Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 474) (1893 02 08)
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i Pt i a a : rs ef tt MET ZATIN Copyrighted, 1253, by Brapim awp Apame. Entered as Second Class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Pout Office, Feb. 8, 1893, No. 474, $2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, Price, Vol, XXXVI a Year, No. 98 WinLtaM St. NEw York. Five Cents. SSS ‘HE MOMENT YOU SET FOOT UPON THIS LEDGE I WILL THROW THE BOY DOWN UPON THE LIMESTONE AT THE FOOT OF THE BLUFF.”
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. ~- Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch; THE MYSTERIOUS MUTE, BY C. DUNNING CLARK, AUTHOR OF “CAPTAIN RALPH, THE YOUNG EX- PLORER,” *’LONGSHORE LUE,” CRUISE OF THE FLYAWAY,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER. I. THE HORSE-THIEM'S PUNISHMENT. “DraG him out!” “Tief!? ‘“ Brand him on the face!” ‘*To the stocks with him!” were the various cries which echoed through the little settlement. A crowd of men of all conditions were grouped about a single man, striking, push- sing and dragging him into the open space in the center of the village. Men who wore the uni- form of the colonial militia, broadcloth, home- spun and buckskin, Men of the mountain and the woods, and men of the towns, vied with each other in heaping insults upon a dark-faced wretch in a hunting garb, who, for some reason, had awakened their animosity. He was a stal- wart, dark-browed young man, with an evil eye, and bristling black hair, and a beard of many days’ growth, Scoundrel was written upon every line of his dark face, and his evil eyes, even while they glanced from face to face in terror, had a lurking menace in them which was horrible, “You let up, will you!” he hissed. ‘' You my repent this before you are done with it.” ‘* Shut his mouth if he dares to speak,” cried a young manina hunting dress, ‘To the whip- ping-post with him, and give him the law of Loses, ‘ fortiy—save one,’” * You'd better be careful, Ralph Campbell,” screamed the prisoner. ‘Tom Dockstader never forgits, he don’t. I’m a free mun, and you'd better let loose on me.” “You may thank your fortunate stars that we don’t hang you, Master Tom,” replied the other, laying his hand upon the collar of tho speaker, “I'he boys wouldn’t need much urg- ing to give you short shrift and sudden cord, Where is Tim Murphy?” “Here IT am, Ralph,” cried a hoarse voice. * At hand always, by mighty.” Theso words were hardly spoken when a man broke through the crowd and seized Dockstader upon the other side. He was of powerful build, with an irresistibly comic face, crowned by a head of flaming ved hair, which stuck out in every direction from beneath a rusty coonskin cap. His twinklng blue eyes beamed with de- light in the prospect of a row, and he hauled his prisoner on toward the whipping-post with a power of muscle which was needed, for the man fought like a demon, and it was all the two strong men could do, aided by the pushing of the crowd behind, to move him forward. As he went he blasphemed heaven and earth, and called down unheard-of maledictions upon the heads of the two who held him. In spite of his struggles, they tinally succeeded in dragging him to the post and binding him with many cords. “Now then, Tom Dockstader, here you are,” cried young Campbell. It has been proved be- horse-stealing since you have beenin Cherry Valley, and a last you are caught in the fact. You know, or ought to know, the penalty among bordermen, and that we have the right to enforce it, ‘Lhe penalty is death!” “You dursn’t doit,” roared Dockstader, TI dare you to do it; I’ve got friends.” ‘* Not in Cuerry Valley, Tom.” ““T don’t care; you'd better let me loose.” “Do you deny that you were caught, not only with my horse, but Tom Murphy’s, on the road to a age a 7 ‘“What’s the use of my denying it? Tha won’t do no good, I reckon. I took the horses, yes; I took’em, and V’d do it ag’in. loose these cords, and Pll fight any two of you a fair stand-up fight, give and take, You don’t dare to do it, you cowards.” ? “Strip him, boys,” said Ralpb"Campbell, turn- ing to the others. ‘Mercy is thrown away on him, and the quicker we get this job off our hands the better for ali concerned.” They were not very particular in their man- ner of stripping off his hunting-shirt, literally cutting ib from his person with their knives, Then they seized his wrists to the top of tho post, stretching them as far as they would go, and tying them fast. During the operation Dockstader literally foamed at the mouth, but his rage was of no avail, and he stood at tho post with his back bared, waiting for the inflic- tion of the punishment. ‘This man has been fairly tried,” said Camp- bell, “Cand upon his own confession is found guilty of the crime of horse-stealing. PU put that down in Cherry Valley, boys. Shall I give the sentence?” : “Yes, yes!” cried the excited crowd. ‘*Then I order that the prisoner receive forty lashes, save one, upon his bare back, and sit in the stocks until sundown. Tim Murphy, you will carry the sentence into execution.” vided, and taking one of these in his hand, Murphy took his station and fixed his eyes upon the naked back of Dockstader, ‘* Now!” cried Campbell, ‘* Que!” The lash fell, and a livid streak rose at once upon the back of the prisoner, extending from his shoulder to his waist, while a yell of agony broke from his lips. An old woman, white- haired and wrinkled, broke through the crowd and threw herself between the captive and his fierce, dark-skinned withered hag, dwarfed and bent, whose eyes seemed to shoot out living fires as sho looked at Murphy. ““Cowards!” she screamed. my boy; they'll murder you ” “Gypsy Mag, the Witch!” was the murmur which went from mouth to mouth. ‘It’s her son; you can’t blame her for caring for him.” . “Take her away,” said Campbell. ‘ This is worse than folly, Mag. Your son has been con- yond a doubt that you have made a business of — You just, A bundle of green beech-rods had been pro- torturer, receiving the second lash herself. A: “Oh, my boy, Pe ere An : : sikg victed of a erave crime, and we aredoing no | more than justice when we flog him, aside and let the punishment go on,” . ‘*T curse you with the curse of the old, if y: Stand |
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” , On of y y G rd q i ‘el a & ig re ' ter not hurt the old woman. ther description of it. strike another stroke!” screamed the hag. “Take care, Tim Murphy. May the arm rot off at the shoulder if you raise it.” : A shudder passed through the crowd as sho spoke. In this early day, people had not yet quite got over their ideas in regard to witch- craft, and though the days bad gone by when all old women of ugly face and form were re- garded as witches, yet there was something of the old leaven of superstition remaining, and there were many in Cherry Valley who would not have sworn upon oath that Mag tae Witch was not leagued with evil spirits. Indeed, she had a bad name, and young wives and mothers would frighten their fractious children by point- ing her out as the one who would seize upon them and carry them away if they were not good, Tim Murphy, like most men of his class, was rather superstitious, and the rod dropped from his hard. * This creature must not be permitted to ob- struct the coursejof justice,” said Campbell. ‘Jf no one else will take her away, I will. I gave you credit for more strength of mind than to permit yourself to be frightened by a toothless old woman, Tim.” “She's the kind can. set the ghosts on you,” said Tim, in a low tone. ‘ Don’t touch her, Ralph. She’s got.the evil eye, sure.” ‘* Bah!” replied Campbell. ‘* Now then, Mag, will you leave the prisoner, or must I remove you by force?” Fe vit take tho blows myself!” screamed Mag. Tm old, and it don’t matter what you do with me, but he’s my only boy.” “A hopeful youth he is, too. away.” “ Never.” Campbell, without hurting her, took away ber clinging arms, when she swung herself loose, and waved a sharp blade before his eyes, and made a thrust at his breast which but for bis uickness must have resulted fatally to him. ut her wrist fell into his broad palm, and he held her fast, snatching the knife from her hand, “Take her into the house,” he said, ‘ She is crazy.” The screams of the woman died away as two of the men hurried her into a house, and Mur- phy again took up the rod. During the excite- ment the prisoner lad not uttered a sound, but the baleful light in his eyes showed that he was watching every movement. **Drat you all,” he said at last. ‘* You'd bet- She'll bave her revenge out of you if you do.” “Now, Tim,” said Campbell. ‘* Two!” The punishment went on. It is needless to harrow the feelings of the reader by a fur- Cruel as the pun- ishment was, it was rendered necessary in a sec- tion where lawlessness and crime were beginning to hold full sway, for it was at that turbulent You must come ‘period just before the Revolutionary struggle, when Tory and Whig were beginning to hate _ each other, and plot for the supremacy. It was _ the more necessary in a place like Cherry Val- Sey, where civil jaw had very little hold upon : the factious element. The last blow was struck, the tattered garments of Dockstader thrown Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. over his lacerated back, end he was led away to the stocks. 4 ‘* How long must I sit here?” he said. “ Perhaps until sundown. After that we will give you a day to get out of Cherry Valley. If youare scen here from this day, look out for yourself,” veplied Campbell. “Vl take care of myself after that, Ralph,” replied Dockstader. ‘‘ You leave me now, since you’ve done all the hurt you can.” The crowd separated, and left him sitting in the stocks. His back was burning like flame, but that was nothing to the fire which raged within his besom, The man was a criminal of the worst type, and there was murder in bis heart. His ficrce eye ranged about the village, aud mentally he was devoting them all to de- struction, and plotting how in the future he could revenge himself upon them, ‘Let Cherry Valley look to itself when the time comes, for Tom Dockstader will not soon forget the cruelty of to-day.” At this moment a door was opened in a house close at band and a young woman came out, holding in ber band a pitcher and glass. She approached the stocks and Dockstader looked at ber closely. A beautiful girl, with sunny brown hair falling in rippling curls upon her shoulders, and a beautiful complexion aud deep- blue eyes, ‘* Would you like some water? she said, kind- ly. ‘fam sorry to see you bere, sir.” “1d not be here of my own will,” replied the prisoner, grating his teeth. ‘‘ Why do you come here, you, that are Ralph Campbell's wife?” “f thought you might like something to drink,” replied the woman, pouring out a glass of water. ‘ You must not blame my husband, for he was forced to punish you.” ** Was be?” “Yes, The people made him captain of the Vigilance Committee, and he could do no less. Drink some water: you must be in pain.” “Tam on fire,” be replied, drinking greedily from the glass she placed at his lips. ‘So you think Ralph Campbell couldn’t help it?” ‘He 1s too’ kind-hearted to delight in giving pain,” she answered. “Ts be? Vl try his kind heart some day. More water! Give me the pitcher.” She placed the pitcher to his lips and he nearly drained it, never once removing his eyes from her, but Myra Campbell had a kind heart, and she let him drink until he had enough. “Ralph Campbell hunted me down and tied me to the post, and his wife gave me drink. I suppose you think that one act is a sort of bal- ance to the other,” he said. “T never thought of that,” she answered, “ve heard say he sets great stere by you,” he continued, ‘That’s your little boy at the door, ain’t it?” ‘Yes; he is five years old.” : “A nice boy, too. What do you call bim?” “Ralph.” “Yes, Named arter his father. No doubt his father would die sooner than see him come toharm, Eh?’ 7 ““Of course he would. Why do you speak of the boy in that way? Surely you would not be cruel enough to do him any harm?” ¥
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ah SRS RE i AT at PI RS i se em ST Peay E 7a So Ten eS 4 - - & Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. *“T ain't got any call to harm the boy as I knows on. reckon you’d better go away, for your husband won’t be none too well pleased to see you giving drink to me.” ‘““My husband; he sent me to give it to you.” **¥ s’pose he thought I wouldn’t take anything from his hand. You go away,I say. Leave the pitcher, for here the old woman comes, and she'll give me more when I want it.” They had set Mag free as soon as the punish- ment was over, and she was hurrying toward the stocks. When she saw Myra a sort of spasm passed over her face and she gasped for breath, while her hand stole into the bosom of her ragged dross as if for a weapon. © Adrat it, mother, what are you thinking to do?’ said the prisoner. ‘‘ Don’t you see who this is? You don’t surely mean any enmity to one of the great Campbell blood!” “ Let her go away then, or I won’t be account- able for what I do,” hissed the withered hag. “She brought you water and cooled your parched tongue, that you might forget the wrong her and hers have done this day. But when I forget, may the blood leave my body forever and go out of my heart. Vm fifty years old to-day, and I never forgave an injury yet. My poor boy, my poor boy!” ** Never mind me, old woman,” said the thief, shifting his position a little. ‘“‘ It’s enough for me to think of without your putting in.” * Butto think of you sitting there, and your poor back burning and throbbing, A curse up- on Ralph Campbell, body and soul, May he taste every bitter cup of life. May his friends turn from him in the hour of his need, his rifle fail him every time he pulls the trigger, his children die before his eyes.” * How cruel you are,” sobbed Myra. ‘‘ Surely I never wronged you.” ‘Go away, unless you would have me curso you as well,” screamed Maz. ‘ Because you brought my poor boy water lam not to. curse. Tll do more than that, far more, before I’m done with you. [ll remember you for the good you did, and your husband for the evil. Now go.” Myra stole away, fearfully agitated and caught up her boy in her arms, who was still playing upon tha doorstep. “Ay, ay,” muttered the vindictive hag. “That is the place to strike and strike home. She'll feel it all the worse and so will he. I hope they ain’t broke your spirit, my boy.” *’Tain’t in them to do that,” replied the man, savagely. ‘‘ Break my sperit—mine! You don’t know the cub you have raised if you think that of mo, But what’s the use to show ‘em your ‘hand afore you’re sure of the keerds? Time enough for that when the stakes are on the board, and then sweep it clean. There’s not a stripe upon my back that won’t be the grave of one of the men who stood by and laughed when they beat me like a dog, end on Ralph Campbell my vengeance will fall heavy.” ““ What do you think to do, my dear boy? Tell your old mother, and let her help you.” ** What's the use to talk while I’m anchored by the heels in this way?” ‘** Sit close to me then, for I wouldn't have the walls hear wuat I say.” : The old hag sat down upon the wooden plat- form of the stocks and conversed with him in whispers. The sun passed the meridian and be- gan to slope toward the west, and yet the strangely assorted pair kept their places and + made their plans. Life and death hung upon their words, and had the passers-by who cast such scornful glances at them, known what they plotted to do, they would have hung both to the nearest tres. But, it was written in the book of fate that on these two should hang the odium of one of the most dreadful massacres which ever seine’ the pages of history, and they must work it out. CHAPTER IL. MOTHER AND SON. At five o'clock Campbell, accompanied by several of the inhabitants of the village, came out and set the prisoner free. ‘* You will at once proceed to your house and pack up such articles of value as you may wish to remove and get them ready for transporta- tion. Cherry Valley must be unvisited by you again. The brand of crime is on you, and who- ever shall meet you within two miles of this township will be justified in shooting you upon the spot. We do this in justice to ourselves.” “Ym glad you’ve drove me out,” said the other, drawing a long breath, as he stood with downcast head before them, ‘It’s your right to do it, and if you make Jaws, a poor devil must abide by them, you'd give me to get out of town?” ; “ Give him forty-eight hours,” said one of the men, ‘ That’s little enough.” “Tt wou’t take long for me to pack my goods,” said the condemned man, in a low voice, “ Don’t say anything more; that’s all the time f need. Come on, mother; must she go too?” ** Not unless she likes,” “ Then [ reckon ll leave her here until I kin send for her. It takes time to build a now house and lay out a clearing, and it mou’t be a year afore I could git her away.” He took his march through the woods at a quick, strong pace, his eyes gleaming with a look of intense hate, while Mag turned as they passed into the forest to shake her skinny hand at the village: “You'll remember this in the days to co oe Ralph Campbell. If you don’t my name ain Mag. the Witch. Yah! I hate you.” ‘““Thank you, Mag,” replied Ralph, laughing uneasily. ‘‘ The old fiend is vindictive enough to poison me if she took it into ber head to do it. I’m not sure we ought not to send her along with her hopeful son. I wonder who will keep her in food while Tom is away?” ‘Let Mag alone for that,” replied one of the men. ‘'She can shoot well yet, and I’ve seen her take a squirrel out of the top of a high tree — with a heavy rifle, a shot that some of our — youngsters would hardly hav> thought it a dis- grace to miss. ‘** But tell me; I’m old, but I’m cunning. I can lt Mother and son pursued their way through a plan yet, as they shall know.” hick growth of timber until they struck the How long did you say . Let them go for a couple of mis- chievous devils, and may we never see Tom _ Dock-tader’s face again.” 2 Wee ee eee gee
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creek, where, nestling down in a quiet nook, " was a log cabin strongly built, after the fashion of the times, to guard against the sudden at- tacks of the Indians, who were liable at any time to assail it. Dockstader pushéd open the door with his foot and went in, followed by his mother. A black cat, crouching before the rude stone fireplace, rose with a shrill snarl as they entered, and seemed about to fly at them, until the old woman spoke. *“ Down, devil, down,” cried Mag. ‘ What; don’t you know your mistress yet? Ill teach you, if you spif af me.” wolf-houud, gaunt and strong, simply raised his head and looked at them, and lay down again with a sulky growl. zi “You git that ‘intment, old woman,” hissed ' Dockstader, as he sunk into a chair. ‘ My back is all cut to pieces, Never mind; a knife BB fs digs deeper than a beech-gad, any day.” a e stripped off his ragged hunting-shirt and threw it on the floor, and the old woman took ; down an old bottle, filled with a yellowish oint- ment, with which she smeared the lacerated a back of her son, who called down unheard-of aa curses upon the man who had been foremost in i inflicting his well-deserved punishment upon au him. Every touch even of the old womun’s careful hand was an agony to“him, and, strong man as he was, he moaned like a child in pain, and grew faint as she dressed the wounds aud wound great strips of cotton cloth, covered with the ointment, about bis naked body. When it was done he felt easier, and lay upon his face on a pile of bearskins in a corner, while she brought out a huge stone bottle and a horn drinking-cup and poured him out nearly a half- int of fiery brandy, which he drank as if it ad been water. ‘* Git something for me to eat,” he said; ‘ ’m off for the Indian nation to-night, and Pve no doubt they'll use me well. I’ve been cute enough never to wrong an Injin, and the crit- ters remember it, VIl have friends enough be- fore a month 1s out, and don’t you be slack in doing the work we've cut out.” re “Pm wide awake, my son. Old Mag Dock- stader always remembers a promise, and when I told that poison Campbell I’d be even with him, I meant it. He'll believe it, too, before he’s much older,” “ Don’t let ’em know you are thinkin’ of it, old woman, Better creep and crawl to git re- venge than to be druv out of the kentry afore it’s done. They won't do you any harm as long as you keep stili,” “ You let me alone to work. I'd better cook out a lot of bear-meat and have you carry it with vou, hadn’t I?” “Yes: it’s a journey to the Injin nation and T ain’t fit to hunt.” Mag took an ax and went out into the shed, leaving her hopeful son moaning upon his _ rough bed, The sound of heavy blows fol- - lowed, and she came in, carrying a heavy _ piece of bear-meat upon one arm and some light- wood as the other. Raking open the coals, she laid the light-wood on them and a bright flame was soon curling up toward the ceiling. Upon this she laid two or three heavy sticks, and the fire was blazing, Then she hung the Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. Ko Nee cal tea Fr oes meat upon a hook swinging by a heavy chain from the upper part of the chimney, and left it there, while she set out the rude table and put out the wooden plates and platters, ready for the meat when it should he cooked. “Pll leave you a rifle, old girl,” he said. “ And if you get short of meat you know how to kill a buck. It cuts me to the heart to be druv out of Cherry Valley now, jist when I was git- ting the hunting-ground by heart.” “Tm sorry you couldn’t keep your hands off the horses, Tommy.” “T's my natur’,” moaned the thief. “I never could resist a hoss, you kpow, and that brown mare of Ralph Campbell’s is such a beauty.” “ And then you would go to West Springfield, though I warned you not.” “Who'd ’a’ thought of meeting Ralph and Tim Murphy thar of all places in the world? I thought they was up toward the Mohawk, my- self, but they come down on me when I was resting and taking a snack, and the first I knew, they had their rifles at my heart and 1 was took. ’Tain’t no use to try to run away from Tim Murpby’s rifle; she shoots too durned straight, she does.” “lve got him down in my book too, the red- yheaded rascal. He shall suffer with the rest.” She gave the meat a whirl and set it spinning at a great rate, while the conversation went on, “T can’t bardly bring myself to hurt Myra,” said Dockstader, uneasily. "T'was kind in her, when every other one shrunk away from me, to come out and give me water. I wish it could he done and not hurt her. I used to think the world of ber.” “ How are you going to do it and not hurt her, Tommy? She’s just bound up in Ralph Campbell and the na and if you strike at them you must hit her. If you are fool enough and coward enough to forgit your aching back, say so, and that ends it. It is not for my own good I'm going to do it.” ‘J know it, mother. Adrat it, you don’t think [’m likely to forgit? No, no! If you stood in the way of my revenge, it wouldn’t make no difference; 1 said I’d be even with ’em, and I will.” 4 ‘* That’s like my own son,” said Mag. approv- ingly. ‘“‘Never mind that little white-faced chit, but take your vengeance like a man,” “T mou't lay in wait for Ralph Campbell and shoot him from the bush,” “Yes, an have all Cherry Valley ovt in chase of you, with Tim Murphy fora trailer. That won’t do,” “No, I reckon not. Your plan is the best arter all, and that D’ll'stick to. Cut me off some of that meat and ket the rest cook while | eat. She cut off sonve of the roasted meat from the outside and put it on his piste, while he took up the stene botrle and drank freely. “ Ah; that goes to the spot. A man that kin have enough of that stuff to drink is a match for the king. Let Ralph Campbell and all his tribe go down for all I care,” He ate and drank voraciously, while she ate nothing, and busied herself in supplying his wants, There was something redeeming in the fierce love this strange old woman bore her son,
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Awkward and ungainly though he was, a villain of the deepest dye, a murderer at he :rt, yet she Joved him with that savage sort of affection which the tigress feels for her whelp. She watch- ed his every movement, and kept cutting off juicy pieces from the roasting meat and putting them on his plate, poured out his liquor, and seemed to take delight in every morsel he took, * How’s your poor back now, Tommy?” ** Better, mother, better. That ’intment is the right sort and it takes right hold. You'd better put that bottle in my knapsack for me, so I kin dress it when the cloth gits dry.” She sprung up and began to pack his knap- sack, putting in everything she thought he might need upon the road, and leaving her work now and then to cut off more meat for him. He seemed to appreciate her devotion too, in his rough way. “Tm afraid you got a ent yourself when you kem between Tim Murphy and me this mornin’,” he said. “T didn’t feel it, Tommy. I'd ’a’ took them all for your sake. Didn’t I offer to take ’em?”’ “So you did, old woman,” said Tom, ‘* You do think a heap of me, that’s a fact. Never you mind; we'll make it even with Ralph Campbell and the rest. You nigh about knifed him as it was.” “ Didn’t I strike hard and sure, Tommy? He’s mighty quick with his hands or it would have gone to his heart; I only wish it had.” “That wouldn’t do on no accouht, old woman. They'd ’a’ strung you up for it, and then IP’d’a’ had all the work to do alone, which wouldn’t suitme. Thar; we’ve talked long enough. You finish packing and [Il go and cut some wood.” For some moments the old woman worked away, while the sound of her son’s ax came in through the half-open door as he labored away upon the wood. As she worked she crooned out a weird song of elves and ghouls, of witches who sat on the galiows top and perched on the moun- tain or rode on the rising blast. A strange, un- earthly melody, and what was more wonderful still, in a voice of liquid sweetness, totally differ- ent from the cracked and shrill tones in which she spoke. “Yes, yes, yes,” she murmured, “ blood will have blood and hate will tell its story. Tl have my revenge upon the Campbells, father and son, They little know, ha, ha! who Mag the Witch is, though I wouldn’t have the old man know me even now, or he’d understand why it is I hate all who bear the name. Tommy’s heart is soft be- cause the girl gave him water to drink. Bah, if she isn’t of the Campbell blood, isn’t she raising a chief of the hated name? A curse upon them all, Vl stop the name and the race with this generation, if I have to murder them all and die, And yet, the time seems too far off; there was a day when Mag the Witch would have given her life for one of the same proud and cruel race. He is in his grave years ago, and lam Mag the Witch, Mag Dockstader, the wife of the half- breed. Bah!” The sound of the ax still came through the open door, and the old woman stopped with some little article in her hand which she was ‘about to put into the knapsack. ** And I married the half-breed! What did it Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. matter to me, since every hope I had was with- ered and dead. [married him, but little did I think then that I should mourn him dead, orlove his child. And such a child as heis! Rough and rude, an outlawed man, with the stripes which law has laid upon his back still burning. Why do Llove him so? Because I know that in his veins courses the same unforgiving blood which burns in mine. Because I know that he will stop at nothing, not even blood, for venge- ance’ sake; and he has been a true son to me,’ She stopped in her work, and sitting down upon the floor, took out a little golden locket from some secret place in her dress and touched a spring. It revealed two faces, one that of a young man in the uniform of an officer in the Royal Americans, with a bold, handsome face and a firm lip, and the other a beautiful woman with a glorious face, but with an eye from which smoldering fire seemed to leap out. even in the pictures. “ Thirty years ago,” she murmured, touching the face of the man witb her lips, ‘‘ and for you this woman would have dared anything. Now, a wrinkled and withered crone, old before her time, she sits and looks upon your pictured face and wonders that such a change could ever come, Ha! here comes Tommy.” . She hid the locket in her dress and was strap- ping the knapsack when her son entered. ‘All ready, old woman?” he said, “Yes, Tommy, all ready.” He took déwn a rifle from the wall, with av horn and bullet-pouch, and threw a knapsack over his shoulder. ‘* You keep still for a week, then,” he said, ‘‘ and at three o’clock on Tuesda: night come down to the river side, and you sha. hear from me. Mebbe I won't come myself, but it don’t matter.” She threw her old arm about his neck and just touched his dark cheek with her lips, and he was out in the forest, treading steadily northward in the gathering gloom. CHAPTER III. THE MUTE CHIEF, RatpH CAMPBELL was the nephew of one of the leading pioveers in Central New York. He bad been offered a commission in the previous year, but had steadily refused it, preferring to work upon his many acres and help build up the country of his choice. No part of the great State in which we live can claim greater beauty than that portion which lies south of the central chain of lakes. A glorious country, hemmed in by low moantains, and in the center of the beautiful valley, at the head-waters of the Susquehanna, lay the beautiful village of Cherry Valley. At the time of the settlement, the valley was filled — with groves of wilil cherries, then in full bloom, and Dunlop, one of the pioneers, pointing to them, exclaimed: ‘‘ Let us give our place an ap- propriate name.” And they called it, “‘Cherry ~ Valley.” 5 Ralph Campbell, with the powerful aid of his uncle, became one of the most promising men of the valley. Knowing as he did that a know- ledge of woodcraft is necessary in a country like this, he had taken lessons in that art from Tim — Murphy, than whom no one was better able to chs
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EPR ne SF eos pt Oa PIE SB a igs IRE Ne Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. \ Le _ give instruction. This strange man had early taken up the life of a hunter and scout, and ~ though still retaining his many peculiarities was known far and near for his great gifts. Posses- sing a powerful frame, swift of foot, quick of eye and hand, and a dead shot, he was the beau ideal of the forest man. Four days after the punishment and banish- ment of Dockstader, Tim came in from a hunt. He appeared ill at ease and muttered to himself ashe walked along, and Ralph could not help noticing it. ““What is the matter with you, Tim? You _ look downcast.” “That lam,” he said. ‘I've been speaking with that born devil, Mag the Witch.” “*Pshaw! what do you care for her?” ‘Yes; but she’s been tellin’ my fortune,” re- plied Tim, ‘‘ although I asked her not, and you may just bet it was the worst fortune I ever had told me. ‘ Fire can’t burn you, or water drown,’ she sez; ‘but your death is the cord an’ tree?’ think of that, Ralph; me to hang! By jinks, I don’t like it; you may say what you like, but I don’t like it.” “Ts that all?” “‘ That’s enough, I should say. But that ain’t all. She told me that you, and all your fam’ly, would be under the sod in a matter of four days,” _“‘ Nonsense; I never was in better health inmy life, as far as I am concerned, and Myra and the boy look healthy enough. Look at this fellow,” he said, catching up the beautiful boy, as he was running past him. ‘‘ What do you say to him?” “*¥fe’s a fine lad; there ain’t a better in the colony. But, I’m nat’rally superstitious, and the old hag’s words seemed to come from her heart.” **So they might. If she bad her way, we would all die this hour, for driving her hopeful _, son out of the colony. A good riddance, I say, and I'll deal out the like punishment to every 3 horse-thief I can catch, you may swear to that.” 4} At this moment, Mag appeared at the entrance ; ict to the muin street, and came slowly toward them, i Her form seemed more erect, and her eyes had a --_—_—__—cbrighter gleam as she saw the objects of her tga hatred; and she quickened her pace. ee Good-day, Mag,” said Ralph. ‘‘I hope you are well.” “Tt was a black day in which J ever saw the face of a Campbell,” replied Mag. ‘ You let me alone to go my way and domy work. Time will show whether you, the descendant of an old house, the strong young man and leader of men, can be a match for the despised Mag the Witch, - as fools call me.” The sound of a merry song was heard, and ‘yra came out upon the steps, but her sweet voice was hushed and her eyes fell, as she saw _ the malevolent glance of the old woman fixed ere® os e re: iiss “ Young and happy, young and happy,” she 3a mribtered.- “Let me tell your fortune, I, who can read the signs of the past and the future up- on the open palm. Ihave the gift of second sight, and looking at your face, lread there a terrible danger hanging over your head. A _ danger so Sete and sudden that you can not _ avertit, Iseem to hear the tolling bell which “ = $ iS = t rings outfor the dead, andIsee you lying in your coffin,” “Hag,” shouted Ralph, as he saw his wifo turn deadly paleand tremble. ‘‘ Dare to speak in that way again, and try to terrify my wife, and I will have you sent after your villainous son. ‘Little cares Mag the Witch for any thing which you can do,” she answered, boldly. ‘* Lay a hand on me, and you are dead. See; this knife I hold is poisoned. The slightest touch, enough to raise the skin and draw blood upon you, and you will trouble me no more.” She held in her hand a long, thin knife, witha blade which glittered like silver in the sun-rays. About an inch of the point was stained with some dark, glutinous substance, at which Mag looked with a bitter laugh, while Myra seized her husband’s arm and drew him back. “For heaven’s sake, Ralph, do not make her angry. Go away, Mrs. Dockstader, if you have any pity.” **T have none, none for the Campbell blood. Stand back, Ralph Campbell, and listen to the words I have to say. You have driven my son away and left me alone, an old woman in my solitary home, with no companions except a wolf-hound, a cat, and my own thoughts. Do you wonder that those thoughts are sometimes bitter? You have done this, and sooner or later I will have my revenge.” She turned hastily away, just as a party of Indians came into the village, walking in the midst of the street and looking about them with quick, searching glances. One of them was an old man, with a face of surpassing ugliness, and a deformed back, and the other, a repulsive- looking warrior of middle age, painted in fan- tastic colors. A child, not more than ten years old, followed them, carrying in his hand a min- iature bow and arrow, and dressed in a gaudy roba of wolf-skin. Little Ralph was attracted by the appearance of this young savage, and pointed bim out to. his father, ‘* Let me see him shoot, father. Won’t you ask him to let me see him shoot?” “T know that chief, Tim,” said Ralph, in an uneasy tone, ‘It is Neadawa, the Mute Chief. What is he doing here?” “Tt’s a long path to the Mohawk lodges,” re- plied Tim, ‘‘and the Mute Chief never makes long journeys for nothing. I don’t understand it, myself, nor what should bring the medicine- man with him.” “*T will speak to Neadawa,” replied Ralph. “You must know that the times are ominous, and in the évent of war, the Mohawks will be our enemies, Go into the house, Myra, and take Ralph with you.” But little Ralph objected strenously to this, and begged so hard, that bis mother allowed him to remain. Neadawa advanced, and came to a halt just in front of Campbell, looking at him with a stolid, unwavering attention, his eyes cold aud hard as steel. He was a powerful fellow, in the dress of a Mohawk warrior of high rank, with the totem of his tribe marked in India ink upon his naked breast. The old man had a keen, cunning eye, which twinkled and danced as he gazed, in a remarkable manner.
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. “ Neadawa is very welcome here,” said Ralph, extending his hand. ‘‘The Mohawks are always welcome to the lodges of their white brothers,” Neadawa simply inclined his head, still look- ing steadily at the speaker. Then, turning to the old Indian, he wreathed his fingers together after the manner of mutes, with a rapid motion which it was almost impossible to follow. “What does he say?’ demanded Ralph turn- ing to the medicine-man. ‘ He says that the words of Campbell sink in- to his heart, and he will gladly‘accept the hos- pitality of his brother, and remember it,” re- plied the medicine-man. ‘Ts Neadawa hungry?” said Campbell. The Mute Chief inclined his head. “Thon let him enter the house and take food. Our doors are alwaysopen to the Mohawks, while we are friends, Who is the boy?” “He is the son of Neadawa, and we are teaching him how to become a chief.” “Tet him stay with my little boy and take care of him. Perhaps he would show my son how he can shoot when we are gone.” The medicine-man said a few words in the Indian language to the boy, and he remained at tho door, stringing his bow for a shot, and nodding to little Ralph, who was in eestasies at the hope of seeing him shoot, Neadawa followed Campbell into the house, and Tim sat down upon the steps to watch the two boys. “ Now what brought them Injins here, that’s what I want to know? The Mute Chief ain’t no friend to us, that I know. Seein’ that he ain’t, bu’st mo if I understand what cail he has to be here at all.” * Ralph left the two Indians together while he went out and spoke to Myra and asked her to prepare some food for the visitors. While he was gone, the hands of Neadawa were busy, wreathing out short sentences, to whici: the otber replied in an undertone. Their keen eyes roved about the room with unusual interest, taking in every object. When Ralph returned he found them sitting erect upon chairs which had been laced for them, looking at each other in silence. Iph called them out into the kitchen and ae food before them, of which they partook ut sparingly. “It is a long road to the Mohawk villages,” said Ralph. ‘“ Why are my brothers hore?” ‘The country is open for the Mohawk to walk in; he will go where he likes,” said the medicine- /man, interpreting for Neadawa, “Certainly. The white men are always glad when their red friends come to visit them. Let Neadawa rest in our lodges.” “The country is ours,” said the other, ‘‘ When the Lenni nies were a great tribs, they dwelt here and hunted beside the pleasant river. But the Lenni Lenape are no more; not a man lives of the great tribe of the Tortoise, and if the white man had his way, the wings of the Mo- hawk gs 1 would be clipped so that he could not fly. Neadawa comes, but not in love. He comes to see wherein lies the power of the great race of the white man, and to study how his people may be like them.” ‘I will teach you how,” replied Ralph. “* Learn ‘to know that in peace, not in war, lies the strength of a great nation. Live upon the soil as we do, and plant corn and wheat—” _ Neadawa uttered a terrible cry and bounded to his feet, with his hand upon his hatchet, which he half-drew from his belt. His face was so terrible in its expression that Campbell nerved himself for a great struggle, and Tim Murphy ran in with a drawn knife. But the old Monawk flashed a single sentence at the Mute Chief from his quick fingers, so quick that the others had no conception ef it, and the face of the chief sunk into calm, ‘*He was very angry,” said the medicine-man, “because you thought he would work like a woman in a cornfield. Never insult him by that thought again, or he will kill you.” Campbell said nothing more, but told Tim to give the boy some food. ‘Ralph has done that already,” said Tim. “ He’s taken a mighty great fancy to the Indian, and laughs every time he hits the white in the target. He ain’t hungry now.” “That is all right,” said Ralph. ‘*Go and find the colonel and ask him to come down here. He has wanted to see some chief of the Six Nations for a long time, and I have promised to call him. You would be glad to see him, would you not, Neadawa?” The mute fingers said: “ Let the gray hair come; he is welcome.” Colonel Campbell came down immediately, and held a long talk with Neadawa through the medium of the medicine-man. He found the chief very stubborn, too apt to dwell upon old grievances and to repine because so many white men lived upon the soil whereon he had ~ been bred, Neadawa was a mystery to many along that border. Even among the Mohawks he was spoken of mysteriously, and no one could tell his lineage. Since he had been among them he had steadily fought bis way up, by bravery in war, to a secondary rank among the war-chiefs of that powerful tribe in which he claimed a home. How he became dumb, whether by na- ture or by some cruel act or shock, no one knew, not even the Mohawks, He came and went like a shadow, being often absent from the village for months, when be would come back as silent- ly as he went, bringing scalps and» spoils, At length, from the Hudson on the east to Niagara on the west, from the great lakes to Pennsyl- vania, he became known and feared. He always came attended by the same henchman, known among the whites as Whistling Wind, who in- terpreted his speeches. “J can’t say that I really like the way in which the fellow talks,” said the elder Campbell, who was the acknowledged head of the settle- oe “Ts he worth the trouble of concilia- ion “ Decidedly; there is but one who is more to be feared.” “And that one?” “ Joseph Brant.” eit “T understand you, and will acknowledge that Brant has power, and has learned a My] deal under. the fostering care of Sir William. As for this man, since you think it worth our while, I will make much of him. Perhaps I had better invite him to my house.” oa te fa if i te : 48 -
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. ‘** As you like about that, although I hardly think he will stay over nighe in the village. I have heard that even when at home he spends his nights in the woods, apart from all compan- ionship.” When asked the question, whether he would stay, the Indian shook his head, “ He will not rest beneath a white man’s roof in Cherry Valley,” said Whistling Wind, watch- ing his rapid fingert. ‘‘The woods are his de- fense by day or night. Under the branches he will sleep, under the branches die, The sweet water will sing near him, making sweet music as he lies asleep, with his dog and gun beside bim.’ “Have you heard that there is talk of dig- ing up the hatchet against us on the part of ngland?” “T have heard it,” replied Whistling Wind, looking at Neadawa’s fingers. “What do you think of it?” “Tf I bad a child and it would not obey me when I spoke, I would beat it with rods. You are the children of the great English father, and if you are wicked he will whip you.” * And the Indians?” “They are dutiful children,” replied Whist- ling Wind. ‘' They will help the great king.” “Tf thought so,” muttered Ralph. ‘ A curse upon them, how they will harry our exposed towns when the strife comes, Must you go, chief?” “ Neadawa will go.” “Will you come again?” ‘* Ask the wind: I cannot tell. Do not look for me, for when I come it may not be in Cor “They stalked proudly out and found the young Indian and Ralph conversing by signs as well as they could. Evidently fast friends already. The young Mohawk had made Ralph a present of his bow, and was giving him lessons iu its use, and the little fellow was really mak- ing good progress, and was sadly put out when Neadawa signed to his son to follow. Accustom- ed to implicit obedience, the boy touched the forehead of Ralph with his own in a tender way, and followed his father, looking back from time to time before the forest hid them from view. Scarcely were they out of sight when Tim Murphy appeared, walking at a quick pace with lis rifle slung across his arm and his pistols in his belt. He too plunged into the woods and followed the trail of the Indians, who had moved off toward the river, and when he came in sight of Mag’s cabin he could see them standing in a up before the door and Mag was talking with hem, All at once the chief raised his head and pointed toward the bushes where Tim lay ‘ concealed. He saw Mag make a gesture of fury and rush into the house, from which she emerged the mo- ment after followed by a huge wolf-hound. “Seek him,” he heard her say, and the dog immediately began a circuit, widening it more and more as he proceeded, and Tim immediately began to retreat. The dog was of tremendous strength, and few men would have liked to have a struggle with him. Tim’s rifle was loaded, and he threw it forward ready for action, just as the dog broke through the bushes in front. Undecided for a moment, and not wishing to killa valuable dog if he could help it, Tim tried his voice upon the animal, and he wavered, but the shrill voice of Mag cried, ‘‘ Take bim, Blood!” The dog uttered a fierce snarl, and sprung at him so suddenly that Tim could take no aim, and fired almost at random. The next moment the paws of the huge brute were upon his shoulders, and his distended jaws within a foot of his face. Tim made a dash at bis throat with his left hand even while be drew his knife, and the two rolled to the earth together, the powerful left hand of Murpby wreathed in the loose skin upon the dog’s neck, while the huge brute made al- most superhuman efforts to free himself. After a desperate trial of strength, Tim managed to free his knife and struck two heayy blows, and he felt the warm blood spurt out into his very face, and the struggles of the dog were over. Just then Mag hurried to the spot, in time to see the wolf-hound lying dead upon the sod, and Tim wiping the blood from his knife upon his shaggy hair. Inher first rage the old woman flew at him with the utmost fury, fastening her long fingers in his throat, but Tim shook her off with an angry exclamation. “You have killed my dog!” she screamed, “Have 1? Then what call had you to set your dog on an old hunter? I weard you, old woman, when you sung out, ‘Take him, Blood,’ Sounds kind o’ friendly, don’t it?” ‘**'You lie, you scoundrel! You want an ex- cuse to kill my dog, and I'll bave your blood for it! “Oh, git out, Mag. Have my blood? You won't have auybody’s blood, you won’t; so don’t think it. You set your dog on me and I killed him, and you know your dog well enough to be sart’in that it’s either him or me that had to 0.” “Coward, to rob an old woman of her only guard!” ‘Seems to me he ain’t your only guard. What is Neadawa and Whistling Wind doing at your cabin?” “Tf they choose to stop a moment, who have a better right than the owners of the soil?” ‘Old babit is strong, Mag. Now you know right well that Jake Dockstader wa’n’t a hand- some fellow, nor the best man upon the face of the airth, and that be had the same cussed hank- ering arter the red heathen—and I know why.” **'You do!” “Bet your life, I do. Mixed blood, you know, will have a leaning one way or the other.” ‘“ What do you mean by mixed blood, you lying thief! ho has mixed blood?” “Oh, pshaw; jest as if you didn’t know that, critter. Jake Dockstader was a half-breed Mo- hawk, and nobody knows it better than you do, Consekently your son come by his knavish tricks honest enuff, he did.” = ‘‘Have you told this to any one?” she said after a pause. ‘Nobody knew my husban among all who camé to Cherry Valley except ou.” me Tain’t got any call to tell it everywhere; Tm nota blower. But you git out of the way, forI’m going down to the cabin to seo that
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. every thing is right. I’ve got my suspicions of you, TI allow, and I won’t feel easy until I work em out.” ‘You will go to the cabin?” she hissed. “T must, Mag; git out of the way.” “T warn you not; it won’t be safe for you if you try it.” “Why not? You don’t think I’m afraid of your claws, old woman.” *"T don’t know whether you are or not, but I warn you to be caretul, and go back to the vil- lage.’ ‘ll see you furder fu’st.” Crash! A heavy blow from an invisible hand descended on his head, and he lay senseless at the feet of his arch-enemy. CHAPTER IV. TIM A PRISONER. WHEN Tim’s consciousness returned he was lying bound in some place so dark, that when he raised his hand before his face he could not see it Where he was he could not tell, but his head was throbbing with pain, and the blood was running down his face, Whoever it might have been who struck him, he had given a ter- rible blow, and for the time had robbed those strong-knit sinews of their strength, and he lay helpless, trying to study out the secret of his position. His feet were firmly bound, and al- though he could raise his hands to his face, he felt that they were confined at the wrist by strong cords. Tim lay quict waiting for his strength to come back, © could hear « muffled sound over his head as of some persons engaged in conversation, but could not make out any thing they said. Soon after a gleam of light broke in upon him as he lay, a door was opened, and Mag, holding a lighted candle in her hand, came slowly down the steps. She had a platter in one hand containing a loaf of coarse bread, some venison steaks, and a pitcher of water, and regarded the prisoner with a malevolent eye. ‘*So it was your work, old woman,” said the hunter, looking at her fiercely. ‘ All right; one of these days Twill be even with you.” “Your one of these days may never come to you, my fine boy,” replied Mag. ‘You don’t think I mean to let you go free?—not quite such a fool as that, I hope.” “ You’d better let me go. by it, you old hag?” “Good names, good names, my master, unless you wish your impvisonment to come to an end- ing you haven’t bargained for.” ‘Tn what way?” She drew her forefinger across her throat with a savage leer which he was not slow to under- stand, “You mean to say that you will cut my throat?” ‘‘ Precisely; it will take but a few more in- sults upon your part to make me doit. My fin- gers itch for it now, and I should like to catch you by the neck and choke your life out.” The bloodthirsty old hag actually oped and shut her fingers as if she held him in her grasp, with that demoniac look still upon her face. ‘*T believe you would do it,” muttered Tim. ** Now look here; I’m a man as ready to faco What do you mean death as any man alive, and if it is my fate to die here, ’m ready to doit, Curse you, why do you look at me in that way? Do your worst, for 1 defy you.” **Perhaps 1 can make you sing in a lower key than that, Master Murphy. If it were my cus to kill you now, 1 wouldn’t wait long, for I hate you because yours was the hand to lay the bloody stripes upon the back of my son.” “Td do the same again. Come; how do you like that? Ifit was to do over again, ’'d give him eighty lashes instead of thirty-nine.” “Take care; you'll drive me to it if you don’t look out,” she screamed, “Tdon'tcare, It’s but little mercy I expect from you at any rate, and you won't do any worse than kill me. But if I do get loose, old wretch, I pity your bones.” Mag gave utterance to a cackling laugh, and set down the dish before him, “There, eat, eat. 1 won’t starve even the man I mean to kill, T'll leave the candle for you. She went out, and Tim sat upand looked hard 3 at the provisions. There was something in the look of the old woman which made him suspi- cious, and be took up the loaf and broke it, applying it to his nostrils instead of his mouth. ‘*It would be just like ber to p*izon it,” mut- tered Tim, ‘‘and by the etarnal she has, I kin smell it, i€ I kain’t see it. No, no, old lady; I ain’t a-goin’ to taste your fodder, I ain’t,” He broke up the bread, and digging a hole in the soft earth upon which he lay, pup part of it, together with the meat, of which he dared not taste, into the hole, and covered it up. When Mag came down half an hour after. she found the half-demolished fragments of the loaf lying upon the tray, the venison gone, and the pitcher half empty. He was lying partly upon his face, moaning feebly, apparently in great pain, “What is the matter with you?” she said. “You don’t look well.” ‘*No more I ain’t,” he said. ‘‘ That fodder of yours don’t seem to agree with me somehow, and it leaves a mighty queer taste in my mouth, lwish you'd git some fresh water. That in the pitcher don’t seem tobe right, somehow.” “ Ain’t well, you say?” said Mag, in devilish glee. ‘*Ob, yes, Pll get some fresh water; I'll do that much for you now,” She took the pitcher, poured out the contents, and went to.a spring in the corner of the cellar, where she rinsed the pitcher carefully and brought it back to him, and he drank freely. “That’s something Ilke it. I seemed to be burning up inside. There’s the pain again, Mag, you’ve done something with that grub.” ‘“No, I haven’t done anything of the kind, Don’t be a baby because you’ve got a colic; any one is liable to that.” “Never had a colic act this way afore,” groaned Tim. ‘‘Oh Lord,’ how it does hurt! If you’ve put anything into that bread to finish me, the Lord forgive you for it.” . “Tl go up and oe you some brandy,” sh said, ‘‘I never did see just such a man as you are to make a fuss about a trifle. If you don’t beat all the men. Are you any worse?” ‘* Worse all the time. Oh, what a pain it is! Can’t you do something for me, Mag?—I feel ag Ra ord eee Se et
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. il if I should go crazy, tied upasIam. If I could only move about it mou’t help me.” g took up the light and ran out of the cellar. The two Indians were sitting in the room above, for it was in the cellar of the cabin in which Mag lived that Tim was confined. They looked at her inquiringly. “Tt is done,” she said. ‘* He will never see another sunrise.” Neadawa made a gesture of delight, and sprung up as if he would go into the cellar. But Mag restrained him. **Don’t you go down,” she said, ‘ Tis not of use for you to see him, and I’m right sorry to have to doit. Before they tied my son up and whipped him, Tim wasn’t a bad fellow, and did me many a good turn. Let him die, since die he must, but let him die alone.” “How long will it be?” said the medicine- man, who had not spoken. ‘Tn a hour he will be dead.” ‘*Good,” said the other. ‘‘ We will wait.” He sat down again, and all three seemed to listen for the sound which came from below. Muffied cries couid be heard from time to time, asof a man in agony, and whenever he heard these Neadawa started, and cast a quick look at the immovable face of Mag, who sat with a half- smile upon her lips, waiting for the deatb. “Tigh,” said the medicine-man, turning to Neadawa. ‘‘This woman should have been a warrior, for she has the heart of a great brave.” Neadawa flashed an answer back from his quick fingers, at which his companion nodded. ut the chief was evidently ill at ease, and kept his eyes fixed upon the floor, listening to every sound, Though a mute, bis sense of hearing was preternaturasly acute, and be seemed to hear the slightest sound, ‘“*Where is the boy?” demanded Mag. ‘Do you mean to have him see it when we bring it out?” Neadawa shook his head, and rising, went out and found the boy; who was sitting upon a log near the door. Neadawa touched him on the shoulder and gave some order through his me- dium of speech, and the boy rose and went down to the river side, out of sight_of the house, when Neadawa returned. At this moment a terrible Sey TURE through the house, and then all was still. _~ That is the end,” said Mag. ‘‘ Let us go to im. She opened the door which led to the cellar, and placed a stool behind it so that it could not close again, and then held the light while they went down. Neadawa saw Tim Murphy lyin upon his face, his eyes staring wide open, anc foam running out of his mouth. They turned him over and the medicine-man lifted his hand, which dropped like lead, and they were sure that he was dead, though the body was yet warm, ‘So perish all the enemies of Mag the Witch,” she said, in a voice of savage intentness, ‘‘ Bring _ him out, into the air, and let us make him a grave.” No bonds were needed now. A stronger band than man could make held the brave hunter now, and they cut the cords upon his myscular hands and feet, and lifting the yet warm body, carried itup the stairs and into the open air. It was growing dark now, and Mag Jed the way down a forest path toward the river, though not toward the place where the boy was sitting. Close to the river side was a growih of wild cherries in a sandy soil, nnd bere the Indian laid the body down, and Neadawa, taking the spade which Mag had brought, began to scoop out a shallow grave. Tae others helped him, one with a hatchet and the other with a sharp stick, loosening the soil that he might dig it out. While they labored, all three were startled by a wild laugh, and looked about in dismay. “Whois that?” whispered Mag. ‘‘ What ngise is that?” ‘*Murderers!” cried a hollow voice. pare to meet your dcom.” With one accord, stopping for nothing, they fled away, leaving the body lying by the shallow “ Pre- grave which they had dug. With wild eyes and pale faces they ran, hardly looking behind them until they had gone some hundred yards from the plave, when all stopped at the voice of fag. ** We are fools,” she said. ‘If this voice was nothing earthly, what have we to fear? If it was mortal, I must know who it is, or my doom is sealed. Come back unless you would bave a woman shame you for your cowardice, for I will go alone.” Their first fright over, they followed her quickly, and reached the place where the grave was dug, They found the grave and spade as they had left it, but the body was gone. ‘** May the blight fall upon the man who has done this,” screamed Mag. ‘* We are outwitted, fooled, made a mock of.” “Ha, ha, ba!” sbrieked a voice close at band. “A grave without a body! A walking corpse. Ha, ha, ba!” Neadawa caught up his hatchet and ran hastily in the direction in which the voice was heard, followed by the medicine-man and Mag. The fierce old woman had drawn the knife with which she bad threatened Ralph Campbell, and bounded along with a strength and vigor hardly to be looked for in one so cld. But the dark- ness was gathering fast about them, and they stumbled over sticks and stones, until they heard the same hollow laugh in the direction of the cabin, and Mag actually screamed aloud in ber rage, and turued toward her house. When they reached it a bright glow shone from the windows, greater than the light of the fireplace could produce, and then a flood of flame shot out at the latticed window and the whole place was ina blaze. Mag threw herself down upon the earth and sobbed like a ebild. ‘Fate is against me and will not let me have revenge. Fools that we were, thrice doubled fools. to carry him out until we were sure he was dead. He never touched the poison,” “Bet your life he didn’t,” cried the voice of Timm Murphy from the woods. ‘ No such fool. Good-by, old gal. Take care of yourself until we meet again.” A few words will explain the phenomena of Tim’s sudden resuscitation. He had been * sham- ming Abraham,” as the slang phrase has it, and being something of 9 ventriloquist, bad
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i2 Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. been enabled readily to put his enemies to flight. Then after drawing them off into the woods he had doubled on his tracks and set fire to the cabin, and Mag the witch was houseless, home- less, in the great forest. Though she had de- served this for ber crimes, let us own that: “Tt was a trying moment that, which found her, Standing alone beside her desolate hearth, Wh a all her household gods lay shattered round er. This wicked old woman loved her home. In it she had spent her happiest hours, if they could be called happy, listening while her son recounted the evil deeds he had done, and laughed over the rage of those he had victim- ized. Now, in a few moments that humble roof would be but a charred and blackened mass of ruins. The Indians did not speak, but stood silently regarding the ruins. ‘¢ Another wrong to avenge,” said Mag. “ Ar- other entry in the record of my hate.” “Tt is good,” said the medicine-man. ‘‘ My mother will have many things to remember. Let her not forget that we are here to give her that revenge she seeks.” “ To-night; shall it be to-night?” *T'o-night if you wish; what care we?” * I wish it to be at once, and the quicker the better. I can stay here no longer, for Tim Murphy will give me no rest, Let us do the work we have before us, and at once.” CHAPTER. V. THE TERRIBLE BLOW. RaLpH CAMPBELL and his family were at rest, sleeping the sleep of the just. The village was quiet, and not @ sound save the murmur of the night-wind through the bending boughs, could be heard. The houses were all closed for the night and nota light gleamed in the whole village, nor was there a watchman in the streets. In the thick darkness there stole through the silent street three figures, moving on like ghosts, steadily, with silent feet, as if they trod on air. Now and then they paused and laid themselves prostrate upon the earth to listen, and then went forward stooping, with the decided move- ment of men who knew what they meant to do, and how to doit. Through the narrow street they went until they reached Campbell’s house, which stood a little apart from the rest, ina grove of young trees. They stole round to the rear of the house, when the leader raised his hand as a signal for caution, and pointed to the shutter of the win- dow. The small figure in the cloak thrust a hand into an aperture cut in the glass, and pulled out the bolt, swinging the window back to its full stretch, and they stole on until they reached an open door. Upon the table a lamp burnea dimly, but enough to light up the scene. Upon a bed in one corner lay Ralph and Myra Campbell, sleeping. In a crib between the door and the bed lay little Ralph, with the bow which Neadawa’s son had given him, sleeping sweetly, with a smile upon his innocent young face. Silent as specters the three stolein and ap- proached the bed of their victims. The figure in the cloak glided to the bedside and looked down upon them. Then, with quick fingers, the intruders made two gags by wrapping a hand- kerchief about the middle of a short stick, and thrust them into the mouths of the sleepin pair. Ralph awoke instantly, but only to fin his mouth stopped by the gag, while Myra, springing up, was clinched by the throat and passed at once into a swoon from fright and horror. Then the cloak dropped to the floor and revealed the sallow face and bent form o Mag, the Witch. Aha!” she whispered, in a blood-curdling tone. ‘‘Ttold you toat my turn would come. Do not lift your hand to the gag, for as surely as youdo you aredead. I have come to take revenge upon you for the injury you did to my son when he was helpless in your hands, A wo- man who has the courage of a man can do much for the sake of those she loves, and even I, Mag the Witch, decrepit, old, worn out, have studied out this plan. Bring the boy here, Neadawa.” The Mute, for indeed it was the silent chief, brought the sleeping boy in his arms and put him ina chair near the bed, Mag sat down be- side him, laid his head in her lap and allowed the hand which held the dagger to rest upon his breast. 5 “ Before we remove the gags, for I want to hear you beg for mercy, let me say to you that if you raise your voice above the ordinary con- versational tone I will bury this dagger in the boy’s heart. Take the gag from his mouth, Neadawa.” The chief complied, and Ralph partly raised himself in bed and looked at her, his eyes full of nameless terror. ‘To-day my house is in ruins, Ralph Camp- bell,” she said. ‘‘ And your myrmidon, Tim Murphy, is the man who is guilty of the great crime of turning an old woman houseless into the forest.” “Do you blame him for that? Did you not try to take his life?” said Ralph. F “So he told you that, and doubtless laughed when he told you how he outwitted the old wo- man. Well, his time will come, too, and heshall repent. Do you know why I sought his life? Because he is the man who lashed my son, by your orders, and because to-day he killed my dog, the only guard I had.” Just then the eyes of the young wife uuclosed. As she saw the dark faces clustered about the bed she would have cried out, but the cruel gag — prevented her. She put her hand to her mouth | to drag it away, but Neadawa stopped her with his strong hand. “Tell her that if she makes a sound without my permission it will be death to the boy,” cried the fierce old hag. ‘‘Now remove the gag, Neadawa.” The Indian put out his long arm and tore off the handkerchief. “* You must come with us. Neadawa, you can go into the hall and wait. Ralph Campbell, arise, and dress yourself, and let your wife do the same.” ; She rose, still holding the boy in her arms, and moved her chair to the other side of the room. Neadawa hesitated, and she made him a quick signal. The two Indians left the room and the unfor« —
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. tunate couple rose and dressed hastily, while Mag sat as immovable as a stone image with the knife ready*for a blow. When they were dressed she called in the In- dians, and Ralph and Myra were again gagged and their hands tied behind them, and im this } situation were forced to walk out of the house. Through the silent village that strange party made their way, the Indians walking on either side, and Mag Senda up the rear, still holding the boy in her arms. “You are to make no attempt to escape,” Mag had said, when they started. ‘‘ If you do, you know the result will be fatal to this boy.” On they went, leaving the village behind them, until they stood in the open space in front of the ruined house where Mug had lived so long. The fire was still burning and flashing a lurid light about the little opening. Ralph was bound to a tree and the gag removed, and Mag set the boy down, who was by this time wide awake, “Why have we been brought here?’ said Ralph. ; * You will know that soon enough,” replied Mag, with a look of sinister meaning. ‘‘ Where is your boy, Neadawa? It is better, if he is to be trained as a warrior, that he should see how we punish those of the hated race,” eadawa produced a small whistle which he applied to his mouth and blew a shrill blast. The next moment the boy appeared from his Station beside the river, which, young as he was, he would not leave until he received orders to the contrary. Now let us to work. Whistling Wind, you will take charge of the Jady and see that she does not interrupt us, and the less trouble she makes the better for the boy. Untie him.” The bonds were removed from the bands of Campbell, and he was taken from the tree. * Take off your coat.” ‘“‘- What do you mean to do?” “Bring the boy to me, Whistling Wind. I see that my dear friend is going to make trouble.” Ralph, without another word, threw off his coat and pulled his arms out of his shirt, and let it drop about his waist. He understood now tae refinement of vengeance upon the part of Mag, and determined to bear it as well as he could, sooner than leave his boy in danger. He was again tied, with his face to the tree, while Myra ‘ Gr pasied vainly in the strong arnis of Whistling ind. “Do your work, you she-devil, and say no more about it.” “Don’t hurry me, please.” replied Mag. ‘I never could bear to be hurried, you know. Are you bringing those whips, Neadawa?” - The Indian appeared, carrying in his hands a bundle of beech rods, similar to those with which Tom Dockstader had been flogged. For the first time the Mute Chief began to show signs of pleasure in the work. His eyes sparkled, and he looked gloatingly at the exposed back of the bound man, and handled the rods as if he longed to use them. “Why don’t you beg for mercy, you?” cried Mag. “Why don’t you ask me to let you go? Ab, you saw the blood run down my son’s poor back and were pleased. Let us’see how you will like it yourself. What is it, Neadawa?” The chief made a quick signal with his finger. “You want to do the whipping?” Neadawa nodded assent, ‘I'm afraid you won’t do him justice, I hate him so that 1 think nobody could lay it on as I will.” The chief shook his head, and again moved his fingers quickly. “Well, Pll give you half the work, because you have been of great servicetome. You shall take the last half.” With a delighted face the dark savage selected a strong rod, and gave it into her hand, and she took her station, raising the rod high above her head. Ina frenzy of rage she struck, screaming as he had done when her son was punished: “One!” There was something terrible in the vindictive strength of this fiend. The strongest man could not have used the whip with greater effect. Ralph set his teeth hard, and for the first ten lashes bore 1t without a moan, though ridges were rising over his delicate skin, white and smooth as a woman’s, Every blow wrung a cry of agony from Myra, although not from him. She seemed to feel the cruel Llows upon ker own flesh, and when the arm of Mag fell exbausted to her side after the thirtieth blow, she ran to her aud caught her by the arm. “Go. Vindictive old wretch, there will come atime when the evil of your ill-spent life will find you out. As you have hved without pity, so you will die, accursed by every being on the earth. May the son for whose sake you have done this, turn bis hand against you when you die, and may you taste, as I do, the most bitter agony which hate can give.” Mag said not a word, but stood with demoniac glee imprinted upon her face, looking down upon the wreck her band bad made, CHAPTER VI. Lost! Tury found the couple lying on the sod next morning in front of the town, Ralph was bruised and gory, with a scarred and .bloody back, and bound hand and foot. It was the same with Myra in regard to bonds, though but one blow had been struck her. Their captors bad conveyed them back thus near the village, and there left them until morning should come The villagers took up the senseless forms with tender hands and carried them into the town, while the doctor was called in to attend to Ralph’s injuries. When they removed bis cloth- ing, and saw the marks of the terrible rods. they partly understood what has been done, an Tim Murphy uttered a perfect yell of rage. “Here you, Frazier, Nesbitt and Fry, you git your rifles and come along 0’ me. It’s come toa mighty nice pass when housen ar’ broken into by night, and men and wimmen taken out and whipped. We kain’t do no good here, so let’s gi to work.” : “Who do you think did it, Tim?’ asked the man called zier. “T can’t rightly say that I know jest who did it, but this yer’ L do know, that Mag the Witch q
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is ot the bottom of it. Tl hunt her down: you taxe my word for it. Pll hunt her down ef it takes five years. Yes, T will, Now you come along.” The four men armed themselves, and left the house with hurried steps and took their way through the woods in the direction of the ruined cabin of Mag the Witch, scarcely hoping to find her there, and yet not quite certain but that her natural spirit of bravade might prompt her to stay. But her last act had frightened even her, and they found no sign of her preseuce. “ They’ve took to the canoe to break the trail,” said Tim. ‘*That won’t do the work, as she'll find afore she’s done with me.” ‘“What can you do, Tim?’ “Don’t I know wher she'll travel to? Wasn’t Jake Dockstader a half-breed Mohawk? Stands to reason, then, now that she’s turned savage, that she’ll make a break for the Mohawk lodges to bs taken keer of. I sort of opinionate that Tom Dockstader is thar himself.” ‘* You don’t think that?” 5 ** Ain’t he a wolf, vat’rally curse him? Ain’t his mother a she-deyil, and don’t they take to the Mohawks as nat’rally as a baby to milk? I wouldn’t make no more of puttin’ a bullet through that pesky old hag than if she wara turkey-buzzard, He tapped his rifle significantly, and they un- derstood him. Woo to Tom Dockstader if he ever came within reach of that mighty and un- erring weapon. Tim’s rifle was in itself pe- culiar, Few men would have liked to carry the ponderous weapon upon a long march. ft was not only a double-barreled gun—a thing seldom seen in those days—but it had bar- rels of tremendous length, and in his hand fatal to all against whom it was lifted. Thoy burried back to the house, and found that Myra had not yet awakened from her swoon, but lay pale as marble, her pallid lips just parted a little, while her bosom barely seamed to heave. Two or three ladies were laboving to arouse Myra from her deathlike trance, but with little effect. Ralph had been removed to another room, for he had recovered enough to under- stand them, but he was badly burt, and the blood with which his hair was matted, flowed from a terrible cut in his head, evidently the work of an Indian hatchet. They dressed his wounded back as well as taey could, but when the doctor touched ths wound upon his head, he uttered a wild cry and started up in bad, “Lie down again, Ralph,” said the. doctor, putting a firm hand upon-his breast. ‘‘ What do you mean by this, sir?” “Why uave you taken mo out of my grave?” demanded Ralph, in.a wild tone, ‘We were sleeping so sweetly there, Myra and I. No one has the right to disturb us in the place of our “Hush, Ralph; you must not disturb yourself, by talking in that way.” “A wild night, ha! ha!” cried Ralph, “A wild night, and a dark—under the bending boughs. What is this upon my head? Blood! blood; did I not tell you so when vou would drag me out of my grave? Where is Myra? They have taken her away!” Gypsy Mae, the Mountain Witch. “Not at all. better.” ‘“‘ Do you think to fool me with your poisoned drink? Hurrah! the dead are wise, and mortals cannot hope to cheat them, Hush!” ho added, in a blood chilling whisper. ‘I’ve been among the dead, deep down under the grassy sod, in the caverns fuil of dead men’s bones. Merrily they live, under the earth, drinking from skulls the fiery blood. Let me goto them. Ha! ha! “They drink out of skulls newly-torn from the STave, Danaice round them pale specters are seen, Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave ‘They howl: ‘Ha! ha! hal~a merry life itis.” “This is fearful,” whispered the doctor, turn- ing to Judge Campbell, who was in the room. ‘*T fear that this blow has turned his brain, and unless I can get him quiet long enough to ex- amine his wound, nothing can be done for him. Go out, all of you, and let me see what I can do.” They went out, leaving them together, and the doctor sat down on the side of the bed. “Did you see how nicely I got rid of those fellows, Ralph?” he said. ‘They are the ones to blame for awaking you out of your sleep, If I had been here, it would never have happened.” ’ Ralph took the cup, and drained the powerful opiate at once. In a few moments he was silent, and the doctor called in Judge Campbell, They raised his bead and washed the wound carefully in tepid water, and the physician shook his head. The bone was badly splintered and por- tions of the brain exuded. ‘ He set to work at once, carefully removing the splintered pieces of bone as much as he dared. The patient did not move as the work went on, and it was not until the wound was dressed and bandaged, that he began to show signs of life. \ ““Now listen to me, judge,” whispered the doctor. ‘‘ Another shock would Jeave him as had off as ever, You must carefully keep from him the condition of his wife.” “Suppose he awakes sane, and asks for her?” “Twill see toit that he does not wake com- pletely for some hours,” replied the surgeon, ‘He must be kept quiet at all hazards. Noth- ing else will save him. You had better sit by the bed, and when he stirs open this bottle, and apply it to his nostrils for a moment. Let me goto Myra now.” He went out into the nextroom. Myra was coming slowly back to life, and the color was gradually creeping into her pale cheeks. Tho doctor stooped over the bed and looked at her. “Poor girl, poor girl,” he murmured, “I am sorry to see her in this condition. But she is better now, and will come to herself directly. Hush, she is waking.” At this moment the blue eyes flared wide open, and looked about with a wild stare which changed to unalloyed joy as she saw the kind face which bent above her. “Doctor, is it you? Ob,I am so glad, for now I know itis alla horribledream. Where is Ralph?” “In the next room. Keep quiet, for you are still very weak. Remember that he is sick from the injuries he received.” “I remember all now, the horrible surprise Drink this and you will feel
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. 15 ag 4 “when they stood by our bedside, the midnight march, the whipping post and that fiendish old Woman, and the terrible Indians, Do not de- ceive me; Ralph is dead and I must follow him. ” ‘No, no; upon my honor he is not dead, but is in the next room.” ‘Then I must see him.” “You can not do that. Do you love your husband?” ‘* Oh, doctor!” ~ ‘‘T need not ask you that, Then, when I tell you that heis badly hurt, and that a shock might kill him, I am certain that you will not say more about seeing him just now.” ‘No, doctor, but you will tell me if he calls for me, for then I must go to him.” “Certainly. He is sleeping now, and will awake refreshed. Areyou strong enough to tell us how it happened?” **Not now. My head is in a whirl, and 1 can see nothing but the terrible sights, and bear the fearful sounds I heard Jast night.” ‘ ‘Pd like to ask you one thing, Myra,” said Tim atarphy, coming forward. “Was it Mag the Witch who did this?” “Yes; oh, yes.” ‘“‘ And Neadawa was there?” “ Yes.” “Then I understand it. Now try to get a little rest, for you are worn out.” “Drink this,” said the doctor. She obeyed like a child, and soon fell off into sleep, while every one left the room except the doctor and .Tim Murphy. She slept on for an hour, while Tom sat at the open window, with his head upon his hand, trying to study out a plan to take signal vengeance upon the Mute Chief and his unworthy associate in thiscrime, The doctor did not care to talk, for fear he might arouse her, and Tim had no wish for conversation. After an hour she woke with a convulsive start, ~ and looked wildly in the doctor's face. ** How is Ralph?” “ He still vg ot the judge is with him.” “Then what have you done with my boy?” Tim Murphy started to his feet with a look of blank ay In the confusion the absence of pide Ralph had not been noticed. Where was e? CHAPTER VII. THE FRUITLESS CHASE. THE boy had been the pet and pride of the whole village. One and all they had vied with each other in praising his manliness, his beauty and truthfulness, and the news soon spread that = fh A a he had gone. Myra could only say that he had been taken with them into the woods, and that after the terrible flogging which her husband had received, when he had recovered from his fainting-fit the old woman had disappeared, tak- ing tho boy with her, and Neadawa had led them back toward the village accompanied by the other Indian, who said that Mag would follow them directly with little Ralph. But, when they reached the edge of the woods, neither the old woman nor the boy appeared, and the two In- | dians turned cate without a word. "Give me back the boy, you red demon,” cried Ralph, seizing Neadawa by the throat. ‘You had better.” Neadawa shook him off, and made a sign to him to stand back, but he was half frantic at the loss of his child, and rushed at him again! Then that terrible arm was raised, and Myra saw her husband fall, bathed in blood, and drop- ped beside him, overcome by the spectacle, In this condition they were found by their friends. Tim Murphy no sooner heard that his little playmate was gone than his face took on an al- most ferocious expression. He had loved the’ boy. A cbildjess man, with no home ties or hopes, it had been his delight to pour out the affections of his rough but true heart upon such an object, and there was no wish ‘which was in his power to grant which the hunter ever refus- ed the hoy. ‘God do so to me, and more also, if I do not make this a bitter thing to the whole Mohawk nation,” he cried, fiercely. ‘*Out of the way, thar! I’m goin’ far and wide to find the boy.” “What will you do, Tim?” demanded the vil- lagers, as they gathered round him outside. “You've got to be careful.” “Keerful? What call have I to be keerful ef that boy’s lost? Curse the Mohawks; curse Ma the Witch! Now look here; that old critter ba better look out how she gits in my way, for it won’t be healthy for her.” **Can’t we do any thing?” ‘Wal, you mou’t make up two companies of five men cach and go down the two sides of the creek. Now look here, you. That Injin balf- breed, Dockstader, had some hand in this, I don’t say how much, but in my opinion he sct these Injins to work. He'll have old Tim Murphy arter him fur that trick, 1 guess.” “We'll go down the stream, lim, Shall we hunt for signs?” “Yes; you hunt faithful, though I don’t reckon it will do much good, ’cause like ez not they got bosses waitin’ down-stream sum’ers, and are well up toward the Mobawk by this, They mou’t not be so fur, but I’m afraid.” Tim set off at once with the quick step and silent tread of a practiced trailer. He started with a heavy heart, for the canoe had given the party he followed an excellent chance to cover their trail, and he had but little hope now. He reached the creek at the point where they bad embarked, and in the soft sand upon the verne he sa.w among others the footmarks of the oy. ” “They took him, of course. The question is, whar. Id give a year out of my own life to know that.” Tim had a canoe concealed in the bushes a few hundred yards below the cabin, and this he dragged out and sent spinning away, under the strokes of his powerful arm. Down the beaut ful stream, flowing rapidly between its verdant banks, the bright colors 9f the flowers upon the banks and trees contrasting with rich green foliage, pausing now and then | at convenient landing-places to look for the signs upon which he depended for the rescue of the boy, but finding no such sign. His quick earth, and he bad taken such a mental photo- graph of the footsteps of those he pursued that eye would have detected any indentation in the ~ TE Bs. 4 ES es
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. he could have detected any one of them among a hundred, to such a pitch of perfection had he carried his trailing propensities. “Hi, there, Tim!” cried a voice from the bank. The busy paddle stopped, and he looked in the direction of the voice and saw the man Frazier, mounted upon a fine horse and leading another by the bridle, standing upon the northwestern bank of the stream, “Land!” cried Frazier. ‘‘ We've got the trail.” “‘Good fer you, old man!” cried Tim, as he turned the bow of the canoe toward the shore. “‘Tll do you a good turn for that.” He landed quickly, and Grew the canoe up close to the bank, screened by the overhanging foliage. ** Where’s the sign?” “‘North’ard, toward the Mohawk.” “Ola?” “Last night. I brought your hoss along be- cause J thought if we found sign you'd like to be in at the death.” “ Bet yer life; yes,” replied Tim, vaulting into the saddle, ‘‘ Lead the way, you.” Away they went at a breakneck pace and found four men halted upon the bank of the creek, half a mile above the cabin. “Them critters is smart,” said Tim. ‘Oh, yes. They calculated to fool us by going up- stream. Boys, I thank yon hearty, but this ain’t the time to waste words. They must is wonderful secure to make a plain trail like this.” ‘“T calculate that they mean to strike for the hills, unless mebbe they’ve got more men. You take the lead, Tim. We'll follow you, no matter where you lead us.” “Thank you ag’in, boys. Come on.” Bending slightly in his saddle, so as to keep his eyes upon the trail, Tim started his horse upon a slow trot, closely followed by his com- penious. The faces of the party were firm and old, for they had been well selected by Frazier, every one being a borderman and hunter of the boldest type. They were heavily armed, too, carrying rifles and hatchets, in the use of which each man was an adept. “This puzzles me, this does,” muttered Tim, “That thar Neadawa ain’t no fool, and, unless he’s got help nigh at hand, it don’t stand to reason he’d be fool enough to resk pursuit by leaving a trail like this, They've got a pony, too, and the old woman is riding him, carrying the boy.” iS “ How old is the critter, Tim? She looks to be a bundred.” ‘« Sho’s done deviltry enough to be a thousand, but she ain’t. As nigh as I kin git at it, sae’s about fifty year old; but she’s seen a deal of trouble, I should judge.” ‘*She don’t owe you any good-will, Tim,” said razier, “She don’t owe anybody in Cherry Valley none too much, but she hates the Canfpbells most of all. I don’t know her reasons for it, but she said she didn’t care how soon she died, once she got her revenge out of them.” ‘‘ Where did she come from?” rs knows, I reckon, but he’s the man to keep his mouth shut about it, you know. This is sart’in, she’s a p'izen old sarpent and don’t desarvo mercy at our hands,” ‘*T reckon she don’t count on it, Do you s’pose Dockstader sent this Neadawa down to help her do this?” “Of course. You see she married a half- breed Mohawk, and the tribe consider themselves in duty bound to help her. What's that on the ground ahead?” ‘A button,” said Frazier, ‘‘ V’ll git it.” He leaped out of the saddle and picked up a little shining object which lay upon the earth, glistening in the sun, and passed it to Tim. ‘« That’s off the boy’s jacket,” said Tim, urging his horse forward, ‘‘ Don’t tell me the little ’un ain’t bright beyond his years. I told the little chap if he was ever taken by the red-skins to keep dropping everything he had about him to guide us, and you see he’s working the buttons off his jacket as he rides. He’s got to be sharp to do it when that old critter holds him, too.” ‘There ain’t a smarter boy in Cherry Valley nowhere,” said Frazier. ‘‘ Thar’s another but- ton ahead. I should think that the Indians would see them.” “Don't you see that they are ahead? Tho pony tracks all lie atop of theirs.” ‘Jest so,” said Frazier. ‘‘ ve got something to learn of you yet, old Tim.” “Pye been a matter of thirty years learnin what I know, since I was a ten-year-old, ana t ought to have picked up something by this time. Judas Iscariot, which also betrayed Him, look at that!” The trail had suddenly branched aside, cross- ing a range of lofty hills north of the creek, in what is now the northeastern portion of the town of Cherry Valley, in Otsego County. Be- tween the high elevation now called Mount In- dependence and Hamilton Hill ran a narrow and rocky valley, and through this pass the trail led. But it was over a road covered with lime- stone shales in such a way that hardly any trail was perceptible. Tim knew that this road ccn- tinued for some miles, and that the party might have taken some side path through the hills to eae pursuit, and if they had dene'so he was at fault, Halting where he was, he sent two men for- ward at a gallop to the end of the shales to find tho trail, if it continued beyond, while he halted with the rest of the party. Although he chafed at the delay, he knew that nothing was to be gained by wearing out the horses of the whole party by riding hard over tho rocky path, and made the best of the necessity before him, and waited. Half an hour passed and the men came thundering back at the top of their speed to say that they had reached the debouchure of the pass into the next valley, and had found no signs of the enemy. ‘Separate and try the passes,” cried Tim. “You, Ned Thomas, go up South Pass, Fra- zier, try the steep path totheeast. I'llgoahead and look into Lost Hunter’s Gap; you others ‘stay here.” Tim touched his horse with the spur and bounded forward at a gallop, and soon reached “J don't know that either, Judge Campbell i the place where a narrow pass turned to the 4
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain ‘Witch. i? ‘east. On each side rose a rocky wall of lime- ‘stone, but he knew that a few hundred yards ahead the ground was soft and it would not take long for him to decide whether this was the route they had taken or not, As he was riding on at a rapid gallop be heard his name called in a shrill voice, and, with the instinct of the hun- a brought his rifle forward, cocking it has- i x No need of that, Tim Murphy,” cried the same yoice. ‘' You won’t dare to use your rifle.” The voice seemed to fall from the sky, and looking upward, he saw Mag the Witch standing upon a rocky ledge nearly a hundred feet above him, clasping Ralph Campbell in her arms and holding him as a shield bet-veen herself and the deadly weapon of the hunter. pa knew y2u would follow, Tim Murphy,” she shrieoked, ‘‘Ha, ha, ha! To think that you, of all men, should think to outwit Mag the Witch.” “T did it once, you old heathen,” cried Tim. ‘Not long ago, either.” “Lucky for you that you did, you poor-spirit- ed fool. Why do you follow me?” “T want that boy,” replied Tim, ‘‘ Come, I ain’t alone. You give him up, or it will be the worse for you.” “Pm notafraid of you,” replied Mag. ‘‘ Come, they say you are a good shot. Why don’t you shoot me?” “TY will, if you don’t bring the boy to me at once,” “Help, help, Tim,” cried little Ralph, ‘I want to go back to my mother, and she holds “Why don’t you fire, I say? I’m not going to give him upto you; be sure of that. He may as well die in this way as any other, and the ball must pass through his body to get to mine. Didn’t I tell you that I'd have revenge? Where is Ralph Campbell’s pride now? It is as low in the dust as my son’s was, when you beat him like a dog. Why don’t you fire—why don’t you fire? Coward, you dare not!” “JY don’t want to kill tbe boy,” replied Tim, emitting a sharp whistle to call up bis men, “But lm coming up.” “Yes, do; come up and see me, But remem- ber this, the moment you set foot upon this ledge I will throw the boy down upon the lime- stone at the foot of the bluff, You know that I will keep my word, so come if you dare.” Still holding the struggling boy in her arms, she advanced boldly to the very brink of the precipice and stood there defying him. He saw now that she had him in her power, and know- ing her vindictive nature he understood that no hing could save the lad from death if he climbed the bluff, and ho fell back with a groan, “You see it now, do you? she shouted. “Yah! what a fool you are to set your wits against a woman spurred on by. the deadly hate which thrills my breast. Go back to Judge Campbell and say to him that a voice snenks from out an open grave, and says to him, this is the Gipsy’s revenge for the wrong done years ago. Will you do this?” ony no message from you to the judge.” ‘*‘ Promise or the boy is dead,” she cried, rais- ing the light from above her head, ‘Speak quickly, for I do not propose to waste time with you, ‘Yes, yes, I promise! Hold your hand, and do not take revenge on a boy like that, He ain’t to blame, poor little fellow.” “Not he, but bis blood is guilty of this wrong,” she answered. ‘You will give my message to the judge?” . “a Yes.” “ And say to him that Margaret, after loug years, has taken vengeance on his race. Ido not know that I should have done this but for the last outrage, and that decided me.” ‘“What money will pay you to give the boy up to me?” ‘What money? Fool, if every ounce of your body and the bodies of the Camphell race com- bined was worth its weight in diamonds, and you were to lay it at my feet as the ransom of this boy, I would laugh at it, and at you, Money! offer me that insult again and you doom him to death.” “Think of his mother, then. You say you love that rough son of. yours, and I spose you do. Think what her agony must be when she knows that Ralph is lost completely.” ‘Ts her agony less than mine? Good-by, and look your last’ upon the boy, for you shall never see his face again.” ““Tim, Tim!” cried little Ralph. ‘She will carry me away. Oh, don’t let her carry me away, but take me home to my mother!” The rattle of hoofs announced the coming of the rest of the party, and Mag, with a lurid smile, waited for their approach, and all utter- ed cries of delight as they saw her, and five rifles were lifted, but at a fierce order from Tim they lowered them again. “Won't any thing move you, Mag?” “Nothing you have power to say.” “Remember that Tom Dockstader ain’t dead yet, and that I’m a bad inimy to make; I allus was and will be.” “Tom can take care of himself, now that he has taken to the woods. He hides himself even oe old mother who has done so much for im, “Tl mark a bullet for him and if he ever comes in range he’ll go down. I promise you that, you old heathen. Come, boys; it’s all over, and we can’s do anything for the boy. Good-by, Ralph, and remember that Dll never give up tbe chase until {find you, and bring you back to your mother.” The boy stretched out bis hands imploringly and still cried out for aid, and the pursuing party felt a thrill pass through their ranks as they realized how utterly helpless they were in the hands of the vile woman, who laughed like a fiend as she regarded them, and turning, dis- appeared from their sight, still carrying the child in her arms, Slowly and sadly they went down the pass together and back over the road they had traversed so quickly during the last ten hours. Tim knew that he carried with bim the knowledge which would forever blast the happiness of the family whose welfare was his constant care, and yet he must tell it, Down beside the shining stréam, over the ruins of
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eee is Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch, $$$ rn rrr Mag’s cabin, and into the village they went, and the settlers read in their dejected faces the failure of the expedition. Tim rode straight to Judge Campbell’s house and asked to see him, and was shown into a small room in which the judge did his writing, and the old man rose hur- riedly to greet him. ‘Murphy! back again? Do not keep mein suspense but tell me at once the fate of little Ralph. Is he dead?” ‘““No,”. said Tim. ‘He ain’t dead, and yet I’m not sure it wouldn’t be better for the poor little chap if he was. Mag Dockstader has got him, and that’s a fact.” Tim related the events of the pursuit, and low he had brought Mag to bay, with the dan- er of the boy, and Campbell saw that he had cote all for the best. “And this terrible woman has him still. | What can be her motive in this?” “Sho gave me a message to you, sir. I didn’t like to take it, but she swore to throw Ralph down the rocks if I didn’t. Her words were, ‘Tell him that a yoice speaks from an open grave, and says to him, ‘ this is the Gypsy’s re- venge for the wrong done her years ago.””’ “ Ta!’* * Stie said more: *Margaret—she speaks as if you would know the name—after long years has taken vengeance on her race.” * Murgaret; Gipsy?” a Yes.” The judze uttered a gasping sob, and his head fell forward on the table and he seemed to strug- gle with intense feeling for some moments, * Bat it cannot be; it is impossible that this hag can be the same, [ forget myself, Tim; you know nothing of this terrible woman. [If it is indeed the one of whom I speak, then God for- give her for her many crimes, But I thought her dead, years and years ago. Now I will go to Ruph’s house, but I fear the effect of this tals on him.” They told the story first to Myra, and as she sunk fainting ou the bed they became aware that Ralph, with a strange leer upon his face, was looking in at the open door. The look changed to one of agony, and he put his hand to his wounded head, and uttering a loud cry of despair, tore the bandages from the wound and sunk tothe floor. Three days ho hovered between life and death, but the doctor shook his head when he was spoken of. Oo the fourth day he drew Myra aside, for she had risen above her own great grief to attend to her husband, and said: ‘Prepare yourself forthe worst, Myra. Your husband is insane!” CHAPTER VIIl AFTER MANY YEARS, TmN years passed away and brought its changes to the beautiful settlement ut Cherry Valley. Little by little it had increased, slowly, of course, because the people dreaded to incur the dangers of a frontier life in these troublous times. The war of the Revolu'ion had been going en for over two years with varying sucress. Cherry Valley was threatened by an enemy whom all knew and feared, the redoubtable Joseph Brant, who was now repaying the English for the |! services they had done nim, by fighting their battles. é Judge Campbell had prepared for danger like aman. His house was a fortress, the windows heavily shuttered and barred, with double doors and loopholes for musketry. Every available man upon the ‘ Patent” was heavily armed, and drilled every Gay upon the open ground in front of the great house. Boys not sixteen years of age staggered under the weight of great muskets which their young arms could hardly raise to a level, such was the war-spirit which actuated the people at this time. Gray- haired men in spectacles practiced with their trusty rifles, trying to regain the prowes3 of old days, and women vied with each other in mak- ing cartridges for their husbands, fathers and brothers’ use. These were the days when men lay down to rest with loaded guns beside them, scarcely knowing whether they should see the dawning of another morning. A small detachment of troops from Palatine, then a thriving village on the Mohawk, occu- pied the village. They could not spare many troops from the army of liberty to fight the bat- tles of the border, but rather depended upon the preariec) arms of the settlers themselves to defend their lives and families, Tim Murphy was still in Cherry Valley upon a furlough, though he had long ago joined him- self to that crack corps, Morgan’s riflemen, and was one of the best shots in that famous com- mand. But in a short season of repose, for meritorious conduct in the field, he had obtained a month’s leave of absence, and with his rifle upon his shoulder, had ridden down to visit his old friends. There was not a man or woman who had seen him before who was not glad to welcome the rifleman back. He had ridden into the village from Palatine at the end of an au- tumn day, and was instantly surrounded by the villagers, eager for news from the North, “What news, Tim?” cried Frazier, one of the first to welcome him, ‘* Glad to see you back, old man.” ‘*Lain’t so sorry to git back, neither, Ned,” replied the rifleman, Pissping, the friendly ash aa oa toward him, ‘* How’s every- body?’ It took some time to tell him all the news, the changes which had occurred, the marriages, births and deaths among his old companions. “ And Ralph Campbell; what about him?” demanded Tim, eagerly. “Poor Ralph!” replied Frazier. ‘‘ He’s just the same now; now a very child, and again frantic when his wrongs come home to him. He won’t stay in the village much, and he’s got a haunt away to the north, among the hills, where he will hide himself, and when he does that, woe to the Indian who crosses his path.” ‘* Does ho know his friends?” “Oh, yes. He isn’t set against any white man, except Dockstader, and he’s got his name printed on the wall of bis cabin, and I’ve seen him sit looking at it for an hour ata time. It’s an ape thing to see a man like him out of his mind. ‘Never heard of the boy, I s’pose?” ‘Never; did you?’ replied Frazier. “Not once. Pye heard of Neadawa, but j 4 pf
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ooo Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. 19 never sighted him. He fights under Brant now, and they say makes bloody work. By the way, what fool sent that message to Brant, call- ing him a goose?” “ Captain McKean; that was rather a cuaning letter he wrote.” “What did he say?” “He wrote that if Brant would come to Cherry Valley they would change him froma Brant toa Goose. They set it up on the trail, directed to the sachem, and they say he got it.” “T spose Captain McKean wants Cherry Val- ley burned to the ground, don’t he? Brant is erazy mad about that letter, and he wrote to a Yory named Cass that he would make the peo- ple of Cherry Valley sorry for having called him a goose, and if you don’t look out he'll do it, too. It’s a foolish thing to insult any man wan- tonly, much more sech a man as Joseph Brant. He is a good warrior, and holds a spite eternal- ly. Where is Myra Campbell?” ‘ She lives at the big house, and is the shadow of the woman she was. Mag, the Witch, toeka late revenge on her.” “Yes, curse her. I'd give a good deal: to know where she is, but the old she-devil knows how to hide right well. 1 wonder if I could see Myra Campbell now.” ‘There she sits under the big tree. she’ll be glad to see you.” Tim shook off his friends and rode hastily across the lawn in front of Campbell’s house. A woman seated under a tree started up as he ap- proached, and ran toward him with outstretched hands, and the brave rifleman’s heart gave a great throb as he recognized in ber, faded and wan, the wreck of the beautiful woman he had known so long before. “Oh, Tim!” she cried, ‘‘ good and faithful man, you cannot tell how glad Iam to see you again. I know “‘{ don’t reckon it’s all on one side, Myra,” re- plied Murphy, turning his head away. ‘1m glad to see you, too, but I don’t like to see you looking so pale.” ‘“We cannot all lead happy lives, Tim. Poor Ralph—” Her voice broke, and she placed her hand upon her heart as if to thrill its throbbings, and Tim understood what she would have said, “There, there, Myra. Don't; [ can’t bear to see you, Don’t I know what you suffer every day you jive? You know I’m a rough, hard man, but I loved Campbell. He Yarnt wood- craft from me, and a better or a quicker scholar Inever see. We tramped the woods together, and he talked book-larnin’ to me and I taught him wood-ranging, so that we was even thar. We slept in the same blanket and laid down at night beside the same clear stream, and it ain’t too much for me to say that if my life would give bim back to you as he was afore— onde T went away, I wouldn’t hesitate to lay it own. "F believe you, dear Tim, You did all you _ could for your friends, and nearly lost your own life by the same cruel hands which robbed me of my darling boy and of my husband, for we are separated as much asif oceans rolled be- tween us. You have not seen that cruel woman or her son since you went away?” 4 “No; and I've tried hard.” “They seem to have vanished from off the face of the earth. My uncle has many friends, even among the Indians, and they assure him that the boy was not brought ito the Indian villages, and that Mag did not come there.” “That's curi’s. The old woman is mighty cute, and she knew that John Butler would give the boy back if she brought him tothe Mohawks, She’s in hiding somewhere, and so’s her son. I don’t know sart’in whether your boy is alive, but if he is, wharever Mag, the Witch, is, she’s got him. Don’t quite despair, and we may save him yit.” “Hush; here is Ralph. Do not say a word about the boy or you will drive him out into the woods again, and he has not been here for three weeks.” A tall man, dressed in a ragged suit of buck- skins, with a rifle thrown into the hollow of his arm, leaped the low wall which bounded the estate, and came toward them with a hurried step. Tim had expected to see a change in him, but nothing like this, His hair was turning gray, and hung in a matted and disheveled mass upon his shoulders, His beard was long and neglected, and the little of his face not covered by his tangled growth was pale and wan, and the splendid eyes which had made his face so noble in other days, blazed with insanity. Ha!” he cried, ‘“‘ who is this that comes from the outer world? Let me see your face.” He caught Tim by the shoulder with a grip of iron and whirled him about, looking fiercely in bis face, Something of old remembranco seemed to shoot across his troubled brain as he looked at the once familiar features, and he dropped his hand. “T used to know you up there, didn’t I?” he said. “I knew a great many in the outside world and once in a while I meet them.” “Yes, you knew me. I hope I was a true friend to you then.” “You've gota rifle,” said Ralph, in the same tone, “Is ita good on.? Can you shoot as true as a die with it?” +“ Yes,” “Then look here. There’s some one in_the outside world I want sent down to me, If I could go up there myself I’d kill him, but I can’t. And there’s a she-devil up there too, but you can’t kill her, or I’d ask you to do that for me, See: I’ve got their names here.” He drew a piece of paper from the bosom of his bunting-shirt, and held it up before the eyes of the rifleman, who read these names, inclosed in brackets, thus: Neadawa, the Mute Chief. Tom Dockstader. To die. Mag the Witch; a devil. “Tyo you see the names?” “ Yes.” ‘‘-You knew them too, when you were in the outer world. Do you think that you can find them?” “Yes: at least I'll try.” “Do it, and Pl love you. Notas TI love her,’ pointing to Myra, who stood with bowed head, her face. covered by her hands and the tears trickling down through her fingers, ‘See, she “18 ay
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. weeps. Do you know who made her face so pale, so very, very sad? It was these three whose names youread. Do you think it would be wrong, then, to kill those who can make an angel weep?” “ Not wrong; it isa duty, and we ought not to neglect it,” replied Tim, sternly. “T don’t neglect it, you may be sure. I’m waiting, I’m watching, and something whispers to me that I shall not wait long. Do you know that when I lie down to rest, spirits coms and talk to me? They tell me strange things, but I believe them, because the spirits never lie, They say to me that this white face will have red cheeks again, and that one who is dead shall live. These are good spirits who speak.” He caught Myra suddenly in his arms and drew her head down upon his bosom, ‘ This one will be happy again, then, Shall you not be glad when she is page My head is light, and spins about when I think of those three names, but when I lay my head upon my bosom I forget them,” ‘Oh, Ralph,” she murmured, ‘if you could forget them forever.” “They must be dead first. When they are dead, I will forget, but until then, their faces will come to me in dreams; and my back gets sore, Ha! what made it sore?” He pushed her from him suddenly, and the light which had come into his face for a mo- ment faded out, his eyes began to blaze, and catching up his rifle he hugged 1t to his breast, “T can shoot straight and true and must go and find them. Will you come to me soon, you from the outer world? She knows where I stay and will tell you.” ‘‘T will come to-morrow.” ‘* What does to-morrow mean; when they are dead?” i) i will come soon, sand you must wait for me, ‘* When you come to the place where I am, ae two stones together three times, like this. He caught up two stones from the earth, and beat them together with cll his force, with a cunning look in his face. ‘When I hear that, I will come, and you shall go with me to find the wicked ones. Sho is not wicked, but she is very sad. I must go away, for a spirit whispers to me that it is safer to be among the rocks than here.” “Do not go, Ralph, stay with me,” Myra said. “No, no, no, no! Not here. I am called, and when the whisper comes from the rocks and trees, I can not stay. Lat me go quickly,” He stooped and pressed his lips to hers in a frenzied way, and springing over the wall, bur- ried toward the woods, which soon hid him from their sight. Tim Murphy set his teeth hard, and turned to Myra, who was lean- ing against a tree, almost unable to move. ‘Don’t grieve too much, Myra,” said the rifle- man. ‘‘ Who knows what fate may hev in store for you. Let’s believe as he does, that the spirits whisper the truth to him, and that you'll be happy yit. I’m sure stranger things happen than that, and if you could find your boy, who knows but the sight of him would bring his memory back to him, And that boy I'll find, if he’s above ground.” ‘Do you think it possible that my little Ralph still lives? Would he not come back fv me?” ‘* He was five years old when he was taken away. New scenes and associates make great changes, I heard tell, and it ain’t likely that Mag would take any pains to bring you back to his mind. It’s more likely she'll teach him tc forgit you.” ‘What if she teaches him to hateme? Surely she would not be so wicked.” ‘*She’s ekal to anything, that old cat is,” re- Paes Tim. ‘*You_mustn’t talk about it now, ut tell me where Ralph stays when be takes to the woods.” “He stays in the deep ravine, near Tecaha- wara Falls; you know tke place.” “Bet youl do, I'll go and see him to-morrow morning and try what [ can do with him, Per- haps he mou’t remember after being with me awhile, and going to the same places we used to vist, want to see Colone] Campbell now, for [ve got a dispatch from Palatine, and Lieutenant Thornton is coming down here to-morrow to see what troops we need, because I warn you that Cherry Valley ain’t safe.” “Do you think the Indians will attack us?” “They will if they git a chance, and Brant is mad at us on account of McKean’s letter; the most unreasonable piece of foolishness I ever beard tell on,” ; “Tt was foolish, since if aroused the wrath of the great chief against us. Come into the house and I will find my uncle, who will be glad to see you.” “ The colonel and Tim remained closeted for some hours, and the rifleman passed the night at the great house. In the morning, before the dew was off the grass, he took his rifle and started out to find Ralph. He stopped at the entrance of a ravine and looked to the priming of his heavy rifle, and saw that the flint was tight in its setting, for nothing was more prob- able than his meeting a panther in this dismal ravine. When ho finished his examination he heard a footstep passing down the ravine, the quick tread of aman in haste, and with a hun- ter’s instinct, buried himself in the bushes to wait until be came on, not caring to trust bim- self in that place with a perfect stranger. The footsteps stopped suddenly, as if the comer had heard some noise and halted, and Tim held his breath and waited, as the steps came on more slowly. ‘‘ Whistler!” cried a hoarse voice, ‘‘ where are you?” “Me come,” answered an unmistakable In- dian voice. ‘* You wait,” “You hang back too much, you born thief, I hope you ain’t skeered!” roared the first voice. “Cherry Valley people no good.” replied the same voice. ‘‘ They take Whistler’s scalp.” “Oh, come on, you born idiot. I ain’t got tl more call to go to Cherry Valley than you ave, Tho footsteps sounded nearer, the bushes parted, and two men came out into the pass, at the sight of whom Tim could hardly restrain a ery of joy, for he saw before him Tom Dock+ stader and Whistling Wind,
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. 21 CHAPTER IX. = A SIRANGE COMBAT. , THE sight of that dark faco, so full of evil pas- Sions, aroused all that was vindictive in the heart of the waiting rifleman. Although he was not certain that Dockstader had any share in the abduction of Ralph Campbell and his subse- ee punishment, he still believed that it was one by his orders, and now seeing him in the company of one of the * apeoo ne actors in that tragedy, he could hardly restrain his passion, and twice he raised his rifle to aim at the heart of the Tory, and so many times lowered it. Although he knew that thisman was of a bloody nature, and would not hesitate to destroy him under the circumstances, Tim Murphy could not bring bimself to the enormity of shooting a white man from the shelter of a bush. You hang back hke a skeered baby, Whist- ler,” said Dockstader, with an oath. ‘Why don’t you come along, if you are goin’ to?” _‘‘ Look,” said Whistler, stopping, ‘* white man sign; fresh.” . € had chanced upon the footprints of Tim, and knelt beside them with a startled face. I believe you are right,” growled Dock- stader, “What of that? <Ain’é there plenty of hunters in the bills?” “No hunt now; *fraid of Mohawk. Thayen- danega great warrior.” “Tush! They ain’t goin’ to starve because they think Brant is in the woods. You rediculous critter, what are you thinking about? I— Blood and thunder, what is that?” "inn had suddenly raised his head and sprung out with leveled rifle, and stood before them with blazing eyes. * Don’t tech a weapon, either of you, or you go down, mind. I’ve got two shots here, and I never miss my man,” “Hold on, Tim Murphy,” said Dockstader, in a trembling voice. ‘' You’re the last man I ex- pected to meet, that I tell you. I thought you was with Morgan.” . “Kept posted ‘bout me, did you?” said Tim. Now see yer; I’ve follered you for ten years and never met you till now. I don’t want to fool with you, neither. Whar’s little Ralph Campbell?” “What do I know about him? replied the outlaw. ‘TL ain’t seen him since I left Cherry Valley.” ie You lie!” It's a noble thing to give a man the lie when you've got a shooter p’inted at his heart, ain’t it, now? Look here, you say you've looked fur me a long time. Waal, I’ve looked fur you, too, and never met you, and now I ain’t goin to back down.” “That means fight?” said Tim. “Juss so,” replied Dockstader, ‘ You realize my meaning exactly.” a When ” “ Right now.” ‘“ Weepens?” a Rifles.” “Good enuff in its way, but’ that ain’t goin’ to bring back Ralph Campbell’s boy, and I’m ey i goa him, We Tone sco, — Mike \ » stand up when J lo ‘ou e double sights,” ae See | _ “I didn’t know you was a coward afore, Tim aie itis ‘*] didn't know it either, and I don’t know it now. I’ve got you both, hard and fast, and I say you’ve got to tell me whar the boy is.” * Don’t I tell you I don’t know?” “ Don’t I tell you that’s a lie?” ‘‘Now, curse your impudent tongue, if I ee out of this I'll make you sweat blood, I will. No matter whar the boy is: you don’t know and ou won’t know, so if you mean to murder me, laze away.” **- You won’t tell?” “Nary time.” “Then you'll never git back to that hansum mother of yours, See here; you take and tie that Injin, band and foot, ’cause 1f we've got to figbt I won’t bey him on my back.” ‘* S’pose he won’t let me tie him?” i “'T reckon be will, cause ef he don’t he’s a dead nigger. He'll let you tie him fast enough.” “ Ain’t got anything to tle him with?” “ You got a belt, ain’t you? Wal, tie his feet with that and then Ill tell you what to do next,” With a muttered curse, the outlaw tore off his belt and proceeded to tie his companion, but so loosely that he could have slipped his feet out of the strap readily enough. ; “That won't do,” said Tim. ‘‘ You strap him tighter, or it will be wuss fer you. Tie him as if it was me.” The other complied, and while he was doing this Tim slipped off his own belt and threw it down. “There; take that gun of his and pass it be- hind his back, Put his hands over it and draw them forward. Now take my belt and strap his hands in front.” “You seem to be afraid of a little chap like Whistler.” ‘Oh, shet up, do. I don’t want any back talk out of you, rom Dockstader. Only do as I tell you and it’ll satisfy me.” a Deckstader complied, very unwillingly in- deed, and the Indian was rendered helpless. “ Lay him on his back now, you critter. You needn’t be very easy with him if you don’t keer about it. The little cuss ought to be hung, and I ain’t quite sart’n I won’t hang him when I git. done with him.” The Indian was thrown upon his back and la, there unable to rise, glaring vindictively at bis captor. “ That's all right. Now you kin pick up your rifle. She’s loaded, I s’pose?” a“ Yes,” “Then you jest walk to that point of rock and git ready. We won't fire until 1] am ready, you understand.” “Tt isn’t fair; you bave the best chance.” “‘T s'pose so, but it don’t matter. I ain’t goin’ to let you shoot me in the back. Or, hold on; when you git to that pi’nt you lay your rifle down and come back here, I'll give you a fair show anyhow.” The outlaw stepped to the spot indicated and laid his rifle down and cume back at once. “Throw down your knife and hatched,” said Tim. f Dockstader obeyed,
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. ** Now come with me.” They walked together to a place about the same distance from the central point with the other rifle, and here Tim laid his weapon down, and signaled to Dockstader to come back to the center of the glade. “Now, I’m goin’ to count three,” he said. “ At the word, you start fur your rifle and Pll start fur mine. I’m the best runner and so I’ve laid my rifle fifty feet further from the center than yourn. The minnit you git your rifle you kin fire if you like, and I guess that you will. Ona, two, three!” At the last syllable the two men shot away in opposite directions. It was purely a race for life, and the man that reached his weapon first had the best chance, since both were practiced marksmen. There was no better runner in the whole Cherry Valley section than the rifleman. Dockstader knew that he was doomed unless some accident happened to him, or he could study out some plan of escape. Yot he never slackened his speed, and when Tim snatched up his rifle and whirled, the Tory was upon the bank of the rapid creek where he had laid the rifle, but he did not stoop for it, but with a cry of fury plunged into the bed of the stream, be- hind the bank of which he concealed himself from view. His rifle still lay upon the bank, within arm’s lenzth of him, but he dared not raise his head to get it. Kneeling upon the earth a hundred and fifty yards away, with his rifla laid across his knes Tim waited for him to make some effort to get at his gun. Hav- ing a great respect for the aim of the rifleman, Doekstader was very careful about showing any portion of his anatomy above the bank, but his situation was irksome, and he was actuated by a deadly hatred of the ensmy. Soon a coarse, brown hand stole slowly over the bank and moved with catlike dexterity toward the rifle which lay upon the sod. Marphy brought his rifle to his shouldar, every muscle in his frame seeming all at once to turn to iron, and the wea- pon cracked. A yell of agony sounded through the ravine and the haud was quickly withdrawn, and Tim, holding his second barrel ready for a shot, ran rapidly down the pass toward tho place where his enemy was hidden. When he reached the spot he found the sod near the rifle- stock stained with blood, and tho water discol- ored at the bottom, but the enemy was gone. Furious at his lo3s, Tim leapsd down the bank and looked abont in the muddy water for traces by which he could tell whethar he had gone up ot down stream, but he could find no sign, Grinding his teeth in rage, Tim picked up the rifle and turned back to tha place where he had left the Indian, when a cry of fear from his lips mae him hasten his steps, and hs saw Ralph Campbell kneeling beside the savage, with a bared knife clasped in his hand, evidently medi- tatine where tostrike, : “Hold on, Ralph; don’t kill him,” cried Mur- hy. ‘‘Ho ain’t the one you want, and you avent’t got his name on your piper.” ** Rod, red, like blood,” replied Ralph, looking up. ‘‘Neadawa’s face was like his, and the spirit whispers that he was there when the little boy was lost.” “Do you see this rifle?” said Tim, “Te I told you the name of the man who owned it, you would not wait long.” “ His name? “Tom Dockstader.” The maniac bounded to his feet with a wild ery, brandishing his knife above his head. *“Come, come, come!” he screamed. ‘Show me the way and I will follow him like a hound upon the scent, for he is marked, ‘to die.’” “Come this way,” said the rifleman, who wished to save Whistling Wind for the present. ‘*T will show you his blood. Take your rifle, for you may need it.” They reached the bank where the blood of Dockstader yet showed plainly, and Ralph stooped and looked at it, with an expression more like sanity than anything he had seen in it before, and then leaped down the bank. “Come, come,” he whispered. ‘* I know where to look for him. Ha, ha, who can hide from Mad Ralph in the Tecahawara glen? Vil show ‘ou the way.” ““ Wait until I lay the Indian in the bushes where he will be out of sight,” said Tim. “ Wo'll want him when we come back.” Tim ran back and laid the Indian by the side of the path, out of signt of any one why might come down the pass by accident, and then hur- ried down to the creek again, where Ralph wel- comed him by an impatient gesture. **T must find him,” he said; ‘‘ because I must study his heart and see if it is of stone. It must be stone or steel, it is so hard, Come, come, come, and let me show you the secret places where he will try to hide.” He turned down-stream, closely followed by his companion, who began to realize that he was in fearful company, and to wonder what would be the fate of the unfortunate they pursued if ha should be so unlucky as to fall into the hands of the man he had so wronged. ** Look- here, look, look, look!” be whispered, pointing to a stone beside the stream, “T told you I could track him. Here is blood, his blood. eaven! can this man bleed?” “What will you do with him if you find him, Ralph? Not kill bim, I hope?” “ What would you do with him, if nof that? I want tosee him lio bowling in the lowest pit, enduring all the tortures of the accursed, Ha, ha! He will wish then that he had not done it.” ‘* But he is not the one who stole your boy.” “Don’t speak of him, I tell you. I remember that he was small, and his cheeks were red, and he loved me. Sometimes when I lie asleep, I seem to hear his voice speaking to me; his voice, the sweetest voice in all the world. Up here; he went this way.” They began toclimb the ragged rocks, upon which the print of blood, not yet dried up, was plainly to be seen. The rifleman saw that they were not far from the object of their pursuit, and began to think what artifice he could make use of, tosave the unfortunate man alive and make him tell whether the boy was alive or dead, They reached the smmmit of the rock a began the descent, and Ralph bent to isten. ‘¢ fe is here, close at hand. I seem to feel him near me,” he hissed. d ‘ Close beside the path there was a thicketof |
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. mountain bushes densely packed together, and they could trace the blood upon the green leaves. Ralph thrust aside the leaves and looked in, and as he did so a desperate man ih up, with the blood streaming from his Shattered left band, and sprung at the nearest enemy, which happened to be Ralph. But, as he saw his face, he staggered back with a cry of alarm, and the long claw-like fingers of the maniac were fastened upon his throat. “Let up, let up! I thought you were dead. Hold his hand, Tim Murphy, unless you mean to let him murder me!” __ ‘He ought to murder you, if so be you'd call it murder. I wouldn’t forone. The sooner he finishes you off the better.” “Help, help! I know more than you think, Pil tell you whero to find the boy, give up the old woman, do anything, if you will only save me from him. I’ve only got one hand or I wouldn’t ask help, curse you,” “Hands off, Ralpb. Didn’t you hear him say he knew whar to find the boy?” __ 'The boy! Does he know? Then let me dig it out of his stony breast, for there the know- ledge lies,” “Don’t hurt him now, because thar’s law enough in Cherry Valley to do him justice. Loose your hold, Ralph, and let me talk to him. Stand up, you nat’ral thief, and answer my questions. In the first place, you say that the boy lives?” . Yes,” a And you'll find him?” I promise, only keep that madman’s hands off’n me. I ain’t easily skeered, but I’m afraid of him. You let me lead and I'll take you to the boy in half an hour.” : _, ll let you lead, but I'll be close tu you, and if you offer any treachery, look out fur me.” “Pil not do that. You've got a pistol and know what to do if I play false; this way.” They turned down the path again, the outlaw first and the rifleman following close at his heels with a pistol in each hand, while Ralph followed with cautious steps. They descended the hill and struck the level country beyond, when Dockstader gave a signal-cry and bounded into the bushes so suddenly that ‘Tim had no time to use his pistol, while, at the same moment, a fierce band of savages rushed out upon them, and in spite of their struggles, bore them to the earth, CHAPTER X, MAG COMES AGAIN. THEY wero dragged into the open space amon the tangled bushes, and here, to thal utter sare prise, they saw a strange body of men assembled, White men, upon whose faces bloodthirsty cruelty and love of crime was written in plain characters. Foremost among them he saw Captain Walter Butler, & man whose name is rendered infamous in connection with the fear- massacre of Cherry Valley. Dockstader, with his bleeding hand held up to awake the _ indignation of his companions, and Joseph Brant, who, Indian though he was, was not so cruel an enemy as either of the white leaders, {t is known what reason Dockstader had to hate the inhabitants of Cherry Valley, and Butiler’s hate is a matter of bistory. Into his power the treacherous Dockstader had led his captors. “This is the man you want, Butler,” said he. ‘““Drat his head, he shot Frazer at Bemis Heights.” “Ha! say you so? Is this the famous Tim Murphy?” “ Bet your life it is,” replied Murphy, coolly. “ You don’t think [ll deny my name, do you?” ‘‘Your name is enough to hang you, my worthy friend,” said Butler. ‘*‘ You had better forswear it.” “Why speak in that way to a brave man?” said Brant, advancing. ‘‘lam glad to take a good warrior by the hand, and welcome him, and a hair of his head shall not be touched.” ‘Who says that?” roared Dockstader. ‘ Do you see this hand of mine, Captain Brant? That’s the man who shot me.” “T care not for that. He is a prisoner, and he shall be treated as a prisoner.” “No; he shall hang for the murder of General Frazer,” said Walter Butler, “Tf you hang every one who has killed men in battle, what man in all this company does not deserve death? Frazer was a good man and a gallant soldier, the best in that great army which surrendered to the Yankee, Gates, at Saratoga. But he died on the battle-field, as you and I may do some day, and we have paid the last tribute to kis memory. Do not talk of hanging this brave man because he killed the general.” “] won't talk about if now. Put him under guard, Dockstader, and give a good account of him.’ “Tl do that,” replied Dockstader, with a sinister look. ‘! He won’t trouble us long,” “That is right,” said Brant, ‘‘ Let him have a good guard, two Indians and two white men. Remember that ho is not your prisoner, but was taken by my men, and they will claim him. Who is the other?” ‘* Td like to say a word about that,” said Tim. “You see that Dockstader, don’t you? Wal, ten years ago be stole two hosses, one of them mine and the other belonging to this young man. We caught him and gave him forty lashes.” “Shut your mouth,” sbrieked Dockstader, ‘unless you wish me to fasten it forever.” “Will you keep him off me while I speak, Captain Brant?” said Tim. ‘I know you are the best man in all this party, whatever men say ag’in’ you.” “The man shall speak,” said Brant. ‘ Go on.” ; ‘“T say we gave him forty lashes, and set him in the stocks, and after that banished him out of Cherry Valley. He sent back two Mohawks, the man called the Mute Chief, and an- other name Whistling Wind. They both came in the night and took out Ralph Campbell, his wife and their little boy, and beat Ralph till he fainted, and stole the boy. When they went away, Neadawa struck Ralph, then, with a hatchet. and he has never been in his right mind sence. Now Lask if the Mohawks and Senecas make war on crazy men?”
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. “ Listen,” said Brant, in his mellow voice, “No Indian will harm a man upon whom the finger of the Great Spirit is laid. Is this the man they call mad Ralph Campbell?” “Ves,” “Then he shall not be harmed,” said Brant, turning and speaking a few words to the In- dians in their own tonguo, in answer to which a murmur rose among them. “T have spoken,” said the chief. ‘'The Senecas say that the weak brain has been punishment enough, and he shall not bo harmed, though they will keep him, lest he should carry the news to Cherry Valley.” “Captain Brant, it seems to me you takoa reat deal into your hands,” said Butler. ‘t You on’t leave us a prisoner, and this Campbell is a pine and vindictive enemy of my friend ockstader.” Your friend 2” **You heard Murphy say that when there was no war this man stole horses, I choose my friends better than that.” “You are trying to quarrel with mo, Brant, and you may succeed if hes keep on. I say you have no right to stand in the way of my ro- venge or of Dockstader’s,” “Dockstader has had revenge enough. [is enemy is mad, his child is stolen away, and yet you seek revenge.” “You may have your way for the present, Captain Brant. Choose your two guards and let Dockstader choose the others, and see that they take care of these men. If they escape, be it on the heads of the guards,” Brant picked out two men from his personal adherents, men upon whom he could rely, and Dockstader called two villainous-looking ‘Tories to complete the guard, and the two men were led away and bound to trees in a neighboring thicket. “See here,” said Tim, speaking to one of the men, ‘I wish you’d tell Captain Brant I'd like to see him without Butler or Dockstader,” “Go to the devil,” replied the Tory he ad- dressed. ‘‘ ’m wot going your errands, and if I had my way I’d split that head of yours with my hatchet.” %T spose you're used to it. Brant?” “No.” “Brant is here,” said a quiet voice, would you have with him?” “T wanted to tell you something, if you will answer me a question to pay for it.” “ Ask your question then I can tell.” “T should ’a’ said two questions. Where is Dockstader’s mother—the woman we called Mag, the Witch—and the Mohawk chief cajled Neadawa?” “‘T know but little of Neadawa, He does not live in the Mohawk village, but has set up his wigwam in the deep woods, five miles away. The chief is a mystery to me, and he comes and goes as the cloud we see to-day and which to- morrow is gone from our gaz9. In battle he is terrible and brings home many scalps, but his voice is dumb and he can not endure to live among the Indians, and no one sees him except Whistling Wind and the white woman, you call So you won’t call “ What Mag, the Witch, who has lived in the woods near his cabin.” “Where are they now?” ‘Mag is here, but where Neadawa is I cannot tell. He may be with us to-morrow, or he may not come atall. What will you tell mein re- turn for this?” “Tf you will send a man up the Tecahawara you'll find Whistling Wind in the bushes, tied hand and foot, It’snouse to leave the little cuss there to starve.” Brant gave one of the guards an order in the Indian tongue and he hurried away, while Brant remained leaning against a tree, ‘Is McKean in Cherry Valley?” he said, at length. “No; he has gone to Fort Plain with his family.” “ Thatis not right,” said Brant. ‘' He sent me a challenge, and [ have come to answer it, and now he isnot here. He isa fine soldier to run away like that.” “Captain McKean is a brave sojer, and he wouldn’t leave if ho thought there was any chance.” “T know it,” said Brant. ‘‘I would rather take him than any man in Cherry Valley, but I would not have harnied a hair of his head, I am sorry that he is not here to meet me,” The Indian who had been sent away at this moment returned, and the sachem, after prom- ising that they sould not be harmed, went hastily away. The afternoon passed, and Murphy re- mained bound tothe tree facing his demented friend, who remained with his head bowed, without speaking a word. There was a look of the deepest dejection in his face, and his eyes had a mournful expression. Murphy was in agony for the fate of Cherry Valley, for he felt that, while Alden was in command, proper pre- cautions would not be taken, If he had known that Campbell, unable to prevail upon the colo- nel, had mounted and started for Fort Plainsto burry up reinforcements, his dread would have been greater, for he knew that Campbell under- stood the men with whom he had to deal, As he stood there he writhed in his bonds, and had nearly loosened one hand, when one of the To- ries, with a violent oath, struck him upon the mouth with his clinched hand. ‘¢You had better stop that, Tim Murphy. I know you of old, andif you try that again [ll give you the knife instead of the fist. Do you understand that?” : ; “Yes, I seer to realize it,” said Tim, shaking his head. ‘Curse you, don’t hita man when he’s tied.” “Strike him again, Epps, strike him again. Cm getatbim, and Vl mark his face for ife. It was his ancient enemy, Mag, the Witch, upon whom the ten y ars past had made no perceptible change. The same sharp, vindictive face, the same bent form, and piercing black eyes, She stopped shortas the guard crossed his musket between her and the prisoner and held her back, ‘“No, no, mother Mag. It won't do, you know, for Captain Brant has promised that they shall not be injured, and I, for one, don’t mean to make an enemy of Thayendanegea,”
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. “You are a coward, to let an Indian frighten you like that.” “You ain’t got anything to say against an Tnjin, much less a Mohawk, when you know that your meatand drink come from them this ten year or more,” cried Tim. ‘‘Is’pose you have forgot who Jake Dockstader was, and the cross in his blood?” : “Your foul tongue has wagged too long, Tim Murphy,” she hissed. ‘TI tried to quiet it long ago, and failed. I shall not fail the second time, you may be sure. Ha, Ralph Campbell, madman, fool, what think you now of Mag, the Witch, and her revenge?” Campbell raised his head and looked at her steadily, his clouded mind seeming to struggle for remembrance of her part in this wrongs. Mag quailed before the steady glare of those firm eyes, and stepped back a pace or two, mut- tering to herself, ““ Her name?” cried Ralph. ‘Ah! ITremember now. Mag, the Witch, demon, fiendish woman; if my hands were loose I wouid teach you what revenge is, The boy! She has him, and must give him up to me, dead or alive.” i ow do you call him crazy?” cried Mag. It is an imposition intended to deceive the Mohawks, He is as sane as I am,” Tndeed, he seemed so. His eyes no longer blazed with the fire of insanity, although he strove with all his might to ane his bonds, re Keep quiet,” growled the Tory called Epps. You'd better, ef you know wihiat’s good for ou. “Take her away, then, take her away. I cannot bear the sight of her cruel face. Take these cords off, will you? Her name is on my aper, and she is marked to die. Locse me, and let me do my work as quickly as I can.” “Go away, mother Mag,” said the Tory. ‘ is > " ‘Go away, I say. You are driving him mad, and I’ve got orders agin’ letting anybody talk with him,” Mag slowly retreated, shaking her hand at prisoners and muttering invectives of the fiercest kind, ‘Look to it,” she said. ‘ Before to-morrow night my revenge will be complete, and when Samuel Campbell lies wounded under my ee I will shriek my name in his ear, and he wil Ow who launched the bolt against him. atch your prisoners well, Epps, for if I can &et to them they will cumber the earth no more,” “You look out for her,” said Tim, ‘She carries pizoned weepons, and ef she gets a chaince she'll use °em.” I wouldn’t care much,” replied Epps. Tim addressed one of the Mohawks in his own tongue, and he promised to see that she did not get near them. The sun went down, the stars Sige ite in the sky, and then the clouds began © drift across the horizon, and a light snow fell, covering all the land. And there, in the November night, the band awaited the coming | of the morning. _ CHAPTER XI. State AA SELORR. alk Ki THE ing came slowly, a quiet, peacefu day, the white snow contrasting Fits the dart: green foliage of the evergreens, and Cherry Valley was at peace. Noone dreamed of dan- ger, and the soldiery in the fort were dozing in their quarters, pitching quoits upon the green, or playing at cards for Fabarous wealth in con- tinental money, Colonel Alden, with his lieu- tenant-colonel, lodged with a family named Wells, outside the fort. Moving cautiously forward, the Tories and Indians paused upon a low hill, covered with evergreens, from which they could look down upon the unsuspecting village. Alden was a brave man, although far from a, politic one. He had scouted the story of Indian incursions from conviction, on account of the retreat of Brant in the spring, and be did not think it possible that any great force threatened the village. He believed that it was but a repe- tition of the incursion in the springs and having two hundred and fifty men under his command, the colonel slept in security. The tenth of November, 1778, was a dark day in the history of the border colonies. Historians have striven to throw the blame of that fearful massacre entirely upon Brant, but the men who know best, and no one was better able to judge than the Campbell family, say that Walter Butler and his miscreants were more cruel than even the Senecas, the fiercest tribe of all. Thayendanegea has gone to his rest, long since. No doubt he killed many, but it was the fault of his Indian blood, and he fought according to the light he had. Certainly he was noble-minded enough to entertain a supreme contempt of Walter Butler and men of that class, and only joined them from policy. Tbe family had arisen and were sitting to- gether in the large room in front of the house, conversing upon the prospects of war. The colonel was loud in his complaints against Campbell, who had so stirred up the fears of the people and had now gone to Fort Plain for reinforcements against his advice. The family of Wells were all in the room, his brother and sister and three of his sons, with Lieutenant- Colonel Stacia. ‘*T don’t know, colonel,” said Stacia, ‘Tim Murphy is hardly the man to scare us without a cause, and he brought the news from Schuyler.’ ‘“Murphy is a visionary sort of a fellow, and wanted to make his visit to Cherry Valley in- teresting.” “JT think it would be as well to move the pecvle into the fort for a day or two,” persisted tacia, “T am not going to countenance any such foolishness, Stacia. Confound it, man, if we begin that sort of thing, we shall have the peo- ple running into the fort every time an Indian is seen,” “T hardly think Butler would injure our fam- _ ily,” said Wells. ‘ We were very intimate with him_ once.” A “Tf you count upon the friendship of the But- ler family you reckon without your host,” said Stacia. ‘Their tender mercies are cruel in the extreme, and they hate the Whigs of Tyron be- yond mdasure, Don’t count upon ancient friend- shipsin this case. I know that Brant, vilified as he is, will be more merciful than Walter Butler, who escaped from the noose by treachery, and
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Sree ps et Ore Ya) oe ere t - ies 5 pg Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. - a SSS el who would almost give his life for vengeance’ sake.” “Bah! Walter Butler is not coming, I tell you,” cried Alden. ‘‘ You are infected with the popular fear, Stacia?” “‘T never was accused of being a coward, sir,” said Stacia, “t Nobody accuses you now, but it offends me to the soul to hear a man talk as you do, at this juncture.” At this moment there arose a clamor outside, and the rapid beat of hoofs, Stacia ran to the window and looked out, and saw a man coming ata breakneck gallop down the street, shouting ashecame, The quick eye of the lieutenant- colonel recognized Tim Murphy, goading the horse he rode by touching him with the point of a knife. How had ho escaped? At the moment the Tory force was put in mo- tion the prisoners had been released and hurried forward to give information which Butler de- sired before entering the town. Butler had some friends in Cherry Valley, and one especial- ly whom _ he wished to save without the knowl- edze of Thayendanegea, who knew and haved the man. “Come this way, Murphy,” cried he. ‘‘T want to ask you a question.” Butler was in the saddle, and held a pistol in his hand, and he had no fear of anything the rifleman could do to harm him. He moved aside a little from the main body, and beckoned the prisoner close to him. “Do you know a man named Moulton who lives, or did live, in Cherry Valley, Tim?” “Ves, Ido, anda pizener critter don’t walk upon two feet.” “ Bo careful, sir. James Moulton is my friend, and I wish to save him. Where is he now?” “T reckon he don’t need any help from you, eaptin.” “ Why not?” “Cause he was shot asa spy at Schuyler a year ago, and is buried inside the fort. Ganse- voort caught him sneaking round the fort, with the British instructions in his pocket, and that let him ont,” Butler knitted his dark brows sternly at this news and made a fierce gesture with the hand which heli the pistol, and Murphy saw the flint drop out of the lock. He wasa man quick to act, and when an opportunity showed itself was always ready to takait. Lifting his hand sud- denly, he dealt the Tory a terrible blow under the ear, which shot him out of the saddle upon the turf, and before the others had time to think what they would do, he was in the saddle, going down the hill like an arrow from a strong bow. There was a fierce yell from the savages, and a stream of flame leaped after him from the muz- zles of their weapons, and he felt a sharp pain in bis side as a builet plowed its~way along bis ribs. The next moment he was in Techawara Pass, going with all the speed of the noble horse he bestrode, A ride for life or death. If he could only get to the village in time he might yet save many from the impending doom. He heard the swift patter of feet behind him, the word of command from many mouths, and the shrill yells of the savages, and these spurred him to new exertions. On, on, the wind singing past his ears, his blood dropping on the sod, went the bold rifleman; he reached the village street and saw the house of Wells before him, where he knew Coijonel Alden was staying. ‘The colonel, the colonel!” “Where is he?” “Here,” cried Stacia. ‘Colonel, come to the. window.” ‘* Pish!” said Alden, rising slowly. ‘‘ Another alarm, I suppose. Well, sir, what is it?” “You are in danger. Get to the fort as soon as you can and take the family with you, For your lives, for your lives! I will ride on and give the alarm.” To the surprise of every one the colonel sat down again with an indolent yawn. “This isa plot against me,” he said. ‘*Tim Murphy is determined that I shall not have my Pg See and I am equally determined that I will. ‘“‘Wor God’s sake, colonel, don’t delay,” said Wells, inalarm. ‘Think of my family if there is any danger.” “Yip, yip, yip yah—hoo-o0-00!” pealed the war-cry of the Senecas, That moment of inde- cision cost the unhappy peuntty dear, for the swift-footed Indians had not been far behind the flying rifleman and had made straight for the house of Wells. Unfortunately for them, the Tories had stopped for a moment to look at their priming, which was out of order on ac- count of the dampness, and during the pause, the Senecas, eager for blood, sprung on in ad- vance, Mixed with the red group were several Tories of no less ferocity, and foremost of all came Neadawa, the Mute Chief, bearing a hatchet in one hand and a knife in the other, already stained with blood. The doors and windows were beaten down, and they poured in together upon the affrighted inmates. Alden saw too late that he had been deceived, and leaping from the window ran down the hill But, Neadawa and Whistling Wind had singled him out as a victim and pursued. Twice the latter called upon him to surrender, to which he replied by snapping a pistol at them, but with~ out effect, and then continued his flight, Being fleet of foot, he was widening the distance be- tween them, when Neadawa stopped, and bal- anced his hatchet for a throw. A beam of light flashed through the air, and the unfortunate colonel went down. Campbell’s house was fortified strongly, for, seeing that Alden would do nothing to insure the safety of those committed to his charge, the colonel had taken every means in his power to protect his own people from assault. Strong shutters, securely bolted upon the inside, pro- tected the windows, and the doors were guarded with iron bars. But Campbell being away, they had shared with Alden a certain feeling of se- curity, and until Tim Murphy dashed up to the door they had no thought of danger; but My who was at the door, called thither by the grea’ tumult, was the first to see him. “TInjins!” he cried. ‘ Into the house with you, and bar the doors.” g : Myra was quick to act, and Tim worked like ahero. Already the yells of the Indians sound- ed in their ears, and they heard the rush of coming feet, but the door of massive oak now he gasped.
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. stood between them and their enemies. At the Same time the Rangers of Butler poured into the town, driving before them a few scattered sol- diers, who had been caught outside the fort. Stacia was a prisoner, Alden dead, and the com- mand devolved upon minor officers, who had luckily reached the fort in time. But their weak numbers precluded the possibility of standing up against the heavy force of the enemy outside, and all they could hope to do was to defend the fort, without giving protec- tion to the unfortunates of the village. Then was enacted one of those fearful scenes which so circ the history of those times, The family of Robert Wells perished miserably, although a faint effort was made by a Tory to save the uv- fortunate Jane, but, pushing him aside with one hand the ferocious savage who had marked her for bis prey buried his hatchet in her temple. The Reverend Mr. Dunlap, one of the pioneers of the settlement, saw his wife murdered before his eyes, and was only sayed by the interposition of Little Aaron, the Mohawk, who, like Brant, did not delight in the slaughter of old men and helpless innocence. Mitchell, another pioneer, finding himself cut off from the village, took to the woods and escaped. Returning when the enemy had retired, he found his wife and three children lying dead under his burnin roof, and a fourth child, a girl of tender age, with some little life remaining. While striving to revive her, he heard footsteps returning, and concealed himself just as a straggling party of Tories and Indians, led by a sergeant, named Newberry, rushed into the house. Seeing the girl upon the floor, mangled by his infamous as- Sociates, but still alive, he finished her struggles by a blow from a hatchet, while the wretched father, from his hiding-place, looked on in agony, unable to give her aid. _ Mag the Witch was not idle, and’ with a blaz- ing torch in one hand and a hatchet in the other, accompanied the Indians in their work of death, All that was savage in her nature Seemed to be aroused by the bloody scene, and She laughed in demoniac glee as she passed the Mangled forms of men and women she hed lated when living. At last she came to Camp- ’s house, where with axes and a bar, a party of Tories and Mohawks, incited by Neadawa, Were struggling to break in. The Mute Chief fought like a demon, his face full of fury, and @ old woman saw that he had been wounded, for his left hand was enveloped in a bloody cloth. Uttering fierce but inarticulate eries, he Sided the efforts as much as he could with his Single hand, until, vielding at length to their United efforts, the great door went down with a Crash, and they poured in to the destruction of _ the inmates, Murphy saw that all was over and that he must save himself. Myra was al- Teady struggling in the grasp of the Mute Chief, Who evidently did not intend to slay her, for he Pushed back Mag with his hatchet when she _ Yushed at the prisoner with gleaming blade, gd a Me signal of disapprobation. « ., Where is Samuel Campbell?” screamed Mag. Do you think I have waited all these years to be balked at last? Where is he, I say?” here your malignity cannot reach him, k Heaven,” said Myra. x 27 “Where is my sor, Newberry?” cried the hag. addressing the Tory sergeant, who afterward killed Mitchell’s child. ‘‘ Why is he not here to see revenge torn from his grasp?” ‘‘ He stayed with the rear guard. That hand hurt hirn so much he wouldn’t fight to-day.” ‘*T believe my son is turning coward. What's that?” A terrific combat sounded in the next room, and, bursting in the door, they were just in time to see Tim Murphy leap out of the window, leaving two Monawks dead upon the floor. A furious attack upon the fort followed, in which the rifle of Tim Murphy avenged some of the poor murdered victims outside. He tried to get sight of Walter Butler or Dockstader, but both these worthies kept themselves well out of sight, having no desire to fall victims to the deadly aim of the man whose bullet had brought down Frazer, at Bemis Heights. Cherry Valley was a mass of smoking ruins, and among them lay the forms of thirty-two slain cf the inhabitants and sixteen soldiers who had fallen in the first onset, And Myra Campbell, Samuel Camp- bell’s wife, and many more, were led pyisoners toward the distant North. CHAPTER XI. THE FATAL SHOT. BUTLER, having done ajl the evil possible’ in Cherry Valley, called off his forces and began his retreat, having given up any slight idea he might have had of taking the fort itself for the infamous cowards under his command were only equal to the task of murdering unarmed men, women and children. Once out of the limits of the settlement, he broke up his band, who departed by different routes, with instruc- tions to meet at a point not far from Canajo- harie. The Mute Chief, with his prisoners, consisting of Ralpb Campbell and his wife, with a dozen Indians and half as many Tory rangers and the savages, marched rapidly, forcing their prisoners with them, and threatening them with the greatest cruelties if they did not keep up. Half naked, pinched by cold and hunger, and Ralph suffering from a wound he fad re- ceived by accident, it is a wonder that they did not pores on the way; but, woman’s love for her husband is strong, and Myra was upheld by the wish to remain with her husband, and to comfort him. Mag the Witch was cf the party, riding a shaggy Indian pony, and letting slip no opportunity of heaping indignities upon the unfortunate prisoners. They camped at night upon one of the tribu- tary branches of the Mohawk, and the Mute Chief approached the suffering woman, and offered ber food and drink. “Give it to my husband,” she said, ‘He needs it more than I do.” Neadawa shook his head sternly, and made a signal for Whistling Wind to come up, giving him an order by his usual mode of communi- cation. Eat,” said Whistling Wind. ‘The chief commands.” ; “Yon may tell the chief then that a weak woman defies him, if he thinks to force her to éat, and will not give food to her husband.” “Then he will kill you,” replied Whistling
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28 _ Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. Wind. ‘‘ Beware that you do not rouse the bad blood in the heart of Neadawa.” “T can die, if need be, but I will not yield to him. Give my husband food and then I will eat too, and be grateful for it.” Seeing that she was not to be intimidated, they placed feod and drink before Ralph Camp- bell, and unbound his hands. He had not tasted anything sincs the night before, and ate voraciously, now and then glancing at the set face of Neadawa in a fixed, intent way, as if studying something there which puzzled him. Seeing her husband eat, Myra also took some food, while the Indians and white men built fires and sat about them, There was a slight stripling in the dress of the Red Rangers who sat apart from the rest, scarcely exchanging a word with any one except Mag, and that in the Indian tongue. He kept his face turned away from the party, but there was something in his air which remindel Myra of some one she had seen before, and she called Whistling Wind, “ Who is that young Indian sitting by Mag?” ‘“ Neadawa’s son.” “The one who was in the village, ten years ago?” The Indian nodded slowly, but refused to an- swer more questions. Shortly after, this Mag left her seat upon the log and came to the . place where Myra was sitting. ** My revenge is not quite complete,” she said, ~‘ Nor can it be until Samuel Campbell is dead. I shall live long enough to sea that yet, and it is something to know that, when he returns to his home, he will find it desolate, his wife and children prisoners, and man nor child nor living thing remaining under his roof. This is all my work, mine! Lam proud of it, so proud that I can hardly endure the feeling. You tremble, and you wonder why I hate him, and I think it time for you to know. Do you see this locket? Open it and look at the faces it contains.” She removed from her neck the golden locket, which she had opened upon the night when her son was banishe1l, and placed it in Myra’s hand, and the young wife looked wonderingly at the picture 1 faces, “Do you recognize the faces?” “No; yet it seems to me that in the man’s face thera is a likeness to my husband’s uncle, Sam- uel Camp ell.” “There is, and with good reason, for he was of the same blood—bis cousin, though older than Campbell. You do not know the, other face but you have sean it often, Changed from what it was when that picture was painted forty years ago, but time set; his mark upon all faces, That picture is my own,” “Yours?” “'Yos, You loox at mo in wonder that I should lay claim to this, but it is true. That man was my husband, and my name was Mar- garet Fuller. I married him because he loved mo, and for that his parents cast him off, and he died miserably in the flower of his youth, worn out by sorrow and toil. Whydid they hate me? Because I was a Gitana, one of the outcast race of Egypt, and the daughter of a king among them, They hunted us down, the prond race of the Campbells, and never rested until my hus- band was under the sod; and that wealth which ny should have been his, which would have saved him, went to this same Samuel Campbell, whom T hate. _I came to him in New York and claim- ed my place, but he called me a Gypsy drab and cast me out. I was young then, and 1 swore that, sooner or later, | would have revenge. I left New York, helpless, homeless, and wan- dered out into the forest. There I was found by the man who became my husband, and I mar- ried him because he promised to avenge me on my adversary. But fate seemed against us, Three times bis life was saved almost by a miracle, and at last, while tempering a poisoned knife for him, my husband wounded himself in the hand and perished. At this time we had followed the Campbells to Cherry Valley, in the hope of vengeance, and I was left alone with my son, then a boy of eighteen. I trained him up for vengeance, and, after long years, he suc- ceeded. Then, years ago your husband brought upon his head the same vengeance, and you see the result.” “Cruel woman, do yod not see that all this is recoiling on yourself? It is true that you have destroyed my happiness, but what does it avail you, when you know that the man you have pursued so remorselessly for many years has escaped from your toils?” “There is time yet. He knows from whence the blow comes—none so well as he, and when he looks upon his ruined home he will say, ‘Margaret has been at work.’” “Yet we defy you still, and God will Set re- quire justice at your hands for the innocent blood you have been the means of shedding. It is a long road of guilt and crime you have traveled, but something speaks to mo and tells me that your time is nearly done. A prophetic voice—the utterance of which I cannot under- stand—tells mo this. And when you come. to the bar of God, how will you answer for the crimes of which ae are guilty? The blood of all the martyred innocents of Cherry Valley is on your soul.” “Some fiend makes you speak in this way, woman. What care Lif a hundred tongues cry out against me? I have had revenge, and Gil- bert Warrington, my husband, is in part avenged. When your feet bleed in the weary march to Canada, when you see your husband at the stake, remember that it is my work.” “Where is your son? Even he cannot be as cruel as you are.” ‘He will meet us after we cross the Mohawk, and when he does, bid good-by to your husband, for there he meets his fate. Iam not one to turn back from any course I have marked out, and I will tread it untalteringly, even to the end,” “Leave me to myself, vindictive woman,” said Myra, covering her face, A At this moment, one of the Tories spoke some sharp words to Whistling Wind, and pointed to the prisoners as he did so, and the savage called to the Mute Chief. “This white man says they shall not be wronged!” he shrieked. ‘‘ And [ say that they shall burn.” The Mute Chief shook his head, and his quick fingers flashed out a reply. ‘You say that the man we may burn, but the
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. woman must come into your lodge?” demanded ! Whistling Wind. Neadawa made an affirmative gesture, and Whistling Wind looked gratified. “ Wait,” said Mag, starting up. ‘‘This must not be. Do you think I have worked for my “son so long, to see him robbed of his revenge at this late hour? You must wait until he comes.” ““ When men go out upon the war-path, the Women must keep silent,” said Whistling Wind, in the Indian tongue, which she perfectly un- derstood. ‘‘ Woman, what do the Mohawks care for your son?” * Fool!” she hissed. ‘‘ You know not what you say. Dockstader must be here when the ee curls up about the body of Ralph Camp- “He must die now!” replied Whistling Wind, “or he will escape. I heard Butler and Captain Brant whisper in each other’s ears that the pris- oners should be set free when they reached the Mohawk, Shall all our libur be in vain?’ ‘You sball wait for my son,” replied Mag. “Are you the man to brave me, Whistling Wind? I defy vou and all your red fiends, and say that Ralph Campbell must live until my son comes,” During this dialogue, the Mute Chief stood with his head bent in thoughtful attitude and his hand playing with the handle of his hatchet, evidently loth to interfere. “You have said that he shall die,” said the old Mohawk, appealing to the Mute Chief. ‘Tell this woman, so that she may hear it.” ‘J care no more for his commands than yours, so that you need not trouble him,” replied Mag. **Onee for eas must wait.” Whistling Wind made a sudden spring, de- signing to seize the old woman and thrust her aside; but, to the horror of all, she made a cat- like leap to one side, and something bright _ flashed in the rays of the declining sun. So sud- den was the blow, that not a hand could be Taivcd to interfere, and Whistling Wind fell. The Indians rose as one man, and tomahawks and knives flashed in the sunrays. It was at this mcment that Ralph Campbell, who had been working at the cords upon his legs during this scene, completely cleared his limbs from the rope, anu, seizing his wife by the waist laced himself at one bound in the midst of the tory guard, who rose with leveled weapons te protect him. *“T warned him,” screamed Mag. ‘Ha! ha! Who else among you will try the poisoned dag- ger of Mag the Witch? Let him speak now, or hold his peace forever.” The Mute Chief had given utterance to one of his inarticulate cries when Whistling Wind fell, and stood apparently stupefied at the horrible act, while his comnanions leveled their weapons atthe heart of the old woman. He ran in be- _ fore their weapons and pushed them back, and then, raising the body of Whistling Wind, he laid it on the sod and thrust his band into the clothing to see if he yetlived. This man had been useful to him, a sort of interpreter in the little he had to say, and had clung to_ his tor- tunes closely. And now, he lay dead. Neadawa peared to his feet and looked at the Indians, who had as yet made no attempt to take back | 29 their prisoners, or to avenge the death of Whistling Wind. They waited for the orders of their chief. One, who was a leading brave, spoke a few words to Neadawa inthe Indian tongue, and asked him if he should be spokesman, and the chief inclined his head in an uncertain manner, The Indian who had been selected as spokes- man advanced, and spread out his hands in an impressive gesture. “My brothers, see what has been done,” he said, ‘‘ Whistling Wind lies dead, and this woman is his murderer. The Mute Chief asks through me, that you should give her up to us.” “T can’t do that,” replied a Tory sergeant. “*The man bad no business to touch her. She’s a born devil, I allow, but though she’s guilty by our law, and must hang for it, I won't give her up to your tender mercies.” ‘The chief will not take this for an answer. His friend is dead, and he can not wait for the slow justice of the white man. He would have her die at once.” ‘Does he say that?” screamed Mag. <* Yeu.2? Mag snatched a pistol from the belt of the man whw stood nearest, and discharged its con- tents into the bosom of the Mute Chief. He threw up his hands, and, as he fell, to the sur- prise and horror of all, the mute tongue spoke, “You have killed-me, mother!” It was the voice of the half-breed, Tom Dock- stader. CHAPTER XII. IN HIS OWN SNARE. MaG, with a fearful cry of agony, ran to the side of her dying son and raised his head upon her lap. She saw now how she herself had been deceived by her son, in his assumed character of the Mute Chief. Paint had disguised his face, and the tongue which would have betrayed him, he had with almost superhuman fortitude kept chained for many years, rather than lose caste among the Mohawks. His long disappearances from Cherry Valley were now explained, for they understood that, at these times, in his character as the Mute Chief, he had taken part in the wars of the Mohawks. Living apart from them as he did, rarely seeing any one ex- cept his Indian wife, it isno wonder that he had not been long ago detected. He had xept up the deception even with his mother, only visiting ber in bis true character, Even histlin z Wind, who had been his faithful servant for twenty years, during which he had worn the garb of the Mohawk at intervals, never doubted but that he was a true Indian, as. indeed, he was at beart. Posséssing ali we taciturn de- meanor of the savage, taken from his father, and added to the fact that his tongue was silent, he had kept up the deceit, even unto death, “Tt is all over, mother. I’m shot to death, but I little thought yours would be the hand to strike the blow, and that in the defense of Ralph Campbell.” “Tt was for your sake I did it. My poor boy —my hoy Tom! Oh, that I should ever live to see this day.” ‘* Drat it, mother, never mind. I’ve thought
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Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. ati my life I’d never die in bed, and I don’t know that I keer to. Mine has been a wild life, and it has a wild ending. Don’t think I’m turnia’ soft because I ask you something that’ll go ag’in tho grain. Look at Ralph Campbell; he’s been my inemy through life, and now 1 look at him, it: seems to me it would hev bin less punishment for him ef we'd a-killed him taat night than to let him live as he does. Drop it, and do your best to make amends.” “Not I!” replied Mag, hoarsely. ‘‘ You wouldn’t ask it but that the death-damp is gatherin’ on your forehead, tho death I gave yvou—lI, that loved you so much and so long.” “T don’t know what to say to you, mother. I kaow that you've had great wrongs, and suf- fered much, butso have they. Whar’s the boy? Ef you won’t tell them, T must.” At this moment the clatter of hoofs was heard, anda large party of the Tory rangers, led by Butler, and accompanied by Joseph Brant, rode up and joined them. ‘‘ What is this?’ cried Brant, in alarm. ‘‘ Who has slain Neadawa?” ‘‘ Neadawa no more,” replied Dockstader, in a hollow voice. ‘‘ You see no longer the Mute Chief, but Tom Dockstader, the descendant of a Mohawk chief, lies dying here. DPve been a wicked man, but [ve always done justice to the Inlians—always,” Thayendanegea turned away, and descending fron the saddle, saluted Myra courteously, who was yet standing, encircled by the arm of her husband, while Mag still held her defiant atti- tude. Just then a boy in the dress of the Tory rangers, tall and strong, with a brown, but handsome, face, rode up and addressed the son of Neadawa in the Incian tongue. Dock- stador raised bimself with an effort, and point- ing to the lad, cried out: “There is your son, Myra Campbell; pray for the rest of my soul.” Witk these words his spirit fled, and the boy who had been pointed out became the observed of all eyes, yea opened her arms, and, with a joyful cry, he ran to her and threw himself into them, and was fondly pressed to that maternal breast. Gypsy Mag the Witch glared with wolfish eyes about her, and erying, ‘‘I will triumph yet,” sprung at the pair with uplifted knife. But, slipping, she fell prostrate, and the dagger found a sheath in her own breast. Young Ralph Campbell and his father stood fave to face, a startled expression in the counte- nance of the elder, and of wonder and pity in that of the boy, He had not forgotten the beau- tiful face of his mother nor the stately form of his father, Suddenly the maniac put his hand to his head, gave a terrible cry, and fell at the feet of his son, Walter Butler’s surgeon was with the party, and he attended to the fallen man, aud, after a great effort, brought him back to consciousness, When his eyesopened they no longer beamed with the fires of madness, and he knew the face of his wife. “My darling,” he cried, ‘* how is this? Where am |?” ‘*- You have been very ill,” replied Myra, ‘* but you are better now. Is he not, doctor?” ‘* Certainly; as healthy in every way as you and I. In fact, cured by the shock of meeting his son so suddenly after many years,” “Thank you, doctor. Lo. k, Ralph, here is our son, and though be has forgotten the lan- guage he learned from my lips, he knew me in an instant. Captain Brant, where are we to go?” “You are to be released and allowed to go to Fort Plain. I am sorry that my men forgot themselves in their desire for blood, but it has turned out happily for you. Two such enemies as those who lie dead one could not easily find. Six of my young men sball take you safely with- in sight of Fort Plain, and may the people of Cherry Valley in the time to come, beware how they insult a great chief.” “My son goes with me, does ho not, captain? You would not separate us,” ‘Tt shall be as he says,” said the chief, speak~- ing to the boy in the Indian tongue. He threw fs arm about his mother’s neck by way of re- ‘‘Tt is enough!” said Thayendanegea, ‘The love of his mother is strong in the boy’s heart, and he will go home with her. Let him remem- ber that the Indians loved him well.” He picked outa guard of trusty men, and bade him farewell, Tho rescued party, father, mother and son, escorted by the six strong Mohawks, set ont teward the friendly village, which they reached in safety. Ralph was in weak health for over a year, but at the end of that time a strong constituiion triumphed, and he became the same strong man he was before this affliction fell upon him, The Indian boy who had been called the son ef Neadawa, was indeed his child, for, unknown to his mother, he had married a woman of tho Mohawk nation in bis character as the Mute Chief. He was now a young man, nearly twenty years of age, and had remained the true friend of little Ralph during his imprisonment. He remained with the Mohawks, and in time became a celebrated warrior, lived a brave life, and died, at a green old age, in the lodges of his people, Tim Murphy lived through the war and trained his recovered pet in woodcraft. His name is not unknown in the annals of “Old Tryon.” THE END,
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mae ie), We = a ah iy i ¥ \ . 4 R. wll a ~~ oS : * a a. = BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY. a 252 Denver Doll’s Device; or, The Detective Queen, By Edward L, Wheeler. 253, The Boy Tenderfoot. By Capt. Mark Wilton. 254 Black Hills Ben; or, Dutch Jan on the War- Path. By Maj. Lewis W. Carson. 255 Jolly Jim, Detective. By Charles Morris. 256 Merle Monte’s Last Cruise; or, The Sea Robber at Bay. ee Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ..%7 The Boy Cnief of Rocky Pass; or, The Young California Pards. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain. 258 Denver Doll as Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. 259 Little Foxeye, the Colorado Spy. By Oll Coomes, 260 Skit, the Cabin Boy. By Edward Willett. 261 Blade, the Pets or, the Giant of Clear Grit Yamp. By T. C. Harbaugh. 262 Billy, the Boy Rover. By Col. P. Ingraham. 263 Buster Bob’s Buoy; or, Lige, the Light-House Keeper. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 264 Denver Doll’s Pariner. By Edward L. Wheeler. 265 Billy, the Baggage Boy: or, The Young Railroad Detective. Ky Charles Morris. 266 Guy’s Boy Chum; or, The Forest Waif’s Mask. By Capt. Comstock. 267 Giant George’s Revenge. By Buckskin Sam. 268 The Deadshot Dandy. By Col. P. Ingrabam. 269 The Quartzville Boss; or, Daring David Darke. By Edward Willett. ‘ 270 Denver Doll’s Mine. By Edward L. Wheeler. 271 Ebony Jim’s Terror; or, Ranger Rainbolt’s Ruse. By Oll Coomes. 272 Kit, the Girl Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh. 273 The Girl Rider; or, Nimble Ned’s Surprise. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. ; 274 Dead Shot Dandy’s Double; or, Benito, the Boy Pard. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 275 Wred, the Ocean Waif; or, The Old Sailor’s Protege. By Charles Morris. 276 Deadwood Dick Trapped. By Ed L. Wheeler. 277 The I tiot Boy Avenger; or, Captain Wild-Cat’s Big Game. By Albert W. Aiken. 278 Arizona Alf, the Miner; or, Little Snap Shot’s Luck. By T. C, Harbaugh. 279 Colorado Jack, the Tiger. By Fred. Dewey, 280 Dead Shot Dandy’s Last Deal, or, Keno Kit’s New Role. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 281 Ned, the Boy Pilot. By Jack Farragut. 282 Buck Hawk, Detective; or. the Messenger Boy’s Fortune. By Edward L. Wheeler. 283 Roving Sport Kis. By Edward Willett. + 284 The Showman’s Best Card; or, The Mad Anima] Tamer. _ By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 285 Old Rocky's Pard. By Buckskin Sam. 286 Dick, the Dakota Sport. By Charles Morris, 287 Ned, the Boy ee By Jack Farragut. 288 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise. By EB. L, Wheeler, 289 Colorado Nick, the Lasscist; or, Old Si's Protege. By Major H. B. Stoddard. 290 Rube, the Tenderfoot: or, the Boys of Torpedo Guich. By Major E. L, St. Vrain. 291 Peacock Pete, the Leadville Sport; or, Hawk, the Boss Miner. By Albert W. Aiken. ; 292 Joe Morey, the Night-Hawk; or, the Black Rider, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 293 Dwarf Jake. the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon’s Man-Hunt. By Edward Willett, 294 Dumb Dick’s Pard. By Edward L. Wheeler. | 295 White Wing, the Ferret Flyer. ay Chas. Morris. 4296 Govinda, the Tiger-Tamer; or, The American Horseman Abroad. By Captain F. Whittaker. 297 Arizona Giant George; or, The Boyees of Sardine- Box City. By Buckskin Sam, 298 Daisy Doll’s Dash. By T. C. Harbaugh. 299 The Balloon Detectives. By Harry Enton. 300 Deadwood Dick’s Mission. By E. L. Wheeler, 801 pens Duke, the Cowboy. By Major E. L, St. rain. 302 Big Benson’s Bet.. By T. C. Harbaugh. 803 Tbe Hotel Boy Detective. By Charles Morris, 304 Bald Head’s Pard. By Buckskin Sam. 305 Dusky Dick’s Duel. By Harry Hazard, 806 Spotter Fr‘tz; or, The Store-Detective’s Decoy. By E. L. Wheeler. 807 Nick, the Boy Sport. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. 308 Double-Fisted Mat: or, The Mystic California, Giant. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 309 Old Graybeard’s Boy; or, The Girl’s Ruse. By C, Dunning Clark. — 310 Kit, the Girl Captain. By Col. P. Ingraham. 311 Frio Fred in Texas. By Buckskin Sam. 812 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassafras City. By Edward L. Wheeler. 318 Honest Jack’s Protege. By Philip 8. Warne. 814 Clip, the Boy Sheriff. By Edward Willett 315 Tom, the Arizona Sport. By Maj. E. L, St, Vrain. 316 The Streeé Arab Detective. By Charles Morris, 317 Buckskin Ben of Texas. By Buckskm Sam. 318 Colorado Charie’s Detective Dasa; or, The Cattle Kings. By Edward L. Wheeler. 319 Frisky Fran's in Idaho. By Roger Starbuck. $20 Cool Sam’s Girl Pard. By T. C. Harbaugh. $21 Billy, the Kid from Frisco. By J. C. Cowdrick. 322 Fred Flyer, Detective. By Charles Morris. 323 Dead Shot Ike in Montana. By R. Starbuck. 824 Kit, the Denver Sport. By Edward L. Wheeler. 325 Dusky Darrell the Camp Detective; or, The Dandy’s Daring Dash. By Kdwin Emerson. 826 Roy, the Boy Cruiser. By Colonel P. Ingraham. 327 Ned, the Roving Miner. By Harry Hazard. 328 Rocky Ben’s Band; or, Big Pete’s Big Haul. By W. J. Hamilton. 829 sia the Colorado Wrestler. By Maj. E. L. St. rain. 830 The Denver Sport’s Racket; or, Kit’s Big Boom. By Edward L. Wheeler. 331 The Coast Detective. By Roger Starbuck. 332 Dakota Dan in Canyon City. By Philip S. Warne, 338 Bootblack Ben, the Detective; or, Pooler Jim and His Pard. By Anthony P. Morris. 334 Frisco Tom on Deck. By George Henry Morse. 335 Ben Bandy, the Boss Pard; or, The Plucky Parson. By J. Stanlev Henderson. 336 Fred, the Sport, in Brimstone Bar Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 387 Daisy Dave the Colorado Galoot; or, The Boss of Dead Line City. By T. C. Harbaugh. 338 The Gold Bar Detective. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain 339 Rardo, the Boy Gypsy. By Wm. G. Patten. 340 Billy Bubble’s Big bars; By Charles Morris, ?41 Colorado Steve’s Dash. By Philip S. Warne. 342 Snap-Shot Sam. By Bucksin Sam. 343 Mike. the Bowery Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. 344 The Drummer Sport. By Edward Willett. 345 Jaques, the Hardpan Detective; or, Captain Frisco the Road-Agent. By J. ©. Cowdrick. 346 Joe, the Chicago Arab. By Charles Morris. 347 Middy Herbert’s Prize. By Col. P. Ingraham, 318 Sharp-Sltooter Frank. By Buckskin Sam. 849 Buck, the Miner. By Maj. EB. L. St. Vrain. 850 Ned, the Slab City Sport. By Ed. lL. Wheeler. 351 Rocky Mountain Joe. By Col. T. H. Monstery. 852 New York Tim. By Charles Morris. 353 The Girl Pilot. By Roger Starbuck, 354 Joe, the Boy Stage-Driver. By Maj. St. Vrain. 355 Texas Frank’s Crony. By Buekstin Sam. 356 Idaho Ned, Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 357 Guy, the Boy Miner. By Col. P. Ingraham. 358 Jersey Joe, the Old Tar. By Mrs. Orin James, 359 Dandy Dick's Dash. By Oll Coomes, 360 Jim’s Big Bonanza. by W. J. Hamilton. 361 Oregon Phil, tne Sport By Philip S. Warne. 352 Kit. tne Bootblack Detective. By E. L. Wheeler, 363 The Ocean Racer, By T. C. Harbaugh. 361 Fritz’s Old Sear By Ned Buntline. ' 5) Crack Shot Harry. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 6 Gold Dast Rock. By G. Waldo Browne, 367 Fred’s Bold Game, By Paul Bibbs. . 368 Jim, the Sport in Wake-up By Ed. L, Wheeler, 369 Captain Blake’s Jonah. By Roger Starbuck. 370 Denver Kit’s Double. Py Major H. B. Stoddard. 871 Blue Blazes Dick. By T. 0. Harbaugh. 372 The Sea Cat's Prize. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 873 Larry O’Lynn’s Dash. By Joseph F. Henderson. 874 Jim, the Sport’s Big Boom; or, The Bonanza, waa King’s Rival. By Edward L. Wheeler. ’ 3 ee aon ee
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\ BRADLE'S POCKER LIBRARY, Wild West Sports. Detective Stories, 470 The Ranger Detective. 454 The Darky Detective. 437 Detective Jake’s Clew. By H. B, Stoddard. 3 6 Detective Paul’s Right Bower. By O. D. Clark, 887 The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Harbaugh. 875 Bowery Bob, Detective. By Jo Pierce. 362 Kit, the Bootblack Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. 356 Idaho Ned, Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 345 Jaques, the Hardpan Detective; or, Captain Frisco the Road Agent, By J. C. Cowdrick. 848 Mike, the Bowery Detective. By HE, L. Wheeler, 338 The Gold Bar Detective; or, Iron Ike, the Solid Man. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. 883 Bootblack Ben, the Detective; or, Pooler Jim and His Pard. By Anthony P, Morris. 831 The Coast Detective; or, The Smuggler Shad- ower. By Roger Starbuck. 825 Dusky Darrell, the Camp_Detective; or, The Dandy’s Daring Dash. By Edwin Emerson. 822 red Flyer, Detective; or, Abe Blizzard on Deck. By Charles Morris. 319 Frisky Fran* in Idaho; or, Old Skinflint the Shadower. By Roger Starbuck. ' 818 Colorado Charlie’s Detective Dash; The Cattle Kings. By Edward L. Wheeler 816 The Street Arab Detective; or, Dick Dorgan’s Double Dealing. By Charles Morris. 812 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassafras City. By Edward L. Whreler. 806 Spotter Fritz; or, The Store-Detective’s Decoy. By E. L. Wheeler, 803 The Hotel Boy Detective; or, The Grand Central Robbery. By Charles Morris. 299 The Balloon Detectives; Young Pard. By Harry Enton. 295 White Wing, the Ferret Flyer. By Chas, Morris, 208 Dwarf Jake, the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon’s Man-Hunt. By Edward Wiilett. 282 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, the Messenger Boy’s Fortune. By Edward L. Wheeler. 272 Kit, the Girl Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh. 265 Billy, the Baggage Boy Detective, By Chailes Morris. 258 Denver Doll as Detective. By EH. L. Wheeler. 255 Jolly Jim, Detective. By Charles Morris. 252 Denver Doll’s Device; or, the Detective Queen. By Edward L. Wheeler. 251 The Deaf Detective; or, Weasel, the Boy Tramp. By Edward Willett. 246 Detective Keen’s Apprentice; or, James'Jumper, the New York Gamin. 8y Charles Morris. 242 The Denver Detective; or, Dainty Dot at Gold Gulch. By T. C. Harbaugh. 237 Newsboy Ned. Detective; or, Two Philadelphia Gamins. By Charles Morris. Sierra Saim’s Double; or, The 'Three Female De- tectives, By E. L. Wheeler. The Preacher Detective. By Oll Coomes, Buck, the Detective. . By Albert W. Aiken. The Denver Detective. By O}l Coomes. The Messenger Boy Detective. By C. Morris, The Frontier Detective. By FE. L Wheeler. Dictionary Nat, Detective. By. 'T. C. Harbaugh. The Dandy Detective. By Charles Morris. Detective Josh Grim. By BE. L. Wheeler. The Ventriloquist Detective. By EH. L. Wheeler. Jabez Dart, Detective. By Oll Coomes. 17%5 The Arab Detective By EL. Wheeler. 427 Tony Fox, the Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. _ 105 Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. By Charles Morris. 5 £69 Detective Dick. By Charles Morris. 4 62 Will Somers, the Boy Detective. By C. Morris. 18 Death-Face, the Detective, By E, L, Wheeler. By Harry Hazard. By Mrs. Orin James, or, 236 228 219 215 209 205 199 196 193 188 183 or, Jack Slasher’s | 465 The Texan Sport; or, The Mustang Hunter. Frederick Whittaker. 442 Dirk, the Sea Sport. By Roger Starbuck, 435 An Irish Sport Abroad; or, Pat Malloney’s Ad- ventures. By C. L. Edwards. Joe, the Rover Sport. By A. H. Post. Charley Skylark, the Sport. By Major Henry B. Stoddard. Dick Talbot, the Sport.” By Albert W, Aiken, The Deadwood Sports; or, Diamond Dick’s De- liverance, By Lieut. $. G. Lansing. Short Jim’s Big Boom; or, The Bonanza King’s Rival. By Edward L. Wheeler. Short Jim in Make-Up; or, Foghorn Fan to the Front. By Edward L. Wheeler, Oregon Phil, the Sport; or, The Marshal of Two Bits. By Philip §. Warne. Ned, the Slab City Sport; or, The Detective’s Big Scoop. . By E. L. Wheeler. The Drummer Sport; or, Dilemma. By Edward Willett. Fred, the Sport; or, In Brimstone Bar Camp. By E. L. Wheeler. The Denver Sport’s Racket; or, Kit’s Big Boom. By Edward L. Wheeler. Kit, the Denver Sport. By FE. Ll. Wheeler. 5 Tom, the Arizona Sport. By Major EH. L. St. Vrain. Nick, the Roy Sport; or, Three Plucky Pards. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. Peacock Pete, the Leadville Sport, By Albert By Edward L. Wheeler, W, Aiken. Wild Walt, the Sport. Dick, the Dakota Sport. By Charles Morris. Roving Sport Kit. By Edward Willett. Blade, the Sport. By T. C. Harbaugh. The Girl Sport. By Edward L. Wheeler. Three Sports, By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, The Miner Sport. By E. L., Wheeler, The Jimtown Sport By Edward L. Wheeler. The Texan Sport Unmasked. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. . jo'd Trigger, the Sport. By T. C. Harbaugh, Chip, the Girl Sport. By Edward L. Wheeler, By 434 891 380 B77 Dasher Dick’s LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. By Capt. Frei. Whittaker. By W. J. Hamilton. By Walter N. McNeil. Edward Willett. 465 166 467 46% 469 470 The Texan Sport. The Twin Buckskins. Marsh Mose and His Dog. Jack Scott in Texas, B Donald’s Death Shot. By Lieut. Col, Hazeltine. The Ranger Detective. By Harry Hazard. 471 Roving Rifle. the Crackshot. By 'T, C. Harbaugh, 472 Joe a d Jap’s Big Find, By Edward Willett. 473 Left-Handed Pete, the Double-knife. By Jos. EB. Badger, Jr. 474 Gypsy Mag, the Mountain Witch. By C.D. Clark, 475 The Mad Skipper, By Roger Starbuck. 476 Sandy Bill of Texas. By Edward Willett. 477 Squire Boker on Deck. By Mrs, H. J. Thomas, 478 The Yankee Peddler. By C. D, Clark. Ready March Sth. A New Issue Hvery Wednesday. Brapie’s Pocket Liprary is for sale by all News- dealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on re- eeipt of six cents each, Brapite anp ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York,