Deadwood Dick Library (v. 1) (1899 06 07)

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fopyright 1878-1884, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York. N. Y., as second class matter. Mar. 15, 1899 7 Sig® M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers. No 13 “Issued Weekly. Caiteraeinras pe ebay gh is Price 5 Cents. ‘ June 7, 1899. 379 Pearl Street, New York. $2.50 a Year. Vol. I. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘‘DEADWOOD DICK,” ‘ DOUBLE DAGGERS,” ETC, ETC. BUCKHORN BILL.

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443 Deadwood Dick, Jr.; 448 453 459 465 471 476 481 491 496 500 508 §22 529 584 539 544 549 554 561 567 572 578 584. 590 595 600 606 612 618 624 630 636 642 648 654. 660 666 672 678 » 684 690 695 700 EDWARD L. WHEELER'S DEADWOOD DICK, JR. NOVELS IN THE HALF-DIME LIBRARY. Crescent Sign. Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Price 5 Cents per Copy. ESTE LITO EL «ET EE EE or, The Crimson Jr's, Defiance. Jr.’s, Full Hand. Jr.’s, Big Round: Up. Jr.’s, Racket at Claim 10. Jr.’s, Corral. Jr.'s, Dog Detective. Jr., in Deadwood. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Compact. Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, 515 Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Inheritance. Ne Tom 7 Jr.'s, Diggings. Jr.’s, Deliverance. Jr.’s, Protege. Jr.’s, Three. Jr.'s, Danger Ducks. Jr.’s, Death Hunt. Jr., in Texas. Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidoeq. Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Jr, on His Mettle. Jr., in Gotham, Jr., in Boston. Jr., in Philadelphia. Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Chicago. Deadwood Dick, Jr., Afloat. Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Denver, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Decree. Jr., in Beelzebub’s Basin. Jr., at Coney Island. Jr.’s, Leadville Lay. Jr., in Detroit. Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Cincinnati. Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Nevada. Jr., in No Man’s Land. Deadwood Dick, Jr., After the Queer. Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Buffalo. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Chase Across the Continent. Deadwood Dick, Jr., xlers, Deadwood Dick, Among the Smug- Jr.’s, Insurance Case. Deadwood Dick, Jr., Back in the Mines. Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Durango. Jr.’s, Discovery. Jr.’s, Dazzle. Jr.’s, Dollars. Jr., at Danger Divide. Jr.’s, Drop. 704 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Jack-Pot. 710 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at San Francisco. 716 722 728 734. 740 747 752 758 764 770 776 782 787 792 797 802 807 812 816 822 828 834 840 845 852 858 863 870 876 882 891 898 904 910 916 928 934 940 946 951 957 965 971 Deadwood Dick, 977 980 992 998 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Big Play. 1005 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Branded. 1011 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dutch Pard. 1018 Deadwood Dick, Jr,’s, Big Four. For sale by all newsdealers or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, 5c. per copy, by the publish Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Diek, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, ers, M. J. IVERS & CO., 379 Pear. Street, New York Crry. Jr.’s, Still Hunt. Jr.’s, Dominoes. Jr.’s, Disguise. Jr.’s, Double Deal. Jr.’s, Death- Watch, Jr.’s, Doublet. Jr.’s, Death-Blow. Jr.’s, Desperate Strait. Jr.’s, Lone Hand. Jr.’s, Defeat, Jr.'s, Resurrection. Jr.’s, Dark Days. Jr., Defied. Jr.'s, Double Device. Jr.’s, Desperate Venture. Jr.’s, Diamond Dice. Jr.’s, Royal Flush. Jr.’s, Head-Off. Jr.’s, Rival. Jr.’s, Boom. Jr.’s, Scoop. Jr.’s, Proxy. Jr.’s, Clutch. Jr,’s, High Horse. Jr., at Devil’s Gulch, Jr.’s, Death-Hole Hustle, Jr.’s, Bombshell. Jr.. in Mexico, . Jrvs, Decoy Duck. Jv., in Siiver Pocket. Jr.'s, Dead-Sure Game. _ Jr.’s, Double Drive. Jr.’s, Trade-Mark. Jr., at Tip-Top. Jr.'s, Double-Decker. Jr., at Dollarville. Jr., at Flush Flats, Jr.’s, Shake-Up. Jr.’s, Double Drop. Jr.’s, Right Bower. Jr.’s, Ten-Strike. Jr.’s, Gold Dust. Jr.'s, Oath. Jr.’s, Death-Doom., Jr.’s, Best Card. Jr,, at Gold Dust.

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No. 13. Copyright 1878-1834, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as second class matter, Mur. 15, 180f. = = M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers ; Issued Weekly. (James Sullivan, Proprietor.) ‘ Price 5 Oenits. June 7, 1899. 3799 Pearl Street, New York. $2.50 a Year, BUCKHORN BILL; or, The Red Rifle Team. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR oF ‘‘DEADWOOD DICK,” “ DOUBLE DAGGERS,” ETC.. ™TC, Vol. I. et

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oe 4 £ oan, Buckhorn Bill; THE RED RIFLE TEAM. A Tale of the Dakota Moonshiners. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AvrHor oF ‘‘ DEADWOOD DICK,’’ ‘‘ DOUBLE DAGGERS,"’ “* BUBFALO BEN,”’ ‘BOB WOOLF,”’ ‘‘ WILD IVAN,” ““ DEATH-FACE,” ‘‘ THE PHANTOM MINER,” ‘OLD AVALANCHE,” ‘ JIM BLUDSOE, JR.,”” | ETC., ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. A TERRIBLE NIGHT’S WORK. “Go on, Chub!” spoke a clear ringing voice, which was that of one of two persons, who were crossing the moonlight’s glory upon a wild rolling expanse of prairie, not half a hundred miles north of old Fort Alexander, in Dakota. ‘‘Go on, you beast, or Pll wallop ye till ye can’t stand alone. Durnedest lazy hoss—wish the old folks would sell him.” i * Shall we reach home before long, Bill?’ queried a sweet girlish voice, that of the other rider, as she urged her horse up alongside that of the boy. “I hope you are not going wrong.” “Pooh! no,” replied the youth, with a laugh Of re- assurance; “‘ye ked take old Chub ’way down into Kansas, an’ no fear but what she’d find her way back to dad’s ranch.” These two night riders were respectively aged six- teen and fourteen—the first a boy the other a girl. Evidently they were brother and sister, The boy was well-developed, with a form of strik- ing grace and outline, each muscle and nerve large and hard; life from infancy on the frontier had im- parted to him God’s greatest gitts, strength, health, anda promising OP eeagae to fine manhood. : His face was ruddy and smooth, his eyes brown god sparkling, and his hair short and of a dark hue. e was attired in buckskin trowsers, with a waist-coat of some coarse cloth belted around_him, and a slouch hat over his brown, short curls. Hewas armed with a handsome repeating rifle, this was all. No display of belt-arms made he; he was evidently eontent with his own uy, piece. His horse was a wiry little old beast of partymus- ti mgs blood a fast traveler when necessity demand- ed, but habitually lazy and stubborn. The youth’s companion was avery pretty little picture of girlish beauty and innocence. She was smaller than her companion, budding into fullness of form, with a sweet, shy face framed in a half- wreath of sunny, golden curls, and eyes of blue which at once bespoke the gentleness and purity of her young heatt. She was plainly attired in calico, and unarmed, and with her straw hat off, cand the breeze tossing her wealth of,hair about, she looked like a fairy as she galloped gracefully along, mounted upon a stanch, well-bottomed little Indian pony. ine two in countenance greatly resembled each other, They were the children of a ranchman named Burnham, who, with others, had started a colony about sixty-five miles above Alexander several years rior to our story. This colony had been immense- ly successful, for not only had it brought thrift and enterprise into an unsettled region, but had scatter- ed settlers for many miles around through an ex- *snsive tract of rich grazing country. Gradually -yilization had come in until Burnham’s colony was widely known, and Philip Burnham was a man of great popularity. SPE | Leaving his ranch under the charge of his wife A iit Buckhorn Bill, son, he had engaged in speculation on it was not uncommon for him to be ab- for weeks at a time. It was for the purpose of learssing his whereabouts that young Bill and his sister had made the long, terrible trip to Fort Alexander, and were now res turning toward home, and an anxious wife-mother, with no intelligence from the father, who had not been heard from sinee his departure, a month pre- vious, The news at Alexander was discouraging. He had not been seen there, “Tell ye what—guess the old man’s puckacheed to git rid of us, and we might as well crawl home, and let him shift upon his Own responserbilities,’ Bill had said, and they had started and got thus far on their journey. It was a beauteous night in the beginning of Au- gust, with a gentle breeze whispering through the tall, rus ling grass and the moon pouring down her whole voluminous gift of mellow r diance upon mother earth. Away, miles to the east, like a silver thread in the gold, ran the waters of Rubicon creek, in a zig-zag course; to the west a dark line delinea. ted the existence of a belt of timber; far to the north lay Burnhatn’s colony, and beyond that still the iron track of the Northern Pacific railroad, as it pointed toward the sising: sun. Overall hung a pe- culiar haze, rendering objects at a distance indis- tinet, despite the glorious effulgence of the moon. “do ‘long, Chub; ye ain’t got more nor a dozen miles to go, yet, afore yer nostrils will smell 0’ new- mown hay, an’ ye ken berry yer nose inter a fod- der-trough. As fer myself, I reckon I'd like ter make ther acquaintance uv a good squar’ meal, oo!"? “A dozen miles, yet, Bill? It ssems to me that I could never ride that distance, Iam so tired,” sighed the girl, as she gazed ahead over the rolling expanse of prairie sea, “ “You're tired, are yd))Maolin! Well, sis, cheer up an’ we'll soon git hum, in good shape. Reckon ima’am will be mighty tickled ter see us, ’spite the fact that we haven't any news from dad.” ‘*But, why couldn’t we sleep on the prairie, Bill, and then go on in the morning?” 7 “°Ca’se why, I don’t keer about hevin’ ther buz- zards roost onto my carcass. ‘Buzzards aire un- common lean and-hun, and youn, lands, A sent from home “Why, Bi ‘Dunno why, sis, but ’tain’t safé. Heerd an’ old chap sayin’, up at Squatterville, thet there’s mighty strange things a-goin’ on in thes kentry around us, what would puzzle a Methodist preécher. Guess he know'd sum more’n he told; too—leastways, et ap- peared so ter me. An’I’ve picked up a few p’ints alon back, Me th interes' os hee “Do you thin ere’s going to be trouble with the Sioux, Bill?” Dae : “No, not unless these devils o’ white cusses gets em roused. Don’t reckon they.dare do much 0 nigh ther fort, though old Red Nose is frll as mean a skunk ‘as old Settin’ Bull. No; ‘tain’t Injuns— thar ain’t a-goin’ ter be much of an open comm»- tion; ae there’s deviltry a-goin’ on, every day, w'at we don’t know about.’ “What, Bill?” Maolin asked. ~ But the youth did not reply. His head was drep- ped upon his breast, and his whole attention was en- grossed in some perplexing thouzht. 2 Thus fey. rg along through tft haze of the — ight, the 4 beautiful ni thud! thud! of the horses’ feet beating a strange tattoo upon the turf. i All nature seemed lulled into asweet, smiling slum- ber, its breath only coming in faint little puffs; not the chirp of an insect or the note of a bird was heard; a strange, drowsing silence pervaded earth and atmosphere, such as you no doubt have often. ~ obseryed on a quiet Sabbath day in the country— h

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Buckhorn Bill. 3 ree Dae the sweetly peaceful country, where on the Lord's bristle with wrath. Day, rest and peace are for all, so unlike what you | sed so, to-night, tho find in our big cities, with their restless turmoil. Steadily the two pe scot kept on; as if catch- ing a far-away scent of their home pastures, the well-worn steeds now needed no urging, but pushed ahead with a manifest eagerness, - By and by they dashed over the crest of a prairie billow, and down into a little valley or seam, with which the face of nature was furrowed over and over again. Heedléssly they rode down into the little valley; then there came an awakening. ‘Without warning their horses were seized by the bits and thrown back on their haunches, and a dozen pairs of stout hands gave assistance in pulling the two astonished travelers from their saddle. The hate os seemed to glow down with double intensity, just then, and Little Bill was able to sur- yey his captors, while they were occupied in binding his hands and feet. There were at least twenty-five of them, all burly, muscular fellows, with long beards and masks cov- one their faces from the tip of the nose to the root of the hair, giving to them a weird aspect. They were dressed in ee buckskin of a crimson hue, and wore plumed slouch hats. The leader was a tall, pa man, but closely dis- guised, so that no one having seen him before in another guise would have been able to recognize him now. Yet something made Little Bill believe that he had seen him before—where or when, he had not the slightest idea. The two captives’ hands were bound, and then they were replaced and bound upon their horses. A consultation was then held, after which the leader advanced, surveying the youth savagely, through the eye: holes in the mask. i “You're Phil Burnham’s son, ain’t ye?’ was the hoarse, growling demand, and the speaker stopped a few paces off. 3 “Reckon I am,” Little Bill replied, without flinch- . ing. “- What difference does it make to you?” A great deal, you young cuss,” was the reply; then the man turned to his followers: ; “Mount, boys, and let’s be off. The captain will be b'ilin’ ef we don’t hurry up wi’ the brats.” _ A’general mount was accordingly made, and the cavalcade set off in a direction slightly nor’ westerly to the course Bill had been following. First, however, precaution had been taken to gag and blindfold the captives, and thus they were neither able to see or speak, during what seemed an interminable ride. When they were taken from the horses at last, and their eyes uncovered, they found themselves among the same crowd of masked ans, only deep down in the wood-tangled depths of a dark ravine, which Bill never remembered having seen, pettorchead was his acquaintance with the surrounding eountry. The moon was sinking westward with diminished eee of light, which showed the observant youth hat morning was not far off. Very little of the moonlight penetrated to the gulch bottom through the overhanging tree-tops, so that the captors ha lighted a fire, and into the re- flection of this the two prisonerswere led. A man stood in the light of this fire, whom Bill at once concluded was the captain of the gang. And he was not wrong in his supposition, as was plain, when the man hi tee He was ashort, thick-set person, attired in buck- skin, and masked like his companions. Little more could be said of his Barceranee, on account of his face being Agee! concealed. He advanced closer and peered searchingly down into Little Bill’s face, with_eyes that seemed on fire. Are you sure you’re Phil Burnham’s boy?” he questioned, doubtingly. “Yes, Lam,” was the reply of Bill, ashe began to — “That's the second time I've ‘h tain’t none o’ yer bizness whose sonIam. I shine all ther same.” “None of your sass, boy; this is no time for parley. I'll tell you why we have brought you here, and you can judge by our looks if we ate men to be trifled with. We are what is khown as the Press- Gang. Maybe you have heard of us—maybe you have not. We press men into the service of the Government, to fight down the Indians. To desert means death,” ” “ Git out!” Little Bill exclaimed, conan - as the other pees a moment, seeming’ y to no! the effect of his words. ‘Don’t try to stuff that kind of taffy dewn me. J know better. Shall I fotygraff ye? Yes, ferI kin do it, true ter nature. You're a gang o’ ruffians, known as the Press- Gang, and a set of human fiends. You pounce upon men and force them to swear a horrible oath of alliance to your band, or you kill them, Tom Ternerl refused, and he was found dead Your victims are made to work, somewhere. Where- ever your den is, but what they work at, the Lord only knows. Guess you didn’t know this much of vour secret had leaked out, did you? Didn't know ‘olks are beginnin’ ter keep a sharp eye? Yes, I've heerd o’ ther Press-Gang, an’ so’ve others. no one don’t allow that a man o’ yer clan fights ag’in’ ther red devils.” : The captain ‘listened to the boy’s speech, atten- bar but with a dark scowl in under his mask. * You are laboring under a delusion,” he returned with a turnon the heel. ‘“ But, you cannot fool us. You know what we want of you, ldare say. Your father, Phil Burnham, bas been one of us. for over a year, and we trusted him, But now we find that he has deserted and betrayed us. For a month we have been searching for bim, but without avail. We have seen_you £ to Fort Alexander—you must tell us where Phil Burnham is hiding, that we ma find him and put him to death. Speak! where,is he ‘I do not know!” Bill replied, firmly. “‘ Ws went to Fort Alexander to find if he was there. He has eal home for a month. My sister will tell you at. “Bah! I'd b'lieve you, sooner than her. Women are all liars from infancy, up. We know your dad has not been home, for a watch has been kept upon your cabin, and only last night we paid your mother a visit and hung her up to a convenient limb, because she refused to divulge the secret. We will know the whereabouts of the traitor, so you had better shell out.” “JT don’t-’know where my fatheris; neither ae poor mother!” dre Fill, tears ger in eyes, as he thought of his dear, kind mother, and the horrible knowledge that these human wolves had murdered her. Maolin sobbed and wept piter ously. “Don't tell me that, ycu young whelp!” the ca tain of the Press-Gang cried, fiercely. ‘ You do know—you communicated to him when at Fort Alexander, Don't deny it; ‘tis useless. Youshall ~ tell us, or we will first kill your squalling sister, and then yourself.”’ : “Don’t tell, Bill, if you know!” cried Maelin, bravely, a heroic light shining in her eyes. “We ean but die.” ' “Neither will I tell em!” Bill satd, grimly, ‘fer we don’t know nothin’ to tell. Kill me, you durned shysters, if ye’re bloodthirsty, but Jet Maolin elone.” “No, she shall die first!” cried Captain Coffin, _ savagely. ‘I give you five seconds to tell, One!” — ‘And the ruffian held a cocked revolver at Maolin’s head. “ Thro |? will you tell?” “T don’t know!” faintly replied Little Bill, trem- pm aa head to foot. '* My God, Maolin, whatcan ‘0? “Nothing, Bill—only avenge me!’ the brave+ hearted girl replied, with a wonderful calmness, be+ yond her years. “ You can tell them nothing,” 7 ‘

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q “* Pour! cried the ruffian; “ quick, boy, ‘tis your sast chance to save your sister’s life,”’ - “Would to God I could, but I do not know dad’s hiding-place!’’ the boy replied in a hoarse voice. “Hive!” There was the sharp report, and poor Maolin sunk back lifeless in the arms of her guards. But the scene was not yet ended. With a wild, vinging yell, a horseman dashed straight down tarough the gorge where the ruffians were standing. Bill was torn from the grasp of his guards, and in a moment more the horseman and his rescued prize were gone out of sight, far down the ravine, CHAPTER II. TWO YEARS LATER—THE BUCKHORN, Two years! Suchis the lapse of time which oc- _ curs, ere we again renew acquaintance with the cha- -racters introduced in our first chapter. Two years that had brought changes in Northern Dakota. Emigration had fiooded in, here and there, to adorn and beautify, and although the territory was yet comparatively a wilderness. there were many pleasant scenes, where the colonists had locat- ed, and built homes that were by no means rude. In two years Burnham's colony had become wide- ly extended, with a gain of wealth and thrift every- where, and although ignored by the map-makers, was a tract of settled country of no mean import- ance. Upon a fertile and extensive prairie ocean the colony was situated, where timber and water were at hand, in quantities. It boasted of a thrifty trading-post, named Squat- terville, where commerce was carried on with the Indians, but of this more anon. All around the Post for miles rolled the grand majestic sea of emerald, with human habitations scattered here and there, and fertile ranches under tillage and growth. In mid-prairie, with the scorching rays of the August sun pouring down upon his head and shoul- ders, crouched a youth of manly face and figure— crouching Jow in the prairie grass, which waved and rustled noisily in the breezs that blew aridly down from the north. He was, pertiaps, eighteen years of age, with a well-developed figure, of medium hight, in which were both grace and physical strength, and a face, which, though sunburned from long exposure to the sun, was good-looking. We ars not writing a mess of fiction, where every character of worth is to be made handsome as an Adonis; we choose rather from reality, and delineate our characters as they are in life, nf were at the period of which we write, which was not long ago. It was a plain, regular and classic face, which a sculptor might love to model after. Allthe features were faultless and well-rounded; the mouth firm and habitually set in a resolute expression; tho forehead high from the heavy eyebrows to the roots of the curling brown hair. The eyes were brown, and briiliant—at times as sharp as those of a lynx, who can see further than any animal of the quadru- ped kind. No hair, except a very slight mustache, grew upon his face; a glance only was required to tell that he was older in wisdom of the world than in years. 5p His dress was buckskin from his moccasins t> his hunting-shirt, all fancifully fringed with Todian bead-work; a slouch hat for his curls lay by his side | onthe grass, plumed with a drooping eagle’s fea- _ ther, and pinned up on one side with a pin with a device like a red hand, carved out of bone. _ His arms consisted of belt-weapons of fine pattern - and finish, while his rifle was one of Evans’s best, and a repeater at that. Attached to his belt was a - horn, from the head of a young deer, hollow and “gold-mounted at one end, This was the buckhorn from which the hero of - our narrative drew hisname. It was a horn of pure _ tenor tone, a single blast from which could be heard for miles over mountain or prairie, Buckhorn Bill, Buckhorn Bill! I cannot make mysclf believe that T am taking for my hero that noble youth, who but - ‘a few months ago e me adieu as he returned westward ho! to the land of his birth, But it is of him, whose experienc? has been more eventful, perhaps, than that of half the young men on the border, that I write. The prairie around him, as he crouched below the grass-tops, rolled off in undulating waves as far as eye could reach, dotted here and there witha motte of timber, or silvered with the sinuosity of a winding streamlet, 5 A few buffalo grazed peacefully away to the north- west, and a herd of antelopes were just visible on the cap of a distant billow; but nature drowsed on, as if naught but eternal rest and harmony were hers, It was not the buffalo, neither was it the deer, which Buckhorn Bill was watching, and which had caused him to drop into the grass, There was little to be feared from thom, and the young rover evi- dently directed but little thought or attention upon ~ them. Tis eyes and whole mind were concentrated elsewhere. s From where he crouched, the land billowed sharp- ly off on the western side into a prairie ravine or valley of considerable depth but very narrow, which was one of those furrows inthe face of nature we so often and unexpectedly chance upon in the western prairies. It ran for some miles in either direction, and you would not have suspected its existence un- til you stumbled, as it were, right into it, Riding leisurely through its bottom in a westerly direction. were two hors2men, both of them Indians, and of the Sioux nation, as was apparent to the young watcher at a glance, They wore war-paint upon their faces, and it was evident that they were out on a raid after horses or food. “Tt is Red Nose and Long Death!’ muttered Bill, a dark scowl coming over his face, at some bitter recollection, “Where can they be going, alone and unaccom- panied by their warriors? kon there’s sum devil- try afoot, or else I’ve lost my reckoning. They’re oe lowing this hidden ravine, and avoiding the prai- rie While he spoke, the two chiefs reined in their horses, and gazed directly up toward where he was crouching. : He quickly dropped flat, but was too late. They had caught a glimpse of the swaying grass, and an- nounced their discovery by acouple of inquiring grunts. Lying flat, Buckhorn Bill carefully laid his rifle aside, and drew his revolvers, while he waited the issue. He had no doubt but that the savages would come up to investigate, and he was prepared to do the country a favor by dropping the red butchers, one by one, But to his great surprise, they came not. This caused himto make a careful reconnoissance, and he made the discovery that they were gone! Whither or how, he knew not. On horsebac! surely, for their horses were gone, but he had not heard them move. vetea * “ Well, this is another link in the chain of mystery, which I am devoting my life to break and unravel!” the youth mutfered, sitting upritht, and rubbing the — sweat from his face, with his hand, ‘Phew! the smiles of that sun up yonder are getting rather too warm for this business, and I opine I'd better strike for shade, Don’t suppose there’s any enemies around,” To satisfy himself on this subject, before exposing himself, he raised his slouch hat a little way above the top of the grass on the muzzle of his rifle. Ping! there was a sharn, spiteful re pals, ae a bullet.cut away the handsome a knife. “Too bad!” Bill muttered, picking up'the feather, : and repinning if to his hat. ‘‘’Ruther they'd ’a’ punched a hole in my hat, ca’se how Jessie Latimer give it to me to remember her by. Guess according part ‘ofie}! aaa plume like ©

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ee ee Buckhorn Bill, 3 BS _- to that shot, thet it ain’t healthy for one to show one’s self,” : For several minutes Buckhorn Bill sat, and listen- ed. He could hear no one approaching: silence brooded over the great plains, “-Spect that wasn’t an Injun, nohow, for ‘twar too straight a shot fer one o’ ther red rascallions, \ ould just like to know what kind of an indervidual hed ther cheek ter spit death at me. Can it be that any of the accursed Press-Gang of Captain Coffin are laying ferme? Ha! the devils ought to know by this time that it is death to fool around me/ I've perforated atleast a dozen of ’em through ther top story, and still Bill Burnham’s score ain’t full—a score ag’in’ ’°em what'll last as long as this Captain Ccffin and his Press-Gang exists. 3 ‘* Maybe it és ther fools, ag’in, thinkin’ they've got me as snug as a bug ina rug.” The young Scourge laughed in his grim, peculiar way, as he restored his revolvers to his belt, and ti Be up his handsome rifle. For the past two years, since he had lost his be- loved mother and sister by these border outlaws, ‘Bil Burnham had known no permanent home ex- cept the forest and prairie; had lived for nothing except vengeance upon his enemies—the destroyers of his once happy home. For the Burnham ranch he had oe into other hands, well knowing that his wild spirit would never bear confinement to_stock- raising or agricultural pursuits. He was well known to Captain Coffin and his gang, having proven him- self a remorseless foe to them, Time and again had they trapped after him, and planned for his eapture, but he had ever witb him the wit and power to escape, That it was the Press-Gang who were now besieg- ing him. he was not positive, yet he had but little doubt cf it, for the reason that he had cause to be- lieve them in the vicinity. It was to learn the truth of report that he had ridden down from Squat- terville. ‘ain't Red Nose nor Long Death,”’ he muttered, . “and tharfore it’s the Press-Gang. Wonder if—” : e did not finish the sentence. Z rustling in the grass but.a little ways off, arrest- ed his attention, and he again bent forward in a arouching attitude, listening intently. Evidently some one was crawling through the grass, which all over the prairie, had grown belt high, and was as dry as powder. ho it was Buck- horn was unable to tell, but he held himself in readi- ness to greet either friend or foe, for some intuition seemed to tell him that this was no foe approaching, with so much noise. “Dern it!’ he heard a voice mutter at last; “ef thar ain’t ernuther uv them confounded spiders! Thet makes six hundred, even, thet I’ve found within ther last hour. Ther grass aire fuil on em; Jikewise full 6’ human spiders. Reckon this old . sitge o’ Paris checked _one o’ them or galoots’ ; baggage fer Saltriver. Wonder who’twar the pesky loafers popped at over in this direction? Shouldn‘t be surprised ef thar’s ernuther hen-pecked parson like myself, abroad on these prairies. Oh, Lordy, why did I ever run away from my dad and mam, an’ cum out ter missionize ter ther’ hea- then? Reckon my mission’s contained more lead 7 than religyun an’ l’arnin’ ’—with an audible chuckle. Teh “Don’t suppose I’ve converted many Injun souls, but I’ve bin mitey handy in makin’ items ferobituary ; editors, Gol dangnation! ef thar aim t her ' spider! Never see’d *em so thick, ex y ot married ter old Jemima Spiltover, an’ she’ ‘da hull table-load o’ kitchen utensils—mostly spiders— at my pericranium. Hello!" oat The speaker had crept along so rapidly in concert motion with his tongue, that before he was aware of ithe had broucht his countenance in*contact with _ the pistols of Buckhorn Bill, : Ree ia allo 1” the eats Scourge echoed, also evident- _ fy surprised. ** Boa: AE ee ld Elephant, as sure's I’m a livin’ “Yes, thet’s ther identical figurative deakription uv yer ’umble servant, ye galoot,” returned the other. ‘I thort et war a ee Ce **So did I,’ replied Bill, with a laugh. ‘ Didn't expect to find you down®in these ’ere parts. no more’n I’d_ have expected old Sittin’ Bull. What you after, Elephant?” ~‘“ After? Waal, I’m originally in these parts as a missionary, to save Injun souls, an’ civilize the hea- then, but, at pfesent my leisure moments are devo- ted ter ther inquisitive business,” X Old Elephant outwardly was a curiosity even on the border. He was of about the average hight of men, but very fat. Every part of his body was obese. His face reminded one of the countenance of}a full: — from appearances, he must have — moon, Judging , weighed in the neighborhood of two bundred and seventy-five pounds. Yet, wonderful to relate, he was as nimble of foot and dextrous of movement as a man who did not weigh half that amount. All along the Dakota frontier he was widely known as a scout and Indian-fighter of note; he had dis- tinguished himself as a brave and’ intrepid scout in — EY. battles, and was universally admired and re- spected by all frontiersmen. His smooth, bs natured, fat face*was indicative. of his oon eart and mild temperament; yet he was a deadly enemy to se red-man and their worse brethren, the white outlaws. With Buckhorn Bill he was an especial favorite, for the Boy Scourge had found him much knowledge and good-judgment, and a willing, friend in an hour of need. <And the fat scout evi- dently was equally an admirer of the youth whcése life was one for vengeance. 7 ‘*Yas,”’ he continued, a few moments subsequent to his last remark. ‘‘!’m follerin’ ther trail 0’ in- qguisitiveness. Or,.in other words, tryin’ ter find out w’at’s ter be found outconcernin’ Captain Coffin an’ his Sipe * Just what I’ve bin tryin’ ter Go myself, and fail- ed,” said Bill. A “ Waal, thet ain’t much fer be wondered at, when et war only by accident thet I found out about it. A. feiler mig’ t have searched a lifetime without findin’ out.’ “Then you've a clew?” “You bet yer salvation Ihave! I know what this Press-Gang is fer, an’ what becomes o’ ther men pieces into service, I know what aire all the mys- erious lights thet aire seen on dark nights on the rairie, an’ everything élse, except the den of these “devils,” “ And what is the secret, Elephant?’ “Listen and I'll tell ye These Press Grang-ites belong to a great distilling organization, which long has been a seeret to the Government, which pro- duces illicit whisky, and smuggles it up to the North- ern Pacific, from whence it is forwarded eastward, These men are known as Moonshiners, and have their quarters somewhere within or near the scope of Burnham's colony.” be CHAPTER III. SQUATTERVILLE—A FLOWER FAIRY IN TROUBLE, SQuATTERVILLE, the only post of Burnham’s colony, . and indeed the nearest collection of habitations known by any name, short of old Fort Alexander, was rather a pretty place, despite the fact that it was the home, principally, of squatters, who would not pay renis nor do unnecessary work. They had concentrated here, as if by unanimous consen probably thought their trespassing, as long as the pS was so sparsely settled, of little or no ac- eount, ase ; f ‘The enterprise of a steam sawmill had been start-_ ed, for timber was plenty, and thereby a means of ~ easy building had been provided; consequently jade. had Become 6 village ofa ecore ck aw ae weer es Roe Re ae ee 2 a Moe a pee -S sed of | built their little frame shanties, and the Government

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6 aside from & ene of stores, a block-house, and the aforesaid sawmill. Ajl around the Post. as it was more frequently called, were many thrifty ranches and fine farm- houses, for riches were there scattered among the colonists, and they took pride in adorning and beautifying their homes. But with these we may have little to do. : Under the shadow, almost, of the great steam saw- mill, whose busy hum could be heard night and day, was built @. modern two-story cottage, of much more pretentious finish than its neighbors. It stood upon the bank of the darkly-flowing little river, down which logs were floated from the nor’western limber region; and before it stretched a pretty lawn shaded with trees and ornamented by shrubs and be 1s of blooming, fragrant flowers. A placid-faced, matronly-looking little woman sat in the front doorway of this charming little home one hot August day—the same one, by the way, on which Buckhorn Bill and his fat friend, Old Elephant, had met upon the prairie. She was sewing, and though seemingly preoccupied, her eyes occasion- ally gazed off toward a dark stretch of timber, a mile or so beyond the river, with an expressioa of anxiety and expectancy upon her face. She was but a plain, common-looking woman, of say forty years, yet something abo2t her was interesting, Something that was good, pure, and of the kindliest. Busily the deft fingers plied the needle, as the hot day wore toward a close. Evidently the little matron was watching for some one’s coming, and as the night drew on, and a great mass of thunder- clouds rolled upin giant piles in the western heavens, she manifested great uneasiness. * Why don’t Pearl com>?” she asked herself, over and over again, ‘ She well knows she ought not to stay so long—and the storm coming on, too. If Bill should come—” - She did not finish the sentence, but compressed her lips with rather forbidding grimness, as there was 2 wild, girlish hurrah, and then a horse and rider c1me splashing through the river, amid a storm of spray, and, a moment later, the Pearl in question stood before her elder companion, wet from top to toe, and a very fairy queen of flowers and ferns, It was a graceful, well-chiseled form, that of this gitl, as was revealed by the clinging, water-soaked garments, that sat closely to her shape; it was a par sweet face that peeped from beneath the rim of thé broadbrim straw hat, which was heavy with its loads of flower-wreaths—a pretty face, deli- cately carved, and tinged both with the beauty of robust health and the merciless kisses of the sun: a face one could worsh'p for its purity alone, if not forits rozuish sweetness. The eyes and eyebrows of brown and the-hair of chestnut shade harmonized well with the face; the lips of cherry’s ripest hue, the haughty little chin—all combined to make up the pretty Pearl of the Prairies. The grave look on the face of the woman in the ‘doorway, could but vanish before the roguish smile of the girl—the sixteen year old woman who was the girl, and Be le of the Squattervillians, ““ Woll, Pearl!’ the tones were not angry,sbut chid- ing—‘ have you come at last?” “Yes, Aunty, dear; don’t you see?” and the little white under the ebin. “Oh! I’ve had just the most glorious ride you can imagine—and such hosts of flowers as I found; and I saw an Indian, too, Aunty, making for me, and. you b»t Iskedaddled! Poor Pet,” with a wry glance at the sorry-looking chub of an Indian pony, who had curled down upon the edge of the lawn—‘I guess he won't want another race for a week.” “You are a naughty girl to stay away so long, and give me such uneasiness, Pearl. It is not safe ‘ou see I have—don’t and patted ** Aunty ”’ _ for you to go alone upon the prairies, and in the woods— ® Pooht Aunt with a curtain. ed ! Please don’t annoy your darling lecture, You know I and Chub can Aer = rn ee NS | la is i Te Nad Buckhorn Bill, et ee show our heels to any danger. There, now, that’s a dear, so don’t say any more, but hunt Mother Hub- bard’s dog a bone, while I go put Chub away, for when I come back I have something of importance to say;’’ and just here the sweet face became pale and sober, as the girl walked away. She had her own way in all pg at Prescott cottage, had this little Queen of the Wilderness; her childish imperi- ousness was perhaps too often humored, because they all knew that Pearl was a pet, and good and e. And so Aunty Prescott rose and laid aside<her “work; hur-ied into the cosy little back k'tchen, and laid the spread, and had a plain but substantial re- past awaiting ere my queen returned. She came at last, and dropped wearily into a chair, with a sigh as if the world and the world’s cares were too great for her to combat with. . “You have been overdoing, and are all tired out, child!” said Mrs. Prescott, as she bustled about. “Does your head ache?—shall I put a wet cloth around it, deary?’’—and maternal solicitude was in the bearing of this good woman. Pearl was not her child, but a child of her own flesh could not have filled Pearl’s place in her love. “No! no! Aunty, you can do nothing in that line, for Iam not tired nor does my head ache. Ihave Band been worrying.” “ Worrying! Land of goodness! you worrying, pet?” the good woman exclaimed, in astonishment. ‘What is the matter, pray ?--what ever causes you to worry, with your gay, gladsome spirit.” “Oh! the gay can have trouble as well as the sober, Aunty, but.they sometimes hide their afflie. tion under a deceptive mask of smiles. The rich, the poor, the wicked and the righteous all must ex- perience trouble and worry.” ; “Ah! yes, child, your words are only too true. None can escape the scavenger of time—trouble. But pl in the world has put you into such a seri- ous fit?” “On! Aunty, I have discovered that I am in no way related to you—that Bill Burdelle is not my father—that I am _ merely a trespasser upon your hospitality. I need not tell you how I found it out— it is enough that it is true. Oh! Aunty, what secret is there about my birth and life, that you have kept hidden from me?” -. She had risen to her feet, and stood proudly erect, her eyes shining, her lips parted, her face ‘suffused with a strange, pained flush. Mrs, Prescott had also become flushed, and shrunk away beneath the young girl’s accusing gaze, tremb- ling in every limb. *Pearl! Pearl!” she said, deprecatingly, as_the fairy was about to continue—‘* don’t! don’t/ You know not what you are saying. Who has been stuft- ing your brain with such utter nonsense?” * “It isn’t nonsense, Aunty—for I shall still call you so—it isn’t nonsense, and you know it, and I know it, and God knowsit. Acknowledge the truth—you are not my aunt, are you?” Mrs. P escott hesitated, compressing her lips tight- ly. To acknowledge this was like running a knife through her sensitive, motherly heart. SS No, Lam not,” she articulated, finally, in a faint ne, “T knew it—nor any relation of mine?’ Pearl pur- sue, eagerly. : U ‘Oh! child, don’t ask me.” Ves, Ye uu most tell.me the truth.” “Oh! “this is torture. No, Pearl, I am inno way related to you, except as a companion.” “Which makes no difference, aunty dear, for I shall love y vu all the same,” and the girl threw her arms impulsively around the elder woman’s neck, lovingly. ‘‘I only wanted to know the truth, and you cannot blame me. [ am well satisfied without uestioning you, that Bill Burdelle is not my father. very instinct in my nature rebels against him Bee Sop and besides, I have o-her grounds on which base my knowledge. But, for you, dear Aunty, bags Rete: hehe ~ : A a — a fon = x

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¥ Buckhorn Bill. ? would to-night bid this place good-by, forever, and go out into the world, where I could make a name for myself. You know-the names of my father and mother, Aunty, and where they live, do you not? Oh! tell me, truthfully.” Fai “No, as God is EM judge, T do not, child. I know nothing of them—whether they are alive or dead.” “Does Bill Burdelle?” j ; 2 “ Probably; but, if so, he has never communicat d such intelligence tome. He is fierce, vindictive, as you know, and I have never dared to pry into his affairs.” You certainly must know something about me?” ‘‘No—nothing. I was paid to come to Burdelle’s eabin, when you were but a child, to care for and assume guardianship over you. I knew you were not Burdelle’s child, for to my knowledge he had never been married. Besides, a glance told me that you were no child of his.” Poor Pear! listened with her face pillowed on her arm which rested over the back of the chair; listen- ed with tears dropping from her pretty eyes, for this was an awful realization to her bright young “spirit, that she was nobody’s child. She had ever been in a meacure a little proud, even to think that Bill Burdelle was her father, for, though rough and brutal by nature, he was a popu- Jar and influential man throughout the colon , where he had dealings with whites and reds. e wasa trader by occupation, exchanging guns, ammuni- tion, provisions, clothing and whisky for furs and Indian work; it was a circulated joke in Squatter- ville, that for every gallon of whisky he sold, he drank two himself. He was-a man of contradictory traits of character; villainous and unscrupulous, in many things; Honest, upright and fair in others; a ~ man whose career had made him equally feared and pee is coming home to the cottage was always dreaded, for he never failed to be more or less in- toxicated, and if everything was not to suit him, a terrible storm ensued. _ Pear] in these times, was the only one who could quiet him; a few words from her lips had the effect to subdue his passion and make him ashamed of himself. - ‘ “ You will not go away, Pearl?’ Mrs. Prescott said, tenderly. *‘‘ Your home here is pleasant, generally, and you know you have many friends.” “T know, Aunty, but it will not be long ere gossip willcall me a nobody; I will be pointed out as a thing of doubtful origin. Then, I should want to die, If I were to go elsewhere, I would try to drown out the past as best I could,” 4 “Butsee how many friends would miss you! Then there is one I think would miss you more than all the rest.”’ ‘“You mean Buckhorn Bill?” ‘Yes, He isa fine ycung fellow.” ° ‘Prue, Bill is good—and nice; but really, aunty, it ~ never quite seemed to me that we should ever be any nearer to each other than friends. I don’t think . that Buekhdrn Bill will ever marry, at least, not until he has completed what he calls his score of vengeance. And that will be a long time, for it will not be an easy task for him to battle off the myste- ‘rious Captain Coffin and his men.” oT Se bap gd he never spoken to you of love or hinted at such a thing?” c ‘No! of course not. The idea of two babies like us talking of love and marriage! Of course I like Pill—all the girls do—and Bill likes me; so if he pops the question to me, very likely I shall pop back!” and with a merry laugh. and seemingly forgetful of her recent trouble, Pearl ran away up-stairs to ar- range her disordered dress and brush" her hair, pre- _paratory to tea. While Aunt Prescott inwardly thanke God that the trouble had taken no deeper root in Pearl's young heart. — - She came down, later, looking-so fresh and Sweet in her summer lawn attire, that Aunty could but half smother her with kisses, © tem ** You are looking so lovely, child, and I am glad of it, for there comes your fath—I mean Bill Bur- delle, accompanied by a yo gentleman.” “Yes, and do you know who that young gentle- man is, Aunty?” replied Pearl, her lip curling with contempt. s “No; I do not think I have ever seen him, my lear.”’ “Well, I have then, and seen all I want to of him, too, It’s that impudent loafer whom they call Royal Ralph, and the same one who but a week ago in- sulted me at the party in the block-house. He hangs around the'vill and is a declared nuisance. . What ever is causing Bil) Burdelle to bring \him here, I do not know. I for one will not see him, for 1 shall go to a. room and not come down till he goes awey.” “Yes, child, you had better go,” said Mrs. Pres- cott, anxious! ; ‘‘for Bill is ‘ ‘all? again tonight, and I like not the looks of his companion. He has a general sneakish look, and ‘ villain’ is written on his evil face. I have a foreboding of something wrong which is to happen.” CHAPTER Iv.’ THE RED RIFLE TEAM—THE MYSTERIOUS BLACK HAND. Nieutr’s shadows were creeping over the ae with rapid strides. Along the heavens rolled great masses of sullen black clouds, and the mutterings of thunder became louder and hoarser. Occas’onally a tiny zigzag streak would lighten the gathering gloom; then the wind would sweep along with a strong puff. All the probabilities of a stormy night were upon the face of the sky, yet the rain for some time failed to come, except in occasional huge drops. Apparently, judging by his facial expression, this was not to the satisfaction of a lone horseman, who was pushing his way over the Lr mounted upon a handsome animal, which had the appearance of being nearly done for, as it had but little ambition left, and was dripping with sweat. The rider in question was a man of some for years, very stout of build and attired in the ric garb of a citizen of the more Eastern States, despite the fact that*he was a Westerner. Everything about bis eke oP from his patent-leather boots to his massive gold chain, diamond shirt-pin, and ~ glossy silk hat, betokene@ a man who was wealti A and not used to manual labor. As he is to play a@ part in our life-drama, we may as well introduce him as Judge Fowler, managing agent for the lands which were included in what was known as Burnham’s colony. A word of explana- tion may not be amiss. Philip Burnham had taken _up the land individu- ally from the Government, and from distant States had brought colonists to purchase and settle a por- tion of it. The tract being immense, a large share of it yet remained unsettled. Therefore Burnham ° had appointed this Judge Fowler, a man of some wealth and liberal education, as assistant in helping him dispose of the lands. Upon the. strange disap- arance of Burnham, two years before, Fowler had ound himself placed wholly in control of the prop- erty—as manager for the only heir, who was our Buckhorn Bill. He had built him a home and land- office adjacent to the Burnham farm -house (which was a matter of three miles from Squatterville, and Teased out to a family of Ohioans), and here carried on the business and lived the life of a bachelor. He was seldom visited by the young heir of all the prop- erty and so had things pretty much to his own King. * . He was not a handsome man, for his form was rather too stout, and his smoothly-shaven face too fat. Yet he was quite popular, and often was con- sulted eg law matters, as he possessed a smattering of Blackstone, and other legal authori- es. hee What brought him out so far from his residence, with a stormy night staring him in the face, is forus to find out as we progress.

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a 8 : : : Buckhorn Bill, He evidently was not in the best of humor, for he goaded his jaded animal on mercilessly, while he occasionally swore roundly as he peered around him into the quickening gloom. 2 “The devil take the fellows, and the storm, too!” he growled, as he drew rein upon a loftier billow than he had yet attained. ‘‘IfI get soaked by this rain, I’ll lick a certain rascal until he can’t sit a sad- dle, . I don’t see where on earth the camp can ¥ He blew his nose, vigorously, and was about to start on again, when a low, peculiar laugh arrested his movements. : ‘Hello! who the deuce was that I heard laugh- ing?’’ he exclaimed, looking sharply around, with a start. ‘* Hello there—who are you?” There came no answer eee the dismal moan of the wind over the prairie. e wind was blowing stronger, too, and the thunder was louder in its oa mutterings, The storm would soon burst orth, **Confound it, lam getting as nervous as an old eat, and imagine I hear things when I don’t. Go along, you beast, and we'll try and find some place to shelter ourselves.”” The horse struck into a feeble trot, and they de- scended the swell to the more level prairie. Sudden- ly the animal shied, and nearly dumped the Judge out. of the saddle; but he saw the cause of the affright, and saved himself. - A blood-red rocket had shot up into the gloom of the night, and after describing a graceful curve, de- scended slowly, and burst into a shower of ten red stars, which did not die out until they reached the grass. The rocket had ascended to the west of the night- rider, and in this direction he turned his horse. - “Pm on the right course, at least, thank good- ness!” he muttered, ‘‘but that cameup a couple of miles off, I should judge. Come! Come! go on, Racer, and we'll soon get there.” As if deriving some encouragement from the words, the tired animal sped along as fast as its wasted strength would permit, while the judge kept his eyes riveted upon the gloom ahead, for ere Me he hoped to espy a camp-fire light to guide im. ri 5 The rain continued to fall in occasional big drops; it acted as if it were holding off for: the traveler- to reach his destination, : Sooner than he expected he saw a fire-light gleam- ing down before him, in the depths of fe aie? valley, «and ere many minutes he was challenged by a picket guard. : “Hello! halt! Who comes there?” shouted a sten- torian voice, followed by the click! click of a gun- lock, A “Oh?! it’s all right—it’s I—Judge Fowler, of squat- terville,” was the assurance, and the horseman con- tinued to ride forward, “Halt!” the guard bellowed. “If you value your life, you'll holdup, till you are bidden advance.” “ Halt itis, then, you cussed fool,” announced the judge, irreverently, ‘‘I don’t see what you need be so durned ’fraid about, when it’s only one man.” “Our motto is, ‘It’s allus safer to be on the sure side!’ was the response. Then there was a painful silence of several mo- ments, during which the thundergrowled more omin- ously and the drops pattered down faster. “Curse the rain! curse the sentinel!’ grumbled the judge. “If this water ruins my hat, Pll thrash thunder out of him—T will, stire’s my name is—” “Come ahead, old bu’stover,”” here yelled the voice of the guard! ‘‘ Ride straight through the willows, ae you'll find the captain and the rest of the boys, a : Fowler accordingly rode through the willows as directed, and arrived in ae in safety. There was-a camp-fire blazing brightly, around which were gathered nine men, either sitting on logs, or reclining or smoking their pipes. For the most part they were young men, the oldest not ex- ceeding thirty-five, while the leader, who was evi- dently the youngest, was about twenty-three, Ho was a fine-looking young fellow, with afrank, honest face, dark eyes, and brown hair and mustache. He, as were his campanions likewise, was Clad in a buck- skin hunting costume, colored blood red, and black slouch hat with red plumes. ; Closely stacked near by were nine of Reming- ton’s latest imp*oved repeating rifles, the stocks of which were painted red in unison with the costumes — of the rangers. Considerable surprise was manifested, among these men, as they saw the old judge ride intocamp and dismount, but they spoke no word indicative of »— this surprise. : “Good evenin’!” the traveler said, as he drew closer to the fire, and took off his fashionable sill hat to se¢ if the falling tears of Jupiter Pluvius had damay it. ‘ Look’s as if we are in for a big storm, does it not?” : pe ““T should oy so,” replied the captain of the band, dryly. “ What ever brought you out here, this far, and all prospects of @ tearin’ night? Who be you, « anyhow?” . si “Eh? did you not receive warning that wascom-e ing?” demanded the judge, in amazement, : “*No! we received no warning; indeed, we know you not, being strangers in these parts.” ~ Fowler nodded and smiled understandingly. 2 “Yes, I know,” he rejoined, ‘But, yousee I am _ a new member, recently added in, ‘That accounts for your not knowing me.” “Hum, yes,” assented the captain, while he ex- changed inquiring glances. with his comrades, “* Who sent you?” 4 3 ; “The P, of the B. W. R!” replied Fowler. “I can give you the shake, if you desire.” : ei: “No need for that, I guess,” wasthe reply. “T suppose you are the bearer of news, eh?’’ ; és ‘tam, if you are the Captain Coffin I take you to * Rigg : iy “Yes, you may call me Captain Coffin, although, — of course, you understand that is not my real namé, _ What news do you bring?” ee. “Some ee in that cursed secret cipher, out of which I can make neither head nor tail. L was down at Fort Alexander, recently, and the Pres- ident induced me to become a member, which I did, — by receiving the initiation. The President then — ave me the dispatches, and ordered me to bring them to RA : oar “Ah! that’s good news. I have been looking fov orders. By this time there must be a goodly stock of ‘moonshine’ on hand, pes for transportation. — I should now be at the head-quarters, only that Black Snake Nelson, the usual Jeader of the men, here, is unwell, and ordered in, Have you the dis- ; patches handy? I'd like to look them over.” “Certainly,” replied the judge, importantly, ashe produced a well-filled wallet, from which he ex- * tracted a large document sealed with ped wax.and addressed to Captain Coffin. “Here, sir, is what i was commissioned to bring you. And, now. what Becommodatious have you for a fellow, until morne ing?’ near by. ‘ the earth for a bed. That’s what we men callaccom- modations, But, hold! would it not be safer for you to return to Squatterville under cover of dark+ ness? This poce is full of scouts and detectives who are laying for us, and to see you leaving our camp, might arouse suspicion.” : le “Hang the suspicion!” growled the judge. making for one of the tents, as fast as he could waddle. “Don’t think I’m fool enough to ride all the way home through a soaking rain, do you, and spoil mi hat and best suit? No, sir-ee! Money’s money, — nowacays, an’ a man has to be saving.” ates Accordingly, the messenger was left to enter th

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Buckhorn Bill, : 9 I o— XX mae: O at I— © AZ OT Vad yO WAI Fs eo a A 8 9 = AS ae i CE MAN STO el 1b —N oO KP A at. ae ae Sp oy Ge SOs “@ £ i . eS PO TRE We ro Mo oe. —tO ae ip smaller tent, and soon his Joud snoring proclaimed that_he was wrapped in oblivion. z “Now, then!” said Captain Ned Stockton, with a satisfied smile, ‘* what do you think of it? Didn’t I tell you our coming was not for nothing? The Red Rifle Team has struck a field where both ingenuity, craft_ and good shooting will be brought into play. This old ecodger who has so opportunely stumbled down among us, believes us to be the accursed Press- Gang, and that'I am the inhuman SS Bea Coffin, Here we have in our possession dispatches from the president of renee ang—perhays the most figantic one upon the Western border, Now. there lays before us a pa of duty which we must follow. Let’s open the dispatch; that may throw some light upon the subject; we may learn where this illicit whisky distillery is located.” ; “Had we not better wait till we are alone?”’ asked Hal Everette, glancing suspiciously toward the tent. - “No!” Captain Ned replied, quickly; ‘we must prep it now, so as to avoid suspicion. Go see if the old traitor is really asleep.” One of the Team accordingly cavtiously approach- ed and peeped into the tent, ~Yes, the worthy (or unworthy) judge, was lying prostrate—Morpheusized beyond a-doubt. pon learning this, Stockton tore open the wrap- r, and spread the mncssage out upon his knee. AS Fowler had said, it was written in cipher—in an in- congruous mass of ‘‘hen-tracks.” (On this page is a copy of it, as it came into the possession of the R le Team.) “There is your secret cipher,” said Ned Stockton, with a chuckle. “If any 0’ you’ve had education enough to read hieroglyphics, go ahead and tell us what she says.” “Dang it, I don’t believe any one can read them scrawls,” replied Dick Reade, *‘Nori don’t believe there’s any sense in the matter.” “There is undoubtedly a meaning which would be eyes understood. by this Captain Ccffin,”’ said Stockton, closely scrutinizing the document, while he ran his fingers through his straight, Indian-like hair. “There is knowledge in them scrawls that we must acquire. “ Let me see: the first is a letter C. Inotice that . letters. may be found all the way through, Hum, és—C-a-p-t. and_a ee That means Captain. UiG-t-f-in—-Coffin. al Captain Cofin. So far so good. I-l-Live-i-t, illicit; w-h-i-s-k-y, whisky. Jiicit Whisky. See! there’s more here too, L-o-0-n; that énds the letters.”” ; “And your information, also,” laughed Hal Fver- ette, ** You’ve had your trouble for your pains. “T guess I'm snagged, sure enough,” said Stock- ton, grimly. “ But I ain’t at all discouraged yet. If one could make out these hen-tracks, the right mes- sage would be forthcoming.” ’ * Maybe the old bu’stover knows,” suggested Fen Robinson. ‘‘Supposin’ we go and induce him to disgorge.”” . “No! no! Tl wager my rifle he cannot read the mess, or he would have been more profuse with his tongue. No, he is ignorant, and guess we shall have togive up stuck. We'll keep this paper, however; some time it may come in play.” So saying, he was about to refold it, when sudden- ly a large black hand reached over his -houlder from behind, seized the Pints clutched it between the talon-like fingers, and withdrew.. With cries of wonder, all gazed around, but the mysterious thief was nowhere in sight! : CHAPTER V. ; PICKING OFF PRAIRIE PIRATES—ON THE LAKE SHORE,

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10 men, whom he had sworn to kill off, one by one, until the Press-Gang and its advocates were a non- entity—were things of the-past rather than of the present, ‘“Tghave suspected as much all along, Elephant,” he replied, thoughtfully. ‘*I have known that devil- try was aback of it all, yet was unable to come to any definite conclusion. The durned skunks have Kept their secret well an’ ef they're as sharp on the guard, we may as well give over thé affair to anoth- er generation. Where do they hold out?’’ “T ken’t tell you, my gay buck, but ef we ken’t trail out that much, after knowin’ w’at we do, we orter be eternally chawed up by crockygaters. We {know that these infernal imps aire whisky distillers; it remains fer us ter find out whar they coop. Shall we work together, or shall we go in on our own in- derwidual, three-pronged hooks?” “Wal, Lreckon thet we’d better do each our own fizggerin’ and slaughterin’,’ replied the young Scourge, with a grim smile. ‘I reckon we'd get along *bout as well. You've got your own objec mine is one of vengeance, and I shall pursue it to the death. The spirits of my dead mother and little Maolin call upon me in every hour. I am constantly haunted by their voices, and know they plead to be avenged. God may judge me, w’en it’s all over, but I reckon *twon’t be very hard for riddin’ His fair earth ov a recognized curse.”’ } “Dunno how that'll be, boyee, but darn my don- leey’s eapecity, fer fodder ef I blame ye, Yer parfect 5 eeaee , an’ hayr’s w’at kin help ye wi’ a strong heart, S’pose ye’ll continny around these parts?” ““Yes—until my vengeance is fulfilled, and the Press-Gang and these illicit producers of hell-fire are extinct, Then’ I may perhaps change my life, al- though I siall ever have a strong antipathy to ruf- fians and ruffianism. The oath I swore over little Maolin’s grave was taken deep to heart—my hatred for evil-doers knows no qualification.” And the stern, terrible glitter that came into the eyes of the speaker, was more.than assurance that his words were not idly spoken or meaningless, Te was deeply in earnest in his retributive work— imbued with a burning thirst for vengeance which would not, as yet, be appeased, “I suppose there’s some 0’ the Press-Gang in the vicinity, now, eh?’’ he continued, peering around, but taking care not to expose his head above the grass-tops. - “Yas, ye’'re jest on ther right trail ter Biblical truthfulness,” Elephant replied, with a.chuckle. “Thar’s ther hull family uv ’em, scattered around, an’ they’vé got an idea thet they kin snatch you bald-headed. fer et’s known among ’em that ye’rs hayr. Thet’s why I tumbled down hayr—ter min- le my pills wi’ yourn in ther great work o’ rid- in’ (hes community uv a contagion—a great cavor- tin’ catalogue o’ sin an’ sorrer, Bully chance fer sharp-shutin’, an’ I propose thet we open ther per- formance wi’ an overture.” Saying which the fat s¢out thrust his head above the grass, and peered over the dun waving prairie. But Buckhorn Bill pulled him back, just in time to escape a volley of flying bullets. “Down!” cried Bill. “Tis death to expose your- self thet way. No use o’ tryin’ ter fight ’em in that fashion, fer they’ve got the top drop on us. Little more’n’ you'd bin’ a stiff.” “Yas! yas!’ muttered Old Elephant, grimly, as ye rubbed one of his ears which a bullet had scraped; ‘‘ther pesky devils are’s sassy as a swarm o’ disturbed hornets. Never see’d a set o’ roughs that would equal them for imperdénce and pure cussedness.”’ * What less could you expect of men whose lives are ruled by that soul-curse of the age—whisky?”’ replied Bill, bitterly. ‘*As much as IT love my life, Elephant, if I could see whisky and all intoxicating liquors banished forever from use, I’d say plug it to me—I’m re ter turn in, Yes, I would, for I loathe the very name of Sys ie aus M ES Ts suc hallo) <4 Ia E12 Le ae ana ee Buckhorn Bill. nen The reports of several rifles now rung out upon the air, loud and spiteful—nor were they far away. hem was shots from the Press-Gang’s pop- guns!” said Buckhorn Bill, decisively. *‘ Ther’s other lurkers around, besides us. I’m going to see what’s up.” ‘“Ain’t goin’ ter stick yer head up fer a target, aire ye?” “No. I ain’t so fond o’ gettin’ perforated. I’ve _ got something here that gets away with that—a dex. erously-contrived invention of mirrors, by which J — can, by lying in the grass and holding it up above the grass on top of a ramrod, see far over the prak _ rie, On producing it from his haversack, it proygd te be a number of smaw mirrors, fitted by angles inte the square shape of a box, It had a hollow depthin one side, and on the right of this was a small hole. in which to insert the ramrod. Buckskin Bill reviewed it a few moments, with pride; then dropping back upon the grass, he raised it upon the ramrod of his gun into the air, at arm’s- Sa : e AG but a swift glance into the hollow, then passed it to Old Elephant. “You see! there’s a dozen heads lookin’ out 0’ the 1 guess we’ve got a chance fer rifle-prac- old deposit of fat try an? see if he ken’t do ditto,” ““No; you keep watch an’ locate ’em fer me, while S give ‘em a kind of jerky sensation about ther — eart.’? ; Elephant prt raised the glass above the grass-top and through it scanned the plain. ‘Quick! Just back of your head is one o’ the varmints,’? he whispered, and the nextinstant Buck- — horn Bill’s trusty repeater rung out sharply, This — time there were two death-yells, and a cry of great astonishment from Old Elephant. 4 “Wonder o’ wonders! W’at means this, Billiam? Did yer shute pe cannon,in two directions?” 5 “Nol I <r ly aimed where you toldme. Why?— what caused those two yells?” “What? Gentle zephyrs thet fanned the brow uv old King Emanuel! hy, ye jest knocked two — mortals inter ther river Jordan, quicker’n a cat ked say me-eow. Both fell at ther same time.” F, “Phat _is strange,’ Bill said, lowering his rifle. — ‘My bullet could not possibly have caredfor more — than one rough. Some one else may be trying tar- get practice at ther expense o’ these qhakey wolves. : “But thar warn’t only one crack, Billiam—how about (hat ?” “T don’t know. I didn’t hear the report of an- other rifle. Looks a little strange. The fellers ain’t — playin’ possum, aire they?” *“No—not thet galoot, anyhow. *T'war a Jenny- wine piece 0’ deathly vocalism, that of his’n, an’ PU bet my peek history thet he’s up at Jordan now, waitin’ fer ther ferry-boat ter tote him across But ef thar’s any truth jn ther sible, he’ c ~ cee ete Ee 2s 4 a8

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‘ood time a-waitin’, ’ca’se ther doorkeeper won’t et him in,” “Then we are not friendless and alone ariOng these human badgers. Let’s have the glass, and will take a squint.” The valuabie little contrivance was accordingly surrendered, and the Boy Scourge (for by this name ke was well known upon the plains of northern Dakota) scanned their surroundings with a quick glanee, While he was looking he saw a rifle-barrel .and muzzle lying along on top of the waving ocean of grass; then heard a yell of anguish, and saw a prairie pirate fall back lifeless. ‘Ha! another of those mysterious death-shots without a report! By Jove! this is even beyond my pours of comprehension!’’ Bill exclaimed, lowering is glass. ‘* at do you think of it, Elephant?’’ “T reckon thet thar’s only one way ter it, Bucky,” the fat scout replied, grimly. ‘“‘Thet durned ole critter the Burnhamites call Death-Shadow is abroad Sgatn Et’s bin reported that he war dead, ye know, ut I reckon he’s flopped back into exis- tence,” “Tye heard much of the strange being, but never have seen him,” said Buckhorn Lill, thoughtfully. “ But he has heretofore used a rifle that bark-d.” ““Yas, I reckon you’re O. K. thar; but mabbe he’s cut ther tongue out 0’ ther anymal.” letween them the two scouts kept a. close sur- veillance upon the prairie, and. more than once they caught a glimpse of the gliscening rifle-bar- relin the dying sunlight, and each time the death- yell of a pirate was sure to follow. The roughs now kept their persons so closely concealed that no opportuzity was afforded Buck- horn Bill to practice his guess-work shots with any degree of success, and he therefore desisted. he sun was by this time kissing the western horizon before plunging its head into a bank of thunder-@louds which were rolling up to greet it; down in the deep valley at the right of the two scouts, the shadows of night were already growing . in density. A. breeze was springing up, which was areliéf after the scorching smiles of the sun upon a Jand which needed rain more than aught else. » “T geness I've done about all in my catalogue thet ken be done fer to-day,” said Buckhorn Bill, taking a last survey of the prairie. ‘The game keeps low, an’ we’re goin’ ter hev a caer rectly, so I’m goin’ ter slide out o’ this, if possible. Wf T need ye ye’ll heer the old buckhorn sereech, an’ _ ken amble toward. me as fast as ye please—fer ye =e Vl stand a good deal devilment before I sqneal,’ “Yas, that’s so. Be keerful thet the durned ga- Joots don’t flop ye, fu’st ye kno’, an’ take good care of yourself till we meet again.” : “You bet V’ll care for No. 1.” replied Bill, with a smile, then shaking hands with the fat scout, and slinging his rifle upon his back, he cautiously parted the grass and crept away. Not toward the valley, as some would have done, but straight along its banky as it ran in a western course. He knew full well that it would be worth his life to descend into the Li where no doubt a score of the white savages were lurking. . He had never but the once, when little Maolin ad been shot, been in the power of the Press- Gang, and he had no wish to fall into their hands now, for be was aware that they would put him to death in the most horrible manner conceivable, For he had been the deadliest and most persistent of all their foes—a veritable scourge whom they feared even more, individually, than they did the strong arm of the law. As they had been unmerciful_to his mother and little Maolin, he had been unmérciful to them—had become a terror, an outlaw-hunter of acknowledged superiority ; none were there as bold, fearless, cun- ning and revenveful as he who answered to the name of Buokhorn Bil, s Boftly the young Scourge crept along, his every Buckhorn Bill. ‘~ sense on the alert for danger. his eagle-eyes scan- ning the path and its’ sidings—his wicks | im- bued in the work of escaping. Now and then he heard voices close by; then he oe pause until certain of his ground before going urther. As he crept on, the clouds rolled up blacker and blacker from the west, and spread out like giant wings over the face of the sky. 1t also grew rapidly. darker on the prairie, until things at a distance were not distinguishable. Several times in’ his progress the young Scourge near falling into a trap set by the maneuvering outlaws. Lut, each time some strange intuition warned him of the danger in time for him to escape it. And at last he concluded that he was out of the cordon that had been woven around him. “Now, then, let the imps guard the prairie—they’ll find one parcel of their geme missing,” he muttered. ** Hope they won't get hold of Old Elephant. though. Wouldn't like ter kave him angelized yet awhile.’ Rising to his feet, he hurried along briskly in a western direction. In the course of half an hour he descended a prairie slope, and passing through a belt of scrubby timber, mixed here and there with old dead pines which the lightning had blasted, he came out upon the low sandy shere of a little sheet of water, known as Loon Lake, from the fact that a species of birds of this name had been found swim- ming upon its waters, os Buckhorn Bill started back with an exclamation of surprise as he saw the water lying before bim. Wide as was his acquaintance with this country, he- had never yet stumbled upon this lake, although he had heard of it frequently. ‘ i Another thing surprised him, teo. A slight girlish figure was standing at the water’s edge, not a dozen yards from where the young Scourge had halted. _- ° : CHAPTER VI. : THE NYMPH OF THE LAKE—FRIENDS MEET—A CLEVER , DECOY. Bucxkrorn Birt was not a little surprised at seeing | the girl. Least expected. of all, was the finding cf her here, where human habitations were not—whcre 7 prowling red skins came in the summer months, to — hunt and fish. ~ { “It wonder who she is?’ he myttered, standing — back among the shadows, and’ watching her. — “Graceful and pretty of build, ard I reckon she’s — pretty of face, ef a feller could get a gl'mpse of it. — About sixteen or seventeen. Poor Maolin would — have been sixteen to-day, had she lived.” : A deep regretful sigh escaped the lips of the Young 3 Scourge, and his face was shadowed by an expres- | sion as dark as the night around him. ehad never — forgotten the great wrong; the murder of his litle sister was ever engraven forcibly upon his memory; | —he could not lose sight of it, aa For several moments he stood under the trees, at — aloss what to do. The girl was standing in the. sand, with the-waves of the lake lapping the shore | at her feet, apparently in a deep reverie, as she | gaz dout over the water which was shrouded in darkness, too deep for penetration by the human eye. ; As Bill had observed, she was graceful of form, ] being rounaly contoured and developed, and of medium stature. Her face, which the Boy Scourge was unable to-serutinize, it being av. rted, was finely — chiseled and pretty, lusciously tine ed with the roses: of perfect health. Her mouth was small and sweet- ly expressive; her eyes brown, and her hair, worn waving down to her waist, was of tLo same hus, She was attired in a light calico dress hich reached to the ankles, exposing a pair of prettily Slipp feet. Around her waist was a belt containin; knife, and upon her head a ribboned straw hat. far away a light skiff rocked against the beach, showed the mode of her transportation hither, _

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12 Buckhorn Bill. “7 wender what she’s doing over here, anyhow?” Buckhorn Bill muttered, his curiosity growing stronger every moment. ‘‘It kinder'appears to me thet et ain’t natteral fer a gal ter be alone out hyar, so fur in the wilderness, unless there’s something back of it. Don't think I’ve seen her anywhere, either, unless I’ve forgotten about it. Must have come across the lake, judgin’ by that boat. Wonder ef she lives over there, or what? That’s the question before he debate court. : “Kinder like ter know what she’s up to, an’ who she is; but, jest as like’s not she’d feel insulted ef I war ter introduce myself to her. So I don’t know what to do. She don’t seem ter hev any ijee et’s goin’ ter rain, neither. *Spect she’s waitin’ ter some one! By this time night had set in with its full darkness, and the lone watcher on the beach was hardly dis- tinguishable from where Bill was standing, The thunder was growling along the threatening sky, the wind was puffing fitfully through the trees, and zig- g streaks of lightning played over the black storm- clouds, overhead. ‘The rain would soon come in tor- rents, and Bill made up his mind to act, in prefer- enee to standing in idleness. He would go forward and speak to this strange nymph of the lake-shore, and learn, if possible, her business out here alone, Ho was about to steal forward on his errand, when he detected the sound of a footstep in his rear, and wheeled about, quickly. ; : “Don’t ba alarmed,” said a pleasant voice. “ Guess Tain’t no painter ner grizzly, as is goin’ to mount. You'’ra a party feller, ain’t ye, standin’ heer a-gazin’? et thet gal, yonder, like as ef you're love-sick!’ “ Well, whose business is it?’ Buckhorn demand- ed poets around, trying to outline the speaker. “Who are you, and what are you doin’ a-prowlin’ around here like a red varmint? Got a notion ter put a lead telegram after you, on the strength of my suspicion thet you’re a pirate ” “Humph! on your ear, eh?’ replied the other, ood-naturedly. ‘“‘A wasp stung ye, thar, or sum eathen bin fingering fer yer scalp. Needn’t plug yer pills at me—I ain’t no pirate. y name’s Turtle - Tom Frailey, trapper and b’ar-ketcher, at yer ser- vice. You’re Buckhorn Bill, I know, fer I got a tmicricopic view uv yer handsum bazzoo, awhile “ Turtle Tom!” exclaimed the young Scourge, in great surprise.: ‘Gan it be possible? ‘T and every- _ “dy else have supposed you to be dead, you have i) Jjnissing so long. Come up, and give us yer aw. Accordingly, the speaker advanced, and the two goung men exchanged hearty hand-shakes—for _ turtle Tom was young, being about the age of our ner)—namely, eighteen. __ His parents having been slaughtered during the “Indien campaign, when he was but twelve years of age, he had adopted the calling of a hunter and trapper, which he had followed ever since, ; He and Buckhorn Billhad been close friends and -eompanions from early childhood, and until a year - before, when the young trapper had suddenly dis- appeared and had never been heard from since. He wasa plain young fellow in buckskin—not one to attract much attention from the feminine sex, buta _ fellow whose manly attributes were admired by men generally, He had a smooth, plain face, not hand- some, black eyes and hair, and a strengthful form. _, * By Jingo! I never was more tickled to meet a fellow in my life!” cried Buckhorn Bill, enthusiastic- ally. ‘Where the deuce have you been this year oH oan when we've all been mournin’ you for pb ANV Clk: Bill, that’s a hard question ter answer with- | out a full stock of breath aboard, and. as ’m minus a full supply, aii ec aat yow lL hey ter let me post- _ pone my story ’til another tims. What ars you up Oo, skulkin’ around in the woo 1 like an Injun, with eye cast hawk-like upon that leetle gal, yonder?” ‘Why, you see I—I was just wonderin’ what d, = fetched her here!” answered Bill, in some confuslon. “Do you know her?”’ e * No, but thet ain’t a-sayin’ I wouldn’t like to, Bin puzzlin’ my topography fer half an hour ter find out what she’s up to, but I can’t.”’ ; “Nor I. ckon she’s waitin’ fer somebody, er else she’s crazy, or somethin’ of the kind. was jest a-goin’ ter speak to her, a bit ago, when you came up.”’ ‘ “‘T know ye was an’ thet’s the reason I spoke, fer I didn’t want ye to poke yer handsome phizin whar I'd made calculations.” “Oht that’s it,eh? ‘Well, shall we pull straws to see who goes for her?” “No, Iguess it ain’t worth while. You sail in, an’ ef ye kin scoop ther pretty craft wi’ yer good canvas Iwon’t object.” “T don’t want to invest in females further than necessary, soif you’ve got any little love irears in yer head, Vl puéin a good word for you!” Bill said, with a laugh. ‘“ You stay here, and Lll go forward and see what the gal is up to.” Leaving his rifle behind him, the Pea Scourge stole out of the woods on tip-toe, and softly over the sands of the lake-shore. o stealthy was his tread that he was beside the lake-nymph, ere she discov- ered his approach or presence, y When she did, she neither screamed nor started te run away, but stood stillin her tracks, and gazed at him, coolly. This took him so much aback, that jt was severar at ere he could command his power of sp2ech. He expected nothing else thanithat she would be frightened, hut here she stood with as much com- » osure as might haye been exhibited by- an old unter, inuw to peril and surprises. “Well?” she said, interrogatively, looking up into his face, ria hae 228 “What do you want? ’ ““T want to know who you are, and what you are doing here alone on this e-shore, such a nigh as this?” Bill replied, sheepishly, after some hesitation. He was becoming aware that, he was infringing upon that which was none of his business. “Humph!” and the lips of the girl curled just a trifle. ‘“Supvose I should tell you that it was none of your business! What then?” “Why, [should say you were exceedingly sassy. as my motives are the best. I did not know bu what you were in trouble—lost, perhaps, and unable to determine the direction ef your home.” _ The Buckhorn's tones were now soft and reassur- ing, and his language better then he generally used, for, thanks to his mother and father, he had re- ceived a fair education, and it was a mere habit do- rived from association with rough, western charac- ters, which caused him usually to speak in the illiterate style of the frontier. fie girl Nymph laughed merrily at his last re- mark, : “No need to fear of my getting lost,” she replied, “for I could find my way to the place I call home with my eyes blindfolded. I have seen you, hereto- aves although you knew it not. You are Buckhorn i? “Yes, I reckon you are level, thar. How’d you find it out?” re “Oh! Pye seen you at Squatterville, occasionally, sometimes at the stores—other times in company with one you call Pearl.” “Eh? is that so? Yes, it was Pearl Burdelle, cr gag as she is generally known, Do you know er? ““By sight.” “She is a very sweet, pretty girl!” Bill said this, a conscious flush stealing over his cheek. * And some one thinks a. great deal of her!’’ the Nymph twitted, with a little laugh: “I don’t bleme you, Mr. Burnham; she really is a nice, lovable i Pitekhorn Bill whirled around in the sand on ais. hecl; then scratched his head perplexedly, . Se a cia — z

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How was this thing progressing? This strange oy seemed to know considerable about bim and s affairs; and he could but wonder at her child- like familiarity in talking to him, a stranger. “Guess I ain’t very deep in luv, yet,’’ he said: with agrimace. ‘ With ther exception o’ my poor dead mother an’ sister, I never hev hed a yery exalted opinion uv ther female \ine—begging your pardon, of course.”” = “You are excusable of course,’’ was the reply, and then she begar to edge toward the boat. “You ain’t going?” Bill demanded. “Yes, I must.” “But what did you come here for?” “Teannot tell you, I’d advise you as—as a fiiend +to leave this vicinity at once,’’ “You don't say! Why?” “Because there is danger!” “Bah! Danger and I are old pards. We've learned each other’s grip by heart. “You are incorrigible. You should take my advice.” ‘ ‘ : ‘* Well, we'll see about that, by and by. Going to tell me your name, ain’t ye, before ye vamoose?”’ ““ What for?” “Oh! because I want to remember you by some name. Ikerry a register up hayr in my topograph- ical construction, whar I put down ther name an’ sum total uv every one I meet.” “Well, then, my name is Mehetible Ann Macca- day, with a little ripple of roguish laughter. ~ “Git cut! I know better. Pretty birds must necessarily have appropriate names.” “* Well, then, Mol y Miner,” “Which is a decided improvement. on the other, You won't tell me what brought you here?” ** When will you come again?” ‘“*T don’t.know—imaybe never,” ** Yes, you will, or [ shall come and hunt you up.” “Don’t dare to attempt it, LT beg of you! You are in the midst of great peril, which will only be in- creased should you come in search of me. Good- y. *Good-by!”? Buckhorn replied, with rather- a strange sensation tugging in the neighborhood of bis young heart. as he saw the nymph step into the red-painted skiff, and fit the oars into the row-locks, In a moment more she had pulled out onto the lake, and was lost from view. - en she was gone, Bill crept back into the tim- ber, where Turtle Tom was awaiting him. ‘The rain was beginning to spatter down faster, while the thunder growled and gates of heaven, Now, too, the lightning occasion- ally glared vividly, lighting up the scene around for considerable distance. “BHt's goin’ ter be a regular old antediluvian starm!" observed Turtle Tom, crawling in under the sheltex of a huge cottonwood, whose foliage grew close dpwn to the ground. ‘I don’t opine we kin get a much better place than this, eh, Bucky?” “Nol we’ll stay heer till the storm is over, and see what turns up. See!” as a flash of lightning lit the heaven and earth— ‘there goes the girl, now. How big isthislake, Tom?” 3 “Three miles wide by six long. I believe. Thar’s never bin tauch notice taken of it, because et pos- sesses no peculiarities like some lakes, _ The Injuns sumtimes come here and camp ona big island about '-a mile out from here. . Its outlet is the Skunk creek.” ‘ ‘Ts it deep?” eae ; .__“Ves—is said to have no bottom, in some places. This forest surrounds it on all sides.” Conversation was now laborious, fora great racket was occasioned by both the falling rain and boomin thunder: while the heavens were incessantly fire _ by the blinding rlares of lightning, The rain poured down in great toi rents, and the wind blew the waves of the little luke igh up on the beach, ; “ Look)” sudde.sly cried Turtle Tom, pointing out . Buckhorn Bill. ounded within the« out of our pie. Ih will only take old Fowler four or 13 on the water, where a flash of lightning revealed two men in an open boat, clasped in a bear-like hug. It was a momen ary glimpse that was afforded the two youths; then the wind brought in to land a wild, distressed ery of— “Help! kelp/ Buckhorn Bill!” Th n a silence followed; the storm thunder ceased to growl. “J must gol” the Young Scourge cried, leaving his rifle behind. “‘ That was Old Elephant, reckon, squealin’ fer help.” e bounded down to the lake and waded out into the water up to his arm-pits. Then he paused to get bearings, when another flash of lightning came. ‘When it did come, he made a ey as discove: He had been decoyed—entrapped by Captain Coffin's men! A dozen boat-loads of the Prairie Pirates yye rowing stealthilg toward him—while others , sre shutting off his retreat toward land! ? lulled, the CHAPTER VII. MAJOR STERLING AND HIS MISSION. Tux astonishment of Captain Ned Stockton knew no limit, when he looked but could see nothing of the owner of that strange black hand, which had so pele snatched away the message of the secret cy er. ike a phantom of the blackness itself, the. being, or whatever it was, had come and gone, leaving neir ther trail nor track. 2 “Quick! up and spread in every direction. Fifty dollars to the man who catches ‘the thief!’*cried Captain Ned. ‘‘ I wouldn’t have lost the message for that sum.” A hasty search was made over the prairie sur- rounding the caimp, but nothing of the black-Landed thief was heard orseen. As mysteriously as he bad come had he gone, and_all efforts to find him were unavailing, so that the Red Rifle Team returned to camp empty-handed, ‘It’s too ridiculously bad!” growled Captain Ned, ee vexed. “T wouldn’t have lost that paper for anything.’ i Pshaw!” replied Hal Everette, ‘it wasn’t worth anything, ’ You couldn’t make anything out of it; so what good was it ever likely to do.you?”’ “None at present perhaps; but hereafter we might have become possessed of a key,to the cipher, Then we could have used the information to some purpose.” “Well, we may be able to get a duplicate,” sug- gested Dick Reade, ‘ Allwe have to do is to tell old Fowler that_a sneak-thief stole away the paper be- fore we could make it out, and he’ll go back to the Pee of the whisky ring, and procure an- other.” ~.. i “A capital idea!” accepted Ned, brightening up. “Go and rouse the old chap at once, and we'll ap- prise him of our loss. By making him still thin that we arethe Press-Gang we may be able to get - much out of him.”” i i ‘Sh!’ warned Hal.in a low tone—“ here comes the old gent now. He’s bin disturbed by the racket we made, and is coming out to see about it.” Judge Fowler, true enough, had left, his tent, and was coming toward the fire at his waddling gait. As was surmised, his dreams had been disturbed, and in sleepy anxiety he demanded to know the cause of the noise. : es Ned volunteered to explain, relating about the theft, and suggesting that he (Fowler) should go back to Fort Alexander for a duplicate of the mes- saze, This he promised, rather grumblingly, to do; then trudged back to his tent, muttering something about being disturbed again. “We've things working nicely, now,”’ said Captain — Ned, after they too had accepted of the shelter of the remaining tent, because the rain was falling, ‘if this black-fisted wretch will only keep his finger

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Set arnt tN Foe la Na il a idle 14 eee res flvé days at the longest, to ride to Alexander and back, and we may as well stay here till he returns.” “Itell you what my ijeer is,” said Dick Reade. “T calculate this black-handed galoot is oue of the Press-Gang, an’ seein’ Fowler’s mistake, without be- in’ able to apprise him, he’s snatched away the docu- ment SO that we shouldn’t find out the secret it con- tained,’ 1 oo hope it ain’t that. But, there’s no tellin’. ‘“Hel- (9) - This latter exclamation was occasioned by some- thing that fell at the feet of ere Ned—a_ sharp, jong arrow, which had been shot through the tent siding by sme one from the outside. The tail of the arrow, half-way up to the head, was covered with wrapped string, beneath which could be seen a bit of white paper. ‘““Tt’s a message from some unseen friend!” cried Dick Reade, who had picked it up. ‘ Let’s see what mystery is to be unraveled by this strange commu- nication.”” With the point of his dirk he ripped off the cord, and unwound the paper from the arrow stem. ‘Hal there are two papers,” he cried—‘‘ one is the paper of that secret cipher, returned, and the other is a message in pencil. Let me see what the contents are.” “Tnelosed you will find the message which was stolen from you by the black hand: I wished t» know what was up among the whisky gang, and by aid of a powerful lens discovered. If you wish to know, press a hot flat-iron over the back surface, and writing will come to view. It is written with milk, and the scrawls on the other side are amply to puzzle any one, outside of the Whisky Ring, into whose hands their message may fall. Your pro- posed attempt to break up the Whisky Ring is praise- worthy, and 1 wish you success, “Drath SHApow.” “Death Shadow!” echoed Captain Ned, in sur- prise. ‘* Who’s he?” “We have that yet to learn; probably he’s some outlandish old frontiersman, with a wrong to avenge, who has adopted that dramatic nom de plume. Now, how are we to get the writing out of this cipher mes- sige? We’ve no flat-iron.”’ i We'll have to wash off a stone, and héat it, for a substitute,’ said, Hal Everette. ‘“ And you don’t want to tell anything of our getting possession of this message again to old Fowler; let the old tub-of- fat go back to Fort Alexander, and maybe he'll return with news that will be more beneficial to us.” * Yes, you’re right,” said Stockton. ‘Keep the matter a secret from the old traitor and we'll use him while we can, and then hang him up as an ex- ample fof others of his ill to profit by. The next thing isastone,” 4 2 The work of improvising a hot flat-iron out of a cold muddy stone was not one of ease, but after repeated experiments, they succeeded in getting one hot. After this was rubbed off, the cipher-mes- sage was drawn over it several times, which had the eifect of peiniging, to light the secret lines which had been traced in milk. When all had been brought out, Dick Reade read the following, aloud: ‘ “Fort ALEXANDER, August 8, 187—. .“Caprain Corrimy:—Drar Srr:—I write to know if you have any more moonshine ready to flood, for there are several places which need Se aa I have shipped to Deckel’s Siding, N, P. R. R., four hundred bushels of rye, which your caravan can get, as soon as you arrive there with your consign- ment of moonshine, as usual, A fe ‘Bo stealthy, for I hear rumors that certain Gov- ernment officials have been ordered here. I send this by a new and influential member. Sse that his needs are attended to, Work the Press-Gang con- stantly, for w2 shall need a full hand should hostil- ities begin. Ship as soon as possible, and await a reply from 4 THs PRESIDENT.” Bucktorn Bill. “There you have it all in a nutshell, my Jarklest” eried Captain Ned, jubilantly. “1 told you there was knowledge in that paper.” ‘*But_it is comparatively valueless to you,’’ ob- served Everette, ‘as you do not know the location of the distillers’ stronghold.” “Tl know where that is soon, too,’ vowed Stock- ton, ‘‘for I shall leave you to care for things here on bares age nb while I scout around after this Captain Coffin. Once I shadow him, I'll freeze to his scent until the distillery is unearthed.” “ A good idea; but come! it’s time to turn in, for we know not, in this strange country what the mor- row may bring forth.” It was Dick Reade who said this, and as his ad- vice was pa a next to that of Captain Ned, a general stretching out was the result, The night passed without event at the camp, and in the morn- ing the sun rose as hot as ever it shone down upona western plain. = F The rangers were early astir, and after feeding Judge Fowler all his great capacity could contain, he was started off for old Fort Alexander, from whence he promised to return inside of five days with the dispatches. Whether he would or not, of course could only be conjectured. Three years before, Captain Ned Stockton had re a rising young lawyer in a thriving border clby. He had also connection with the United States Se- cret Service of Washington, as a member, for the purpose of watching the border towns which were at St bat and dealing extensively in untaxed whisky. As ieee out, the Government could have ar pointed no better man to fill the po_ ition than Stock- ton, for not only was he alive to his duty, but ever ~ and anon he made raids upon illicit ranches, and successfully captured both the whisky and the man- ufacturers thereof. i eee raids were satisfactory to the Government, n the young detective pursue his work, that great con- dence was put in him—perhaps more than was ¢x- tended to any other member along the frontier. ‘Needing help in his raids, upon whic he could de- pend ata moment's notice, he had received orders to pick out the least number of safe, trusty men he could get along with; whereupon the Re 1 Rifle Team was organized, and the service they had done along with their gallant commander, had led them to be put oe regular salary as ‘‘ minions of the Govern- ment. It was a telegram from head-quarters that had sent the rifle team up into Northern Dakota, to learn:the truth in regard to a gigantic whisky distillery, a rumor of which had been wafted to Washington. Ready to work at notice, the gallant band had come, and the reader has already seen what they had learned concerning the great fraud. A year previous to our introduction to them, Ned Stockton was sitting in his office, at B—— City, en- aged in looking over some charts and maps which lay before him on his cesk. he day was a warm one in July, and his door stood ajar to admit the refreshing breeze that swept in from the prairie. | So attentively was he engaged in his work, that he did not for some time notice a stranger who had en-- tered and taken a seat, When he did, he bowed politely, and demanded to ~ knowif he could do anything in his line for the stran- ger, whom he recdgnized as an officer he had once seen at Fort Alexander, while on a visit there. The man was just fifty, probably, judging from his silvered locks, although he was yet fresh and handsome of countenance. His eyes were black and brilliant, and he wore a long beard of alike hue. . ‘*My uame is Dayid Sterling,” he said, in answer ] - ; reatest degree, and so faithfully did the — nek an ee vod ‘a

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Buckhorn Bill. eee to young Stcckton's ‘inquiry, ‘‘and lam anex-major, retired from yctive service in the army. I am, and have been in ‘rouble, for many years, and hearing of you and yotr proficiency asa detective, I have come to see if you can do anything for me.’ “Exactly!” Stockton replied, iaying aside his charts, and taking his note-book and pencil, “‘Some- thing in the moonshine line, eh?” “Oh! no; not that, My trouble is of a different nature. You, in your ee sheongh the country might be able to find what I want. you will listen I will tell you my trouble.” Accordingly se Ned did listen, and in, short- hand, which he t oroughly understood, he chroni- cled the story which the major related to him. It was one of much importance, and one in which he became instantly interested—a story of a foul wrong which had been done the officer, years before, ere time had silvered his locks, , When he had finished, he wiped away tears which had gathered _ in his eyes during the relation of the story, and said: “Now, young man, do you not think you may be able to assist me? Your knowledge of the West and western men, among whom you mingle, is becoming greater every day, and you travel over a large scope of territory. Maybe you might run across the two objects of my life, unexpectedly; will you then as- sist me?” “Most assuredly,” Stockton replied. “If I strike @ trail likely to prove successful so far as you are concerned, I will follow it up.” “God bless you for the words,”’ the major had said, and after pressing upon Stockton a purse.of money, he took his departure. That was the Jast the young detective saw of him until to-day, when shortly after the departure o) old Judge Fowler for Fort Alexander, this selfsame Major Sterling rode into the camp, Stockton recognized him at a glance and shook hands with him, cordially, when he had dismounted. ‘Tam glad to see you, major,” he said, Wen’ “and welcome you to the quarters of the Red Rifie Team; but {1 am much surprised to see you in per- son, looking even younger than when at first I met you.” The major smiled. 4 “Perhaps my youth is coming on in my old age,” he said, “‘l once knew a man whose hair was said to be white at the age of twenty-three. On his ninety-first birthday his hair was black and abundant. What have you made out concerning my case, young man?” ‘Iam sorry to say, nothing,” Captain Ned replied, as he conductel the venerable officer into camp. “It has not yet been my fortune to come across anything appertaining to your case, for all I have kept my he open.” ~, “Yet I feel the time is not far distant!’’ the major said, bowing his head upon his breast, with an in- ward groaning of spirit. “I have strange dreams of late which have led me to believe that my hour of ‘happiness is not far off. I have never wholly pee up—I will not, for, while there is life there is hope. ‘Therefore I have come out here, and seeing your camp down here, awhile ago, I put into port, to rest.” “T am glad, for we are about to attempt another whisky case, and something may turn up which will be interesting to you. One cannot tell what a day may bring forth, you know.” f “Truly spoken, young man, and with your con- sent, [ will keep along with you and your band, forI have stilla strong arm yet, and might be of some little service to you. Indeed, my spirit is yet that of a boy of twenty, and_ were another war to break out, I doubt not but I should take a hand, old asIam. And, if youshould find it in your power to restore to _ me what I have lost, you shall not lack reward, for I've got more money, probably, than you ever saw. _ And so the major was made welcome to the ran- , from retreat to the shore, but 15 « gers’ camp, and entertained as a guest, while every respect was shown him because of his old age. What was his mission none but Stockton knew. CHAPTER VIII. A HOT-BED OF ENEMIES—A MYSTERY OF THE LAKE— THE CAPTURED MESSAGE, Tue situation of the Boy Scourge was not only one of unpleasantness, but of deadly peril. For, in that flash of lightning he saw not only that he was cut off eheld also the wild exultant expression on the horde of fierce faces and heard t) Ale of the enemy echo and resoun through the e forests. He only too well knew that only quick action could save him from death, and that it must bea fight till the last breath was gone. E “The devils worked their trick very smart!"' he muttered, as he stood for a moment undecided how toact. ‘*I don’t reckon the gal had ayes to do with it, though, fer she war too good ter plan fer my death! Wish Tom had come with me, I reckon we two could just about made it interestin’f«r these reptiles. Hope et won’t lightning any more, neitt er, 4a ee ked perforate me like a piece o’ card oard.”? ; The boats containing the Press-Gang raffians were ereeping steadily nearer and nearer, the muffled paddles making no noise that would betray their ex- act whereabouts. | Nor could Bill see them,so dense was the black- ness of thenight. The rain was mie pouring down, in torrents, and the thunder crashing with renewed oree. Had he not been cut off from land, the Boy Scourge would not have been puzzled how to act; but, as.it was, he was undecid He had two chances of get- ting out—one by diving in under water, and swim- ming out into the Jake, and the other of fighting his way to shore, where, in all probabilities, he would find a line of desperate enemies ready to seize him. On the other hand, if he got beyond the enemies out into the lake, he would have to make a long and tiresome swim to reach landin any direction. Turtle Tom had said that there was an island in the lake a— mile from shore, but to try to find it in this Stygian — darkness would be equally as preposterous as for a mariner to attempt to navigate the seas without a — compass. f “Til fight, first, and see what can be done in the way of escaping, afterward!” he muttered, drawing — his pair of seven-shooters, and cocking them, care-— fully. -‘* The first nigger on deck gits a blizzard.” It was evident that the outlaws wished to capture the young Scourge first, and put him to death after- ward, else they would have fired upon him, ; Fortunately Bill’s wish was gratified, for no more lighting came, immediately, to reveal his position to — the es But he knew, all the same, thatethey were not far away although he could neither see nor hear them. With caution he retreated far enough toward the shore so that the water did not interfere — with his arms; then pointing both his revolvers into the dense blackness, he fired at random, He waited long enough to hear two answering yells of agony; then dropped in under wat r, just in time to escape a volley of bullets which came from the ene- my. .% As he went down he thrust his revolvers secu: = into his pocket, so that he should not lose them, and then swam in under water for a considerable dis-_ tance. At last, however, he was forced to come to. the surface, and found that he had come up out of standing depth. eo He also made a startling discovery! : ¥ Tico boats filed with outlaws, were passing slowly by on either side of him—so closely that an oar-ts grazed against one side of his head! eS In alarm he held his breath, and again sunk silent: ly beneath the waves. But he could not remaf wn for any length of time, cng ey

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ay S16 The boats were past’now, and he was‘alone in the “waters of a lake of which he knew nothing. “Thank God I’m out of that cebes e he muttered, whopping over 6n his back and allowing the water jo float him along until he was rested. “Whew! I wish old Jupiter Pluvyius wouldn’t shed such mighty biz tears down into my face, though. Wonder if I uniaterialized the spirits of them two chaps w'at yellel. I hope so, and am sorry | could not manage - topay’em all my respects in better shape. Hope Tom Frailey ain’t got into them cusses’ hands, but it’s more’n likely he has. Durn’em, I can’t help let- ” gerous! t And. detaching from his belt the buekhorn we have before mentioned, he placed the small end to his lips, and blew a pure, mellow blast, which echoed and re-echoed over lake and prairie for many ; "pag afterward, with wonderful tenacity of sound. . “Phere! that’s what tells where Buckhorn Bill is, an’ that he’s all right side up with care. Jemi- ma! hear the cusses sw’ar an’ yowlt over the dis- covery that I’m a human eel w’at’s wiggled through _ their fingers. Guess it will be advisable fer me ter exert my mermaid proclivities now, in order to es- cape.”” F Pesjorlog the horn, which was one of his own in- vention, to his belt, he rolled over again, and swam rapidly on out into the lake. - It now began to lighten, incessantly, and in such vivid glares that the lake was lit up every other mo- ment, as light as day. “Great mother o’ Moses! I never see sech light- ‘nin’ before,” Bill muttered, as he swam on through the buffeting waves. ‘Yes, an’ by Christmas, them imps are puttin’ after me! Good enough—serves me y — right! I orter kept my trap shet, and I'd been all ‘right. But, thet’s a virtual impossibility, sum- 1s T’ve got to talk off w’at I’m inflated with, or ~ bu’st.”” ‘ a The Press-Gang had' indeed turned their boats about, and the oarsmen were pulling with a will, while a number of them were occupying standing positions, wit’: rifles in their hands, apparently pre- paratory for use. __*Y reckon the galoots mean shute now,” the - Young Scourge muttered, as he occasionally glanced back, ‘Tney’ve their optics froze onter me, too, or elsa they wouldn’t come so straight. Dang the —Hightning— Criminy!” : e started visibly, and grew pale as there came a frig tful crash of thunder, that seemed to jar van the waters of the lake. Then the flashes of shtning once more ceased to come. _ “*Jove! there’s sumthin’ wonderful about this, hanged if there ain’t!’’ Bill muttered, gazing toward the inky heavens in awed surprise, “Ther old gent -upthere seems to know and do what I want. Meb- ‘be he's got kind of a liking after me, after all; and I know I think of His greatness too little. But et » sha’n’t bo so after this. I'm all hunky now, ef I hold out in strength.” Z Turning out of the course he had been pursuing, hs swam toward the right or northern end of the lake—swam as rapidly as he could, for he knew his ‘safety depended upon getting out of the track of the boats in time, Ten minutes of hard stroking; then he paused and listened. He heard loud, angry voices “west of him, and concluded that the outlaws were still pulling on in the vain hope of finding him —for Was @ vain hops. “Guess the salamanders aire gettin’ considerably 3 aac; the Buckhorn observed, with a smile of umph, ‘Hello! they've lit a lantern off yonder. Wish I ad my rifle, an’ sumthin’ besides water tostand on, nd I’d make some punctuations in their life parch- ent. Wonder where [ am, anyhow, or how fur it prise island Tom Frailey spoke about? ‘Twixt an’ mainland, the distance must be about equal. i ell-disposed botch of humanity would sum w en i -tin’’em know I’m alive and kickin’, yet ef it és dan-, Buckhorn Bill, pte along with a boat, for I'm gettin’ all-fired ined.’ Knowing his endurance would not last much Sy without rest, he turned over on his back, and floated about at the will of the waves for ssme time, keep- ing watch on the movements of the outlaws, whom he knew to be where he saw the light. Bat at last he was startled by bearing the dip of a paddle, and turning quickly over on his faze he pro- Peed and kept himself upon the surface with one and, while, with the other, he drew a revolver. A boat was coming direetly toward him. Didit cone tain friends or enemies? Thenshe heard a little laugh, and— “* Well, sir! are you here?” Tt was the girl’s voice that spoke: “Great Jupiter! who are you?’ Bill demanded, wonderingly. ‘Molly Miner, at your service!” and the boat float- ednearer, ‘Climb in, and I will row you to shore. I wonder you escaped the Press-Gang.’ > “Oh! that’s easy enough, when you once know how,” Buckhorn Bill replied, with a laugh, as he clambered into the skiff. ‘‘ But I didn’t expect to be granted the pleasure of meeting you so soon, again. bee oo you know abou! them fancy roosters over ere : “TI may know a great deal, or a very little, but I eannot tell you anything.” “Beta copper you belong to *em, and know whar their roost is!” “T won’t bet. Here; lend me a hand, and we'll ull for the shore. The sooner you are on Jand the etter it will be.” s ‘“*Yas—for them chaps, yonder. Put hold ‘on. Just let me toot my horn ter let ‘em know I’m all _ right. No doubt they’re very anxious concerning my welfare!” “No! you mustn’t,’"said Molly, quickly, putting up her han4, ae é * Why not? Not one toot?” : * Because it would show your enemies just where to look for you; moreover, it would be certain death tomeif it were known that I had anything to do’ with getting you ashore. Come! will you help me now, or will you let me do it all alone?” “Not much, you sha'n’t! Excuse me, fer I war thinkin’ 0’ tootin’ my horn, an’ not cf escaping.” Instead of one, he seized both of the oars, and — pulled swiftly through the waters, Nota word more was spoken until the boat grounded upon the sandy shore; then Bill sprung out, and said, while he ex- tended his hand, frankly: ss - “TY thank you very much, Miss Miner. and some | sey I bere to reward you for your services to me, -night.” He then, after clasping her hand a moment in his, was. about to stride away, but she called him back. ‘* Stop!” she eried, with her childish imperiousness, “T want you yet, before yougo. You must promise me something, and faithfully keep the promise.”’ ; “ The deuce you say! what is it!—d’ye want me ter marry ye, or ye goin’ ter get me into some trap?” “Neither. I want you to promise to forever leave this lake-shore, and never come near it again,”’ “What. Clear out, and never cum back again? Not much, I wou’t—not even for you. An’ I reckon thar ain’t many things I wouldn’t do fer you.” “Very well. I'll not ask you again. Stay, and take the consequences that must follow.” Witho it another word she pulled back onto the lake, ani was gone. . **Reckon she’s somehow connected with them ar’ Press-Gang pukes!”’ Buckhorn Bill muttered, arn after her, ‘‘an’ she ain't purtickler desirous thet shed agitate their peace o’ mind. But the et os skunks hey already hed several pieces uv my mind, w’at stuck by ’em. Let me see; I’m on tb shore now, and there don’t appear ter be any one about. Reckon I'd better squat sumwhere around here, and wait fer darkness to clear away afore I ramble about too permiscussly. Don’t seem to be

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any one in this yere vicinity at-present, onless they’re seroochin' around among these manzinta bushes. Reckon I'd hetter reconnoiter.”” Making as little noise as possible, he skirmished around through the adjacent woods, but without the result of finding any of the enemy. ‘Guess the pesky, pukes hev all took ter water. Now, then, I’m goin’ ter take a nap, hit or miss, or Iwon’t be fit fer a fig, ter-morrow. This makes three days an’ nights thet Thevn’t hed any sleep, Searching about, he soon succeeded in finding a desirable couch, Buthe was not destined to occupy it in slumber, for, just as he had got himself nice pace ted: his attention was called to. a large, bri iant light upon the waters. It seemed to pour out of some object: out in the center of the lake, and shot over the waters in a wide yellow bolt toward the eastern shore, “ello! what's that?” the Young Scourge mutter- ed, raising himself upon his elbow, and gazing to- ward the light in astonishment. “What eaniqansed mystery is thexe about this lake, anyhow? Thet looks es ef it waa from a locomotive head-light, but I don’t reckon they've got any locomotives hayr. Too dark fer 4, feller ter make out whar et comes from, too. Guess T won *f try, very serious, as long as et-don’t bite me.’ eS Without leaving his couch of leaves, which was under a thorn tree’s shelter, nearly af the water's edge, he watched the mysterious streaming light. It did pot seem to be moving, but rather remained fixed ¢.cd stationary. “Bot my gizzard Vil try ter anylize thet bizness, anoluer night when I ain’t so tired,” Bill muttered, “fev thar’s kind of a -prickly sensation in my peri- erecium w'at tells me this whisky distillery ain’t *ar off.. Hello! who comes there?” A skiff had touched shore but a few yards off, and a human form leaped ashore and skulked toward the woods. It needed but a glance to assure Buck- norn that it was a savage, and without a moment of hesitation, for he hated an Indian worse than he did a snake, he drew from his bosom the india-rubber pouch in which his revolver had repesed in safety— _ took it out and, with a quick aim, fired, the flash : ee ee the night, and the report ringing far over he lake. With a piercing death-shriek the red-skin dropped. tupon the sands, and bled out his life. Craeping out from his, concealment, Buckhorn Bill approached the spot where the stricken savage lay in death’s. » throcs. “1h? I tickled him to death wi’ plumbago, did I?” the Young Scourge muttered, with a chuckle. * Pity I couldn’t hey killed a dozen wi’ thet same Hello! it’s that old scurvy, Long Death, sure’s- oe eat Didn't know ke war in league wi” this Whisky Ring. An’ he’s got a papas thar, clutched in the p: m of his honey hand. It’s a mes~ give from, the gang ter some one, and Ill jest about: e pit in. sae the red-skin’s hand and parting the fin- gers, he soon had possession of the message. Ib »yroved, on examination by his punk light, to be: written in the same cipher that had so puzzled Ned Stockton and the Red Rifle Team, and covered half’ a page of common note-paper. Humph!” Buckhorn muttered in disgust; ‘‘some: of that secret ci nee again. Oh, well, I can keep it: for Sunday readin neT ‘the dip of paddles was now distinctly audible, and if needed no argument to convince the Scourge: that the eee ee was yet after him, having been. ‘ain arcused by the pistol-report. ~The light upon the lake had died out! “Guess I'll take to a tree, and see ef I can’t catch. a bit of a snooze while they’re searching for me,” CHAPTER IX. BUCKHORN BILL’S VENTURE — AGAIN st THE WATER— AN INTERESTING REGAT’ | @Lancina sharply around him, BOSE Bill ess pe Oe ee ee ee Bill, ae an immense cottonwood tree, ip ie Ee Vita’ Pore, slates ek giants ole ed cs ee grew at he edge of the lake, and he selected it as the Oue he should climb. It was large of circumference, with. - — growing down within six feet of the ground, and was fully fifty feet high, if not more. ~The Young Scourge ie up among the lower branches, from whence he worked his way cautious- ly upward from limb to limb, until he h ained a poe about fifteen feet from the ground. Here e paused to rest and listen, “Pretty good place fer to take a comfortable snooze,” he muttered, looking carefully around to see that no one else than himself was in the tree. “PE them danged salamanders will only let a feller alone—ha! theyre going to make a Lege | at the foot of this very tree! Hope to goodness theyll go along about their bizness and not stick their snoots up inter this place.” The Press-Gang, or part of it, consisting of some twenty men, soon beached their boats, an gathered on the shore beneath the cottonwood. Eagerly Buckhorn listened to their conversation, “Yas, here’s Long Death, sure enough,”’ growled one, kicking the #tiffening body with his foot. ‘I know’d it war his death-screech the minnet I heerd . it. Et air ther work of thet durned Buckhorn aie too. He nevyer wastes but one pill on a elier.”” ‘* fe can’t be fur away, then, Capt’in Gregg,” de- clared another. “ Neither he ain’t,” was the gruff reply. “ Wish Coffin war heer wi’ his gang, an” we'd soon rout bim out. Scatter, you skunks, and turn over every leaf from heer to quatterville, but what you find him. Reckon et’s time coffin war back from there, ef he hain’t hed no delays.” “What in thunder *d be 80 fer, anyhow, an’ take the best part 0’ ther gang “Dunno no more about Hs than youdo. Caleulate he hed sum private bizness on hand. Cuss the luck! thet young thief w’at killed Long Death has tuk ther message I sent ter Whisky Bill. But thet won’t hurt, tho’, fer et’Il take a smarter man than roams these prairies, outside 0’ our gang, ter make out ther secret o’ ther Secret Cipher!” No more of importance was said for the next few moments, for the outlaws scattered and began a close search for the daring Boy Scourge. “i¢ seems thet this ain’t Cap’ Coffin’s gang, after all?” muttered Bill, as he swung his legs from the limb on which he was perched, in the tree. “‘ But et’s a parcel of the original band, under a chap they call Grege. Wonder what Coffin is going to Squat- terville for? Reckon he war bound there when ee cornered me on the prairie, this afternoon, I'd li to be in his shoes, an’ see an’ hear what he’s up a Some devilishness, Tl warrant—perhaps to make some home fatherless or brotherless, with his Press-: Gang bizness. Reckon ther day ain't fur off when I'll get my eye cocked onter him, and then thar’ll be one less puke on ther face 0’ ther earth,” The ruffians were thrashing about through the woods below, at a terrible rate, and their profanit; was such as Buckhorn had never heard equaled, Among the loudest and angriest of them all was Captain Gregg, and the oaths he used and the threats he made against the object. of their search, were highly-flavored, and amusing to Buekhorn Bill, who was coolly enjoying the situation, as he sat w a his pte in among the branches of the giant cot wood, “Guess et won’t be healthy fer me to fall into their claws now,” he muttered. “* Wonder how much longer they’re goin’ to keep up thet racket, an’ keep a feller frum takin’ a comfortable snooze. Hope bb 4 don’t think I kin sleep in Bedlam.” e rain had by this time passed over, the thunder and lightning kad subsided, and the ominous banks of clouds were clearing away to reverl astar-decked sky. It also became lighter, and Bill came to the conclusion that morning was not far aw At last, growing discouraged, the whisky! rough ™

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18 all gathered on the lake-shore, beneath the cotton- wood, Gregg being the last one to come. ***Tain’t no use toxprolong the search, I guess,” he said, with a broad oath. 4‘ The young devil has hid, an’ we might look a lifetime wi’out findin’ him, Pile in, man ther oars, an’ let’s git, afore et comes light.” ‘Goin’ ter leave a watch?” “No! fer ef a man war to stay hayr, he’d only turn inter a macademized stiff ther minnit thet Bucknorn spied him. We've lost two men by him, ter-night, an’ we won’t risk any more, you bet. Pile in, all hands.” The three boats were filled, and pushed out into the lake, and the boat Long Death had come in, was also Pepe eat eas ‘Then the outlaws rowed silently away rough the waters and the fading night. ‘*Now, ef et warn’t fer fetchin’ ’em back, I’d jest luy ter give a blast on my buckhorn,” the Boy Seourge muttered, with a grin, in anticipation of the pleasure it would give him. ‘ But, I guess Vl let.*em go, this time.”’ Concluding toremain where he was until daylight, heimproved the intervening time by taking a aay rude and primitive as were his accommodations. He awoke with the morning sunshine streaming into his face through the branches; birds were singing joy- ously all around him; and bgibiah Aenagt was fresh and fragrant from the previous night’s storm, Ever careful and wary, Buckborn Bill crept through the different parts of the tree, and took ob- servations to make sure that no enemies were lurk- ing near, ere he descended to the ground. From the cottonwood he commanded a fine view of the lake, welch lay calm and placid in the early morning sun- light. Te was at the northern end of it; the opposite termination he was unable to see with the naked eye, But he could see each side, for a long way down, and also the island which Turtle Tom had spoken of. It consisted of four or five acres, or maybe six, of high lan 1 which rolled a and back from the water's edge, and was completely covered with a dense thicket of balsam trees, all of which had at- tained an unusual hight, Upon the surface of the lake and upon the is‘and, there were no signs of human beings—all was quiet and peaceful as ona Sabbath morning, and nature seemed in one of her loveliest moods. “T guess all’s rizht,’’ the Young Scourge said, whenhe had completed his observations. ‘‘ Don’t judge there’s any of the devils around, or I should see some signs of life, and T’dbe all right.” He descended, and spent some moments lying on the ground and stretching out his limbs, which had been cramped during his stay in the tree. He next stole cautiously along the lake-shore to- ward the point onthe side of the lake where he had left Turtle-Tom on the previous night. He did not expec’ to find him there now, but he hoped to regain his rae rifle, On etre? the point he found the weapon, sure enough. standing behind a tree, but careful search failed to discover Turtle Tom. Hither he had been captured by the Press-Gang, or had left the vicinity _ of the lake, After making a breakfast on fish from the lake, roasted over a smokeless fire, Buckhorn Bill spen% theremaincer of the day in resting, in a secluded nook which he discovered in the woods; for he had determined when night came again to know more concerning the mystery which enshrouded the lake. “T pb’lieve that there’s a nest of the devils on that island,” he said. thoughtfully, as he gazed around into the solitude of the woods, au’ ef there is, I’m oing ter find’em out,ef J can. Purty soon the ‘overnment will smell a rat, and be offerin’ a re- ward fer these pilgarlics, and who’s a better right ter if than stim feller about my figure? To be sure, I needn’t be hard up, fer Burnham Ranch and Burn- ham colony orter be fetchin’ in a good round sum of I, wish I had my trusty rifle, - Buckhorn Bill. money every year; but let that slide—et’ll stand offset ag’in’ my old age. Reckon I orter keep alive onmy wits an’ what I kin killin theshape of game.” His mind made up, he was not long in forming a plan of operations. The best point of access to the island was near where he was lounging, the distance heing ed about a mile, Atother points the distance varied, from one and a half miles to two or even three. The day passed slowly, but he was much in need of rest, and when the shadows of night crept over the land and water, he was r.freshed greatly, and prepared for work. € waited until the darkness was as deep as it would be—for a moon would rise late in the evenin; —and then set to work on his projected plan of visi- ting the island. He had no boat, and to swim a mile was not a part of his wish or intention. He was not long, however, in flading a mode of transportation. A few rods up the lake-shore he found a log which had been cut by some woodman’s or surveyor’s ax, and by using Ue he soon had it afloat. Next, with his sheath- nife, he improvised a rude paddle; then, straddling the log, he,set out upon his voyage. The light log moved easily, and he was enabled to make satisfactory headway. But his positron was undesirable, for the reason that he was exposed to the bullets of the enemy, should he be fired upon. But it was yet some disttince ere bullets would or could reach him from the island. ‘ Overhead the stars were thick in the blue vault of heaven, which made a dim, uncertain light below, on the earth and water. “T reckon I'll patent this boat,” Bill chuckled. “Bf she don’t git a rollin’-fit, I reckon I’m all hunki- dori. lof” ‘ ; He cWfanced to fiance back toward the main land, when, what was his great surprise to see a boat put- ting off from shore, evidently in pe of him. There was but one person visible at the oars, but this did not signify that there aight not be more erouching in the bottom of the craft. “Humph! I reckon we’re goin’ ter have kinder of a regatter hayr,’’ the Scourge muttered, as he pulled pie alo at the same time keeping a close watch upon the craft inthe rear. ‘Yas, thar she comes, lickety scoot. “Am I goin’ ter let that galoot overhaul me, an’ me got this start? Oh! no; not ef ther court's ope ion aren’t complicated, Thatchap either’s a whisky spy, which hes bin layin’ fer me, or else he ain’t,an’ ix sum other pilgarlic w’at’s in fer wipin’ out some old score. Good mind to phrenolog'ze his skulp wi’ a lead feeler, but thet wouid like’s not fetch out a gang o’ them distillers, which ain’t ter my likin’, No! I reckon Vl tuck on the elbow-grease, an’ let the chap have sum exercise.” : “Laying to,” as the sailors say, Buckhorn Bill eae with all his strength, and his rude boat moved hrough the water at a lively rate. Every stroke with thé rough bark sent the craft nearer and near: er to the island, But the pursuer had the advantage of a small skiff with a sharp prow, and a good pair of oars; nor did the rower continually have to balance him- self to keep from being dumped over into the lake. He came on at a speed to rapidly gain on Buckhorn Bill, and the Young Scourge was not slow to per- ceive such was the case. “You'd better cum ruther cautious, my festive gander,’ Bill muttered, with a compression of his lips, “fer I ain’t ther most angelic-dispersitioned rooster ye ever didn’t hear tell of.” But the pursuer came on. Bill was able to discover that he was a rough-look- ing customer, and he had no doubt of hisidentity ag one of the Press-Gang. So the Young Scourge brought his boat to a halt; then changed his posi- tion so that he faced the pursuer. “Now, see hayr, you big-headed sucker—you dog- gin’ puke!” he cried, angrily, “jest hold up yer

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Buckhorn Bill, hosses, or I’ll put a red uPer T inter your Phrenologi- kal Journal quicker’n Hell Gate war ruptured. What ‘diye want?” T’ll soon show ye!” growled the fellow, pulling on toward the Scourge. ‘Ruther reckon yer little race isrun, my lad. Put down your shootin’-irons.”” “Nary!” Bill replied, grimly, and the next mo- ment he fired at the approaching rufflan, But before he had time to note the effect of the shot, a lasso dropped suddenly over him, was drawn taut, and he was jerked head-foremost over into the water. He had foes behind, it seemed, as well as in front. CHAPTER X. A VILLAINOUS AGREEMENT—ROYAL RALPH WINS BUT LOSES, We must now return to the little settlement of atterville, and to the cottage home of the trader, Whisky Bill Burdelle. At the close of our third chapter, it will be remem- * bered, we left Mrs. Prescott and Pearl] in a state of » directly. anxiety and alarm, as they saw Burdelle Ee Bato ing the cottage, accompanied by the rowdy loafer, Royal ager “Yes, child, run up-stairs, quick,’’ Mrs. Prescott said, ‘‘and hide in the chimney-closet, for I would not have that Royal Ralph see you again. The very Old Nick, himself, is in the fellow, Ido believe. if Burdelle asks for you, I’ll tell him you’ve stepped out. “But, dear, supposing Burdelle should catch you trying to-deceive him? He would murder you.” “Do not fear for me, child,” the housekeeper re- lied, in her quiet way. ‘ Bill Burdelle knows he hare not offer me violence, even though he curses at me, and threatens. I hold a secret of his, the be- trayal of which would hang him to a limb in short order. Go, now, for they’re coming in and will see ou,” - Snatching a hurried kiss, Pearl ran up-stairs; but aused at the top, a startled expression upon her eatures, . sf he Ralph means me harm,” she whispered to herself, her beautiful eyes dilating with horror, ‘and he is getting Bill Burdelle to help him. Oh! la help me, if I have to fight villains as terrible as they.’ Burdelle and his companion entered the little sit- ting-room of the cottage, where Mrs. Prescott was sitting, oe the whisky-trader motioned Royal Ralph to a seat. “Set down, Stanmere, and we will git to business, Margaret, where is the gal?” “Do you mean Pearl?” asked Mrs. Prescott, trem- bling with fear of what the consequences might be. ‘““Of course I mean Pearl!’ he replied, gruffly. ““Who else d’ye ore Imeant? One’d think to heer ye talk, thet I hed a house full of gals.” * Pearl has stepped out, somewhere,” the reply eame. ‘ Perhaps she will be in soon.” ‘Yas, cuss ye, that’s what ye allus say, but her soon is a couple ef hours, every time. Ef she ain’t coming soon, I'll break your head!” “There is no present hurry about the girl, Bur- delle,’”’ said Royal Ralph, in his smooth, oily tones. “Mebbe you won't need to call her; besides, I’ve seen her once or twice, and know she’s got up in _ good shape, { * Allright, then; just as yousay. Draw yer chair up heer to the table, and we'll compare notes,”’ _ Royal Ralph did as requested, and with a bottle of aghor before them, the two men sat down at the able. : , Burdelle was a man of some five-and-forty years, ‘ith a brawny, iron-wrought form and a dark, dis- reeable countenance, which 9 career of evil and dissipation had made positively repulsive. His eyes were wild, haggard and bloodshot, and an expression of cruelty and sensualism lurked in the corners of his large mouth, His hair and goatee were black | Bae oe pes a 18 and curling; his dress was buckskin, which was old and . Asif to prove that he was a thorough going horderman,he ome conspicuously displayed in his belt a long unsheathed knife, and a heavy pair of aval Bat ee parentl hirty Oy: iph was a} ntly not over thi Cars of age, witha willatnousicokisg face, the ronbinent features of which were a long nose, bead-like black eyes, @ pointed black mustache, and a low, beetling forehead with shaggy brows; and a form of medium hight, well fattened by the excessive use of whisky, and the negligence of labor of any sort. He was attired in buckskin, with more pretensions to taste than was observed by Whisky Bill, and wore simply a revolver in his belt. As ‘soon as the two were seated at the table, Whisky Bill turned to Mrs, Prescott: “You can go out, Margaret,” he said, i ‘“We don’t keer fer yer company, at present.” “T care not whatyou care for, ill Burdelte,” was. the housekeeper’s firm reply. ‘I was in this room before you came, and I shall not leave it.” “ What! do you dare—” “Yes, I dare to defy you, Bill, and you know # wellenough. IfIwereto—” _ “There! there! enough of that, you old she-cat!”’ he growled, balictyin' ss ‘*Stanmere, we will proceed to business. You say I owe you five thousand dollars, which I lost at gam- bling, while I was drunk?” ‘ Hxactly,” the rowdy replied, lighting a cigar. “You played big and lost, an’ eee me a paper morigage on yer house an’ prairie land fer the amount.” ; “Where is this mortgage?” 7 en I’ve got itsafely put away, whereI can soon get at it.” ; “In yer pocket, no doubt.” fee ion’t matter, Are ye reddy ter redeem it? ‘Wal, we'll see about thet. Yoused ef I'd give e the gal ter do with as ye pleased, you'd give me ack the mortgage, eh?” “‘Tsed I'd give you back the mortgage, pa ¥ you made me the gal’s guardian, an’ tol you. cum by her—who were her parents.” *Tcum by her natteral enough, when she war my first wife’s only child, an’ I her father.”* ‘*Get out! Royal Ralph said, contemptuously. **You’re no more her father than I am.” “ But I am, though.” “Get out, say. I know better, and that ends the matter. The girl’s no offspring of yours, nor are youin any way related to her. I think I can trace me how © her identity through her features by a family resem-— blance. And, therefore, she is valuable to me—more so than your mortgage.” g : “ Ah! indeed; but you haven't got her yet!" the whisky-trader sneered, with evil triumph. “Well, if you don’t give her to me on trade I shall foreclose the mortgage.” ‘*Foreclose and be deviled!’ Whisky Bill growled, fiercely. “You get me mad, and I’ jest about chaw yer ear off.” “T have no wish or intention to get you mad,” Royal Ralph replied, calmly. ‘I only wish to bar- ter with you. You must needs possess the mort- gage, or lose your home. I want the girl for my own ~ purposes. Whisky Bill drummed reflectively upon the table. in the meanwhile keeping an eye both upon Royal Ralph and Mrs. Prescott, who, though seemingly — ae busy with her needle-work, was pale and trem-_ ng. ‘Waal, I'll tell you what we'll do.” he said, after a few minutes. rye atween us, an’ throw dice—three hosses. Ther one thet’ wins is the winner, of course. If I win, you give me ther mortgage, or I'l] cut pe throat. If you win you shall hev the girl and the mortgage, | also or slit my weasand. reeable?” i ee “*¥ reckon it’s about fair,” Royal Ralph rep! Can't we make a dicker?” cs “We'll divide thet bottle o’ stiff old _ y 3 ; = a

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20 _ grimly, ‘‘ Break the nose off’m that p’izen, and let’s get that part of the re ge done.” “Tl stump ye to put. doWn a quart apiece!’ the trader said, uncorking that bottle and producing an- other from the ideboard, “ Et’ll make our nerves steadier for the bizness before us.” And he laughed as if the proposal was liberal— and it was, in one sense, 3 “You can if you choose,’ Royal Ralph replied, with a cunning smile, ‘but a pint will do for me. Being of smaller stature, my capacity is na‘jurally not as large as yours.” ‘*Oh! that’s nothing!” the trader remarked, with aguffaw. “TI once know’d a little fellernamed La Muck, who ked put down six gallons of the raw stuff wi’out winkin’.” —. The bottle was broken and in a short time its con- tents were gone. Then Whisky Bill produced a d.ce- box and dice, five in. number, ‘*You can throw first,’ he said, ‘‘an’ ther game’s ter be three hosses.”” Royal Ralph shook the dice and dextrously rolled them out upon the table. Four aces lay revealed, and one tray. In the second flop he made the tray an ace. ‘‘Wive aces is hard to beat, my covey!’’ he said, with a cou _ Whisky Bill did not reply, but threw four trays and an ace; taking up the ace, he made it five trays. “Kirst horse for me,” the rowdy said, coolly. “ Go ahead.” : Again they shook; result: five aces for Whisky. ‘Bill; three aces and two deuces for Stanmere; sec- ond horse awarded Whisky Bill. The third horse was won by Stanmere, for he threw five aves at the first flop, to Whisky Bill’s deuces! : “There!” he cried} triumphantly, ‘ didn’t. I win the gal fair?” “Yes, perfectly fair,’ Whisky Bill growled, an- ily, “and she’s yours to do with as you please. of oe connections I'll tell you fees, Be 2 “All right;"give me the gal an’ let her history RO to the devil|” the rufflan rowdy cried, eagerly. ‘Where is she? Here's your old mortgage—take it an’ give me the gal.” “fT reckon she's up-stairs, thar,’ answered Bur- delle, with a glance toward the stairway; ‘least- wise I’ve seen the old woman, heer, cast anxious glances thet way. Ye can go upan’ see fer yerself.” With an expression_of devilish jubilance upon hig evil face, Royal Ralph rose to his feet, but Mrs. Prescott also arose, and confronted hiin. “Stop, you villain! You shall not go up there, Fly! fly! Pearl, for your life!” she screamed; but the next instant she was felled to the floor by a heavy blow. and Royal Ralph Sprane up the stairway. Whisky Bill followed at his leisure, and found es the villain in a terrible rage, as he rushed furiously around. “She’s gone! she’s gone!” he roared, swearing frightfully; ‘‘she’s not here, and you know where she is, Burdelle,” - “JT reckon I xen tell you,” the trader replied, grimly, pointing through an open window, far out - upon the prairie beyond the settlement, where a horsewoman waa dashing rapidly along. ‘‘'That’s yer bird, ef I aia’t out o’ reckoning. She’s heard yer plot wi’ me, «.a’ hes took ter hoss. Ef you catch er, you'll hev ter git up before breakfast, fer thar ein’t them around heer as can catch her.” : “But Til catch her, though!’’ Royal Ralph cried, and leaping through th: window to the ground, he bounded away. Springing upon a horse which stood before the villuge store, he pee the spurs into the animal’s flauks, and dashed away in pursuit. When he gained the prairie, he saw that Pearl was fully two miles away, and also that darkness and an oncoming stors: were brooding. But his steed was apparently fresh, and he had strong hopes overtaking the minaweay, And Pear) of + 2 net Buckhorn Bill, EE a eenmmeenmmmmmmemntatieomeel She was urging Pet, her Indian pony, to the very top of his speed in her endeavors to escape. he saw al Ralph coming in pursuit the mo- ment he left the settlement, and knew that it must be a desperate race—knew that it was to be a race for life and liberty with her, But, although she had the alvantage of distance over her pursuer, she saw that Pet was uot fore for a great deal more work, She had ridden him well that afternoon, and knew that if his strength lasted against the fresh: ness of Royal RuIph’s horse it would be a miracle, On—on, she dashed over the prairie, using both spurs to urge the faithful pony, glancing back ozcasional y only to perceive that the pursuer was lessening the intervening distance. An hour passed, and darkness fell silently over the prairie, and the last pine Pearl caught of her foe was startling and horrifying to her. He was now scarcely a mile away. “Oh! God help me,” the Fairy of Squatterville muttered, as she peered back through the deepening gloom. ‘I am an outcast and fugitive on the face of the earth, even sold from myhome. Where shall I go—what can Ido to evade this monster who now claims me as his ward?” There was no answer to her question, but the hard breathing and thud of Pet's hoofs upon the turf, ; At last a thought struck her; she would turn in another direction, and in_the dense darkness Royal Ralph would miss her. She therefore turned Pet’s head to the westward, and urged him on, desperately determined to eseape if possible. ‘On—on; the storm overhead threatened to break at every moment; then, she galloped fearlessly down a Lf es valley, where a camp-fire was blazing ly. ; carcely before she knew it, her pony was seized ne the bit, and hurried forward into the camp, where a score or more of rough, villainous-looking men were lounging, all of whom were attired in crimson suits, and armed to the teeth. ‘Hello, Armstrong, what hev ye got there?’ de- manded a portly, thick-set man, with long beard and. half-mask to hide his features, as he rose to his feet —‘‘a girl, by Jupiter!” “Yes, captain, a reg’lar stunner. I found her back hayr, a-ridin’ as if she war chased by the Old Nick hisself.” ‘““Who are you, young lady?” the portly captain asked, drawing near. _ ‘Tam Pearl, the adopted daughter of Bill Burdetle, of Squattervills,” was the faint reply, and poor Pearl shrunk instinctively from the gaze of the redly gleaming eyes through the mask, “Bh? Burdelle’sdaughter? Well, that is strange. — What sent you off here?” Pearl related her story briefly, and looked around _ into the grim faces, supplicatingly. “ Well, hore’s aye a romance, I declare, and T rea'ly am surprised,” said the captain. ‘‘ My name's Coffin, miss, and these are my men. All I cando for you is to send you with one of my men to my mother’s ranch, about ten miles from here. There you would be safe.” : “Oh! I will go, then!” Pearl cried, unsuspicious of Gene euramete to escape the villain who is hunting me!’ Captain Coffin accordingly ordered one of his Prairie Pirates to mount, and convey the fugitive to his mother’s ranch. The-man chosen, bowed, and Jeft the camp, but soon returned upon a fine-looking horse, already equipped for the journey. : ut, just at this juncture, hoof-strokes were heard, and =r Ralph galloped boldly down.-inte the camp. hat did it mean? ‘ * CHAPTER XI. CAPTAIN COFFIN AND MAJOR STERL NG ME.« “AEVIEW ING THE PAST. . f None seemed more agitat»d at the Royal Ralph, than the portly chief appearance of the Whisky. >

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« MS wae ne SSS Buckhorn Bill. a atest ott Seen easlise o aeeee ee ao NE Ring, So ier Coffin. He started perceptibly at the advent of the villain, and alow, muttered execraticn escaped his Hipae Royal Ralph rode boldly forward, and raised his hat, with a smile, to poor Pearl, who was trembling and very pale. ’“Good-evening, fair lady.” he said, a peculiar glitter in his evi eyes. ‘‘ I hope you are not @ny the worse for the interesting little race we had. Really, Tam quite ashamed of the poor ee of my animal, and untill saw this fire-light down here, I quite despaired of finding you. You're mounted still, I perceive—perhaps you and your companion were coming in search of me; eh?” “Oh! no;” and Pearl cast the villain a withering lance, ‘‘ we were not going to hunt for wolves. ou needn’t have chased me, Ralph Stanmere, for I will not go with you.” % “ Ah! my beauty, but you must ; I shall insist upon it, for you know I won you fairly from Whisky Bill and you are mine. If you are fatigued, we wi camp somewhere in this neighborhood until morn- ing.” “No! Iwill not camp with La anywhere. You have no claim upon me, and I will not go with ou.” ‘But IT swear you shall!’’ he cried, fiercely, gnaw- ing at his mustache. “Till have youif I have to fight Satan and all bis imps.” He plunged the spurs into the bleeding flanks of his animal, and rode nearer ‘to Pearl, but the pirate who was to be her conductor, quickly intercepted ‘im. * Hold, Harvey Bouton!” cried a stern, deep voice, and Royal Ralph started in alarm—*‘ hold, where you are, for you come to the wrong Ey to enforce your villainous designs. Whisky Bill’s daughter is under my protection, and you cannot have her. Do you comprehend?” It was Sore Coffin who spoke, and he stood at Royal Ralph’s side, with revolver in his grasp. “Who are you?’ the rowdy demanded, boldly, ““T won this girl fairly, and shall have her.” “No, I think not, Dwellyn, you ride ahead with the young lady, and take her to the place I directed. Be careful. aud fulfill your trust faithfully, and you shall be rewarded. If this young braggadocio at- tempts to follow you, Pl attend to his case in the usual style.”” And the click! click! of the captain’s revolver fllustrated what that style was. A With a bow, Dwellyn led the way out of the camp, and, clad to escape Royal Ralph, whom she was Satisfied was an unprincipled knave, Pearl followed, on?’ the back of her pony. f course she knew nothing as to where she was being taken, but she felt that she could not fare worse than if she had suffered herself to go with Royal Ralph. As for him, be could only vent his ill-feelings in oaths, for, covered by the steady aim of Captain Coffin’s revolver, he dared not move in pursuit, “You see that might is power, Bouton,” the Whisky Chief observed dryly, as he held the young ruffian in abeyance. “You said you’d have the girl, yet you are allow- ing her to slip nicely through your fingers. You see, I secpenized youthe minute you rode into camp, an I concluded to baffle you.” “Who are you?” Royal Ralph growled, his curi- osity getting the better of his anger. ‘‘ No one around these parts knows me by that name—’ “ Pxcept me,” Coffin finished, with a grim smile, "Come, you may as well dismount and accept the hospitali jes of my camp.” 4 “Curse you, no. I'll follow the girl!” was the re- ply, and the next moment the ruffien had dextrously ung himself out of the saddle into the grass. Cof- fin fired, but was not quick enough, for Royal Ralph oe with the agility of asnake, crawled away from 2 camp. =_. y “*Quic: gees 1” roared the Whisky Chief, furious- ly, “after the accursed villain, and bring 4 Zine all Ka ce ou te ~~ eR ee him’ back, 21 dead or alive, Five hundred dollars to those whe him!” ca Tastantiy there was a yelling onse, and the camp was deserted, while a score of eager outlaws thrashed about over the prairie in search of the es- caped ruffian. But, vain was their search. At the end of an hour they all returned to carbs empty- bended; for not a trace of Royal Ralph had been ‘ound. : With wonderful craft and cunning, he had sue ceeded in eluding them, and even now was striding away over the prairie, jubilant over his escape. “It’s too bad!’ Captain Coffin growled, * but it can’t be helped. I suppose. However, keep yer eyes open, and I will reward the one who will shoot the scoundrel on sight.” \ The oe Major Sterling’s arrival at the camp of the Red Rifle Team was a pleasant one on the broad rairies, althoygh the sun emitted a breath of ex- reme heat, for there was a freshening breeze blow- ing, and everything eicbir gh to nature seemed enjoying the tranquillity of the day. After Captain Ned had seen that a rousing meal of fresh venison was prepared, Major Ster ing satirfted his eppeute and, thanking all for the kind atten- tion bestowed upon him, he stretched himself ous for a nap, in the shade of the willow motte, close to the camp. He ao peacefully until about sunset, and then mounted his horse with the expressed intention of taking a little gallop over the prairie for exercise, “i'd advise-you not to venture too far from camp, major,” said Stockton, as the old gentleman was about to ride away. ‘ There’s a gang of outlaws in this neighborhood, belonging to a gigantic whisky- ring, who do not hesitate at the commission of any crime. “Ay, ay! lam not unaware of that, my hoy: but Iam armed, and do not expect any danger. How- ever, I will Keep wateb.”” “You had ;_.and return, too, before the shadows of night fall over the prairies, for ’tis then that these vultures prey about.” Whereupon the major smiled understandingly and rode away. He was a thorough equestrian, and a gallop to him was always invigorating, while to many it is favigu- ing and depressing. - ee His animal, too, was a fine one ard easy tc ride, and the major rode gayly me: over the prairic un-. til he was far beyond sight of tockton’s camp. : Then when in a de: p, natural ravine, which would. © et to have been plowed by some mighty thunder. bolt, he recognized the fact that night was settling over the earth. swiftly a “Well, well! it is strange that my thoughtsshoujd »— have been so preoccupied as net to notice where i was fe Se he muttered, gazing around him into the gathéting gloom. ‘Probably I shall have diffi- culty in finding my wend back to-camp. Ugh! this — is a lonesome den, and I wonder my horse ever ven- tured down here.” % ‘‘Things which are invisible sometimes lead one on to the brink of death,” said a cool, mocking yoice; and looking behind him with a startled ex- clamation, the major saw a horse and rider, not h If a dozen yards away, come to a halt. The man was burly, dressed in crimson buckskin, and armed. and Major Sterling instantly conjectured that he was one of the whisky outlaws of whom Stockton had warned him. ; He was considerably startled, but too old a soldier to lose his self-composure. Turning his - horse around so that he faced the stranger, he moved his hand toward bis belt, but.aclick! click! in the direc- tion of the masked: outlaw, warned him to Jesist. “You'd better not eo cool voice spoke, “fer “tain’t at all necessary to arouse the echoes of the night with any loud reperts Old friends need not quarrel nor need they come te serious blows,” : = 4 ea mh Sk ae ae, your pill-box!” the same

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Buckhorn Bill. Major Sterling scanned the man ahead of him as ‘closely as the darkness would permit as he answered: ‘*T do not know what you mean, nor canI assign any motive for your meeting me here. If you want money, I'll permit you to take all you'll find upon my | eeenre : i c ‘Ido not want money, David Sterling—that is the least of all my wants. I came here, because it is the first time I have allowed myself to see or meet you in fourteen years!” Peas The major started up in his stirrups, his face grown ashen white ina single moment. __ “My God! can it be you—Lewis Sterling?’ he gasped, pearls while again his hand sought the razion of his belt. “Yes, 1am Lew Sterling, your beloved brother, or Captain Coffin, Chief of the Press-Gang!”’ the outlaw repliel, with a strange chuckle. “There! there! Don’t meddle with your weapons, I say, for I’ve got the drop on you, fine, Just be quiet and manifest your docility. and we'll get onallrizht.” . ~“No! it will never be all right, between you and me, devil that you are!”’ the white-haired officer re- plied, fiercsly. ‘My hatred for you is too deep for expression, and will bs everlasting, even though birth has made you a brother of mine.” ‘Ah! those are hard words, David. What wrong have I ever done that you should thus hate me, the eelbings of your kin now living? I remember no- ing]? “ What! Remember nothing?” the major fairly yelled, a terrible passion rising in his heart and words—‘‘dare you sav, base hell-hound, that you remember nothing of wrong you have done me? Bah! I seo your drift—you would mock at my misery, because of the atrociousness of your past villainy. Mun, Ihave followed you all these four- teen years, for revenge. At last we have met—met, and here we must fight.” * Oh! well, if it’s fight you’re after, I reckon Ican aceommodate you.” Coffin said, grimly. ‘But, first, I want you to rehearse the drama, to see if your memory is just and accurate. Time, you know, makes great changes, both in body, mind and me- mory. * Yes, but do for think I could ever forget? Never! Why rehearse the story?—’tis only one of great bit- terness to ms. You remember it all—how; in our young manhood, we, twin brothers, fell in love with thasame belle of our native village; how youat first wore the favored one, until by your constant inebria- tion and badness you fell from+grace, and J took’ ‘our place in the affections of Clara Stanford. She ‘ound that I had at least the promise of manhood in m2, and took m2a3a husband and protector. Ons short year were we married; then after the birth of our twin babes, the Rsbellion broke out, and my patriotic spirit was restless until my dear wile be- cam> enthused, and bade me leave her and the chil. dren and go ani fight for the country of my birth. T kissed them good-by—forever, as it turned out, and enlisted in the regular arm of the Union. ‘*T was absent a matter of two years, and then re- turned home on a furlough. That was fourteen years ago this month. Ah! God, what a home I funi—desolats, and wifeless and childless! My Ciara, they told me, was dead—had been murdered! an l was now four months under the sod. Of my children nothing was known, except that thev had disappeared at’ the time of my wife’s death. Foul murder and abduction had been perpetrated, but upon no one could suspicion b2 safely attached—not unil I missed you from the village, and was told that you had left the place three months before for the West. Then I suspected you, knowing of your past defeat and terrible joalousy—suspected you. and evew to hate you with a deadly rancor. And if if could bs, that hate assumed three-fold proportions when I found the letter you had left for me, declar- ing your agency in the work, and that it was only the beginning of your revenge. Fora time I believe Iwas crazed, but I went back to the army and fought like a devil inspired, until the war ended. Then, I turned my footsteps westward in search of you.” “ And at last you have found me,” Captain Coffin said, with a malicious chuckle; ‘and yet what does if avail you? I have you in my power, thanks to this revolver, and to raise a hand against me on forfeits your life. So be peaceful, for [ do not wis your blood upon my hands, because I have dipped theny deep enough in crime already.” ‘**Tell me where are my children?’ Major Sterlin said, watching the outlawed brother narrowly ; *‘ tel me where, and deliver them up tome. Then, and only then, will I let the dead past bury the past.” “Tell you!” the Whisky Captain sneered malig- nantly; *‘*no!—not if 1 were to die this coming mo- ment. Through them it ismy purpose to strike you a deeper blow, Ihave them in my possession yet— both grown up to beauteous womanhood, They would make: society belles, if- you could introduce them to the East. But you cannot have that plea- sure, for I havea horrible fate in store for each. Pearl, the Leena shall marry one of the most re- pulsive and brutal wretches I can single out on tho whole border, and Molly shall become the squaw of old Red Nose, the Sioux warrior—a chief with worse apaliaes than Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull com- ned.” “You demon!” the major gasped, writhing in his saddle, ‘‘ Would that God might strike you dead where you sit!” : “But He won’t, Brother David, forl and He are on friendly terms. Now, then, I want to advise you to forever abandon the hope of getting pos- session of your children, or injuring me, for it is animpossibility. Go back to your eastern home in your coming dotage, and die in the Lord. Should f ever happen out that way, I'll have a fence-rail erected at your head as a token of my memory and esteem. But, whatever you do, be careful that ou fall not in with me again, nor with my men, ‘or your life shall pay the forfeit. The girls you shall never seo, if I have to cut their throats and ere in the bottom of Loon Lake. Adieu, avid 1° And suddenly wheeling bis horse, the Whisky Chief dashed into the timber which flanked one side of the rayine, and was gone. Major Sterling pulled his revolver and fired, but without effect, as a wild, exultant yell proclaimed. Captain Coftin had escaped, unharmed. With an expression of undaunted resolution, ths major rode - out of the ravine, and galloped rapidly toward the camp of the Red Rifle Team. CHAPTER XI. A FISH THAT BROKE THE LINE—AVENGING THE PAST. —BUT CAUGHT AT LAST, ; - Wuen Buckhorn Bill found that it was impossible to save himself from being jerked over into the water, he caught his breath, and was he Bc for the bath. Over he was ‘yanked’ by the lasso, and down he went into the water out of sight. But, ever ready of wit and quick of action, he - was not idle, even while under the water, He knew that the enemy now had a lasting hold upon him, and that unless he broke it, his fate was sealed. So many times had he eluded the whisky ruffians, he bélieved they would instantly put him to death, as soon as he was surely in their power, Fortunately, the rope had drawn tight about his body, just above his elbows, leaving the lower part of his arms free; and as he sunk beneath the cool waves, he quickly darted his right hand to his belt, and drew his knife. Sweepingit around as far as he could reach, he was suceessful in finding the cord, _ A blow severed it, and he sunk deeper, and knew that he was once more free! He began rapidly to rise toward the surface, but made desperate efforts aft swimming, and when he did come up, it was some distance from where he — went down, : z

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Buckhorn’ Bill. But he was not yet out of danger—indeed, a horri- ble discovery stared him in the face! ; From every direction men were swimming toward him—human sharks, by the dozens—he could faintly distinguish them, and also saw the boats of the whisky-ring floating idly about, here and there. Despairing of ever catching the dreaded Scourge by boat, the ruffians had taken to water, and_formin; a covey Ua circle around him, had him nicely caged. Buckhorn Bill perceived this at a glance, and for once was forced to admit to himself that the chances for life were slim, He had never been in quite so close a trap, and it was a puzzle to him to know how he was to get out. He had yet his knife, and one revolver in his bosom pouch, but was powerless to use them, for it required the use of both hands to keep him afloat, to say nothing of fighting. The approaching ruffiany were in the same fix, but there were enough of them to take him without raising a weapon. A glance around, and Buckhorn Bill espied his log conveyance, upon which he had ventured out upon thelake. It was but a few yards off; half a dozen perhaps, while the ped Sade foes averaged a dis- tance of thirty or forty yards. In that same glance the Boy Scourge also made another discovery, A. boat was coming out toward them, from the eastern shore, but there was no one visible in it, although the oars worked regularly in their locks! At another time, Bill’s curiosity would have been aroused, but now he did not give the matter thought, as he swam swiftly for the log, and gained and crawled upon it, after which he wasted a precious moment in giving an ear-splitting blast upon his buckhorn. In moments of triumph this was a never-failing habit of his. A savage yell followed from the Press-Gang, but they were powerless to do aught but yell, for the stiff evening breeze which was blowing out across the water, had carried their boats out of easy reach, And this was a point in favor of Buckhorn Bill. So long as his ammunition lasted, he would hold his enemies at his mercy! , IIE his buekhorn, he quickly opened. his water-tight breast-pocket, and out came his precious revolver to do its deadly work, Tirst he took those nearest, as they came, until every cartridge in his seven-shooter was emptied, and therefore had seven of the whisky roughs sunk forever beneath the waves. But, Buckhorn Bill fought not these human sharks alone, for death-yells rent, the air which his bullets did not occasion; and yet there were no reports of other weapons than his own! He knew the reason, without giving a glance of in- quiry around, Death Shadow, the mysterious avenger, was near, with his noiseless gun; it was his skiff which Bill had seen approaching from the eastern shore. He did glance around, however, after he had emptied his revolver, but though he saw the boat, and the gleain- ing barrel and muzzle of a rifle, he could see nothing of the avenger, but the top of a bear-skin cap. But, swift as had been the retribution which had overtaken the outlaws, those remaining unscathed were still pressing forward, and some of them were not a dozen yards away. Then he heard a quick re- ort, close at hand, felt asharp, stinging sensation in ithe region of his temple—staggered. lost his balance eae all became a blank as he sunk once more in the When he awoke, he gave a gasp—it was like com- Ing out of a draam. He was not in the water, nor on the ground of the forest or prairie, Instead, be was lying upon a rude, straw-filled mattress, which was supported by an iron bedstead, in a little room, with two small win- dows up near the ceiling, and a door. The floor was of rough timber, unplaned, and the furniture con- ‘sisted Df buta common deal-table, on which a candle dimly burned, and.a single chair. # ~—— The room had evidently been made for a prison, as the door was thick, heavy, and banded with iron, and there were iron bars at the windows. F Buckhorn Bill noticed these things with an observ- ing Blanes, as he sat upon the’edge of his cot and — wondered greatly where he was. “T reckon these ’ere surroundings belong to the Press-Gang, an’ thet I’m in their den!’ he muttered, rubbing away a few drops of blood that had coagu- lated upon his forehead, from_the bullet bruise he had received upon the lake. ‘“‘ Wish I knowed where I am, anybow. Seems like a pee in heer, and likely itis, S*pect I'll hev a visit from Captain Cof- fin, directly, and then ll get blessed accordin’ to St. Matthew.” Feeling tired and weak, he did not immediately arise, but waited until he felt more rested. Then he arose to his feet, and began a closer observation of his prison. As he walked to and fro, the floor be- neath his feet rocked, which convinced him that his prison was upon water—indeed, he could hear the water la ping against the outside. On trying the door he found it to be securely fast- ened ae the other side, which was convincing proof that he was in a prison. “ Guess they’ve got me tight enough this time,’ he muttered, as he stood still and gazed around within — the limits of the apartment, at loss how to act. “ Durned if I know what to do. It’s mighty certain — that it wou’t be healthy for me to remain here long, unless the whisky devils are more lenient than I ex- pect. And the walls and floors are too strong for — me to break through.” Going back to the cot, he sat down and buried his — face in his hands. Generally he was quick to plan, but now he could think of none. His prison was in- vincible. ; “ Wonder how old Death Shadow got out of the muss, and who the old varmint is?” he muttered. “T reckon between us thet we released about a aolin would rest the scope of his vision. As his pri on stood, the two windows looked out the two lengths of the boat, or barge in the westward and in the eastward direc: tions, he judged by the stars, and reflection of moon- light ae the island, which was at one end of the } float. He decided that the strange craft was lying on water of a ‘‘hide” or bayou at the western side | of the island, To this bayou there wasa channel entrance in the shape of an §, inverted, of sufficient | width to admit of the passage of the barge. The shores of the passage, however, were thickly tit bered with a mixture of balsams and reeds of extra ordinary hight, so that from the western shore 0} Loon Lake the existence of the snug pocket o! bayou would not have been suspected. At the east- . @ shore, was built a low pier, the top of it rang even with the deck of the barge, Upon this there we several barrels standing. “At last the secret of the whisky distillery is

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24 _ Jonger a mystery,” Buckhorn Bill muttered, excited- ly. * It is located upon this isolated island, and this barge is used to transport the whisky ashore. Hurra! Pn now glad I escaped death to meet imprisonment, here, for it has been a revelation,” __ He watched for awhile until he grew tired; then ' descended from his perch, and replaced the chair and table, “Tf the yarmints would only’ve left me my shoot- in’-irons and knife, ’d make et sultry for’em yet,” he muttered, “* but Thain’: got so much as a weapon, T wonder how T shall manage it, for I’m bound not to ais iu, as long’s there’s any hope.” He sat down again, and knitted his brows, thought- fully, his plain, good-natured face growing hand- some, unconsciously, in his eager devotion to the studying of the problem of what course was best to - pursue. | : The night wore on slowly, and it seemed as if it re- fe: te exchanging places with morning, so earnest- ly didit hang on, But at last the light came in ‘through the barred windows, and Buckhorn Bill knew that dawn was breaking. 2 He raised his head, a look of resolve upon his BEACS: “Some of the gang’ll be coming, soon,” he mut- - tered, ‘‘and it’s my only chance to escape death, though I don’t know if I can make a sucetssful if @orpse.”’ : Ale however made Te Sart contre it was, as he had ' said, his only chance for prolonged life, Picking open the wound upon his forehead, he allowed the blood to ooze out and. down upon his cheek. Then he laid himself down upon the couch, in a position Similar to that in which he had found himself lying, when he regained hts consciousness. ‘ _ Then he waited. It was his hope that some of the outlaws would come soon, and then, on seeing that ' he was insensible, would leave the door open, or | mayhap give him a chance to grab a weapon and fight for his Jife and Lae : Nor ws he disappointed in their coming. An hour of waiting and suspense dragged by; then there was a tramp of heavy-booted feet, the door was un- A partly opened, and a shaggy head thrust into i) ty) 3 - * Come in, pals,’’ said the owner of the head, the next moment. ‘The boy's a ‘stiff,’ I guess—layin’ ‘Jest w’ar we put him.” : _ Rather stealthily the leader, Captain Gregg, and ‘three other ruffians crept into the room; but the: ocked the door behind them and stood aloof, wit. awn revolvers. « Yas, he's deader'n a door-nail,” Gregg observed, “concealing a shudder. ‘I know'd et, when we fetched him in,” f _ ‘ What’ll ye do wi’ him?—toss him inter the lake?” ‘et—not till ther chief returns.” id him he was not to escape, yet. Ee laid for some time, revolving different plang erin his mind, but settling on none, definitely, At last he arose, and first drank of, and then washed jn a bucket of fresh water which he found at he head of his cot, He was just finishing, and d ‘ng his face, when he heard a key grate in the lock, id saw the door of bis prison cautiously open. , CHAPTER XIII. z TURTLE TOM AND ELEPHANT TOM. wuRW had been an inactive witness to the capture Buckhorn Bill, by the Press-Gang, upon the lake “night; who was no less 4 person than Turtle whom, it will be remembered, Billleft on the n shore of the lake, on the night he was first coyed by the outlaws. he young trapper had been forced to leave the ‘nborhood, because of the presence of so many esis ae a mats Sind fs iy kay Buckhorn Bill, foes, and had scouted about in the adjacent woods until the following night, when he had emerged upon the northern shore, just in time to witness the scene in which Buckhorn fell from the log upon being wounded, and was gobbled up and borne away to ae island by the human sharks who had surrounded 1m, Efforts had also been made by the outlaws to cap- ture the mysterious avenger, old Death Shadow, but in his boat he had quickly hee them at distance, and beer gee far down the lake. , After seeing the outlaws sts eee upon the Bal- sam Island, Turtle Tom turned sorrowfully away from the shore back into the forest aisles, where the moonlight occasionally made long bars of light. ** It’s too bad that Buckhorn should go under,”’ he muttered, ‘* for he’s about as square sort of fellow as there is along the border; but I don’t see how I'm to go to his rescue alone, lve had my experi- ence on that accursed island, an’ ain’t so jolly to renew it,’’ and here a sliadow stole over the hand- some features of the young trapper. ‘ST can’t b’lieve Bill’s more’n stunaed, an’ ef he ain’t, ’tain’b likely they’ll finish him wp until Coffin goes back to head-quarters, Ere that time, I must contrive to reseus Bill somehow. I suspect they'll cage him on the old barge, or else take him up into the distil- lery. It must be pretty near time, too, for them to make a vn,” ‘““ if ye mean by thet their race is purty near run, T do solemnly agree wi’ ye!’ spoke a voice. and a heavy hand slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Did ye see ’em scoop in Buckyhoi'n William, Tomassetty?” “Yes, I saw ’em,”’ the young trapper replied wheeling around. “Hello! Old Elephant, by all that’s joyful! Jove! you’1e the last man I expected to meet. How are you?” . , “Fat and healthy, Tom, but alas! fallen frum my mission 0’ tryin’ ter Christianize Injuns an’ white eusses ter ther common level uv a scout and skulp- tanner. Why, Tomassetty dear, ef ye’d seen ther hooman skulps I’ve tuk durin’ ther last two a’nums, ye’d be skeerd. I manyfacier ther hide inter sham- my-skins an’ use ther hair ter make false mus- taches with fer young men ag can’t raise ’em. But where’ve you bin this Year or so? Don’t remember of seein’ you.” a “No. You are the second one that has seen me since a year ago. Ive been serving out an appren- ticeship at making barrels aiid bungs and whisky,” with a wave of his hand tc ward the island, and a bitter laugh, ‘*What! you hain’t bin ont’ o’ ther victims o” Cap Coffin’s Press-Gang, hev ye, 1”o0mas?’ “I have, unfortunately;.and only escaped a few days ago, though I’ve been tryin’ faithfully ever since 1 was forced into ther toils. But of this enough, until some other time, You saw the devils get Buckhorn Bill?” E : ‘Lordy, yes! an’ et r’iled iny_ blood so thet et boiled up-an’ e’ena’most sloped over. Reckon ef my ae ked_hev spit Ler co1apliments thet fur, I should hey disregarded ther |ioly commandments, an’ made a few more human stiffs. Poor Billiam! he was ther pure quill, cl’ar vhrough ’n’ through, war Bill.” ‘ “A fine fellow, and one to be /vitied, forit is a hard rub to lose one’s parents, Elephant; I know it by experience, To be sure mine warn’t fu’st-class— that is, warn’t educated up to the top-notch, nor high-toned, like sum, but they war good, all the same, an’ many a red nigger’s bif; the dust in pay fer their slaughter. But, Elephant, du you believe that Bill’s dead?” “Dunno, T’omas; kinder appeaiv'1 to me thet he epee in ther natteral fashion.” “Y know; but I don’t think ht was more than stunned, or else the Press-Gang wouldn't have - touched him,” f ‘“Yas—mebbe ye’re right there.” \ “And in the case that he’s aliv se must ge te his rescue.” ~

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Buckhorn Bill, ee ee * Exactly. We ken’t let ther lad be ehawed up by them onmannerly galoots. Ef ye’ve bin on the island, 1 reckon ye know how the land lays.” * “Yes, We cannot go alone—must have a larger foree.” “Then, I've jist a prime ijeer, scooped up frum ther depths uv my kernoodleum, Thar’s a party 0° . chaps camped out back here on the prairie, what's bin sent down heer by the Goveynerment, ter hunt down these illicit distillers, and their leader’s the young detective, Captain Ned Stockton. He an’ Peo Bill used ter be friends a couple years ago, an’ you bet Ned’ll be glad ter give us a lift.” $ ‘Your plan is good. -Iamslightly acquainted with Stockton myself. Shall we at once go for them?” * “No, not. till mornin’; daylight is best for our pur- pose. So let’s camp down heer, and wait. I’ve got a little doekyment I want to show ye.” Searching for a time in the belt_of dense forest, they at last found a_ secluded little hollow in the shade of a huge shelving rock, where all was of midnight darkness. Turtle Tom built a little blaze of dry twigs, and then the two men threw them- selves upon the bed of leaves, which covered the ground. : ‘*Heer’s the dockyment IT mentioned,” said O'd Elephant, producing a crumpled sheet of note-paper, an handing itto Turtle Tom. ‘SI manyfactered a stiff back yere to-night, and found this in ther chap’s pocket. Reckon mebbey you ken decipher them en-tracks, eh?” “Yes,” said the young trapper, smiling, “I fortu- nately amin this secret. This paper is the dispatch of the Whisky Ring. These _hieroglyphics and scrawls are printed from an electrotyped plate in the hands of the President of the league at old fort Alexander, He supplies Coffin and every acting member of the Ring with packages of these papers. What you see here is simply t> blind and puzzle you —the writing is in milk, on the other side.” Holding the paper over the heat of the blaze, the trapper soon had all the writing drawn out, visible to the naked eye. The following was the message, which he read aloud: “Caprain Corrin:—A day or two after you re- eeive this, an emigrant wagon-train will (as usual) camp on the eastern shore of Loon Lake. They are aoe and needy, and if you can give them anything, |. 0 it, cautiously and expeditiously, and send them aay se PEWS Re? ‘““Waall waall” observed pippene drawing away at his pipe, ‘‘ what co et mean?” “Mean? It means that the usual’ wagon-train which transports the illicit whisky to the Northern Pacifle Railroad will soon arrive here upon the lake- shore for their load. But we must make it our point to watch for them, and see that they nevcr take away. their cargo of hell-fire. I wish Buckhorn Bill were here with us, fer he’d make us a good leader, and would make victory a great victory as an inevi- table consequence. He succeeds in nearly all he undertakes!’ i ‘But he ain’t out, an’ won’t be till we git him.” “Not unless he has aid from another source,” Tom replied, thoughtfully, “as I hope he will have.” Littla more was said, but the fire died out and the ye scouts dropped off into a sound, refreshing sleep. AE the first approach of day they were astir, how- ever, and after breakfasting on dried yenison, of which Elephant always carried a supply in his ; haversack, they set out for the camp of the Red Rifle Team, ; It was a distance cf eight miles, and therefore the sun was climbing well toward the mericiar., ere they reached the camp. Here, of course, they were accorded a warm wel- come by Captain Ned and his men, for Stockton was pousgan acquainted with Turtle Tom, while he ; had heard much of Old Elephant by report. : First of all the men were treated to a good dinner, | but my own.” and then Tom related much of what is known te the reader, and plans were discussed and formed. rs So that long ere the shadows of night came on the | apes and whisky-hunters were en yovle for Loon ~ C. 2 - Buckhorn Bill gazed at the opened doorin great i astonishment, and saw a small girlish figure glide | into the room—then sprung forward, joyfully, with | the exclamation: 4 “Molly Miner. as I live!” 4 “Yes, Molly Miner—bctter known as Whisky Bill’s q daughter!’ the girl replicd scvanc S and extending her hand. “Tam sorry to see youin ~ this predicament. Mr. Burnham,” ‘ “So am I, Molly, But, see hayr; 8’pos’in’ you~ drop the Mister, Btckhorn Bill’s good enuff fer me.’ : “Very well; I'll. call you Bill then, or—Willie,” the 4 Nymph of the Lake replied, a faint color tinge- — ing her brown cheeks. ‘You ought to have kept — away from the lake, as I warned you, and then — nothing would have happened, perkaps, to you.” “IT know you did, dear Molly, but the humen — mind and heart ever yearn for greater knowlecge, an’ I wantéd ter discover the topography wy this isl- and, or bu’st—an’ J bu’sted.”” Sas ~xactly 1? the girl replied, with a smile. “‘T am sorry you have got in the power of the gang. But. how did mee do when Gregg and his fellows came? They said you were quite dead, and I came to see, — for I didn’t believe it.” a ‘Oh! I played ’possum—layed os whar they put. me, an’ iooked the best I know’d how like a natteral — ‘stiff;’ an’ the orgainly cowards war “fraid ter cum _ near me. So they rendered their verdict, while— standin’ at a distance, an’ departed.” si And Bill laughed outright at the absurdity of bis— performance. Lut something else was on bis mind —for he added: : : “Do you know thet Whisky Bill, as you cali him, is the father of another child in Squatterville?” ne ““T know nothing of the kind, sir,” the girl replied, accepting the chair she had heretofore declined, ~ “The Pearl of the Prairies is no child of Whisky — Bill's, He has told me that ke was never n arried.”, ‘“*Ha! this a revelation.” 5a8 - “Yes. He made it to me once, out of spite, I uess. He told me that Pearl Prescott was related ome, but did not say how near, He moreover said that we were of the name Sterling, but I chese the name of Miner, until I was sure of the right one.” — “ How long, then, have you been with these illici whisky outlaws?” : : if “iver since my earliest recollection. They were — down in Colorado, until four years ago, when they — came up here. I used to have a'Texan lady com- panion, who taught me, but she is now dead.” ™ “Then you, have never tried to escape from the” outlaws?’ ; Rs “‘No, for [should rot have known where to go; besides, Ihave always had a home, such as it was. and my freedom, and was respected by Wh'sky*i sh and the rest of the gang, cee Captain Coffin. F has often been rude and even brutal to me, but ths was only in times when Dill Miner. or Bill Purdelle, as you know him, was absent at Squatterville.” “Do you think you would like to Icave here now, ae ZO out into the world, where you would be ha anv : sc “T don’t know, for I’ve never given the matter ph the eal Besides, no one would want me. and — should be shunned, while here I am in no society — a I b pags, from kere ““Maybe [ can contrive to get you ey r Id you tru soon!” Bill said, thoughtfully. ‘‘ Cou yourself to ae with me?” — ‘**Maybe—I don’t know.” she replied_a firsh mount: ing her forehead, and prettily crimsoning here ceks, ‘** But, I must go, now, for I don’t want to he caught — here by the outlaws. Should they pay you anothe: visit, play dead again. It will give me a change

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‘gathered near the eetne To-night a cargo of whisky will be loaded, and, Then, when the train arrives, the boat will put out for the eastern shore. Be watch- ae and hopeful, and I'll try to get you out. Good- work out your es y. 4 “‘Good-by, and may God bless you,” the young Scourge said, fervently, as she turned away, perhaps to conceal the sad. ah ene that grew upon her face, as she thought that it might be impossible for her to help him escape. In a moment she had left the Ue aa and Bill heard _ the key grate once more in the f ock, CHAPTER XIV. THE EMIGRANT TRAIN—LOADING THE BARGE —TWO HANDS GOOD—FOUR BETTER. Tut Red Rifle Team arrived on the lake-shore at moon-rise, that night, and after pitching their camp back in the woods, Captain Ned, Turtle Tom, and Old Elephant started forth to make observations. Major Sterling was also along, for since he had learned that Captain Coffin was the man they were after, the old officer had strong hopes of finding his two lost daughters. After arriving at the eastern edge of the lake, they stopped and scrutinized the waters, upon which the moon shed a spectral light. None of the outlaws’ boats were in sight, to excite suspicicn; the lakelgy like a deserted desert of blue; far away, to the naked eye, looked the Balsam Island, which Turtle Tom pointed out as a strong- hold and distillery-place of the whisky ring. “Tt'sa bad place to make an attack!” said Ned Stockton, at an instant glance, ‘‘ You see the devils could lie in the shade and pick us off, should we at- tempt to reach the spot. How many are there, Frailey, on that island?’ “T reckon you've got me there, captain!’’ Turtle Tom fe ae scratching his head. ‘I never counted ‘em, But [reckon thar must-be about fifty regulars, aside frum the gang under Coffin—the Press-Gang, properly. Thar’s sum twenty or thirty uy them.” ““And then there are slaves, eh?—or rather, men who haye been pressed into service.” “Yes—about twenty more of them, among whom are several old prairie scouts, hunters, Weppere and farmers, some of them from Burnham’s colony.” **Tndeeed! would they fight for the whisky ring?” “They are bitter over the brutality that has been extended them, an’ I reckon they’d all fight fer urs if they had weapons.”’ “Well, then, leaving them out of the question, al- together, we have some seventy or eighty roughs to contend with?” said Captain Ned. ae Yes, I guess them’s fabout the figgers of the caso.”” “Ten, you see, we’ve got to go slow and work ‘sharp to attain a victory. Ten men—yes, twelve men against eighty, is scarcely worth speakinz of; ‘i we may be able to accomplish wonders. Buck- orn Bill we cannot help, at present.’ They went back to the camp, and then Captain Ned dispatched ‘five of his men to keep guard at different points on the lake-shore, while he lit his pee and spent a full hour in unbroken reflection. i+then spoke, “T see but one way to accomplish anything satis- factorily,” he said, addressing those who were fire, ‘and this is my plan. Coffin and his gang will soon go back to tho island, probably, and we won't hinder them. When the whisky caravan arrives, we will ascertain the force they have, and if possible take them_ prisoners. - Thon, I will dispatch some one to the island, to let the outlaws know of the train’s arrival, and they—a part of them will come ashore with the whisky.” “Good, so far,” nodded Turtl» Tom, approvingly. Ef There is generally about fifteen men come with the aArge, * Miley then, a swift, sudden attack will use them up, and— - 8 7 Buckhorn Bill, ““You have sixty odd men on the island yet to get,” ae Ley Old Elephant. ‘* How about them ?”” “We'll see to that afterward. 1t is better not to Jan too much work at a time. If we get a score of the devils alive, I won’t complain.” An hour passed, and then one of the guards came in with the announcement that Captain Coffin and his Press-Gang were crossing the lake toward the Balsam Island. “Let ’em go!” commanded Captain Stockton. Fee too weak in numbe:s to attempt to capture em, “Yes, for they are devils in a fight,” said Turtle Tom. ‘I heard one of the ‘slaves,’as those are called who have been pressed into service, say that four years ago, Captain Coffin and the gang massa ered a party of soldiers down in Colorado, and scalped them all, and the crime was attributed to the red-skins.” : “No doubt; but the cusses ‘ll get their neck stretched when it’s found out.” The remainder of the night passed without any great amount of conversation; nor was the tran- quillity of the camp disturbed. But early in the morning there were strange noises heard on the clear air—the rumble of heavy squeaking wagons, and the shouts and curses of oxen-drivers, not far away from the camp of the Rifle Team. 5 oa It’s the whisky bull-train,” announced Turtle ‘om. “And they’re so near that it will be necessary for us to change the location of our cee said Stock- ton. “We'll hurry and get away further to the north, and then make a reconnoissance of the train.” ree ies the main body of the men were called in, and a spot for the new camp was selected about a mile further u» the north shore, Then, Stockton and Turtle Tom set off toward the place where they expected to find the train. ' hey moved with exceeding caution, forit was far from desirable that they should be discovered, “T think I have the best idea yet,” said Turtle Tom, as they advanced. ‘ Your red uniform great- ly res¢mbles the darker crimson ones worn by the Press-Gang. At least, I don’t think the ignorant ruffians in charge of the train would recognize the difference, On each time when they arrive at tho lake, it is customary for them to sen a negro over to the island to inform Coffin of th ir arrival. Now, then, you’re to gO into. their camp, and re resent yourself as one of the ring, and offer to ride the nig- ger to the island in a boat, where he generally has to float or swim on a log. You then can bring him into camp, and we'll thoroughly bull-doze him, “ After we’ve found out what we ‘want, I'll black np with some preparation I have, and go to tho island. I'll tell Coffin, and take the liberty of the camp, and see what I can do for Buckhorn Bil'.” “Still better,” said Stockton, ‘‘mebbe you'd bet- ter don my togs and visit the train yourself, for you're better acquainted with the nature of the busi- ness.” . “Very well; for, come to think, the nigger, Jo3, has seen meat workin the distiller~, ag nosuspicion of our game will be created. I also know the driv- ers, generally, by name.” The twoiyoung men accordingly exchanged gar- ments, after which'they stole on. ‘ In due'time they gained a position in the woods land, from where they could look down upon th» camp of ths bull-train, camping in a little glade close to the shore of the lake. % There were eight canyas-corered prairie schoon- ers, each of which was drawn by two teams.of burly oxen. A camp-fire had been built upon the ground, and around this six half-breed women were engaged in toasting recently killed venison. Nine men were lounging around, being for the most _part octo-breeds, or Texans, while among them one negro was conspicuous ,

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-. ture cf Molly Miner, the Nymph. Buckhorn Bill. “It’s a hard-looking gang,” said Stockton, “If we - take them so easily, I'll be surprised.” “You'd better attack them at night,’’ Tom re- lied, ‘* before it’s time for the barge to come ashore. the time you’ve killed or taken them, you’ll have your hand in for the others.” Stockton then took his leave, and the young trap- er waited but a few moments, ere he advanced Botaly into the camp. His coming created no manifestations of surprise anne the bogus emigrants, for they simply stared at him, “Tg Bug Terral here?” Turtle Tom demanded, tak- ing a seat on one of the huge hubs of the wagon wheels, with utmost compos re. _ ‘“-Yes, I reckon Im that indervidual, young feller,” said a brawny, bloated rough, who supported the heaviest beard Tom had ever seen. ‘What d’ye want, heer?” “Waal, Ireckon’d you war the train w’at’s cum after the whisky,” was the reply, “so I left off my notion o’ huntin’, an’cum down to see. Sent yer nigger over yet? “No, but I was jest a-thenkin’ 0’ sendin’ him. Coffin s expectin’ us, I suppose, ain’t he?” ‘*T guess not, pogeaiai fer all ther president’s messages’ have been waylaid and papuree by hun- ters. Ther w’i’sky’s purty neer ready, I guess though; so ef ye’re goin’ ter send yer nigger he kin ride over in the boat, if he comes along with me.” “All right—go “long wi’ ye, Joe, you cuss, an’ stay till the barge comes over. Ef I see yer black bazzoo on this shore before that time, I’ll skin ye.’’ Joe, who was a sensible fellow, profited by the rude train-master’s advice, and in company with Turtle Tom was seen hurrying back through the forest toward the camp of the Red Rifle Team, As soon as they arrived there, the astonished darky was seized and bound hand and foot, and the muz- zie of a revolver held against his forehead with the threat that if ye yelled, he would get the contents of the weapon. “* Now, then, you black rascal!’’ said Captain Ned, assuming as stern an aspect as possible, ‘ what’s your name?” “* Joseph Snow, sir!” was the reply. “Snow, eh? Well, that-is a rather bad joke, Imust say—on the snow. Now, Joseph, do you know what I'm going to do with you, if you don’t answer all I ask you?” “*No, sir!” “Well I’m goin’ ter make a black angel of you, if you don’t disgorge; and mind, you get the same, if you lie to me. Now, then, answer straightforward, yand Vl be mild with you. Do you belong to this Whisky Ring?” ‘*No, sir; ( work for Bug Terral.” “You've often been over to the island?” “Yer, a'r, very of’n.” “And know Cap Coffin?” “Yer, sir, jes’ as well as I know myself.” “Do you have your liberty, and do as and go where you please, while on the island?” « “een m the distillery?” “ Yes, sir.” “That’s all, at present. Tom, I guess it will be safe for you to venture across.” Accordingly Tom Septet eb See clothes with Cap- tain Ned, and then with Joe Snow, after which he blacked up, and all the rangers declared that he was a clever counterfeit of the genuine Snow—al- most Snow himself, ] In his prison on the whisky barge, Buckhorn Bill took the remainder of the day easy, after the depars He knew there was no way in which he could escape until he re- ceived aid from outside; and therefore he resolved not to worry nor chafe in his confinement, but make the best of i: until something turned up 2 - os ae vee 2 eS headlights, one on each end of the boat, and ther took his departure. It was these lights, or rather, one of them, which Bill had previously seen upon the lake. ce Not long had the man been gone, when the door was again unlocked, and Molly Miner hurriedly en- tered Bill’s presence, 4 “You're to have company,” she said, speakin rapidiy, ‘‘and likewise a chance for escape, whic you must improve to the best of your ability. The gang have got possession of your old sweetheait, Pearl Prescott, and Ugly Gregg has ordered her to be locked up in here with you, he believing you to be a corpse.” : “Ruther a lively corpse!’’ Buckhorfi grinned. “What else?” “Well, I have equipped ber, unbeknown to the gang, with a saw, an auger,and two loaded seven- shooters. You must saw a hole through this south- ern wall, which is thin and opens directly upon the water, and then trust to your luck in escaping. If possible I will be near at hand.” And ere Bill “Could find words to properly express his thanks, she was gone: Night came on slowly, it seemed to the anxious hal Scourge, but at last heavy footsteps shook he barge once more, and the door of the prison was unlocked, pened, and a person pusked rudely in- side; then it was jerked quickly shut and locked again. ‘i ““* Bil!” called a clear, anxious voice, “are you here?” * You bet I am!” was the low reply, and Buckhorn advanced and warmly clasped both of the Prairie Pearl’s hands in his, ‘I’m sorry to see you here, Pearl; but we cannot waste time. If you have the saw and an Sger let me have them.” Pearl retreated into the darkness a moment, and then came forward with the tools,. Bill seized the auger, and began the work of escaping by attacking the southern wall of the building. He bored several holes through, to make a path- way for his saw, and then ‘dropped the auger, and the saw took its Be After watching him work afew moments, Pearl stepped forward. “You bore you another path, and let me man- age this saw!” she said, bravely “My arms are strong, and if two handsare good, four may certain- ly be a little better. “But this is too clared, in surprise. ‘*No! no! hurry; let me saw, for we need to o'- cape as soon as possible.” ecordingly they both set to work, and with a fair | pat of soon having an ¢ pening made. But here were loud shouts outside, and the outlaws be- gan to roll barrels of whisky aboard the barge. “They are loading up,” said Buckhorn, in vexa- tion, ‘and we shall have to quit, lest we attract at- tention to our efforts at escaping. You crouch yon- der in the corner, and I'll hide these tools, and as- sume my old position of a corpse.” The tools were secreted under the bed, and then each possessing a loaded revolver, Pearl aud the Boy eons assumed their relativ2 positions,and waite heavy work for you,” Bill da- CHAPTER XV. . PLAYING GHOST—CAPTURING THE TRAIN. Tue work of loading the barge occupied consid- erable time, which was positive torture to the two prisoners. The barrels were rolled by hand down the hill out of the island balsam woods, and thence onto the pier, from whence it was but a step onto the barge. Some fifteen or twenty men were en- gaged inthe work of bringing and loading—a'l of — them rough fellows, with lanterns slung at their hips. Among them, the two leading spirits wero Captains Coffin and Gregg, but they did not partici- ate in the Jabor. pag its supervision, After ing awhile, Buckhorn Bill arose, and placed the _ Ashort time after sunset a man came and lit two table and chair before the eastern window. 7

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28 : : Buckhorn Bill. “J ain’t a-goin’ ter play stiff until ibis necessary,” he said to Pearl, with a cool laugh. ‘‘Idon’t reckon those fellows willLinvade until they’re through with their work.” . So he mounted upon his perch to look from the window. It was interesting to watch the strange, weird scene; to see with what. skill the beavy bar- rels were handled. Some seventy or eighty barrels of this illicit whisky were brought down and loaded upon the barge; then the lights were put out, and the majority of the men tramped back into the bal- sam woods of the island. Two remained upon the barge, Gregg and Captain Coffin. They appeared to be engaged in animated conversation upon some topic, but from his position Bill was not able to catch the drift of it. é “7 wish they'd Fo along off the barge, so’s I could finish that jo fs e muttered. ‘ Ain’t afraid, are ye, Miss Pearl?’ : * No!” was the answer, in a fearless tone—‘‘ not when I’ve got a weapon to defend myself with. Are those men all gone?” “All but Coffin and another galoot. They're out here talkin’ yet.” ; ‘Do you think they’ll comein here?” “Probably they will. I was just wishin’ they apna; so thatI could go on with my earpenter work, . But the two outlaws did not appear to be of a re- tiring disposition, for they chatted on, undisturbed- ly. “T have an idea, Miss Pearl,’ Buckhorn said, _ awhile later. ‘Pray excuse me for my seeming impertinence, but, do you wear white petticoats ?” “Why, y-e-s!” the astonished girl replied, her cheeks crimsoning. ‘t Why?” “Because, if you've got a couple you can conven- ently do without, I want to borrow them. Here’s my plav, in a nutshell, as they say. I’ve just been lucky enough to discover a piece of chalk in my pocket. With it Pll whiten my face, and by aid ne “ae skirts transform myself into a creditable ~ ghost.” Pearl saw that it was not worth while to let mock modesty interfere, where there was any show of escaping from their desperate dilemma; so, while bill turned his attention to matters outside, she di- vested herself of her underskirts, and then Bill came down, and she handed them to him, witha flushed face and drooping eyes. faikw ded one skirt about bis waist, so that it fell to his feet, he shirred the other about his neck. This made him a full flowing robe. And then when his face was whitened with chalk, and a large white handkerchief tied down over his head, he presented truly a frightful appearance. “There; will I make a good ghost?” he demanded, turning to Peari. ““Yos, capital,” she replied with a smile. ‘Do you a 0 frighten those men with that appear- ance 5 “I’m going to try it,” Bill replied, whitening his hans. ‘‘Both of them I believe to be cowards at heart, and if I can seare them, so much the better, _ for they’ll most likely vamose, and we can finish our _ jobs yonder,” beret But you may be wrong, and they may shoot 1. “Oh! PU watch out for that, Ill keép an eye on _ @m when they come in, and if they pull a * pussy,’ ~ ¢ll drop ’em both, on short notice.” _. Pearl, at Bill’s request, lay prone upon the floor, in 2, position. apt to cause one to think she ha - faintcd and fallen. Then the young Scourge took a te osition toward the rear end of the prison, first hay- feu it arranged his hat and jacket upon the cot, so as to look as if he still lay there, It was fully an hour ere anything was heard of ‘he two outlaws; then a key grated in the lock, and the door of the apartment swung partly open—wide penpueh ne admit the head and masked face of C p- Ofte. : , - ’ x —_ He Sate aglanee around. The candle was flicker- ing fitfully on the table; Pearl lay upon the floor, be best ak in a dead swoon; at the further end of the apartment stood a tall, white-draped thing, with a face as white as alabaster, and one finger of the ~ right hand was pointing directly at the door. Coffin took this all in; then jerked the door shut witha frightful oath, followed by a wild sepulchral laugh from the inside. “Ten thousand devils!” he gasped, turning to CR saw a ghost—thet boy’s ghost!" “Get out!’ the other whisky captain replied, in- eredulously. “But I did!” asserted Goffin, shivering from head to foot, strong, rough man though he was, ‘‘ Never see’d sech a thing before in my life. Look in, ef ye don’t b’lieve me. See ’f the boy's body is lyin’ on the bed.. I didn’t notice.” 4 Never_hayving believed in eed or supernatural things, Gregg poked his head inside the door, to be positive that Coffin had not gone stark mad But what he saw, and the fearful groan he heard, caused him to draw back and shut the door, with an ex- ecration. His face was a strange gray, and he quaked in every joint. “Tt4sa ghost!” he whispered. his breath coming in gasps. ‘‘I see’d et, an’ heerd eeproats Lord!’ “1D ye see the boy?’’ gasped Coffin. *“-Yes—he war lyin’ on ther cot. jest where we left him. Hain't budged sence we tuk him in thar, The gal’s gone clear fainted on ther floor.” “Then et’s a real ghost of the young imp’s?” “On course it is, Let’s gd an’ tell ther boys. Mebbe we can get them to bu’st the old coop over inter ther lake. Come, let’s git!’ 3 Locking the door the two superstitious men took to their heels, and never left off running until they were out of sight of the supEoere haunted barge. Within the prison Buckhorn Bill and Pearl were nearly convulsed with laughter, for they had over- heard the words of the two cowards. : “Hurrah!” and Bill danced about lightly in his ghostly attire, ‘I never hed so much fun in my life, Warn’t they scared tho’? Great Jerusalem! I took ’em to have more sand than that."” “It was a good ruse,” said Pearl, laughing too; “but now we must to work, and get out of this be- fore they come back to us.” **Ts the door locked?” “Yes, they were thoughtful enough to lock it after them.” “ Well, then we'll have to resort to the saws again. . It’s only ten minutes’ more work to have the hole | eut through.” z “Yes, but—but—’” “Oh! yes, I know—you want your prettycoats, eh? Excuse me for not thinking of that before.” ‘ He soon had them off, and while he set to work — with the saw again, Pearl took a lvantage of a dark corner to resume the wearing of them, se Then she too lent her aid, wit the saw, and they both worked faithfully, until the sweat came upon ‘their faces. And at last their labors were rewarded, ~ for Bill pushed out a portion of the wall about three feet square, and it toppled first onto the barge, and then fell witha splas h into the lake. eae “There we are,”’ Bill exclaimed, joyfully.. “Now, Miss Pearl, let’s see ef we can’t escape.” ; Thy climbed out of the prison, and found a skiff awaiting them. containing Molly ‘Miner, the Nymph of the Lake. _Also a negro, who held the oars, “Quick!” Molly cried, joyfully-—‘‘Get into this boat, and we will all forever leave this vicinity. I am 89 glad you succeeded in cutting through.” “So are wel’ Bill said, helping Pearl out of the craft, ‘“There—all right, go ahead, Sambo!” : “See here, don’t be too free!” exclaimed the fam- iliar voice of Turtle Tom, “ Originally, I ain’t no blacker than pour - pty And then there was a general hand-shaking, and x Po tae nae while the boat was silently nosing out of the bayou, ; 3

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Buckhorn Bift, Tom had succeeded in gaining the island and re- porting to Captain Coffin without having his dis- uise detected; and seeing Molly, he had enlisted er in his service, and together they had captured the tools which had released the two prisoners. ‘“And now we must get away for Stockton’s camp!” the young trapper said, *‘ for we want to be there before the barge starts, which will be about three hours before daybreak.” i After Turtle Tom had left the camp of the Red Rifle Team, on his mission to Balsam Island, Cap- tain Ned Stockton first ascertained from the negro, Joe Snow, the actual strength of the bogus emi- grapt camp, and. then made preparations for an attack. Upon learning that he was liable to have to swing from a limb, Snow faithfully promised. his services in behalf of the rifle team, and this made their number a round dozen. In the course of an hour everything was in readi- ness, and the whisky-hunters stole away from camp, and softly through the timber, along the curving Jake-shore toward the camp of the bogus emigrants. The morning was well advanced, but the emigrant camp appeared quiet and in repose, when Stockton and his men first came in sight of it. Evidently the emigrants were improving the time for a good rest and sleep. Their oxen had been tethered on the prairie, east of the belt, to graze until they were needed. “Let them stay there!’ Captain Ned said, care- lessly. ‘They can’t go far even if they do fet loose. Now, then, get ready for business. (} camp is all asleep, and at our merey. Creepin and each of you cover somebody. Where there are two lying close together let one man cover them both, n this way we can make up for their superiority of numbers, and have one or two men to spare.” The work of stealing into camp without arousing any of the ruffians was an extremely difficult and dangerous one, inasmuch as the breaking of a twig was liable to awaken one or more, and such a mishap was but the signal for a pitched battle. Step by step crept on the dauntless whisky-hun- ters, each with his trusty repeating-rifle in hand, and belt-weapons cocked for instant use. At last, after maybe a half-hour’s stealthy effort, every person of the: bogus emigrants. was under | the cover either of a repeating-rifle. or a pair of re- volvers, and Captain Ned and two of his nearest pards, each had two of the Se covered. Then Dick Reade and Old Elephant began -the operation of taking prisoners, without awakening vhem. . This was far the most delicate matter of all, for the slightest touch seemed to disturb the tranquillity of the sleepers’ repose. Of the entire number, how- ever, five were securely bound without being awak- en’d 50 the resillty of their capture. Tut hesixth, a burly, villainous half-breed, sprung un, af the first touch, and gave a wild yell, which frcm its fearful volume could do no less than arouse the remaining sleepers of the camp, But almost the moment he reached his feet, he fell back again, under a stunning blow from Dick Reade’s hard fist; while the click! click! of halfa se ro of weapon-locks admonished the remaining whisky-runners to b-come inactive. They realized ata glance that they had been caught napping, and fave up-without any violent attempt to escape, al- though there was any amount of grumbling and svearing. - “Bind ’em tight, boys.’ Steekton ordered, “for we mustin’t let our game escape when there's so “many legal functionaries in Yankton starving for the want of a fee. Good luck has been ours so far; maybe we ean get some of them from the island.” All of the prisoners were securely bound, and chucked into one cf the heavy whisky-wazons; then Yaliled by hand to Stockton’s camp on the Northern ~ shore, where they were left in charge of Old Ele- phant, while Captain Ned and his gallant band went back to the scene of their recent victory, to await ihe coming of the whisky-boat and the illicit dis- ers, CHAPTER XVI. THE OUNTAIN ACT OF THE DRAMA—FINIS, Bur they had to wait a long while, as it seemed'to them, for the day dragged away slowly, and far into the night, ere anything animated was seen upon the bosom of the 1 e; and then it was. only an empty skiff, evidently floating around on the waves at the will of the breeze. 5 “TI wish they’d hurry up!” stockton growled, as he and Dick Reade paced to and fro under the trees that overhung the eastern beach. “I want to get the matter over with ag quickly as possible.”’. “Yes, so do I, for I don’t like the job on one ae- Soe ee got to kill off so many in order to get a few. : “True; but maybe we sha‘n’t have to drop many this time.” “ ? : “IT hope not, for that Ash Stream affair has haunted me ever since.” The night wore on, and still the Rifle Team watch- éd and waited. : While explanations were being made, Turtle Tom, the young trapper, was pulling rapidly away from the island, through the bayou S. In ten minutes anes, were clear of it, and out on the surface of the 2. The moon _was sinking to rest, and shed but dim light upon the lake. “You'd better fight wide of the island, Tom,” said Buckhorn Bil, keeping his sharp glances darting around, ‘* We don’t want to get a blizzard from the enemy when we ain’t expecting it.” “No! you’re right, Pill—not with these two angels in calico on board. But I don’t calkylate we'll hev any trouble from the cusses.” either did they, for they soon reached the main land near the location of Stockton’s camp. whither they proceeded, to find it deserted, with the excep- tion of Old Elephant, v ho was acting guard over the wagon-load of prisoners. And the old fellow was nearly tickled to death to see the young Buckhorn among the party. ; “Old Wonders an’ all-his family!” he exclaimed, relaxing his vigilance long enough to shake hands. * Aire. thet you, Sweet William—you, wi’ yer skulp on, and your hull diogomy ?’’ “Yes, Elephant, it’s me, as safe and sound as a new trade dollar!” Bill replied. ““ But, see here; eer Rifle Team of whom Tom has been tell. ing us?’ “They're watchin’ fer ther whisky boat over yon- der, near where you first got captured.” ‘“Did_ you take the train without any trouble?» Turtle Tom asked. : “You bet your life we jest did that—catched ~ every galoot an’ galootess asleep, an’ had ’em foul, as ther Injun sed, when the white man grabbed him - by the skulp. Didn’t spill a drop of blood, and got fifteen uv ‘em as nice as a pin.” “Where's the es, * Oh, he's tumbled in over there with the boys, Guess | he’s jest as white, in his inwards, as any 0’ us.’ “Young ladies!” Buckhorn Bill said, turning to > Pearland Molly, with a courteous bow, ‘‘we must: needs leave you here in charge of Old Elephant, no: while we go and assist in the capture of the rest this whisky band. Later, I shail see that you both are conducted to a place of safety, far from here.” Then, Billand Turtle Tom turned their footsteps toward the whereabouts of the Red Rifle Team.. “Tb’lieve them gals aire the lost darters of an old gent we’ve got among us,” said Turtle Tom as they : % tramped along. ‘‘His name is Major Sterling, an’ he’s bin the loser of a Fete female children, thet aire by this time about the age o’ them back yonder,

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. 30 An’, { @arns out thet this Cap. Coffin, who is ther as ll brother, war the abductor of the gals, in their childhood, sum fifteen or less years ago—I don’t jest remember the time. Now, et looks likely - to me that the gals are his’n.”” ‘*Undoubtedly they are. and if so, Turtle Tom’s solid fer one of ’em, seein’s he’s penetrated the biz- ness and been the means of restorin’ them to their arent!” assented Buckhorn, with a laugh, ‘* Reckon iss Molly has got plenty of admiring glances fer a fellow about your statter.”’ “Ye ain’t jealous, Bill?” : “Pooh! no; jealousy ain’t one o’ my failings. ReckonI ken pe along several years yet, wi’out an- nexing myself.” : “Oh! that'll do to tell, but I’m bettin’ you cop in one of these lovely sisters.” “hen you bet on the wrong-hoss,” said Bill, grim- ly. ‘Don’t hanker much after females—ef I had poor mother and little Maolin back, I’d be content;”’ andthe young Scourge’s voice grew suddenly chok- ed. and tears filled his handsome eyes. “T reckon you won’t get over that soon, eh, Bill?” said Turtle Tom, sympathizingly. * @el over it! No! never!” and he became silent and stern. At last they were aroused by the challenge of an erpsten. picket, and then admitted to the presence of the rangers. : ‘ Turtle Tom was welcomed back with enthusiasm, and Captain Ned Stockton had a hearty handshake with Buckhorn Bill. for the two were old friends of one summer-time’s buffalo-hunt upon the plains. In less than an hour a huge reflection of light curved around the island; the barge was coming. ““What power of locomotion have they for the craft, Tom?” Captain Ned asked, pacing to and fro in front of his men, whom he ttad ordered to fall back in under the cover of the woods. i ‘A steam boiler and engine, which runs a stern paddle-wheel,’ The barge is guided by a wheel in the engine house,” replied Tom, ; “What would you advise, as you know pretty well how matters are conducted?” “ You must first build a bonfire on the beach yon- der, and then back the wagons down to the water’s edge. This is to deceive them into believing that all is right. Conceal your men in the wagons, and the moment the rascals are near enough to secure a ood aim, open on them. It is your only hope, for if you try to capture them you'll most likely get the worst of it.” ‘*T don’t Jike to slaughter them off like that. I’d rather fight ’em face to faca, and fairly!” protested Stockton. “*And get licked like blazes!” retorted the trap- per. “Well, if you like to make yourself an open rget. go in an’ get the worth of vome money. I'll stay back in'under cover and watch you.” This decided the matter. huge bonfire of dry material was kindled on the beach, and the wagons were backed down, so that the hind wheels rested in the edge of the lake, The men were then divided into three companies, and stationed in the center tier of wagons, Stockton, Buckhorn Bill, and Turtle Tom commanding. ' - By this time the barge had approached to within the distance of a quarter of a mile, and distinctly visible were the barrels, and upon these lounged perhaps a score of men. As he watched the barge approaching, and the men lying upon the barrels, a strange expression came over the features of Buckhorn Bill, and he left his own wagon and entered that of Turtle Tom. ‘‘Have you made the discovery?” he demanded, excitedly. ““No—what discovery?’ young Frailey asked, won- deringly. . \ ““That those men on-the barge are lying in rather unnatural positions, and have not moved since they came in sight.” ““Well—what is there strange about that?” ! . By Stockton’s orders a. Buckhorn Biil, “To me, there is much. T believe that enery Za72 over yonder ts dead ! Look, and see for yourself!’ There was certainly something strange in the mac- ter, for none of the ruffians moved. Naturally there would be a stir on board upon approaching the shore. The news was quickly spr: to Captain Stockton, and to the rest of the tnen, and the approaching eraft was regarded with eurioattys Soon it became apparent beyond a doubt that those on board were dead, for bloody wounds could be seen in several of the foreheads. : As soon as they were all satisfied beyond a doubt, the watchers left the wagons, and gathered on the beach. Slowly the barge came nearer to the shore, and at last grounded upon the silvery sands, Then the whisky-hunters went aboard, and gazed about them. There was but one living outlaw on board, and he was lying in the cabin prison where Buckhorn had been confined. It was the acting chief of the illicit whisky ring— the notorious and fiendish leader of the Press-Gang, Captain Coffin, ll the other outlaws had either been stabbed in the forehead by some sharp instrument, or had been pie | a tiny shot which had 1 ft a pin-head mark | of blood upon the breast just over the heart. They had evidently been killed and placed in positions to suit the strange avenger. “This is a terrible destruction,’ said Buckhorn Bill, with a shudder. ‘‘Tom, go shut off the steam, and drag out that wretch, Captain Coffin.” Young Frailey obeyed, and in five minutes the captain of the whisky outlaws Jay helplessly before his enemies, upon the deck of the barge, unmasked, He was a fierce, brutal-looking man in facial as- pect, with bloodshot eyes, a cruel mouth, and an iron-gray mustache; a man, at a glance, who would not hesitate at the commission of any crime. He flushed and flinched uneasily beneath the stern accusing gaze of the Boy Scourge, and a grayer shade came upon his countenance. “Villain, ruffian, human wolf!” Buckhorn Bill said, hoarsely, ‘‘ you are at last at the end of your rope. You have committed your last crime—the last of your inhuman outrages, here upon the earth. I want to know who it was who did this work of destruction, that we might not have it to do?” ‘That devil who has ever haunted us since two years ago—Old Death Shadow!” replied the outlaw, fiercely. ‘“‘ While I was engineering the craft, ho came aboard, killed my men wi-h that needle-gun of his, made me a prisoner, and then escaped.” —* “Then I say hurray fer Old Death Shadow!” cried Turtle Tom. ‘ Here, Major Sterling—we’ve got that outlaw brother of yours; d’ye want to let him taste the toe of your brogan?’ “No,” replied the major, coming forward and gazing coldly down at the prisoner. “I have no pity for the wretch who murdered my wife and stole away my children. Let the law and God deal with him, for I will not lay a hand upon him.” ‘““Hfa! ha!” sneered Coffin, ‘but if Iam not freed you will never get those c! ildren, and I swear it!’ “But there is just where you make a mistake!"’ said Turtle Tom, triumphantly, “for I have Mr. Sterling’s two daughters.in my possession now—the two girls who have been known as Pearl Prescott and Molly Miner, and they are the children you onee - sold to Whisky Bill for a pair of rifles!” ; “Then, God be* praised thatI am at last to be restored to my chi'dren!” devoutly said the major. A consultation was held upon the barge, and it was universally decided that it was the best Fee to take Coffin with the rest of the captured outlaws, to , uatterville, and put them under guard, and then return to sve lake to besiege the remaining distillers on Bal Island. F The Gead ruffians were, by Stockton’s orders buried in the forest, and the illicit whisky emptied into the lake. : Then, yin Coffin in puaree, the Rifle Team and Buckhorn returned to the original camp of the team,

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¢ : Buckborn Bill, a Sn a i EE ee while Turtle Tom remained in the vicinit of the | barge to keep watch and learn what he could. At the camp there was a joyous meeting between waioy Sterling and his two twin daughters—for he had no doubt, after a glance, that they indeed were his daughters. Lewis Sterling, the Captain Coffin of our narrative. did not deny but that they were the children he had stolen away, when he saw that it was no longer possible to deny their identity. We might dwell at length on the gladsome reunion, but choose simply to record it. On the second day after the capture of Captain Coffin, Captain Ned Stockton and his so-called Rifle Team, took their prisoners, sixteen in number, from the camp on the lake-shore, and set out in the now useless whisky train of wagons, for Squatterville. Major Sterling was not desirous of longer staying in the wilderness, and so, with his two charming daugh- ters, of whom he was so proud, he accompanied the train to Burnham’s colony, where he declared it his intention to permanently locate, on one of the choice growing ranches, several of which he owned. Buckhorn Bill, Turtle Tom ani Old Elephant were left at the lake-shore, to keep an eye out for the re- maining outlaws pen Balsam Island, But though they kept a vigilant watch uyon the lake and island, no stir of animated life was seen, The greatest quiet prevailed, like on a Sabbath day Even the birds were less musical than usual, and in the forest upon the shore, a strange hush and silence prevailed. “Tll_ bet my rights to ther next Presidency, that thar ain’t a cussed outlaw on that island!” said Tom Yrailey, as the three met at the barge. “Thar ain’t so much as one 0’ the suckers sneez- ed over thar, I tell ye.” : “But they may be thar, though,” replied Buck- horn Bill, ‘‘ although I am inclined ter ther belief that they’ve given us theslip. It would be a bitter pill for Stockton.” “Oh, I don’t know, I don’t believe he set much store on them what's left over there. He’s already - got a fat figure out of the sixteen he has got.” ; Pe et but it would do me good to see him get em all.”” Cs This conversation took place in the afternoon of the day after Stockton’s departure. A fierce rain and wind-storm was premio gather- 2 aa 3 every minute preparatory to a final outburst. hey took shelterin one of the rude cabins of fhe barge, Soon the storm came tearing down from the sky, and through the woods with unprecedented fury. The rain fell in torrents, and the wind howled and shrieked like an infuriated demon in chains, Great trees were broken off or torn up by the roots, and limbs, sticks and even stones were blown through the air with a terrible force. In Jess than five minutes the lake had risen as many inches, arm the barge was suddenly swept off into the storm- tossed waters. “Ugh! this is a leetle ther wu’st quandarical deefi- kilty t war ever in!”’ grunted Old Elephant, stari at bis two companions with a startled expression o countenance, ‘'G’wine ter be anuther Antediluve, ain’t thar?” . “Guess not,” Buckhorn Bill replied. “Et’ll soon blow over, and we’ll be all right.’ Tt did soon blow over, but when the setting sun again broke from the clouds, the barge was beached high upon the shore of Balsam Island! : as soon as night came on, the three set forth through the dense balsam forest, to learn if any of the outlaws yet were on the island. Not a hundred yards had they advanced, when, in alittle rocky glade, they came upon one of the most borrible sights they had ever been fated to meet with, 3 F it was a human skeleton, bereft of all flesh and _ skin, bound to a young sapling. That the man had _ been lately killed, was evidenced by an occasional piece of flesh which was found in the neighborhood, 3st ““My name is properly Philip Burnha: . ri ay the founder of B Rha i ore nelly hell-hounds again, I went a ecpoteradee ANS into the atm them. I have just sent a cargo of them ashote, on board a barge-load of whisky, Coffin being the only, one who will see shore alive, I left him for my son to finish.” There was much more in detail, and Jast of all an appended will, bequeathing all the Burnham wealth and possessions to Buckhorn Bill; but in a nutshell we have given the main facts brought tolight by the document, ‘. The grief of fatherless, motherless Bill was ter- rible, and will be lasting, but he is better able to stand it than though the affliction bad been visited upcen him at an earlier period of his life. Captain Ned Stockton and his Rifle Team came back to the lake, only to be met by Buckhorn Bil and his two companions, with the news that the late storm and lightning had totally destroyed the Bal- sam Island distillery, and that the outlaws had al) escaped. A week's search for them ensued, but they were never heard from again. The captured whisky outlaws all received trials at Yankton, and long sentences, except Cap Ccffin who was one night taken from jail by a party of unknown men, and strung up. ) The ‘‘service*’ men known to have been in the ower of the outlaws, have never been found or eard from. That they were put out of the way was evident. z The president of the whisky ring was captured, and turned out to be,a noted speculator of tle, West. He, with Judge Fowler, received trials, and long sentences, ; ot three months ago old Major Sterling dicd, and on his death bed, before the welcome mess: n- ger came to guide him across the dark river. he oined the hands of Pearl Sterling and Captain tockton, and piquant Molly and Tom Frailey, to- gether, and invoked upon them his dying blessing, even as the clergyman pronounced them man an wife. Lone ae they live! Y Among those present were Buckhorn Pill and Old Elephant. Of this youth of whom we have been writing and reading, dear reader, let us say a closing word, We have not chosen a bites & otitious character in | him, to_portray—for the hero, as the author tas proven him to be, is William Burnham, at present writing, of Yankton, Dakota—the Buckborn Bill 6% our story. * : THE END, a

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THE Deadwood Dick e Library « $ LATESYT AND BESY. HANDSOME TRI-COLORED COVERS, 82 Pages. Issued Every Wednesday. Price 5 Cents. buy One and You Will Buy the Rest’ @xtracts from the New York Evening Sun. TWO REMARKABLE In only one sense of the word can it be regarded as a aovel statement when the fact is here recorded that litera- jure has given many heroes to the world, and perhaps more than one reader will have to think a moment over this remark before the subtle delicacy of its genial wit strikes home. But it is most essentially a half dime novel statement what will be news to many when ft is added that litera- wre; if traced from the dimly distant days when Adam as a mere child down to the present day, would show t few heroes that In the eyes of boyhood would be ‘en judged worthy of comparison with the two greatest known to American literature, or, to promptly re- veal them, Deadwood Dick and Deadwood Dick, Jr, * * * The modern heroes of fiction for young America, who are now as countless as the sands of the sea, and of whom the Deadwood Dicks are much the most important > * * it is but natural that their * * * should bear grey the palm of popularity, and suchas * * * be left behind in the race. - It oan be easily believed, thereforw, that the two Dicks 80 firmly engrafted on the tree of popular literature boys and young men, that their position is assured * * and that they stand to-day head and shoulders HEROES. above all rivals in the eyes of the public for which they have lived, and for which one of them has died, American boyhood, and that is a tremendous factor in the land, now knows Deadwood Dick, Jr., a good beal bet- ter than it knows its catechism, and millions of young minds absorb the thrilling incidents of his career in his everlasting warfare against crime and his never-ending solving of impenetrable mysteries. Millions of boys follow his stealthy footsteps as he tracks his vicious victims to their undoing, and then, when the victims are thoroughly undone, the millions wait hungrily for the next volume, which on every Wednesday appear. with the certainty of the Wednesday itself, and a new se. or tA thrills go thrilling away from Maine to Call- ornia, There are the volumes each se crowded with thrills and heart-tugs that it were madness to hope to do justice to them collectively and rank Injustice to discriminate be tween them, To abandon the idea of giving a few extracts causes in- finite pain, but if once a start were made in that direc tion, it would be cruel to The Hvening Sun's readers to stop, and it Is therefore better not to relate one single adventure. Suffice it to say that the stories are clean and well written. “DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY. i Deadwood Dick, the Priace of the Road 3 The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Deflance % The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures 4 Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol § Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval *# Death-Face, the Detective % The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza $ Old Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand 8 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian @ Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger Fy “hi Ewes Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to eat, 4 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar j8 Buckhy.n Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team 14 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter 6 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane 6 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo Sse ctith Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the Gulch 36 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand 18 Photograph Phil: or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance 9 Watch-HKye, the Shadow ni cen Dick’s Device; or, The Sign of the Double ross @ vanada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief % Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty %® Deadwood Dick as Detective % Gilt-Kdge Dick 8 Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker; or, The Secret Twelve 97 Chip, the Girl Sport Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorge.’s Guleh B onde Bill; er, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base Botia’ Sasa, tte Boy Hod Agost 83 Tony Fox, the Ferret; or, Boss Bob's Boss Job 34 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike 85 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 86 New York Nell, the Koy-Girl Detective 87 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of theBierras 88 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo 89 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last Adventure 40 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road 41 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jezebel 42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp 43 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues 44 ae Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator’s ame 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme 46 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado 47 The Miner Sport; or, Sugar-Coated Sam's Claim 48 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son; or, Apollo Bill, the Road-Agent 49 Sierra Sam, the Detective 50 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female Deteot ives 51 Slerra oe Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rough anch 52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise 58 Denver Doll’s Device; or, The Detective Queen 54 Denver Doll as Detective 55 Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big Buckskin the Sport 56 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Loss 57 Deadwood Dick Trapped 58 lage pore Detective; or, The Messenger Boy’s ortune 69 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport 60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission 62 Spotter Fritz: or, The Store-Detective’s Deco: 68 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sasee- fras City : 64 bg Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle ings M, J. IVBRS & CO., Publishers (James Sullivan. Proprietor), 879 Pearl Street, NEW YORK.

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Copyright 1879-1885, by Beadle & Adams, Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as second class matter. Mar. 15. 1899 No 13 THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO. . Cleveland, Ohio Vol. I BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘*DEADWOOD DICK,” ' DOUBLE DAGGERS," ETC,, BTC. BUCKHORN BILL.

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Qo BEADLE’S FRONTIER SERIES {Sc. Per Copy.: The Shawnee’s Foe. The Young Mountaineer. Wild Jim. Hawk-Eye, the Hunter. }. The Boy Guide. Pouneorons The Red Modoes. Tron Hand. Shadow Bill, the Scout. Wapawkaneta, or the Rangers of the Oneida. 11. Davy Crockett’s Boy Hunter. 12. The Forest Avenger. 18. Old Jack’s Frontier Cabin. 14. On the Deep. 15. Sharp Snout. 16. The Mountain Demon. 17. Wild Tom of Wyoming. 18. The Brave Boy Hunters of Kentucky. 119, The Feariess Ranger. 20. The Haunted Trapper. 21. Madman of the Colorado. 22. The Panther Demon. 23. Slashaway, the Fearless. 24. Pine Tree Jack. 25. Indian Jim. (26. Navaio Nick. 27. The Tuscerrora’s Vow. 28. Deadwood Dick, Jr. 29. A New York Boy Among the Indians. 30. Deadwood Dick’s Big Deal. | 31. Hank, the Guide. 32. Deadwood Dick’s Dozen. 33. Squatty Dick. 84, The Hunter’s Secret. 35. The Woman Trapper. 36. The Chief of the Miami. 87. Gunpowder Jim, 38. Mad Anthony’s Captain. 39. The Ranger Boy’s Career. 40. Old Nick of the Swamp. - 41. The Shadow Scout. 42. Lantern-Jawed Bob. 43. The Masked Hunter. 44, Brimstone Jake. oe 45. The }rish Hunter. 46. Dave Bunker. 47. Whe Shawnee Witch, 48. Big Brave. 49. Spider-Legs. paces oon BEADLE’S FRONTIER SERIES are always in print and for sale by all Newsdealers; or will be sent postpaid to any address: Single copies, 15c. sTHUR WESTBROOK CO. | GLEVELAND, OHIG War Tiger of the Modocs nh “.55. Trapper Joe. 50. Harry Hardskuli. 51, Madman of the Oconto. 52. Slim Jim. t 53. Tiger-Eye. 54. The Red Star of the Seminoles. 56. The Indian Queen’s Revenge. — 57. Eagle-Eyed Zeke. 58. Sear-Cheek, the Wild Half-Breed. 59. Red Men of the Woods. 60. Tuscaloosa Sam, 61. The Bully of the Woods. 62. The Trapper’s Bride. 63, Red Rattlesnake, The Pawnee. 64, The Scout of Tippecanoe 65. Old Kit, The Scout. 66. The Boy Scouts. 67. Hiding Tom. 68. Roving Dick, Hunter. 69, Hickory Jack. 70. Mad Mike. 71, Snake-Kye. 72, Big-Wearted Joe. 3. The Blazing Arrow. 4, The Hunter Scouts. 5. The Scout of Long Island, 6.. Turkey-Foot. 7. The Death Rangers. 8. Ballet Head. 9. The Indian Spirit. 0. The Twin Trappers. 1. Lightfoot the Scout, 2, Grim Dick. 3. The Wooden-Legged Spy. 84. The Silent Trapper. 85. Ugly YTke. 86. Fire Cloud. 87. Hank Jasper. 88. The Scout of the Sciota. 89. Black Samson. 90. Billy Bowlegs. 91. The Bloody Footprint. 92. Marksman the Hunter. 93. The Demon Cruiser. 94, Hunters and Redskins. 95, Panther Jack. 96. Old Zeke. 97. The Panther Paleface. 98. The Scout of the St. Lawrence. 99. Bloody Brook. 100. Leng Bob of Kentucky.

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Deadwood Dick e Library e HANDSOME TAL-COLORED OVER 82 Pages. Buy One and You Will Buy the Rest! For Sample Cover See Othe: Side. DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road & The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance 8 The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures 4 Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol 5 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval 6 Death-Face, the Detective 7 The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza 8 Old Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand 9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian 10 Omaha Oli, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger 11 ae sees Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to Pards of Flood eat. 12 — Dick’s -Eagles; or, The ar 18 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team 14 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter 15 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane 16 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo 17 ear Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the ule 38 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand 19 Photograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance 20 Watch-Eye, the Shadow 21 Teecyace Dick’s Device; or, The Sign of the Double ross 22 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief 23 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty 24 Deadwood Dick as Detective 25 Gilt-Edged Dick ‘ 26 Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker ; or, The Secret Twelve 27 Chip, the Girl Sport 28 Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune 29 Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks 80 Deotraee Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon's ule 81 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base 82 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent 83 Tony Fox, the Ferret: or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job 34 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike 85 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 86 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective 87 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierras 88 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo 89 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last Adventure 40 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road 41 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jezebel 42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp 43 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues eh | rc 44 Detective Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator's — Game 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme 46 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jac« in Colorado 47 The Miner Sport; or, Sugar-Coated Sam's Claim 48 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son; or, Apollo Bill, the Road-Agent 49 Sierra Sam, the Detective 50 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female Detect ives 51 a — Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rough anc 52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise 53. Denver Doll’s Device; or, ‘The Detective Queen 54 Denver Doll as Detective 55 Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big Ruckskin the Sport 56 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Loss 57 Deadwood Dick Trapped 58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The Messenger Boy’s Fortune 59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport 60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission 62 Spotter Fritz; or, The Store-Detective’s Decoy 63 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa fras Cit: 64 Colorado Charlie's Detective Dash; or, The Cattle ings