marked, In a few minutes— upon the opposite side—a similar discovery was announced. But as before, it was only one set a aaa Yet again and again was this the re- sult. ‘¢ Let us each take one of these trails and fol- low it to the end. It is our only chance,” gloomily observed John Lansdown, with a heavy sigh. This they did, taking their horses. Slowly and systematically they traced them out, one by one. Those who were longest found their com- rades awaiting them in sullen despair. The trails all joined again at one point, but that point? It was atthe edge of along ridge of thick, rocky shale, A regiment might have passed over it without leaving a sign or atrace by which to indicate their course. ‘*My God!” groaned the old man, in agony, that one at least of the three others fully appre- ciated, ‘‘ what can we do now?” and his stern resolution gave way, and sitting down at his horse’s feet, he wept long and bitterly. CHAPTER XI. JOE MOREY, THE NIGHT-HAWK, A WEEK, a long, sad, dreary week, full of grief and despair to the bereaved ones, had elapsed since that day on which the trail of the marauders had been lost, Steady, unremitting search had been kept up, resulting only in disappointment. Almost con- stantly, day and night, had the two men ke the saddle, scouring the country far and wide, aided by the neighbors at first, but who gradu- ally dropped off, worn out or discouraged, until aon
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk:. 19 only the good farmer Curry and Herculean Mart Miller, » hose heart was as gigantic as his body, remained with the two, undaunted and mere to discover the missing one, dead or alive, Poor Mrs. Lansdown, yet weak and feeble from her long illness, took to her bed, and, as the doctor said, was dying of grief and suspense, Isabella Sherwood was her daily companion, and tenderly nursed her friend, but her care and attention were divided by illness at her own house. Jerome Malleville was reported in a recarious situation, from the effects of his in- ury, added to the anxiety and fatigue he bad uudergone, and the good old Doctor Flynn shook his head doubtfully, when questioned re- garding him. It leaked out somehow—most probably the report could have been traced up to the doctor’s riches spouse—that the poor fellow raved con- tinually about his Alice, his sunny-haired angel that he had lost, pleading pitifully for her to return to him, for that life without her presence was a horrible, dismal blank. And many a kindly tear or sigh were dropped over the sad trials of the lovers, as they were now pro- nounced to be, by all, and prayers that all might end happily. Thus the days rolled on, and no fresh tidings greeted the anxious queries whenever two per- sons met, Neither had oe been seen or heard of Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk, and his two com- rades in hiding as well as guilt, Alex. Woody and Jake Markle, although search had been made far and wide for him, And yet all this time he was lying in concealment at scarce a mile from Lansdown farm, chuckling in high Rice over the daily reports given them by Jem oss of how matters progres’ upon the out- side. For they had found refuge in the under- round apartment at the farm-house, where we fase seen the outlaw band in session. There they took their ease, smoking, drinking or serie cards, eating and sleeping, with an occasional run through the woods on some dark night, by way of exercise. The time that dray- ged so wearily to the others, passed pleasantly enough to them, for they were provided with all they required by no less a personage than the Masked Outlaw, in consideration of the es- sential service they had of late rendered him. Nor were they disturbed by the remainder of the band, for, upon some account, the periodical meeting of the league had been suspended, per- baps from fear of discovery by the Lansdowns and their friends, Only being visited by mother Moss and her son, their whereabouts a profound secret from the remainder of the band, who thought that they had left the country imme- diately upon their last be they were at full liberty to concoct their plans and schemes for the future, Prominent among these was revenge. Joe Morey had solemnly sworn to accomplish two things, if his life lasted long enough, and his two confederates had ae to carry them ont if he should fail. ne was to compass the death of John Lansdown, to whose influence they attributed their late punishment and pres- ent confinement; the other was to steal Queen, & PRR Pept ye erate nee Pore } ! the black mare of Edward, which he had long coveted, but feared to steal because she was so well known, But now be would risk it, as they would be obliged to leave the country anyhow, to escape the storm that would ensue if the respected farmer was murdered, They were discussing this subject upon the afternoon in question, ‘But, Joe, how’ll you manage, anyhow?” ob- served Markle, after a pause, consequent upon Morey’s declaring his intention of risking the attempt upon the coming night. “Well, Dll tell you. Both Ed and the old man will sleep sound as a top to-night, and won't think of watchin’ the stable, for the band has been so quiet they’ve almost forgotten them, thanks to this last trick of ours, First (ll make sure o’ the critter an’ then git outside o’ the lot. D'y’ see?” ‘Yes, go on,” 9 * Well, then, P’ll begin yollin’ for the old man —with my pistols all ready, mind ye—until I wake them up. Soon’s they open the door Pll yell out somethin’ *bout the gal’s bein’ found, an’ for them to hurry down to the barn. That'll bring ’em, of course, au’ then—well, you have seen me pull trigger afore, an’ know that when I spot a feller, it’s all night with him,” concluded Morey, with a fiendish chuckle, as he played with his revolver: a Colt’s ‘‘navy,” and in prac- ticed hands, as deadly a weapon as a rifle. “Twon’t do, Joe,” chimed in Woody; ‘they'll know your voice, an’ they’re some on the shoot, too. Anyhow, I wouldn’t care about standin’ up afore them, no more would you.” Bah! loony, can’t I put a couple of bullits in my mouth? besides, they’d be too much flustered to think about it’s bein’ me,” sneered the ruffian. “Well, it may work, but look you, Joe, if it fails, why here’s two more chances to depend on, If I die for it, the old cuss bas got to pay for them stripes with his life's blood!” grittea M in a low, deadly voice, “ An’ a’ter you, me,” quoth Woody. “Well, I know you'll stand good to your words, But now let’s snooze, for if it does come off, we'll need to ride hard and fur before day. An’ if the other—as it may turn out—why, Vil go to the devil wide awake,” It was just dusk when a closely-muffled figure stole out from Jem Moss’s house, and crouching low down among the tangled weeds, quickly gained the growmg corn, through which he passed toa point where the dense woods grew close up to the fence. Scaling this, Joe Morey, the horse-thief—for it was he, bound upon his. mission of plunder—plunged into the under- brush and rapidly made his way toward the Lansdown cabin. He knew the ground well, and did not falter or pause until the fence of the stable-yard was reached, near the point mentioned in our open- ing chapter. With a chuckle of delight he sought the stall usually occupied by Queen; but his joy soon changed to chagrin as he found itempty. A minute sufficed to assure bim that the mare was not in the stable, and fora moment he paused to deliberate as to what course he should pur- sue, muttering low but deep curses, “ Durned if I don’t see it out, anyhow! Shore- arkle
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20 Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. ly he won’t stay away all night, seein’ he’s bin up the last two, an’ he must hev some sleep. I'll take the loft an’ wait; then if he don’t come, why I'll fix the old man anyhow.” To decide was to act with our worthy horse- _ thief, and he nimbly mounted the rude ladder leading into the hay-loft, where he was speedily ensconced in the warm nest, covering himself with the dried, sweet smelling grass to avoid the ravenous mosquitoes. He had uot very long to wait, in reality, although it seemed hours to his excited imagination, as his nap during the day made him unusually restless and wide awake, He uttered a low snarl of joy as he hearda noise at the stable-door, and then it opened to admit Edward Lansdown and his mare, Queen, She was quickly unsaddled and secured in her stall, and then Morey expected to hear the young farmer retire. But such was not the case, There was no fresh hay in the rack, and thinking first of bis favorite’s comfort, the weary and jaded man slowly mounted the ladder, coming up into the stable-loft! This move took Morey by surprise, and he was not in a favorable position, should discovery follow. Still he dared not move, lest the rust- ling hay should betray his presence, ut he had no time. Edward groped around and soon found the pitchfork with which to handle the bay. He raised it up, and then brought it down forcibly. A queerly-sounding noise followed; a gritting as of steel scraping against or penetrating bone —then came a mingled howl of pain and ury. The sharp tine of the fork had 5 eg the right hand of Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk ! CHAPTER XII. THE NIGHT-HAWK’S REPRISAL, For a moment startled, the young settler still held the fork firmly; but then as he felt the vigorous kicking of a man’s foot, and the unmis- takable clutch of a strong hand upon his leg, the truth flashed upon his mind, and dropping the handle, he threw himself upon Morey, clutching him fiercely by the throat, and at the same time _ shouting loudly for assistance. But for the fortunate thrust that moment would have been the last upon earth for the for- tunate settler, but the strong tine rendered the hand powerless, still holding it buried in the hay. Upon the other arm Edward knelt, while his long, muscular fingers were wound tightly about Morey’s throat. That worthy struggled fiercely but vainly; fate was against him. Upon more even terms his great strength and adroit suppleness might have prevailed over the wearied and weakened frame of the young settler, but now he was fast succumbing beneath the deadly pressure, and his senses were rapidly leaving him. In answer to the coutinued shouts of Ed, there came the reply of his father, who rushed from the house, bearing a lighted poe oy ‘“Where are you, Ed, and what is the mat- ter?’ he exclaimed, in an alarmed tone. “Tm all right; but look out, there may be more of the devils down there]” “ What is it, then?” gasped the agitated far- mer, as he reached the ladder, *1t?s a man, I know, and a horse-thief, I uess,” replied the young man, as he slightly re- axed his grasp, feeling the form growing limp and nerveless beneath him, ‘‘ Hurry up, and let’s see who it is.” The old farmer quickly turned the light full upon the face of the prisoner. It was a fearful- looking sight; the face swollen and blackened, the eyes protruding frightfully from their sockets, and with the tongue lolling from the foam-stained lips, Joe Morey did not present his usual trim, jaunty air. ‘* My God! father, it’s Joe Morey, the Night- Hawk!” gasped Edward, sinking back in aston- ishment. ‘Quick! belp me down with him to tbe water. If he dies now, then poor Alice is indeed lost.” The insensible horse-thief was quickly lowered from the loft,and then conveyed out to the horse-trough, that was full of water. The cool liquid was dashed into bis face and over his shoulders with no sparing band, and by its aid Morey gradually returned to consciousness, “Where am I—what’s pee tinge he gasped, wonderingly, at the same time clutching nerv- ously at his throat, now ery inflamed and discolored by the powerful grasp of the sturdy young settler, “Ob, you devil you!” foamed the old man, “ where’s Alice? What have you done with my child? Tell me quick, or I'll tear your heart out and thrust it down your foul throat!” Joe Morey glanced at him for a moment; then a look of deadly hate changed into one of fiendish malice and fe ee revenge. Edward noted this, and read it correctly; so he mut- tered, in an undertone: “ Don’t provoke him, father, just now; wait until he recovers a little, and then he may tell. He may fear death more then.” * You're right, Ed, as you always are,” more calmly added the old farmer, *‘ But, where shall we stow him—here, or at the house?” “* Better take him to the tavern, I guess, and put him in the cellar.” Then adding, ina whisper, too low for the prisoner to hear, ‘*‘ We must try to make him confess, and mother must not hear him.” ‘* Ha! look out, Ed!” cried the old man, as he sprung forward and lunged out viciously with his powerful arm. The cause of this was a sudden movement by Joe Morey. Owing to their excitement, and the apparent debility of the prisoner, they had neglected to bind him, and knowing fuil well the fate that awaited him if brought before the Vigilance Committee, the rascal deter- mined to risk all in an attempt at revenge and escape, His keen eye noted the revolver at Ed’s side, and with this once in his possession it would go hard but he would free himself. So, with a uick, steady thrust forward of one hand, he clutched the weapon, while with bis foot he adroitly tripped up Ea, sending him headlong beneath the water-trough, Had it not been for the watchful eye of the elder man, he would doubtless have succeeded completely in his desperate attempt, But ere
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. 21 the pistol could be cocked for use, the hard, heavy fist of the farmer crashed with fearful. force be- tween the eyes of the outlaw, felling him almost senseless upon his back, where he was quickly bound, band and foot. “ Get the light wagon out, Ed, while I go dress and tell neha pr what is up. We'll doas you said, and take him over to the tavern,” “Well, but burry.” In ten minutes the two men were seated in the light spring wagon, driving rapidly toward the ‘*Traveler’s Rest,” while the bound form of Joe Morey, the horse-thief, bounced around most uncomfortably in the bottom of the wagon, As they neared the tavern, it was plain that there was a goodly gathering at its bar, judging from the loud and confused sound of voices issuing from the open door, “Give them a yell, Ed, and let them know we're coming,” In obedience to the young settler’s clear, ring- ing halloo, the door was filled with curious heads, eager to know what good move bad caused the joyous cry. Mart Miller’s sonorous voice soared above the rest: “ What’s up, Ed, tbat you squeal out so peert? Anytbin’ new?” ‘““T guess so; we’ve got one of the devils, sure’s you live!” cried the young man, excitedly, leap- ing from the wagon. ‘* Caught bim in our stable- loft, too!” ‘Sho! you don’t say! Any one we know?” “Come out here, Joseph Morey, Esquire, horse-tbhief, kidnapper and so forth, and allow the light of your beautiful countenance to shed its luster over these, your good and true friends,” laughed Ed, dragging the prisoner forth by the feet, and then pushing him forward to where the light shone full on his battered and swollen fea- tures, by no means improved by the last blow he had received. “ Look here, Ed Lansdown,” he said, in a tone that betrayed no trace of rancor, “I goes in for every man’s enjoying hisself, and if so be it’ll please these here fellers, why they can look at me from now till to-morrow mornin’; but if so, let me hev a cheer to seton, for I’m mighty nigh worn out, An’ to pay for it, why I'll give you a speech— The last dyin’ speech an’ confession of Joe Morey; the notorious horse-thief an’ counterfeiter!’—that’s my style!” summed u the bold, reckless fellow, with a defiant laug and a volley of curses. ‘I'm durned ef you shain’t hev it, old feller, and a rousin’ snort 0’ whisky into the bargain!” exclaimed Mart Miller. “ Let them be, father,” whispered Edward, as the old man made a motion as if about to inter- fere; ‘it’s the best way after all, If treated kindly, be may confess, but threats will never do any good, and only harden him, The brute knows no fear!” The prisoner drained the glass of a liquid that was held to his lips, and then sunk down into the chair placed for him by Miller. Then Edward Lansdown stepped forward to his side, and said: ** Now look here, Joe Morey, we've played the game paeriy. out, and luck is against you. If you act on the square and make a clean breast of it like a white man, why, I give youmy word that you shall be allowed to go free and un- bound, so far as what you have already done is concerned. Of course, if you make any more trouble, there must come another settlement, Now what do you say?” “*T can tell you better when I hear what it is you want to find out,” leered the outlaw, impu- dently. “First, where is my Cousin Alice?” “T don’t know,” slowly answered Joe, “Be careful, my friend, we know more than you suspect, and nothing but the whole truth will aid you. You were with the gang that carried her off.” “How d’ you know that?” sharply demanded Morey, looking full at bis interlocutor. ‘Look down at your feet, and you can uess, Did you ever see their match? You left a plain enough print where you sat smok- ing while waiting for the women to come along.” “Thunder, Ed, but you are a sharp one!” ejaculated Morey, admiringly. ‘‘ Well, then, ih eg 38 ‘4 en Ww o you say you know nothin about her?” e cf ye - ‘* Jest cause I don’t. I wasn’t boss there, an’ I never set eyes on her after we struck tho branch,” ‘* Who had her then?” “The Masked Outlaw, as you calls bim,” after a short pause as if for thought. ‘‘ You must belong to the band; then where would he be most apt to hide her?” “Took here, Ed Lansdown, don’t throw all your cards to onc’t. I hain’t said that I belon to this gang, nor I won’t say it,’ither. Butif 1 did—mark me, I say sipposn I did belong to it—why, I’'d see you all essentially and etarn- ally cussed fu’st, afore I’d peach, and then I wouldn’t! I may be low enough, an’ mean enough, an’ all that, but, please the pigs, I'd never be sich a dratted puke as to split on them as trusted me!” firmly and defiantly responded the prisoner, “Hang the rascal—string him up and shake the truth out of him!” was the general cry, and a fierce rush was made toward the captive, foremost among whom were John Lansdown and Abner Curry. “Back, men !” Ed shouted; then adding in a quick voice: ‘‘tell me where Alice is, and I'll save you yet.” . * Tcouldn’t if I would, for I don’t know. Let ’em rip, Ed, an’ git it over; it’s bound to come to that, yit,” coolly replied Morey. * Stand aside, Ed,” ordered bis father, hoarse- ly; ‘‘ we'll make him confess,” ‘Dew tell!” drawled Morey, in a sneering tone. ‘*I want tew know!” ; Edward no longer sought to restrain the crowd, but, exasperated bimself at the reckless obstinacy of Morey, joined with the rest, al- though resolved to prevent murder at all risks, He thought that possibly, under the terrible torture about to be inflicted, the outlaw’s reso- lution would bs broken, and he would confess all; and if so, he resolved that the promise he had given should be fulfilled to the letter. A strong rope was quickly provided, and thrown over the sign before the door; the slip-
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22 Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. noose was cast over Morey’s head and a dozen hands grasped the other end. Edward stood near, with a keen knife in his hand, ready to sever the rope if such a course should be ren- dered necessary. The signal was given, and the slight figure of the outlaw was swinging be- tween heaven and earth, the bright lights plain- ly revealing his convulsed and horribly-dis- torted features, Then he was lowered to the ground, and as Edward supported him from falling, the question was again repeated, **Tt’s no use, Ed,” gasped Morey; and then as he regained his breath he added in a defiant tone: ‘ You might as well end it at onc’t, boys, for itll do no good if you keep on foolin’ all night. I hey nothin’ to confess, an’ if I did, T'd see you all—” and the sentence was suddenly checked, as he was once more swung from the earth, Once more he was lowered and elevated, and now the stern vindictive glances of the settlers told that all mercy was banished from their hearts; that the outlaw’s doom was sealed. But not so Edward Lansdown, He still hoped to gain the confession, and leaping high into the air, he drew the keen blade across the straining rope, It parted with a sharp twang, the men holding it being cast to the ground in a struggling heap, while the young settler supported the limp, senseless form of the outlaw back to the chair, and then, with revolver in either hand, cocked and leveled, he shouted: “Back, men, I tell you, stand back! You know me, and I tell you that so sure as there is a God above us, the first man that lays bands upon Morey dies!” His stern, resolved tone awed them far more than did the gleaming weapons. The young settler was a general favorite, and it was well that such was the case. Had he not been, now that their angry passions were in full play, the end must have been terrible. In their fury both would have been sacrificed; they paused and listened to reason. ‘*T have my reasons for this, men; I hope to get him to acknowledge all, but if I fail—if he continues obstinate, then I will be one of the very first to say, give him the punishment he deserves!” “The boy is right, by mighty!” exclaimed Mart Miller, and he ranged his Herculean frame beside Edward. ‘ An’ them that says no must git over me fu’st!” It was the signal for reaction, and Joe Morey was saved for the present, CHAPTER XTIL THE DEATH SHOT, LONG ero the sun arose, the bar-room of the *“‘Traveler’s Rest” was crowded with settlers; the news of the capture of the horse-thief, Joe Morey, having spread far and wide. Mart Miller was there, and having taken a strong fancy to the prisoner from his audacious be- havior on the preceding night, he declared the poor devil should not be hung without a good square meal first, and nothwithstanding the op- position of the others, he opened the door and lifted the wretched-looking captive out from his prison. While he was still eating heartily, the two Lansdowns arrived, and Ed once more tried to persuade him to tell them where the stolen girl was hidden, ‘* Now, look here, Mr. Lansdown,” earnestly said Morey, pausing to reply, ‘‘ you acted the gentleman and a white man’s part last night, an’ | am thankful for it. If I knowed whar she was, I'd tell you ’ithout axin’, now, a’ter that. But as true as I live, I don’t know no more’n you do.” ** But you helped to take her away,” persisted the young man. **'No, I did not.” “But you acknowledged it last night!” “Tsaid ’at I was with the gang you follered, an’ so I was. But, young man, you followed the wrong trail !” slowly uttered Morey. ‘* The wrong trail? but, then, which was the right one?” faltered the astonished Edward. ““ Now you stops me, I said I wouldn’t peach on the gang,” obstinately declared Joe, ‘* an’ I won't nutber, I admit that I b’long to the band led by the feller you know as the ‘ Black Rider? I admit stealin’ your two horses, an’ a hundred more, for I know that you fellers mean to hang me anyhow, an’ ’twould be a pity if you didn’t have some excuse for doin’ of it. But I won’t betray them as trusted me—so thar!” and be once more resumed his eating. ‘*You cursed lying dog!” howled John Lans- down, pressing forward, knife in hand. ‘ Tell me where Alice is, or VH—” The settlers all endeavored to restrain the frantic man, who seemed endowed with more than buman strength, and while they were thus engaged, Joe Morey cut the bonds that held_ his feet, sprung from his chair, grasped a revolver from the belt of one of the settlers, and then, before any one divined his intention, or indeed perceived his action, discharged it full in the face of the old man, so close that the flames blackened his face and singed bis beard. Then plying his heavy weapon asa club, he dashed those aside that were before bim and leaped out into the open air, running down toward the cornfield, uttering a wild cry of de- fiant joy. Then Ed knelt over the ghastly form, heedless of all—heedless that the murderer bade fair to effect his escape—heedless of all save that his loved parent lay there before him, dead or dying. tt Waa an exciting scene without. First came the nimble form of the flying fugitive, speeding toward the friendly cornfield, where he might hope to successfully baffle pursuit; next came the gigantic settler, whose ill-timed clemency had been the prime cause of all this; and after them came the rest. Joe Morey still kept on. Then the spell seemed broken, and a rattling volley was sent ae. him by the pursuers. He staggered and fell, But again he was up and then the fence of the cornfield is reached, He dragged himself half over. Mart Miller paused and took a quick, deadly aim. The revolver cracked spitefully. Morey gave a wild yell and rolled over into
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. 23 the field; then he lay still, His race was run, yet he glared vindictively at his pursuers, as ene lifted bim up and conveyed bim back to the house, showering faint but horrible curses upon his destroyers. Upon examination he was found to have re- ceived thirteen wounds, most of them through the body, and yet he still lived, The worst passions of the settlers were now aroused, and they thought not of mercy. A rope was procured and hastily cast over the sign. Morey watched all their proceedings with a sneering, defiant smile upon his lips, despite the agony of his wounds, that were fast drain- ing bis life away. At this moment, a clear, sharp report was heard from the cornfield opposite, the blood spouted from a tiny, round hole in his forehead, and Joseph Morey, the Night-Hawk and out- law, dropped forward, dead, He ad indeed cheated the rope. A small curl of blue smoke slowly floated up from the cornfield fence, and indicated the spot from whence the death-shot had been winged, As soon as their stupor would allow, the settlers seized their arms and dashed toward the spot, But they soon returned, having traced a man's footprints from the point, to where he had mounted and fled upon horseback. They de- cided that it must have been some one of the outlaw’s companions in crime, and who feared the suspicious movement portended a confes- _ ae so fired the death-shot to preserve imself, CHAPTER XIV. “THE OLD, OLD STORY.” THE days and weeks rolled by, and matters once more resumed their old course at the settlement, bringing joy and hope to one, grief and despair to others, as from time immemorial. The general bustle and excitement, conse- uent upon the mysterious abduction of Alice Walker, and the tragic events so closely follow- ing it, had died away into comparative quiet- ness, The general belief was that she had been murdered, and all traces of the crime so effect- ually removed, that not until Judgment Day would the mystery be revealed. And so the majority allowed the matter to rest; the major- ity, but not all. Edward Lansdown could not rest idle while the fate of the kind, gentle girl that they all loved so well, was uncertain, and he wandered far and wide, like a modern Ahasuerus, with despair and gloom filling his heart, and almost without a hope of ever succeeding in his quest, He did not abandon it even for a day, some- thing goaded him on, until he only found rest in the dle of his faithful Queen, whose spirit was undaunted. although the satiny shine of her ~~ was gone, and the ribs stood out promi- nently. Edward Lansdown was sorely troubled, He remembered the oath he had taken never to rest, never to think of aught else until Alice, the lost one, was found. And yet he caught himself continually breaking this; be dail wrestled against a power stronger than himself. It was the old, old story; he was in love. He denied it to himself persistently, almost fiercely, but yet the words would return, and he would arouse himself with a start, to find himself dreaming of love, forgetting Alice, his vow, » everything but Isabella Sherwood. Mrs, Lansdown bad sunk beneath the shock, and grief had brought on another attack of her old malady, a remittent fever, that her weaken- ed frame was unable to conquer. Jobn Lans- down was yet disabled from steady work by the severe wound he had received at the bands of Joe Morey, the outlawed horse-thief, and but for the kind assistance of Mrs, Sherwood, their future would have been gloomy indeed, The proud spirit of the farmer was sorely humbled, and after some resistance he allowed the fair benefactress to have her own way, but only upon condition that she would accept one- balf the crops as her share. To put bim at ease, Isabella consented to this, and then hired hands to work the farm, superintending it herself an- tilthe farmer was strong enough to be about. Most of ber time was spent there, and several of the neighbors were uncharitable enough to hint, more or less openly, that the ‘‘ widder was a-settin’ her cap for proud Mr. Ed’ard.” But be that as it may, by means of this ar- Phen ccgge the young couple were often thrown togther, and truly, she did not act very cbilling or reserved toward him. Often he would bave to escort her home in the evening, and during their long, quiet walks, it was one constart, killing struggle to keep the hot, burning words of his love from overleaping their barrier; and yet these were the most happy, deeply prized moments that he knew, and throughout the long, weary day, he looked forward to them as the sweet, deserved reward of bis toil. One calm, lovely evening, Isabella and Ed- ward left {the Lansdown farm-house, and, arm in arm, slowly walked down the road toward the dwelling on the knoll. He was gloomy and silent, as usual, while on the contrary, Isabella appeared very happy and gleesome, though in a quiet subdued way that was usual with her when with the young settler, “Oh, Edward, I received a letter from in brother to-day; Jerome, you know,” at lengt! remarked Isabella, **Oh, did you, and is he well?” listlessly que- ried Lansdown. “Yes, well in body, but sick at heart. It was in answer to one of mine, telling him, that as yet nothing had been heard of our poor Alice,” was the softly breathed reply. Edward did not answer, but a half-stifled groan broke from his lips as he bowed his head, ‘‘ Now, brother "—the old compact was still preserved, although both well knew what a mockery it was—*I don’t know what you will think, perhaps you will call me unfeeling and thoughtless—” , “Teall you—" began Edward, passionately, but then he ceased abruptly. “T know how you feel about this sad affair,” she added, after a slight pause, as though wait- ing for him to complete his sentence, ‘‘ and that it gives you pain to allude to it; but I thought best I should tell you, You won’t be angry? “Tsabella, could I be angry with you?” re- proachfully asked Edward, ‘*T hope not, dear brother; but now listen,
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| ee Pee Lee Do you know that I believe—really and truly believe—that had not Alice been stolen away so strangely, she would have been my sister before this time?” “Your sister! Isabella, why, what do you mean?” exclaimed Edward, as if startled. “Did you not notice how attentive Jerome was to her from the time of their first meeting at my party?” “Your brother—Alice? No, I did not; why, she was only a child!” ‘‘ Nineteen years makes an old child in our days,” laughed Isabella; ‘and that washer age, But I am surprised that you should have been so blind. Or perhaps you know nothing of the symptoms?” with a quick upward glance at the somber face of her companion. * As you say, perhaps, Dut go on.” “ Well, I know that Jerome bad taken a great fancy there, and I knew, too, that Alice liked him beat well—more than that I could not get the shy little puss to acknowledge, But I saw more in her eyes and in her voice, when she spoke to or looked at him. “You partly know hovz terribly the blow fell upon him when she was stolen, taken right from before bis cyes, but you could not guess the half. The doctor said his long illness resulted mainly from the wound he had received upon the head; but I lnew better. It was his heart that felt the deadliest blow. [learned the trath while nursing him through his delirium; he had but one plaint,” softly spoke Isabella. ‘Go on,” whispored Edward; he dared not trust his voice further, for he was thinking of the pain at his own heart, j “Tt was that, I believe, that kept him down so long, and when he had recovered strength sufficient to be out of doors, and learned that all hope of discovering her was vain, it was that that drove him from the country. But now he says that he cannot remain away, that some- thing commands him fo come back; that he will be enabled to find her, if he enters the search himself. Poor Jerome, how I pity him!” sighed the widow, ‘“ Tt will be useless,” said Edward, despond- ently. ‘‘He will only meet with disappoint: ment, as I have; she will never be found—alive! Can he do more than i have—then J am doing?” “*T know what you bave done, brother, but I have more faith, I believe that Alice is still alive and well, and that she will be found in good time. But now, dear brother, do not mis- construe my words, or be offended if I speak plainly—will you?” * Go on, Isabella. I could not take offense at anything you might say. Oh! if I could only realize—only read my—” but then he checked le ionate words and hastily averted his ea, ** Read what, Edward? ‘if I could only real- ize;?—will you not finish the sentence?” and the dainty hand clasped his arm more closely, and she drew more to him until he could feel the strong throbs of her heart against his arm, * No, not now; in a moment, perhaps, when you have finished what you were saying.” “It is a promise, now remember, and I will remind you of it,” archly said Isabella, resum- ing her former tone, Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. » ‘“* Very well: it is a promise, but remember, that if it estranges us, you are the cause of it. I would keep it buried yet a little longer,” with a strong but broken tone. “ Can anything estrange us now?” softly mur- mured Mrs, Sherwood. ‘‘I thought we were to be good and true brother and sister, forever, But I will risk that! Let me see; what was it I was saying?” * About speaking plainly—” ‘* Yes, I remember, now. I meant that I be- lieved that Jerome would do more good—that he would search with more chance of success than you—” ** Tsabella!” * Please do not mistake me, Edward, or think that I doubt your love or sincerity; for I do not. Far from it! I:now that you have done more—endured more than any other man could and not give way beneath it, But, dear Ed- ward, I think there isa love that can accom- plish more than that of a brother. “Now do you understand why I said that I believed Jerome would accomplish more than you—would succeed where you have failed? For I truly and firmly believe that Alice is alive, and concealed somewhere not far from us, I know that Jerome has that feeling for her. that be would die for’ her sake if need be, an I feel, too, that she reciprocates the sentiment,” concluded Isabella. “You may be right, Isabella. God knows I pray you are! but still I fear it is no use. I feel that Alice is dead—has been murdered! But who by, and for what reasons? that is what puzzles me. I know that she never wronged any one in thought or deed—she was too pure and good for that, my little angel!” and the strong man choked down a sob, for the dread fancy conjured up in his mind rendered him wi eak, “ Could it not have been those men—the ones who were so terribly lashed? You know what they swore, and bow desperately that poor fel- low attempted to fulfill his vow,” suggested Isabella. ** No, he told me with his dying breath—and I believe he spoke the truth—that he did not touch her—that he knew nothing of her except that she was in the power of that demon we call the Masked Outlaw, or the Black Rider. But you tremble—do not fear, darling; a thousand such should not harm you while I draw breath or can ya an arm,” and he drew ber closer to his side, “T know that, dear brother, but any allusion to that dreadful man always causes a cold thrill of horror to run over me. But about Jerome— will you give him any encouragement? He said he fancied you had taken a dislike to him, from some cause,” anxiously asked Isabella, “Tt’s true, Isabella, I did feel an aversion to him at first, I know not why. It seemed as though there was something wrong or false about him; what, I could not determine. But it soon wore off, ana when I saw his grief at Alice’s disappearance, | warmed toward him, and now I do not know one man whom I would sooner greet us a bro—cousin, than Jerome Mal- leville.” “Then I may tell him this?”
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk, 25 But see! here we I had no idea we had walked so far!” he abruptly exclaimed, coming to a “ Certeinly, if you wish it. are at the gate, use, “Yes, and it is late, too; but remember your ae ppd he do not escape without fulfilling hat!” laughed Isabella archly, with a bewilder- ing glance from her eloquent eyes into Edward’s ace, He caught the glance, and drew wonderful as- surance from it; au assurance that made his heart throb madly, for it told him that his secret was a secret no longer. That she knew what was sg AIC prepared for his confession, and more, It told him that she was not angry —that she returned his love! And yet he hesitated. She stood there, look- ing earnestly into his face, with a soft, subdued canis upon her countenance, and a deep, thrill- ng light in her eyes, He quivered for a moment and then spoke: “ Do you claim its performance, then, Mrs.— Isabella?” “Tdo,” ** Isabella, by so doing I break a solemn oath,” “Tf keeping it gives you pain, racks your brain and tears your heart, then it isa bad vow; and a bad vow, like a bad resolution, is better broken than kept.” And she looked steadily at him and smiled, A smile so tender, so full of intense, yearning love, that Edward involuntarily recoiled as froma galvanic shock. “Tf its telling would part .us—would break our friendship?” he slowly uttered, “Still you must tell it; but it will never do that, dear—brother.” “ Not that name, Isabella, not that name!” he cried, winding his strong arms around her yield- ing form. a “What name, then Edward? What will you offer in place of the brother of whom you rob e?? “Listen and I will tell you all. I can struggle no longer, and itis not right that [should. I love Pegg do you alone, with all the strength and fire of my heart!” His arms wound tightly around her supple, yielding form, and pressed her firmly, almost fiercely, to his gad oe Pesan ina heart. And she—her lips did not refuse love’s tribute, and in her eyes, glowing and thrilling with a luminous light, Edward saw how deeply, how passionately he was loved. CHAPTER XV. THE MYSTERIOUS NOTES, — ANOTHER week had passed by, and still noth- ing was heard of the missing girl. Nearly three months had elapsed since the memorable even- ing upon which the thunderbolt fell, and yet all was shrouded iu mystery as at first. And still the young settler did not despair, nor totally abandon the search, His exertions were now seconded by those of Jerome Malleville, who had returned, determin- ed as he said, to never rest until he had found and restored his darling—so he termed her— to her home, or had found such proof of her death as would place the matter forever beyond a doubt. ~~ He was. often at the farm-house, and by his gentle, winning ways had won the hearts of both the farmer and his wife, while Edward, who had at first regarded him with dislike, now looked upon him as a brother, The neighborhood was now unusually quiet and peaceful. Nothing further was heard of the Masked Outlaw and his gang of marauders. Alex, Woody had been arrested in Missouri for burglary, and was then imprisoned at St. Josepb to await his trial. And of the other who had joined in the oath of vengeance, Jake Markle, nothing was known, and honest John Lansdown had entirely forgotten the circum- stance or remembered it only with a careless laugh, whenever he beheld the deep scar left by Morey’s last shot. One day as Edward stopped at the post- office, kept by Ike Bullard, in conjunction with the tavern, a strange-looking letter was handed him by the curious postmaster, As he glanced at the direction, an exclamation of wondering surprise burst from his lips and no wonder, “Mighty queer-lookin’ epis’le that thar, Mis- ter E@ard,” quoth Bullard, peering anxiously over the young man’s shoulder, ‘“ It’s plain enough to read, anyhow, but I cale’late the pus- son as sent it didn’t study writin’ overly much when he went to school.” “ From Leavenworth—I wonder who it can be from?’ turning it over and holding it up toward the sun, as we are all prone to do when puzzled, It was a common yellow envelope, but the ad- dress, instead of having been written with a pen, was formed of letters cut out from some newspaper, and carefully gummed on to form the requisite words, ** Better ee it, hedn’t yer? ’Pears to melike one you'd find it out that-a-way sooner, don’t i ‘‘A sensible remark of yours, Bullard, any- how, and I guess I’ll follow it,” returned Ed- ward, laughingly, but his fingers trembled, and a bright, wild light shone in his eye as he un- folded the sheet, Ue felt as if by instinct, that he was about to learn something regarding Alice. Both uttered another exclamation, for the page was filled with words formed from letters = the direction had been, gummed down, one one, "the note ran as follows: “ You appear very easy consouled for the loss of Miss Alice, and I supose you woodnt care much if you never herd from her agin now that you have taken to makin love to the widow sherwood she only foolin you and if youl take a fools advise youl give her the sakk before she dose you besides she is already married. Now how much wood you give me iff I wood tell you just wear Miss Alice is kep hid. I know the plase and if you) makeit worth my wile will tell you as I ante got nothin lade up aginst you folks. e wants to make her mary him t.sat’s why they kepe her shut upp. Iff you want to know wear she is dropp me a note sayin what youl give. It wont do no good too try too find me out by goin to the PO for I know you awl and will be on my gard. Rite soon or not a tall. “Your true friend, “A; EXANDER Dumas.” Despite the anxiety with which the contents of the strange missive filled him, Edward could eo 4
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. not restrain a smile as he read the signature at- tached, and wondered what that polished writer would think, could he see tbe composition thus foisted upon his name. This was quickly dispelled, however, and he started for his oe and mounting, dashed swiftly down the road, Edward soon reined in bis horse to a slow walk, and again perused his strange letter. He knew not what to think. One portion of ita lie—and that concerning Isabella was such, of course—could the rest be depended upon? He decided no, but at the same time resolved to trace it up, and find out who was the author. Before he reached home he decided what to do, He would say nothing of the letter to any one, but would answer it, making a liberal offer, and would go down to Leavenworth to find out who called for the letter directed to -Alexancer Dumas, This plan he proceeded at once to carry out, He told the family that he must visit Leaven- worth for a few days upon business, and ar- ranged it so as to start on the same day the semi-weekly mail left, knowing that he could easily hold his own with it upon his gallant Queen. Once there, he thought he could pre- vail upon the postmaster to allow him a station inside the office where he could see the person, without himself being noticed, by showing him the strange letter and explaining the case to him fully. During his absence, events changed the tran- quillity of the settlement, and once more were the settlers enraged and greatly alarmed. In one nigbt no less than five farm-yards were cleared of horses, and that, too, so silently that no one was the wiser until day dawned. The next night two more were robbed, and at one of them, the farmer, who was lying in wait, had fired upon the marauders, killing one of them, and when the family gave the alarm to the neighbors, it was learned that the poor settler had been mortally wounded and left for dead by the enraged robbers. He lived long enough to declare that one of them was the Masked Outlaw, and that during the struggle he had torn the hood from one of the others’ head, recognizing him to be none other than Jake Markle, whom they all thought either dead or fled the country. That same evening Isabella had been wounded in thearm with a bullet. She said she had been out riding, and was returning home, when her horse suddenly shied, and then a shot was fired from ambush. But that the start of the horse had probably saved her life, and the bullet merely scarred her arm. She had fled, and did not know, such was her alarm and confusion, whether she had been pursued or not. All these outrages combined, so wrought upon the settlers, that they turned out en masse, arming to exterminate the gang if it took all the fall. But ride as they might, go where the would, their search wasin vain, The maraud- ers could not be found. Several of the settlers said nothing, but set off alone, by day or by night, to scour the country, to search among the forests or the hill retreats, but their exer- tions were unrewarded. But leaving them for the time being, we will follow Edward Lansdown upon his ‘ wild-goose chase,” and see how he fared. Arriving at Leavenworth, the young farmer immediately sought an interview with the post- master, and after considerable difficulty, ob- tained that official’s consent to the carrying out of his plan. All day long he waited with an anxious heart, never leaving his post for a moment, lest ‘‘ Alexander Dumas” should call and re- ceive the letter during his absence, and thus render his scheme futile, The day passed, and when the office closed for the night, he went to his hotel with a downcast heart, cursing him- self for being beguiled into such a nonsensical proceeding. But, resolved not to give up while a hope re- mained, thinking it was for Alice’s sake, he once more resumed his watch, this time with more forethought than before; he carried a substantial lunch, so that hunger might not again be added to his other trials. That even- ing, just before dark, a letter was handed him, taken from the receiving-box. It was a drop- letter, and directed as the other one had been, with printed letters, cut from some newspaper. He did not open it until safe in his room, and then his eager eyes rapidly deciphered the fol- lowing note: “Mr. Epwarp Lanspown:—You ante qlite so sharp as you think you be. I told you it would be no use too try too find me out until I was reddy for you to do it now by rites I ott too let you find out wear Miss Alice is yourself seein you know so much but I wont if youl do as I tell you now but if you dont do it now thenits all upp and youl never bere from me no moar. Your watched the post offis is watched and you dont know who by if gee leve the Citty Ul git your leter and then see if Ml tell you wear she is iff you dont then its no use and youl never find out until its too late. “ Your friend or not just as you eee ““ ALEXANDER Dumas,” Before he slept that night, Edward had done what he should at first. He called on the chief of police, stated his case, and asked for a man who would not be upon regular duty the follow- ing day, but who would be willing to lose a little sleep for a goodsum, The young settler had a fair knowledge of human nature, and had also a full purse, so that when he left the worthy official his heart was lighter—and so was his * pocket, From the opening of the doors a policeman in citizen’s clothes was stationed in the post-office, in apparent idleness, but with ears that drank every name spoken at the delivery. Until mid- afternoon he remained upon guard without result, and was beginning to think that it was not such an easy task after all, when a person approached the delivery, and with head close to the aperture, spoke in a low tone, “ Speak louder, I can’t hear you,” returned the clerk, ¥ The words were aan uttered, but still the policeman did not catch them. ** Ah!” exclaimed tbe official, in a clear tone, “that’s it, then. Yes, here’s a letter for Mr. Alexander Dumas,” 3 The letter was handed to the inquirer, and hastily taking it, she left the building, followed by the spy, who performed his duty well, It «
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. was dark before he called at the hotel, where Edward was anxiously awaiting tidings. He had left town as proposed, but returned by an- other road and changed hotels. “Well, sir, what have you found out?” he ex- claimed as he pushed the spy a seat. “Bnough to satisfy you, sir, I reckon.” ‘¢Then you have found him?” “Not exactly, but I’ve found her, for it’s a woman.” ‘A woman! Are you stre?’ asked Lans- down, in surprise. “The one what got the letter was a woman, euRep maybe ’twas for a feller; I don’t know at, ‘* Well?” impatiently added the young settler. ‘Well, I waited until most night, when a wo- man, dressed all in black, with a thick vail over her face, axed for and got the letter. Of course I follered her home and watched outside until dark, to make sure that she didn’t come out ag’in,” ** And this house—is where?” “Pil show you at any time, but I must go on duty at ten to-night,” added the policeman, “Very well, we will go now. ere is your money and a dollar extra for this last. Now come, quick!” ‘All right, here I am,” and the two left the hotel and strode rapidly along the dark streets, Presently they paused before a small, dingy- looking house, and signifying tbat this was the place, the spy added: “Do you want anything more, now, sir?” ‘No, I will do very well; you may go, now.” ** Well, then, all right, but mind, sir, the feller what is on this beat is a_ most onaccommodatin’ cuss as ever you see. He’d jerk you up ina “T will not give him the chance,” and so say- ing, Edward knocked loudly at the door, i a few minutes it opened, and a woman stood before him, holding a lamp. He instantly recognized her, and without giving her time to speak, he pressed into the house, and closing the door, turned the key, withdrew it, placed it in his ket, saying: ** Monsieur Alexander Dumas, I am happy to see you!” CHAPTER XVI THE MASKED UNMASKED. THE evening succeeding that upon which Ed- ward met his mysterious correspondent was des- tined to be an eventful one to the personages of onitapenl rab sd item a : figure, sligbt an ceful, speeding rapidly along the road edteeto the Lansdown farm-house, into which it disappeared. Half an hour later, John Lansdown came rushing out, fully armed, and pausing only to saddle a horse, he dashed at full s toward the nearest neighbor’s, A few quick words to the settler, then onward to repeat the scene, while the man spoken to alsoarmed and spurred away in hot haste. Evidently that figure had aa ne deeply momentous tidings. Tn than an hour, fully a score of sturdy, determined men, all armed io the teeth, were direction. As they came to a halt, a man slipped from the door and tried to slink away. But his maneuver was noticed, and Lansdown called out in a quick, sharp tone: ‘Halt, you cursed horse-thief, you!” but the man only gavea long leap, and then darted swiftly away. The farmer straightened his arm and glanced along the blue barrel of a revolver, Its report was mingled with a wild yell, and leaping bigh into the air, the fugitive fell to the ground; one convulsive quiver, and the limbs straightened out in the embrace of death. One of the settlers dismounted and turned the body over; it was that of Jim Moss, “He doubly deserved it; he gives them shelter and information,” sternly said Lansdown, and then they rode onatarapid pace toward the farm-house of the dead traitor. Pausing under cover of the woods, a short council was held as to the best course for them to pursue, and resulted as follows: they were to encircle the house, and then the main party would, by force or otherwise, enter the building. If the outlaws would surrender peaceably they were to be well treated, until they could be tried; but if a shot was fired, or a blow struck, then it was to be extermination. No answer being made to their repeated knockings, Mart Miller burst the door open with one powerful thrust of his shoulders, and then the room was filled with the Vigilantes. A light was quickly kindled, and by its aid the door of the underground apartment, was soon discovered, it not having been concealed as usual, It was thrown open. The room was cark, save by the flickering rays of the one candle, but the crouching of a dozen forms, and the sinister gleaming of wea- pons could be seen, showing that although their prey was holed, it would not be taken without a desperate fight. “You see, my worthy friends, you are in our wer, and that resistance is useless. So now brow down your weapons and advance oneat a time, and you will be treated well,” called out John Lansdown, “Tf you want us, you must come and take us!” was the reply. in the clear voice of the Masked Outlaw. ‘Fire, men, and then cut your way through them!” he added, in a tone of stern command, But at the first words Lansdown had seen what an advantage the outlaws had over bis party, owing to their being plainly revealed by the light, while the others were almostinvisible, and he quickly swung to the door of thick, heavy oak, just as the united discharge rung out. The force of the missiles was deadened, although several inflicted painful wounds after piercing the door, “Start a fire, somebody, so we can throw it down among them,” he shouted as he barred the door, just in time to resist the rush of the out- laws. A large fire was hastily built upon boards, and pieces of fat pork, butter and oil placed on it, and then as the door was quickly opened, the blazing mass was hurled into the room. With wild yells the enraged settlers closely followed riding up to the “ Traveler’s Rest,” from every | this novel lamp, and then began a fierce, deadly 4
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Joe Morey, the Night Hawk. LA strife, in which quarter was never asked, never thought of, but each man grappled his foe in an embrace that was to end but with death. The outlaws had all donned their sable hoods, at the first alarm, and consequently were easily recognized. The masked chief stood erect in one corner with revolver that never spoke uselessly, as yet unharmed, although the dead and dying were lying thick before him. Just then came an interruption. Two persons rushed through the house and down into the melee, Asif by mutual consent the conflict was suspended, and the living com- batants paused and separated, glancing at the intruders, One of them was Edward Lansdown, whose \eyes were roving wildly around the room; the other was a tall, dark-com- lexioned person, dressed in man’s clothes, but he long floating hair, and form revealed by the disordered dress, proclaimed the wearer to be a woman, Her eyes fell upon the form of one of the outlaws, who was now resting upon his elbow, with the blood ebbing in jots from his breast, glaring at her through the eyelet-holes of his mask, She sprung forward and knelt beside him, while a low, agonized ery broke from her lips, and tore from his head the black hood, “Oh, Mas’r Jerome—dear Jerome, I didn’t think of this—I didn’t know you'd be here!” “Nettie! Oh, curse you—you’ve betrayed me! Take that, then!’ snarled Jerome Malle- ville, ashe thrust the muzzle of his revolver ria the breast of Nettie, the quadroon, and red, She never uttered a cry, but slowly sunk for- ward, and with her last dying breath pressed a soft gentle kiss upon the livid lips of her mur- derer; and then they lay there, the dead and the dying. Unnoting this, Edward’s eyes rested upon the erect form of the Masked Outlaw, who stood as if petrified, and the young settler made one step forward with outstretched arms. With a low, agonizing cry, the sable figure raised its pistol and fired. But the muzzle was directed toward itself, not the other. Fired, and slowly sunk down, murmuring: “* Edward—my love—forgive me!” ' He sprung forward and caught the dying one in his arms, and gently removed the mask, A murmur of horror ran through the room, as the pale, beautiful—still lovely, despite the death- agony—features were recognized by all—the features of Isabella Sherwood ! The mystery of the Masked Outlaw wasa mystery no longer. CHAPTER XVII. ALICE’S STORY. THE figure we noticed on the evening o? that fatal night was indeed none other than Alice Walker. And it was a hasty sketch of her ad- ventures that had caused the quick gathering of the Vigilance Committee, ending so fatally to the outlaw band, as detailed, Her story was as follows: On the evening of the day preceding that on which the thunderbolt fell, Alice had returned to the library after retiring, for some forgotten article, Being in her night-dress and hearing footsteps approaching, she hastily concealed her- self behind the heavy window-cortains, hoping there to escape observation. The door opened and Isabella and Jerome entered, seating them- selves side by side upon the sofa, and conversing in earnest tones. To her horror Alice learned fhat Malleville was no brother—that, in fact, he was Isabella’s husband, although they had been separated for several years. This was alluded to, as well as the cause of their parting. Then Isabella confessed her reasons for induc- ing Malleville to pass himself off as her brother, She had fallen fiercely, madly in love with the handsome, noble-hearted young settler, Edward Lansdown, and she bad resolved to win him. To this the man had consented, but upon one condition. If she would not consent to that condition, and assist him in every way she could, why he would denounce her as a married woman to Lansdown, and as the Masked Outlaw, to the entire settlement. This he would do, unless she would do her best to further his suit with Alice Walker, for whom he had conceived a violent passion. At this point of the dialogue, Alice felt her senses leave her, and with a low cry she sunk to the floor, fainting. When she recovered, she was confined in the second-story, back room, the one window of which was closely fastened and thickly padded. And here she was visited by Isabella, who soon extracted the confession of her baving heard all, and then she sternly told her she should never leave the room until she was the wife of Jerome Malleville, and Isabella had won Edward Lansdown. Then Isabella came the next day and told her how adroitly she had tricked the settlers by the trumped-up story of her abduction, while it was all a farce. She dwelt with malicious emphasis on the grief of the family; and thus it went on, day by day. She told her, too, of her becoming the betrothed bride of Edward Lans- down, adding that when they were once mar- ried, then Alice must succumb, by fair means or by foul: then she was safe. But we can not dwell upon the picture. It was at the time the settler was murdered, that Isabella had got shot, one of the buckshot striking her. To avoid having any witness who might tell unwelcome tales, Isabella had sent Nettie, the quadroon, to Leavenworth; but she had learned far more than her mistress im- agined, As usual, the woman-fiend told Alica that she was going to meet her band at Mother Moss’s house, and that same evening Alice man- aged to unfasten the window and descend to the garden, by means of a rope made from.her bed- clothing. The rest they knew. As the reader knows, ‘“‘ Alexander Dumas,” was none other than Nettie, and when Edward had gained access to ber he forced her to ac- knowledge the entire truth: that she had mailed the two letters, and that Alice was im- prisoned at_the Grable house, by Isabella Sher- wood and Jerome Malleville. She, too, told a fearful tale Teqarding her mistress, and it more than confirmed the taunts that Alice had over- heard, \ Isabella’s father died, and left her penniless, #
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Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk. 209 From one step she went to another, and one fine season she appeared at the watering-places as Mrs, Sherwood, the wife of a merchant prince, Mr. Sherwood made his will, and—died, To avoid the very troublesome hints that gradually gained credence, Isabella came out West, mado the acquaintance of a Colonel Jamison,” and was initiated by him into all the mysteries and fascinations of “ horse-dealing” and ‘* passing the queer,” One fine day he was suspended from bis duties —at the end of a rope—and she then emigrated to Kansas, with the wealth of the worthy colo- nel. Her daring mind then conceived the plan that afterward made her so famous as the ** Masked Outlaw ”—the ‘‘ Black Rider ”--and a dozen other names that are still remembered and alluded to in the country of her principal exploits, dward bad learned all this, and then forced Nettie to accompany him to the settlement un- der penalty of being handed over to the authori- ties at Leavenworth, and they arrived at the robbers’ rendezvous as detailed, Isabella Sherwood’s body was removed from the cabin, and decently interred in the shady woodland beside the sparkling, murmuring brook, that passed near her house, and a plain wooden cross marks the spot beneath which rests that once peerless form that concealed so dark and stained a spirit; a wrecked life. Nettie, Malleville and the remainder of the outlaws for whom no claim was made—for the majority were settlers who had been looked upon as honest, exemplary citizens, whose fami- lies resided near by—were buried in the woods, in unmarked graves; but the old settlers can still point out the spot, covered with vines and brambles, tangled and vicious; a fitting monu- ment for those whose dust rests beneath; and will narrate the events of that fearful night, in which perchance they had participated. Time rolled on, and the young settler began, day by day, to feel a deeper, more tender inter- est in the gentle, true-hearted Alice, until one day the truth came to him, and he knew that he loved her, They were married, and two years afterward moved into the fine old ‘Grable House” that Edward had bought. This, together with the furniture and farm, had been sold—to indem- nify, in part, the settlers who had lost so heavi- ly by the Masked Outlaw and her band, and then, the owner becoming dissatisfied, Edward purchased it as stated. At this place the young couple—middle-aged now, with a half-dozen little lads and little las- sies, who claim them as parents—still live. John Lansdown basa home with them, but good Mrs. Lansdown only lived long enough to kiss her first granchild. : THE END, BEADLE AND ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS Speakers. The Dime Speakers embrace twenty-five volumes viz.: 15. Komikal Speaker. 1. American Speaker. < 16. Youth’s Speaker, 2, National Speaker, 3. Patriotic Speaker. 17, Eloquent Speaker, 4. Comic Speaker. 18. Hail Columbia Speak- 5. Elocutionist. er. 6. Humorous Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker, %. Standard Speaker. 20. Select Speaker. 8. Stump Speaker. 21. Funny Speaker. 9, Juvenile Speaker. 22. Jolly Speaker. 10, Spread-Eagle Speaker | 28, Dialect Speaker. 11, Dime Debater. 2%. Recitations and Read- 12, Exhibition Speaker. ings. 13, School Speaker. 25. Burlesque Speaker 14. Ludicrous Speaker. These books are replete with choice pieces for the School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes, ete. 75 to 100 Declamations and Recitations in each book. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages, em- brace thirty-six books, viz.: Dialogues No. Nineteen, Dialogues No. Twenty. Dialogues No, Twenty-one. Dialogues No, Twenty-two. Dialogues No, Twenty-three, Dialogues No, Twenty-four, Dialogues No ‘Twenty-five. Dialogues No. Twenty-six. Dialogues No. Nine. DialoguesNo. Twenty-seven, Dialogues No, Ten. \Dialogues No. Twenty-eight, Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. TR ontrcaitases Dialogues No. Twelve. \Dialogues No. Thirty. Dialogues No. Thirteen, Dialogues No. Thirty-one, Dialogues No. Fourteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-two, Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-three, Dialogues No. Sixteen. Dialogues No, Thirty-four, Dialogues No.Seventeen Dialogues No. Thirty-five, Dialogues No, Wighteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-six. Dialogues No, One. Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No, Four. Dialogues No, Five. Diategues No. Six. Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues No. Wight. 15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book, Dramas and Readings. 164 12mo Pages. 20 Cents. For Schools, Parlors, Entertainments and the Am- ateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas, Comedy, Farce, Dress Pieces, Humorous Dialogue and Burlesque, by noted writers; and Recitations and Readings, new and standard, of the greatest celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof. A. M. Russel. Each volume contains 100 large pages, printed from clear, open type, comprising the best collec. tion of Dialogues, Dramas and Recitations, The above publications are for sale by all news- dealers or will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of price, ten cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PusrisHeurs, 98 WrintaM Street, N, Y,
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POE AT, ree BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY, wo 82 Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier. By E. 8. Ellis. 83 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief. By E. L. Wheeler. ; 84 The Dumb Page; or, The Doge’s Daughter. By Captaid Frederick Whittaker. 8 The Boy Miners; or, The Enchanted Island. By Edward §, Ellis. : 86 Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. The Hussar Captain; or, The Hermit of Hell Gate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 88 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty. By Edward L, Wheeler. 89 Lill Biddon, Tra Apes or, Life in the Northwest. ny Edward §. Ellis, : 90 Tippy, the Texan; or, The Young Champion. By George Gleason. 91 Mustang Sam, the King of the Plains. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 2 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, the Red Pirates of the Caribbees. By Samuel W. Pearce. 93 Phil Hardy; the Boss aan or, The Mystery of the Stronghold. By Charles Morris, 94 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. 95 Buck Buckram; or, Bess the Female Trapper. ref M5 pari J. F.C. Adams. 96 Gilt-Edged Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler. 97 The Black Steed of the Prairies. By James L. Bowen, 98 The Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe, By Juan Lewis. 99 Bonanza Bill, the Man Tracker; or, the Secret Twelve. By E. L. Wheeler. 100 Nat Todd; or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. By E. S. Ellis. 101 Daring per, the Young Bear Killer; or, The Trail of the Border Wolf. By Harry St. George, 102 The Yellow Chief; or, The Half-Blood’s Ven- eance, By Capt. Mayne Reid. 103 Chip, the Girl Sport. By Edward L. Wheeler. 104 The Black Schooner; or, Jib Junk, the Old Tar. By Roger Starbuck. i 105 Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. By Charles Morris. 106 Night-Hawk Kit; or, The Daughter of the Ranch. - _ By Joseph EB. Badger, Jr. 107 Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune. By Edward L, Wheeler. 108 Rocky Mountain Kit, the White Mustanger. By T. C. Harbaugh. 109 The Branded Hand; or, The Man of Mystery. BY Frank Dumont. 110 The Dread Rider; or, The Texan Duelist. By rge W. Browne. 111 Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks, By Edward L. Wheeler. 112 The Helpless Hand. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 113 Scar-Faced Saul, the Silent Hunter. By Oll Coomes. 114 Piney Paul, the Mountain Boy. By T. C. Har- ugh, 115 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gor- on’s Gulch, By Edward L. Wh: eler. 116 Sahes Coffin, a gage or, Lost in the Polar Regions. By a . Whittaker. N17 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trappers Trust. By “ Buffalo Bill.” 118 Will Wildfire, the Thoroughored; or, The Win- ning Hand. By Chas. Morris. 119 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base. By Edwari L. Wheeler. 120 oo Gid, the Boy Trapper. By T. C. Har- ugh, eo. 121 Harry Armstrong, the Captain of the Club. By Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway). 122 The Huuted Hunter; or, The Strange Horseman of the Prairie. By Edward §, Ellis. 133 Stine as the Boy Road-Agent. By Edward L. eeler 1% Judge Lynch, Jr.; or, The Boy Vigilante. By T. ©. Harbaugh, See ee ee eee eee ———eEE—————E——E———————————e—eE——eE—E—EeEeEeEeEeEEeE———E———e——————————e 1% The Land Pirates; or, The League of Devil's Island. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 126 Blue Blazes; or, The Break o’ Day Boys of Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. 127 Fae ane the Ferret; or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job. By Edward L. Wheeler. 128 Will Wildfire’s Racer; or, Winning Against Odds. By Charles Morris. 129 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes. 130 Gold Trigger, the Sport; or, The Girl Avengers. By T. C. Harbaugh. 131 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. 182 Dainty Lance, the Boy Sport. By Joseph F. Badger, Jr. 138 Wil ‘wei the Boss of the Road. By Frank Du. mont. 134 eke Beer: the Harbor Police Boy. By Chas. orris. 135 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. 136 Old Rube, the Hunter. By Capt. Hamilton Holmes. 187 Dandy Rock, the Man from Texas. By G. Waldo Browne. 138 Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. By Chas. Morris. 139 The Black Giant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 140 Captain Arizona, the King Pin of Road-Agents. by Philip 8. Warne. 141 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. 142 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. By Ol) Coomes. 143 Deadly Dash; or, Fighting Fire with Fire. By Jos, K. cetyl Jr. 144 Little Grit, the Wild Rider. By Col. Prentiss In- ingecem 145 The Tiger of Taos; or, Wild Kate, Dandy Rock's Angel. By Geo, Waldo Browne. 146 The Cattle King; or, Cortina’s Right Bower. By Frank Dumont. 147 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, the Scamps of the Sierras, oi Edward L. Wheeler, 148 Thunderbolt Tom; or, the Wolf-Herder of the Rockies. By Harry St. George. 149 | dd. the Bank Runner. By Charles Morris, 150 The Mad Miner; or, Dandy“Rock’s Doom, By G. Waldo Browne. 151 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Well Kept. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 152 ney. Darke; or, The Tigers of High Pine. By . H, Eyster. 158 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo. By E. L. Wheeler. 154 The oe Trailers; or, Dainty Lance on the War- Path. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 155 Gold Plume, the Boy Bandit. By Col. Prentiss iigrehen. 156 Will Wildfire in the Woods. By C. Morris. 157 Ned Temple, the Border Boy., By T. C. Har- baugh. 158 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane's Last Adventure. By E. L. Wheeler. 159 Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat; or, The Lady Road-Agent. By Philip 8. Warne. 160 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker; or, The Doomed Thirteen, By Col. P. Ingraham. 161 Bob Rockett, the Cracksman. By C. Morris. 162 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. By Oll Coomes. 163 Deadwood Dick's Dream; or, the Rivals of the Road. By E. L. Wheeler. 164 Tornado ‘om; or, Injun Jack from Red Core, By T. C. Harbaugh, 165 Buffalo Bill’s Bet; or, The Gambler Guide. By Col. P. Ingraham. 166 Will Wildfire Wins and Loses; or, “A Trinp Card,”’_ By Charles Morris. 167 Dandy Rock's Pledge; or, Hunted to Death, sy George W. Browne.
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BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY. 168 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jezebel. By Edward L. Wheeler, 169 The Boy Champion. By Edward Willett. 170 Bob Rockett’s Ficht for Life; or, Shadowed in New York. By Charles Morris. 171 Frank Morton, the Boy Hercules, By Oll Coomes, 172 The Yankee Ranger; or, Dusky Darrell. By Edwin Emerson. 173 Dick Dingle, Scout; or, The Frontier Angel. By Edward §, Ellis. 174 Dandy Rock's Scheme; or, The Golden Hand. By G. W. Browne, 175 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sh By Edward L. Wheeler, ; At Bit 176 Will Wildfire’s Pluck; or, The Hidden Hand. By Charles Morris. 177 The Boy Commander; or, The Maid of Perth. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 178 The Maniac Hunter; or, The Mysteries of Night Island. By Burton Saxe, 179 Dainty Lance; or, The Mystic Marksman, B: J.E, Badger, Jr. j if 180 The Boy Gold-Hunter; or, Navajo Nick’s Scout. By T. C, Harbaugh. 181 The Scapegrace Son, By Charles Morris, 182 The Dark-Skinned Scout; or, The Freebooters of the Mississippi. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine, 183 Jabez Dart, Detective; or, The Hermit Trapper. By Oll Coomes. 184 Lt aac the Boy Spy. By Edward Wil- ett. 185 Bison Bill, the Overland Prince. By Col. Pren- tiss Ingraham, 186 Dainty Lance and His Pard. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 187 The Trapped Tiger King; or, Dark Paul’s Plot, By Charles Morris, 188 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues. By Edward L. Wheeler. 189 Old Rocky’s Boys; or, Bonito, the Young Mus- tang-Breaker, By Maj. Sam, S, Hall. 190 Sim Simpkins, Scout; or, The Faithful Mountain Mastiff. By James L, Bowen. 191 Dandy Rock's Rival; or, The Mysterious Wolf Rider. By Geo, Waldo Browne, 192 Hickory Harry; or, Roaring Ralph, the Ventrilo- quist. By Harry St. George. 198 Detective Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator's Game. By Edward L. Wheeler. 294 Prospect Pete, the Boy Miner. By Oll Coomes. 195 The Tenderfoot Trailer: or, Plucky Phil, of the Mountain, By T. C. Harbaugh. 196 The Dandy Detective; or, The Abducted Boy Mystery. By Charles Morris. 19% Roy, the be Cattle King; or, The Texan Sport Unmasked. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 198 Ebony Dan’s Mask; or, The Rival Leagues of the Mines. By Frank Dumont. 199 Dictionary Nat, Detective; or, Bill Bravo, the _ Bear Tanier. By T. . Harbaugh. : 200 The Twin Horsemen; or, The Brothers of the Plumed Lance, By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, 201 Dandy Darke’s Pards; or, The Hawks of High Pine. By Wm. R. Eyster, 202 Tom, the Texan Tiger; or, Old Luke's Luck, By Oll Coomes, 208 Sam, the Office Boy; or, The Tables Turned, By Charles Morris. 204 The Young Cowboy; or, The Girl Trailer’s Tri- umph. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 205 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Schema By E, L. Wheeler. 206 White Lightning; or, the Boy Ally. By T. 2. Harbaugh, 207 Kentuck Talbot’s Band; or, The Red Lasso, By Captain Mark Wilton, 208 Trapper Tom’s Castle Mystery; or, Dashing Dick’s Disguise. By Oll Coomes, Se 209 The Messenger-Boy Detective; or, The Tabies Turned, By Charles Morris. 210 The Hunchback of the Mines; or, Recktess Ralph, the Road-Agent. By Jos, E, Badger, Jr. 211 Little Giant and His Band; or Despard, the Duelist, By P. S. Warne. 212 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado, By E. L. Wheeler, 213 The Pirate’s Prize; or, The Mysterious Yankeo Schooner, By C. Dunning Clark. 214 Dandy Dave, of Shasta; or, The ’Frisco Flash o’ Lightning. By T. 0. Harbaugh. 215 Daring Dan, the Ranger; or, The Denver Detec- tive. By Oll Coomes, 216 The Cowboy Captain; or, Ranger Ralph’s Ruin, By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 217 Bald Head of the Rockies; or, The Ang’l of the Range. By Major Sam 8. Hall. 218 The Miner age or, Sugar-Coated Sam’s Claim, By Edward L. Wheeler. 219 Buck, the Detective; or, Paul, the Boy Pard. By Albert W. Aiken. 220 Crack-Shot Frank; or, Bill Bounce, the Moun- tain Bravo. By Charles Morris. 221 Merle the Middy: or, A Waif of the Waves. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 222 Rosebud Ben’s Boys; or, The Young Prairie Rangers. By Oll Coomes, 223 Gold Conrad’s Watch-Dogs; or, The Two Pards of Vulture Bar. By T. C. Harbeugh, 2% Frisky Fe:gus, the New York Boy. By GL. Aiken, 225 Dick Drew, the Miner's Son;_or, Apollo Bill, the Road-Agent. By Edward L. Wheeler. 226 Dakota Dick in Chicago; or, Jack, the Old Tar, By Charles Morris. 227 Merle, the Boy Cruiser; or, Brandt, the Buc- eaneer. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 228 The Preacher Detective; or, The Boy Ventrilo- quist, By Oll Coomes. 229 Old Hickory’s Grit. By John J, Marshall. 230 The Three Boy rts; or, The Sword Hunters. By Captain Troterick Whittaker,
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BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY, 281 Sierra Sam, the Detective. Wheeler. 282 Merle Monte’s Treasure; or, Buccaneer Brandt’s Threat. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 233 Rocky Rover Kit; or, Davy Crockett’s Crooked Trail. By Ensign C. D. Warren. 234 Baldy, the Miner Chief. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 235 Jack Stump’s Cruise; or, The Montpelier’s Muti- neers. By Roger Starbuck. 236 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female De- tectives. By Kd. L. Wheeler, ‘ 237 Newsboy Ned, Detective; or, Two Philadelphia Gamins. By Charles Morris. 288 Merle Monte’s Sea-Scraper; or, Little Belt’s Droll Disguise. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 239 Ben’s Big’ Boom; or, The Boss Miner's League. By Capt. Mark Wilton. 240 Sharp Shot Mike; or, Columbia Jim on the War- Path. By Oll Coomes. 241 Sierra Sam’s Sentence: or, Little Luck at Rough Ranch, By Edward L, Wheeler. 242 The Denver Detective; or, Dainty Dot at Gold Gulch, By T. C. Harbaugh. 243 Dutch San’s Dilemma; or, The Mysterious Mountain Monster. By Maj. L. W. Carson, 244 Merle Monte’s Disguise; or, The Capture of Brandt, the Buccaneer. By Col, P. Ingraham. 245 Baldy’s Boy Partner; or, Young Brainerd’s Steam Man. By Edward S. Ellis. 246 Detective Keen’s Apprentice: or, James Jumper the New York Gamin. By Charles Morris, 247 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise. Edward L, Wheeler. 248 Giant George’s Pard; or, Arizona Jack, the Tenderfoot. By Buckskin Sam. 249 Ranch Rob's Wild Ride; or, Old Winch The Rifle King. By T. C. Harbaugh. 250 Merle Monte’s Pardon; or, The Pirate Chief's Doom. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 251 The Deaf Detective; or, Weasel, the Boy Tramp. By Edward Willett. 252 Denver Doll’s Device; or, The Detective Queen. By Edward L. Wheeler. 258 The Boy Tenderfoot; or, Roaring Ben Bundy of Colorado, By Capt. Mark Wilton. 254 Black Hills Ben; or, Dutch Jan on the War- Path. By Maj. Lewis W. Carson. 255 Jolly Jim, Detective; or, The Young Protege’s Victory. By Charles Morris. 256 Merle Monte’s Last Cruise; or, The Sea Robber at Bay. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 257 The Boy Chief of Rocky Pass; or, The Young California Pards. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain. 258 Denver Doll as Detective. By E, L. Wheeler. 259 Little Foxeye, the Colorado Spy. By Ol Coomes. 260 Skit, the Cabin Boy. By Edward Willett, 261 Blade, the Sport, or, the Giant of Clear Grit Camp. By T. C. Harbaugh. 262 a Boy Rover; or, Terror Tom of Texas. By Col. P. Ingraham, 263 Buster Bob’s Buoy; or, Lige, the Light-House Keeper. By Capt. J. F. C, Adams. 264 Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big Buckskin the Sport, By E. L. Wheeler. 265 Billy, the Baggage Boy; or, The Young Railroad Detective. By Charles Morris. f 266 Guy’s Boy Chum; or, The Forest Waif’s Mask. By Capt. Comstock, By Edward L. By 267 Giant George’s Revenge; or, The Boys of * Slip- up Mine.” By Buckskin Sam, 268 The Dead Shot Dandy; or, The Rio Grande Marauders, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 269 The Quartzville Boss; or, Daring David Darke. By Edward Willett, 270 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill's Big Loss, By E. L. Wheeler. Sea Jim’s Terror; or, Ranger Rainbolt’s Ruse By Oll Coomes. Kit, the Girl Detective; or, Dandy Dash in Cali fornia, By T. C. Harbaugh. 3 The Girl Rider; or, Nimble Ned’s Surprise, Jos. E. Badger, Jr. ‘4 Dead Shot Dandy’s Double; or, Benito, the Boy Pard. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Fred, the Ocean Waif; or, The Old Sailor's Protege. By Charles Morris. Deadwood Dick Trapped; or, Roxey Ralph’s Ruse. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Idiot i 4 Avenger; or, Captain Wild-Cat’s Big Game. By Albert W. Aiken. Arizona Alf, the Miner; or, Little Snap Shot's Luck. By T. C. Harbaugh. Yolorado Jack, the Tiger; or, The Ghost of the Trailer. By Frederick Dewey. Dead Shot Dandy’s Last Deal; or, Keno Kit’s New Role. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Ned, the Boy Pilot; or, The Pirate Lieutenant's Doom. By Jack Farragut. Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The Messenger Boy’s Fortune. By Edward L. Wheeler. Roving Sport Kit; or, The Ghost of Chuckaluck Camp. By Edward Willett. The Showman’s Best Card; or, The Mad Animal Tamer. By Capt. Fred, Whittaker. Old Rocky’s Pard; or, Little Ben’s Chase. By Buckskin Sam. 286 Dick; the Dakota Sport, By Charles Morris, 287 Ned, the Boy Skipper; or, The Sea Sorceress Cruise. By Jack Farragut. 288 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport. By Edward L. Wheeler. 289 Colorado Nick, the Lassoist; or, Old Si’s Protege. By Major H. B, Stoddard, 200 Rube, the Tenderfoot; or, The Boy’s of Torpedo Gulch. By Major E. L. St. Vrain: 201 Peacock Pete, the Leadville Sport: or, Hawk, the Boss Miner. By Albert W. Aiken. 202 Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk; or, The Black Rider, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 298 Dwarf Jake. the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon's Man Hunt. By Edward Willett. Ready August 21. 204 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Ready August 28. By 7 Brapue’s Pocker Liprary is for sale by all News- dealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on re- ceipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND Apams, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York,