Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 406) (1891 10 21)

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in a iris ea ar Copyrighted, 1891, by Brapum anv Apama, N 0 406 82.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and gdama, Price, Wl XXL a Year. No. 98 WILLIAM St, NEW YORK. Five Centa. GIANT PETE AND HIS PARDS. BY T. C. HARBAUGH. i —(Ii I~ CE A fl ity | — A y/ \ / {, te AM) HAM if Mil ‘NR is TRAPPER TOM LOOKED AT THE DEAD SIOUX A FULL MINUTE WITHOUT REPLYING TO OLD TOMAHAWE’S QUESTION, ,

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Giant Pete and His Pards; TRAPPER TOM, THE Woop IMP. 1 ng ©, HARBAUGH. CHAPTER I. DEFENDING HIS RIGHTS, On the bank of a well-wooded stream which, rising among the hills of northwestern Wy- oming, flows north, and at last loses itself in the majestic Yellowstone, rose a small cabin, built of rough logs, well chinked, and capable of affording both protection and shelter. It was too small to accommodate a settler’s family of any size, and then it was too far re- moved from a settlement of any pretensions to convey the belief that some fearless tiller of the soil had brought wife and little ones to that spot, ' Pre stood in the land of the buffalo, the ante- lope and the grizzly, and its wild but pictur- esque surroundings suggested stirring scenesand perilous times for its people. f the young reader had reached this ad- vanced cabin at sundown, on a certain April day, he would have been grested by its sole pos- sessor and inhabitant. This individual, almost a pigmy—for he was a boy in years and siza—mated well in dress the region by which he was surrounded, Clad as he was in garments formed from the skins of wild animals, and no doubt shaped by his own hands, he looked like a boy Kit Carson, who, breaking from the restraints of home, had resolved for a while to try the wild life of a young lord of the wilderness, The eyes of the boy were black, bus moreover possessed of a merry twinkle. His face was handsome, well rounded and ruddy, the work of good food, exercise and the healthful winds of the great Northwest. His figure was well built, shapely in every respect, and he stood but five feet in the serviceable moccasins that covered his feet. Behind him rose the cabin, and leaning ainst it at his right hand was a trusty rifle, which was, without doubt, the boy’s best friend. When the last beams of the setting sun had disappeared the youth turned slowly toward the west in which direction he gazed for some time without speaking. “Til try it again,” he suddenly exclaimed as he turned into the cabin as if anxious to carry out a certain project. ‘I’m going to discover who has been tampering with my traps, Night after night they are visited, and good pelts con tinually disappear. I will not stand it, even though I am on Sioux ground. The game doesn’t belong to the Indian, and I have rights here which even he must respect.” The boy reappeared at the door of the hut as be uttered the last word, SS er we Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp, He carried across one shoulder now a stout stick from which bung three good beaver-traps, and having closed the cabin door behind bim, he picked up the rifle and hurried ofi towarce ’ the stream, , A few steps brought him to the crystal-like waters of the little tributary, and he was soon following them in their course to the north. The shadows lengthened until the whole face of the country seemed in eclipse, but the boy trapper pursued his way. i At last he came to what appeared to be an in- land bayou above whose surface rose a number of queer-looking elevations which were beaver- houses. The boy was in the midst of good beaver ter- ritory, and after surveying as much of the scene as was observable, he unloaded his traps and proceeded to set them. = His movements indicated that it was not his first visit to the place, Several times before he had set his traps on good beaver-trails only to discover that some sneaking villain had visited them before him and deftly abstracted their victims, For some days prior to the op»ning of our story tbe boy was repeatedly robbed, Never before had this thing happened to him. He was inclined to think that Indians bad dis- covered his traps and robbed them of their game, Indians} The thought was not a pleasant one for the young trapper who had dared to set bis traps on the verge of the great trapping-ground claimed and frequented by the Sioux at whoze bead as chief stood the renowned and blood- thirsty Sitting Bull. “'m here for pleasure and gain!” he said, firmly compressing his lips. ‘No Indian shall drive me from this region!” Brave words these were, and words of which he was likely to be ig Let us return to bim. Not a breath of air, nor the movements of a beaver rippled the calm surface of the little bayou while the Wood Imp adjusted the traps. “There!” he exclaimed, in a whisper, as he stepped back. “ The traps are ready for beaver, and [ am prepared for the thief, whoever heis.” Gliding back from the bank to a tree whose lower branches could be reached from the ground, he nimbly drew his lithe figure up among them, and seated himself on a limb where it joined the body of the tree, and await- ed results, Slowly the night came ov with the little trap- per evsconced in the tree with eyes and ears on the alert. When the day had fairly disappeared a watery moon came out and kept the boy’s surroundings visible, although indistinctly. He saw the beaver-houses in the bayou and the spot where the land and water met. He watched the places where he had deposit- ed his traps with jealous eye. ** Why doesn’t the red thief come?” he asked himself with eagerness, ‘I am more than ready to meet him. I will show him what it is to steal from Trapper Tom,” His patience seemed in no hurry to be reward-

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ed, for the night grew into long watches, and Trapper Tom, as the Wood Imp called himself, was compelled to nurse his restlessness as best he could, All at once he started and leaned forward. Had his sharp ears caught the footsteps of the beaver-tbief? No, there was a commotion at the edge of the water, and Trapper Tom knew that one of the traps had secured its victim, Instantly several splashes sounded in as many directions, as the beaver, alarmed by the catas- trophe which had befallen one of their number, sought the houses scattered over the bayou, and a few moments later the silence of death brood- ed over the scene, A satisfied smile overspread the face of the ye “The trap has caught a beaver, now I will catch the thief,” He had heard another sound which he knew was not made by the entrapped animal, and his eyes had caught sight of a figure gliding toward ae successful trap with the stealth of the pan- er. “*That’s the rascal!” grated Trapper Tom, as he gazed at the prowler with a pair of eyes that fairly flashed. ‘‘ Want my beaver, do you?” he wenton, ‘ Well, my pesky red-skin, I may at- tempt to keep my property.” He saw the pelt-thief pass within a few feet of his perch, and all at once he lowered himself from the limb and dropped to the ground with- out noise. In another moment he had thrown bimself fearlessly on the trail of the sneak-thief, who, intent only on obtaining the game already scented, did not look once behind him. Nearer and nearer to the night prowler crept Trapper Tom whose eyes glistened more and more as he advanced, He saw the trap-despoiler stoop over the ani- mal which, drawn beneath the waters in its frantic struggles for freedom,had been drowned. Sudden! fice an eagle that fall upon its vic- tim the Wood Imp swooped upon him, “That's my beaver!” If a fiery rocket had shot suddenly from the water, the would-be thief would not have leaped up in greater consternation. He almost tumbled into the bayou in bis effort to face the person who had spoken and Trapper Tom was not less astonished. “Your beaver?’ exclaimed the prowler in an but rough-voiced English. “Great Je- osaphat! atom, whar did you hail from?” Trapper Tom stared at the speaker, who, to his astonishment, was not an Indian but a tall, lank and vagabondish specimen of a white man! For two minutes at least after the lank fel- low’s question there was no response. Ter Tom was surveying the detected thief from head to foot, not only mad, but dis- gusted. He had expected, even hoped, to catch a red- skin; butinstead, he had unmasked a white ras- cal—one of those forest vagabonds who are too mean to attempt an honest livelihood. ‘* Who are you, anyhow?!” suddenly asked the man. ‘Don’t think I ever had the pleasure ov Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. 3 yer acquaintance before. Are you the owner ov the shanty back thar on the creek?” The nonchalance and impudence of the man were insulting, “Yes, sir!” said the boy. ‘That cabin is mine, The beaver you bave already taken be- longed to me and my name is Trapper Tom.” , “Glad to bear it, I am,” was the answer. “Trapper Tom, eh? Not much bigger than a minute. Say, I could eat you up.” The stature of the little trapper seemed to in- crease an inch at this boust, and his eyes said “Try it, sir,” in language not to be mistaken. ‘““Who are you?’ he asked. “It must be true as you have said that we have met for the first time,” ‘“Me? I’m Old Tomahawk.” And the speak- er showed his teeth in a grin. ‘* Look here, my little chap. When I want a thing I generally take it,” “Tf it belongs to you.” “Sometimes if it doesn’t. Didn’t you bint awhile ago that I war about to take yer bea- ver?” **T did.” “Don’t be too fast, I want something besides beaver just now. Scalps!” “There’s only one here and that’s mine,” laughed Trapper Tom. “ Are ye sure ov thet?” “No; there’s yours,” “Which makes two. But thar’s more than two, How long bev you lived here?” ‘* Five months,” * And seen no Injuns?” ‘“No. I’ve bad this paradise all to myself.” ‘* Hev, eh? Whar hev yer eyes been? Come this sway, greeny. Old Tomahawk ’ll show you, Before Trapper Tom could resist he was be- ing dragged from the spot, with his arm en- cireled by Old Tomahawk’s skeleton band, Down the edge of the bayon he was dragged, then along the sluggish stream that fed it to its junction with a larger tributary of the Yellow- stone. At the foot of a rather steep bank Old Toma- hawk stopped and dropped the boy trapper’s m, ‘Look thar!’ he said, pointing toward the ground, Trapper Tom gazed fora moment and then recoiled with a cry. On the ground lay a dead Indian, freshly scalped! ‘ “No Injuns here, you say, eb?’ grinned Old Tomahawk, ‘‘ What do you think now ?” CHAPTER Il. IN A TERRIBLE PREDICAMENT. TRAPPER Tom louked at the dead Sioux a full minute without replying to Old Tomahawk’s question. ‘* Lived bere five months without seein’ a red- skin? Great Jehosaphat! Trapper Tom, whar hev yer peepers been all the time?’ “ Where they are at this minute—in my head,” was the answer, ‘©f doubt that,” remarked Old Tomahawk, ° ee te le “See here, to be plain, I kille that red-skin not an hour ago, I’m not in these ae Sere te Te oe es 3. <i Ce te

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OT a as Te —-= parts fer beaver, but ferscalps. I’m on a big Injun-hunt, and it’s queer that my trail should hey led me here whar you hev’n’t seen a red- skin in five months!” “There!” said Trapper Tom, irritated by Old Tomabawk’s wordsand manner. ‘If there had been Indians in these parts they haven’t molest- ed me.” ‘¢That’s no sign they don’t intend ter,” was the uick response. ‘If you'll go back to yer cabin }) tell you something.” Trapper Tom seemed to hesitate, What! take that dark-faced fellow to his cabin stocked with the valuable results of trail and trap? He remembered that he had caught Old Toma- hawk in the act of lifting a beaver from his trap, and now the disreputable character had coolly asked to be conducted to the cabin stored with pelts, which, to the boy, were a snug little fortune. it is no wonder that the Wood Imp hesitated. ‘* 1 see!” exclaimed Old Tomahawk, ‘‘ You’ve got something under yer shanty roof you don’t want this forest pilgrim ter examine. You seem ter believe yet that I war goin’ ter lift a beaver awhile ago. ’Pon honor, boy, I war’n’t, Thold up my hand and say thet, though Old Tomahawk ain’t ez pure ez a baby, he never touched a white man’s trap ter rob it. What war I doin at yer trap when you caught me thar, eh? I war goin’ ter see what war in it, nothing more. Ef you want the thief who has been visitin’ yer traps night arter night, behold him thar, I took his scalp a while ago, an’ when lI overtook him he war goin’ back fer another beaver. I’m hard, an’ not pretty. I’m bony an’ profane; but by Jehosaphat! Trapper Tom, Old Tomahawk don’t steal! There was in the force of the forest vaga- bond’s asseverations something that favorably impressed the boy trapper. “T don’t care,” Old Tomahawk went on. ‘If you don’t want to hear anything, don’t show me yer shanty, You're the master ov yer own fortunes, an’ mebbe you don’t want to know how safe yer pelts are.” These words decided Trapper Tom. “Pardon me for doubting you,” he said. ‘We will go to the hut. Aren’t you afraid to let the Indian lie here?” “ Reckon not. I guess he'll disturb nobody.” Very well, To my c bin, then,” When Trapper Tom turned on his heel and started off at a brisk gait, he was followed by his new and not prepossessing acquaintance, whose eyes betrayed the eagerness that seemed to fill bis heart. But few words were exchanged by the strange pair as they pushed through the forest. Trapper Tom still in the lead, for, though Old Toma- hawk’s strides were lengthier than his, he could not keep up with the boy. ‘Here we are!” Trapper Tom threw open the door of his forest home as the announcement left his lips, and turning on Old Tomahawk he presented a look of pride. The interior of the cabin was quite dark, but the little trapper soon produced a light, which Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. illuminated the room, and dissipated the shadows of log and beam. Old Tomahawk surveyed the interior of the place with a good deal of wonderment. ‘““Who helped you build this shanty?” he asked, “TJ didn’t build it. came,” “a No ” “That is the truth.” “ An’ it war empty?” “i Yes.” “You found nothin’ in it?” * Nothing.” “ Not a bide?” “Tt was stripped as clean as a gang of wolves strips a buffalo carcass,” ““Tbet’s kinder queer,” mused Old Toma- hawk aloud. “Say, boy, see here. You didn’t find a wooden stake in one corner ov the shanty?’ Trapper Tom gave the man a singular look. **T found no stake,” he said. ‘* Are you Jook- ing for a cabin with a wooden stake in one of its corners?” Old Tomahawk started perceptibly. “N—no,” he stammered. ‘The inquiry hap- pened ter getinto my head an’ I let it out— thet’s all, boy.” And despite his words, the old fellow’s eyes wandered to the several cor- ners of the cabin. A moment later he leaned against the rough logs that formed one of the walls of the rs0om and folded his long arms upon his chest. “Trapper Tom, thar ar’ more Injuns thau beaver in this kentry,” he began. “I don’t keer ef you’ve been here five years instead ov five months, Thet fact doesn’t make one Injun less. How many pelts hev you?” That was a bold question, The boy had already obtained proof of Old Tomahawk’s inquisitiveness, but here was an interrogative that affected his property—that wealth for which he had toiled for five long months, “You needn’t tell me ef you don’t want to,” continued Old Tomahawk. ‘I don’t look very honest—thet’s a fact; but mebbe it isn’t alto- gether my fault. I war goin’ ter say thet whether you’ve got one beaver-pelt er a thou- sand they’re not safe here.” Trapper Tom started. “T wouldn’t be surprised ef yer pelts hev already been invoiced by a lot ov red devils who know their value, I know what I’m tallc- in’ about. Trapper Tom, sometimes them In- juns will let a feller go ov an’ get a good lot ov skins, then, all at once, they’ll pounce down upon him an’ take ’em all.” These were plain words and easily under- stood. The Wood Imp did not reply” “One week ago I war listenin’ behind an In- jun ledge in a Sioux village thet holds thar meanest lot ov red tigers thet ever lived under a scarlet bide. I wartbar on business. I heard them Injuns talk about a youngster what bed Jaid in a stock ov prime beaver an’ other pelts an’ they laughed when they talked about the amount ov fire-water them same pelts would purchase, The next day twenty young bucks It was here when I

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ot away from thet same Injun town. What o you think took ’em out?” ‘My treasure!” Old Tomahawk’s eyes twinkled. ‘Are you sure you still own them hides?” he asked, Trapper Tom’s reply was a bound toward a roughly-fashioned ladder whose upper end was lost to view among the shadows overhead, Placing one foot on the lower round be went up with the agility of a sailor, and Old Toma- hawk saw him disappear beyond a dark open- ing which was nothing less than a passagewa to a garret, the storehouse of the little trapper’s treasure, Of course it was dark where the skins were stored, too dark to let Trapper Tom’s eyes be of any service to him, and he stood for a moment with his moccasins on the top round of the ladder, All at once the anxious man below saw him descend. The boy came down the ladder with more than usu.l rapidity, and, as be landed on the ground, be wheeled upon Old Tomahawk and prcsented a face that almost drove the Indian cunter forward, The next instant the boy stood before the gaunt trailer, “My skins are there yet, Tomahawk,” said Trapper Tom, in a cautious whisper. ‘ But, my God! they are weighted down with In- juns!” It was a brief report of a terrible discovery. For a second Old Tomahawk seemed stunned. Then he sprung forward and swung to the heavy door, placing in its proper place the stout oak barricade. “Thor ar’ Injucs outside, too, boy!” he said, hoarsely, CHAPTER III. MORE THAN HIS MATCH, Rep skyns in the loft overhead, and red-skins just teyond the cabin door. Is if a wonder that Trapper Tom looked into Old Tomahawk’s eyes for a full minute after the last announcement and did not articulate a single syllable? e had been permitted to trap five months in peace, and no red-skin had come to frighten him from bis trapping-ground. He had accumulated a large quantity of the most valuable pelts, and was looking forward to the time when he could astonish the managers of the nearest trading-post with the results of his winter with his traps. But now be had made a discovery terrible enough to blanch the cheeks of the bravest trapper. is pelts had heen found by the wily Indian; a lot of the red fiends were actually lying upon them, and Old Tomabawk had just declared that there were others nround the cabin. “‘Injuns on yer pelts, eh?” said the gaunt trailer, hard upon bis startling announcement, and before Trapper Tom could speak. ‘ Wal, ef this ain’t a pickle, I’m no judge. Isaw one feller, bigger than a grizzly, sneakin’ outside thar when I sbut the door, How many ar’ in’ on ther skins?” Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. 5 ‘*T didn’t stop to count them,” answered the little trapper. ‘‘I touched the moccasin of one, and beard others; that was enough.” “They war waitin’ for you to come back, but they didn’t expect me to come along,” and Old Tomahawk smiled, ‘No, my dandy, since we're in the brine an’ pretty well pickled, we've got to get out.” Yes,” said the Wood Imp, resolutely. “Those skins up there are as precious « my own, almost. The red skins sball not carry one away. I haven’t trapped all winter to buy a lot of dirty Sioux a few gallons of fire water. I propose to defend my property to the last extremity.” , “ And I'll help you, Trapper Tom!” cried Old Tomahawk as he strode forward and seized the boy’s band. “Them Injuns up in the loft keep mighty still; they don’t know that you discovered them.” “‘T merely touched the moccasin, but I knew, all the same, that it covered an Indian’s foot. Hark!” Trapper Tom sprung to the door as he utter- ed the exclamation and listened for a moment with one ear at the portal, but with his face turned toward the gaunt trailer, Suddenly the door was struck as with a clinched hand by some one outside. “Hello, thar!” said a voice. open your door to a white man?” The next instant Old Tomahawk stood at the boy’s side, ‘* A white man?” he echoed in tones intended only for Trapper Tom’s ears. “Tt pears to me that I ought to know that voice. If iv’s the man I think it is he’s meaner than the meanest Injun that ever breathed. Tell him he can’t come in now, boy.” Trapper Tom was only too eager to inform the speaker that to himand all men of his class the cabin was barred, and his eyes twinkled madly as he spoke. “My house is shut to you and the Sioux,” he said in firm tones, ‘ Every man’s cabin is his castle,” His reply was answered by a_ prolonged whistle, and then by « coarse, disdainful “Don’t you baht “Mighty smart you are, my little beaver- catcher,” cried the man at the door. ‘So you don’t open your door to Mountain Pete?” ‘*T do not.” A minute’s silence followed, ‘He isn’t afraid to speak his name,” whisper- ed Old Tomahawk. ‘“ He’s bigger than two common men an’ stout as an ox. He’s got an Injun wife an’ Sittin’ Bull made him a chief last summer. Mountain Pete, eh? | know him; but be doesn’t know thet Old Tomahawk is nigh.” ‘* He’s probably the leader of the Indians who have made a descent upon me,” replied Trapper Tom.” \ “He helped to advise ’em; that’s certain. But the greasersin the loft, boy? Suthin’s got to be done with that party. Ill poke my nose into the darkness up thar, an’ see what I can ” Old Tomahawk stepped to the ladder leading | : j ae o

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— to the store-house of the pelts and began to as- cend, “Let me git my fingers on a moccasin!” he said half audibly to himself, ‘I’m itchin’ to close on an Injan ankle. The boy don’t more than half trust me, an’ I don’t wonder at it, seein’ whar he caught me to-night, an’ judgin’ from my beauty.” The old fellow by this time had reached the top of the ladder, and a part of his lank figure had disappeared beyond the opening. With bated breath and anxious face the boy trapper watched them from below. At once Old Tomahawk’s hand began to search the darkness that reigned in the garret. “ Whar’s that Injun moccasin Trapper Tom says he felt?” he asked himself. ‘‘I guess the boy war— No! he war not mistaken. I’ve tackled it!” The next second the Indian hunter was pull- ing away at an ankle which his skeleton hand had suddenly encircled, and, despite the In- dian’s struggles, he was drawing him surely to- ward him. “Thar’s a foot in thet moccasin, sure enough!” he called down to Trapper Tom. “I’ve caught a daisy in the trap that never lets up ona victim, Here he comes! Look out for a red jumper!” As he Enished he drew the red-skin to the opening, and Trapper Tom who had sprung to the foot of the ladder sprung back at sight of the red enemy in Old Tomahawk’s grasp. The Indian was a lusty Sioux buck who had not yet won his eagle feathers, but he was not too young to make one of a thieving party whose goal was the store-house of a lot of valuable skins. “ He’s about yer size, so I’ll toss him down to you!” continued Old Tomahawk to the little trapper. ‘I like to tackle somebody of my size, Look out! Here he comes!” Before Trapper Tom could prepare to meet the Indian youth, he was tumbling head over heels down the ladder, and he landed on the ground so suddenly that the boy involuntarily retreated. If the Indian was not Old Tomahawk’s equal he was more than the boy’s; but what Trap- per Tom lacked in physique he more than made up in courage. The Sioux had scarcely touched the ground before he was on his feet apparently unhurt by his swift descent from above, and ready for a combat of any kind. “Fight if out, you two!” cried Old Toma- hawk. ‘I’m goin’ to see how many more’s up here,” and his feet disappeared from the ladder. Trapper Tom had no time for stratagem. The young Sioux whose eyes flashed like mad stars appeared like a panther ready for the spring. Scarcely eight feet separated the two youths, and an agile bound would easily clear that in- terval. - “White trapper_die!” suddenly roared the Indian. “ Young Eagle take his scalp back to big village!” “Tf you ean!” shot Trapper Tom defiantly. as with hastily-drawn knife he braced bimself to meet the onset as best he could, Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp, The last word was still on his lips when the Indian made the leap. For a second the figure of Young Eagle seemed to remain in mid-air and then the twain, knife-armed, came together! Tt was a collision that carried both almost. to the door at Trapper Tom’s back, and with dif- ficulty they were enabled to keep their feet. The Wood Imp aimed a blow at the Indian’s naked breast, but a red arm parried it just in time to save its owner’s life, and the next mo- ment the combatants went to the ground. It was Young Eagle’s strength that brought about the fall; physically, he was more than a match for Trapper Tom; but the latter’s pluck stood him in good need when he found bimself the under dog in the fight on the cabin floor, The Sioux was determined to put a speedy end to the combat and would have done so if the boy trapper had not slipped out from un- der him like an eel and broke from his grasp, The Indian sprung up with an exclamation of rage and dashed immediately at the little bah a st ‘* Boy’s scalp gone now!” he hissed, Trapper Tom had but a second in which to meet the impetuous attack. The rough wall of the apartment was at his back and he could not retreat an inch further, It was the most perilous moment in his ca- reer, Quick as a flash he threw up his knife arm, and as the young Sioux descended upon him like a thunderbolt he struck with all his might, This time there was a ery of pain and the knife fell from the Sioux’s hand as he reeled to- ward the ladder half-way down which wus the Sane of Old Tomahawk, a spectator to the ght. Trapper Tom did not follow up his success, but stood where he bad dealt the blow and gazed at the Indian. **T guess Pll keep my scalp!” he said in tones of triumph. “Tl keep my pelts too, Old Tomahawk.” ‘* Look out, boy. He’s goin’ to make his last dash!” The warning was not spoken a moment too soon, The wounded red-skin darted forward like an arrow suddenly discharged from a Sioux bow, but not at Trapper Tom. He passed him out of arm’s length, and was at the door before the boy trapper could com- prehend his intention. ‘He mustn’t git out!” cried Old Tomahawk, Trapper Tom realized the situation even be- fore the Indian-fighter had spoken, but the Sioux bad already nearly accomplished his in- tention. The little beaver-catcher leaped forward to thwart the Indian, and Old Tomahawk made an effort to reach the spot at the same time. Both were too late! The barricade which the rapid hands of Young Eagle wrenched from its place was © flung into Trapper Tom’s face, and the ladder, shoved from its place by Old Tomahawk’s ef- fort, bad fallen with that worthy to the ground, The boy trapper and his friend heard the door open, and the former caught sight of the fp oes pines abe, it

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wounded Sioux as -he leaped across the thresh- old to lose himself in the night beyond! The Indian’s escape had not lasted a minute, bnt before the beaver-hunter recovered from his astonishment Old Tomahawk had shut the door again and had it barricaded once more, “*More’n a bandful, warn’t he, Tom?” he asked with a grin as be faced the Wood Imp. es the only red-skin I found aniong the ts— “But I heard more than one up there.” “T don’t doubt that,” was the response. “But you see whar thar’s a hole the rats will git out,” * A hole?” “Yes: thar’s a hole in yer roof big enough.to let an Injun out, Somehow or other, thet oung buck stayed behind. Mebbe he wishes he adn’t now.” Trapper Tom without reply sprung to the fal- len Indder. “T must see to my pelts. Ido not doubt that the Indians carried off the best ones.” “They all seem to be there, but I don’t know how come he had, Mebbe you had better in- spect the pile.” The ladder was speedly set back in its place, and, provided with a light, Trapper Tom as- cended to the loft. He found abundant evidence there of the visit of more than one Indian, and a hole in the roof already discovered by Old Tomahawk showed him how they got away. He next examined the precious pelts and uttered an exclamation of joy when he dis- covered that, although they had made soft couches for the thieving Sioux, not one had been taken, Yes, they were still safe, but the circum- stances that surrounded them were no guaran- tee that they would remain so. He closed the opening in the roof as well as he could with the means then at his disposal, and descended to the waiting Indian hunter with his report. ‘“T’m glad to hear they’re safe,” said Old Tomahawk; ‘‘but, my dear boy, you an’ yer pelts ar’ just now in a mighty ticklish place.” “Ticklish or not, sir, ’m going to stay here and keep them, or lose my scalp!” was the an- swer. ‘Let the Sioux come, Tomahawk. What TI’ve toiled for through rain, snow and sleet, I shall defend with the last drop of my blood!” Old Tomabawk stepped back and eyed the little trapper proudly for a moment, “You're little, but thar’s a giant’s grit in you!” he suddenly exclaimed. “If you could trust Old Tomabawk altogether, we could be friends,” “T can do that!” said Trapper Tom, and the next moment he buried bis hand in Old Toma- hawk’s palm. CHAPTER IV. A STORY AND A SHOT. OLD TOMAHAWK believed that he bad closed the cabin door just in time behind the wounded Indian whose escape had been so sudden as to startle the boy mapeer. It was not likely that Mountain Pete, the renegade, and his companions had taken their Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. y departure, and the old scalp-hunter believed as well he might, that the end was not yet. For a moment the occupants of the cabin stood face to face with clasped hands, and when they stepped apart, a friendship which death only could break had been formed. ““We'’ve got to a og fer a reg’lar tussle,” said Old Tomahawk. ‘The Injuns have scent- ed the plunder, an’ they’re not goin’ back with- out it if they kin help it, I know Mountain Pete an’ the whole posse out thar only too well, an’ [ calkerlate that some ov ’em have heard ov Old Tomabawk.” “Tf they have not, they will form his ac- quaintance, eh, my friend?’ ‘** Wal, they will,” was the reply, as theeyes of the Indian-hunter twinkled savagely. ‘ What’s yer stock ov ammunition, boy?” Trapper Tom replied by showing his new friend a small keg of powder, a lot of balls with lead and molds for more, an additional rifle, and two extra revolvers. Old Tomabawk pronounced the little arsenal ‘a good lay-out,” and remarked that Mountain Pete and bis friends would meet with a warm reception if they openly attacked the cabin. Contrary to 4 ee Tom’s expectations, the minutes passed without bringing on open hostili- ties, He thought that the wounded Indian’s esca’ would be swiftly followed by an attack, but Old Tomahawk assured him that the set outside had their heads together and were plotting some new devilment, : During the calm, the pelts stored in the loft of the cabin were carried. below and piled in one corner that they might be better defended. It was feared that as the Indians who bad been concealed among the skins had escaped by the roof, they would return by the same channel during an attack on the cabin and get away with the precious booty. The sight of the results of Tom’s trappin season gladdened the eyes of Old Tomahaw when they formed a great heap in one corner of the little apartment. There were skins of all the fur-bearing ani- mals of that portion of the great Northwest— foxes, beaver, mink, muskrat and marten, with some elegant bear robes and wolf-skins, Trapper Tom’s eyes | gh with pride as he surveyed the heap, and he mentally vowed that they should not pass from his hands into the possession of a lot of red-skins. His knowledge of traps and trapping had stood him in good need; he had accumulated fur enough to permit bim toretire from the business with a competence that would place him beyond toil and want. Lai We need not describe the feelings with which the occupants of the isolated cabin awaited the attack they both expected. Not a sound disturbed the vigils of the night, and Old Tomahawk ascended to the loft more than once, and peering through the crevices in the roof, saw the stars that beautified the cloud- less sky. “It kinder mystifies me,” he said, at last. “This stillness doesn’t mean that Mountain Pete an’ his red pards have said ‘Good-by, Trapper Tom,’ an’ gone home. Tell that half- = = . Se a Ie eel

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get it er lose his hair!” The light that dimly illumined Trapper Tom’s cabin burned low, and was not revived when if at last bade the two friends adieu. The long night at last drew to a close, and the ‘boy trapper ‘hailed the first gray streaks of dawn with a ery of delight. _ “Morning! Look, Tomahawk! We will know something now.” Sure enough, morning had come again. Trapper Tom’s first bound was to a crack be- tween the logs, and soon he was eagerly survey- ing the premises outside, : “They have gone, sure enough!” he exclaim- ed, “Tomahawk, there isn’t an Indian in sight.” An investigation by the old Indian-hunter proved the truth of the boy’s observation, but the door was nvt*unbarred nor was the vigil- ance for a moment relaxed, The light grew stronger as the day advanced, and the sharp eyes of the boy trapper per- ceived a dark-red line that extended from the cabin toward the river, This'was undoubtedly the blood-trail of Young Eagle, the Sioux whom he had wounded in the encounter in the hut. Trapper Tom felt a fierce triumph tugging at his heart-strings while his eyes followed the red trail; he had cut the young Indian deeply, yet he yearned to follow the trail to the end. The sun came up and dissipated tbe last shadows of night; it showed Trapper Tom and Old Tomahawk the surroundings of the cabin, but not a red-skin did it reveal. ‘* Mebbe they have departed, but not for long,” said the lank Indian-hunter. ‘‘ What have you got for breakfast?” This question carried the Wood Imp to his backwoods larder, whose contents consisted at that moment of some excellent bear-meat, a . wild turkey, and a haunch of cold venison. With this spread before them, the two friends ate a hearty breakfast, for the vigils of the night just passed had sharpened their appetites. **Now,” said Old Tomahawk, as he settled back from the feast, ‘‘ Pll tell you a funny story before Mountain Pete an’ his pards come back. When [asked you if you found a stake in one corner of this cabin when you took possession of it, you looked at me an’ yer eyes said; ‘Ts Old Tomahawk erazy? Wal, I’m not crazy now, boy, ef I war once, About. ten years ago 1 war prospectia’ somewhar, an’ [run across a vein gold thet war a dandy. I war alone, but the gold war to be had fur the pickin’ up. Now, you'll open yer eyes afors [ git through; but I’m ready to swear to every word I say. Wal, whar I found the gold I built a cabin an’ stayed thar awhile till | bad accumulated nug- gets enough to place Old Tomahawk forever beyond want. I built my cabin, I recollect, right over the mouth ov ther shaft I had sunk, an’ had the secret all to myself. At last I con- eluded to go back to whar I[ had started from, sol covered ther mouth of the shaft, drove a stake.in one corner of the shanty, covered up all traces of gold, an’ pulled out, “On my way back I war captured by a lot of Sioux who tied me to an unbroken horse an’ Ss . a blood whar thar’s a dressed beaver-hide, an’ he’ll - Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. gave the animile the whip. Heaven knows whar that mad critter didn’t run to. WhenI came to my senses whar do you think I war? I war lyin’ on a board in a minin’-camp away down in Colorado, an’ ther miners had tied me fast to prevent me from wanii’rin’ off. I had been thar fer three months, crazy as a loon all the time, talkin’ about a gold-mine, an’ tryin’ ter draw a map ov the route toit on the ground, I say that war nigh ten years ago, Trapper Tom. Since that time I’ve tried a thousand times to find that shanty, but my min‘1’s furgot the route. I can’t tell what the sbanty looks like, but I do know that I planted a stake in one corner, an’ nothin’ more, Of late I’ve given up all thoughts of ever seein’ it again, an’ took to huntin’ the Sioux thet tied me to thet horse. Somewhar thet cabin stands to-day, an’ under it is a gold mine thet would create’ a sensation. I’ve heard ov lone cabins in the mountains, an’ I’ve babs sl to every one; but no stake in the corner. It’s been disapp’intment year arter year. When | think too bard my head aches an’ I feel as if ther crazy spell war comin’ back, Thet’s why I asked you last night, boy, whether thar war a stake in one corner of this shanty when you came here, Old Tomahawk’s story is a queer one, don’t you think? but every word is as true as preachin’.” The old fellow ceased and his eyes wandered first to one corner and then to another, His story and his manner of telling it had impressed Trapper Tom. “Td like to help you hunt your lost gold mine,” be said, “Tt’s no use. Thet shanty is lost ferever. Some day a storm will tear it to pieces an’ a lot ov red greasers will find the bonanza; but to Old Tomahawk it is forever lost, If I only could remember the sbape ov the shanty an’ the profile ov the kentry thet surrounded it I might run across it some time; but these things have passed out ov my head. No, I guess Vil fight Injuns ther rest ov my life.” Old Tomahawk ended with a laugh, which was supplemented by the sharp crack of a riflo. The next second Trapper Tom leaped to his feet and then staggered back, a red spot show- ing itself on his shoulder where the buckskin coat was torn, ‘“Winged!” cried Old Tomahawk, as he sprung to the boy’s side, rifla in hand and eyes flashing madly. ‘‘I guess I know whose com- pliments that war.” By this time the boy trapper had recovered, and he opened his trapping-coat to see the mark of the bullet which bad entered the cabin be- tween two logs. “Who fired that shot?’ he cried between tnenee teeth. ‘‘ Was it that young Indian I cut?’ “No. Judgin’ from the size ov this bullet, Trapper Tom. Yd call the shooter Mountain Pete,” and Old Tomahawk held up to the boy’s gaze a large bullet he bad taken from its bed in the cabin wali. CHAPTER V. TRAPPER TOM’S GRIT. THAT one sharp shot was followed by the most profound silence,

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bai Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. ase Old Tomahawk sprung from Trapper Tom’s side to the chink, with a growl of rage similar to that which issues from the throat of a mad- dened tiger. His eyes swept the scenery on the outside, but the figure of the man who bad fired the shot was not to be seen. “Just as I expected; the coward is afraid to show himself,” he said after watching for a moment, ‘It was Mountain Pete—tbat’s sar- tain.” Trapper Tom by this time had examined his wound, which was a slight flesh one, although blood had flowed profusely, and now stood at Old Tomahawk’s side with rifle cocked and a pair of eager eyes on the alert. “ Pshaw! what’s the use ov watchin’ fer ‘em?” exclaimed tbe Indian-fighter in tones of disgust. 7] bate a man what won’t fight fair, an’ thet’s why I despise Mountain Pete.” ‘We'll catch bim yet,” said the boy. “T bope so. I’ve been wanting to lay hands on thet hound fer years. I'd rather settle with him an’ his pards than flod the cabin with the stake in the corner.” Nothing more was said, Tbe sun canie up, touched the meridian, and crept slowly down the decline toward the west, Since morning nothing bad occurred to dis- turb the serenity of the landscape that sur- rounded Trapper Tom’s cabin, It seemed as though an Indian foot had not pressed the ground for years. “Pd like to know what’s in my traps,” said Trapper Tom as he watched the long shadows of the trees fall across his but, ‘* There was one beaver in them last night; there may be more, and I am anxious to increase my s‘ore of pelts.” ‘ Better let them traps take keer ov them selves,” said Old Tomahawk. ** And lose my beaver?” cried the boy. “ Wale yes.” “‘T'll never do that,” was the firm respense. “Ym going to see what my traps have caught,” Ty night?” “To night!” Old Tomahawk looked at the Wood Imp, but made no reply. **T know the way and Mountain Pete and his rd pards have no terrors for me,” Trapper Tom said, looking up into the dark eyes of the old Indian-hater. ‘* Woe to the rascals if they have meddled with my property. Tomahawk, I’m going to ask you to keep house till I come back. When the sun has fairly set, I’m off.” Still there was no answer. Old Tomahawk leaned against the wall and appeared to be buried in thought. “ Maybe he's trying to locate the lost cabin,” thought Trapper Tom. ‘*Didn’t he say awhile ago that when he thinks hard about it be feels like he’s going back to insanity? I hope he’ll never got that way again.” The little trapper bustled about and got ready to go to the bayou where he had set the beaver- traps. e was curiously watched by the Indian-hun- ter who neither remonstrated, nor uttered a syllable. The moment came and Trapper Tom, armed to the teeth, stepped to the door, “Wateb till r come back, Tomahawk,” he said as the old bunter laid his band on the bar- ricades, ‘I'll bring traps and beaver, ‘and, possibly, a scalp.” Then Old Tomabawk spoke. “Be keerful that you bring your own back,” he said. “Whar yer traps ar’ thar may be bigger game than beaver.” That was all. The door was opened by the Indian-hater, and Trapper Tom glided across the threshold to hear the berricades replaced behind him. The boy-trapper felt the situation in which he was placed, More than two miles stretched between bim and the bayou where be had left his traps the night before. Tbe sun Lad gone down and the forest that bordered the little stream was full of shadows, such as are sometimes cast by a watery moon, The twigs bent but did not break beneath the trapper’s feet for his steps were light, and at times he seemed to glide over the ground with- out the least noise. He no longer mistrusted Old Tomahawk, but looked upon the Indian-hater es a friend whom be could trust in the hour of danger and need, Trapper Tom took the straight cut to the bayou because he was eager to reach it and in- spect bis traps. As he burried along he kept ears and eyes on the alert, for he could not forget the villain whose bullet bad nearly put en end to bis life, At last he saw tbe trees that fringed the ba- sin loom up before him, and quickened his steps. bree minutes later he was stooping over the first trap, attached to which he found a large, fat beaver, whose pelt would rejoice the eye of the trader. It did not take him long to secure trap and animal to bis back, then he burried to the sec- ond trap which also held a beaver. Trapper Tom for the moment forgot Moun- tain Pete and his friends, and thought only of the game he vould display to Old Tomahawk on Lis return to the cabin, ‘If the last trap is equally lucky, I will be satisfied!” he ejaculated. A minute Jater be was kneeling over the third trap. Another beaver! Trapper Tom allowed an exclamation of joy to escape his Jipsas be drew the sleek but life- less animal frcm the water, and with «n air of triumph be sv ung the prize upon bis back, “Now for the old. shanty!” he said, ‘Tl open Old Tomahawk’s eyes with my luggage when I get back!” He reached for the rifle he bad placed against a tree while getting the last trap, but as his fingers touched it he beard a noise, and a figure fell astride bis arm from the branches over- head. Trapper Tom started back with a cry of horror, * Indians!” “Injuns an’ worse!” was the response, as from every tree something human in shape, but t a ee oe a ot a at a ete el ee

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panther-like, dropped to the ground and sur- rounded him, The first one had broken the Wood Imp’s grip on his rifle, and too astonished to draw his revolver, he found himself in the center of a circle calculated to territy the bravest hunter. But the boy still clung to his traps and beaver. “‘T know you!” he said fearlessly to the leader of the band, who towered before him lke a giant, ‘*You’re the meanest human in these Saha and men have nicknamed you Mountain ete!” {fn response to this accusation there was a grin, and then a coarse, brutish laugh from the man addressed, ‘*Mountain Pete I am, my little chipper. Why don’t you stay at home when_I’m about? Got a good load ov fat beaver thar, I see—that’s just what we want,” Trapper Tom instinctively recoiled a step at Mountain Pete’s last words, so suggestive of forcible robbery. He forgot that he was entirely surrounded— that there were Indians at his back as relentless as those in his front. ** Retreatin’ won’t save yer traps,” Mountain Pete continued. ‘‘ Just drop ’em on the ground without ceremony.” : What! Give up his beaver to a lot of villain- ous Sioux, led by a dastardly renegade? The thought lit up the boy trappe:’s eyes with a defiant flash. ‘ “These beaver are mine!” he said. ** But we want ’em—don’t you see?” ** Well, you can’t have them!” “Can't, hey, my chipper? We'll take what you’ve got byer an’ then help ourselves to all you’ve got at home!” Mountain Pete strode toward Trapper Tom as the last words rung from his throat, The dark-skinned renegade looked like a fiend incarnate, for the lightnings of greed and mad- ness shot from his eyes. ‘Traps an’ beaver!—drop ’em!” he roared. The next instant the precious game, with the traps to which it was still attached, dropped at the boy trapper’s feet. “‘That’s sensible,” said Pete, up yer traps than yer b’ar!” . rapper Tom bit his lips at these words, and the next instant his foot was pressing down the springs of the traps. He worked like one who thoroughly under- stood what he was doing and almost before one of tho red circle could divine his object, he had jerked the three traps from the ground and was swinging them around bis head! “Take my beaver, but with the compliments of the traps that caught them!” fell from his lips as he started forward. Mountain Pete saw the maddened boy’s inten- tion and threw up his hands to frustrate him, but too late. Amid a rattle of chains, the heavy iron traps struck him full in the face, and, unable to keep his feet, so terrible was the blow dealt with Se dod Tom’s entire strength, that he reeled back a pace and Cropped to the ground! The Wood Imp wit “Better give an exulting cry leaped over the renegade’s prostrate body, but with a score of yelling red-skins at his heels, Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. A dozen hands were thrust out to grasp him, but he was just beyond their reach, and whirl- ing suddenly, he dashed the traps in the face of the foremost, sending him bleeding to the ground like a person struck fair by a pugilist, This last stroke checked the yelling band for a miunane and gave Trapper Tom a breathing- spell. ‘““Now for a run for my scalp!” he said to himself, and the next instant he wheeled and dashed through the forest like a deer! It was, indeed, to be a race for life, for he had not executed three bounds ere he found the yelling miscreants at his heels. One by one he threw the traps from him into the forest, then tightening his belt and loosen- ing his revolver for an emergency which he hoped would never come, he summoned all his strength to his aid and taxed his racing powers to their utmost, His goal was the cabin where he had left Old Tomahawk; but could he reach it? He had run before, but never from a lot of Indians who wanted his scalp. He had been chased by bears and wounded bucks, but now an enemy more relentless than either was in bis wake, with yells that malo the welkin ring, and with ready knife and toma- hawk whetted for his skull. On, on went the boy trapper, tearing through the woods, leaping logs and stumps like one mad. Such an exciting chase those forest trails had never seen before, But Trapper Tom’s efforts seemed hopeless. The red-skins came down upon him like a pack of wolves. “We'll fight it out, then!” he suddenly ex- claimed, and, wheeling suddenly, he corfronted the yelling gang with outstretched revolver. Instantly the foremost recoiled, but in spite of this the Wood Imp touched the trigger and a por brave leaped into the air to fall back ea CHAPTER VI. IN THE NICK OF TIME, For nearly a minute the undaunted boy stood erect and poured the contents of his revolver into the ranks of the red-skins. The Sioux reeled from the deadly flashes, and several went to the ground with the leaden com- pliments of the boy trapper in their brain. It was a wild scene, and one which the red survivors would not soon forget. Such a fight, maintained on the boy’s part against such terrible odds, could not last long. He had driven the Indians back a few paces, but they would surely prove victors in the end. Trapper Tom was not far from the cabin, near enough at least for Old Tomahawk to rush to his rescue, if so disposed; but the giant. In- dian-bunter did not show himself, Suddenly the red-skins and the little trapper seemed to meet. They actually came together, and in the twinkling of an eye the boy’s arm was knocked down, the weapon torn from his grasp, and he Med overpowered by a dozen infuriated red emons,

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The battle was over, and Trapper Tom realiz- ed bis danger when he found bimself a prisoner with four dead Indians on the ground at his feet, appealing mutely to the living to avenge their death. In the midst of the menacing knives and tomahawks, and the mad, glaring eyes of his captors, the little beaver-catcher stood erect and gave them look for look like a hero. He fully expected to be brained on*the spot, but the Indians, instead of treating him thus, started back toward the bayou, from whose shores his race for life had begun. “White boy go back to where he hit the Yel- low Chief,” said a dozen voices, in response to Tom’s questioning look. ** Which means that 1 im to confront Moun- tain Pete, the villain whom I felled with the traps,” thought the boy. ‘* TI will not meet with a very cordial reception, but I guess I can stand the interview.” As the distance from the place of bis capture to the spot where he had ett Mountain Pete senseless on the ground was not great, he was soon confronted by the dark giant whose face already swollen rendered bim in aspect more ferocious than ever. His eyes seemed to become balls of fire as they alighted on Trapper Tom. “Caught you, did they, young tiger?” he ex- claimed as a stride carried bim to where the beaver-catcher stood watched by the red-skins. “Look at my face! Itis your infernal work— the compliments ov your beaver-traps! I’m Mountain Pete, more’n half wildcat, I’ve a notion ter ¢kin yer alive!” These ferocious sentences were hissed from the depths of the renegade’s heart. He towered like a mountain above the boy, ‘and threatened to fall upon bim and crush him at any moment. Withont a quaver Trapper Tom faced the forest desperado, and gave ‘him look for look. The anger of Mountain Pete increased, He raved, beat the air with his fists, and once or twice lsid his hands on Trapper Tom’s shoulders and shook him till bis teeth chattered, “Tia 'the young imp to yon tree!” he sudden- ly thundered to the red-skins. ‘* Never mind his feet. Tie bim by bis hands only, and give him five feet ov rope. I want tosee the young daisy dance,” Trapper Tom knew what these words meant, He was to be whipped by the giant, unmerci- fully flogged until, perhaps, lacerated by the cutting withes, he should fall at his torturer’s feet dead, J Eager to do Mountain Pete's bidding, the Sioux carried the Wood Imp to the tree desig- nated by the despe ado’s finger, and in less than five minutes’ he was secured to it by a lariat which bound his wrists together, and allowed him five feet of cord, + “Now cut open his jacket on the back and get me a dozen good switches.” Mountain Pete took a fiend’s delight in issuing these commands, Need we say that they were promptly obeyed? ; : A keen knife that had no respect for Trapper Tom’s flesh ripped open his trapping-coat on the Tripper Tom, the Wood Imp. Il ‘ back, and exposed the white skin to the eyes of the bloodthirsty crowd. A dozen long switches had been thrown at Mountain. Pete’s feet, and selecting one, he raised it suddenly aloft ard bade the red-skins stand back. As the whip cut the air and was about to de- scend upon the little trapper’s back, he threw a look over his shoulder and caught the dark giant’s eye, ‘“What means thet look?’ demanded Moun- tain Pete lowering the whip and striding to the boy’s side, ** Interpret it as you please,” was the reply. * It means vengeance, doesn’t it, boy?” Trapper Tom’s lips sbut hard but there was no reply. “When I'm tbrough with you, I'll not be afraid ov yer vengeance,” laughed the renegade coarsely, ‘‘ When I whip a man he never hurts any body afterwards.” Again Mountain Pete stepped back and once more up went the whip. “Drop thet stick!” rung suddenly through the forest in tones that startled every one. The Indiang with one accord wheeled toward that point of the compass from whence the sound had come. ‘* Who said thet?’ demanded Mountain Pete. ** A man what has sworn thet thet boy sha’n’t be whipped,” was the response, **Who ar’ you?” “Your better, Mountain Pete! Throw down thet stick!” : There was a menace in the command, but the renegade hesitated, The Indians and all who looked could almost see the speaker. If the moon had been foll and bright, they could bave distinguished his figure despite the Shadows of the trees, “IT ought to know thet voice,” murmured Mountain Pete, and then be turned to the boy trapper with the inquiry. ‘‘Do you know thet interferer, boy?” Of course Trapper Tom knew the voice which had spoken among the forest trees, and at the first word bis heart had leuped for joy. Old Tomahawk was out there, and though the beaver-catcher could not see bim, he could pic- ture him erect with bis deadly repeating rifle ro his: shoulder while he covered Mountain ete. “Do you know thet man out thar? Speak!” thundered the renegade at Trapper Tom’s ear. ‘*Ov course he knows me,” came the response from where the interferer stood. ‘ We've j’in- ed hands in friendship and Old Tomahawk’s goin’ ter do bis part.” ** Old Tomahawk!” Mountain Pete fairly recoiled as he uttered the Indian hunter's name, “Know me, [ see!” laughed Old Tomahawk. “Now, will you drop thet stick?” The trimmed bough which bad not got to touch the boy trapper’s flesh fell to the ground eres by an oath from Mountain Pete’s ips. ' Me Now, cut the little clipper loose.” This command seemed too much for the In- ‘ dians who had not forgotten that four of their

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Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. comrades had fallen by Trapper Tom’s revol- ver. “Stand back you red cut-throats, er I'll shoot my way to whar he stands!” cried Old Toma- hawk, ‘ By Jehosaphat! I’m worse than two minute p’isen when I’m stirred up. What ar’ you goin’ to do?” ‘Give him the youngster,” said Mountain Pete in low tones intended only for the ears of the incensed Indians, ‘‘ We can get him ag’in when we want ’im. Old Tomahawk has the drop on ther bull lot ov us, an’ he is p’isen when he’s riled. More’n one Injun knows this.” The question was suddenly settled by a stal- wart red-skin who leaped toward Trapper Tom knife in hand, and the glitteriag blade descended not into the boy’s bosom, but 7 ae the lariat and the little trapper stepped back free. “ Thet’s sensible,” said Old Tomahawk who seemed to possess the eyes of an owl. ‘Come: this way, boy. I’ve got the drop on the hull crowd,” Trapper Tom started toward his rescuer, but the following moment, with a wild yell of de- fiance and resistance, a young Indian threw himself in bis path. “‘ Young Hagle is here!” pealed from the new- comer’s throat. ‘The white trapper’s knife did not find his heart in his cabin. He sball not go to the scalper who calls him in the forest, but be and Young Eagle wili fight again.” Trapper Tom had already recognized the speaker as the young Sioux with whom he had had a scuffle in his cabin, an event already de- scribed, and he fully expected to be charged at once by the infuriated red-skin, “Get out ov the way thar, an’ let thet young chap out,” called out Old Tomahawk to Young Eagle who was standing his ground with flash- iog eyes, ‘He shall not escaps Young Eagle’s hand!” was the answer. The next second there rung out the sharp re- na of a rifle and the boy Sioux reeled anny as he knife be clutched dropped from bis hand. Trapper Tom saw his opportunity, and before the startled crowd could interfere or detain him na was bounding toward Old Tomahawk like a eer. The effect of the shot was electrical. Just as the boy trapper reached his rescuer, a dozen rifles launched their contents after bim, but the balls whistled harmlessly over his head or buried themselves in the trees near by. “* A close shave, ea, Trapper Tom?” ejaculated Old Tomahawk, as he received the little beaver- catcher. ‘‘Whar’s yer traps an’ yer beaver— but above all, whar’s yer rifles?” In a word, almost, Trapper Tom told the story of his unlucky fograty, to his traps. ** Lost ’em all, I see,” said the Indian-fighter. “Wal, you’ve got more. Thet young red turn- ed up when you didn’t look for "Im? I’ve hed things occur thet way fer me. Weill go back now. Woe to them reds ef they foller!’ The last sentence was spoken in tones calcu- lated for other ears than Trapper Tom’s, and the old scalper and his pard turned their faces toward the cabin. Though the Indians wanted their blood, they did not bound after them like a pack of wolves, A man—a giant called Mountain Pete—held them back, “Let ’em go,” he said. ‘ We'll win at the end ov the game, What’s a man an’ a boy ag’in’ twenty men like us?” Old Tomahawk and Trapper Tom reached the old cabin without molestation, and the boy bad scarcely crossed the threshold ere a hand encircled his arm. “ve made a diskivery, boy, an’ I’ll strike a light an’ show you,” said the scalper. Trapper Tom stood still with a great deal of difficulty, but a moment after a light bad been struck he uttered an exclamation of amaza- ment. There was a large hole in one corner of the cabin. **The long lost shanty, Tomahawk?” hv cried, as he bounded to it, Old Tomahawk smiled assent. CHAPTER VII. DARK SUSPICIONS, Ir it was true that the Indian-fighter had re- discovered the long-lost gold-mine, then, indeed, would the cabin be defended to the last ex- tremity. Trapper Tom could scarcely credit his senses as he gazed into the pit over which Old Toma- hawk held the light, while there was a broad grin on his face, “You had hardly got to yer traps when I made up my mind ter search under this shanty,” hesaid. ‘ You hed told me tbet thar warn’t a stake in one ov the corners when you came here, but I resolved to hunt anyhow, I -began in thet corner over thar, but the hunt didn’t pan out very well, so I came to this one, All at once, boy, I struck a board thet warn’t altogether decayed an’ I knew at once I had bit a lead ov some kind. The next minute I went down into a hole up to my waist an’ then sunk cl’ar out ov sight. This is the old shanty, an’ no mistake, Trapper Tom. How would you like to trade yer pelts for this bonanza?” The young beaver-catcher laughed at Old Tomahawk’s idea, and glanced slyly at the precious skins piled up in one corner of the but, “The reason I didn’t hear you shoot is be- cause I war in the mine at thet time,” con- tinued Old Tomahawk, ‘When I had made sure thet I hed found the old cabin, I locked u an’ started arter you with the good news, imagine thet 1 got to the bayou just in the nick oy time.” ‘* That you did, Tomahawk, and I’m thankful for your assistance. Without it Mountain Pete would have used his switches on my bare back with terrible effect,” **Wal, he would! Thet villain don’t know what mercy is. I know ov an Injun wife what war whipped to death once, an’ he warn’t a thousand miles off when the deed war done, either.” ‘Not so bad as that, I hope.” “Wait till you know ’im better and you won’t doubt,” said Old Tomahawk. ‘ But see here. We'll hide the mouth ov the mine for the present. When we have some leisure on our ands we'll explore it together. I mustn’t for get that I’m here on business—hunting Injuns,

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% The Wood Imp spoke in resolute tones, and if the scalper could have seen his eyes at that moment, he would not have wondered at the voice, “ T say let that’ fellar in, self, Tom,” he'said. long.” . Old Tomahawk passed Trapper Tom on bis way to the cabin-door, but the boy sprung from the bit of candle be had just lit and clutched his arm. You forget that I’m master here yet,” he said, meeting Old Tomahawk’s gaze. ‘‘I say ‘that Owen sha’n’t come in!” The Indian-hater’s: look instantly became a stare, “Great Jehosaphat! who told you thet Owen war out thar?” he exclaimed, **You! You told him to go round to the front door five minutes ago.” “Then you hevn’t been asleep all the time?” “ No.” He’s a host in him- ““ We may need him afore The next moment, Old Tomahawk laughed. ‘Wal, if you heard me talkin’ up in the loft, it’s all right, Trapper Tom,” be said, with what the boy would have designated brazen impu- dence. ‘f Owen’s a boy what can be trusted, Let me introduce you to him.” The speaker’s hand was on the barricades, but Trapper Tom, ’summoning all his strength, pushed him back. “*Owen shall stay out!” he cried. ‘I’m con- vineed thatif he’s a friend of yours he is none of mine. This door sha’n’t be opened!” The eyes of the Wood Imp seemed to emit sparks of fire, and he increased an inch in stat- ure while he faced the astonished trailer, deter- mination depicted on every lineament. ‘*What’s got into you?” cried Old Tomahawk. ‘Tt hasn’t been forty-eight hours since you said you'd trust me through thick an’ thin. Wasla traifor while I war savin’ you from Mountain Pete’s whips? Do I look like a spy an’ a traitor? Tf you won’t let Owen in, open the door an’ let Old Tomahawk out!” ~ Trapper Tom did not move. “You were whispering to that person in the loft when I awoke,” he said. “So I war. Owen came unexpectedly an’ war comin’in by the roof when I diskivered him. Letme ont. Owen an’ me kin tramp off to- gether,an’ you kin take keer ov yer pelts yerself.” “Pil do it!” exclaimed the boy trapper. “Tl stay here alone and defend my property to the bitter end.” He turned to the door and was about to let his gaunt ally out when he heard a voice that withheld his hands. ‘‘ Keep the door shut for Heaven’s sake! Til come in another way. The red wolves have come again!” The voice ceased and Old Tomahawk looked into the boy’s face, “ Thet’s Owen,” he whispered. you'll be glad to trust him.” Trapper Tom made no reply. CHAPTER VIII. ‘IN THE GOLD CAVE. Lzxr us see whether the mysterious Owen told the truth when he said that the red wolves, ** Before long A ae ea oie ss eh a ees a Pa SS = Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. meaning of course the Sioux, had come ack, If Old Tomahawk and Trapper Tom had in augurated a scout they would have discovered a number of shadowy figures among the trees that grew about the cabin. There were more than twenty in number, naked to the waist, and quite ferocious in as- pect, } Owen made good his escape, and just in time to save his own scalp, for he had not left the hut more than five minutes ere five creepin figures approached the door by crawling an listened intently at the threshold. ‘““ White people inside and awake,” whispered one as all arose to their feet. ‘‘ We make ’em talk now,” An instant later a short club in the hands of one of the Indians struck the door. ‘* White trappers talk fast; Injun* mad!” he exclaimed. leaves on the trees. Does the beaver-catcher listen?” : ‘‘T hear you,” answered Trapper Tom who stood near the door. rifle in band and a finger at the trigger. “Do you know tht you're risking your life standing where you are? I can send a bullet through the door.” ‘Door thick an’ Injun thin,” was the banter- ing answer. ‘‘ Will the boy trapper fight against the biggest braves of the Sioux nation?” “For my rights, yes! The size of my enemies does not daunt me. You can’t bave my pelts.” ““Injun goin’ to get’em, Will the beaver- catcher open his door?” ae No. ” A’ moment’s silence followed the reply and then a dozen war-clubs seemed to rain blows upon the door. At the same time the air resounded with yells as if the red-skins were holding a carnival in front of the doomed cabin, ‘* Pll put an end to that dance!” said Trapper Tom, as he stepped back a pace and threw his rifle to his shoulder, Old Tomahawk waited for the shot with a smile on his lips. It was not delayed, for all at once the inte- rior of the cabin was filled with the report of a rifle, and the ball thatcrashed through the door produced a wild yell of pain and put an instant mp, to the savage dance going on before the uf, “Thet fixed one ov ’em!” cried the scalp- hunter. ‘‘But we mustn’t ferget thet thar’s many 2 one left, What ar’ they up to now?” Old Tomahawk put his eye to the hole made by the bullet and surveyed the scene in front of the cabin for a few moments, “Nary an Injun out thar,” be said, with- drawing from the door. ‘To be sure, thar ain’t much moon, but I’m used to seeing arter night. ‘They’ve gone off with the red devil you winged, boy, but itll be a mighty brief res- pite.’ Trapper Tom was ‘ready to believe the concluding part of Old Tomahawk’s last sen- tence. ' Yes, brief would be the respite. To, eee Ten, minutes of inaction passed away, and “Red braves thicker than the - | : z) I | 4 j '

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Trapper Tom, then the Indian-ighter, who had returned tothe bullet-bole, uttered an exclamation which car- ried Tom to bis side. “They’ve got a fire-ball!” he said. ‘‘ Here they come with it.” These words were enough to strike terror to the heart of the bravest. Trapper Tom took one look through the bul- let-hole, which, small as it was, showed him the enemy with which they had to contend, A ball of fire, apparently five feet in diame- ter and blazing fiercely, was being pushed to- ward the Cebit oy a Jot of Indians with poles or sticks ten feet in length, Now and then their bodies were visible, but only for a moment, and not long enough to ad- mit of any one taking aim at them. If the fisry ball was pushed against the cabin door, and allowed to remain there, it would soon do its work, and the hideous triumph of the Indians would be complete. What was to be done? Nearer and nearer came the fire ball, gaining destructive strength with each revolution, and the Indians, believing their scheme successful, were yelling like a set of demons. Old Tomahawk watched the blazing monster with flashing eyes and compressed lips. “Tell take ’em twenty minutes to burn down the door,” be suddenly exclaimed, ‘‘ Before that time ends we'll be out ov harm’s way.” ‘* How sof” At that moment the fiery mass struck the door, and some dark smoke rushed into the cabin through several crevices. **To the mine!” said old Tomahawk. . ‘‘ You must not forget, Trapper Tom, that this is the shanty in which planted the stake ten years ago,” The Indian-fighter now began to remove the valuable pelts piled in one corner and being helped by Trapper Tom, this duty was quickly performed. The mouth of the gold mine was revealed b their work, and a moment later Old Tomahaw was hurling bundle after bundle of skins down the shaft. All this time the fire-ball was blazing against the door of the cabin to the delight of a score of dancing Indians whose wild yells mada the welkin ring. “Yell on, you_red rascals!” vociferated Old Tomahawk. ‘When you trade one ov them skins for fire-water, just let us know,” “Quick!” cried the boy trapper at that mo- ment. ‘‘ The door is cracking. It won’t hold out anotber minute, And they are preparing to assault it, too!” ‘* Let ’em charge! I’m ready,” was the retort. ‘Now jump into the hole, pard. The first landin’ ain’t far an’ you'll land on the skins be- sides,” Trapper Tom did not hesitate, and with a swift glance at the door he leaped into the cay- ernous opening and fell on the skins which had preceded bim. He heard overhead as he descended the coarse laugh of Old Tomahawk whom he had left be- hind, and then came a warning for him to step aside. The following moment the figure of the old a ‘ the Wood Imp. 1b Indian-hater landed at the boy’s side, and then came a crash, and the opening was filled with a shower of sparks, “They’ve bursted the door in an’ it’s fallen over the hole. Good for thet!” ejaculated Old Tomahawk. “They’ll suspect thet we've es- caped by the roof. Now we’ll tote the pelts an’ ourselves ahead to the mine proper whar I'll show you something.” The task pro} | by the Indian-fighter was not one easy of accomplishment, A narrow and low ceiled corridor ran from the place where the twain had landed. It was dark as Egypt, but they managed to push the pelts ahead of them until the passage widened, and they found themselves in a cham- ber whose walls they could not touch with out- stretched hands, ‘Have you a match, boy?” Trapper Tom felt in his pocket and produced one of the few lucifers that remained of the stock he had brought from the nearest mining- camp when he set out to try his fortunes on the tra ppine-gropads, he little light that followed Old Tomabawk’s stroke revealed nothing, but a better one was soon produced, and Trapper Tom uttered an ex- clamation of surprise, He found himself in a veritable underground cavern which looked as though it bad been cut by the hends of man. The walls were rough, and the ceiling he could not reach with his hands, The floor was covered with loose rocks, which to his eyes resembled quartz, so that be was not surprised when Old Tomahawk pronounced them fold-bearing nuggets. “Tl go back sn’ see what the imps ar’ up to,” said the Indian-fighter, and thrusting the stump of the torch into a crack in the wall to afford the boy trapper some light, he glided toward the month of the shaft. He was not long in disappearing and Trapper Tom found himself alone, He looked with triumph upon the bundle of skins that lay at bis feet. He counted them again and again to find that not one pelt was missing, and his gaze would always revert to the traps which they had brought along. For ten minutes he stood among bis treasure, waiting for Old Tomahawk’s return. The yells of the Indians had ceased to ring in his ears, and he tried to believe that, failing to find him in the cabin, they had taken their de- parture, headed no doubt by that villain of vil- lains, Mountain Pete. Confirming himself at last in this belief, Trap- per Tom seated himself on one of the bundles of beaver-pelts and fell to examining the rocks that littered the floor, { Was he really in the gold mine which had been lost for ten years? and would be and Old Tomahawk be eble to become real friends and partners? He could not forget the conversation he had overheard between Old Tomahawk and the per- son called Owen, Who was Owen? ¥ Was he a young red-skin with an Bos name; or a white man like the Sioux-hater? _ ere i

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These questions and otherssimilar might have continued to puzzle Trapper Tom’s brain for some time, if the sound of a footstep had not startled him. To look up was to spring erect, and the click of his rifle-lock was heard as he executed the movement, Ho looked toward the mouth of the mine, whither Old Tomahawk had disappeared. One look was enouzh. There was advancing upon him an Indian whose eyes burned green in the light of the torch, As Trapper Tom threw his rifle to his shoul- der, the red-skin, with a cry of rage, came bounding toward him. He had but one second of time at his com- mand, ong as a flash he covered the painted Sioux, ard as the Indian reached the muzzle of his rifle, he touched the trigger with an inward prayer for success, a report that followed was dull and hor- a. An Indian, with his head blown away, reeled from the muzzle of the Wood Imp’s rifle, and fell quivering to the ground! Trapper Tom had not fired a moment too soon, But the worst had not yet come, Scarcely had the Sioux touched the floor of the gold cave, ere a yell was heard nearer the mouth of the corridor. ** My God! more Indians and in the mine!” fell from vhe boy’s lips. ‘‘If lam to fight them let it be in darkness.” A mad bound carried him to the torch which he jerked from the wall and beat against the rocks until it was extinguished, and darkness filled the place. * We’re on an equal footing now,” he said, feeling for his knife, and assuring himself that it wassafe. ‘“‘I am sure that Iam left alone, Old Tomahawk has fallen into the clutches of the Indians, Four days ago I did not dream of such times as these.” The fact that the Indian he had shot had en- tered the cavern by the corridor was proof to his mind that be had been forcibly deprived of Old Tomahawk, his ally. 3 He stood in the midst of his pelts knife in hand and with ears on the alert. He expected an attack at any moment and braced himself to receive it. More than oace he thougbt he detected the sound of footsteps, but as the moments passed without bringing on the expected assault, his spirits revived. All at once one of the bundle of pelts moved at his feet, Eager to save it, Trapper Tom stooped and put forth his hand. An instant later itcame in contact with a living wris-, and he sprung erect still grasping the prizs he had secured. It was a thrilling momeat. CHAPTER TX. THE FIGHT IN THE DARK. Tue boy trapper imagined that he could see tho figure of the red-skin by whom he was con- Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. fronted, but owing to the darkness that pre- vailed in the gold cave, of course he could not actually do this. For a moment the Indian submitted to Trap- per Tom’s grasp, and then with a sudden jerk he wrenched himself loose, ‘White trapper no hold Young Eagle!” he exclaimed. The Wood Imp started at the sound of the voice, and at the name just spoken. The red-skin before him was Young Hagle, the Sioux buck, an enemy whom he had al- ready encountered, and he felt that the meet- ing in the dark would prove a duel to thedeath. “T am ready for you,” he exclaimed. “I did not get to finish you in the cabin, but we can fight it out bere.” Once more Trapper Tom braced himself to recieve a charge he believed to be imminent, and for several minutes be stood in mute ex- pectancy among his furs. But Young Eagle did not seem disposed to renew the combat in such gloom as that which surrounded them, and Trapper Tom was com- pelled to wait in vain. At last he heard the Sioux moving eff, and tthe | the knife he stooped and inspec.ed bis pelts, To his surprise one of the most valuable bundles had been abstracted, and the boy trap- per ground his teeth while be thought of it. The thought of losing a part of biz winter's toil sent the blood like a current of molten lava through his veins, “That Indian shall disgorge!” he grated, “TI will not be robbed with pap een No red-skin shall take from me the skins I have trapped for all winter. [ have been robbed enough al- ready. But how to find Young Eagle?—that was the question. Trapper Tom was now confident that the sav- age he had killed and the young buck were ihe only ones who had entered the gold cave; but there was no telling how soon others would fiad their way to it until the cavern should swarm with red-skins, Still in the midst of this uncertainty he re- solved to recover and keep all his property. Daring the illumination of the cave by the torch he had noticed an offset which offered eoncealment for his furs, and he believed that he could find it despite the gloom, “PU try it,” he mentally ejaculated, “Lat me pat my furs out of the way, and then I'll hunt that red-buck down.” Picking up his pelts, Trapper Tom started out on the bunt of the niche, and, as if guided by a friend, he found it without incident. | An exclamation of joy almost fell from hislips, Feeling along the walls of the niche he dis- covered a natural shelf wide enough to receive the furs, and they were laid upon it. “Tm ready for the hu.t now,” said Trapper Tom, “Woe to the youog buck if I run across him?!’ He was about to leave the niche when a strange noise from behind made him turn in that direction, ‘What was that?’ he asked. ‘Is this open ing more than a niche?”

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i aes Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. T e questions were answered before he could draw another breath, for ail at once a fierce growl smote bis ears, and some large animal shot past bis bead, so near that his cap was car- ried to the ground. Trapper Tom staggered back with an ejacula- tion of borror on his con; ue. ‘Great beavens! a panther!” he cried. The dark walls of the gold cave echoed back the mad growl of the unseen beast. Tom knew that it had missed him in its spring, but it was liable to repeat the operation at any moment, and the next time with better success, The presence of the panther in the cavern was enought to daunt the Wood Imp; but he re- solved to meet the new danger firmly, and to conquer if victory were possible. He picked up his r fle and tried to make out the shining eyes of the panther, but there was no light in the cavern, and he was unable to do 0. “I’m going to settle this matter one way or the other,” he said, firmly, taking a match from bis pocket, ‘The Indian may discover me, but better that than to be menaced in the dark by a panther,” The next moment he drew the lucifer across a stone, and when it began to burn with some brilliance, held it above his head. At first he saw nothing, but all at orce he noticed the panther crouched on the ground about fifteen feet away, his eyes shining like mad stars, and his tail moving uneasily on the ground behind him. lt was a sight that sent a thrill through every fiber of the boy’s frame! This was not all the burning match revealed, Hugging the wall of the cavern, and not more than six feet heyond the panther was Young Bagie, the Sioux, anxiety and terror depicted on his countanance, Tho arrival of the panther had undoubtedly interrupted a duel to the death, for Young Eagle’s position told Trapper Tom that he was advancing upon him when the leap occurred, Tne Wood [mp had no more than seen this tableau ere his match went out, He laid the rifle aside, drew his revolver, and struck another lucifer. His only hope seemed to bein the speedy death of the panther, As the match flared up, he leveled the reyol- ver and took deliberate aim at the crouching beast, His safety depended on the success of that shot. The beast seemed to divine the boy’s inten- tion, and was about to spring through the air and land upon him, whea the revolver spoke, “Hit!” ejaculated Trapper Tom, as a terrific how! filled the gold cave, and the panther tum- bled backward, “The panther is hit, white boy, but he still lives!” said the Indian, ‘*His teeth are sharp and his claws are strong.” Trapper Tom already knew that bis shot had failed to kil) the panther, and that he had ren- dered it more desperate b: wounding it. He saw the animal writhing on the ground and clawing the air in its agony, while the In- ae 17 dian looked on with a knife in his hand, ready to defend himself against the beast. Suddenly the panther bounded into the air and came down within five feet ef the boy epee who involuntarily retreated, “Shoot! shoot!” called out the red-skin, At tbat momext Trapper Tom’s match went out and he threw it away. Still the expiring flame bad showed him the position of tne wounded animal, and hastily raising his revolver he fired another shot. . The cave was filled with the noise of the report, and the boy was not permitted to learn the result of Lis shot, for the next second some- thing struck bim a stunning blow on the breast and he went backward, : The panther had leaped upon him} He instinctively dropped his revoiver and drew his knife once more, The panther seemed to be crushing ibe life out of him, yet be managed to strike s: veral blows, each one of which carried the knife beneath the beast’s yellowish hide, Tt was a terrible figbt in the dark for life, and the odds were against the boy trapper. Never before bad he been called upon to battle so desperately for that which woes so dear to him, and he resolved while he fought to sell his life as dearly as possible. He felt the teeth of the animal in his shoulder, but from his uncomfortable position on the ground he maintained the unequal combat, striking desperate blows with the knife, , At la-t ove of bis bands found the panther’s throat, and as he wrenched his hold loose be got in a Jucky stroke which sent a quiver through the panther’s body. The stab was as vital as it was fortunate. The beast fell to one side, and Trapper Tom, releasing its throat, got upon his feet as quick as he could, He felt weak and exhausted, but there was joy in his heart, for he knew that the madden d panther had been put cut of herm’s way. “I'm victor, thank Heaven!” he exclaimed. “Now I suppose I will be attacked by that young Indian who stole my furs, and who now wants my scalp. He spoke in tones that produced an echo, and a moment later they met with a response. Trapper Tom beard a quick footstep and then a number of voices. ‘“Heavens! the cave is filling with Indians!” dropped from bis tongue. This was even so, and although he could not see a single form, certain sounds told bim that he had judged rightly, He stood against the wall of the niche in which he had so bravely battled with the pan- ther, and heard sourds terrible encugh to test the courage of the most undaunted. “Where are the white trapper and his furs?” sounded throughout the gold cave. “Here we are!” grated Trapper Tom, defi- antly. ‘Here we are, you merciless red devils, Weak as I am I am ready to meet you all.” The boy had tostand his ground, for there was a wall of stone behind him. He awaited the discovery with breathless ex- citement, ane, for the fray, But before it came a noise sounded overhead, 4 x]

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Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. from whence the panther made his first leap, and as T7apper Tom turned, a human hand fell upon his shoulder, “Como up here, white boy,” said a voice, “Who are you?” asked Trapper Tom, *“ Owen!” CHAPTER X, ** OWEN.” THERE instantly flashed across the - trap- per’s brain a sentence recently spoken by Old Tomahawk concerning Owen: “ Before long, Trapper Tom, you’ll be glad to trust him.” 1 Ses ei was the peril of the moment that the Ww Imp did not draw back from the person whom be had refused to admit into the cabin because he was the old Indian-fighter’s friend. On the contrary, he gave Owen his hand and was helped to a place above the floor of the niche just ip time, be believed, to save him from the Indians in the gold cave, “Keep still, boy,” whispered Owen, in the darkness. ‘“ Wenosafe yet. The Sioux want our scalps, an’ we must bs cautious,” Trapper Tom’s silence was a promise to obey, and together the pair heard the Sioux searching the cavern for the boy who had eluded them, They found the panther, dead enough, and made a great ado over the body. “Tt was a brave fight. Owen heard it all an’ knew that Trapper Tom would kill tho 2ast, “Well, that’s more than I knew when I grap- pled with him,” answered the Wood Imp. * Why didn’t you come to my rescue, Owen?” ** Because Owen knowed white boy would kill the panther.” Tom made no reply. “Him no kill Young Eagle, though,” contin- ued Owen, y “Not in the cabin, If the panther hadn’t in- terfered, we would have fought it out in the cave. But what are you, Owen, red or white?” “Neither one,” and the mysterious helper laughed. ‘‘ Trapper Tom see by ’m by when light come,” “ You are Old Tomabawk’s friend?” oe Yes.” “* Where is the old Indian-hater?”’ “Tnjuns got ’m, mebbe,” “ Mountain Pete and his red pards?” ** Mebbe so.” “They'll make short work ov him.” ‘ Not so, white trapper, Tomahawk able to take care ov himself.” “T used to think I was, too; but since the events of tonight I begin to doubt my ability to do so.” To these words Owen made no reply, but seemed to be listening to the Indians who, with- out the means of making a light, were still searching the cave for Trapper Tom. The precious furs, all save the bundle carried away by Young Eagle, had been removed to the upper corridor occupied by the boy and his helper, and were safe for the time being. At last the search seemed to come to an end; the Indians were called from it by a signal, and went pell-mell from the cavern, “Safe now!” said Owen, in gratified whis- | ~ Soe as eS ee ers. ‘‘Injuns gone back to Mountain Pete, ow they think they fix Old Tomahawk, meb- be. “Can we not save him?” * Don’t know, white trapper. Owen kin try, mebbe.” For several minutes the two persons listened to the receding sounds, and neither spoke until the last ones had died away. ‘“*T would like to know how vou got into this cave?” asked Trapper Tom. ‘You did not en- ter by the cabin?” ‘TI did not, white trapper. There is another trail which Owen’s eyes discovered one day. Even Tomabawk does not know the new trail. You would not let Owen into the cabin to- night?” ““T did keep you out, didn’t I? I will be bon- est with you. [heard youand old Tomahawk conversing on the roof and—” ‘White boy suspected his old friend, eh?” in- terrupted Owen. “That is it. I said I would be honest.” ‘Old Tomahawk true as steel, though,” said Owen quickly, ‘Him no thought of betraying white beaver-hunter.” “Tm glad of that. It elevates Old Toma- hawk in my opinion.” “Owen an’ him are friends. They have hunted an’ slept togetber; but until to-night they had not met for many moons. Now shall the white boy see Owen.” The ree is took Trapper Tom’s hand as he finished and helped to lead him down the cor- ridor in which they both were, The furs at the friend’s suggestion were left behind and no pause was made until many yards had been traversed. “Has beaver hunter a match?’ suddenly asked Owen. Trapper Tom replied by producing a lucifer which he struck on the dark wall and then held up as it began to show a blaze, For a moment the form and features of Owen were not revealed, but all at once he saw them and a@ light exclamation of surprise drop- ped from his lips. Owen had told him that he was neither white nor red, and such was the fact, He was yellow, a young half-breed! A smile sat enthroned on Owen’s counte- nance while Trapper Tom inspected him from head to foot with the assistance of the match. “Tt is true! You ure neither red nor white!” he exclaimed. “Owen is part Injun, though,” was the reply. ‘There flows through his veins the blood of his Crow mother.” “Your father was a white man.” “ Yes,” “But you are prouder of your Indian blood?” “The son should love his mother best,” was the proud reply. ‘‘Owen is what you white people call a half-blood, boy trapper.” “That is no disgrace.” “Let a human being tell Owen that it is, an’ he will fall dead at his feet! Yes, my mother was a Crow—a Crow princess, the daughter of Red Antelope.” “* Your father?” y “Now let Owen’s lips be sealed,” was the =

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Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. 19 reply. ‘Did I not say that a son should love his mother best? White boy, you may see Owen meet his father one of these days. The Princess of the Crows sleeps where her son buried ber after—” The half-blood stopped suddenly as if he were on the threshold of a secret, Trapper Tom looked into his face, but did not speak, The features of Owen had suddenly darkened, his eyes were emit ing lightning flashes, and he bad clinched bis hands until his palms were cut by the sharp nails. * Owen is on a trail of vengeance!” he sud- denly proceeded in a hoarse whisper as he leaned toward the boy trapper. ‘‘He has sworn by the grave of bis Indian mother to hunt down the miserable dog who sent her to her narrow lodge under the woodland flowers! Be Owen’s friend, an’ you may see the son’s revenge. He will not leave the trail until he stands at the end of it. He would willingly fight fity panthers like the one you killed, trap- per, to meet the dog he hunts! Red will he Owen’s trail when it ends. I had no white name till I met Old Tomahawk. My Indian name was Se-ko ta, or the Leaper, for I beat all tha young Indians at the great matcb. Old Tomahawk called me Owen an’ I like the name. is mv white one, you see, given tome by one Ove. Owen the half-blood was physically more robust than Trapper Tom, but the two were about the sama age, — The yellow boy’s Lair was long, black and straight, like the hair of an Indian, and in more ways than one he showed the ancestry of which he boasted. The boy trapper’s match had gone out long before. the conclusion of Owen’s vengeful threats; but the half-breed’s looks were still im- printed on bis brain, “We will think of Old Tomahawk now,” suddenly cried Owen. ‘White trapper, you will rest here from your fight with the pan- ther,” “No! I am going with you,” said Trapper Tom with. determination, ‘‘My wounds are sligbt and do not burt me, I have wronged Old Tomahawk. I believed him treacherous. Now that I know him to be true, Iam ready to shed my blood for him, You and I, Owen, will rescue him from the clutches of the reds if they have not already finished him. My furs are safe here for the present. To Old Toma- hawk!” : ‘« An’ to vengeance!” hissed the half-breed. —— CHAPTER XI. OLD TOMAHAWK AGAIN, May we not, gentle reader, go back a little way in our narrative and detail the adventures of Old Tomahawk since his separation from ‘Trapper Tom in the gold cave? It will be remembered that shortly after the escape from the cabin, the gaunt Indian-fighter went toward the mouth of the cavern for the purpose of seeing what the savages were doing, and that soon after his departure Trapper Tom shot and killed the Sioux who entered the cave by the way Old Tomahawk had left it. The old Sioux-hater crept down the narrow corridor with a great deal of caution, and find- ing the mouth of the shaft still covered by the burned door, he ventured into the cabin, The smell of fire pervaded the entire place which was quite dark, and the old trailer be- lieved the hus wholly untenanted, He was not long, however, in discovering his mistake. He was suddenly startled by the sound of a footstep, and before he could drop back into the shaft, he was pounced upon .by four red-skins who disarmed and pinioned bim before he could offer any resistance, “Tnjun-hunter caught at last,” ejaculated the red captors in tones of rejoicing. ‘ Him bunt Sioux no more, mebbe,” ‘I don’t doubt thet, efyou greasers hev yer way,” replied Old Tomahawk, ‘‘ An’ just now, jedgin’ from sppearances, 7 t likely to hev it. Got me at last, you say? Must hev been lookin’ fer Old Tomabawk.” ‘‘Tnjuns always on lookout fer him,” was the quick response, ‘‘They no expect to find him in hut after door knocked in, Him come out ov ground, like snake.” Tke old trailer showed bis teeth in a grin, “Wal,” be said straightening up and giving his captors a look of contempt and fearlessness, ‘*Now thet you’ve corraled me, what ar’ ye goin’ ter do about it?” ‘**Tpjuns show white man.” And Old Toma- hawk was dragged from the cabin without ceremony. Just as the trailer expected, he was taken to- ward the stream whose banks were somewhat steep, and his captors halted with bim near the water's edge. “Yer white pard!” ejaculated the captive as a stalwart’ person clad in half-civilized dress and wearing a coonskin-cap came in sight, ‘‘Mountain Pete, we heven’t met fer some time.” For a moment there was no reply. The individual called Mountain Pete halted! before Old ‘Tomahawk whom he surveyed with’ eyes that fairly blazed with a desperado’s tri- umph, Mountais Pete had brought with him to the spot almost a score of Sioux warriors whose countenances told that they were ready to lay violent hands on the captive. , “Caught at last!” suddenly growled the big renegade, “Thet’s just what the reds said when they caught me,” was the reply. “ Yer grammer must be eatchin’. Permit me ter remark that I am caught at last which fact makes yer eyes twinkle.” Old. Tomahawk was looking the renegade squarely in the face, a feat not difficult of ac- complishment since five feet scarcely separated them. “ You're hated by the hull Sioux tribe,” sud- denly cried Mountain Pete. “Thar’s no mistake about thet,” answered Old Tomahawk. “You've follered us like a skulkin’ pan- : | ther,”

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20 Trapper Tom, “Just as if I hedn’ta right ter. The Sioux nation took ten years of my life from me. What don’t I owe the red dogs fer thet!” ‘‘ Whenever you could, you shot and sculped a Sioux.” “ Bet yer moccasins I did!” ** Wal, I’m a Sioux.” As he uttered this declaration Mountain Pete ‘rose on his toes to come down firmly on his heels, “When a man hits a Sioux warrior he in- sults and strikes Mountaia Pete. I am to all in- tents an’ purposes a Sioux warrior. These people ar’ my brothers,” and he described his companions with a sweep of his band. ‘‘ We have hunted, fought an’ trapped together. When you tread on my tors you bruise the corns ov the bull Sioux Confederacy an’ vice versa, I haven’t been a white man for ears. I ama Sioux Indian!” . « An’ one thet averages blamed well with the hulllot!” ejaculated Old Tomahawk. “I’ve knowed fer years, Mountain Pete, thet ye war no white man, but hang me ef I thought thar war a chap on the face ov the airth mean enough ter acknowledge thet he war a Sioux.” These words, spoken in toncs of contempt, cut to the quick, “Yes, I’m a Sioux, an’ when I became one I left mercy behind me.” 2 “T bilieve thet. WhenI saw you war goin’ ter whip the bo trapper I might hev knowed thet ye war all Injun.’ b “Whar is the boy?’ vociferated Mountain Pete. “I’m not through with the youngster yet.” “Find ’im, but don’t fool with the youngster _ much,” said Old Tomahawk, “Th whip’im to death!” “You would have done it before this ef I hed not interfered, eh?” “Thet I would,” Old Tomahawk gave the ruffian a singular kk. “Do you know who thet boy is?” he asked. “T don’t want to know. You an’ him ar’ pards; thet’s enough.” , “Pm his friend an’ I’ll inform you right bere, Mountain Pete, thet the chicken called Oid{Toma- hawk intends ‘to stand by thet boy through _ thick an’ thin.” - Mountain Pete broke out into a coarse, brutal «We're goin’ ter see thet you do not,” he ex- claimed and stepping ec gaan back he snatched a pistol from bis belt and leveled it at Old Toma- hawk’s head. = Confronted by this sudden danger the Sioux- hater did not quail. “ Thet’s a coward’s move,” he said derisively. “Big as you ar’, Mountain Pete, yer Injuns daren’t let me use my hands.” . There was murder in the bloodshot eyes of he white Sioux, and it is certain that he would have sent a pistol-bullet crashing through Old -Tomahawk’s brain if an agile young Sioux had not leaped between bim and his victim. _ White man shall have fightin’ show,” said _ the red-skin as with one stroke be severed the cords that bound Old Tomahawk’s wrists. 4A mad curse fell from the desperado’s tongue. — ‘Pll kill that Injun fer thet!” he hissed wheel- ing upon the liberator, but before he could cover the red-skin with his pistol Old Tomahawk bounded forward like an acrobat and landed with resistless force against his chest. The unexpected charge threw Mountain Pete entirely off his feet, and the two men fallin through the line of Indians landed together a the foot of the river-bank, and almost in the water, The skeleton hand of the Indian-fighter was at the giant’s throat, and the savages seeing the predicament their champion was in sprung for- ward to relieve him. But ere they could reach his side the two men struck the water, beneath which they went to- gether and locked in each other’s embrace, The somewhat startled Sioux stood nonplused on the bank watching the spot where the water had closed over the forms of Old Tomahawk and Mountain Pete, Suddenly one more solicitoug than the rest for the renegade’s safety plunged in and dis- appeared, As he did so a head was lifted above the sur- face of the water, some distance down-stream, and in the shadow of a tree-top. “1 reckon thet little chokin’ ’ll not be fergot- ten till the middie oy next week,” ejaculated the owner of the head, who was none other than Old Tomahawk. “I bed ye in my power, Mountaio Pete, an’ could hey sent you to the happy buntin’-ground oy the tribe whose reli- gion you’ve embraced, but I happened to think ov O ven an’ a few other things, an’ let you off with just half what you desarve, Thar! they’ve foun ye hev they? Now they’ll wrestle with you an’ fetch you to arter ther Injun fashion, They'll fix ye up fer future devilment, Mountain Pete, but just keep out of Old Tomahawk’s way, will yer?” Tue old Indian-hater swam under the water to the tree-top that sheltered him, and from his position he could see the Indians draw the un- conscious body of Mountain Pete from the water and gather round it with a good deal of anxiety, “Bring ’im to, fer somebody to kill; that’s right!” said Old Tomahawk, as he watched the proceedings for a few moments. ‘‘It isn’t on the boards fer Mountain Pete to die by an over- dose of water. One ov the foulest crimes ever committed in this western keatry has ter be bes. an’ ther avenger is on yer trail, ‘ete, Five minutes later the old Indian-trailer left his tree-top, and, swimming quietly down- stream, reached a shady spot, where he left the water and speedily disappeared. “Tl go back to the cave an’ jine Trapper Tom,” he said, ‘If I kin find Owen we'll make a three-hoss team thet’ll astonish the reds.” He reached the cabin by a roundabout route, and, after a careful inspection, entered at the burned-away door, It was dark and silent. raphe he his way to the little shaft leading to ina go id cave, Uld Tomahawk lowered his body into it. : He quickly made his way to the cave proper,

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where he stumbled over the mangled body of the panther killed by the Wood Imp in the des- perate encounter we bave described, “ Jehosaphat! a carved painter!” he exclaim- ed, after a moment’s inspection with his hands. “Te that boy did this he’ll do ter fight red- skins.” Then he called for Trapper Tom in cautious tones, but the only reply was the echo of his own words, The gold cave had been deserted by the boy trapper, and, after a short examination of the place, Old Tomahawk turned away. CHAPTER XII. A DISPUTED DEER. “Your eyes must bave deceived you, Owen, { see nothing.” “Owen see nothing now, either,” said the yellow-skinned boy who stood at Trapper Tom’s side in the forest the sunset following the scenes narrated in the previous chapter. ‘* But you saw something, eh?” “Yes,” replied the half-breed with confi- dence. ‘Owen saw something creep along the edge of the sky where it meets the land, White boy’s eyes ar’ good yet he saw it not,” “T must confess, Owen—” “Took! there it goes again—one! two! three!” The half-breed now held Trapper Tom’s arm in a convulsive grasp while, with the other hand, he pointed toward the distant horizon be- low which the sun had just gone down. “T thought I saw something, but I am not sure,” said the boy trapper. ‘I willingly ac- knowledge that you have the best eyes, Owen. Were the figures you saw aud counted those of men?” ‘Owen not certain, but him think so,” was the reply. ‘* Maybe more will cross the spot. Watch.” For several minutes longer the two boys stood where they had halted in the forest, but noth- ing occurred to startle the young Indian again. “May I go see?’ Le suddenly asked, looking up into Trapper Tom’s face, “Yes, but I will go with you.” “Owen go alone,” and the half-breed’s hand tightened once more on the Wood Imp’s arm. “White trapper stay here and keep his eyes open, Owen come back by an’ by.” The following moment the beaver catcher stood alone in the forest, and Owen was fast disappearing. : We need but say bere that since their adven- tures in the gold cave, the two companions had searched the vicinity of the mine for Old Toma- hawk, ‘ They had discovered plenty of fresh Indian “sign” which told them that Mountain Pete and his red-skins still hovered in the neighbor hood, and admonished them to be exceedingly cavtious. = 3 They had failed to bring to light anythin positive concerning Old Tomahawk’s fate, bu were not prepared to believe that the old fellow had been put to death by bis captors, Doubting at times, Trapper Tom often more ne > at Ras 9 — Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. 21 than half-believed that the presence of th¢ ° Sioux had frightened Old Tomahawk away, but Owen always came to the old hunter’s rescue, and defended him against the boy trapper’s im- putations, ‘ We will now go back to the boys in the orest, After O veu’s departure Trapper Tom moved vee a few paces and stationed himself against a tree, Owen, the half-breed, bad. goa. | vanished, and the last remains of day were leaving tLe Ww noise, and turning quickiy he beheld a splendid buck standing about twenty-five yards from bis position, with head erect and looking as mujes- tic as one of his species ever looked, “ Heavens! what a target!” fell involuntarily from Trapper Tom’s lips, and his rifle almost cocked itself, as it were. ‘ Never before during my life in the woods have 1 had such a chance to killa buck, Where is Owen? Out of sight, of course. I cannot let tbis opportunity slip.” The boy’s rifle struck bis shoulder as he fin- ished the last sentence, and bis ruddy cheek onpret to the polished stock, The deer never noved, but stood still as if ex- pecting the deadly skot, Suddenly the stillness of the forest was broken by the sharp report of the boy’s rifle, and the noble animal sprung into the air to fall back to earth, quivering in the ogonies of death, Trapper Tom stood in his tracks a moment efter the shot, then, whipping out bis knife, he bounded toward the deer with a hunter’s enthu- siasm. The animal) had fallen at the edge of a dense little thicket of young trees, from which it bad emerged a few mcments before the fatal shot, The boy trapper reached the spot in a few bounds, and immediately drove his knife into the buck’s throat. “ Well done, boy; but that deer b’longs ter me! At these words Trapper Tom leaped to his feet, and then recoiled a pace at sight of the man by whom he was confronted. ‘*Mountain Pete!” ejaculated the Wood Imp, recognizing in the stalwart figure, dark face and broad shoulders of the individual before him his merciless old enemy. ‘‘That’s who I am!” was the gruff rejoinder. “When I say that deer’s mine, I mean it, Just examine tother side the carkiss an’ you'll find a bullet-hole in the beart.” “But I shot him!” persisted Tom. * An’ didn’t I?” Mountain Pete supplemented his interrogative with a coarse laugh, that sent the hot blood tingling to Trapper Tom’s finger-tips. The giant was standing with one foot on the carcass of the buck, and he looked down with disdain and contempt upon the boy so mucb bis inferior in stature. Still the little trapper did not quail. If there was a bullet in the buck’s heart, then he and Mountain Pete had fired together, and tbe deer had fallen stricken by two balls, oes affairs had happened before; why not now All at once Trapper Tom heard a bounctng’ is ‘ *s a) Sa

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eet my hissed. * Ain’t you goin’ ter give up?” suddenly asked the white Sioux. ‘This ar’ my buck, an’ I pro- pose ter hev it!” ‘*- You see my bullet-hole,” said Trapper Tom, ponding to the bloody wound in the stag’s reast, e * An’ T’ll show you mine.” Suiting action to his words, Mountain Pate suddenly stooped and overturned the carcass with an ease that astonished the boy trapper. “What d’ yer call thet?” he cried pointing in triumph to a byjlet-wound in the carcass just behind the fore-shoulder. Trapper Tom stepped forward and inspected the place. “Give i6 up now, eh?” continued the forest Hercules. ‘‘Now, my young clipper, make yerself scarce. You know me. I’m the sinner who war goin’ ter trim yer down when Old Tomahawk came up an’ interrupted the pro- ceedin’s. The next time I’ll whip you raw!” Trapper Tom’s eyes flashed at this threat, and his cheeks crimsoned. “Don’t redden and shoot me with yer eyes!” resumed Mountain Pete. ‘‘I mean just what I say, an’ no man ever caught this daisy in a lie. Yes, when I want you I'll tie you up an’ wear out on you the toughest sticks in the woods, Nk next time Old Tomahawk will not inter- cre, “Try it, Mountain Pete!” cried the boy beaver-bunter. ‘I am here now and I call you the meanest thing that ever walked ground—a white Indian! You boast that you have turned Sioux, I hear. When you went to their lodges you only souxht your level. A meaner thing than a renegade never crawled the earth!” With an oath Mountain Pete strode forward, and his right foot landed on the carcass of the disputed buck. “Pll whip you now, weasel!” he madly “Til give you a blood-red jacket by which to remember Mountain Pete, the white Sioux.” Already the daring beaver-catcher had raised his rifle, and was standing his ground like a _ Spartan, “You whip me, dog of a Sioux? I guess not!” _ Tl do it or die!” The next second the huge form of Mountain Pete descended like an avalanche upon,:.the Wood Imp, but at the same time down came the clubbed rifle! Trapper Tom struck with all his might. The blow staggered the renegade who tried to break its force by throwing up his arms, but oe their protection, he went backward. with a half-smothered curse. Trapper Tom saw the effect of his blow and followed up his success. “He leaped upon the carcass of the deer and followed his first stroke with another that seemed to complete the battle, for the forest outlaw fell backward insensible. Without leaving his somewhat elevated station, Trapper Tom surveyed his work for a few moments, “What. will Owen say if I have killed the wretch?” he asked. himself in audible tones. ‘His infamous words made me strike with all Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp, my might. I guess he will not whip me as he expected.” The beaver-hunter stooped over the senseless giant, and soon satisfied himself that bis blows bad not deprived bim of life, then taking Moun- tain Pete’s. knife from his belt and thrusting it into bis own, be sprung over the carcass and hurried away. Some distance away he encountered Owen. “White boy shoot?’ were the half-breed’s first words, ‘Yes. Come and see what I have done,” The two boys went back to the tragic spot, The deer was-there, but Mountain Pete was gone! aoe CHAPTER XIII. A WOOD FULI. OF RED-SKINS, STANDING by the carcass of the buck, Trap- per J’om related his adventures to the half-breed boy. ‘* White trapper no kill Mountain Pete an’ Owen is glad,” exclaimed the listener at the conclusion of the narrative. “For your sake I am glad, too. the villain so, Owen.” The half-breed’s eyes seemed to flash. An examination of the spot where the forest Hercules had fallen before Trapper Tom's clubbed rifle showed that no blood hsd been spilled, and the twain concluded that Mountain Pete had managed to get away not much hurt. ‘*We fiand bim by’m by,” said Owen, some- what disappointed.. ‘Him no get awayévery time.” “T trust he will not. [iam more than con- vinced that Mountain Pete is one of the measest men the great Northwest ever produced.” Tue half-breed boy now told the young bea- ver-catcher that his reconnoissanc> had re- vealed the fact that the moving figures be had seen were those of Indians, undoubtedly Sioux, and Mountain Pete’s red companions. *““We must find out what has become of O!1 Tomahawk,” said the boy trapper. “If the fiends have made ’way with him, they shall suf- fer for it. If he is still alive and in their power, he shall be rescued, ‘I am for fighting the red- skins to the last gasp.” The last word had ‘scarcely left the boy’s lips ere the report of a nifle awoke the echos of the forest, and a bullet whistled between the heads of the two boys. ’ Instantly they whirled toward the direction from which the unexpected shot had come, and send ready with rifles cocked for a sight of the 08. The shades of night had again fallen through- out the 'wood, and objects could not be distia- guished at very great distances, . , Both Trapp2r Tom and Owen believed that they owed their safety to the gathering darkness as it bad undoubtedly spoiled the would be slayer’s aim, : '“Tt was an Indian!” said the half-breed. is “Or Mountain Pete,” suggested Trapper ‘om. ‘*No; red-skin,” persisted Owen. Just then the young beaver-catcher thought he saw a figure glide from tree to tree in his front, and quickly his rifle sought his shoulder, You hate — —

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eer But at asign from Owen he withheld his fire and it was well enough that he did for the gliding figure had already disappeared. The reader can imagine the suspense with which the two boys awaited the next move- ment of their foes. That they were seen by Indians was now cer- tain, and their only fear was that the red-skins would surround them, There was great danger of this catastrophe, as the wood was quite dark, and they would have to depend on their ears alone. The companions bad taken up their station bebind two trees that stood close together where, with rifles prepared for any emergency, they were ready for the conflict. All at once a rifle sung out clearly behind them, and a bullet buried itself in the bark of Trapper Tom’s tree within two inches of his head. “We are surrounded!” he exclaimed. ‘ As sure as fate, Owen, the red devils have encir- cled us.” This was just what the two boys did not de- sire, and the only turn of affairs they really feared, They could imagine the living circle contract- ing in the gloom, and the red-skins crawling upon them like panthers, scarcely disturbing a leaf as they advanced. What was to be done? The shot from behind had told the youths that the enemy was in their rear, Should they attempt to creep the lines? This was an undertaking from which the bravest might sbrink; but it really seemed their only chance, After the shot from behind, Trapper Tom and Owen crouched at the foot of their trees, and then lay flat on the ground. While in this posture they put their heads to- gether in a council of war in whispers, “We must not stay here,” said the Wood Imp. ‘‘ This spot will be too hot to hold us five minutes from now.” “We must creep like snakes through this cir- cle,” said Owen in reply. “Tf it is our only ecbance, I’m in for it.” Thus briefly the council ended, but the boys did not get upon their feet. The stillness that now filled the forest seemed the portentous silence that often precedes a storm. If the boys had listened they might have heard the beating of their own hearts, “Ready, now—come!” fell in whispers on Trapper Tom’s ears, and he felt the silken fin- gers of Owen, the half-breed, at his wrist. Now began the perilous crawl, the object of which was to get beyond the Indian lines and effect their escape back to the gold cave, which they knew could be readily defended against a larce party of red-skins. The young friends kept close together, al- most head to heel, for Owen. led the way, with Trepper Tom following close after. Life in the wood soon renders one cautious and wary. : In ashort time the hunter learns the habits of the animals he has to contend with, and readily imitates them; his footstep becomes as noiseless as the tread of the panther, and he Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. 23 creeps through the forest without snapping a twig, though the ground be covered -with em, Thus it was with Owen and Trapper Tom. Both knew the ways of wooderaft, for among the trees in the wild lands of Indian and bear they bad passed their best days. Trapper Tom had never attempted to creep Indian lines before, but he had stolen upon the wariest game, and this experience stood him well now. Like cheetahs stealing through the forest with bellies near the ground, the two boys moved along, scarcely disturbing a leaf or moving a mie ‘The reds possess sharp ears if they hear us,” thought Trapper Tom, ere they bad proceeded a hondred yards. “I am sire that an owl's eye could not single us out. A few more yards—” The owl that flew from her perch with a frightened cry at this juncture broke the strain of the boy’s self-congratulations. An owl bad seen them, and his hoot might be understood by the redskins. Owen ground bis teeth at tke flight of the bird, but said nothing, keeping on, with Trap- per Tom’s coor-skin cap at his beels. Suddenly the balf-breed paused, and the next moment Trapper Tom was at his side with ‘silence for his question, ‘*Somethin’ comin’ this way,” said Owen in the lowest of whispers. “My God! no!” ejaculated Trapper Tom. ‘Comin’ sure,” was the reiteration, ‘ Let white trapper listen while be bolds bis breatb.” The render may be sure that Trapper Tom did listen. and after a moment’s silence he clutched Oweu’s wrist, “You are right. Something, whether man or beast Ido not know, is coming straight to- ward us, It is not thirty yards away at this minute.” “We part, then. White boy, go to tree on your right; Owen will take left one, We let Injun or panther through.” he boys lost no time in ripe a and presently a path was cleared for the mystericus crawler, . On he came, stopping at intervals,as it seemed, to listen a moment, Owen bad changed his rifle to bis Jeft band and clutched a knife in bis right, Trapper Tom had followed his example, and thus the boy friends waited for the enemy, Nearer and nearer came thecrawler, undoubt- edly a human being, and of conrse of the red band by whom they were surrounded, How the boys strained their eyes as the slight noise made by the night crawler announced bis approach! At last they caught a glimpse of a man’s figure; it was darker than the ground and thus showed its outlines. Owen dropped his rifle without noise and raised his bunting-knife. ‘““Injun go by safe if be will,” he muttered. — “Tf him find us out, Injun dies!” Trapper Tom had formed the same resolution, for he, too, had dropped his rifle and held hig knife ready for a spring upon the creeper, i : an id nee Stak te

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Another minute of suspense was passing away when the crawler reached a spot exactly be- tween the two boys. The crisis had come, * To the horror of the two watchers, thecrawler halted there and looked around as if he sus- pected their presence, ori git up an’ stretch my limbs a minute,” they suddenly heard the crawler say, above a whisper, and in the coarse voice of the old frontiersman, and the next minute the gaunt figure left the ground and straightened before them. Almost at the same moment the two boys sprung erect, ‘Old Tomahawk! thank Heaven!” burst from Trapper Tom’s throat, as bis hands and Owea’s, too, fell on the man’s arms and heli him to the spot. Old Tomahawk tho crawler was, and nota red-skin, as they had suspected. ‘*What ar’ ye doin’ here?” asked the old fel- low. ‘ I thought you war further towards the middle of the circle.” “We were a while ago; but we are trying to creep out.” “How? I guess it’s easier creepia’ in than out.” -“Then we are really surrounded?” “Wal, [should remark. I had to choke one Sioux buck to death afore I could git inside. We’il hev to choke a dozen, mebbe, afore we git out. * Are they so numerous?” Old Tomahawk was silent for a moment. “ Boy,” he suddenly said, ‘it looks to ma like we war surrounded by Sittin’ Bull’s hull tribe. The woods ar’ full ov’em. If thar’s one, thar’s five hundred!” This was doleful nows, CHAPTER XIV. THRILLING ADVENTURES, As the reader will suspect, there was another whispered consultation over the news brought by Old Tomahawk. This time three persons instead of two took part in the council, and it was decided to con- tinue the advaace, Old Tomahawk said that he feared that his presence had been suspected by the wily red- skins which, if be was correct, would render the advance more perilous than befor». , Dropping to the earth again, the trio crept forward, led this time by the gaunt Indian- fizhter. Owen the half-breed crept at his heels, and Trapper Tom brought up the rear, For some distance nothing occurred to disturb the movement, and the boy trapper began to congratulate himself on their success. “ We must have advanced beyond their lines,” he said to himself. ‘* Why does not Oli Toma- hawk get up and announce that we are safe?” The wily old scalper knew that the danger line had not been passed, and that was why he bad not risen fo his feet and tickled Trapper Tom’s ears with the announcement he wanted to hear, Suddenly there rung through the forest a, yell Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. ~ so fierce and yiercing that the three crawlers instantly came to a halt, All knew that it came from the throat of an Indian brave, and as Trapper Tom turned his face in the direction fro: which the sound came he thought the saw the luuian crouching at the foot of a tree. “Look yonder!” he whispered at Old Toma- hawk’s ear as he grasped the scalper’s arm, “ What is it, boy?” “The Indian who just hallooed.” **T don’t see ’im, bar is the red greaser?” *t Crouched at the foot of yon tree,” and Trap- per Tom designated the tree with outstretched hand, The old woodsman strained his eyes for a mo- ment and then shook his head, ‘No Injun thar, boy.” “ But L see him,” persisted Tom, ‘‘ Thet’s a knot at the foot ov the tree; I see it now.” “Then it’s a living knot.” ‘Pil go an’ see.” Before either of the boys could detain Old Tomabawk he bad crept away, and they saw him approaching the tree a few yards away and just discernible. “Tf they fight we are gone,” whispered Trap- per Tom ‘The noise of the combat will give our positioa away, and we will be surrounded in less than two minutes,” The figure of the old scalper moving like a snake over the surface of the ground soon passed out of sight, but Trapper Tom kept his eyes on the object at the foot of the tree. All at once he saw the ‘‘ knot” leap from the ground, and a human figure sprung noiselessly upon it. No sounds followed the meeting of red and vrbite, and several minutes afterward Old Toma- hawk appeared to the boys again. “ Taet knot war alive, sure enough, Trapper Tom,” he said, with a smile as he held up a reeking scalp to Tom’s gaze. ‘' Just what made the Injun give thet yell will never be known, I guess. Sart?in it is thet he saw us crawlin’ through their lines,” Trapper Tom wanted to ask the old scalper whether they were not almost through the In- lian tines, but he was not given the chance, as O!1 Tomahawk put himself at tha head of the li ‘9 line again and resumed the advance. His orders enjoining strict silence told the Wood nr that they were still on dangerous ground. For thirty minutes more the crawl was con- tinued and then Old Tomahawk stood erect. “At last!” ejaculated Trapper Tom, spring- ing up. ‘‘ We have emerged from the jaws of death.” The response was a loud shout from Indian lips, and the whiz of a dozen arrows, Oven whirled half-way round with a ery of pain and Tom’s cap was carried from his bead, “We're not out yet,’ said Old Tomahawk, “Bless me! ef we hevn’t halted in a reg’lar In- jun nest.” The whole wood now resounded with war- cries of the most ferocions nature, They were terrible enough to strike doom to the hearts of the listeners,

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Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp, ‘We've got to run for it, boys,” said Old Tomabawk. ‘* Straight ahead?” asked Tom, “Phet’s the course. Ar’ you hurt bad, Owen?” “Only an arrow through my arm. I will pay the reds for this!” was the grated answer, Meanwhile, Trapper Tom was looking on the ground for bis cap, an article which he prized very bigbly. ‘Let yer cap go,” said the old trapper, ‘‘ Yer scalp ’s worth « thousand coonskin caps,” At this moment Trapper Tom found his cap which was transfixed by a Sioux arrow, show- ing how narrowly te had escaped death. “ Now for the run!” cried Old ‘tomahawk. “Keep behind me, If I am fif y-twv, 4 guess [ kin lead the party.” Away bounded the Indian-hater with Owen and Trapper Tom a his heels, The break for liberty was observed by the red-skins who seemed to possess the eyes of nighthawks, ‘be whole foresi again resounded with and another flight of arrows accompanied few rifle-balls, followed the dash. Then the maddened Sioux sprung after the intrepid three who ran with all their might, feeling the importance of the race, ; They leaped over logs shown by the dim light of the moon and dashed through little thickets with the nerve of hunted deer, ali the time hearing behind them the wild yells of their pursuers, **My God! Injuns ahead!” fell suddenly in accents the most startling from Old Toma- bawk’s lips i He had scarcely spoken ere a dozen_ rifles flished in their very faces and the bullets seemed to shriek as they whistled past the trappers’ heads, “Down!” commanded Old. Tomahawk, and the harassed three dropped immediately to the ground, Fortunately they had reached a s two fallen trees lay close together an sort of gatural fort. j Dropping into the inclosure the trio got ready to repel an assault, and then awaited events. Like magic the forest suddenly grew still, so still that no one would bave suspected that it contained a foe as wily and bloodthirsty as an Indian brave. ‘““Where are we?’ whispered Trapper Tom, at Old Tomahawk’s elbow. * Between two trees.” “T know that; but—” “Wal, we're in a pretty bad predicament; thet?s about the emount ov if.” Tom bit bis lips; the old scalper’s answers were so unsatisfactory. 4 5 “ White boy pull arrow ou‘ of Owen’s arm, said the half breed at this juncture. | ‘* Head broke off—see? Owen sbut his teeth while white trapper pull.” Sovetinaen were at the Indian shaft that had pierced the boy’s arm and he began to pull. Owen’s eyes flashed as the arrow was with- drawn, and be ground his teeth until it bad been pulled through the wound. “ Arrow out now,” he said, ‘‘ Arm already ells ya t where formed a feels better. boy’s help.” ‘Just as if I didn’t owe you this favor.” said Tom, remembering the half-breed’s valuable services rendered in the gold cave, ‘* Were I to help you a thousand times I would not have canceled the debt I owe you.” oy this time Old Tomahawk had inspected the forest fort which promised to conceal them from the bullets and arrows of the red-skins, especially as long as the night held out. aylignt would bring new peril to the be- sieged, but the Sioux-heter hoped to te far be- yond the heaps cers fort long tefore dawn. The trees had fallen in a manner that pro- vided each end of the fort with a thick busby top almost impenetrable, while the logs them- selves formed a breastwork that promised val- uable assistance in case of attack. *There’s something in yon top,” said Trapper Tom to Owen, who was rursing the new bate that bad followed the withdrawal of thearrow. ‘*Guess not, white boy.” “You may not have beard it, for not listening,” was Tcm’s reply. “ that my ears have not ceceived me. to see what it is.” Armed only with his hunting-knife, which he carried unsheathed in his right hand, Trapper Tom crept on all-fours toward the tree-top where he was certain he had heard a suspicious noise. As he was not compelled to pass Old Toma- hawk on his way, be was not stopped by that worthy’s skeleton hand, and he soon reached the bushy boughs where he halted and listened. Could it be that bis ears bad deceived him, and that be had imagined what he had not really heard? For several moments be listened without bear- ing a sound, and he was about to go back to Owen and confess that for once he had been de- ceived, when a slight rustling among the leaves made him draw back, “T was not mistaken,” he said to himself, “The Indians have already entered our fort,” The rustling which had startled him con- tinued instead of dying away and all at once an object, buge, black and ferocious, sprung from the tree top and landed almost upon the crouch- ing boy! The outburst was sudden enough to drawa ery of horror from Trapper Tom’s ae He sprung up in time to escape a blow from a gixantle arm, but not too late to be charged, by the new enemy. “My God! a grizzly!” exclaimed the Wood Imp in tones that must have reached the enemy sneaking tbrough the forest. ‘“ Better a dozen red skins than a foe like this.” Old Tomahawk and Owen went forward to Trapper Tom’s assistance for they knew the nature of the onslaught even before the aston- ished beaver-catcher bad named the new foe. “A bar it is!” cried the gaunt trailer, = Stand off, Trapper Tom, an’ let me at Old ‘ph.”” But Trapper Tom, even if ho wished to obey Old Tomahawk, found bimself in a position that forced him to stand and fight. a , The grizzly had advanced upon him, standing Owen will never forget white ou were am sure I'm going

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erect upon his hinder feet, and resembling a mountain of ferocity. Trapper Tom saw his little eyes shining in the moonlight that struggled down through the trees, and then the monster reached him! The terrible paws seemed to take him into their deadly embrace, and the distended jaws of the monster appeared a veritable cave of death. The menaced boy had scarcely a second left for reflection. Retreat he could not, for the grizzly was actually upon him, therefore, shutting his teeth hard he raised his khife and aimed a blow at the bear’s breast. We need not say that Trapper Tom put all the sirengtn he could command into that stroke, The knife hit the very spot aimed at, and the keen blade disappeared beneath the thick hide of the grizzly. An instant later the boy found himself in the embrace of the bear, and that before he could withdraw his knife. Old Tomahawk and Owen came up at this moment. “Help! help!” pealed from the boy trapper’s throat, The Indian-fighter uttered a mad cry as he shot straight at the page ‘¢ Assail ’im on t’other side, Owen,” he said to the half-breed, who sprung to obey the com- mand almost before it was uttered. Tous attacked by two knives at once, the grizzly found himself ia an unpleasant predica- ment, and when Old Tomahawk had driven his long-bladed hunting-knife home, directly behind the fore-shoulder, he released Trapper Tom and atage ered back. A Old Tomahawk followed him up with a mad exclamation of vengeance, Just then a loud voice came from the forest on the right. ‘* Will the white-faces surrender? The Sioux have them in a pen.” “Wait till I’ve settled this b’ar!” answered Old Tomahawk, 2 CHAPTER XV. THE FIGHT FOR THE FORT. TRAPPER Tom had fallen from the bear’s em- brace apparently more dead than alive. He was insensible, and did not hear the de- mand from the shadows of the wood nor Old ‘Tomahawk’s answer. Owen picked him up and carried him toward the spot where he had left his rifle, while the Indian-fighter followed the grizzly, which had fallen with a crash into the tree-top. The old fellow seemed to forget the proximity of the Indians in his eagerness to finish the monster which had almost put a period to his young friend’s existence. With a courage that bordered on foolhardi- ness he leaped into the foliage and grappled with the dying grizzly. Thick and fast rained. the blows, guided by the old backwoodsman’s keen eye; and when he came forth, with claw-torn coat and bleeding face, there was the flash of victory ino his eyes, Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. “Another grizzly less!” he ejaculated. “I never leave one job, afore I’m through with it, to’tend to another. I wouldn’t exchange the iy ov a grizzly tussle fer a gold-mine, ow fer the Injuns.” He left the spot and walked toward Owen and the beaver-catcher, who were found in the middle of the fort. Trapper Tom had nearly recovered from the hug of the grizzly, and greeted Oid Tomahawk with a faint smile as the latter came up. “Thar’s no sweetheart tiet kin hug like a grizzly,” observed the old Indian-hater. ‘‘T cal- kerlate thet he'll show his affection to no more people this side of grizzly paradise.” ‘* He's dead, then?” “Dead? I can’t just now remember when I left a yrizzly in any other condition. Dead? Dead as last summer’s flowers! Ov course you heard what the Injuns said a few moments ago?” “Yes; they want us to surrender.” “The fools! I told ’em ter wait till I had set- tled Old Eph. Hevin’ done thet little job, ’m now ready fer ther reds.” Since Old Tomahawk’s reply to the demand for surrender the surrounding forest had been unusually still, ‘*They’re waitin’ with more patience ’nI ever knowed a red-skin ter possess,” remarked the old fellow to his boy companions, ‘I’m goin’ ter play fair with the greasers. Here goes.” Raising his head slightly above the log breastwork Old Tomahawk shouted: ** Reds, the b’ar is dead, If I didn’t misun- derstand you awhile ago, you asked us ter sur- render.” The wale was not delayed. “The Sioux spoke to the pale-faces through their leader. They have the white hunters in a pen, and the braves of the Sioux nation sur- round them, If they shut their ears against the words of the braves. they will not see the sun go to sleep any more.” ‘* All ov which means thet we'll be tetotally wiped out ef we don’t give in right away,” said Old Tomahawk. ‘Do you hear thet» boys! The Injuns say they’ve got us in a pen without the asad ov a chance fer safety. hat shall I say Owen whose eyes showed the defiance that rankled in his breast was about to reply when Trapper Tom spoke: “Tell the red varmints no!” cried the little beaver-catcher. ‘‘No compromise with a lot of rascally Sioux. Surrender means death—lin- ering, torturing death—sooner than a brave de- ense, We havea good fort here, I say fight it out!” Old Tomahawk’s eyes glowed with pride and satisfaction while the boy spoke. “Fight it is,’ he said as be turned away, “War to the knife!” cried Owen the half- breed. “Trapper Tom took Owen’s words from his tongue, and spoke them like a brave.” Certain sounds told that the savages were _ becoming impatient. : ‘* We've decided not ter surrender,” sudden! called out Old Tomahawk and then ducked his head, admonishing Trapper Tom and Owen to lie close to the ground.

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eee fe Pe The boys quickly threw themselves on the earth, and in the nick of time, too, for the next second a thundering volley of rifles seemed to shake the whole wood, and a perfect hail- storm of bullets buried itself in the logs, or passed harmlessly over the heads of the pros- trate trio, ‘*May be they'll charge us,” suggested Trap- per Tom. “Thet’s not the Sioux’s tactics when tbey’re on foot,” was the quick reply. ‘‘ Let ’em strad- dle their hosses; then look out, My opinion is thet they 11 try some sneakin’ trick afore mornin’,” The night was now nearly half gone, and Old Tomahawk and his companions were still con- fined to the natural fort. “1d just like to know how many Injuns ar’ out thar, an’ whether they’ve got us completely surrounded as they say they bave,” said the old scalper suddenly, ‘'I b’lieve ’ll reconnoiter,” **T object to that,” said Trapper Tom quickly. “You can’t be spared from the fort just at this time. We all stay here.” “By hokey! you talk like you’re the captain oy this squad!” returned Old Tomahawk with a grim.) * What do you say, Owen?” “T guess not. Trapper Tom, thet yaller boy is not in the fort.” This announcement sent a thrill of surprise through the beaver-catcher’s frame. The fort was immediately searched for Owen the half-breed; but he was not to be found. * Hang me if he hasn’t gone to reconnoiter!” exclaimed the backwoodsman. “If I had crawled out, Tom, you'd have been the only defender of the fort. What took thet young fox off in thet sudden manner? Mebbe he wants to diskiver whether Mountain Pete’s among the reds out thar.” There was no use in looking for Owen who had certainly left the fort at this critical junc- ture, and hoping that be would turn up all right before day, Old Tomahawk and Trapper Tom resolved to watch with both eyes open till that event should take place. An hour of strange silence, strange for that time and place, fellowed Owen’s departure. The deafening volley which bad torn through the limbs had not been followed by another, and Old Tomahawk had a right to conclude from the stillness that the Sioux would attempt some stratagem. The openings or glades of the forest were faintly discernible in the moonlight, and though the occupants of the log fort watched them intently they could notsee the first sign of a foe, Lower and lower sunk the moon as the night wore away, and the entire forest gradually be- came one shade of darkness. ‘* Look out now,” admonished Old Tomahawk. “Them o'nery red-skins out yonder love to do their work in the darkness. Mebbe all at once they’ll pour over these logs like an army ov rats. My command is: ‘Keep your eyes peeled)’” ‘ Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. 27 ——— Trapper Tom, fully alive to the importance of the hour, assured his companion that his watch- fulness should not for one moment be abated and with finger on the trigger he waited on, Almost continually he thought of Owen be- tween him and whom a strong attachment had sprung up, and he longed to see the daring young half-breed once more at his side. Would the morning bring Owen, or would it find them one and all lying dead and scalped in the forest fort? Suddenly Trapper Tom -felt a hand on his arm, and turning half-way round he bebeld the bronzed face of Old Tomahawk, There was startling information in the old Indian-fighter’s eyes, , “You ain’t asleep, Tom?” he asked. “ No.” ‘Don’t make any noise, but look straight over the log. It’s gittin’ daylight, but for all thet, the Injuns hey come.” Without reply, Trapper Tom looked over the tree and saw that the wood was getting lighter, but slowly; the change was just perceptible. “My stars! they are here, sure enough!” cried the boy trapper. ‘Those objects I see scattered over the ground are not limbs, but Indians.” . * An’ each one expects to hev the honor ov scalpin’ us!” said Old Tomahawk, coolly. ‘* But T see one buck what shall never touch a ba’r ov my head.” Trapper Tom saw the Indian-fighter’s rifle glide over the top of the log, while his bead and shoulders were screened from the red-skin’s view by dead leaves. ““What! are you going to begin the battle?” he asked. **Nothin’ more nor less, I’m goin’ ter begin the dance ov death,” - ‘They'll charge us if you fire,” “Let ’em charge.” Trapper Tom saw Old Tomahawk’s cheek drop to the stock of his rifle, but the following moment a shot, beyond the Indian line and in the depths of the forest, rung clearly out. He saw the figure of a prostrate red-skin leap into the air, with a cry that made the back- woods ring, and then fall dead among his com- anions. “‘ Jehosapbat! who did thet?” exclaimed Old Tomahawk, as the crawling Sioux sprung up with terrible yells. ‘Here they come! Give them the best you’ve got, Tomahawk!” These words from veneer Tom’s lips were not needed to make the bear-killer fight. The Indian army was rushing upon the fort, brandishing their tomahawks and scalping- knives. ' ‘Give the demons their dues!” called out Old Tomahawk, The next second the repeating-rifles of the two companions were laid across the logs, and the charging Sioux were met by a fire that sent many to the ground. In addition to the fire from the fort, some person behind the Indians was emptying the magazine of a Wiuchester with deadly effect {into their red ranks,

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Trapper Tom, Trapper Tom suddenly caught sight of the help outside, and uttered a shout. 1t was Owen, the half-breed! The Sioux seemed dazed by the terrific fire that thinned their ranks, If they had attacked the fort from both sides, their success would have been certain and speedy, but they chose to assault it from a sin- gle point, hence their destruction. With sixteen shots apiece Old Tomahawk and Trapper Tom met them, with a determination to conquer or die behind the logs. They worked the repeating rifles with deadly effect. : Some of the red-skins came within twenty yards of the fortification, but never got nearer. The avenging rifls singled them out and dropped them in their tracks. All at once ths red-skins turned and present- ed their backs to the defenders of the fort, and Owen fired two shots straight into their faces. s Whipped ! cried Trapper Tom. ‘ Hurrah! hurrah!’ Yes, the battle was over. CHAPTER XVI. THE YELLOW BOY’S VENGEANCE, “Trmr’s what I call a close shot,” said Old Toma- hawk, as the discomfitved Sioux ‘drew off, leaving him and Trapper Tom in undisturbed possession of the forest fort. ‘Ef — hev retreated, they’re likely to trouble us more. Mountain Pete hasn’t got enough yet ef he is among the reds. He'll put ‘em up to more deviltry afore night ef Owen doesn't get ths drop on his mug.” Turning from the fort, the Sioux turned their at- tention to the half-breed who had gotten in the rear, and from a slightly elevated position poured some deadly shots into their ranks. The boy heard their mad yells as they sprung to- ward him, but he did not desert his position until he had dropped*two more with his unerring rifle. “Now for it, Owen,” he said to himself, as he tightened his belt and darted away with the agility of the practiced runner, while at least fifty red-skins pursued, Old Tomahawk and the Wood Imp saw the hot chase, and watched pursuers and pursued disappear over a wooded knoll, “They ll run him down!” exclaimed Trapper Tom, excitedly. “*T'd like to see ‘em do it. I know thet boy,” was the Indian-fighter’s prompt response. ‘‘They’ll all come back arter awhile crestfallen an’ pretty well blown, Catch Owen? No red:skin on top ov ground kin do thet.”* These words reassured Tom and rendered him easy as to the peril that menaced the half-breed. Te therefore turned his attention to the little bat- tle-ground over which the Sioux had attempted to reach the fort. Tae Indians ontheir retreat had carried away sev- eral dead and wounded, but a dozen of the former still incumbered the ground, their painted faces up- turned toward the boughs, and their eyes staring at the patches of cold, clear sky far beyord. It was a sight to which the boy trapper was not accustomed, and seeing that Old Tomahawk was a0 ag him cautiously, he turned to him witha le. ; _ * More dead Injuns out thar then you ever saw at once, eh?’ said the Indian-hater. “‘They’re all ood reds now. When I get half a chance, I'll add my stock ov scalps fer I know the ones I brought down; I’ve marked ’em all.” “How many scalps have you now?” the Wood Imp. ‘* Haven't counted ’em for three months, an’ dur- in’ thet time I reckon I’ve got in some work,” “When will you rest?”’ “When some red drops me, I expect. You see, Trapper Tom, them red devils robbed me ov ten years ov life, an’ I’m tryin’ ter pay ’em what I owe em. Ov course I’ve found the lost gold eave an’ all thet; but thet doesn’t fetch back them lost ten years. Ef I live an’ keep my health, thar’ll be only a remnant ov the Sioux nation left ter bother Uncle Sam when I git through.” Trapper Tom made no reply, for his attention was directed to a movement among the boughs of a tree almost beyond rifle-shot. “What is it, boy?” asked Old Tomahawk seeing the boy’s attention fixed on the tree. “ An Indian, I think,’’ was the answer. Without difficulty the Indian-fighter was shown the tree noticed by the Wood Imp, and for several minutes he watched it intently with a cocked rifle in his hand. . “Thet red-skin is tryin’ to git above us fer a shot,” he said. “Ef we let him git inter position one ov us will drop quicker than we kin say Jack Robin- son. I'll just puta period to thet buck’s career. Now watch ‘im drop.’ Old Tomahawk’s rifle was now at his shoulder, and covering an object in the distant tree he touch- ed the trigger. As the clear report of the weapon rung through the aisles of the forest something was seen to drop downward through the boughs and all at once an Indian landed in a heap on the ground. ‘““No more strategy for thet red!’ ejaculated Old Tomahawk, glancing at Trapper Tom with a smilo. The dead Indian was not permitted to lie more than a minute where he had fallen, for several red- skins darted from behind trees that concealed their bodies, and dragged the corpse out of sight. Old Tomahawk burst into a fit of laughter at the immoderate haste of the red-skins who whisked their unfortunate companion away, and then kept their own bodies from the Indian-fighter’s unerring aim, As the morning advanced the forest became lighter, and at sunrise one could see a great distance among the trees, “The Indians have not returned from chasing Owen,” observed Trapper Tom. At that moment a distant yell was heard, then another and another until the whites bad counted seven, “ They’ve caught him, by hokey!” exclaimed Old Tomahawk. “Who? Owen?” “Who else? Those yells mean thet the reds ar’ returnin’ with a prisoner. I counted on the boy ettin’ away, fer I’ve seen him run afore. Some- hing must hev happened to him. We'll see di- rectly.” A commotion among the Indians in the forest in front of the fort was now observable, and Old Toma- hawk and the Wood Imp turned their faces toward that part of the wood from whence the seven yells had come. Three hours had elapsed since Owen’s departure, chased by fifty yelling red Indians, and now he was coming back, no doubt to be tortured to death in the presence of his friends! , Presently figures were seen moving toward the fort, and then the savages stationed behind the trees set up yells of delight. “They've run my young deer down, sure enough!” grated Old Tomahawk as he eyed the advancing h::- diaus in ill humor, “ By the eternal! if they harm ahair ov his head in my presence, somebody will suffer for it.” In less than five minutes the occupants or the fort observed Owen the half-breed walking erect in the —— of the triumphant Indians, who watched him closely. “We must save him!” cried Trapper Tom, = . ” =< ae reer Sh er rk ae ie abt Ge nee

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~~ Ra het “Owen shall not be tortured to death by those red demons.” “Ov course he sha'n't; pas ase hold yer peace,” said Old Tomahawk, who h not taken his eyes from the advancing band for a moment. ‘Owen an’ me hey sworn to be friends till death, an’ ter stand by one another through thick an’ thin. An’ don’t we intend to do thet? Ah! Trapper Tom, Owen shall not die!” The captors of the yellow boy were soon joined by the Indians who had remained behind, and the whole formed a large crowd just beyond rifle-shot. Old Tomahawk and Trapper Tom strained their eyes as they looked on, wondering what would be the red-skins’ next move. If they could have advanced nearer, they would have observed that the face and clothes of Owen the half-breed were sadly torn by briers, as if he had attempted to force his way through a patch of them, He presented a sorry picture as he stood sur- rounded by the red-skins who wanted his blood; but the fire in his eyes was uncimmed, and his stature se»med to have increased since his captors, There was at first a disposition on the part of the Sioux who had not joined in the chase to rush upon Owen and tear him to pieces; and they would have done so if the captors had not pressed them back, “We take the yellow boy closer to the place where his pale-faced friends are hid, and there we'll burn him at the stake,” said Owen's captors, “‘He has shed the blood of the Sioux, and shall dry up the current in his veins.” ‘This was received with loud shouts that made Old Tomahawk grate his teeth again, and a moment later the whole crowd surged toward the fort. 7 “‘Isee ncthing of Mountain Pete,” said Trapper om. “T see him plainly,” was Old Tomahawk’s re- sponse. “ He's fixed up like a full-blooded Sioux, but he can't fool me. Heis the big Injun on the right. Dll bet my life that Owen has picked him out afore this.” The Indians continued to approach the fort until they had reached a spot about two hundred yards distant, where they halted, and without ceremony proceeded to bind Owen to a young tree, the body of which was about twelve inches in diameter, ‘* What did I tell yon?” said the old Indian-slayer. Trapper Tom did not appear to hear him “Don’t you see?” the boy suddenly exclaimed. “They are going to burn Owen right before our eyes! That tree is to be his stake, and we are to crouch here with loaded rifles and submit to the whole affair!” *‘Mebbe so,” was the tantalizing answer. “* What kin we do for the yellow boy?” “With our sixteen-shooters we can spring over the logs and pour death into the Indian ranks,” ** An’ see a tomahawk bury itselt in Owen’s head for our trovbdle, too.” Trapper Tom cid not reply; he silently acknowl- edged the logic of Tomahawk’s last remarks, and was forced to turn his attention to a sight that maddened him. When the tying operation had been completed, astalwart Indian—a veritable red giant—stepped forward and waved his hand toward the fort. “The Sioux have caught the yellow friend of the pale-faces,’ he said, in a loud voice, whose tones easily reached Trapper Tom and his companion. “They have tied him to a tree in the forest, an’ they will soon pile sticks of wood about his legs. The yellow boy has shot the Sioux down like dogs; he jes trailed them even to their villages an’ struck them there. He is the friend of the white man who hates and hunts the Sioux for what they did to him many, many moonsazo. When the Sioux have burnt the yellow boy with fire, they will take the pale-faces jrom their fort an’ burn them, too. Let them look on an’ see how their friend dies. He will whine like a dog when the red tongues lick his skin. | Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. 29 The big brave ceased and turned away. ‘““Thet war Mountain Pete,” said Old om ahawk. “He makes a good Injun when he’s fixed up, Did er notice how Owen watched ‘im while he liked?” as He never took his eyes from him for a mo- ment.’ “Nobody kin tell how he hates Mountain Pete,” the Indian-fighter continued. ‘He knows that he has found the man he has hunted for so long, Give Owen a chance an’ Mountain Pete’s career will end before oureyes. Thet boy’s life desire is to avenge the death of bis mother—the Crow princess,” To i oa Pete's address Old Tomahawk made no reply. OW oli treat the dog with silence,” he said, ‘1 will waste no words with such a brute.” The Sioux now began to collect sticks which they heaped about the nether limbs of the doomed boy who stood erect against the body of the tree, with a pair of blazing eyes fixed on Mountain Pete, The renegade stood a few fcet away with arms folded on his brawny chest, and with an expression of brutish triumph on bis swarthy countenance. “Yellow boy hunt me no more,” he suddenly said. “When I have scattered your ashes to the winds, I will turn upon your friends in the fort.” “They will put a speedy end to the career of the renegade dog!” exclaimed Owen. “I have hunted you a long time, but you have always eluded me, Now I am_your prisoper. Mountain Pete, do you know why I have trailed youto the very lodges of the red-men?” “I must have stepped on your tces scmewhar,’ was the response. “You have done more than that. Mountain Pete, don’t you know me?” The question was asked in a tone that drove Mountain Pete toward the captive. “Do you remember the Crow wife you once whip ped to death?” continued Owen. An exclamation fell from Mountain Pete's lips. “Ah! you have not forgotten her] Well, I am her son.” “ An’ my son, too!” A bound took the desperado to Owen’s side. “Stand back, murderer. Don’t touch me!” cried the yellow boy. He spoke too late, for with one foot Mountain Pete sent the sticks flying in every direction, and the knife that glittered in Lis hand liberated the cap- tive in the twinkling of an eye! **Mountain Pete’s boy!’ he said to the astonished Indians as he jerked Owen from the tree, “No! my mother’s son, and her sworn avenger!” was the thundering response. As the last words still trembled the half breed’s lips he darted at Mountain Pete, and tore his rifle from his grasp. “I have found you at last!” he cried. “Though you are my father, Iavenge the death of my mother, the beautiful princess of the Crows.” With face aflame with raze Mountain Pete started toward the boy, “Here ends my trail and yours!” said Owen, The next moment the renegade’s rifle spoke his doom, and the stalwart figure of Mountain Pete staggered from the muzzle! The forest tragedy seemed to paralyze the red spectators. They did not recover until oor saw Owen bound- ing toward the fort eagerly awaited by its breathless occupants. They suddenly darted after him. with wild cries, but Trapper Tom and Old Tomahawk sprung up and presented their rifles, The menace of those death-dealing weapons was enough for the Sioux; they cere and taking to the trees, made their way back to the captiveless stake, As for Owen, he kept on until he bounded over the log, and alighted between his two friends,

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~ CHAPTER XVII. THE LAST TRAIL, Warr Owen was relating his adventures to Trap- per Tom and Tomahawk, the Indians gathered around the body of Mountain Pete whose skull had been shattered by a bullet fired at close range. The renegade had met his fate at last at the hands of his own son, for his brutal treatment of the Crow princess, once his wife. After his narrative Owen turned toward the scene visible in the forest and regarded it thoughtfully for some time. He seemed to live over much of his checkered past during his silence, and the two lookers-on did not disturb him, “We will go now, Tomahawk,” he said calmly. * Owen’e trail has ended, and he can go back to his le.” Patho the Crows?” ‘Why not? Can he not return to his mother’s grave an’ say that the man who whipped her can strike no more?” “Thet’s jast what you kin do,” was the Indian- fighter’s reply. ‘I'd like ter go with you, boy, ef I could spare the time. But first I’ve got ter help Tra»per Tom git his pelts to the tradin’ post, an’ ert in goin’ ter settle with a few more red-skins fer thet long crazy spell ov mine,” “Owen help his white brother too. Back to the cave, then.” * But not with all those Indians in our front,” said Trapper Tom, “Ov course not. At any rate we won’t attempt ter leave this fort to-day.” The Sioux did not charge the fort again, but sent in an Indian flag of truce and asked permission to carry off their dead. They were carefully watched by the three friends while they performed this operation, and when the last one had been borne away the last Sioux quietly sr pe z Stil the occupants of the fort did not evacuate it until the shades of night had fallen again; then they slipped away in Indian file and glided noiselessly through the darkened forest. In the Indian country one must be always on the alert; not a single sense must slumber for} a mo- ment, ‘ The slightest noise must reach the white man’s ear, and ‘his eye must be able to take in whole scenes ataglance. — : The three friends were stil] inthe greatest danger. Itistrue that the Sioux had to a!l appearances withdrawn; but they were probably in the vicinity planning new et and eager to get the scalps which thus far had eluded them. The gold cave where Trapper Tom had left the valuable pelts was now the objective point. It was miles from the fort, but the trio expected to reach it before morning. Once in its recesses, they believed that they could bid defiance to the red-skins, for it was capable of being defended by a small force against overwhelm- ing numbers. That night-journey through the forest was accom- plished without a loud voice, and we may add with- out incident of any kind. Morning was near at hand when the trio reached the gold cave. Eager to ascertain whether his pelts were safe. Trapper Tom lowered himself into the cavern, an torch in hand darted toward the niche. All at -once, however, a huge object rose in his Poth, and the next instant the boy recoiled from the erocious head of a grizzly. It was a meeting entirely unexpected, and as the bear exhibited signs of rage, the Wood Imp dropped his light and raised his rifle. **Don’t shoot him! I’m sp’ilin’ for a b’ar fight!” cried the voice of Tomahawk, as the boy’s rifle struck his shoulder. He spoke too late, for Tom's rifle cracked before Traaper Tom, the Wood Imp. he reached his side, and with a growl that filled the cavern, Old Ephraim retreated into the niche. “Tl fight him yet!’’ exclaimed Old Tomahawk, picking up the torch and dashing fiercely at the ‘oth Trapper Tom and Owen attempted to re- strain the veteran, but without avail, for they saw him fling the torch at the bear’s head, and then charge him with naked knife. “Let them fight it out,” said Owen, holding Tom back, “I never knew Old Tomabawk to kill a aay, with a rifle. He always finishes the combat with the knife.” The two boys stood aloof from the struggle, but not for long. They saw two figures writhing in the flickerin light of the torch, and now and then caught sight o a gleaming blade. At last the combatants separated, and Old Toma- hawk, with his clothes torn to shreds, came from the niche. ‘*Thet’s ther toughest incident I ever tackled,” he omy and then dropped with a groan at the boy’s eet. ** Heavens! he is dead!” exclaimed Trapper Tom. “The grizzly has finished Old Tomahawk!” An examination revealed the fact that the grizzly- fighter had fainted, also that he was horribly niuti- lated, and apparently near death’s door. Trapper Tom took the torch and examined the grizzly. The body was literally covered with knife-wounds, oe of which were in the heart, and the bear was dead. While Owen was working with Old Tomahawk, Trapper Tom proceeded to inspect the place where he had left his pelts. To his great joy he found them all safe with the exception of the one bundle which, as the reader ta recollect, was carried off by Young Eagle, the joux, “They'll bring me a good round sum, anyhow,” he said, as he surveyed the heap. ‘ Heaven knowsI’ve had adventures enough defending them. Old Toma» hawk is welcome to his gold mine if he recovers, I’ve got enough of this part of the Northwest, and henceforward I'll give it a wide berth.” It was not until three weeks after these last events, to come to the conclusion of our story, that Trapper om started for the nearest trading-post wit! his urs. Tor some days Old Tomahawk hovered between life and death, but his iron constitution brought him through, and at last the trio left the gold cave to brave the perils of a forest tramp to the post. As Old Tomahawk knew the trails of the great Northwest as a pilot knows the river, he led the ex- pedition, which in due time lovin the gates of the post, and Trapper Tom had the pleasure of throwin;: his furs at the feet of the agent. The sum that he received for tem with the nug- gets brought from Old Tomahawk’s gold mine, he found himself well fixed for the remainder of his youth, and he announced his intention of quinn the wild sports of forest and stream and of turning his face toward the East. : A few days after his return to the trading-post, he was called upon to say good-by to his two faithful friends, Old Tomahawk and Owen. “I’m goin’ back to work thet mine ov mine an’ ter settle with a few reds agin’ whom I've got a standin’ grudge,” said the old Indian-hater as he held Trapper Tom’s hand in his rough palm. “Mebbe they'll git the best ov Old Tomahawk this time, boy; but all creation couldn’t keep me out ov thet kentry. I’m ready fer anything ag’in—from a grizzly fight to a tussle with a red.” “Owen say good-by, too,” said a voice as Old Tomahawk finished. ‘The Crow boy go back to his mother now. He has seen the flag of the pale- faces for the last time. His home will be where the ~ : - De

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Rom lodges of the Crows stand, and he will hunt the buffalo and deer in the land of his mother’s people. White pal pr has seen Owen strike down the hand that struck the Princess of the Crows. Owen goes back to the trails of his boyhood,” There was moisture in the young half-breed’s eyes when he turned away, and Trapper Tom clung to his swarthy hand as Jong as he was able. “We shall not part thus!” he exclaimed. ‘I will go back with you!” He was pushed back by the hand of Old Toma- hawk, and a moment later the gate of the trading- post opened, and shut and he saw his friends no more. Only last summer a gaunt sun-browned man, carrying a long rifle across his arm, entered a business house in Omaha, and stretched a bronzed hand across the counter to the young proprietor, “Don’t you know yer old pard, Trapper Tom?” exclaimed the stranger. There was an exclamation of joy. * Old Tomahawk!” “That's my handle, I’ve Jost ther gold mine; but I got even with the Sioux! I'm hyar ter stay.” **Where’s Owen?” inquired Mr. Tom Merrill, once the Wood Imp of the Northwest. “Oh, he’s kickin’ somewhar in Crowdom. They've made him head chief ov the hull tribe, an’ a finer lookin’ Injun king never robbed an eagle’s nest. THE END, DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS FOR SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS AND HOME ENTERTAINMENTS. Dialogues, Nos. 1 to 31 inclusive, 15 to 2% ana lar dialogues and dramas in each book. Each vol- ume 100 pages 12mo. Speakers, Nos. 1 to 24 inclusive. Each speaker 100 pages 12mo0, containing from 50 to 75 pieces. YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES, Dime Book of Winter Sports. Dime Book of Summer Athletic Sports Dime Gents’ Letter Writer. Dime Book of Etiquette. Dime Book of Verses. Dime Book of Dreams. Dime Fortune Teller, Dime Ladies’ Letter Writer. Dime Lovers’ Casket. Dime Ball-Room Companion. Dime Book of 100 Games. Dime Chess Instructor. Dime Book of Beauty. (2 The above books are sold by newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any ad- dress, on receipt of price, ten cents each. BEADLE AnD Apams, Publishers, 98 William st., N. Y. . ~The Dime Dialogues No. 31. Containing twenty Minor Dramas, Extravaganzas Burlesques, Farces, Dress and Humorous Pieces, for the Amateur Stage, Parlors, Schools and Exhibitions. All original and by favorite authors, professors, teachers and amateurs. Yor sale by all newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, on receipt of price—ten cents. EADLE AND ADAMS, PusiisHers 2 98 William Street, New York. Trapper Tom, the Wood Imp. 31 . . 9 . Half-Dime Singer's Library 1 Wuoa, Eymra! and 59 other Songs, 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs, 8 Tax Garnsporo’ Hart and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny Morean and 60 other Songs. 5 Tt. Streme You Wirs a Fraser and 62 othera, 6 G EORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tne Bette or Rockaway and 52 other Songs, 8 Youne Feiian, You're Too Fresn and 60 others 9 Say Youne Grru and 65 other Songs. 10 I’m THe Governor's ONLY SON and 58 other Songa, 11 My Fan and 65 other Songs. 12 Comm’ Toro’ Tux Rye and 55 other Songs. 18 Tae Rotiickine Irisuman and 59 other Songs, 14 Op Doa Tray and 62 other Songs, 15 Wuoa, CHARLIE and 59 other Songs, 16 In rH1s Waeat By anp By and 62 other Songs. 17 Nancy Lux and 58 other Songs. 18 I'm THe Boy THat’s Bounp To Brazr and 57 others, 19 Tae Two Orpnans and 59 other Songs, 20 Waar are THE Winp Waves Sayinc. Sisrmr? and 59 other Songs. 21 InpiGnant Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 Tue Otp ArM-CHarr and 58 other Songs. 28 On Coney Istanp Bracu and 58 other Songs. 24 Otn Srmon, THE Hot-Corn MAN and 60 others, 25 I’m 1n Love and 56 other Songs. 25 ParapE or THE Guarps and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Hrave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 "T'witt Never po ro Gin rr up So and 60 others, 29 Buve Bonners Over THe Borper and 54 others, 80 Tar Merry Laventna Man and 56 other Songs, 81 Sweer Forart-mE-Nor and 55 other Songs. $2 Lerrie Bany Mine end 53 other Songs. $3 De BANso AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR ME and 53 others, 24 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 85 Just ro PLease THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 86 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GuTTER and 52 others, 87 Kororep Kranks and 59 other Songs. 88 Nin Desprxanpum and 53 other Songs. 89 Tue Grru I Lerr Benin Me and 50 other Songs 40 °Tis sur A Lrrrte Fapep Frower and 50 others 41 Prerry Wariner and 60 other Songs. 42 DANCING IN THE Barn and 63 other Songs. 43 H. M.S. Prnaror®. compere, and 17 other Songs. Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent post-pcid, to any address, on rer ceipt of Six cents per number. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Puerisaicrs, 98 Winiam Street, New Yorr

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ne ree ee ae SOSOSSTIAISOOOSSSVSOOsSsosggggggsgggge pe a Det ; BEADLES POCK AT trary, +4 O96) SSOSOOOOO OOOO OODOOOSOSOOOOOOOS 839 Rardo, the Boy Gypsy; or, Reckless Rolf’s Re- yolt, By Wm, G, Patten. 340 Billy Bubble’s Big Score; or, Tim, the Tramp. By Charles Morris. 841 Colorado Steve’s Dash; or, Old Buncomb’s Sure Shot. By Philip 8. Warne, 342 Snap-Shot Sam; or, Ned Norris’s Nettle. By Bucksin Sam. 343 Mike, the Bowery Detective; or, Peleg Prancer of Vermont. By Edward L. Wheeler. 344 The Drummer Sport; or, Captain Dasher’s Droll Dilemma. By Edward Willett. 845 Jaques, the Hardpan Vetective; or, Captain Frisco the Road-‘gent, By J. C, Cowdrick, 346 Joe, the Chicago Arab; or, A Boy of the Times, 4 Charles Morris, 347 Middy Herbert’s Prize; or, The Girl Captain’s Revenge. By Col. Prentiss Inzraham. 848 Sharp-Shooter Frank; or, Toe Young Texan Pards. By Buckskin Sam. 849 Buck the Miner; or, Alf, the Colorado Guide, By Maj. B. L. 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By Jo Pierce. 876 Buckskin Dick’s Clean Sweep; or, Jonathan Jenks’ Still Hunt. By Col. Arthur ¥, Holt. 377 The Deadwood Sports. By Lieut.S. G. Lansing. 873 Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 879 Dick, the Stowaway; or, A Yankee Boy’s Strange Cruise. By Charles Morris. 880 Young Dick Talbot; or, A Bvy’s Rough and Tumble Fight from New York fo California. By Albert W. Aiken. 881 Dandy Bill’s Doom; or, Deerhunter, the Boy Scout. By Oll Cooms, 882 Meta George, the Boy Pioneer, By Ed. illet. 383 Wild Bill, the Pistol Prince. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 884 Brimstene Bill’s Booty; or, Mariposa Marsh af Dead Man’s Gulch. By Joseph EK. Badger. Jr. 385 The Boy Tramps; or, The Roughs of Demon Hollow. By J. M. Hoffman. 386 The Mentana Kid; or, Little Dan Rock's Mis- sion, By Morris Redwing. 387 The Boy Detectives; or, Broker Blondin's Big Reward. By T. C, Harbaugh. 888 The Pony Express Rider; or, Buffalo Bill's Frontier Feats, By Col. 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