Deadwood Dick Library (v. 2) (1899 07 12)

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I eR RO XS eh Copyright 1879-1885, by Beadle & Adams, Entered at Post Office, New York. N. Y., as second class matter. Mar, 15, 1899, M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, ' Issued Weekly, (James Sullivan, Pro: Price 5 Cents. bebed s § i prietor,) Mo, 18. July 12, 1899. 379 Pearl Street Vol. II. New York, $2.50 a Year. “ Ready. gents?’ cried Simmonds, briskly. ‘* One, two, three!” The word had scarcely passed his lips, ere the knives le t the hands of the duelists and went whizzing ominously through the gir,

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EDWARD L. WHEELE iR’S DEADWOOD DICK, JR. NOVELS IN. THE, HALF-DIME ‘LIBRARY. Price 5 Cents per Copy. SSS. 443 448 453 459 465 AT 476 481 491 496 500 508 515 522 Deadweod Dick, Jr.; The Crimson Crescent Sign. Deadwood Dick, Jr’s, ae fiance. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Full Hand. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, ’ Big Round-Up. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Racket at Claim 10. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, ‘Corral. Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Dog Detective. Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Deadwood. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Compact. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Inheritance. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Diggings. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Deliverance. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Protege. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Three. §29 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Danger Ducks. 534 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death Hunt. 539 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Texas. 544. Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidoeq. 549 Deadwood Dick, Jr, on His Mettle. $64 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Gotham. 561 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Boston. 567 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Philadelphia. 572 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Chicago. 578 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Afloat. 584 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Denver, 590 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Decree. 595 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 600 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Coney Island. 606 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Leadville Lay. 612 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Detroit. 618 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Cincinnati. 624 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Nevada. 630 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in No Man’s Land. 636 Deadwood Dick, Jr., After the Queer. 642 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Buffalo. 648 Deadwood Dick, Jr’ ’S, Chase Across the Continent. 654 Deadwood Dick, Jr., glers. 660 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Insurance Case. 666 Deadwood Dick, JI; Back in the Mines, 672 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Durango. 678 Deadwood Dick, J r.’8, Discovery. 684. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dazzle. 690 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dollars. 695 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Danger Divide. 700 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Drop. 704 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Jack-Pot. 710 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at San Francisco. or, Among the Smug- in Beelzebub’s Basin. | 716 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ OTH bia aan Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, 740 TAT 752 Deadwood Dick, Jr. dike 764. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ Jr. Deadwood Dick, Deadwood Dick, 776 Deadwood Dick, fi 782 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 787 Deadwood Dick, “| Bees 792 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ "97 Deadwood Dick, 802 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 807 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 812 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 816 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 822 Deadwood Dick, 828 Deadwood Dick, 834 Deadwood Dick, 840 845° 852 858 770 Deadwood Dick, Jr,’ Deadwood Dick, Jr. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 863 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 870 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 76 Deadwood Dick, Pip ey 882 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 891 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 898 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ 904 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’ Jr. dr.’ *s, Death-Blow. ’s, Defeat. ati a fie Afoke A Deadwood Dick, Jr's, Clutch. E ’s, Still Hunt. s, Dominoes. s, Disguise. s, Double Deal. 5. Death-Watch. 2 s, Doublet. s, Desperate Strait. s, Lone Hand, s, Resurrection. a *s, Dark Days. Defied. *s, Double Device. : ’s, Desperate Venture, — s, Diamond Dice. yi 8, Royal Flush, 2 s, Head-Off. : s, Rival. s, Boom? s, Scoop. s, Proxy. s, High Horse. "3 at Devil's Gulch. s, Death-Hole Hustle. s, Bombshell. ms in Mexico. a 8, Decoy Duck, , In Siiver Pocket. sg, Dead-Sure Game. s, Double Drive. s, Trade- Mark. 910 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Tip-Top. 916 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Double-Decker. 928 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Dollarville. 934 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Flush Flats, Se - 940 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Shake-Up. 3 946 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Double Drop. 951 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Right Bower. 957 Deadwood Dick. Jr.’s, Ten-Strike, oe 965 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Gold Dust. 3k 971 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Oath. wa 977 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death-Doom. a 980 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Best Card. P 992 Deadwood Dick, Jr. ; at Gold Dust. + pe 998 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Big Play. 20 1005 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Branded. i 1011 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dutch Pard. & 1018 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Big Four. Fi r. For sale by all néwsdealers or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, 5c. per copy, by the publish: ers, M. J. IVERS & CO., 379 Pear. Srreer ~ , New York Crry.

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®opyright 1879-1885, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as second class matter, Mar, 15, 180%. — ERAS SI Tw 24a OO > H ay \ Na Issued Weekly. hes aN es os CO: Aukid era Price 5 Cents uU ‘ (James Sullivan, Proprietor,) ‘ . 0 Jove bOe” July 12, 1899. 40 Pohl Stiskic New Lotles $2.50 a Year. sik ———— — oe ee = IDYL, BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. i . “Ready, gents” cried Simmonds, briskly. ‘* One, two, ‘Aree /” The word had searcely passed his Tipsy! : ere the ki di he air, es of knives lett the han: s of the duelists and went whizzing ominously sbrough Bs STS ee ee tae Aa E

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a Idyl, the Girl Miner; ROSEBUD ROB ON -HAND. Rosebud Rob Novels, No. 2. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR oF ‘' DEADWOOD DICK’ NOVELS, “ ROSEBUD ¥ ROB” NOVELS, ETC,, ETC, CHAPTER I. THE SPORT AND THE GAMESTER—THE UNKNOWN. THE opening scene is in Hayward City—a notable mining-fown, which has contributed its share toward making for the Black Hills country a reputation and notoriety second to none in the world as a district of mineral wealth and picturesque scenery, and with the most motley group of citizens within the scope of a continent. Fi We conduct the reader into a strange scene Wwith- in the walls of an establishment known asthe “ Full Hand ”—an enormous hand, manufactured of wood, holding a pack of cards, and hung above the en- trance, giving the place its name, It was exclusively a gambling den, run upon a large scale, No liquors were sold within the walls, and it was frequented only by the better class. The “ Full Hand” was not divided, but left in one long parlor, which was handsomely carpeted and the walls Hane: with fine pictures. The tables and chairs were all the best of their kind, and everything about the apartment was suggestive of elegance. It is evening, and about the marble-top marbles under the brilliant lamp-chandeliers, are gathered men of all ages; but it is noticeable that all are quiet in demeanor, and moreover, generally well-dressed. Many, judged by their attire, are Basterners, while others, at a glance, are children of the Western plains or mountains, One figure of the throng attracted special atten- tion—that of a woman in male attire. Everybody knows and recognizes her by a nod, as she saunters about; indeed. it must be a stranger in the country of gold who has not seen or, at least. heard of the twin dare-devils—Calamity Jane an Baltimore Bess, It was the latter who was now sauntering about the parlor of the Full Hand, watching now and then the different games, or the votaries thereof. She pauses before a table where two men are playing poker, and looks on complacently, A glance tells her that they are strangers in the mines. The one is a young fellow of psrhaps twenty-five eae brawny, stalwart son of the West, whose imbs speak of iron and muscle, He was clad in a hunting-suit of some coarse dark stuff, liberally fringed with fur of the mink, while knee-hoots, a belt of weapons, and a black slouch hat comploted his outfit. is face was one that many would fancy—a dark face, with Spanish blood coursing through the veins —a face that though dark was capable of expression seft and tender. The features were all well-cast; the eyes were as black as jet, with a shrewd, wild light in their glance; and a pointed mustache, and long hair that swept the shoulders, were of a corre- sponding hue. The man’s companion was a florid, fat-faced indi- vidual, with sandy hair, colorless eyes, and a luxuri- ant pair of “ Burnsides,” which ever and anon he stroked complacently. His clothing was all of the finest texture and cut; his shirt-front immaculate, and studded with diamonds, and his vest-front orna- _ mented with a goleen cable-chain. A jaunty Derby hat and a single pyorins completed the make-up of ® "eine Boglish aristocrat, 8 Seas {dyl, the Giri Miner. ee, err, eo And it appeared that the Britisher was no novice at eard-playing, for he won with a regularity that was astonishing—to Baltimore Bess, at least, who was an authority in such matters. “See heer, Spanish!” she said, with a whistle denoting surprise, ‘‘ how much has that chap wi’ ther slugging won out 0’ yer pile?” : : nae Spaniard looked up and surveyed the girl keenly, cA square hundred, miss,’’ he said, after a mo- ment, ‘Why?’ ) “ Because I do hate to see an Englisher get ahead o’ us Americans. Did ye evyer heer ther story about ther American who went over to see John Bull? Wal, this chap war shown around by an obliging citizen, and expressed his opinyun o’ everything as werry appropriate. Finally they entered a hos- hem among the sick and dyin’, There, lo! an* ehold, war the picter o’ George Washington hung up in plain view. “What think you of that?’ the Brit. demanded, maliciously, . “*T think it matt appropriate ter ther occasion,” war the Yank’s reply. 4 “<Fow so?’ the Brit. a asked, in surprise. “Qh! thet’s easy enuff. Thet picter hung np in an English sick room, ar’ a werry expressive em- blem. Yeknow thar nevyer war a feller asmade John Bull much sicker then thet same George o’ hatchet fame!’ An’ thet’s my exact idea!” concluded Bess amid roars of laughter from the bystanders. The Spaniard also smiled, as he noted his oppo- nent bite his lips. The game went on and the Spaniard lost at ever turn, while the Englishman smiled. and stroked his beard with the grandiloquent manner of a conquer- or, “The {oe is mine, Sir Spaniard,” he said, rak- betta the pile with a flourish. “You are broke, eh?” ““Youhave all my money,” the Spaniard replied bitterly, “I was a fool to wrestle against fate. But it isno time to back out now. I must have back,my money. It is not mine, but Berenice’s. Will any ope loan me ten dollars to turn the game?” There was no response. : AG were there, evidently, who cared to back the gambler, E i “You had a boy with you a bit ago. Just for the novelty of the thing, put him up,” the Englishman said, with a strange glitter in his eyes. “He is a ead Be lad, and I'll offset. him with a hundred ollars, The Spaniard started violently, and shut his teeth together savagely. A terrible spell seemed to be working uponhim, His chest heaved, and his breath came sharp and quick. “Qurse you!’ he gasped, with a shudder, “You have it all your own way. I lose—what then?” “Why, naturally, I have fhe boy. What T winT ma‘e it a point to keep. Come, decide at once. If you wish to risk the boy, put him up and win back what you have lost—if you can, Otherwise, I'll bid youa ei good-night,” The Spaniard bowed his head upon his hands, a eee evidently struggling with the tempta- ion. Then, a moment later, he rose to his feet, his dusky face pale and stern, and aterrible glitter in his eyes, as he gazed at the English gamester. *T am obliged to make the venture!”’ he said, huskily.” “Itis a terrible thing for a father to risk his only child upon a game of chance, but the money T have lost belonged to Berenice. I must win it back, or ny wife will ne’er again look upon my face.” There was a pathos in the tone of the speaker thaf impressed the bystanders deeply, and they gath- ered about the table, of one accord, with bated breath to watch, Giving a peculiar whistle, the Spaniard called to — bis side the wager he was to make against his oppo- nent--a bright-faced, sunny-haired little boy of five

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Idyl, the Girl Miner, emer or six years, who was clad in trowsers and ee with tiny top-boots upon his feet, and asmall fur cap upon his wavy golden hair. A sweet little fellow he was, and a murmur of ad- miration escaped the lookers-on as the Spaniard raised him upon his knee. “Gentlemen!” the Spaniard said, ‘‘l am about to risk my little son i agame of chance. My name is the same name that, years ago, threw the south- western gold mines into a phrensy of excitement, and I am the son of the noted road-rider, whose name I bear—Jouquin Muriete !” A low murmur ran through the room, and curious glances were leveled upon the Junior Joaquin: for tbere were men in the den who had lived in the days of the senior, and had had dealings with him that caused his dark face ever to be in theireyes. After a moment, Joaquin, Jr., went on: “Tam going to risk my son, in order that I may win back that which was intrusted to my care’ by a loving wife. Little Pet,” and the man looked into the pretty up-turned face of his child, with a tear glistening in either cye—‘ Little Pet, do you under- stand? If I lose this game, that’man across the table owns you, and will take you away from me and mamma!)”’ A startled, scared look came over the face of the child, as he regarded the English gamester through his big blue eyes. He did not seem to understand the full meaning of the words—it was more his child- ish fear of strangers which caused him to blanch. “Come!” the gambler said, ie ah “Jf you are going to play, drop the boy, and deal the paste- erate I kave other business to attend to, to- night! Joaquin kissed his child twice upon the forehead, and then stood him up on the floor by bis side. He turned to the game, like one moved by me- chanism. The crowd about the table had increased in num- bey and all stood with silent interest to watch the aine. = Baltimore Bess raised Little Pet up in her arms. “Ye purty little picter!” she murmured, stroking back the soft sumny hair. ‘‘So they're goin’ ter gamble you off, eh? Et’s a blasted shame, an’ ef I know it Baltimore Bess ll be around ter purtect you. Do you love mamma, Pet?” : “T love mamma, and papa?” the little fellow said, throwing hisarms about herneck, ‘ AndI love you, too! _ Something ‘like a tear came into Bess's feye, but she quickly brushed it away. The game was now opened. The Englishman was cool, confident. _ ‘The Spaniard was nervous, and trembled visibly, Een PHe: he endeavored to shake off “his agita- tion. He was conscious that all eyes were upon him— conscious that he was losing that. which, next toa loving wife, he held dearest to his heart. At last, he threw down the only card in his hand, and staggered to his feet, with a gasp. While the cool, cynical voice of the Britisher said: “T am the winner, sir, and the boy is mine!’? “Yes, yours!” Joaquin said, hoarsely. ‘My Gol! ~what_a fool I have been! hat a madman to be- lieve I could change my luck!’ ‘A hush of death prevailed within the room. Every eye was turned upon the Spaniard, His face had grown strangely white, his limbs seemed momentarily paralyzed; he reeled like one in a state of intoxication. “The boy is mine!” repeated the winner, a spice of the malicious in his tone, as he glanced at the in- nocent child. ‘You need not fear for the welfare of your off- spring, Sir Joaquin. As it happens that I am an English lord, T'll bring the little fellow up, and make a title for him.” “A title!” Joaquin gasped, glaring at him wildly. _ “A title! That does not give me back my child!” 3 “Well, no, not exactly,” the other returned, with a sarcastic laugh. ‘There is no law that can take him away from me now!” “Hol ho!” exclaimed Baltimore Bess, “Thet’s ther wrong kind o’ fruit fer buzzards to eat, John Bull. Ef ther court ain’t of, J’ve got the lad, an’ ossession’s two or sev’ril p’ints o’ ther law, accord- rm’ ter ther hyma books; an’, as, thar’s none thet know better how ter handle a six-shooter, I’m bet- tin’ ther galoot.ye kall Joaquin, he hes his b’yee, ef he wants et!’” The Englishman adjusted his eye-glass and stared at the dare-devil in astonishment. ‘Oh! ye needn’t peek at me thr'u’ thet small-sized windy-pane,” the girl continued, unabashed. ,‘‘Ji’s me, way down ter ferra-firi.a, you bet! Baltimore Bess is my fronticepiece, ef ye want ter know et. | Here, Joaquin, junior, take your child, and I’ll dare! —ay! double-dare!—any man present ter try ter hinder you!” f The Spaniard started forward, half-eagerly; but the next moment he staggered back again, his face stern and pale as death, , 7 “Wo | he said, a hoarse menacein his tone. ‘“t will not take the child. The Englishman won, and I never squirm out of my wagers. If, however, I can raise money enough *twixt this and morning, I will play_to win him back.” “On the contrary, you will do nothing of the kind,” the lord said, with a chuckle. “I refuse, hereafter. to flip so much asa pare card with you. Come! bid your child adieu, for I wish to retire to my hotel!” A murmur of indignation was heard on either hand; but it did not seem to affect the winner, for = smiled evilly and stroked his luxuriant “ Burn- sides.’ Joaquin gave him a glance which was far from loving. and then ee imprinted a hasty kiss upon the child’s fcrehead. “ Good-by, my poor boy!’ he gasped, in a choked voice; then he staggered toward the door, tears roll- ing down his brown cheeks. “*Papa! papa!” Little Pet called, struggling to ge to the floor from Bess’s arms. é e At the door Jeaquin paused, and gazed back, Ev- ery eye was upon him. very man in the room was watching him, with a” Spice of pity at heart. The strong man gave a last, farewell glance at the child, his features working with emotion: then he . turned his black, gleaming eyes upon the English- man. whose*gaze wavered, and face grew a shade less florid. : It was a terrible glance of undying hatred that glowed from the Spaniard’s eyes, and every man in the room felt its deadly magnetism. ; Then, after a moment, the man’s chin had drop- ped until it rested upon his breast. He turned me~ chanically, opened the door, and was gone, out in the blackness of a moonless night. When he was out of sight, Baltimore Bess turned and faced the Englishman, who was regarding her pe cynical glance, which brought a flush to her cheeks. ‘ : “Tell me your name!’’ she said, in her decisive way. PO, certainly!” was the reply, and the foreigner laid a card upon the table near by. ‘My name is Cavendish—Lord Byron Cavendish, at your lady-. ship’s service. In what way can I serve you?” “Serve me?” cried Bess. scornfully. ‘ W’en et cums thet er Englisher hes ter serve me, bucket, you bet! Joaquin said you should have the boy, andso hereheis. But, mind you, in taking him, if ye ever so much as harm a hair of his precious little head, I'll transform ye inter a monument fera hole in ther ground, quicker’n a bullwhacker evyer soaked p’izen!” _ Aloud cheer from the crowd was sufficient guar-_ antee that the ae spirit was in keeping wit that of the dare-devil. meee é

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ee eae € Lord Cavendish smiled defiantly, as he seized Joa- quin’s terrified child, and raised him in his arms. ©Don’t fear that the child will suffer harm by being in my possession!” he said, moving toward the door. “ Au revoir, alll” He turned to make bis exit, but in doing so, ran fairly against an individual who had just en ered. * Awl I say, it’s deuced unkind of you to mistake me for a battering-ram. Aw! Who is the awful swell, anyhow?” and an eye-glass was poised in front of the new-comer’s left optic, while he surveyed the Englishman ereoaly. His lordship had also stepped back a pace in order to scan the dindified character, with whom he had collided. For the individual in question was made up on de- cidedly dandyish principies, to say the least. His immaculate white shirt and vest, and his fashionably cut clothing were allof the best mate- rial, while the polished silk hat, a flaming red neck- tie, a ponderous fold chain strung several times across his vest, a liberal display of flashing jewelry, and a gold-headed cane, to say nothing of the ex- uisitely fitting patent-leathers upon his feet, were * the general items of his outfit Evidently the English lord was in a degree startled by the apparition, for he completed his survey with a contemptous humph. “ Who in the name of the queen are you?” he de- manded, ewetaN “Hello! by all ther wildcats thet evyer chawed mother-in-laws. Ef I don’t kaow that gallus galoot, may | never ag’in be called a man o ther peeple. Et's Rosebud Rob, the Sport, an’ Ul bet my chips on it, you bet. Hyar, old pard, just lend us yer paw wile | wring ther grip out o’ et!” “Aw, is that you, Bessee?”’ the Sport said, shak- ing hands with the girl. “‘Glad to see you! But, aw! I say, by Jove! who is the individual who bumped against me?” “Haw! haw! Don’t ye know, Rosey? That’s the galoot who sets himself up ter be a lord wy creation. Cavendish is hisname. He do luk like a caven sort o’ dish, don’t he, now!” © Aw?!’ the Sport said, with a grand sniff, ‘A most deucedly insolent puppy—ah}, ’pon honor; a cross between the mongre! cur and the—the coyote Joma” Ha! hal Good joke, eh? Deucedly pointed joke! ““What do you mean by insulting Lord Cavendish growled, advancin, “Do you know an Englishman of ‘ ceives insult, without retaliation?” tAw! is thattrue? Really, you must excuse my g to English blood. Aw! you are 80 deucedly clever, my lord, what do you say to tak- 0g 4 scull—just for exercise, you see?” ; nd in his hands the dandy sport held a glistening pair of revolvers. ~*~ Cavendish saw them—saw that matters had an un- healthy outlook for him, and with a curse, he seized Joaquin’s child in his arms again, and left the gam- ling house. me, you fool?” threateningly. lood never re. - ignorance pertainin CHAPTER II. THE HERMIT OF CASCADE CITY—IDYL. Many miles to the north and west of Hayward - Gity, among the mountain wilds, was one of those hidden valleys, so many of which have puzzled the surveyors of Jenny’s expedition, as in many in- - ‘stances they closely resemble each other. The mouth of the one in question, at its southern extremity, was narrow, and choked with dense growths of chaparral, and very few would have suspected the existence of the valley, or have at- tempted to penetrate into it. Beyond the chaparral it ran on northward, Sere up of timber and be- potas grassy and level at the bottom, from whence it gradually sloped into rugged foothills, and emerged into mountains of almost perpendicular rock, he valley was several miles long, and finally end, dpb sey aS ~ 2 we Idy!, the Gir] Miner. ET, ed in the face of a large waterfall, or caseade, which leaped from crag to ledge, until it fell at last in a wide, glass-like sheet into the valley, and rushed Late io foam-flecked rapids through a narrow channel. It was the picturesque beauty of Nature's scenic band, and one standing among the distant cra) that sided the valley could but be impressed with — the combined grandeur and beauty of the scene, The erystal waters tumbling down the rugged rocks from far above with musical din; the little valley with its rushing waters, its flowered banks, an green and autumnal variegated colors—the single little Jog-eabin with its well-weeded garden patch which nestled down almost in under the shadow 0} the falls—all these items lent to the scene a peculiar charm, that was pleasant and lulling to the human sense, At least it was so toa single person who, posted up among the crags, was idly surveying the view through a powerful field-glass. He was a fair-skinned, fair-haired young fellow, stalwart and well-proportioned, with a face attrac- tive in its regularity of feature, the expressive brown eyes, and a firm mouth, ey, ahaded by a mus- tache, A guess at his age would have given him not more than three-and-twenty years, Neatly attired, and armed with weapons of a supe- rior make, he looked wholly unlike the sportsman occasionally met with in the Western mountains. Thore was that in his dress and bearing which spcke both of refinement and a genial nature, He evidently was much interested in the scene be- low him, for he gazed upon it long and admiringly. “Tt is beautiful!” he finally murmured, Tower his glass and recasing it, “If I were an artist I should never stop short of painting the views here- abouts. In my Yared the spot below there dis- © counts any views have yet seen in America, And the cabin yonder, under the shadow of the waterfall seems singularly out of place, for I see no 8 0. human presence. Just such a spot as that would I select for my future home, were I not—well, if I - hadn't a Sic prefixed to my name, and were not ex- pecting to step into an obliging uncle's shoes. With a, pretty wife, why couldn’t a fellow have a jolly life down in this secluded mountain nook? I’m goiog down into the valley,” he said at last, slinging his handsome rifle behind his back. ‘‘ Even if the cabin is untenanted, a fellow could spend an agreeable day onthat green grass. Wonder if Cavendish will miss me? fle’s able to take care of himself; so here goes. And the young baronet began to clamber down from crag to erag, in order to get into the valley. Tt was no easy job, and several times he nearly lost his footing, and was on the eve of being precipitated to the rocks below. But he was quick, and possegsed of considerable pipes and after a series of harmless tumbles and ae “4 descended a grassy slope into the heart of e valley. ' Pausing a moment to rest, he made a discovery which he had not observed through his glass. ; In spots the bottom. of the valley was sandy, and these spots were staked off by little flags upon sticks. There had been channels opened here and there, and rows of sluice-boxes constructed, with a peaeente to turn off or on water from the rushing stream, In fact, everything was hardy for wash-mining, and miners’ implements lay scattered about upon the ground, i : “Well! well! So it chances that T have ‘stumbled down and struck it rich.’ as these artistes-in-dizging have it,” the young baronet said, with a puzzled ex- pe “Some one has got a mine here, all b imself, Secluded, and most charmingly located, too. I wonder what lucky mortal may be chiet here? Surely, there is but little chance for discovery pie! a freak caused me.to penetrate this solituda wt + "the eabin, yonder and, as T live, there’

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Idyi, the Girl Miner. ¢ man sitting in under the willow, by the door. Hur- tab! V’ll strike for him, as sure as my name is Tom le a Sv at the extreme fore-pari of “y” And, true to his word, the young tourist started off on a swift stride toward the cabin, which was’ several hundred yards away. As he approached the cabin, he perceived that it had a home-like appearance. A door and a couple of windows fronted westward, and a portico shadow- ad the door, while over all towered a large willow. A little pebbled path ran down to the edge of the stream, and on either side was bordered by beds of cultivated flowers, which sent forth a delicious by fume. Back of the cabin was a well-kept garden, boasting of pee cabbage, corn, and many other products of eastern gardens, and every where were neatness and thrift. Under the willow-tree, in a great rustic arm-chair, sat an old man—a cripple, evidently, as a pair of crutches lay upon the ground by his side, watched over by an ugly-looking canine companion, of a de- cided bull-dog appearance. The man was thin and emaciated in form and face, with a hollow look about the eyes, and a sunk- enness of the cheeks, that bespoke the working of some disease. His hair was snowy white, but of beard he had none. As for his garments they were of the commonest material, but, at the same time, clean and unpatched. As Tom Somerset anproached in his free graceful stride, the old man attempted to rise, but sunk back with a gasp of exhaustion. “Fray do not be alarmed!” Sir Tom said, reas- suringly. “I ave not come to do you harm, but, rather, to beg your hospitality, for a few days, for which I will pay you ltberally.” “Who are you?” the old man demanded, suspi- cionsly, eying the baronet with a keen gaze. “‘ Why have you come here?” *‘ Yor no bad purposes, let me assure you,” Somer- set, said. taking a seat upon the rocky doorstep. “Tam an English tourist, who, in company with an- other companion, has been doing the American con- tinent, and seeing the sights. Yesterday. I started off in this direction. in seareh of gold, game or any thing that might tend to interest me. And it turns cet that I dropped right down into this lovely re- reat. “Then you like the picture?” the cripple demand- ed, waving his hand about him, with an expression of pride upon his grizzled features—‘‘ you like it?” “Most certainly. Any one with half an eye for beauty could do no less than pay Nature an ad- ri Mee! ee in recognition of the loveliness of his spot.’ The enthusiastic speech of the young stranger seemed to banish any prejudices the old man may have had. ‘What is your name. young man?” he demanded. “S'r Thomas Somerset, at your serviec—usually abbreviated to plain Tom Somerset, as I am, in no particular, proud of my title.” “That at least shows good sense on your part,” the other replied. ‘“My name is Abbey—Jason Ai bey, though by the few who have ever visited me here [am known as Old Elk, the Hermit.” “*Then you have lived here long, sir?” ‘** Ay!—long as ten years: before the gold fever broke out into a blast in the Black Hills, T worked my way here, and built my home, with the inten- tion of becoming a recluse from the wiles and vil- iainy of a wicked world. Since the day I first en- vered it, I have never left this valley, but twice. So you see, Ihave been a hermit, i the true sense of the word, young man,” “Indeed, yes. You must have had strong cause for isolating yourself so long from your fel!ow-men.” “Yes, there were deep and strong causes—and many ofthem. One, I was tired of sin and the sin- ning; an unseen hand pointed out to me the que peace of this life, and with my child, then but little 5 better than a babe, Icame. With my child and with my G d, I have led a blessed life, and have been far lag than I should have been, had I not come!” “But, how have you been able to maintain your- self, all these years in what is yet literally a howling wilderness?” “Until within a year past, I have been in good health, and gained a living with my rifle, and such vegetables as I could raise with my little spot of garden. Since] have become afflicted with consump- es. and the rheumatism, my child has taken my place, “How old is your son?” ; ha! ha! Inever was blessed witha son, “ My son? Idyl is a girl.” “Jayit” ii ae: es. Does the name strike you as being pecu- ar?” * “T must admit that it does,” Sir Tom replied, “TI can’t say that I ever heard a name applied to wo- man so odd and yet so pretty.” “And Idyl is asodd and eccentric as her name—as fearless as a lion—as breve as they make’em, She will be in from a hunt, soon,” “But you have not yet told me if you would give me the hospitality of yourboard!” Sir Tom reminded. “ Ah! Lhad forgotten it. Y-yes, you are welcome to stay, 08 long as you behave yourself, and coutee to ge nee gen over my child. Remember, the first. word of compliment or love you speak to her, i will cause you to repent, even though you know vot how. I weleome you as my guest—no more.” “You reed not fear that I shail entangle myself in Cupid’s nét!” Sir Tom replied, with a laugh,’ “By the way. who is the other companion, of whom you epole?” the Hermit asked. : “Oh! Lore Cavendish. I left him in Haywa t rd, to his cards. vin: and cigars. while I explored the ‘naw mountains anu enjoyed their wondro scenery |” Old and was silent for several moments. He seemed to be trying to recall something which had been fami- ho to him in the past, but had grown dim and indis-* inct. “Youssay your name is Somerset?” he at Jast in- terrogated, looking up. ‘‘I once knew of the Somer-~ sets of Derbyshire—” “You then knew m repiled, ‘for he live born. Hisname was Sir Gerald.’ The old man shook his head with a smile, “Tt might have been, but my memory has so de- serted me in my latter years, that I can rarely re- member any of the scenes or associations of my early life.” be You must be pretty well advanced in years, then?’ “Nay; there is many en older man than I. whose head is brown instead of white. Tam but forty-five, sir, though ae would judge me past seventy.” “Indeed Tshould! hat, may I ask, has n the cause of your premature age?’ “Ah! it was that which brings many a man to his grave. The double scavengers—trouble and con- sumption—the latter perhaps caused by incessant worry superinduced by the former, But, think not that [am even unhappy, wreck aslam, Iam hap- Pier now than many a man with erect frame and e appearance. ere is One above whom I am, proud to call my Father; besides. I have carefull father, no doubt,” Sir Tom when you must have been reared one of the flowers of ail women, in my Idyl. — You shall see her presently.” f “Tam already eager to see her—am anxious to | meet this paragon of the wilderness,” Sir Tom mut- tered under his breath, while aloud he said: “T shall be much pleased to meet your daughter, sir; and I trust while I stop, I may be regarded, not as ostranger, but as a son to you. : “Tf you need my assistance or money—"’ “Fa! ha! you would offer me money, eh?” th man chuckled, as if there was Co. a lk bowed his head forward upon hishands, é ¥

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~ seen her married to a AOvine é Idyl, the’ Girl Miner. to him in the simple idea. ‘‘Why, young man, 1 dare mie Jam worth more to-day than you, with all your titles and lordly estates! Yousee those claims own the valley yonder, which ae esif they had never been more than staked off. Well, sir, I have worked them patches of sand for eight long years— washed out the gold grains, and hoarded them away in amounts which would make your eyes sparkle. My riches are buried where no one but myself can ever find them, without directions from me.” “ But how, pray, could you have worked so long in one or more beds of sand? There must be a bottom where there is no gold.” “T’ll tell you the secret,” the old man said, in a whisper. ‘Every new moon the water of the cas- cade increases in volume and washes through the valley, in some places overflowing the banks by two feet. When the flood has subsided, those spots fay ieee water overflowed are covered with golden sands. ‘ “Ah, yes! Isee. So, when you wash out one for- tune, the tide brings you another.”” actly.” \Ex: Well, you have indeed a bonanza. Is there no uartz ore in the immediate vicinity of this valley that would pay better thin this surface dirt?” Sir Tom asked. “None at all. The quartz formation abruptly ends many miles from here, and, also, there is no fairly- paying surface dirt until you strike this valley. Con- sequently, few but hunters enter here.” “I suppose you have to bribe them to keep the se- eret of your fortune, eh?” “Not at all. Those who have come have been so well received, that they would be more than ingrates sto betray me in my solitude.” “Besides, what could they do to remain? You have all the best portions of the valley staked off, eh? You were first, end, consequently, are last pos- sSessor.”’ “Of course. They could ill afford to try and rout me out of my snug little hermitage. Besides, the mines renter, and all the tools, belong to Idyl, to whom I sold out my interest.” “ And she now does the running in place of your- self, sir?” “Exactly. And fully as well, too. But, come in- to the cabin, young man, and I'll see if we cannot hunt you up something fit to eat. As the day has several hours of light yet, it is not likely my child will return immediately.” “Pray do not put yourself to the least trouble,” Sir Tom replied. ‘* Before I eat, I must beg to leave you, until I can fetch a noble horse, whom I left in the mountains. By that time, perhaps, Miss Abbey will have returned. I shall not be long, I trust!’’ And then the young baronet strode away down tha vailey, whistlinz merrily. It was evident that his spirit was free and unfettered, and the same might have been safely added concerning his heart. The old Hermit of Cascade Ranch, as he had named his possessions, gazed after Sir Tom with a keen, scrutinizing glance—a look full of questioning anxiety, and maybe a tittle of suspicion. “A fine-feathered bird!” was his muttered obser- vation; ‘‘as a rule, they are of little value. A bar- onet, and undoub‘edly well-heeled, or else he would not be traveling@in this country. He is well-edu- cated, refined, and liberal. Ah) ‘young man, I shall study oe deeply, and solve your worth. If you prove to be your father’s own son, T have suc rize for you, a: no true man could fail to worship. erald Somerset, of the bygone days, is dead. Poor fellow. He was a noble and generous soul, and if his boy is the same, it shall not be ill forhim. He shall. if he so desires, woo and wed my child—my Peer Idyl, whom I regard as the fairest and loveliest creature of her.sex. Then, when I have husband, I shall give her my treasured wealth, and be content to pass out _of this solitary existence, into a sphere of life which of the Golly = } wer As he ceased his mutterings, the old recluse bowed his head forward, and seemed wrapped in thought of a deep, ay, sacred nature. “Papal” exclaimed a cheery voice, ‘‘ papa, what is the matter?” CHAPTER III. JOAQUIN’S COTTAGE—BERENICE’S RESOLVE. A NEw road had been cut through the mountain wilderness. Men were at work upon it—men in masks, too, who seemingly were chary to show their faces to the light of day? The road wound from one side of a giant moun- tain, in a semicircle, around to the opposite side, where it ended, uncompleted, on the ed rocky bluffs which arose to the east of Cascade Valley, At the eastern commencement of the road the ay ‘6 trail ran through Blind Canyon and connected with it. The length of the new road, so far as constructed, must have been eleven or twelve miles; while it yet lacked a couple of miles of debouching into the littie een where Jason Abbey held his own. ) ee in the construction of the Mebiey was evident, for nearly midway between its two termi: nations stood a little shanty, in front of whicha gate was stationed. Back of the shanty was a larger ex. tension, which was built against a face of rock. A neatly painted sign hung over the door of the shanty, bearing the inscription: “* JOAQUIN’s ToLt-GaTE.” A woman sat upon the steps of the shanty, glane. ing ever and anon up and down the newly-finished dugway, while her deft fingers plied the needles that were working into shape a beautiful aS shawl. A plainly-attired, unpretentious little body this woman—young, even below the age of nineteen, if one could judge by appearances, _ Just of the medium hight and development was she, with a clear-cut brunette face; eyes and hair as black as jet, and teeth pearly white. There was an expression of quiet content, mixed with oe. anxiety about her face, which was peculiarly attrac ive. Then, occasionally, she would allow a pensive smile to steal about her lips, and her eyes would brighten up wonderfully. “Dear Joaquin, and Pet!” she murmured softly, as the needles clicked merril ly together. *‘ HowIhave missed them both. Joaquin promised me his stay should be short—vet, he has already been gore over a week. Can it be that he has gone back to the gaming-table again? No, God forbid! He promised me with the last kiss that he would not play agame, and T cannot believe he would break his word, “And, yet, I cannot account for his tardiness. He was to take the last money, which my father left me, and purchase powder with which complete the blasting of our road, Then. we shall begin to realize the returns for our investment. The labor- ers can be discharged, and with the income brought in by the toll-travel, oh! how nicely we could live! Poor Joaquin! where would he have been now had not a woman’s guiding hand lured him away from the gaming-table? He was {going down-hill to de- pla at a rapid pace, when I first met him, ow— ' An anxious cloud mantled the young wife’s brow. The ‘‘ Now ” was suggestive of many a change. As the wife sat pondering over these questions her gaze fell upon a horseman coming up the road and she arose to her feet with a little ery of delight and waved her zephyr-work in the air, for she recog nized in the new-comer her husband, as well as his snow-white steed. | But the enthusiastic glow suddenly died out of her face and eyes, and she reeled, back, a sudden compression of her lips making her appear grim sa and stern. She leaned against the door-post for support, and glared toward the approaching horseman, as if she n Ww cts toys flee,” 4 i whe’ Fi een Lies r ay ra

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Idyl, the Girl Miner. eg she dreaming—or had she suddenly gone mi jttle Pet was not with Joaquin! 0! not with him; and the sharp eyes of the wife detected the hesitation of the husband in approach- ing—saw a guilty flush upon his face, asullen gleam in his dark eye. She set her teeth hard together, and nerved her- nee bitterness of death was gnawing at her heart- strings. Nearer and nearer the horse of the husband ap- roached, until it stopped in front of the gate, and Joaquin Muriete sat with folded arms, and bowed head. 4’ He knew that the, to him be ease accusing eyes of his wife were npon him; he cou them pone into his heart and mind. And, he sat, silently guilty; bitterly repentant, fiercely re- vengeful—upon his foes. “ Joaquin!’ Berenice spoke the name with its full Spanish ac- cent—spoke it in a tone of immeasurable contempt, mingled equally with sternness and pity—in a tone that caused Muriete to tremble visibly. But he:com- manded himself by a master effort, and raised his eyes to meet her burning guze. “Berenice, I return alone!” he said, hoarsely. “Do not ask me what has become of’ the child, for—for—” “*You would not tell me, eh?” she finished, with a frightened gasp; ‘‘ but you shall tell me, Joaquin -- ou shall tell me where is our child—our little dar- ae or Pu—” 7 She hesitated to complete the sentence, and thrust ae revolver she had drawn back into the folds of her ress. “Go on! do what was then ae in your mind,” Joaquin said, with a bitter laugh. “Take my miserable life, and you will save me the trouble of committing suicide.’ A horrified, frightened expression came into her eyes as she listened to him. He spoke in that same reckless way—with the same biting bitterness which had been characteristic of him in the past, when the devil had levied a mortgage upon his soul and body —hnd she had bought him over. “ell me where is our child?” she gasped, when she could find power to speak again. * Dead!” he replied, with another bitter chuckle, ‘dead, forever. to you and me! Do not chide me, Berenice, but hear me out. Ihave been lying in the mountains three days and nights trying to summon courage to appear before you, and, at last, | am here. That terrible gaze take away—I cannot bear it. It will drive me furious in five minutes. The words you would say repress, lest I refuse to tell you of your child!” é Berenice bowed her head with a groan of anguish, She yearned, yet feared, to hear the worst. “As I said, the child is forever dead to you and me,” Joaquin went on, “Igambled him away, as id literally feel ' well as the money which you gave me to purchase powder with. I shall not attempt to apologize for myself, I broke my promise to you in a weak mo- ment, and gambled away your child. I ask you not to forgive me—I crave but one boon from you!” “What?” Berenice asked, calmly. She had just found a new-born over her heart—over her emotions. “You shall know!” Joaquin said. leaping from his saddle to the ground, and drawing a revolver. “Here, take this weapon, and put a bullet through my heart!”’ His bitterness of tone was proof enough, that he was in earnest. He wasnot the man to joke, insuch g. moment as this. Berenice shrunk back with a little ery of horror. “No! no!” she said, with a quiver. ‘Joaquin Muriete, I will not take your life, nor that of any man, Though as fierce blood runs in my veins as ia yours, I will not do murder by way of satisfying @ revengeful craving, God joined our hands to- power of control ‘ ae Stee 7 gether as man and wife. The bond is henceforth broken. Our paths diverge, here; you go your way, I go mine!” , ; * Berenice!” ““Nay! do not speak to me, in that way, I ne Jonger can be p-oved to even respect the men who~ would gamble away his child!” she cried, passion- ately. ‘All the love for you will I crush out of my heart-—all wifely affections will I smother, until you bring me back my child! Don’t think to beg—’tis -useless. I go, now, never to return, until you bring me back that of which you have robbed me!” She turned back into the shanty, with a cold bow, and after she was gone. Joaquin, Jr., sat down up- on a little bench, which stood near at hand, and bowed his head, while tears coursed down his brown - cheeks, He spoke not—only a shudder, now and then, be- spoke the agony he was undergoing. — ‘ Berenice came out, presently, with a firm, décided stép, in which there was no faltering. A hooded cloak w4s fastened about her shoulders, and she carried a little paper-enveloped bundle. “T hy xave taken what few clothes I may need to wear,” she said, pausivg a moment, and gazing | “ You are welcome keenly up and down the road. to the rest—can even gamble them away, if you choose. Good-by, forever perhaps.” * Berenice!” She did not reply, but walked away down the eastward road, leaving Joaquin gazing after her like a man bereft of his senses. r At last she came to a bend, around which she would pass from view of the shanty. Would she look back? Would she care to gaze back toward the man who had caused her so much needless pain? Joaquin leaned forward, his gaze fastened eagerly upon her, his heart beating wildly,-his breast coming: in quick gasps of hope. F earer—nearer she approaches to the bend. Hal she— goes on and passes out of sight, without turn- ing her head in the least. r hen, there rises an awful cry upon the clear mountain air—a weird, anguished shrie , which the canyon currents catch up and propel along in mourn- aa ee bees echoes, like the wail of a broken eart. 5 Joaquin Muriete lies flat upon the ground, as bereft of consciousness as the gray mountain crags that loomed around him. His horse gives a whinny, and like a faithful dog, approaches his master. He smeiis the body over— even seizes the leather: waist-belt by his teeth, and raises Joaquin Se Ae ten the ground. wy But as the limp body sags back a wonderful un- derstanding seems to possess the noble animal, for with a louder whinny he leaps the gate and dashes ae more-newly finished part of the road, until, al last, he brings up at a point where scores of mask- ‘ ed men are digging on the mountain-side. : ‘ ‘Hello! Joaquin’s horse by all the miracles!” exclaimed one stalwart, smooth-faced fellow, paus- ing in his work, asthe animal approached with a whinny and rubbed his nose upon his shoulder, after which he trotted beck in the direction whence he had come. ‘ What ails the beast?” * Somethin’s up—gone wrong!” spoke another, “Tfl's you, Lieutenant Phil, ’'d go see what it’s about, That beast o’ Joaquin’s ar’ a Varned animal, an’ ye ken bet he wouldn't play sech a part ef some- thin’ warn’t out o’ kilter, you hear me! “True encugh, Aber,’’ was the reply. “I thinkTll ‘run down to the gate, and see if _everything’s right there. It's getting on toward night; half a dozen of you may follow me on foot.” And. calling the white, the lieutenant vaulted into the saddle, and dashed down the road. In the meantime another horseman from the op- ing from his saddle on arriving in front of Joaquin’ cottage approached the body of the fallen chiet, " posite direction came up the new highway, and Jeap-

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He was none other than the young baronet, Sir Tom Somerset! : After leaving the cabin of the Hermit of the Cas- cade Gulch he had re-entered the mountains, and, though he had found the horse, he became puzzled, * and finally quite lost. Chancing into Blind Canyon he had stumbled into the newly-made toll road curv- ing around the mountain. *This takes me in a westward direction, and may eventually fetch me nearer to the valley of the Her- mit,’” he had said, after which he proceeded to fol- low the road, which resulted in his pease berore Joaquin’s cottage, and finding the young chief lying senseless before his own door. “Hello! I wonder what ails this poor fellow?” the baronet muttered. ‘SI see no signs of his having been foully dealt with. Here is water handy; I'll see if I cannot resurrect him from this stupor. Ha! was the woman I met with down the road anything to him?’ Raising the body in his arms, the baronet dragged it within the shanty, the first room of which was neatly but rudely furnished. Here he laid him upon acouch of skins, and seizing a basin, proceeded to host some water that trickled down across the road, Returnin “Y-es!” Joaquin mused, passing his hand over his forehead. ‘I remember now—I fainted. I than'c ou, Mr, Somerset, for manifesting so much interest in my behalf. But stop! Before you go, let ms ask you a question. Which direction did you come from?” “From the east, sir.” ‘Hal I thought so, Did you—did you see any- thing of a woman going eastward along this trail?” “T did, sir. She was alone, and carried a bundle of clothing. I made an attempt to ask her concern- ing my shortest. route to Cascade Valley, when she “uttered a wild a oa and sped on as if all the evil Spirits were after her!” ; “* You speak of the Cascade Valley,” Joaquin, Jr., said, as he opi moodily up and down the floor, _“ What would you have there?” ‘Nothing more than a few days of rest, I assure you,” Sir Tom replied, feeling a trifle nervous in _ spite of himself, for there was that in the demeanor _ and flashing eye of the chief that would impress one “not too favorably of the calmness of his heart. ‘I chanced down there earlier to-day, and engaged ac- - @ommodations for a short stay. I am tow endeav- oring to find how I can easiest get my horse and myself back into the vale.” ‘or some time Muriete did not speak. but paced to and fro with a keen glance anon at Sir Tom, who was awaiting che issue, At. last, however, he walked to a desk in one corner of the room, soon to return with a small golden stiletto lying in the palm of his hand. It was @ mere toy, such as might be attached as the “ charm ” to a watch-chain, but Joaquin gazed at it sternly. “Take this,” he said, handing it to Sir Tom. ‘Take it, and never be without it. Nicht and day have it fastened in plain sight. Now go! No, stop! I will first tell you my name. Tt is Joaquin Muriete. Jr. Perhaps you may hear the name again. And “mind you, offer no harm to that little fairy of Cas- cade Gulch, if you would dive. Go 20w! Mount Idyl, the Girl Miner. oe your horse and pass on up the road. If you are stopped, show the stiletto, and demand to be shown — the easiest way into the Cascade Gulch!” Sir Tom bowed respectfully, and stepping from the shanty left the gate behind him, on the back of his trained horse. From the doorway Joaquin watched him until he was out of sight; then stood gazing off among the rue ee mountains, where the night was gathering ekly. “Oh! thou God!” he murmured, ‘I am all alone —deserted by my wife—separated from my Child!” CHAPTER IV. CASCADE CITY LOOKING PROMISING. Str Tom Somerser galloped away up the new mountain road, his mind busied with the mystery concerning matters at the cottage. ‘Joaquin!’ be muttered. “I have heard that name mentivned in connection with the gold fever in California. This Joaquin and that cannot be the same—probably are father and ‘son, as the present one is a young man of nearly my own age. Ha! here comes a horseman, and he is masked, at that!’’ It was the man whom we have previously men- tioned as Lieutenant Phil. He was mounted upon Joaquin’s white horse, and bound toward the toll- ° gate. But he drew rein in the middle of the road as Sir Tom came up, and in one hand he held a pistol © ready for use, ‘* Halt!” he commanded. u without paying toll. As I am actin a toll-road, I'll be lenient, and ¢ ““You can go no further agent for Muri- ‘ge you only a Sir Tom laughed. “TI guess you are playing with the wrong trigger,” he said, drawing the golden stiletto. ‘‘ Joaquin him- cee ee me that this would pass me over the road” “Ha! the signal-sign. Very well, sir: since you possess that, you are at liberty to pass on. But tell me first, what has epReued at the gate?” ‘You, perhaps, can best learn that,’ Sir Tom re- plied. “I found your chief lying in front of the shanty, but succeeded in fetching him back to con- sciousness. I left him at the shanty.” With a bow the lieutenant put spurs to his horse, and"dashed on toward the toll-gate, while Sir Tom continued upon his journey. He had no difficulty in passing the men who were working upon the road, after he exhibited the sti- letto; and one of them pointed out the easiest way of descendins into the valley beyond. So by the time it was fully dark he rode up in front odors Hermit’s cabin, and dismounted with a sigh of relief. 3 The evening was warm, and the old man sat in his. arm-chair under the weeping-willow, smoking away at his pipe. 5 “So you have arrived, eh?” he said, raising him- self upon his crutches and hobbling forward. *' Take the bridle from your horse, and turn him out to. graze, There’s supper for him in the valley, and supper for_you in the cabin.” ‘ Tom made haste to obey—and then followed the . Hermit into the main apartment of the cabin, which * answered equally the purpose of kitchen and parlor; he was, however, disappointed at beholding nothing bearing the least resemblance to a woman. Upon the table was a common tea-set. and a meal, consisting of bread, milk, butter and cold meat, with wild pear-sauce. It was common, but looked mighty tempting to Sir Tom. who had not tasted food since early morning, and very sparingly, then. “Be seated, and help yourself,” the Hermit said, pointing to the table. “It isn’t a repast fit for the Queen but we manage to subsist upon it. Weate — before you came.” Tt was upon Sir Tom’s tongue to ask where the other one of the “we” was, but he restrained his impatience, and finished his me #1. fterward they adjourned to the open air to.

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x ee The old man Da br bis chair, while Sir Tom seat- ed himself upon the doorstep. ops nee pe are to have a highwa; valley,’ he observed, carelessly. are already cognizant of the fact?” “Yes,” the Hermit replied, with a nod. “I am powerless to help it. My hermitage will soon bea matter of the past.’’ “The road will naturally bring in prospectors and meee, eae and will you not be in danger of being ro eee _* Robbed!” the old man echoed, with a start— “robbed! Of what?” ‘Of everything—of your hidden wealth—of your vlaims, yonder—ay! of that you prize most, your daughter, Miss Idy].”’ * But who would rob me, youngman? Who would molest a man who has no enemies?”’ 4 “Oh! there are hundreds—thousands who would do it, for the sake of gold, or to satisfy evil desires, You have been so long shut out from the world, that J fear you would harbor evil, un-uspectingly !’” “Ha! then you mean that your coming bodes me evil, sir?” Y a Be **No} on the contrary, my coming imsures you a true and lasting friendship. but I was referring to the class of adventurers who must soon come into this gulch. You will awake some morning to find &@ miniature city surrounding you, peopled by a heterogeneous swarm of bumanity, ou will be astonished Men, seemingly friends, will plot against you. This one will scheme for the mine—that one will cast an envious ere upon your child—another, still, will plot for the buried treasure for which you care mcst, perhaps, next to your daughter. And some time one of the enemies will strike your death- blow, and your child will be left alone in the world in the midst of evil men, defen’ eiess!” 2 “No, no!—not quite that!” Old Elk replied, with achuckle. ‘‘She is not defenseless who has a strong arm, adauntless courage, and a will to fight for her rights. And that same has my Idyl.”” ‘Which, if true, causes me to admire her already,” ee Pato muttered, under his breath. Aloud, he daid: “Perhaps you are right, sir, but a single woman against a trio or more of evil men has no adyan- tages, certainly.” A “Why do you say all these things to me?” the old man demanded, petulantly. ‘‘ They do not serveto increase my peace of mind.” : 5 * A fact which I well understand, sir. But I wish to arouse you to a true sense of danger, for I feel it in my bones that danger will come. You must be on your guard if you intend to remain here.” “And you tell me this without a selfish object be- hind it all?” f “I tell you it with no object in view, except to keep danger away from a helpless3man and a weak woman!” Sir Tom replied. “Then, you are as noble as_you seem to be!” the other replied, “and I thank God that he has sent you asa triend and counselor.”’ / | At this dst beni a peal of merry, girlish laughter pot. through the “T presume you rung out just behind Sir Tom, causing him to invol- untarily leap to his feet with a start, “Hal hal ! A weak woman! Hatha! ha! Did you hear him, papa?” j And the next moment a trim, girlish figure step- ped out of the cabin, half-convulsed with oe - ter, which, evidently, was not affected; but which brought unconscious blushes to Sir Tom Somerset's cheeks, “Did you hear him, poppy?” cried the sprite, pecin. ‘He called me a weak woman! Ha! ha! 8, And a fair, roguish face, and a pair of sparkling brown eyes were turned full upon the baronet, who was ganiag at her in surprised admiration, The Hermit had not underestimated the attrac- tions of his child, She was seventeen years of age, Idyl, the Girl Miner. smoke, for Sir Tom carried a stock of choice cigars. | or thereabouts, with a well-rounded, willowy ae perfected in each graceful contour, as was reveale: by a neat-fitting, semi-feminine hunting costume of pliable deerskin; a bust, and a pair of shoulders and arms thac would have been a sealers pride to - model after; a pure white neck and bosom just a ar revealed by,an open collar, which was spotless and pretty. A Froud little head, with a prone of wavy hair flowing back upon the shoulders, and a face that was pretty and fascinating inevery lineament. The eyes, too, were such as could express in one moment the roguish merriment of a happy nature—in the next could flash with scorn an with anger and resolute will. In addition to the deerskin costume, there were dainty boots upon the shapely feet, and a slouch het set jauntily back from the fair, open forehead. No weapons wore this gazelle of the wilderness, to outward view—unless, as Sir Tom inwardly conclud- ed, they were her mischievous eyes, After the last words uttered by the Hermit’s daugh- ter, there was an awkward pause of a moment; but the old man at last came to the rescue. “Sir Tom,” he said, “this is my child—my Tayi ldy], Sir Thomas Somerset, of Derbyshire, England.’ f Sir Tom, with all his grand London life and social training, made a graceful acknowledgment, it was not more gracefully done by him than by the Hermit’s daughter. In an instant she had thrown off her girlish mask, and no society belle ever made a finer bow. - “Tam happy to welcome you to our wilderness home, sir,” she said, frankly extending her hand, “Tam sure papa and I ought to be proud of bein. honored by jour coming—we have visitors so sel- dom, you know.” j “Tt would need scarcely human presence to make me enjoy the wild spot you bave chosen for a home, Miss Abbey; yet the wild, romantic beauty. together with the presence of your father and your charmi self, combine to offer for my visit all the Had west could desire. And now, let me apologize for my un- complimentary refereuce to you as a weak woman, Is it not enough for me to say that I have changed my mind entirely?” ‘Quite enough, sir. Ithank you for the unneeded compliment. Now, you will excuse me, I hope, for the duties of a housekeeper demand my attention.”’ Sir Tom bowed respectfully, and his eyes followed her until she was inside the cabin, flitting busily about her duties. Then he turned to the Hermit. “Well?” the old man Lr nterroRe ren as he took an extra long puff at the cigar Sir Tom had previously given him. ; “She is a beauty, indeed,” was all the baronet said on that subject, for he seemed desirous of changing the channel of their conversation. They sat under the willow, and talked on various topics until the moon showed her face over the mountain range with a brilliant flood of yellow or light. “Then the Hermit directed Sir Tom which room to occupy and hobbled away into the cabin, with the announcement that it was his bedtime. Sir Tom. however, did not creep between the sheets until just before day-dawn, when the moon- light had gone. m He sat in the Hermit’s arm-chair and gazed off down the valley, while he smoked and cogitated over the events which had occurred since his dis- gti of the valley. He held three faces before his mind’s eye, and. with a singular sensation which he could not account for, studied them, They were the faces of Joaquin Muriete, the old Hermit, and Idyl—the Hermit’s daughter. We pass over a month before we look down ugain upon Cascade City. as the Hermit had, from the first, named the spot he had selected for his home, contempt, or fire

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10 A), remeremmmene We remember Sir Tom Somerset's prediction; we look with the expectation of seeing changes, and we are not disappointed. The old Hermit’s cabin stands in under theshadow of the great cascade the same as before, surrounded by its garden and beds of flowers; and, on warm days, the old man still sits in his arm-chair beneath the giant willow, as of yore. The rushing stream darts through its channel with aroar only second to that of a cascade, and there are no changes—no inventions yet to turn it from -its course, ! On the shores, however, there are changes, within a month, A quarter of a mile from the hermitage there are shanties and cabins scattered on the shore of the stream, and here and there the gulch valley, to the _ number of a couple of score, ‘Men are seen, too, digging about, here and there; horses are grazing further on down the valley; a general appearance of new settlement is seen about, To the east, a stage-road winds down into the val- ley from far up among the rocky crags. A month has passed with these changes, Sir Tom Somerset still lingers at the Hermitage, which, we may add, has been enlarged to the dimen- . sions of a frontier hotel, with a bar, and boarding and sleeping accommodations attached. A queer, Beeen gouged little old lad eadwood, had come over from wood, and induced the ermit into the venture; had enlarged the place at her own ex-. ense, and in consequence, was doing a thriving usiness. But, the old Hermit shook his head, as, with Sir Tom, he sat in under the willow one evening. “T don’t like the change a bit!” he said. ‘The old quiet of the place is gone, and disorder reigns. Why, would you believe it, Sir Tom? Icould not sleep last night, for the carousal in the bar-room, which lasted till near daydawn,” “The same with me!" the young baronet replied. “You made a wrong move, when you let that wo- man build on against you.” “Yes! yes! I see it, now. Experience is a good eye-opener, Sir Tom. I thought to relieve Idyl, my child, of the indoor work, so that she could be as free as the eagle. Well! well! I suppose we shall have to put up with it. The thing won’t last long, if they do not get gold, which they are not likely to. Do they show any disposition to crowd over onto } (dyl's claims?” ‘So far, no. One can’t tell what they may do, though they appear like peaceable fellows. I guess they are a little more encouraged, so far, to-day. Several of them have struck a sand streak, with go) en grain to it.” ‘“Humph!. It’s about time for another moon-tide. ae Idyl washed out all the paying, in her claim?” “T hardly know, Mr. Abbey. You have probably noticed that your daughter has given me the cold shoulder of iate, and therefore, I am in the dark concerning her.” “Eh?” the old man grunted, leaning forward, and peering into the baronet’s face—“ given ye the cold shoulder, hasshe? Well! well! What have you been doing, Sir Tom?” “Alas! you’ve propounded a poser, now! I’m in total ignorance as to the origin or cause of Miss Ab- bey's coolness toward me}”’ ‘Where is the child now?” “That I am unable to tell you, unless she is in the bar-room. Of late she goes there at the close of ee day's labor, and has her ,old weighed, I be- eve. The old man arose and hobbleé@ into his portion of the cabin. A door had been cut through the wall, and communicated with the bar-room of Mrs Matic: _ vis’s establishment, Into the bar-room the Hermit made his way upon his crutches, ‘ ae . There were several of the mineys clustered at the Idyl, the Girl Miner. bar, who had come to the valley, and they regarded him with curious glances. Paying little attention to those at the bar, the old man approached where Idyl was standing at the weighing counter, watching the clerk, a Mr. Sam’l mr wie as he weighed out the dust and grains of gold, Idyl looked up with a start, to behold her father, and he noticed then what had escaped his notice heretofore. The roses had gone out of her cheeks wonderfully, in the last few days, when before she had been so bright and blooming. There wasa restless, wearied light in her eyes, too, which had not been there be- fore. “Tdyll” the old man said, touching her on the shoulder, ‘‘when you have done here, come into our part of the cabin, I want to speak with you.” She nodded, without si ing, and the old man hobbled back into the old cabin, which was reserved. as,his own. After Sam Skinner had finished weigh: ing her gold, Idy] rejoined her parent, who was sit- ting out under the wilow tree, in his great arm. chair, “Well, poppy, what is it?” she asked, evidently tyne. to restore a lost girlish enthusiasm to he, speech. ‘What do you want of me?” “Sit down and I willtell you. Now, why is it that por are so cold in your demeanor toward our guest, ir Somerset? Tom is a good boy, and I supposed you_were petting along finely together, until—” ‘*He told you to the contrary!” Idyl finished, scornfully. ‘I am sure Mr. Somerset is very kina to enlist your sympathy in his case, _ Tell him I ad- mire his pluck!” She would have turned away, but at this moment the Hermit called her back, “ Idyl! Idyl! child, stop! You must tell me what has caused your coldness toward SirTom., Heis a noble fellow—is rich and inherits proud blood. I had hopes for you in that direction, my pet.” ““Then I must banish them for you, father. Be- tween me and Sir Tom Somerset, there is notning— never will be. If I were inclined to marry any one, there are scores 1 would choos» from before him !”” See turned and went around the cabin toward the Saloon. The stage was just coming in, laden inside and out with passengers, both male and female. is Be it said, to her credit, the green-goggled propri- etress of the only “ranch” in Cascade Gulch was a shrewd woman: and when a few of her dollars caused a ore Sort of the ‘red-hot times” at Cascade City to be published in a Deadwood paper, naturally there was a stampede at once for the new strike, and the population was largely increased at every in-coming stage, and Mrs. Matrevis pa & rich harvest from her bar, and her lunch-counter. CHAPTER V. THE SPORT'S DEBUT—A STRANGE DUEL, Tue stage drew up before the portals of Mrs. Ma- trevis’s establishment and began to discharge its freight of humanity, which consisted of all classes and types, such as yet is found in any mining strike. Idyl stood at one corner of the cabin, watching the busy throng which unloaded, with a curious gaze. It all seemed very strange to her, after Laving been reared in the solitudes as a hermit’s daughter, She could not remember of having ever seen so many men at one time in herlife as were disembark- ing from the four-team stage, driven by sturdy Jake Johnson, whom the Abbeys knew, as he had often Ls in the valleys hunting ere he had taken to the stage. ; ““A big heap on ’em. Miss Idyl”’ the brawny son of Wisconsin said, touching his hat respectfully. as he approached where Idyl was standing, ‘‘ Nevyer heerd thet ar’ stage grunt so as she did under thet cargo. Whoop’em up, Eliza! but thar ar’ a heap o’ eccentric cusses among ’em, miss, an’ ef ye don’tsee .

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Idyl, the Girl Miner, rs Bigh times heer at ther Cascade my name ain’t Jake Johnson—you bet on that!” ae do you mean, Jake, by high times?’ Idyl asked, “How do I mean, leetle gal? Waal, now, I don’i mind tellin’ you thet an artist in grave-digging, wouldn’t do so bad ter set up a coffin an’ toomb- stun factory eround hayr, bein’s my stage ter-night hes fetched in about as tough a crew as evyer sot fut in thur diggin’s. Thar’s Cross-eyed Mike, frum Deadwood, ter start wi’. After him tbar’s ther gallus coon they call Rosebud Rob, ther dare-devil al Baltimore Bess, an’ a couple as calls ‘emselves rofessor Bomberscoot, an’ Mrs. General George Washington Bounce. Durn my buttons ef thet lat- ter critter hesn’t made luy ter every consarned pil- grim aboard ther stage, durin’ ther trip. A reg’lar old husband hunter ar’ thet woman, you bet!” And happy Jake went whistling away, while Idyl, out of curiosity, stepped into the bar-room, to see what was going on. | She often be as in, since the coming of stran- gers to the guich; and on several occasions, her quick hand had dashed arvay a pistol] or knife. that had been poised by some angry miner to take a com- rade’s life. And, those who knew her had got to calling her the Angel of the Gulch. The bar-room was now full, to overflowing, with humanity, but she managed to gain a position near the protective hand of genial Sam Skinner, where she could watch those around her. After a long ride, the majority of the ‘‘ new citi- zens” repaired to the bar, where they proceeded to wash down the dust of the journey. “Among others who came under Idyl’s gaze, was a well-formed, exquisitely-dressed dandyish indi- vidual, whom everybody called Rosebud Reb. His was the appearance and genuine make-up of asport. His garments were elegant, both in quality and fit. The patent-leathers upon bis feet, the flash- ing diamond upon his shirt-front, together with the white slouch hat upon his head, and numerous other ‘appointments, including the cable-chain of gold, : which was strung sevgral times across his vest-front, all added to his appearance as that of one of those individuals occasionally encountered in the mines, and dubbed by the miners as ‘‘ sports.” The handsome, mustached face of the Sport, with its self-reliant expression, in whose hidden meaning were courage and resolution, and the keen dark eyes, with their magnetic influence, all attracted the attention of Idyl, from the instant she had caught sight of him, Her thoughts were upon him, as was her gaze, when there came a loud, bawling shout through the bar-room, and a brawny giant of a fellow pushed his ~ wa. roughly through the crowd toward where the girl miner was standing. * Hooray!’’ he bellowed, at the top of his brazen lungs, with a broad oath, ‘who sez Cascade City hain‘t got purty weemin? Whar’s that same galoot as durst say thet thar ain’t aA angels hyar in thes hemisfeer? I’m Cross-eyed Mike Gasket, pil- grims, ef ye wanter know who I be; I’m ther man who keeps tally o’ his conquests o’ death and luv wi’ a conductor’s bell-puncb, an’ when I roar ev’ry galoot’s a-tremblin’. Jest a bit ago, sum one whis- pees thet thar warn’t nary a purty female bird in her diggin’s. Hooray! whar’s ther man now? Jest fvast yer eyes on thet leetle baby yonder, my royal Bengal tigers. Jest score et down, how sweet she aire, will ye?” i And the giant bully stood glaring at Idyl, with a wolfish, greedy gleam in his eyes, that sent a thrill of terror through her frame, and caused her to tremble violently. * All I hev ter do,” continued the bully, “‘ar’ ter kiss a woman. an’ she ar’ henceforth a worshiper 0’ my beauty ferever, you bet! An’ ef ye don’t b’lieve Ae Jest watch me fetch that leetle heifer yonder to e, Fre il A cheer went up from the giant’s backers, as with a hitch at his breeches, he spat on his hands, and advanced a step toward Idyl, Butit was only a step! : “Stop!” she cried, suddenly leveling a pistol at his heart; ‘‘ stop, you big wretch! One step more, and, as God is my udge, you ‘shall have the whole contents of my revolver!’ ' “Stop, you cross-eyed son of a buzzard!” cried a second minging voice, and Rosebud Rob _ pushed through the ¢fowd and stood by Idyl’s side, his arms folded across his chest, but a handsome revolver nevertheless, clutched in eitherhand. “If you want “ a anybody, come and chaw a piece out of my p!” a hooray! them’s m a third voice, and the well-known face and fi Baltimore Bess was ranked on the defensive, sentiments, too,” cried re of *Come along, ye ihe kangaroo ef ye’r’ anxious ter — test our metal! Thar nevyer war a single knave as ked beat a full hand Jike ours.” : “*Oh, ho! thet’s yer game, eh?” the giant growled, seeing several of the miners step over. ‘* Waal, - we'll see about thet. I ain’t fer fightin’ a hull regi- ment,’ but ef-any o’ ye valiant pilgrims want ter step out an’ measure length wi’me fer cash, why thar’s uo flunk in me, you bet!” ’ “Do you mean that forme?” the Sport demanded, ee ning the rosebud more securely in his button- ole. “Perzactly fer ye,” the giant replied, with a leer. “No more fun would I luy than ter scrunch ye all up inter hash an’ toll my bell-punch over yer funeral remains.” “Then if you'll step outside, I allow-that I am most happy to accommodate you,” Rosebud Rob said, coolly. ‘**Don't!—oh, don’t fight! please” Idyl cried, in sudden alarm, tugging at the Sport’s arm. “Don’t fight that great monster. He will kill you. Oh! © how can I forgive myself for getting you into this trouble?” } = “Trouble, lady? Why, you are not in the least to blame—and as for the trouble, "tis fun instead of trouble, I assure you. I havehad my eye on this tough for some time. He is gnilty of many crimes, — and the sooner he cease to exist as a rufflan, the better for the safety of the people!” ;oe He then turned to Cross-eyed Mike. “Tam ready, you big booby. I guess it is light enough outside for our purpose. Get your rifle, and ri oe ou, directly!” “Hold up yer horses!’ the giant roared. ‘TI hain’t a-goin’ ter grip no shutin’-iron, nor nuthin’ like et, Itell ye. ‘Ther rib-ticklin’ carver is my holt ef yo please!” ets “Very well!” Rosebud Rob replied, calmly. ‘T am equally handy with it. But, as you have chosen — the weapons, where it was my place, permit me to — say which way the fighting shall be done?” ‘Yas, go ahead,” Gasket replied, with a brutal chuckle. “I don’t keer w’ich way, so long’s I git one pee at ye. Thet will settle ther debate, an’ ri 7 ing my bell-punch o’ death fer ther sixticth time ‘ The punch in question was a nickel-plated affair, ~ with two thumb-springs, each of which when press- ed rung a bell within, and registered one upon a dial. It was similar to those used upon many of the street-car lines in our large cities, and was worn by the ruffian, strung across his breast, making a pecu- liar ornament. $ : Every time he took a human life, as he hed in — seores of instances, the ruffian was credited with — ringing the bell. Upon the outside was the inscrip- tion—“ Death.” \ : Nearly every one shuddered when he announced his desire to complete his third score of deadly con- quests. ho a Rosebud Rob did not shudder, but a feeling of ut-— ter loathing and hatred for the human brute enters — ed his heart, to be succeeded by a fixed resolve, |

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12 ‘* Aq we are to use knives for this contest, we will rer in in this room, gentlemen,” he said, coolly. ** Pl -ase pass to one side of the room, so that none of you may get hurt. Sir Tough, you will place your back against one end of the room, with me on the opposite end. The distance hetween us is about twelve yards, Ishould say. You are to be provided with five knives, and I with an equal number. At a _iven signal by the bartender, who is a disinterested arty, we will hurl the knives at each other, with the tent, of course, to kill. I trust the spectators will see that there is fair play. Both men muststand up to the work, or be held up, until the best man has hurled his last weapon.” deathlike: silence reigned in the bar-room, at the conclusion of the Sport’s words. Every man stood leaning forward, with expecta- tion written upon his face, and bated breath, await- ing the issue. ss-eyed Mike glared at the Sport a moment, half-admiringly; then turned with a fierce, ugly laugh, and threw off his jacket. “I'm ther huckleberry fer thet kind o’ bizness!” he said, grimly. ‘“‘Ef ye wavter see sum high old fun, feller-cityzens, ye want ter watch me split open ther skull o’ thet scrumptious galloot wi’ ther rose- bud fastened inter his*buttonhole. I kin do et, as I kin chaw ven’son, w’ich ye know I ken do thet same.” ane space. was cleared, as directed by Rosebud Knives, to the number of five to each, were pro- cured from the spectators. Bofore tak Dg is position, Rosebud Rob glanced keenly about him—the longest, perhaps, into the pretty, scared face of Idyl wth The girl-miner stood one side, with very little "sais her cheeks, and a tremor agitating every muscle. ‘ She drooped her gaze beneath the strange, inquir- ing one of the Sport. When she glanced up again he had turned and placed his back against the east- ern wall of the bar-room. Cross-eyed. Mike had done the same, and stood with a knife in either hand, while three others were _ stuck in his belt, The bartender had mounted the bar; every man nearly in the room had drawn a weapon, to enforce pee timore Bess stood near to Idyl, and as.she saw the white face hastened to give assurance. “Don’t git skeered, little gal, for thar ain’t no ~ harm goin’ ter cum ter thet Sport, an’ don’t ye fergit it. . A tough customer in battle, ar’ thet same Rose- . bud, an’ [ll bet high he sp’iles the beauty o’ thet brute, kerslap.”’ v “ Gents!” cried the barkeeper, standing to his full _ hight, with Sg of Jarge-caliber revolvers in hand, “aire ye ready fer ther sermon ter begin?” .-* All ready heer!"’the giant announced, with a hoarse chuckle. _ ‘*Ditto here,” Rosebud Rob assented, coolly. . “Karect! Step one pace forward, so as yer arms kin hev full play.” __ The order was obeyed. pe: Pass Pileeuad hands raised, ready to hurl a knife apiece!’ The right hands were raised, and the heavy hunt- ing-knives poised for the hurling, according to each - man’s notion, Then there was a breathless pause, _ of several minutes’ duration. Simmonds, the barkeeper, gazed over the crowd of expectant faces below—saw that every man had drawn a weapon to insure fair play. One!” he cried, suddenly and igen moe 3 ’em - drive when I say three, gents. Zwo/ Take keer— _ THREE!” The words were barely formed in sound, when E there was a sudden move of two right arms and the - weapons of the contestants went hurtling through _ the air with an ominous whiz. _ Ga! a frightful howl of pain conies from the crogs- Idyl, the Girl Mine r. eyed giant, and he leaps about like an infuriated wild beast. The keen-bladed knife of the Sport has neatly shaved off the right ear of his opponent, close to the skull, and then buried itself in the log of the wall. While a shout goes up from the spectators, as Rose- bud Rob is seen standing erect, unhurt, and as cool as an iceberg, to all appearances. Gasket’s knife had gone wide of its mark. “Order!” roared Simmonds, from on top of the bar, ‘Git back ter yer place, Cross-eye, or yous raf ee ade Some one stanch the fiow o’ blood, please Ready hands bandaged up the giant’s wound, and beneath the gaze of a dozen or more revolver muz- zles, he-cowered back to his end of the room, and drew a second knife, with a string of curses. “Get ready!” cried Simmonds. “Each man has an equal show, an’ I’m goin’ ter see the contract kerried out ter ther letter, ef ther old constitoochin’ knows herself, Don’t ye second ther motion, feller- citizens?” A shout of approval went up from the crowd. Baltimore Bess was in ecstasies, while Idyl stood with a pale face, and dilated eyes. She had never witnessed such a terrible battle; she could not speak; when she would have left the room, her limbs refuse: to move. ‘Hurray! warn’t thet did skientific, now?” Bess cried, excitedly. ‘‘I tell ye w’at, thar’s nothin’ like bein’a man. I wouldn’t be a woman no quicker’n Td chaw my own head off, you bet. Just watch thet Sport, now. He's gittin’ ready fer ernviaor fling. Ten ter one he cuts thet tough’s head ciean squar’ off.” - he words startled Idyl back into herself once more; her limbs no longer refused to m-ve, She glided to the side of the Sport, and Jaid on .1and up- on his arm, appealingly. “Don’t!” she said, in a low, tremulous voice— ‘don’t kill the man—for my sake!” “For your sake?’ Rosebud Rob said, gazing down into the pretty face, with sudden admiration in his eyes. “For your sake, miss? You must have some purtickler passion, then, fer sech cowards as thet cuss, yonder.”’ 3 “No! no! I despise him, even more than you do. ae I don’t want murder done here, in Cascade iby. eed it wouldn’t be murder, I reckon, to drop thet galoot!” ig it would. Promise me not to kill him, to- night.” “[ promise!’’ the ayoee said, watching the girl, as she hurried back to the side of Baltimore Bess. “Cum. young feller wi’ ther rogebud—afe ye ready?” Simmonds cried. ; “ Quite ready!” the Sport replied, “ An’ ye, Cross-eyes?”’ : “Give’s the word!’ the giant said, with a voice like a bull’s roar. f He had poised his knife, and was evidently count- ing upon a sure stroke for victory. “Ready, gents!” cried Simmonds, briskly. ‘‘ One, = passed his lips ere the two, three!” The word had scarcely knives left. the hands of the duelists, and went whiz- zing ominously through the air, : Every one, perhaps, except the contestants, shud- dered as the missiles of death shot forward. A wild, awful yell came from the giant, while the ae broke into a simultaneous shout of astonish- ment. What did it mean? Was the cool Sport, who stood unhurt at his end of the room—was he possessed of the art of witchcraft? It would seem so. None such knife-throwing had these denizens of the Black Hills ever witnessed before. For this last shot was no less than wonderful, The Sport, upoa hurling his weapon, had given it a send-off something after the manner in which the native of the South Sea Islands hurls his boomerang; Moe. ss . A,

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Idyl, the Girl Miner. {t had made a peculiar curve in its flight, and the “T remain because I want you,” he replied, in a sharp blade, in passing close to the giant’s face, had | low, passionate voice; *‘ because I am determined to completely clipped off the extreme end of his nose! CHAPTER VI. OLD FOES MEET—ROSEBUD ROB AGAIN. Yzs, it was even so! The man with the bell-punch was minus one ear and the end of his nose, of which he was ever proud, as he had got it colored as finely as ever the jolly | German colored his meerschaum. __ And with howls and oaths of despair and rage, the iant, blood-blinded, as it were, drew another knife rom his belt and poised it, waiting for the signal to hurl it at his cool and defiant young foe apposite. None fae er was similarly prepared, and at the word ey let fly. packs atl Mike's weapon just grazed the left shoulder of the Sport. x . The knife of Rosebud Rob went wide of its mark, and a murmur from the spectators was sufficieut guarantee that they did not believe the Sport kad made the miss without a purpose. ea Agaid the duelists took their stand. Again they hurled the knives, Gasket’s weapon carrying away a piece of the Sport’s coat-sleeve; while ‘he latter’s knife went quivering into the log wall, not an inch away from the one previously thrown. But one knife apiece now remained to be thrown, Cross-Eyed Mike grasped his, with a chuckle. “1m jest gittin’ my hand in!” be said, fiercely. “ll split the cuss’s skull open this time, an’ then gobble up thet bit o' feminine kaliker over yander, arfter I’ve tolled my bell punch!’ Pretty [dyl shrunk nearer to Baltimore Bess, es she heard the ruffian’s threat and caught his gloat- ing glance. “Don’t be skeered, leetle one!’ Bess whispered, reassuringly. ‘‘ Ten ter one Bobby puts in his work beauchiful this time. ‘T'wixt you an’ me, 1’ll ‘bet thar’s nary a pilgrim in these hyar mines as kin lay over thet same leetle Sport.” += The men took their relative positions; the word was given by Simmonds; the missiles flew through the air swiftly, . There was a groan and a heavy fall at the giant’s end. of the room. The butt of the knife-hilt had struck him endwise, between his organs of sight, and ended the duel, as had been the intention of the Sport. for he cast a contemptuous glance at the fallen bully, and turned away. : A shout of defeaning applause rent the air, and a crowd surrounded the Sport, with expressions of ad- miration and congratulation, Idyl now took the opportunity to slip from the room, and run around to her own part of the cabin, She found Sir Tom Somerset sitting in the door- way, but Old Elk. the Hermit, was nowhere in sight. “Where is papa?” she demanded, breathlessly. pausing in front of the young baronet, as he did no arise to let her pass. Fi “He retired some time ago, I believe. Miss Idyl,” was the reply. ‘“‘Isuppose you know it’s past his bedtime.” “No! what time is it? I was so—” .. “Eingrossed in a low saloon brawl, that you had forgotten yourself,” he finished, with biting sarcasm. “It is twelve o’clock, Miss Abbey—high time, I stould say, for you to be in bed !”” A flush of resentment went rioting over her pretty face, “Sir? You use strange words—and you a guest at that!” 3 “A paying one, however,” he returned, lightiy, “T am under no obligations to either you or Mr. Abbey, except for the first few days of my stay here.” “Why do you remain?” she demanded. suddenly, turning the full power of her eyes upon him. “ Wh do you remain here, where you cannot derive much | had money ved ae and that was an enjoyment?” 18 Tn win — yet, and carry you away when I go.” “Then let me dissipate any such a hope,” she re- plied, coldly. ** I can never be anything more to you than a friend. You had better know this now, than later. Go back to your English home, and forget that you ever met Idyl Abbey “ie * No! no! I cannot, Idyl—” “You must, say. Ycu are only making yourself miserable by remaining here. I will plainly and can- didly tell you, once and for all—I do not love you, and can never be your wife.” ; She pushed by him then and entered the cabin, leaving bebind her one of the most wretched beings in Cascade City, unless we were to make allowance for the Man-With-the-Bell-Punch, who had suffered Be ee his ear and nose-vip at the hands of Rose- ud Rob. But Sir Tom was not the one to be put cff lightly, He knew that there was worth to a woman like Tdy Abbey, and that the possession of her was, in ever sense of the word, worth working for. On the following morning, Idyl was up with the first streak of dawn in the east, and after a hasty breakfast, was out at her claims, working away in golden sands. The day was one of those mild Indian summer days, which serve to charm and Jull the senses, A misty haze hung above the gulch, through which the sun pénetrated mildly. ea : The valley was thronged, to-day, thronged with would-be miners and speculators, with rougbs and sha pers, whose business was doubtful. at the best, The girl-miner accomplished but little, in the way of washing out wealth, for she was repeatedly both- ered by Bioig oy inquirers, who were eager to pro- cure a slice out of the golden cake, - Generalexpressions of disappointment were heard on either hand. 3 ane gulch was no bonanza, after all the excite- ment, - ' Two men were talking the matter over, as they stood near where Idyl was working. “The girl here has got the best part, evidently,” said Lord Byron, Cavendish, watching her with a bold, insolent stare, which caused her to feel »neasy” —forshe knew that his eyes were turned upon her, even though she did not look au him. * Tie girl's — got the best claim, and consequently there is a poor show for the rest of thesfellows.” ‘Unless their digging results in a bigger dis- covery,” replied the second individual, a Mr, Charles Devere, of Custer City. “*T would give a good deal to posses this claim!” ~ Cavendish muttered, lowering his tone. “I could then get back some of the money I bave lost lately at the gaming-table. Is there no way we could de- throne this girl and get the claim in our possession? . A couple of clever villains like you and I cught to manage it all right.’ ; “Hardly,” Devere replied. “If the girl washere first and staked off her own, she can hold it, in spite’ of the—the devil!” with a sardonic laugh. as ‘““Have you learned her name yet?” Sey “J believe they call her Idyl.” : fe Idy | astrange name; likewise, a deuced pretty irl.” . ‘Yes. remarkably so.” zs * Could we not persuade her to sell out her clais- at a nominal figure, do you think?” , Devere shook his head. * She’s no fool, I'll guarantee,” he said, Lord Cavendish, however, had a conceited notion that American women were possessed of an intellect only a trifle above the beasts of the forest. He regarded them as beneath his serious notice, unless there was a bargain to be made. Of Idyl Abbey. however, he had a little more ele. — vated opmmion, She was unusually pretty poe ie tem 0: ded advantage Britisher's eyes. p “ai

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14 “Ahem! Is this claim for sale, young lady?” he ventured to ask finally, in his oiliest tones, " “Not for sale!” Idyl he briefly, for she liked not the appearance of the baronet or his companion, **T have answered this same question for a matter of ten or fifteen times to-day.” ; “Oh! well, you needn’t be so thdependent about it!” Cavendish said, insolently. ‘I’ve seen Indian squaws twice as polite as you.” “Sir!” and Idyl flushed hotly, ‘‘if you come here to annoy me, you are unwelcome. You will please oy Ase departure!” F j “Eh? Go at the order of a mere chit of a girl like ou?” his lordship exclaimed. ‘* Perhaps you do not now who I am, young woman?” “Well, now, then, who are you ?”” Idyl demanded, picking up her rifle and leaning upon it, while she ae the two men coolly “Go ahead and give us a full account of yourself.” Cavendish uttered a polite English oath, while De- @ vere simply whistled. It was a picture neither of them could help admir- ~ ing. Rah! ahem! my pert miss, my name is Caven- dish, at your service—Lord Byron Cavendish, of London,” ‘0 ae * Very well!” the Angel of the Gulch replied, cool- ly. ‘1 see nothing of special importance in tha/ fact. You’re no better than any one else!’ “You shall find out about that!” Cavendish raved, hig face growing florid with mortification. ‘ Come! let’s go back to the hotel, Devere Ive a thoughtin my mind concerning this girl, which T want to whis- per in your ear. Good-day, Miss Independence—au revoir |, a watched them walk away, her eyes dilating widely. ie They are © pair of villains,’ she mused, a feeling of uneasiness stealing over her. ‘Cavendish? ah! that was the name of Sir Tom Somerset’s fellow- tourist.” She went on with her work, but it was with a feeling of unrest. Lord Cavendish and the man, Devere, went back to the ‘‘howtel.” as Mrs, Matrevis’s establishment Bee ele upon a creaking sign up over the oor. “The girl’s a regular spitfire!’? the Britisher growled, in vexation, “She rather cooled yows off,’ Devere laughed. “Takes a woman to make a man feel that he isn’t o’ much account, anyhow.” * “Hang the women! I want that spot of land, and I'm going to have it by hook or by crook! Who is the girl’s father, and where does she live, I won- er?” “There's her father, now,’’ and fhe man from . Custer City pointed a short distance away. where Old Elk was sitting in his arm chair, beneath the willow, engaved in smoking hisgrimy pipe. ‘That's her father, an’ she lives wi’ him in the cabin, I reck- on,” / Cavendish gazed closely at the Hermit as he ap- -proached nearer, and finally he gave a violent start, ee an expression of incredulity came over his fea- tures, ‘ Jason Abbey! Can it be possivle?” he cried, jeaping forward with an oath. “Ay!” the old man cried, seizing one of his erutch- es, and raising it on the defensive; ‘‘ Jason Abbey! Keep back, Ronald Dorchester! keep back! or I will dash your brains ont, as old as Iam, and not half the man I was ten years ago!” i ’ Cavendish, ais Dorchester, laughed sneeringly. “Don’t fear, old fellow! I wouldn’t touch a hair of our head, were every haira golden chain. Devere, at see you later.” Devere bowed. He recognized a polite hint for him to be gone, and he accordingly strolled toward __ the cascade, to pass away the time. _. After he had gone, Lord Cavendish had broughe 2 Idyl, the Girl Miner, chair from inside the cabin and seated himself fn me ae tho Hermit, just out of reach of the oaken erutch, A wonderful change had come over the Hermit in the Jos: few minutes. He had straightened up from © his habitual bent position, with tense muscles and ~ clinched ands, His face, though shaded by a grayish pallor, was resolute in its ag ig and his eyes had a steely glitter that they had not possessed before, “ We'l?”? Cavendish said, with a complacent smirk, as bo stroked his luxurant side-whiskers, ‘ It seems that I ave found your hiding-place at last, when I was least thinking of you. Ha! ha! your surprise must have becn about equal to mine.” “On the contrary, I have been expecting this,’’ the Hermit replied, calmly—so calmly as to cause the visitor to glance of him the second time. ‘‘T had been looking for you during the past two years, knowing there was no gold excitement without its influx of blacklegs and unprincipled knaves.” “ Ha! bo! a goud way of brushing a fly off of my noso, isn’t it? ell, well, fire away, old man, I can stand any amount of verbal abuse. By the way, I seo you have grown old in tho last decade--older than I, sven, albeit our ages used to be the same.” “Yos, grown old,” was the slow reply; ‘but if, is better to bo nigh unto a glorious hereafter, than to havo one’s soul burdened with crime, Ronald Dor- chester!’ “Indeed! Is that so? But, my dear Abbey, re- frain from calling me Dorchester, My name, for the ast fevr years, has been Lord Byron Cavendish. ou see an old uncle Gied and bequeathed me his | wealth and title. Not but what Dorchester was ever an honorablo name; but, you see, if seems = little odd after all my lordly career.” The Hermit somehow managed to articulate a faint laugh of scorn at this juncture, ““T see you are the same conceited scoundrel of old!” he said. “But come! I do not care to pro- long this interview. State your business, and go!” “Tshall take my time to that,” the other an- nouncen, decidedly. “I propose to have a social chat with you.” 5 ‘* You have a social chat with me?” the Hermit eried, his voice rising with trembling anger; “ you, who stole away my bride from her first-born child? Iplaved my curses upon your heads then, as I do now. Because I won a woman for would have ruined, and made her my wife, Roland Dorchester, you vowed to wreak vengeance upon me and mine, ou have done so—what more do you want?” “T want a continuation of the same, unless we can come to a settlement!” the Englishman replied, with an affeeted yawn. ‘You do not ask about your wife, Jason, as I supposed you would?” . “Ask about her” the Hermit hissed, with an in- tense bitterness of tone—‘*she whom you enticed away from her husband and child, I have no wife, ou aceursed villain! 'The hour that Hellice Abbey eft my roof she ceased to be anything to me or the child she bore me.” “The girl down the gulch yonder is that child, T presume?” “The same.” “T should arene so. She seems to possess many of your wife’s traits of character. For in- stance, at her age in life. 1 see that she has got so far advanced vhat a couple of roughs were fighting over her in the bar-rvom last evening.” E ““A couple of roughs, sir?” exclaimed a cool, cyni- cal voice, and a trim, dandyish figure stepped around the corner of the cabin. ‘* Allow me to correct your mistake, and at the same time tender you an invita-, tion to meet me, at your earliest convenience. A ‘rough’ implies that which is of no credit to a thoroughbred gentleman, and I thought it might be- just as well to have a pistolic debate on the subject now, as at any later peridd.” Cavendish uttered an oath and leaped to his feet, Before him stood the sportive notoriety, Rosebud leis

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Idyl, the Girl Miner, om Rob, the same cool sharp, whose’ name was being handled in awe by the gossipy miners, wherever his advent had taken ne A flush of malicious anger dyed the florid counte- nance of the Englishman to amore apoplectic hue as he surveyed the Sport. “What do you mean, you accursed eavesdrop- per?” he growled, savagely. ners!”’ “My challenge just now would seem to imply that Twas willing to take a few lessons from you, my lord,’? Rosebud Rob replied, satirically. s “What! I fight fe ?” Cavendish gasped, as if seized with sudden horror at the thought ‘ Why, you insignificant puppy, Vd disdain to touch the point of a weapon with you—f would, ’ron my hon- or. You see, I never fight, except witha gentleman.” i Indeed? Then you are afraid to fight with me, eh?’ “ Certainly not.” “Then why don’t you accept the challenge, you cowardly sneak?” Cavendish trembled with suppressed rage. To be called a “cowardly sneak” was the hight of insult; yet he was aware that he must not fight with the cool Sport if he would preserve his ownlife. He had, witnessed the strange duel of last night, and he had no desire to measure skill with so wonderful a marks- man, “You shall be satisfled,”’ Cavendish gritted, ‘ but not now; another time will do just as well.” * Certainly,” the Sport replied, with a quiet smile. “Til give you time to square up your earthly sc- counts, and to determine which way you would pre- fer to be sent off. Until then Ibid you an affection- ate adieu.” And, with a mocking laugh, the dandy of the mines walked away, whistling a strain from La, Son- nambula in a peculiarly piercing tone. Cavendish watched him with a black frown ?or several minutes, then turned upon the Hermit, with a sareastic chuckle. « CHAPTER VU. : A HUSBAND-HUNTER—THE HUNSED BAROW.. “THart’s the individual who took the part of your daughter, friend Jason,” he said, resuming his seat. “No doubt you are deeply impressed with his flashy appearance and apparent bravado! * © At the very Jeast, he has evidently more manly principles than you!” the Hermit replied, bitterly. ‘Ronald Dorchester, tell me what you want—then go. Your presence is gall and wormwood to me,” “That is why I am delighted to stay with you,” the villain replied; ‘* but as I do not wish to be undu- ly hasty in worrying you out of the world, I'll state my business and go. We may as wellbe friends as enemies. I bear you no particular ill-will, and Iam sure vou could learn to have me as a son-in-law, in due time.” ; “ What?” the Hermit gasped. half starting from hisseat. ‘Are you mad, man?” i ‘Perfectly sane, I assure you. Your girl is a pee ae and would make me a good wife, no doubt.” ; “Stop! °Tis certainly madness to discuss such an idea, Ronald Dorchester. Before I’d see my Idyl wedded to a scoundrel like you. V’d cut her pure white throat with my own half-palsied hands!”’ ' “at hal bravely spoken. my dear Abbey; butin- dicative of a weak mind nevertheless. Were there an asylum for the demented within easy reach of this desolate spot, I should certainly see to your re- moval there at once. By-the-by, do not get excited . but consider matters from a rational standpoint, and when I return I shall expect to find you willing to comply with all of my requests!” eum “Wot Ronald Dorchest: r!"’ the Hermit hissed, as the baronet arose and walked away. “ You'll never convert me into a tool to serve your purposes. My experience with you has beer too bitter—too bitter for me not to be on my guard.” “Tl teach you man- 15 Cavendish, as we will continue to call him, walked around the cabin to the eastern side, where was the entrance to Mrs. Matrevis’s saloon. He was on the eye of entering, when a touch upon the arm caused him to wheel about, with a grunt of inquiry. But an expression of mingled curiosity and dis- gust came over his features when he saw who it was, It was the Scagminiaity. of whom Jake Johnson had spoken to Idyl—the husband-hunter, Mrs. George asbington Bounce, Of all females she was, perhaps, the most eccentric and Wes RS hagas eet of any in the mines, What little of her features were to be seen were sharp and angular, with a hooked nose, sharp, bead- like eyes, and a mouth of broad-gauge dimensions. In addition, her countenance was liberally washed with that article of the feminine toilet known as ** lily-white,” and the cheeks tinged with rouge. An olden-time ‘‘ sky-scraper”’ bonnet, surrounded her face and covered her head, elng pata orned with artificial roses and loud ribbons. In form she was long and lank, and her dress, of huge-figured calico, with something like two yards of train behind, and a scant red shawl over her shoulders, gave her a strange, grotesque appearance. And what such a creature could want with him was beyond Lord Cavendish’s powers of comprehension, to say the least. “Well, woman, what is it?” he growled, grufily. ‘‘ Shure an’ phat is it?’ the woman replied. ‘‘ Faix, an’ there’s nary a woman in the town better than mesilf, ef I do say it.” “Kang your nonsense. Tell me what you want, or go along with your accursed ba, “3 “A divil a bit o’ baggage hev It’s a poor lone widdy I am, shure, who be buffetin’ the say of age wid nary a hope for ther future except to find a foine gentleman to take the place lift vacant in me bladin’ heart by the dith o’ Mike Maloney. Och! wurra! a divil uv a foine husband e. ; Pat all, yer honor, was that same Michael, but now he’s a hod-carrier — up forninst the angels!” 3 “In the name of Heaven, woman\ how does this concern me? I never saw you before!” “Shure, but the same nade make no difference, at all. I’m a poor ee an’ ye be a bachelor, Tak6é me to your arms, along with all ther-luv ov the Maloneys, for centur’es to come.” “Nonsense! This woman is mad, Get away, you Trish vagrant!’’ and giving her a push. he mai to dive into the tavern, and escape to his room. While outside, Mrs. G. G. W. Bounce, glared around her for another victim, upon whom to pounce, Rosebud Rob was standing a short distance away, — conversing with Idyl. Seeing which Mrs. B, made for him unceremoniously. « ‘Aha! me darlint, it’s mesilf as hev found yez!"* she exclaimed, with a radiant grin, as she endeavor ed to throw herself into the Sport’s arms. ‘Shure, an’ it’s huntin’ I’ve been these menny days fer yez. _ Divil a bit will I give ye up now.” ‘ ‘*Confound it, what do you mean, you old lunatic? I’m no darlint o’ yours!”? Rosebud Rob replied, push- | ing Ba chat at arm’s length. ‘‘Who are you, anyhow?’ 4 T Och! divil a soul knows better than mesilf who T be. Mrs. Ginera] George Washington Soe fed sarvice, tho’ it’s formerly the wife.ay Mike Ma- oney that { was, Shure Mike he died from a-carry~ in’ the hod, he did, an’ thin comes along an Ameri- — can spalpeen, bad luck to him. an’ he fluthers one — eye at mesilf, an’ he sez, sez he, the omadhaun: ‘Cum wid me, Biddy, ye flower ay tha Emerald sod, to that land av the frae American, an’ be the wife av Gine:al George Washington; shure it’s a divil av a foine time we'll have, ontirely’! Poor de- luded fule that I was, I kim over the big puddle, an’ we landed at Castle Garden, one mornin’ in the month ay dugust. ** Sez the gineral to me. t “ Biddy, me treasure, jis hin: © t be afther loanin’ me the — 4 * im >

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five hundred that yez got from the sale av the wee cot on the ould sod, an’ w’ile I run forninst the bank, ye’ll be rollin’ away to me palace, on tha avenue, An’, shure, I smelt nothing at all, an’ he tuk the money, put me into a cab containin’ a man, wid brass buttons on his coat—his liveried servant I belave he called ‘im—an’ furst I know’d I was in a place tha called the Tombs—an’ they sed as how I was ’rested, bedad, for sth’alin’. An’ whin [told the spalpeens that I was Mrs. Gineral George eeean _ ton, tha mother av me counthry, they all laughed, an’ a big polaceman told me to ‘ bounce’. £ ‘ bounc- ed’! but everywhere 1 wint, an’ told ’em who I was, they’d simply say ‘bounce,’ an’ it’s mesilf as kim to tha final conclusion that ‘Bounce’ must be a parth o’ my name ontirely.’’ “fal hal this is rich!’ Rosebud Rob cried, ee ing heartily, as did Idyl, for in the relation of her narrative, the ‘‘widder” had adhered to the broad Irish twang, and had pitched her voice to a sharp, indignant key. vi od woman, what became of the ‘ general ”, and what brings you out here in the mines?” “Och! wurra! shure, an’ they told me tha same ‘gineral’ was a noted—corkleg, I think tha ealled it, an’ that he had swindled me out o’me money. Jest as iff didn’t know the same! But divil a bit keered . I. There was niver a Maloney, nor the son ov a ; Maloney: noor tha wife of a Maloney, as would ery forninst spilt milk; an’I set forth ins’archof anither husband ter take tha place av poor Mike Maloney, ‘that is deceased.” ‘And you have been unsuccessful, so far, I take _ it?” the Sport asked. ‘““Faix, an’ it’s mesilf that has, that same. Divil a mon hey I met wid a heart in him at all, or an eye for thrue beauty av tha desolate, soul-yearnin’ wid- dy ay George W. Bouncs.”’ “Well, well, this is really sinful, that no one can appreciate your manifold charms. Did you try the man you met at the saloon doora, bit ago?” _ “Shure, an’ there’s nary a mon in the camp I haven’t offered mysilf to. But, they all say ‘git eout,’ or, ‘bounce, ye Irish vagrant,’ an’ sure it’s a sick ould placa, ontirely.”’ _ “You must not be discouraged!” Rob assured, a - sparkle in his eye. ‘The man you met at the door is an English lord, and no doubt if you pe your case, you canmstrike a tender chord in his heart, and the ultimate result will bs, that you discard the American.name of Mrs. General George Washington Bounce, for the aristocratic English title of Lady Byron Cavendish!” _ wae an’ do yez raelly think that same, yer oner?” There can be no doubt of it, my dear woman. - Cavendish seems to have a passion for comely wo- ‘men, and your case bids fair to win, if you only hang to your work with the perseverancs of a bull-dog, Take my advice—don’'t give hima minute’s peace until he makes Rae his wife. Asanencouragement, if you succeed, I'll give you a hundred dollars out of ‘my own pocket!” ~ “Oer! now, but it’s foo'in’ wid me ye be, yer hon- er!” and Mrs, G. W. B’s face became gloriously il- luminated. - “Nota bit of it. You do your work, and I’llstand by my word, as sure’s my name is Rosebud Rob, ‘a man to suit all circumstance s,’” “Thin, by the hand of the Virgin Mary! it’s niver a day shall go by but I pop the momentious question | to tha loikes of his lordship!’ cried Mrs. Bounes, - decidedly, and the next minute she had wheeled about, and was pacing rapidly off toward the hotel. ~ . When she was out of hearing, Rosebad Rob burst Be ashout of laughter, which lasted for several nutes, , “You'll see fun hereafter,” he said atlast. ‘‘IfT _ do not mistake that woman’s metal, she'll make it red-hot for that British rascal.” : _ ‘Do you think this strange creature a woman, sir?” Idyl, the Girl Miner. . cM not a woman? Do you really believe it, miss?” “Tasked you if you thought her such, sir? I pass- ed no opinion,” “True, But—but hang it! she looks and acts like one, Idon’t believe but what she’s pure quill!” ‘Perhaps you are right. But you will have to ex- euse me now. I must go to work, or og Be will have been idly spent, for interruptions have been numerous to-day.” . “Ah! I will go, then. Pray excuse me for my thoughtless intrusion; it shall not be repeated.” “TI did not mean you, sir, particularly, Mr. Maple- ton. YouTregard as a friend, since you so bravely came to my rescue, and friends and strangers, you know, one cannot afford to sans equal pee es.” Rosebud Rob bowed, but excused himself and sauntered away, He saw that the girl miner sessed a maidenly modesty, and it was not for him to confuse it by intruding. After escaping the daughter of Hibernia, Lord Cavendish hastened to his room, which was directly over the saloon, and found Devere there, engaged in reading a yellow-covered novel. - «This man from Custer City was in no single partic- ular a great villain. His was an easy nature, and, in his bringing up. he had never been taught whaé it was to be scrupulous, Anything which offered him the easiest way to attain an easy Hvelihood was what he liked best, and he had come to Oascade City to “make a stake,’ without considering how it was to be done. He and Lord Cavendish had met on the ° way, and, for a stipulated sum, Devere had consent- ed to serve the Britisher. “Well, my lord, you evidently met an old ac- quaintance in the Hermit down there?” he said, look- ing up from ‘his book. “Yes; an old enemy,’’ the baronet replied. “TI should as soon have expected to find him here, as I would to find the deyil in a church-pulpit. But as it turns out, it may, bea lucky chance that caused me to stumble upon him.” “In respect to the girl?” “ Exactly. Sheis pretty, and would not grace a palace so badly, after all.’ “Especially when she has a princely fortune back of her beauty.” oP ‘** 4 fortune?” “Yes. Had you not heard the little story about the old Hermit’s bidden treasure? They say he’s been washing out gold in this valley for the past ten ors, and that he’s got it hidden away, by the bag- ul.” 3 “Ha! Thad not heard of this. Is there any truth in the report?”! ‘* As to that. 1am unable to say. Probably the re- ort would not have originated without some foun- ation.”” The Englishman knitted his brows together, dark- iy. “If this be true, Devere, you and I must have that treasure,” he said, in a low tone, : “We must first find ont where it is secreted, and then the old man must die a Soenitialy, natural death. Then, we ean take the girl and the gold, return to the old world, and live like nabobs. How like you the picture?” : “The picture is well enough, if executed right, But, there is the stick. It’s easy enough to talk, but not toact, Ihave just been reading of a notorious villain, at heart, who laid a plan to ruin a young man and zet possession of his fortune. He maneuvered like a good fellow, but finally was foiled, and brought to speedy justice, as villains usually are.” “Pooh! if you get your brain full of such non- sense, you may calculate to be defeated. I am no fool to imperil my neck, and consequently, we must _ work in extra cards, in the game. ere’s that rough customer they call Cross-Eyed Mil ample.” ike, for ex~ ¢

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17 Idyl, the Girl Miner. : ; ‘ \ “> X V5) / fi fg on if t, ‘Uy / 4%) padomhoy faye Hy 4 , AL may : Vly Ys ae hy 4h ~ VM Ay 4, 94, Tes aAl gab dMAL a PIN P22AN oe boty. j jee Py fH} SUDA 9’ y eH) Z Mme ee i ag vraytehs WAT ap a9 APANL ee “7 ctr eoiee Es i /

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18 Idyl, the Girl Miner. “Humph! I judge he is about done for, for the present, what with the loss of an ear and a nose.” ‘* Nevertheless, we could not get a better man to serve us—that is, if we can get him. He has the savage ferocity of a bulldog, and the memory of a tobacco-fed elephant.” ; “ But a bigger coward at heart never lived!” ‘How do you mean?” “JT mean what I said, He is a coward, especially heath he meets such men as that Sport, Rosebud od, ‘‘Qurse the Sport!” Cavendish growled, with a frown. “ He is an obstacle in my path—an obstacle which must be removed.” * You fear him, then?” “Ay! VllownthatI do. There is only one other living man whom I fear more.” “Who is that?” * His name is Joaquin Muriete.” “What! the toll-gate keeper on the new road?” “The same, I never go to bed at night but his re- vengeful face rises before my mind’s-eye like some evil phantom,” “What have you to fear from him, my lord?’ “Tt matters not now. Some other time I'll tell yu. And rising abruptly, the villain left the room. A week passed. « Matters at Cascade City had assumed a change of aspect, inasmuch as the population had increased to a couple of hundred souls. and every incoming stage added to this pumber. The commercially-inclined men had arrived among the rest, and several little stores and saloons had gone up, as well as numerous dwellings. Evidently Cascade City was to be a mining-town in earnest, for some paying spots of sand had been found down the valley, and all available territory had been leased off at high figures. But in the midst of the increasing tide of prosper- ity, when men could gambleif they could not mine themselves rich or poor in a single day—in the midst of all the bustle and excitement there was many a complaint raised, many a dark threat made, against one man, and that man Joaquin Muriete, Jr. Since the opening of the new road, and, by the way, the only direct route to the new strike, the travel over it had been considerable, owing to the \inflowing of the miners, fe No other route was there, without making a deteur of twenty or thirty miles, and this was not desirable. Yet, not a stage—not a person passed over the road, unless he paid toll at the little shanty on the dug-way. Five dollars apiece for each human pass ng by the gate, was charged, except in the case of »Jake Johnson, stage driver. Why he was left out, no one could rightly guess, On several occasions there had been resistance on the part of gangs of miners and roughs, against pay- ing such an enormous toll, but when dark-faced Joaquin’s whistle had called a score or more of brawny masked men to his backing, the toll was inevitablyforthcoming. Tf Joaquin Muriete had constructed the road, why had he not the right to charge each person toll that passed over it? This was the conzession of a few, but the general verdict of the Cascade-City-ites was that they were being robbed by the wepray: toll-gate-keeper. And it had been boldly announced that it would be worth the life of this man Joaquin, for him to set his foot within the precincts of that mining-town. Yet the chief was abroad at times when he was unexpected. Byron Cavendish was returning to his hotel, late one night, from a gambling den down the gulch when he heard a footstep in his rear, and turne _ just in time to catch a faint glimpse of a dark figure, which had been SSO. him. ' With a curse, he snatched a pistol from his belt, and fired; but his only answer was a mocking laugh, = While, the next minute, there was a whiz and a whir, and he uttered a piercing yell, as an arrow tore into the flesh of his right side. He heard another mocking laugh, and then a horse dashing rapidly through the valley, and he knew that his assailant was escaping. Not possessed of the courage to extract the wea- on, he staggered on to the bar-room of Mrs. Ma- ae establishment, where ready hands offered im aid. And, after the blood had been stanched, and the wound dressed, a piece of paper was discovered wrapped around the shaft of the arrow, and handed to the baronet. It contained a single line, written in a bold hand, and these were the words: : “ The i0th of Ovtoler. Beware!” CHAPTER VIII, ‘““A FRANTIC MOTHER KNOWS NO BARRIER BETWEEN HERSELF AND CHILD.” Tuer Sport, Rosebud Rob, independent of the ac- commodations offered by the boarding-house hig a ers of Cascade City, had reared him a shanty of h own, in the gulch, and kept bachelor’s hall. Since that afternoon when Idy! had spoken of be- ing disturbed in her labors, he had never visited her at her work. But this did not hinder their frequent meeting. The Sport was usually sitting in his door- way as she pared homeward at the completion of her day’s labors, and it was rarely that they did not have a short chat, “Miss Idyl?” How much do you really care for that _ “See here; ain’t you striking out a little too fast? Not being a minstrel end-man, I don’t propose to digest such conundrums as that.” ‘But you must tell me.” “Well, if I must, supposin’I were to say that I regard her as a very dear friend.” ‘No more?’ é “There you are er gee pushin’ beyond the bounds aries. J told you I regarded her as a very dear friend, If I war dealin’ in sentimentalism, an’ boasts ed o’ her bein’ very dear as a sweetheart, most probably I should hev sed it squar’ out.” “Very well. This girl loves you!” “Phew! What’s the matter with you? Are you a kind o’ match-maker—a matrimonial buckster fer ther girl, or what?” “The girl loves biota Sir Tom repeated, coolly. ““T know it, even though she never said so, to my knowledge. The girl loves you, and you don’t care a& snap of your pager for her, while Jdo. Now, I'll teh you what ['ll do. You step out of the ficld— Fa. Bei

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- Meany tae ah Ciel Wile: lear out of her sight for good and leave me to win und I'll make you a present of a thousand pounds!’ ‘What? You buy me off? Offer me a palt of money to. clear out, just so you can step win the girl?” e “Yes. I am confident she would turn to me if you were out of the way.” “Well! well! well! thisis about the most cheek; proposal I ever received!” Rosebud Rob exclaimed, with a laugh. . “ Nevertheless, you accept my offer, sir?” Somer- set said, eagerly. * Nevertbeless, I don’t do anything of the kind!” the Sport replied. ‘* And why not?” r “ Because, if sore Abbey cared a cent’s worth for you, “ante not neglect you for a miserable coot like myself!” ir Tom bowed his head upon his hands for a mo- ment, then arose and walked away. “That fellow’s a goner, sure!” the Sport mut- tered, as he gazed after him through the gatherin; gloom. ‘‘Cupid’s struck him slap in the heart. wit! one of those confounded arrows, Well, that's the way it goes, anyhow. Here I’ve been idling away a week or over, when I should have been at work. And all because of a pretty face. Work is now be- fore me, and I must delay no longer.” He rose from the step impatiently, and entered sum and .the cabin, closing the door behind bim, His quarters were not furnished in a very palatial manner, for a table, stool and cot-bed constituted the furniture, unless might be mentioned a stock of arenes and a few cooking-utensils over by the re-place. A bull's-eye lantern sat upon the table and lighted the apartment sufficient for the Sport’s purpose. ~~ stead!” He first seated himself at the table, after which he drew a package of papers from his pocket. “Here is the mst given me by the Detective- Avenger, Nugget Ned,” he muttered, spreading a sheet of paper out before bim, “‘and this is what I want, It is the complicated key to the Seeret Mine, which Iam the owner cf when I findit. But it’s a uzzle to study out, Every time I’ve tackled it so Far I've got disgusted and thrown it aside.” - On page i7 we give a fac-simile of the rude map, which had been given the sport in Deadwood, as related in No, 64, of Headle’s Pocket Library. “Now, who in the name of Old Harry can make head or tail out of such a mess?” the Sport muttered. « Here on another paper is the key, according to Nug- fet Ned’s understanding, which far surpasses mine, { he knows how to find the secret mine by this trap, The directions are as follows: ‘ Stari S. W., and go N. E. to main trail... Go N, W. to Crook ; thence due ast to blind canyon ; N. W.. orer mountains ; ging wiley; falls; search.’ Now, blast my eyes, if that isn’t a fine way to give a fellow information. I’ve found the valley and the falls undoubtedly; the next thing is to find the secret mine. He gives me the interesting advice to search for it. But where in the deuce is a feller to search? In the earth, where allthe other sanguine mortals are digging, or in the waters? Hala thought strikes me, The falis! What were they inscribed upon the map for, if not of use?” Lighting a cigar, he continued to go over the map carefully, “In under where the falls of the map would seem to pour over the precijive is a figure x!” he mur- mured—“ very small, but yet discernible. I wonder if any importance is attached to that? By Jove! I believe I’ve at last stumbled upon the right clew. The secret mine is somewhere about these fails, and in that mine men are working in golden rock, unbeknownst to the world at large. And Iam the _only living man who has the knowledge of this mine, except those miners, whoever they are. Tam the captain of a band of unknowns!” ‘No! you err there. I ‘about this town as a living specimen of how I quil am the captain in your ‘ at 19 The words sip Bh th the room in a strange, cool yoice, and Rosebud Rob wheeled around, to_ find that he was not alone. A man stood close by, with folded arms, and masked face—a man, about whose mustached mouth there hovered a peculiar smile, It was Joaquin, Jr.! Rosebud Rob dea vent to a prolonged whistle. as he saw him, and proceeded to make a critical sur- vey of this man, whose presence was so gratuitously vouchsafed, It was one of the Sport’s traits of character never to be surprised at anything, but he could not heh beg curiously aroused at the coming of the maske stranger. ‘ ell”? he said, after a pause, “who are! our? \ F wi Sorry I haven't a card!” the other replied, with a second smile. ‘My name, however, is ies at “What! the famous bandit?” 5g ae son of the famous bandit- the ‘toll-gate “man ‘Ah! yes. I have heard of you,” * Did you ever hear a good of me, Sir Sport?” “None to speak of. They say you gambled away your child!” “Ha! Who says that?’ “Oh! Lheard of it down at Hayward, the night the affair occurred. * You were there, then?” ““T was.” «3 “Then. maybe, you can tell me what became of — my boy Sorry, but I don't know.” - a Something like a moan escaped the Spaniard’s ips. £ pee heis dead. Ihave never been able to — learn a single tiding of him,” 2 “Nor of your wife?” “No! She has never been seen since she left me. You heard the story, then?” “Yes, a dozen times. But to business, my dear sir. You sa; “jes are ahead of me, as captain of * these men of the secret mine?” : “Tam. Iwasa member of Nugget Ned’s band, and after he had departed for the East, I told the bargain he had made with you to the boys, and was _ elected to the office of commander.” i ‘Consequently, should I proceed to act further in — this matter—”’ a ““You would be silenced |” “am Rosebud Rob whistled again. po cle Pies another of his air-castles smashed at the nning. be Tam not surprised,” he said, with a grimness to his tone. ‘Everything I take hold of in a specula- 4 tive ye literaily burns my fingers. So it has been — with this last case. And now, Mr. Joaquin, what is your business here with me?” __ t “My business is to get possession of that map and - 4 destroy it,” the Spani cried, suddenly springing — 3 toward the table. But the strong gripe of the Sport was at his throat, and he was hurled half-way across the — room. “If you will be so kind as ‘to remember the little _ Scriptural fact, the a pe belongs to me,” Rosebud Rob said, coolly. ‘ en you get possession of ii it will be yours.” “Curse you!’? Joaquin breathed, fiercely. ‘‘You — ments have me for an enemy instead of a friend, — en?” aad “ Suit yourself, sir. Friends and enemies are two things I regard as they should be regarded—forin- — stance: there is an individual stalking somewhere — accounts with enemies.” “1 think I have seen him, if you refer to the toug! called Cross‘Hyed Mike,” Joaquin said, “You re fuse to give up the map?” \ —y “ Most assuredly I do.”

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20 ‘“Then allow me to bid you good-evening. When = ae again it will be in a different manner, I About this same time, three men were seated in the room of Byron Cavendish, putting their heads together in the formation of villainous plans. “The work must be done at once,” Cavendish him- self was saying, in a savage tone. “I’ve got tomake my stake and clear out.” “Why so? You are not such a coward as to fear that ea Siac Jvaquin?” sneered Devere, contemp- tuously. Tt ie not him alone, that I fear, although his hat- red is not to be despised,” Cavendish replied. ‘It is this infernal [rishwoman, who has been following me around, wherever I have gone, for the last week, Ourse her!” “Hal ha! ha!” __ “Well, what are you laughing about? Idon’t see anything so funny about it. now.” * Well, why don’: you marry her?” “Marry the devil!” “Nol no! you're already joined to him. But, you see, marry this old lunatic, and make her serve your urposes, After you have done with her, Cross- yed Mike can easily tap her upon the head;” and the man from Custer City nodded toward the third man of the party, who, as be had intimated, was the bully, Cross-Eyed Mike, The bully of bel-puuch fame sat in one corner “upon a stool, and was rather an amusing-looking . Specimen of humanity. His head and face were nearly eovered with stain- ed bandages, which plastered his wounds, only leay- ing his eyes, mouth and chin exposed to view. Every ones in awhile he would give vent to a groan of pain and rage, while his huge bony hands would ¢linch and unclinch in a way that boded no good to the cause of all his suffering and mortification. “ Ef ye want any funerals "tended to, ye kin bet hyar’s w’at is in ther right speerit fer ther bizness!” the giant announced. “*You shall work directly at good salary!’ Devere replied. “And now. my lord, what do you say to marrying this old Irish vagrant, who styles herself Mrs. Bounce? Of course, it would only be done in - the name, and after we’ve used her, it will be easy to put her out of the way.” “But in what way can we use her?’ the baronet demanded, disguste1 with the idea. ‘“Hasy enough. She sits and talks much with the Hermit. Gat her to pump out the secret of the cache containing the treasure.’ “ Yes, yes; but will she do this?—and think of the trials [ am to undergo!” gasp2d Cavendish, “Pshaw! what of that? Will the gold not repa ou for that, and more? Come, don’t be a, fool. ou ars dead broks and I’m depending on you for eash. It’s your only hope of finding out about the - treasure.” -* And how about the old man and the girl?” *“Tilattend to that. The Hermit’s doom is as good as sealed now, I have got on intimate terms with _ the cook below, and she is in possession of a vial of _ liquid one drop of which, placed in the old man’s coffe, when I may see fit to direct, will insure his _ death within an hour.” “Devere, you are a villain.” “Not partic Uarly so, my lord. 1am serving you for money. else I should not plan thus. Half of that trea:ure which the Hermit has stored away will amply compensate for a little work lite this!’” “*See heer, Cap! Jest hold yer hosses a bit, Ye ‘seem ter be countin’ on half o’ that aurize-ous?’ Gasket grunted, suspectingly. _ Yes,” Half is to be mine.” ‘Karect. An’ ther Englisher he art counttn’ on tother half, I calkylate, hain’t he?” ~ -“ Cartainly.” Wuaal, { war thinkio’ thet same, an’ I’m a sinner ef Idon’t fail ter see whar my haff cums in, Tw i 4 met” t = ° 4 Idyl, the Girl Miner. bie e ha’ves make a sheer in, nohow. “Oh! as to that, we will pay you a fair sum out of our individual shares after your work is done,” “No ye won't. I kick!” “What?” “I kick, like a yearlin’ steer. I bawk lika boro. I squeal!” * What do you mean, you fool?” **T illustrated plain enuff, didn’t 1? ¥ ain’t doin’ bezness after thet same style, you bet. Oh! no— nary time! a@ muscle,”* ‘Nonsense! Are you crazy, man? We can get a dozen to do the work for a drink of tarant’ler.” The ruffian grinned broadly, and winked his cross- eyes knowingly. “Stave ahead, ef ye want to. I’ve got inter yer plans, an’ Pll expose ’em all, sure’s I’m ther forty- raph 0’ a modern Patience on er monument, Here go!’ and he arose as if to depart. “Stop! Sit down!” both men cried in alarm, ‘*You shall have a third, if you serve us faithfully. Now for our plans,” “First, you are to get the Irishwoman over!” said Devere. ‘ All depends upon finding out where the treasure is hidden. I know a fellow up the guich who once studied for a preacher, but got suspended from the pulpit for stealing an over- coat. He knows all the crooks an’ turns in the pro- ere and can splice you so it won’t be holding in w.”? ** Are you sure?” Cavendish demanded, dubiously. “Of course. The next thing, this meddlesome Sport must be put out of the Way “Not by me!” the giant growled, quickly. had my fill o’ thet sardine.” “Very well; I'll attend to that, then, The girl is left for you. She must be captured and carried into the mountains. There’s an old hut over beyond the west range that would be a capital prison to leave her in.” ’ “Then I’m ter nab her an’ skedaddle at. first chance, eh?” the giant asked, an evil glitter in his bull, an’ ye kent squeeze anuther “Tve I has a third outen thet, or I don’t work. - eyes. i “Yes; but mind, you’re to offer her no rudeness or insult.” “ Bet. yer ae TN! handle her like I would a baby |” was the reply, as the man rose to leave the roora. “Tl lay fer my job ter oncet, and resurn.” After he had gone, Devere said: > I “ He'll do his part all rizht. never fear. A¥cer we get through with him, it all depends on our zener- osity whether he gets a third of gold or a third of cold lead. Ha! ha! I think the latter would serve our plans furthest.” ‘Hist!’ Cavendish said, ina low tone. “There is a knock at the door.” : _ “The deuce! Who can be coming here at this time of night?’ Both listened. Again there came a soft rap, evi- dently that of some person who was timid. ‘* It’s a woman’s rap,” Devere whispered. ‘Shall Tlet her in?” - : “Yes; we willsee what sbe wants, Per aps it is the girl, Idyl.”’ ‘Never fear. She’d not come here, for she fights shy of us beth.” Arising, he approached the door, partly opened it, and peered out into the dark hallway. A muffled figure nushed forward past him into the room—the figure of a woman, evidently, enveloped in a long, hooded cloak, with a thick vail tied down over her face, which served the purpose ¢* a mask to her identity. * Excuse me, pray!’ a low, musical voice ex claimed, ‘‘ but came here in the hope of finding a man whom | wish to see.” ‘ ““Ah, lady! be'seated!’ Devere sid. setting a chair forward for her tooceupy. *‘‘ Perhaps I or my com- panion may be able to fill out the bill.” “Ts his mame Cavendish?” the woman demanded, -_? ; & 2 a

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Idyl, the Girl Miner- pointing toward his lordship, who started strangely, a apprehensive pallor coming upon his florid coun- ance, “T have the honor of being Lord Byron Cavendish, my lady,”’ he said, with a profo'nd bow. ‘Then you are the man I seek. Ihave come for my child!’ and throwing aside her vail, Berenice Muriete stood erect, with resolute face and flashing eyes. Cavendish hissed a curse through his teeth, but a warning glance from Devere caused him to check his anger. “You, madame? Who are you, pray?” ““Why ask that question?” the mother cried, vehe- mently, ‘‘ when you know full well that Lam the wife of the reckless fool whom you robbed of his child at the gaming-table, in Hayward? I am Berenice, Joa- ta 's wife, aud I have come for my little son—my et. Do you hear? Ihave come either to possess myself of him, or to take your worth'ess life. You are two to one, but I canmurder you both. A frantic mother knows no barrier between herself and child!’ CHAPTER IX, “TO-MORROW NIGHT AT MIDNIGHT '—THE MARRIAGE. “Portes take the woman!” Cavendish gasped. “She is mad!” **No, she is perfectly sane,’ Devere_replied, a sin- ister smile illuminating his face. “Il vouch for that. It is her motherly eagerness to again get pos- session of her child which causes her agitation. I am almost positive we can strike a bargain. The child is alive yet, my lord, is it not?” “Tt was, at Jast accounts.” the English schemer replied, catching his coadjutor’s eye. 3 ‘But wasso securely hidden away that this wo- man could not find it, were she to search a life- time?” 5 “Exactly.” “Tt is well. In order to obtain her child, she must work for us, you see—must be our slave, to serve us in whatever way we may choose.” “ Sir [” Berenice gasped, stepping back a ; “What vile plot would you instigate now? I’llnever lift a finger to serve you!” 5 “Then by heaven! Iswear that your child shall die before another day is ended, madam!” Caven- dish cried, triumphantly. ‘tI never knew how I was going to turn the brat to account hardly, but I see clearly eaoug now, You shall work for us, or m, own hands shall feed him to the mountain wolves!” deathly faintness seized Berenice, and che reel- ed back with a gasp and a low cry, as She heard the threat of the unprincipled villain. She sunk upon the chair, her eyes fixed upon the baronet, in a gaze that, eaused him to shift uneasily in his seat. You feed my child to the mountain wolves. you” monster !’’ she breathed, as if she could not believe that she bad heard him utter the words aright. “You feed my innocent babe to the ravenous wild beasts if I refuse to do your bidding!” “Precisely, madame. One, in this world in which we live, is forced to look out for his own ends at the scirhpa of his next neighbor. Tam sadly in need of alittle help, such as you might be able to tender me. "fis nothing so terrible that you need shrink from doing it. Your love for your boy ourht to be strong enough that you would fight through fire and blood to regain possession of him!” ‘Go on!” she gasped. her hands clinching and bosom rising and falling heavily. “Go on—‘ell me what I would have to do to get back my child!” “Certainly, madame. To begin with, let me as- sure you that we are an unprincipled. unscrupulous pair of knaves, even though it so happens that I am ‘an English lord. ; “his fact, however, need make nc material dif- ference as to our dealings with you. If you serve us faithfully you shall have your chi'd back. rest as- sured. Now, the case we have in hand is this. There is an old man named Jason Abbey, who lives in the lower pa. of this building, that has accumulated an immense fortune, and secreted it where no one can find it, We want it, and it is tobe your business to find out where itis cached. _ This you can easily do, and report to us,"” “And you will give me back m: , if I do this?” er hands c! * Murder!” ped; “foul murder! Oh! no, sir. God help me! I cannot do that—I cannot—I cannot do that!” ‘Very well; that settles it!’’ Cavendish said, aris- ing haughtily. ‘There is no use for further parley, evere, Show the woman the door!” “Oh! sir—my child! my precious, darling boy !— you will not—oh! you will not harm him!” “You heard me say what I would do, madam. De- vere, put her out, I say!” “Stop!” Berenice’s voice rung out in a flercely pitiful tone—‘‘ stop! J will do your will rather than that my innocent babe shall die. May God tn hea- ven forgive me for this weakness, but I cannot help it—oh! I cannot help it!” And the poor woman broke down utterly, and sobbed as if her heart were breaking. The two schemers gazed at her a moment in silence; then Devere advanced and laid his hand up- on her shoulder. “Pray do not give way to lamentations, dear lady. Your work is not so terrible. after all, when you consider the future prospect of reunion with your child,” She hurled him back, with a wild gasp, an awful glare in her black eyes. “Do not touch me, you demon in the shape of man!” she cried, “‘do not lay a finger’s weight up- onme. You bave pushed me as far as you can, I will do what you have said, no more. And, God help you, if I do not then get back my child, I will har your heart out. I will rend you limb from “Never fear; we shall do our share of the com- pact, if you do yours!” Byron Cavendish said, eagerly. *‘I will see that the child is ready for de- livery when your work is done!” “Ts need take but little time for mv wox> then, and you can send at once for my child. £ seve but to do murder, for J already know where the gd of Ola Elk, t) e Hermit, is secreted |” ; Be a the two men exclaimed, quickly, while the: their eyes. AT know where the gold is secreted!” Bere- pice cried, waving them back. ‘‘T accidentally found out, a few days since, you villains!”’ “Then you shall tell us where it is now, or we will murder you!” Cavendish hissed, with devilish wan, and ‘he drew a revolver from his pocket, as e spoke. We are alone, and you are completely in our power. You shall tell us now, and while we are in search of the treasure, you can finish up your job!” “That is it exactly!"" Devere added. “ Nota min- ute is to be lost. Give us the secret 2t once.” A erafty, triumphant smile flitted to the pale lips of Berenice Muriete, and transformed her, as it were, ~ into an avenging Nemesis “Not one syllable of that secret shall leave ih lips now!” she said, solemnly. *T shall go on wil my work. The old Hermit shall die, and then I am the only living being that can point out the loca- tion of the secret cache. : “Tt will be my hour of triumph then. I will hold the secret, and you shall first deliver up my child, ere you are Jet into it, Ha! ha!” : “Stop! You shali never leave this room alive, woman, unless you disgorge now!” Devere cried savagely, . ‘It’s either death to you, or gold to us,” 21 started toward her, with a greedy gleam in = i

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tween them that it was ‘and restore our darling to your arms moment; then approaching him threw her 22 . Idyl, the Girl Miner. “Kill me if you choose. Iam strong now, where I was weak a few moments ago. With me perishes po only hope of getting that fortune, for well you now that Jason Abbey would never reveal the secret, even to save his own child.” The two schemers were staggered. They knew that she was right—that it all remain- ed with her, whether or not they were to get the ee gain for which they had plotted so thorough- ly. Their exchange of ace seemed a signal be- est for their plans to trust all to her. ' “You will, then, as l understand it, kill the Hermit, and upon the delivery of the boy, yield up the secret of ve at treasure?”’ Cavendish said. “TL willl’ “Very well. A woman’s word should be sufficient, When will you strike?” “To morrow night, at the midnight hour; meet me in the gulch; I shall be ready then!’ So much she said, after which she turned and left . ae no attempt being made by the men to inder. A dark figure cautiously preceded her down the stairway, and out into the gulch, which was full of Jw gd and might have screened a host of ene- mies. With hasty steps Berenice hurried along, until, when she was some distance from any habitation, a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder, and she was brought to a standstill. Before her was the figure of a man, with flowing hair and masked face. attired as a ranger. She could not scream; a deathly faintness seized her, and she reeled in her tracks, for the dark, ter- Tible eyes that met here were those of Joaquin Muri- “Sh!” he said, in a tone that she knew meant command. ‘Make no violent demonstrations. I mean you no harm; I merely want to speak with ou,” ‘* Well?” she gasped, shrinking out of his grasp, her tone cold, calm, deliberate. ‘‘I am listening.’ ‘Oh, Berenice! do not speak to me in that way, for it tears open the wound in my heart afresh. wife, I have been chap your footsteps to ask you this once, in the favor of a true and just God, to come back to me as a wife. Do not say no. Leave off this search for your child—leave it to me to find Oh! for the love of our Father, my wife, do not say no—do not say no!” and convulsed with emotion, the strong man crapped on his knees before her, and raised his eyes supp! Las : “Arisel’’ Berenice said, not one touch of pity in her tone—not one sign of relenting. “I will uever live with you until our little son is found. I have sworn to this—I will keep my word. Go! Ourpaths in life diverge here!” Stay! I would speak one word ere we separate. This time, Berenice, I feel that it will be forever, Something is constantly whispering in my ears the sentence, ‘Make thy peace.’ Oh, my wife! it is this which tells ne that we are looking for the last time upon each other’s faces—that never again shall we speak together, until aftér death shall have joined us in thé other world. Berenice, shall we part in anger? Oh, no! God forbid that such a thing should be! But touch my hand with yours, and say you forzive me—then I will let you go!” The tones of the man were now too pitifully thrill- ing for the wife to withstand. She hesitated but a rms about his neck, and covered his lips and forehead with burning kisses. “Joaquin, my husband, T do forgive you, as I hope God may forgive us both!” she murmured, *Farewell—?’ She did not finish the sentence. but staggered from his embrace, only to fall in a swoon at his feet. “ Poor Berenice!” he said, hoarsely, as he knelt by her side. ‘*It was cruel in me to cause her this - pain and emotion, but I could not give her up with- out her forgiveness, Oh! how I deserve her scorn and contempt! how I merit this desertion, as man never merited it before! God bless you, my dar- ling! I mustleave younow. Imust not tarry, when other work calls me-elsewhere.”” He fixed her head so that she would lie easy; then bending. he imprinted a last clinging kiss upon the cold, irresponsive lips, after which he arose to his feet and strode away from the spot, a different man than he had been a short time before; for now his step was firm, his courage strong. “Tt was a long while ere Berenice awoke from her swoon, but it was to almost instant comprebeasion of what had occurred and her surroundings. “Joaquin has gone!” she moaned, ‘May God watch over him, for I, too, fear we shall never meet again!’ After the night, came the day. The sun arose from behind the gigantic crags, and looked down as smiling into Cascade Gulch, as though nothing of villainy had ever entered there. The air was fragrant and balmy; the dreamy In- dian summer haze hung over the ridges; the sounds of nature droning, too, such soft, sweet music as would almost lull a person into sleep. About noon, Rosebud Rob, while sauntering south- bat through the valley, came unexpectedly upon yi. : She was seated in under the shade of a large cot- tonwood tree, which grew upon the banks of the rushing stream, engaged in reading from a novel which she had borrowed of Sir Tom Somerset, some days previous. She was half-reclining, with her head pillowed up- on one hand and supported by her elbow, while her wavy, silken hair bléw about in confusion, as it was lifted by the gentle breeze. She did not notice the had been gazing admiringly moments, Then, she flushed scarlet, and assumed a more ified posture. ‘Well! well!’ Rosebud Rob exclaimed, in his laughing, easy way, “what is the meaning of this? Has the girl-miner really taken a holiday, all by her- self, and laid the pan and shovel aside?” “Yes, Mr. Mapleton. Iam sure I ought to have a holiday once in a while.” _“ True enough. Not one young lady out of a pos- sible hundred, average them the world over, would think they could labor as you do, and at the same time be as cheerful. So you prefer the quiet, and the companionship of a book, eh?” “Yes, especially on such a day. Won't you join me in my solitary picnic, Mr. Mapleton? See! I have a lunch, and some reading.” ‘Nothing would please me better, Miss Idyl, but, you see, I’ve got wind of a little circus, down the gulch, here, and I’ve got to be present.”’ “A circus, sir?” f ““Yes—that is, it will amount to about the same thing, inthe end. There will be some pantomime a little fun, and possibly some tumbling.” , “T must confess that I don’t understand you, sir.” “And Iam s6rry that I cannot give you any fur: ther information,” the Sport replied, gayly. “ Good day! I wish you a happy time.” _ Thon he was off, his quick elastic stride soon talc- ing him out of sight, among the crowds of miners that filled the gulch. In a. cabin, some distance south of the hermitage, we will next meet the reader. / The place is newly-built, with the rude simplicity . of the frontier, and is untenanted, save by two men, who stand facing each other, in one of the unfur- nished rooms. They were the two plotters, Devere and Lord Gav- endish, av.{ upon the face of the latter was a suk len, uneasy expression, Pra, on arrival, until he own upon her for some

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Idyl, the Girl Miner. rn nS ce “J don’t faney this business in the least!* he rowled, savagely. ‘“‘The idea of my marrying hat Irish vagrant is perfectly preposterous. ‘'Sup- osing wind of such a thing should get back to Eng- land, which is not unlikely, as my evmpanion du voy- age Somerset, is in this very town? There’d be a . high old rupture then in my social position—curse p “ Pshaw! I’ve told you a dozen times that it would be all right. And it is imperative that you should get her over on our side.” * And why imperative?” ‘*T will tell you. Several times I have discovered that woman listening at our dovr, which causes me to believe that she may have found out some of our plans. As her mania seems to be for getting mar- ried, once you get her under your wing as a wife you can easily manage it.” ‘Curse her! But there must be no mistake in this matter. I am not to be legally bound to her!” “Of course not. Weslyn, who will be here pre- sently, is no authorized preacher, so that though you may be wedded in the regular style, it will not be holding. They ought to be here now.” “Se ms to me you are mighty anxious to get me inio this scrape,” bis lordship asseverated. “So Lam, for all depends on gettin; that woman over, To-night, remember, our work begins.” At this juncture the door opened, and into the room bounded the eccentric Mrs. G. W. Bounce, with a screech of delight, followed by a smooth-fac gentleman, in black garb, who possessed a very clerical aspect. “Och! me own honey! me darlint, entirely!” Mrs. Bounce cried, as she espied Lord Cavendish, and rushed into his embrace. giving him 4 regular grizzly hug. ‘Och! me shamrock, I’ve come to yez, wid a heart overflowing wid swate love. Divil a bit do I care now fer thet spalpeen who ran off wid me money, for it’s mesilf that has found a jewel phat shines sy gece bedad!” : “Hang it, woman, release me!’’ Cavendish growl- ed, strugeling to get away, but to no purpose, for Mrs. G +7. B. hung on pertinaciously. ‘* Confound you, Devere, will you stand there and permit this— this accursed nonsense?” * Nonsinse, d’ye call it?” roared Mrs. Bounce, her voice now pitched toa high key—-‘‘ nonsinse, is it? Ob! no, me darlint, et’s the privileges av a swate- art, ontirely, to hug her bowld laddy, so it is, so it is.’ ‘* Release him. Mrs. Bounce,” said Devere. ‘‘The Reverend Mr. Weslyn has arrived, and will marry you to Lord Cavendish, after which he will take you tot e hotel, where you will have a happy time, all by yourselves, with no one to interrupt you.” “Shure. an’ how do yez do, Mr, Weslyn?” the bride-prospective cried, leaving Cavendish to bounce into the arms of the minister. ‘“‘ Och! wurra, an’ be it yersilf that is goin’ to bind me darlint closely to my heart, forever?” “T believe I am to officiate in that. capacity, mad- pan Weslyn replied, shaking off Mrs. B., not tco gently. In the mean time Devere had found chance t whisper to his ee Be e ‘* Brace up, old boy! Don’t be seared, but take all with the resignation of a saint. When the knot is tied, you can take your bride to the hotel, where I will join you later. for work,” Cavendish shuddered, and muttered a disgusted protest. 3 . It was a positive torture to him. “Are the parties both ready?’ the Reverend Mr. Weslyn ventured to ask. “Both ready,” Devere replied. ‘Mr. Weslyn, I ke you acquainted with Lord Byron Cavendish, ot Heda This Hibernian lady is to be his bride.” ‘‘Arrah! an’ it’s true fer ez, whin ye say them same!" Mrs, G. W. B. cried, unding forward, and thrusting her large bony hand into that of his lord- 23 ship. ‘‘ Marry us_now, yer honer, azid it’s a swate ould smack ye shell hev from the bride, bedad!” It is to be inferred that the clerical Weslyn had no desires in this direction, any more than had Caven- dish, whose hand was suffering untold pain in the grasp of the prospective bride. Devere stood back at a safe distance, convulsed with repressed laughter. ; The reverend gentleman now produced a book from in under his arm, and in solemn tones began to read a marriage service. Cavendish was A eae and trembling in every limb, while his hride stood squarely erect, with a stolid expression of countenance, which was com- placency personified. At last the cornea was concluded, and Weslyn handed Mrs Cavendish a certificate, which he haa previously drawn up. ; “Dear lady, that is a certificate of feed marriage. Allow me to wish you both much joy!” ‘Here, too!” cried Devere, advancing. ‘* My lord, may the good Spat ever bless your union,” “And let me be next to offer my congratulations!” exclaimed another voice, cool and triumphant in its tone, and there sen bed from the adjoining room the Sport of the mines, Rosebud Rob. CHAPTER X. LEGALLY BOUND—JOAQUIN’S BLOW—CAPTURED. A FRIGHTFUL curse escaped Cavendish as his gaze fell pen the Sport. *: How came this devil here, Devere?” he demand- ed, hoarsely. “That I am unable to tell you, my lord. Isup- posed the cabin untenanted.”’ * And got very much fool-ed, as a_natural conse- uence!” Rosebud replied, with a chuckle. ‘* Mrs. eneral George Washington Cavendish, allow me to offer my congratulations, and at the same time square up adebt. You know I promised you a hun- dred dollars, providing you succeeded in wedding this aristocratic British blackleg!” and with a bow, ns ie a couple of fifty dollar gold-pieces in her ands, “Och! shure an’ it’s a moighty foine gintlemen yez ‘be, Mr. Rosebud; but divil a candle can the loikes of yez hold to my swate shamrock be me side!” Cavendish wheeled upon Devere, with a gasp, his face as white as death, ‘““What—what does this mean, Devere? I have been fooled—tricked into a marriage with this wo- man—this Irish vagrant!” “Oh! wurra! wurra! xe mind what he says?” Mrs. G. G. W. B. Cavendish cried, indignantly. and clinging firmly to her new spouse. she gave him®% couple of severe cuffs in the region of his ears, “Dye moind how the spalpeen calls his bride an Trish vagrant, now? Och! luck to yez, old man! It’s mesilf that will have to break yez in to the double’ harness, tha same as poor Mike Maloney used to break in the mules. Arrah! me darlint, it’s many’s tha time that I'll black the eyes of you, an’ pull out the Galway slu; that grow forninst the face of ez.. No! yez con't, bedad 1" as Cavendish struggled rantically to get free. “‘It’s Mrs. Gineral George Washington Cavendish as is good at hangin’ on, an’ by the same ghost av Patrick McHenry, I'll niver part wid yez, me swate darlint, from mornin’ “till — night.” And, as if to enforce her words. the new bride forcibly threw her arms about his lordship’s neck, and nearly smothered him with kisses. “Help! Take this she-cat off, somebody!” he roared, lustily. ‘‘ Kill her—do anything to rid me of Hee PE ea eurse you, you are the cause of all this rouble!’” \ “Hold up, British!” Rosebud Rob cried, at this — juncture; *‘ don’t lay it all op your partner-in-crime, mt give me credit for alion’s share. Devere ha arranged that you should be wedded by an illegal — minister, but I willed otherwise *’ Cae * What? what?” Cavendish almost this man—” yelled—“ and. ij ;

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BA Idyl, the Girl ifiner. . ee **¥g the Reverend Calkins Smithson, a regularly or- dained minister of the gospel!’ the Sport replied, triumphantly, “and, consequently, you are legally wedded to Mrs. Bounce—now Mrs. Lord Cavendish. Ha! ha! hal” The Englishman uttered a nondescript sound, be- tween a gasp anda groan, and would have fallen had not the stout arms of Lady Cavendish supported m. : “This ig a damnable plot to ruin me!”’ he articu- lated, hoarsely, ‘“Tt’s an imposition—a cheat!’’ interposed Devere. “IT see, now, that this manis not Weslyn, although the resemblance would deceive almost any person.” “ft am the Reverend Calkins Smithson!” the recent knot-tyer said, aan pt 8 his hat. ‘‘ Learning through the so-called Sport, of this villainy about to be prac- *ticed upon an unsuspecting woman, I readily con- sented to counterplot, and make the union a unionin law and fact. As I am an ordained and licensed tmninister of the gospel, the marriage between Lord error Zteaicn and the Irish lady is perfectly legal, Ao nding.” ‘‘Arrah, me darlint! me shamrock!” Lady C. said, giving her spouse another desperate hug. “It’s me- self that will stick by ye! till tha day of doom!” “Lord Cavendish,” said Rosebud Rob, calmly. “* you may as weil make the best of a bad job, and take your bride tothe hotel. This is no place to de- tain a newly-married woman, whose romantic heart craves to be alone with you, that she mav manifest more of her unselfish affection. [tender you my congratulations, wish you much joy, and go on in advance of you. Smithson, will you join me?” And, with bows, tiie two men left the cabin, and from the door Devere watched them saunter away. He then turned back toward Cavendish, who stood pale and irresolute. “Tt has been a bad ending,” he said, “but all the same, I am sure we have got Mrs. C. enlisted in our interests. Take her to the hotel and explain our _ plans, my lord, and P’ll guarantee she'll serve us a good turn yet.” And then, he too, took his departure, and nothing was left but for the Englishman to do as advised. peeve it cut his pride as it had never been stabbed ore. Many were the curious and amused glances that were leveled at him as he went through the valley with the new Lady Cavendish clinging to his arm, while behind her trailed the enormous train of her huge-figured calico dress. And though his lordship tried his best to avoid meeting any more of the miners than possible, he was horror-struck to find a swarm of them gathered about the door of Mrs. Matrevis’s establishment, among whom he recognized Rosebud Rob, Idyl, and Sir Tom Somerset, in conspicuous positions. A sparkle of mischief entered the Sport’s eyes as - hesaw them approachin’, and fixing his gaze tri- umphantly upon the Englishman, he eried: . “Hyar they cum, pilgrims—the new Lord an’ lady Cavendish, What d’ye say, now? Git ready —three cheers for the bride!”’ And three loud, long yells were given, such as had ~ ne’er before echoed through that valley, and they caused Cavendish’s face to redden like a turkey’s comb, while Mrs, C. rather. seemed to enjoy it. “Good fer yez, me b’yees!” she cried, in her ‘i ay Taping tone. ‘Bad luck to yez, too, fer xe can" hey the refusal at mesilf now, at all! It’s the nee Cedi of a real lord that I am now ontirely, -beda Another yell, then the ill-assorted couple had van- “ished within the hotel. ‘There! what do you think aboutit, now? Doyou 3 aes Mrs. C. her choice?” Rosebud Rob cried, turns ing to Idyl. ; -*Oh! no! indeed! I rather think she has got the Worst of the bargain.” : “Don’t fool yourself, there. She will make his lordship toe the mark, every time. Somerset, ¥ would speak with you.” And the two young3men sauntered away. When they were out of ear-shot, the Sport stopped short, and faced the baronet with a keen gaze. “T have come here to ask you a few questions!” he said, in his brisk way. “I want to know how you are getting along with our pretty girl miner?” Somerset smiled, faintly. ‘A very good way to hit mea stab, that!’’ he re. plied, ‘‘ when you are doubtless aware that I am not getting along at all.” “Don’t misconstrue my motives,’ Rosebud Rob replied, soberly. ‘‘Ido not wish to oppose your suit, but propose to further it, having come to the con- clusion that you are a square sort of pilgrim, and just the fellow to chaperon the girl through life.” “* But is it not impossible for me to win her, wher she is painly fascinated with you?” “Pshaw! no. You see, I’ve a peculiar tact for managing these women, who are eternally and for- ever falling in love with me. If my flashy appear- ance is the captor of so many feminine hearts, it is but natural that I, a man to suit all circumstances, should have a remedy for the evil. Now, then, I believe, that, if Miss Idyl could be disgusted with me, she would turn to you, and you could win her, Therefore, here is a letter, for the purpose. You note that it is directed in a feminine hand, and that it comes from Deadwood, Well, inside, is a clever] executed forgery, purporting to come from an af- fectionate wife of mine, who Pee of our family, and asks me to come back to her children and her- self, at once, etc., etc. Now, supposing Miss Idyl were to pick this up, and read it—do you believe she would want anything more to do with that sportive individual they call Rosebud Rob?” “But this would be cruel deception, if the girl really cares for you shee ‘“«Humph! all's fair in love or war. Tregard Miss Idyl as an estimable young lady, but as I’ve no no- tion of incumbering myself with feminine responsi- bilities, for some time to come, why, I say to you— sail in and win!’’ +2; “And you really propose this scheme in my be- half?” Sir Tom cried, thrusting out his hand, uae “I do, believing you will take good care of Idyl, you get her,” i “Rest assured on that. And I feel almost sure that Tean win hernov.” “Well, I wish you success, There goes Miss Idyl out toward her claim, now. I will cut across, and drop the letter as I passalong, where she will be sure to find ir.” And giving Sir Tom’s hand a grip of assurance, the Sport was off across the gulch, whistling merrily, while Sir Tom sauntered back toward the hotel. Rosebud Rob was as ee as his word. He passed through Idyl’s claim in advance of her and dropped the letter, after which he hurried on toward a grocery store, which he entered, and as a pretext, purchased a few matches. Tdyl came to her claim, and was about to gather up her mining implements for the night, when she espied the envelope, and picked t up. curiously. “Rosebud Rob,’* she mutter: d as she gazed at the writings, ne in “a lady’s nent ao ! % He ra have rop} it when he passed. I will keep it and give it to 5 to-night.” B . i She gathered up her “tools,” and locked them ina pais shanty close at hand, and then wandered, off oward the cottonwood tree on the bank of the stream. Here she seated herself upon the grass, and taking the envelope from her pocket. gazed at the directions a few moments, thoughtfully. _ ‘I wonder what lady corresponds with him?” she murmured, turning the envelope over and over. “Would it be any harm for me to read this?” ? Curiosity and sight are the ministers of tempta- tion; the more you see, the greater the curiosity to see more, and it amounts in the end to. capitulation © of reason and conscience, Sarat ; \

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‘load of passengers, nor were there the usual smiles Idyl, the Girl Miner, Anyhow, the first she knew, Idyl had the letter spread out upon her lap, and an expression of won- er and surprise crept upon her face as she perused it. It had been written some months before, and ran as follows:— “Dearest HUSBAND: ‘*T write to let you know that I am well, and hope you are the same. Seaget our youngest, hes just recovered from a severe attack of the measles; but Harry, Bobby, Dicky, Sammy and Thomas Jeffer- son, Our other cherubs, are well and hearty. Dear husband, I long for you to return home, and—”’ Idyl did not read any further. She was ae satisfied with the revelation which had dawned upon her. “Mr. Maple’ denly growing i am now so gl that nothing but words of nee gies ever passed between us, for, certainly, no good coul have come of it.” A short while afterward Rosebud Rob entered the saloon of Mrs. Matrevis’s establishment, and search- ing about soon signaled Baltimore Bess, who was sitting in one corner, quite alone : Ss nodded as he approached, in her cool, noncha- lant way. ay Wel, they say there’s bin a weddin’ hyerabouts,” she observed. ** Yes; I have succeeded in marrying the Hiberni- an off to the Brifisher. But, now, I have other busi- ness. Bess, old girl, how much are you good for?” A peculiar smile flitted upon the dare-devil girl's her face sud- n is married,” she said id me of it! ale, ‘‘and he never to! face. ‘*\'m ginerally gauged as bein’ death fer sumwhar "*twixt twelve an’ twenty toughs or a brace o’ cinna- mons, when et cums ter squar’ work,’’ she replied, with a smile. “ Leastwise, thar’s them as sez I’m purty nigh boss on shootin’.” ‘Which is all the better for my purpose. As soon as it comes dark, I want you to meet me over on the western side of the creek, prepared for an excursion into the wilderness, if necessary. Will you come?” ‘“Well, now. Ishouldn’t wonder if I mought, ef thar’s goin’ to be any fun afloat.” _ “Never fear. There'll be plenty of it, without doubt.” Then they separated. Just at dusk the usual evening stage came lumber- ing into the town, but it fetched not its customary upon the face of Jake Johnson, the veteran Jehu. One of his horses was limping badly, and the coach had evidently been used for a target for rifle-prac- tice, as it was full of holes and cracks. : And when Jake threw down the lines and leaped from his seat, he swore a good-sized oath that he never would drive ‘‘the shebang ” again. A curious crowd gathered at once, and after being duly urged. Jake finally consented to give his late experience, which must have been pretty hard,: judging from appearances. “Ye see how et war.” he began, blowing his nose vigorously, ‘1 war fetchin’ in a mighty big load o' speculators from Deadwood, an’ most o’ 'em war urty we'l heeled, at that. An’ w'en we got along at “i oaquin’s place, ther road war blocked wi’ a passel o’ masked galoots, who war armed an’ ready fer fight. When I fetched up ther stage ter a stand-still, as I generally do at thet p'int o’ ther cumpuss, Joa- quin hisself, he steps forth, and demands toll—a hundred dollars fer each an’ every galoot, myself excepted, Did they kick? Wal. now, you kin jest bet they did thet same! Wouldn’t pay it, said every man, an’ Joaquin sed they’d haff to turn back an’ go by some other route ter Cascade City, ef they didn’t slap down the cash. Then thar war an’ attempt ter argy, when thet Joaquin he wouldn’t argy wu’th a contynental.copper. 4 ; “Well, ther long an’ short 9’ eb war, b’yees, thata 1 pilgrim finally pulled a ‘ barker’ an’ let drive at Joa- quin hisself, an’ then ther music begun. Them road-agents they jest opened upon thet coach wi their repeatin’ rifles in a way ’twould make yer hair stand upon eend. They jes! riddled thet old shell, an’ ef I didn't leap clean frum ther stage seat below to ther bottom o’ a precipice, ye ken call me a liar, Arter aw’ile I heerd a cessation in ther shutin’, an’ creepin’ ter ther road around ther bend, I found the stage and hosses, an’ kim on. An’ may | be tee- totally cussed fer er turkey-buzzard ef I evyer drive that stage ag’in!”” Lis ee the man Joaquin killed?” asked one of the crowd. “Nary a time. Ther bullet nevyer made him pins though Iked sw’ar et struck him over ther eart. ae ay what do you suppose became of the passen- eTS “ ‘*Reckon some o’ em war salted away inter etez- nity, an’ mebbe some escaped or war captured!” A strong crowd had gathered by this time, and a proposal made to the effect that a band should be organized to hunt the road-pests out of their den was greeted with tumultuous applause. According- ly some three-score of volunteers were chosen. and after arming themselves, set out on foot for the toll- “gate through the shadows of the falling night. They were headed by a fellow by the name of Bal- lantyne. ; A brave man he was, who was never known to shirk at the Spproaae of danger, and consequent! his followers felt less apprehen ion in going to bai tle with one of Joaquin’s type, backed as he was by be reckless a set of men as ever roamed the moun- ains. On arriving at the spot where the toll gate had stood, they found it a smoldering bed of ecals, as wet as the building which had stood in the rear of ‘And nowhere were to be seen the Junior Joaquin and his masked followers. “3 They had disappeared in the night, but whither they had gone was a wisely covered leaving the place; the world had opened up and swallowed them. A few dead bodies were found close by, and upon — each of them were pinned a paper, containing these No tracks were dis- : road-agents and their — leader had literally stepped out of sight, asif the — words: iE “This is not the end! A good beginning will make — a bad ending—for the enemies of “« Joaquin, JR.” While these citizens of Cascade City were looking — after the man Joaquin, there were shadows hoy ee about their own valley, which boded evil to certain ones... One of these shadows turned out to be the giant, Oross-Hyed Mike Gasket. : The ruffian was skulking about with uncommon stealth, for a man of his size, and that he was all ready for some piece of villainy was evident, for he was fully armed, and a horse lay crouching in the NES but afew yards away, just out of the main trail. x2 > As he stood in the dense pall of gloom. and about him, he listened with greedy zest forsome sound for which he was waiting. ; sg gazed — 4

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Rob!”’ the other exclaimed, eagerly. BA — tr sayl must experience when she should find her- Belf in are clutches. With great patience he waited: He knew that she must pass in that direction, on ee return, and he meant to capture her as she came alohg. ; And he was not disappointed! Soon his sharp sense of hearing caught the sound of approaching footsteps, and drawing a large blanket from his shoulders, he crouched and waited. Nearer and nearer came the unsuspecting victim —then, she saw a shadow dart in front of her, but ere she could utter a cry of alarm, a heavy blanket was thrown over her shoulders, and she was caught ap, bodily, in a strong pair of arms. She struggled violently, but all to no avail. She was in a clasp of iron, and being borne swiftly away —ut first on foot, but now on a horse! CHAPTER XI. THE MOON-TIDE—HUNTING THE HERMIT. »A MAN had been following not far behind Idyl, at the time of her capture, and hearing the struggle, rushed forward, but just in time to*hear the night prowler dashing away on horseback. “*T wonder what was the matter?’ he muttered, pausing to listen. The horseman was dashing west- ward across the valley. ‘Could it have been that fellow, Joaquin? Lalmost wish I'd given him that map, for it isn’t a pleasant thing to have an enemy after his particular pattern.” And Rosebud Rob—for it was he, hurried on, little thinking that the retreating horseman was carrying away the girl miner But, he was speedily aroused from his thoughts of Joaquin, by coming in heavy collision with some individual who was hurrying through the dark- nee in a direction opposite to that in which he was going. _ As a natural consequence, both nen were down, in a style not the most graceful. * Confound your clumsy carcass!” the Sport ejacu- lated, rising to a sitting posture. “ what do you mean by telescoping a fellow in that way, without warning?” “Hal I recognize your voice. You are Rosebud “Is itnot so?” “T reckon ye might know by the perfume that ex- hales from my buttonhole bouquet,” the Sport re- plied. ‘“ Who are you?” ‘Tom Somerset. I have been searching for you. Where is Idyl?”” Why? Is she not at the Hermi- “T don't know. She started for the grocery some time ago, and becoming alarmed at her absence, I have come in search of her.” Rosebud Rob gave vent to a prolonged whistle, in- dicative more of comprehension than surprise. * Ave you sure she didn’t pass you as you came?” he asked. “Perfectly sure. I kept watch on either hand, and paused to listen at every few steps.” “Then she’s a goner, sure, I saw a female come out of the grocery and come down this way, but it didn’t occur to me about its being Idyl. A few min- utes ago I heard sounds as if a struggle were tak- ing place, and got here just in time to hear a horse- man dashing away. Oo betwixt me and you, I reckon the Angel o’ the Gulch has been kerried off!” Sir Tom groaned aloud. “By whom? What shall we do?” he asked, excit- edly. “The best thing for you to do.” the Sport observ- ed, shoving his hands thoughtfully down into his breeches pockets—*‘ the best thing for you to do, is ~—well, let me see!—to sail in and rescue her. There’s a noble scope of territory now for you to embrace and prove that you’re really worthy of the little gal. What a grand chance offers for you to fly like a cnight of chivalry to her rescue, and become a he- sic Apolio in her eyes. Jf I were a candidate for » Idyl, the Girl Miner. the matrimoniai office, I’d lose no time in hastening on the trail of mine foes that I might smite them! Oh, no! you bet!” “But—but look at the difficulties that must: be overcome, the dangers that must be met, if a fellow were to attempt pursuit,” Sir Tom said, wincing, and inwardly wishing he possessed half the coojness of the Sport. “ All Pve got to say is, overcome and meet them, sir. If you don’t you'll never win the girl miner, and you'll never become a man to suit all cireum- stances, like myself. Ha! ha! ha!” And then, the Sport walked away, leaving Sir Tom to reflect upon the advice he had just received, The young baronet was not wanting for pluck, and it did not take him many minutes to decide that he should accept the tendered advice. “Tl get mea horse, and go after Miss Idyl,” he said. “That Rosebud chap has an idea that I am not of any great account, and I’ll endeavor to change his mind,” And without delay he started through the gulch, toward a stable where he kept bis own trusty horse. In the meantime, Rosebud Rob. in going in an op- posite direction, met with an adventure, which was at the same time unexpected and uninteresting to him, inasmuch as he had work which demanded his immediate aftention. He was suddenly pounced upon by a couple of men who sprung out of the cover of the night, and before he could defend himself, was borne to the ground, and securely bound. Under ordinary cir- cumstances, two men would have been severely taxed to accomplish this feat with the Sport as a victim; but, it being a complete surprise, they had it all the.r own way. Not only did they bind him, but they bandaged his mouth so that he could not speak, Then, seizing him, they dragged him aside several rods from the main trail, where they pou’: Devere then removed the bandage, but pressed a pistol muzzle significantly to the prisoner’s temple, _ to enjoin silence. “So we’ve got you, eh?’ he said, grimly. “T thought we would. Surprise generally catches the best fish.” “Yes, soitseems. Five to one you couldn’t have taken me fairly!” Rosebud Rob replied. ‘ Perhaps you will be so kind as to nominate your objective point in taking me thus a prisoner.” “Guess it wouldn’t be no hard job to tell_you that,” Devere answered. ‘‘ My pardner, here, Lord Cavendish and I, have come to the conclusion that you know entirely too muck—ar’ much too clever for our liking, and we have concluded to drown you in the creek here, and rid the mines of at least one nuisance, Ain’t that se, my lord?” x “That's it, peg pel Cavendish responded, sav-~ age . ‘We'll see if you’ll come any of woe jokes a arn Se are made food for the fishes. Iwager you won “Don’t wager on uncertainties, my lord!” the Sport warned, with alaugh, ‘‘I am inclined to the opinion that I should enjoy the joke should one of the fish attempt to swallow me. -By the way, how do you like married life, my dear Britisher?”’ { avendish, with an oath, turned to Devere, who — was in an attitude of listening. “Come! let’s tumble this fellow into the creek!” ““Stop!"’ Devere commanded, raising his hand to enjoin silence. ‘Listen! do you hear that roar?’’ They all listened, and all heard it very plainly. It was like a great volume of water pouring over rocks with terrific din, while, at the same time, a sharp wind was blowing through the valley, “What is it?’ Cavendish demanded, in excite- ment.’ “Tt is the coming of the so-styled moon-tide* of * This moon-tide, until lately, has been a reat mystery in the Black Hills country, Its causes f wilh explain in a future story.—AuTHOR. - . ater, Say "5 EOS Bea

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bad not! Sars Iidyl, the @ REE Beto Ea err water, which rushes through this valley every time the moon fulls. It is said to be behind time this month, but is coming now without doubt. Come! we must get tohigher land. Leave the Sport here. The water will do the work for him, I'll warrant!” And turning, the two villains fled hastily from the spot. The moon-tide was upon the citizens of Cascade City, without scarcely any notice. The heavens had clouded over all at once, and the wind had quickened to a strong gale, through the little valley. Then had come the ominous humming roar, and the cascade at the north end of the gulch began to assume the proportions of a oe as great walis of water poured down the dizzy hights. Like mighty breakers, the water seemed to roll over the precipice in tenfold greater volumes than usual, pee plunge into the basin below with a din that was next to deafening. The water, of course, could not be crowded into the narrow limits of the stream, and, consequently, began to overflow the valley bottom with alarming rapidity and increase of depth. eople ran screaming toward the higher land, in terror; horses and oxen were heard neighing and bellowing in affright, and a perfect pandemonium seemed afoot. : But it was only for tne space of a few moments. Then the strange tide had ceased to the ordinary flow of water. And in five minutes, aside from the rushing creek, only little pools of water stood in the valley to tell of the remarkable flood that had been. The citizens came straggling back from their refuge upon the bluffs, and the subject of the flow was deonased with wonder by every one. And a curious fact connected with it, was that the entire bottom of the valley was coated with fresh sand, to the depth of several inches. What would be the result? Would these sands bee gold, as those had done upon the claim of Idy! seeped If so, the future success of Cascade City as a min- ing center, was already an established fact. It only now required a thorough investigation, by daylight, to learn the truth. All night long, the valley was crowded by the ex- ited populace, but strange to say, the particular vicinity of the Hermitage.and Mrs. Matrevis’s es- tablishment, was quite deserted, which was not in accordance with the usual state of matters. About midnight, three persons stood in a dark shadow which lay behind and around the old Her- mit’s cabin. They were each armed, and stood in perfect silence like phantoms of the night. ‘Allis quiet and propitious for our work!’ Lord Cavendish said, in a low voice. ‘‘The moon is com- ing out of the clouds andvwill light our paths when we get among the mountains—for it is there that I believe the old man’s treasure to be hidden. “He must be in his bed, long ere this,’ Devere observed, glancing uneasily about him, “Yes, The cabin is silent. See, the door is even left open, so that the girl, Idyl, can get in. Ha! hal ere this, she is far away from here!’ “Where can the woman be delaying all this time?” Devere growled, his impatience becoming manifest. ‘‘Itisa fag ast twelve.” ‘*Oh! there’s no hurry,” bis lordship responded. “The woman will not miss the redemption of her ghild, by staying away.” Where is the brat?” “ Safely bidden—in the mountain-hut, where Cross- eyed Mike has been taken the girl miner. ”’ “ Who is caring for him?” “ An old squaw whom I hired for the purpose.” Silence now reigned among the three night-hawks, Cavendish, Devere, and the Irishwoman, whom the baronet had married, : 3 Evidently she had received instructions, for she ining to say whatever, but kept close at the % ait 27 pees side of his lordship, as if she were afraid he might attempt to run away. The silence about the cabin seemed equal to that among the hawks: Far down the ch torches could be seen flashing, and voices occasicually burst into loud, long shouts, 2 Suddenly a figure glided near to where the trio were standing, 2 2 “Sh!” a voice exclaimed, and the cloaked fom of a woman was discernible, although the face was ailed, “’Sh! don’t speak aloud, Have you my child here?” “The boy is where I can produce him within a few minutes,” Byron Cavendish said, in hushed tones. ‘‘Go ahead, and do your part of the work irl Miner, repared to, so do not fear, Is the old man in his bed?” “We suppose that he is—at least, we have seen nothing of him since we have been in this vicinity.” ‘Who is this?” Joaquin’s wife demanded, suspi- ciously, pointing to the new Lady Cavendish. ** A trusty person, whom I shall take along with us,’ the Englishman replied. “Och! it’s his wife I is, ontirely,” the late Mrs. G, G. W. B. thought proper to announce, with due im- portance, “You had better have left women out of the case,” Berenice said, impatiently. “What are you but a woman?” Devere demanded. “T don’t asp re to that title, now that I am about to dye my hands in human blood,” was the bitter reply. ‘‘ But I must not hesitate Ke Haye your horses handy as soon as I come back from my dead- ly mission.”’ She turned then and glided away, as silently as she had come. The two villains peered after her through the faint moonlight, and saw her enter the cabin of the Her- mit through the open door, “That means good-by to the old cuss!’’ Devere muttered. ‘His berth for a trip over Jordan is- about as good as spoken for.” With eager impatience they waited, Every minute was now fraught with interest to them. Soon Berenice Muriete came gliding back into their presence. “Ha! you have done the work?” Cavendish hissed, bending forward eagerly. “No, thank God! he was not there. Heis notin the cabin.’ “What? Ten thousand devils! Has the otd wretch escaped us?” “So it would seem. They say that he has been gone since before dark.”’ 3 “Who says this?” “Those in the saloon.” Both Devere and Cavendish joined together in ut- tering a broad curse. “We are thus foiled in the outset,” the former growled, “The old devil has learned of our plans, and gone to secure his gold!”’ “And you are a trailor |”? Cavendish raved, turning — upon Berenice Muriete. “ You are the snake-in-the- grass that has betrayed our confidence.” “Confidence? ha! ha! What confidence sip iaccia

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28 2 the recent bride followed in her wake. Ata gallop they crossed the valley, fording the swift creek, and ene among the mountainous foothills ond. the moon had by this time fully emerged from the clouds, and was casting a dim, whitish radiance over ‘all objects. Everything bore a spectral sem- blance; even the four equestrians of the night seem- éd like phantoms as mney toiled up through the rocky way, led by a trail that was extremely diffi- cult and. in many places, dangerous. But the wife of Joaquin Sepa. knew it_ by heart, for she kept far ahead of the rest, and dashed on fearlessly. The followers fared worse. Cavendish was twice thrown out of the saddle, be- ing a clumsy horseman, while Devere's animal be- came suddenly lame, and limped horribly. For what seemed hours of time to the rear trio, Berenice Muriete led on—on, through a wilderness of rocks; now over rugged bluffs, aloug the edges of frightful precipices; then suddenly down sheer de- scents into black depths, where ic was impossible to see a hand before one’s face, . s Would they never come to the end of this wild journey? " How long, in this way?”’ slacked up to allow their approach. sick of it,” “Arrah! an’ it’s mesilf as has got ontirely the same,” the Irishwoman added. ‘‘ Bad luck to me, T bel’ave it’s Mrs. Bounce I’d rayther ’av’ remained, tnan to be skurried off into that divil’s own ratrate, for heaven’s sake, must we continue Devere at last demanded, as Berenice “I'm getting bedad.”’ “Shut up, woman!” Cavendish enjoined. ‘* What difference does it make to an old wretch like you, where you are?” “Och! do yez hear that? Oh! to the ould dogs wid vex, ye murtherin’ spalpeen! It’s meself as will yit animals, crept cautiously on oyer the trail, Berenice in the lead. } On—then, they all paused in front of a black oper- ing in the rocks, CHAPTER XI. THE GIANT'S FATE, We must return, now, and follow the ruffian, Creer Mike, who, with poor, terrified Idy] clasp- ed in his arms, a helpless prisons, was riding wit: might and main, out of the valley of the cascade, toward the west. He, however, did not take the trail which was later selected by Joaquin’s wife, but struck into a narrow gap or fissure among the crags, further to the south. This entrance was not known to very many, for it was guarded by a chaparral of trees. Once into the fissure, it gradually developed inta a narrow, dark, almost subterranean ravine, which ran for along distance, seemingly through the bowels of the mountains, ere it began to ascend. The giant rode through this, carefully, for it was blockaded in many places by fallen rocks, and logs from the dizzy hight above. It was intensely dar reached a sort of table-land, from which the coun- try stretched off toward the a ag broken confusion of rocky and wooded dead- Ss. As soon as he had made the table-land, the giant dismounted, and laid Idyl upon the ground, He had for some time past been aware that she was unconscious by the dead weight with which she had rested upon his arm, and he now saw an op- portunity to bind her, in order to carry her with more safety. This he atonce proceeded to do, and after he had accomplished the task, he dashed a little water into her face, from a pool, close at hand. é Presently she s' uddered, convulsively, and opened er eyes. A look of utter horror came into her eyes, as she beheld the man monster, dimly revealed in the moon- light, as he bent over her, with a hideous leer. “So Ive got ye, my daisy,’”’ he said, with a tri- umphant chuckle—“ got ye as nicely in my power as arv mice. As ye’ve heerd me say, several times, me, Mike Gasket, o’bell-punch fame, it aire ther fate o’ ther feminine gender.” “Why have you brought me out into this wilder- ness?” Idyl demanded, her heart filled with terror for her safety, for she had seen enough of this ik, - and he made but slow progress, until he finally Inyan Kara range, in giant to feel certain that he was not too good to com- — mit any crime. 1 dish, who hired you to do this work?” “Wal, now, I jest reckon -ye ain't fur off ther groove, my gal. It war jest about thet same galoot as persu: me ter fetch ye away from ther di:- gin’s, you bet.” . “T thought so, I have felt that that villain wag Does evil against me, although I did not expect his. at are you going to do with me?” : “ol ho! i easy enuff answered!” the ruffan growled. “ Tbar’s . snug leetle hut on ahead hyar ‘whar I’m goin’ ter leave ye in keer Id | Aeetsery yy ng te Re = : P BAA ay tne “Tell me, was it not Byron Caven-. _

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Idyl, the Girl Miner, EET Me te = squaw, wile I sot fer Cascade City, ter jine Lord © vendish in s’arch fer ther old Hermit’s gold, 0’ vrich I’m a-goin’ ter get a sheer, you bet yer boots!” ‘What! are these men conniving to rob my poor father of his savings?” Idyl cried, in an agony of alarm and excitement. * Thet’s jest ther ticket they're votin’, an'so am I, me lady. I guess as how thar’ll be no use fer us ter stay hyar longer, so we’ll pull on toward the hut. It can’t be fur away now.” > And picking Idyl up in his arms, as if she were no heavier than a baby, the giant clambered into his saddle, and urged his horse off into a rap.d gallop. Struggle as she would, the prisoner could gain nothing, for she was now securely bound in addition to being clasped in the ruffian’s arms. Finally a hut of logs loomed up along the trail; se-ing which the giant said, with a coarse laugh: ‘“ yar we aire ter yer prison now, an’ I'll leave ye ver ther tender mercies of an old hag until my re- turn. Then you shall become Mrs. Cavendish. Ho! ho! hyar we aire,” and he drew rein in front of the hut, or Indian lodge, which was built of a variety of materials, such as adobes, saplings and skins. There was a single doorway, and in this .stood a slovenly-clad Indian woman, who had been watch- ing their approach with evident curiosity. As Cross-Eyed Mike dismounted, with Idyl in his arms, she managed to position herself so as to fill up the best share of the aperture, ‘Ugh! What pale-face want?” she demanded, “Oh! thet’s all right, gelorious old flower o’ ther wilderness,” the giant replied. ‘I’ve fotched ye an- other dainty morsel fer ye to keep watch over.” ‘“ Wagk! don’t want ’nudder,’’ was the decisive an- swer. ‘‘ White man got wrong place.” ‘Oh! go long now! Don’t ye s’pose this old race- hoss knows his course? Don’t ye s’pose I reckog- nize ther Blue Bell o’ ther Crows?” The face of the squaw suddenly lighted with plea- sure at the words. F Ps ‘Ugh! me Blue Bell,’ she said, with evident pride. **Pale-face speak good to Blue Bell. She do what- ebber he want.’’ ; “Know’'d it,” the giant said, leering down into Idyl’s face, as he'stood her upon her feet, first hay- ing cut the bonds which bound her ankles, “Ye parseeve it’s impossible fer ther weaker sex to resist me,” “There is one who very successfully curried you off,” Idyl returned, sarcastically, ‘‘If he were only here now, I'd net be long a prisoner.” “But he ain’t hyar, ye see, an’ consekently I’m woin’ ter leave ye in keer o’ the beautiful Blue Bell o’ the Crows for a few days. Sell watch ye.” “Ugh! Blue Bell do as pale-face say,” the hag re- plied. ‘‘ Blue Bell watch young squaw berry much.” Seizing her by the shoulder Gasket pushed the girl miner into the hut, and then handed the hag a revolver. “You just keep: every Baloo’ away until I come, and. ye shell hev gold ’til ye ar’ so dazzled thet ye ken’t see naterrally fer a week. Don’t let no_one tina ther place ner git sight o’ ther gal. D’ye ear? “Blue Bell hear berry much. She do as white man say.” ae At this moment there was a childish scream from the inside, and a grim expression came over the squaw’s face. ‘(What's that?” Cross-eyed Mike grunted, suspi- ously. ‘You've got a boy in thar, Blue Bell; tain’t no Injun brat, nuther.’ “None of pale-face’s business.” Blue Bell replied, angrily. ‘“ Nudaer pale-face leab boy.” “Phew!” and the giant gave vent to a prolonged whistle, ‘Ten to one it’s ther boy Cavendish hes got, wich b’longs ter thet Joaquin’s wife!” “Ugh! Cavendish!” Blue Bell assented, with nod, “He pay Blue Bell heap gold for keepin’ pappoose.” me He oud you thet, did he?” ™ _| opine we've chi our mind any—eh, Be ““Waal, now, just don’t ye suck thet shennanigum fer a cent’s worth, old beauty, Old Cavendish her bin imposin’ on yer conferdunce. He’s bruke— hain’t got the scent o’a copper about his togs~ bank’s closed ter wait fer resumption, ny see.”* 5 a eet mean he got no money?” the squaw de manded, wildly. “Jest that, perzactly. But, don’t git on yer ear. Tl pay fer ther brat an’ ther yal both, an’ ye jest keep oll other hoomans away frum hayr. Her’e ten gold dollars fer ye. Now, ae heer? ef any ore comes nosin’ around, Cavendish or no. Cavendish, you Plug it to’em wi’ thet revolver.” “Blue Bell not forgit if pale-face gib her drink whisky,” was the cunning reply of the squaw. Fortunately the giant never traveled without a pocket-flask, and this he now produced, and handed it to the Blue Kell of the Crows. She ped it to her thick fs a couple of times, and then handed it back empty. : The giant stared a moment; then, dropping the ‘bottle, vaulted into the saddle, and gathered up the reins to depart. “See thet ye keep good care 0’ them!” he said, pointing within the hut, ‘tan’ ye shell hey a quart o’ thet stuff w’en I come back.” Then, plunging the spurs into his animal's flanks, he dashed away over the back trail toward Cascrde Gulch, leaving Idyl a prisoner in the power of the old Indian hag. Now unburdened, the giant made the best of his animal’s speed. He was anxious, if possible 10 gct back into the diggings before the two plotters should start in search of the gold, which was cached some where in the mountains, It was now well on toward morving, and the mcon had gone nearly down, which of course increased the gloom, but the ruftian pushed recklessly on, unmind- ful of danger. Horseflesh was of little value in his eyes, compared with gold, and he was resolved to have a share of the old Hermit's treasure, should it ever be found. On, on he dashed, leaving the table-lands, and de- -| scending into the black ed Ted of the ravine. Suddenly his horse s!umbled over some object. and went crashing to the ground headforemost, hurling the giant far ahead out of the saddle, where he mee heavily upon the rocks, and lay like one ead. y He was not killed, however, only unconscious. He awoke after awhile, with a gasp of pain, bilt when he would have arisen to his feet, he made the Saas discovery that he was securely bound, hand and foot. Following this discovery, he crawled into a sitting posture, and gazed around him in bewilderment, He was lying nearly in the same spot where he had fallen, as he'was able to determine, for only a fev yards away lay his borse—dead! | Beyond this a little camp-fire had been built, any’ its blaze lighted up the darkness of the black ravine, and around it a couple of persons were pacing, in conversation the while. The giant muttered a curse as he recognized them, One was the Spotter-Sport, Rosebud Rob, while the — other was none other than the girl eccentric, Balti- more Bess. They seemed to have heard the giants expletive, for they turned toward him, and then approached. Without first.speaking, they seized him, and drag- ged him forward into the firelight. ; ‘Then they let him go, and stood im, “Well, sir ruffian,’’ Sport exclaimed, after a short — pause, ‘what have you got to say of yourself? We. are waiting for you to apr ars before we conclude the ceremonies of to-night, by hanging you up to ry. me Cuss ye!” the giant growled, his bias eyes glit- tering wolfisbly. “Let me up. Wat d’ye mean?” — “We meant hang a few moments ago. ae F gaziag down upon ; é 3

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380 Sone ““Nary one bit!’ the dare-devil assented. ‘We - two fellers hey assembled together in solemn con-, clave, an’ we do sw’ar, an’ agree, that _a notorious rough by ther appelative uv Cross-Hyed Mike, have got tergo trouting up river Jordan. Them’s ther pereise constitooshunal plans an’ specifications 0” this hyar court, you bet yer stogy boots.” “Ouss ye!” the giant breathed aga'n, vainly en- deavoring to burst the thongs that bound him. “ 7 tell ye ter set me at liberty, or some ’un “ll git hurt, now, purty quick, I don’t want no more monkey- mockin’, nuther.”’ “Ha! ha! that’s the ticket we vote, too! Rosebud Rob replied. ‘“ We want you to dish out your best, ae peor the twitch of a mule’s ear, or up you go to ory? “What d’ye want, then?” *““You know that, without asking) We want to know where you took Idyl Abbey, the girl miner!’ “Go find out—l'll not tell ye!” the giant replied, with an evil grin. ‘‘She’s whir you’d nevyer find her, ef ye war ter s’arch a thousan’ years.” Rosebud Rob and Baltimore Bess both seemed to agree that this was merely a parry, by an exchange of glances. ‘“You need not try that game,” the Sport said. “We ain’t dealing in that kind of stock, You've got to either tell us where the girl is, or swing, and that in mighty short order, too. I won't tolerate trifling, in the least.” a “Oh! ye won’t, won't ye?” the giant sneered, sav- agely. “Wal, ye kin jest go ahead an’ stretch my neck as much as ye please, for I won’t scare inter tellin’ wu’th a whale.” “Then hang you shall, and we'll find the captive afterward. Bess, gal, fetch the halter.’’ The giri dare-devil nodded, and advancing into the - gloom of the ravine, where their horses were con- eet ske procured a long, stout lariat, and re- ured, 5 With a coolness befitting one of twice her years, Baltimore made a noose with one end of the lariat, and auEee it over the giant’s head, shirring it snugly about bis throat. “Thar, neow ’ she said, with a chuckle. ‘ How’s thet fit yer notion fer a Piccadilly collar? Fit’s yer - thrut rother better then it do yer notion, eh?” “ Bess, you are incorrigible,” the Sport said, with a smile. Then, turning to the giant, he said: “Come! If you have any desire to live tell me parte to find the girl, within five minutes, or you ta 8 K ‘ Will ye set me at liberty, ef I tell ye?” the ruffian demanded, z “Not at present!” the Sport replied. ‘*You can not catch me with chaff, you'll find. I shall require aaa to accompany me to where you have concealed he girl—ay, pirhaps further. Do you_know the ‘Jocation of the treasure-cache of the old Hermit?” “Mary a know. Wish I did.” _“ Well, will you tell me, or rather guide me to the place where Idyl is concealed?” “No, I'll be hanged furst.” The giant was evidently determined to die, rather than to yield the secret. Rosebud Rob saw this, and was at aloss how to : act, and so called the girl dare-devil to one side. The ruffian is obstinate, even in the face of death,” he said, ina low tone, which he intended should not reach the giant. ‘‘lam puzzled whether to lynch the devil, or let him go, or take him with us. ' ‘‘Lynch him!’ Bess said, sententiously. ‘Just uv him another show, an’ ef he don’t snatch it, _ why, simply—lynch him! Let me pull ther rope, ef ye're skittish about it.” “* Which I am not,” Rob answered. They returned to the ruffian, and seizing the lari- at, dragged him to a place where a single tree grew _ in the canyon, shooting out a few naked branches, asif in preparation for just such occasions. _ ol egot =: - Gora oe Idyl, the Girl Miner. “Your time is up!’ the Sport said, as Bess tossed the end of a lariat over a limb, and then seized it again. “I ask once more, will you tell me where Idyl Abbey is, or will you die?” “Let her slide!” the giant said. ‘‘I’ll see all the mysteries o’ Inferno afore I'll tell—” ‘ime was not given him for saying more, for Bess gave a ‘‘reef’’ on the lariat, and the combined strength of herseit and the Sport was sufficient to draw the giant into mid-air. ; The lariat was then fastened, and hurrying to their horses, the two regulators dashed away. CHAPTER Xi. CONCLUSION—“‘ WHAT SHAT. THE HARVEST BE?’ Wer will now return to the treasure-hunters, whom we left in front of a black entrauce which led into the bowels of the mountains. “This is the place,” Joaquin’s wife said, peering ahead into the blackness. “In here the old Hermit conceals his.gold. “Tis a catacomb of caves, and we must go slow and sure. Each man light his lan- tern, and prepare to follow me.” ‘The order was at once obeyed. : Berenice leading, they entered the grotto, At first it was low and narrow, but the further they advanced it widened like a funnel, and com tinned in this manner for several hundred yards. Then they suddenly found themselves in a mam. moth cavern where their lights were useless, for plenty of this commodity streamed down through a@ large hole in the dome above. This light told them that morning had dawned upon the mountain peaks in the outer world. The inside of this inter-mountain chamber was a wonder in its natural beauty. It seemed as though the hand of man had been the architect. The floor was nearly as smooth as a pane of glass, and must ee embraced several acres, from one side to the other. Commencing at the right hand a natural corridor wound up the rugged sides of the cavern, making three tiers of galleries, and reminding the spectator of a Roman amphitheater, The three treasure-bunters, headed b; wife, paused to gaze upon the awe-insp! before advancing further. “This is magnificent!” the Englishman muttered, admiringly. ‘‘I don’t think T ever saw its equal.” “Arrah!” wat a mighty foine place it would be for roller-skatin’, indade, ontirely!” assured Mrs. C., enthusiastic in her admiration, “'There’s no time for talk!” Berenice inte: ““We must search for the treasure, although we are too late!” “How too late?” Davere demanded, savagely. “Explain yourself.” “Hasily done. I fear that the Hermit has already - secured his treasure, and taken his departure,” ‘But he did not pass us as we entered?” “No; if he has escaped at all it is by another way, There is another passage leading out of this cham- ber, similar to that by which we entered, and he has probably gone that way. We will first search the cache to make sure.” She led the way out into the center of the glassy surface, closely followed by Devere and his lordship and his wife. Pausing in the center, as nearly as she could guess, she glanced sharply around, and soon knelt beside & crevic? in the surface, the shape of a square. Drawing a knife she set to work, and pried up a block of rock, and hurriedly pushed it aside, Then, by the aid of a strap, she lowered her lantern into a sort of pit below, following it with her piercing gaze, A ery burst from her lips, and she drew back in- voluntarily. ; = is gone! The old man has been here!” she said. : & 4& i ee curse burst from the lips of Cavendish, and, springing upon the woman, he dragged her Joaquin's ng scene, osed.. fear be 1 eS ecg

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Idyl, the Girl Miner. back upon the floor, and placing his foot upon her breast, drew a revolver. “«The fiends take you!”’ he hissed, fiercely, and be- fore either Devere or the Irishwoman could prevent, he took deliberate aim and fired, twice in succession, Poor Berenice gave but a single answering groan, then her spirit fled; she was dead. > “In the name of Heaven, why did you do this?” Devere cried, aghast. “‘You have not only done murder, but you have forever killed our chances for getting possession of the Hermit’s gold.” “Bah! ’tis easy to track the ould divil now,” cried Mrs, C., excitedly. 2 “Of course,” agreed the Englishman, ‘I intend- ed to kill the woman all the time in order to retain ossession of the boy, which must yet fetch me a andsome suns, Ha! look there!” He pointed to one of the upper corridors, where, on looking, all beheld the head and shoulders of Old Elk, the Hermit, suddenly draw out of sight, ; The old man was hiding in the corridor from his enemies, and had been making observations of the scene below, when some unlucky chance caused Cavendish to gaze upward in that direction. 2 “ By Heaven! ’tis the Hermit,’’ Devere cried, jubi- jantly. ‘Hurrah! let’s roust him out of that! The golden treasure is now ours.” ‘ And yelling like somany savages the two men ran to the foot of the natural ascent, and began climbing upward into the galleries. ; rs. C. did not follow them, but turned and re- treated into the funnelentrance, Eagerly on and upward the two villains clambered, their eagerness encouraging them to ext Sagi exertion. Puffing and panting they kept on until but afew yards intervened between them and the ald Hermit, who stood in front of a large leather sack which lay upon the floor, : Y one of his stoutoaken crutches upraised, evidently determined to fight to the last. ‘*Surrender!’’ Cavendish cried triumphantly, cock- ing one of his revolvers, while Devere imitated his example. “Surrender! It's no use to resist, We're two to one, and either you give up, or you die!” ‘Them ’'s our terms!” Devere put in, with a mali- cious iaugh. ‘Pony up the wealth in that bag, be- hind you, or you’re a dead men!” “Keep eff, you human fiends—keep off, or T will brain you!” the Hermit cried, in hoarse tones. “ You shall not have the gold; I will die in defense of it a hundred times first!” 4 F Alas! it was useless, however, for him to resist, Both men fired at the same time, and with a groan, he fell to the ground, blood spurting from his wounds, Then the human wolves rushed forward, and while Cavendish-seized the bag, Devere grasped the dying Hermit by the heels, and both were dragged down upon the floor of the cabin from the galleries above. ere they ae a moment, to gain breath before examining the treasure, which was heavy enough for several fortunes, “ Where’s the Irishwoman?”’ Devere demanded, suddenly noting her disappearance... ‘‘ She must die next, and then our trail isclear. Rosebud Rob dead; Joaquin’s wife dead; the Hermit and the Irisher ditto, and we have triumphed !”” “Curse the woman! Let’s first look in the bag!’” Qavendish growled. 5 And with eager hands, he cut the tie-string, and ulled the mouth of the bag open! f “Then through the cavern sprung a how! of disap- pointment, coming simultaneously from both men, The bagwas filled merely with fine gravel, which would not have assayed an ounce of gold! : “We have been duped—cheated!” Byron Caven- dish breathed, with a curse. ‘The old Hermit has secreted his gold, and filled this bag, to bafile us. nick! before it is too late, we will have the secret com “im, if we have to tear out his heart.” THE The old man stood with ; 3i ‘ “Too late, there, even!” Devere replied, hoarsely as he arose from the Hermit’s side. ‘‘ The old man is dead!” The baronet seemed transformed into a living fury, so frightful were his rage and aay pointment, “Weare foiled all around, and the gold is lost!” Devere said. ‘*‘ We haye no choice but—” “To submit to arrest !’’ cried a cool voice. “Tn the name_of the law, we arrest you both for the murder of Olk Elk, the Hermit, and numerous other citizens!” } Anda scarcely before the two villains were aware Ms wa they were securely handcuffed and confronted Me osebud Rob, Baltimore Bess and the lord’s wife, who preceeded at once to doff her disguise, and there stood before them in person Mr. George Pearsons, a noted Eastern detective, who, in con- junction with Rosebud Rob, had been oe for this very hour to arrive, when Fe could effect their arrest. Pearsons also had shadowed the young baronet westward from New York, under the im- ression that he was an escaped criminal from Sing ings but he had been convinced of his mistake. . The Hermit and Berenice Muriete were buried in the cavern; then, with the two prisoners, the trio of detectives set out on their return to Cascade City. On their way they came unexpectedly upon Sir Tom Somerset, leading his horse along through the mountains, and in the saddle was seated Idyl, whom the plucky Britisher had found and rescued, as well as hittle Pet, Joaquin’s child. Tdyl was not told of her father’s death until sha arrived in Cascade City, and it was lucky, for the shock and what she had endured totally unnerved her, and she lay for weeks upon a sick-bed. Sir Tom was head nurse, however, and much was owing to him that she ever 1ecoyered. In the mean time, the two criminals received a miner’s trial, and, upon being proven guilty, were lynched without delay. Idyl finally recovered, and one day asked for pe la Rob. Upon his appearance before her, she said: ‘Mr, Mapleton, I have had a strange dream con- cerning my poor father’s buried treasure: that you knew where it was concealed. ITs this so?” af Hs even so, Miss Abbey Tand Pearsons found out where the gold was by trailing your father by stealth to the spot, and when he had gone, we en- tered the cavern, found the gold, and reburied it — in another place for safety, substituting a bag of gravelin place of it, It will give us great pleasure now to place in your hands afortune. f will go for it to-day.” ~ He kept his word, and set. out for the cavern at one pon arriving there, another surprise greet- ed him, Upon the grave of Berenice Muriete a form was lying, cold and silent. i Tt was Joaquin, Jr. “Poor fellow!” the Sport muttered. ‘‘ He has not long outlived his wife, whom I believe he loved sin- cerely. I will leave him as he has Jaid himself. The boy still lives, and I hold the map to the secret mine, which, I take it. is beneath the falls. Heigh-ho! I wonder ‘what shall the harvest be?’ ” Securing the treasure, be returned to Cascade City and delivered it to Idyl, + Enovgh wealth was there to keep the girl miner weighing for a week; and, it is said, she and SirTom (for they are soon to be married) will be independ- © ently rich, Little Pet is to live with them, The Spotter-Sport is still in Cascade City, as is ~ Baltimore Bess. Pearsons has come East. ‘ Of the Sport and Dare-devil Bess, we do not mear to lose sight, £0 END.

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}| . Assued Quarterly, June, 1886. Subscription, 50 Cents per Year. YS s6 NASSAU STREET, N.y. & si vis Na ’ oH = Entered at the Post Office, Y. N., as second class matter, o—< Mis Lg Suk hs . Se Rake 2 2 Bor! SUP ER Aad OE eee oe nis BEST AUTHORS. A CHOICE COLLECTION OF Beautiful Compositions | Carefully Compiled for SCHOOL, LYCEUM, PARLOR, AND OTHER ENTERTAINMENTS, — By — FRANCES P. SULLIVAN. M. J. IVERS & CO, PUBLISHERS,

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SMART TOASTS FOR THE SMART SBT. Vest Pocket Size. 64 Pages. Sewed Book. Up-to-Date. : By Mail, Postpaid, 1l2c. per Copy. BEST LINE OF HAND BOOKS PUBLISHED. 7 Wild Bill, “YIDDISH” YARNS.—A Collection of Hebrew Jokes, Stories, etc. GENTS’ LETTER WRITER.—A Perfect Guide to all kinds of Correspondence. FAMILY PHYSICIAN.—Family Diseases and Their ‘Treatment; Rules of Health, ete. BOOK OF DREAMS.—Their Romance and Mystery, with a Complete Interpretation Dictionary. HOUSEWIFE'S MANUAL.—How to Keep House; How to Dye, Cleanse, etc. : VAUDEVILLE JOKER.—Best Jokes by Eminent Vau- deville Artists. BOOK OF ETIQUETTE.—Society, Visits, Introduc- tions, Dress, Balls, etc. FORTUNE TELLER.—Fortune Telling by;Cards, Tea or Coffee Grounds, Eggs; Palmistry, ete. BOOK OF 100 GAMES.—One Hundred Games for Social Parties and Home Amusements, COOK BOOK.-—Economical, Practical, Excellent. LADIES’ LETTER WRITER.—How to Write; {When to Write; What to Write. RECIPE BOOK.—For the Parlor, Nursery, Sick-room, Toi.et, Kitchen, Larder, ete BOOK OF BEAUTY.—Beauty of Form, Color, Head, Hair, Complexion, Skin, ete., with chapters on Perfumes, Cosmeties, ete. BOOK OF VERSES.—Comprising Rhymes, Lines, and . Mottoes for Lovers and Friends. THE LOVERS’ CASKET.—A Treatise on and Guide to Friendship, Love, Courtship, and Marriage. “GERMAN” JOKER.—* Dutch” Jokes and “Gags” by best ‘“* Dutch’ Teams on the Stage. “HAYSEED” JOKER.—The Doings of ‘Our Country Cousins” in a Humorous Way. “TRAMP” JOKER.—Good “Handouts” in this Book for Professional and Amateur Entertainers. * COON” YARNS.—Best Jokes Relating to Our *t Dark- er-Skinned Brothers.” “TRISH” Joker No. 1.—The Wittiness and Whimsicali- ties of *‘ Pat” at His Best. “ VARIETY * JOKER.—Good Things from all the Na- tionalities: ** Pat,’ **Alphonse,” ** Hans,” “t Jona- than,” *‘ Moses,” and ** Ebenezer.”’ The above books are bound in hazdsomely illustrated lithographed covers, Price by mail, postpaid, 12 cents per copy. 7 M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, 379 Pearl Street, New York City. + BEADLE’S BOYS’ PRICE 1 Dandy Bills Doom. By Oll Coomes. 83 Kit Carson. By A. W. Aiken. 4 Willie, the Reckless Rider. By Stoddard. 5 Old Grizzly in the Rockies. By Ingraham, 6 Deadwood Dick asa Boy. By E. L. Wheeler, By Ingraham. 8 The Prairie Ranch. ly J. E. Badger. ¥ phen oh ae uf seen ‘Texas Jack. By Ingraham. 11 Charley Skylark, the Sport. By H. B. Stoddard. 12 Brimstone Bill's Booty. By J. E. Badger, Jr. a 13 Roving Ben, By J. J. Marshall. 14 The Ticket-of-Leave’s Trick. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 15 Wide-Awake George. By B. Willett. 16 Wide-Awake Ned. By B. Ringgold. 17 Peter, the Dandy Greenhorn. By Noah Nuff. 18 Adrift on the Prairie. By Oll Coomes. 19 Joe, the Rover Sport. By A. H. Post. » 20 Giant Pete and his Pards. _ By Harbaugh. 21 Yellow Hair. By Ingraham. 22 The Snow-Trail. By Harbaugh. 283 Old Grizzly Adams. By Dr. Powell, 24 Woods and Waters. By Whittaker. 25 A Rolling Stone. By W. R. Eyster. 26 Red River Rovers. By C. D. Clark. 27 Buekskin Sam's Wild Ride. By Ingraham. 8 The Sword Prince, By F. Whittaker. 25 Snow-Shoe Tom. By T. C. Harbaugh. 30 Paul De Lacy. By C. D. Clark. 831 Round the Camp-Fire. By J. E. Badger, Jr. % Fancy Frank's Drop. By Ingraham. 33 The Boy Crusader. By Capt. F. Whittaker. t LIBRARY. 5 CENTS PER COPY. . 34 The Chase of the Great White Stag. By ©. D. Clerk, 35 Old ‘ar Knuckle. By Rover Starbuck. 36 The Dashing Dragoon. By F. Whittaker. 87 Night-Hawk George. By Ingraham. 38 The Boy Exiles of Siberiay By T. C. Harbaugh. 39 The Young Bear Hunters. By Morris Redwing. 40 New York Bill, the Dodger. By Edward Willett. 41 The Setiler’s Son. By Edward §. Ellis. 42 Walt Ferguson’s Cruise. By C. D. Clark, 43 Rifle and Revolver. By F. Whittaker. 44 The Lost Boy Whalers. By ‘Il’. C. Harbaugt. 45 Bronco Billy. By Ingraham. 46 Dick, the Stowaway. By Charles Morris. 47 The Colorado Boys. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 48 The Pampas Hunters. By T. C. Harbaugh. 49 Nebraska Charlie. By Ingraham. — 50 Jack, Harry, and Tom. By F. Whittaker, 51 ‘Tom Stone, the Old Sea Dog. By C. D. Clark, 52 The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Harbaugh. 53 Harry, the Country Boy, in New York. By Charles Morris. 54 California Joe. By Ingraham, —- 55 Tip ‘Tressel, the Flatboat Boy. By Edward Willett. 56 The Snow Hunters. By Harry De Forrest. 57 Harry Somers, the Magician. By S. W. Pearce. 58 Captain Jack in Rocky Roost. By Ingraham. 59 ‘Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines. By Charles Morris, 60 The Young Trail Hunters. By ‘T. C. Harbaugh. 61 The Tiger Hunters. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 2 Doctor Carver, the Champion Shot. By Ingraham. 63 Black Horse Bill, the Bandit Wrecker. By Roger Starbuck. 64 Young Dick Talbot. By A, W. Aiken.

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THE Deadwood Dick e Library e LATEST AND BEST. HANDSOME TRI-GOLORED COVERS. 32 Pages. Issued Every Wednesday. - Price 5 Cents. Buy One and You Will Buy the Resi @xtracts from the New York Evening Sun. TWO REMARKABLE HEROES, 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 atrikes home, But it is most essentially a half dime novel statement shat will be news to many when it is added that litera- ture, if traced from the dimly distant days when Adam was a mere child down to the present day, would show gut few heroes that in the eyes of boyhood would be sven judged worthy of comparison with the two greatest @eroes known to American literature, or, to promptly re- veal them, Deadwood Dick and Deadwoud 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 away the palm of popularity, andsuchas * * * be left tar ehind in the race. «6 Can be easily believed, therefore, that the two Dicks @ so firmly engrafted on the tree of popular literature x boys and young men, that their position is assured * * amd that they stand to-day head and shoulders 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 im 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 appears with the certainty of the Wednesday itself, and a new set of selenetat thrills go thrilling away from Maine to Call ornia, There are the volumes each so crowded with thrills and heart-tugs that it were madness to hope to do justice te 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 Evening Sun’s readers te 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 Prince of the Road The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick's Deflanece 8 The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures 4 Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol $ Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval $ Death-Face, the Detective ? Tke Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonan § Oid Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, W! Edna, the Girl Brigand 9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian \@ Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger id his ert Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to eat 2 Beavegee Dick’s Hagles; or, The Pards of Flood ar 48 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team i4 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter 1% Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane i8 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo wy mace Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the 9 Gule i8 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand 19 Photograph Phil: or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance 30 Watch-Eye, the Shadow nN peem eos Dick’s Device; or, The Sign of the Double ross # Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief % Deadwesod Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty ™ Deadwood Dick as Detective 3% Gilt-Wdge Dick %6 Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker; or, The Secret Twelve W% Chip, the Girl Sport 86 Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune % Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks wo Deere Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s ulc $1 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base ® Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent 33 Tony Fox, the Ferret; or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job 34 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike 35 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 36 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 44 gveney Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiater'’s ame 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Schemo 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 Detect ‘yes 51 bgt 2 sedis Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rough anch 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 Buckskin 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’e 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 ee Bete vet Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa- ras City ‘ 64 beetle Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle ings M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers (James Sullivan, Proprietor), 879 Pearl Street, NEW YORK.

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Copyr ght 1879-1535, by Beadle & Adams, Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as second class matter. Mar. 15, 1899 No. 18 THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO. Vol II Cleveland, Ohio “Ready. ents?” cried Simmonds, briskly. ‘‘ One, two, three! The word had scarcely passed his lips, afe the knives le t the hands of the duelists and went whizzing ominously throug the air, -

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¢$— BEADLE’S FRONTIER SERIES {5c. Per Copy. 1. The Shawnee’s Foe. 50. Harry Hardskull. 2. The Young Mountaineer. 51. Madman of the Oconto. 3. Wild Jim. 52. Slim Jim. 4, Hawk-Eye, the Hunter. 53. Diger-Eye. ” 5, The Boy Guide. . 54. Phe Med Star of the 6. War Tiger of the Modocs } Seminoles. 7. The Red Modocs. 55. Trapper Joe. ’ 8. Iron Hand. 56. The Indian Queen's * 9, Shadow Bill, the Scout. Revenge. 10. Wapawkaneta, or the 57. Eagie-Eyed Zeke. Rangers of the Oneida. 58. Sear-Cheek, the Wild 11. Davy Crockett’s Boy Half-Breed. Hunter, 59, Red Men of the Woods. 12. The Forest Avenger. 60. Tusealoosa Sam. 13. Old Jack’s Frontier 61. The Bully of the Woods. Cabin. 62. The Trapper’s Bride. *3 14. On the Deep. 63. Red Rattlesmake, The 15. Sharp Snout. : Pawnee. : 16. The Mountain Demon. 64, The Scout of Tippecanoe ; 17. Wild Tom of Wyoming. 65. Old Kit, The Scout. 18. The Brave Boy Hunters 66. The Boy Scouts. ‘ of Kentucky. 67. Hiding Tom. 19. The Fearless Ranger. 68. Roving Dick, Hunter. 20. The Haunted Trapper. 69. Hickory Jack. 21. Madman of the Colorado. 10. Mad Mike. 22. The Panther Demon. 71, Snake-Eye. . Big-Hearted Joe. x 3. The Blazing Arrow. ; 4. The Hunter Scouts. 5. The Seout of Long Island. . Turkey-Foot. 8 bol b 23. Slashaway, the Fearless. | 24, Pine Tree Jack, if 25. Indian Jim. é 26. Navajo Nick. 7 27. The Tuscarora’s Vow. a 28. Derdwood Dick, Jr. ; 29. A New York Boy Among 7 . The Death Rangers. . Bullet Head. , The Indian Spirit. the Indians, on. 5 7; Et 80. Deadwood Dick's mig $0: The Aula Bnawnerss Degen the Gat 82, Grim_Diek. e Tee ta Saabs beh 83. The Wooden-Legged Spy. a 82. Dendwood Dick’s Dozen. 4° the Silent Trapper. 33. Squatty Dick. 85. Ugly Ike. 34, The Hunter’s Secret. 86. Fire Cloud. : 35. The Woman Trapper. 87. Hank Jasper. Be 36. The Chief of the Miami. 88, The Scout of the Sclota. ? 37. Gunpowder Jim. 89. Black Samson. 38. Mad Anthony’s Captain. 90, Billy Bowlegs. 89. The Ranger Boy’s Career, 91, The Bloody Footprint. 40. Old Nick of the Swamp. 92, Marksman the Hunter. 41. The Shadow Scout. 93, The Demon Cruiser. 42. Lantern-Jawed Bob. 94, Hunters and Redskins. 43. The Masked Hunter. 95, Panther Jack. 44, Brimstone Jake. 96. Old Zeke. 45, The Trish Hunter. 97. The Panther Paleface. 46. Dave Bunker. 98. The Scout of the St. Lawrence, 47, The Shawnee Witch, 99. Bloody Brook. 48. Big Brave. 100. Long Bob of Kentucky. if 49. Spider-Legs. BEADLE’S FRONTIER SERIES are always in print and for gale by all Newsdealers; or will be sent postpaid to any address: Single copies, 15c. ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO. CLEVELAND, OHIO ||

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THE Deadwood Dick? e Library @ LATEST AND BEST.¢ d HANDSOME TRI-GOLORED COVERS. 82 Pages. Bay One and You Will Buy the Rest! For Sample Cover See Other Bide. DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road % The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Deflance 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 tincmens Ol, abe Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick in Dang 11 Jim Blndsoe, J Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to ft 12 2g alge Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood 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 sae ae Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the 18 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand 19 Photograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance 20 Watch-Eye, the Shadow 21 rong Dick's Device; or, The Sign of the Double ross 22 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief 283 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty % 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 Peer 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 ae 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 38 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo ‘ 39 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 tesa Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator's Gam 45 The Fre ontiee Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme 3 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 ro the Detective 50 ete Sam's Double; or, The Three Female Detect — 51 sierra ee 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 4 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 87 Deadwood Dick Trapped 58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The teehee Bo! Fortune 589 Deadwood Dick’s pace sor, Wild Walt, the oe 60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner — 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission A 2 A otter Fritz; or, The Store-Detective’s Deco’ i Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sa 64 Colorado Tnanlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle ings