Deadwood Dick Library (v. 4) (1900 02 07)

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Yopyright 1882-1888, by Beadle & Adams. Entvred at Post Office. New York, N. Y.,a cond class matter, Mar. 15, 1899. M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers. Issued Weekly. inn aeea ttt tig Ses tvathen Price 5 Cents. No. 48, 7] (James Sullivan, Proprietor,) 32.50 a enn Vol, lV, Feb. 7, 1900. 379 Pearl street, New York.

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EDWARD L. DEADWOOD DICK, JR. NOVELS WHEELER'S IN THE HALF-DIME LIBRARY. : Price 5 Cents per Copy. : 443 Deadwood Dick, Jr.; or, The Crimson Crescent Sign. 448 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s, Defiance. 4538 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Full Hand. 459 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Big Round-Up. 465 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Racket at Claim 10, 471 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Corral. 476 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Dog Detective. 481 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Deadwood. 491 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Compact. 496 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Inheritance. 500 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Diggings. 508 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Deliverance. 515 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Protege. 522 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Three. 529 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Danger Ducks. 534 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death Hunt. 5389 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Texas. 544 Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidocq. 549 Deadwood Dick, Jr , on His Mettle. 554 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., in Beelzebub’s Basin. 6)0 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., Among the Smug- lers. 660 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Insurance Case. 666 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Back in the Mines. 672 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Durango. 678 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, 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. %04 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Jack-Pot. + 710 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at San Francisco. 716 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Still Hunt. 722 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dominoes. 728 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Disguise. 734 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Double Deal. 740 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death-Watch. 747 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Doublet. 752 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death-Blow. "58 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Desperate Strait. 764 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Lone Hand. 770 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Defeat. 776 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Resurrection. 782 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dark Days. 787 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Defied. 792 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Double Device. 797 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Desperate Venture. 802 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Diamond Dice. 807 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Royal Flush. 812 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Head-Off. 816 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Rival. 822 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Boom. 828 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Scoop, 834 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Proxy. 840 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Clutch. 845 Deadwood Dick, Jr,’s, High Horse. 852 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Devil’s Gulch. 858 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death-Hole Hustle. 863 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Bombshell. a 870 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Mexico. 876 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Decoy Duck. 882 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Siiver Pocket. 891 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dead-Sure Game. 898 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Double Drive. 904 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’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. 940 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Shake-Up. 946 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Double Drop. 951 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Right Bower. 957 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Ten-Strike. 965 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Gold Dust. 971 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Oath. 977 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death-Doom. 980 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Best Card. 992 Deadwood Dick, Jr,, at Gold Dust. 4 998 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Big Play. 1005 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Branded. 1011 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dutch Pard. 1018 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Big Four, For sale by all newsdealers or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, 5c. per copy, by the publish- ers, M. J. IVERS & CO., 379 Peart Street, New York Crry.

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De iN am, BREN IENES iY Aopyright 1882-1888, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., a8 second class matter. Mar. 15, 180% +—_—_—— — — = a —_ ———— - M. J. IVERS 4 0., Publishers, 2 No. 48, bs ne Hib Sond (James Sullivan, Proprietor,) By 4 5 Cents, Vol lV ‘eb. 7, 1900. 379 Pearl Street, New York. $2.50 a Year. f . ——— ===> =< <== ————S— = = ae : rt arny 4

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} 7 ea ae j Fé. \ and singing to them. in Dick Drew, THE MINER’S SON: OR, Apollo Bill, the Road-Agent. A Story of the Mines. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF THY ‘‘DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, “YREKA JIM,” ‘DENVER DOLL,” “ SIERRA SAM,” ETO,, ETC, CHAPTER f. THE WORK OF A WOLF. : Ir was a cosey little home, even though in mid- prairie, ait You have, perhaps, read of an oasis in the desert, It was not a desert that surrounded this cosey little home, for broad and fertile prai- viss stretched away toward the setting sun, while a range of rugged hills loomed up to the eastward, There was a snug little frame farm house, painted white, and set down with a fringe of elm-trees; there were barns, and other out- buildings to match; in ffont of the house beau- tiful beds of flowers were in full bloom, while acres of nodding corn and grain were to be seen, not far away, with other large tracts of ground _ in the Maer td where sheep, cattle and horses were peacefully grazing. It was a cosey little home indeeil, and every- thing about the place seemed to argue that the greatest peace and harmony existed between those who dwelt there, while thrift and industry were visible at every point. It is a bright sunny morning in the latter part of May when we look down upon this home. The sun had just risen above tho eastern hori- zon, and webs of dew yet hung upon the grass. Birds were making song in the elms, the low of cows upon the prairie came in on the morning breeze. In the rear porch of the dwelling, overlooking the fields of grain, stood a woman, busied at churning with one of the old-fashioned dash churns. She was young and tidily dressed, and not handsome, as critics would declare, yet in her modest demeanor—in the soft quiet of her brown eyes, and the pleasant expression upon her,round face, there was much to interest and attract. In the doorway of the porch were playing two little girls, each holding home-made doll-babies Two children more alike in every respect it would have been hard to find. There was no particular difference in their size; - each had sunny flaxen hair, blue eyes, and were very much alike in countenancs; in fact, seen wo different places, they would have been pronounced one and the same, Their attire was exactly alike, too, and both seemed blessed with’ @ sunny nature. Yot, strange as it might seem, these little ones bore no relation to each other whatever. Just within the porch, near the industrious Dick Drew, the Miner's Son. > -rrrreoo ET woman at the churn, sat an aged lady in a comfortable easy rocker, engaged at knitting, while she fondly gazed at the little seven-year- olds, She was a motherly-looking woman, whose face bore but few of the marks of time, but whose hair was white with the frosts of ad- vanced years, ‘“‘The dear little angels, Mary,” she said, | turning to the maiden at the churn—‘ how well I can remember when I was_-a little girl, even though it was, so many years ago. No news from Bill yet, Mary?” ‘*None, Mrs, Blake. I saw Tom Tabor a little while ago, on his way home from the Post, but he did not know anything how the contest came out. The votes were not all counted when he came away.” ‘* Well, that is some consolation, at least. I am so afraid my dear, brave boy will get into trouble. I can well wish he had never run for sheriff, although I doubt not he will make a ‘ood one.” ; ‘*OF course he will! Master Bill is very pop- ular all over the county, except with those of the ruffianly sort, and they’re not of much ac- count.” ‘But very powerful, ‘They bave had pretty much their own way since Owl-Eye has been sheriff, and I suppose will stick by him, while they will be very ugly toward Bill, I am afraid.” “Don’t worry on that score, aunty. Your son is brave enough to face the lot of them single-handed, and they know it,” **Yes! yes! William is a good, brave boy, and I have great confidence in him. Poor fellow! marrie1 so young and had to part with his wife inside of one year. It would have drivea most young men reckless, Do you know, Mary, I do not believe my son will ever marry again?” “Perhaps not,” said Mary, turning her face toward the glowing sun, to hide an expression something akin to regret. ‘I suppose he is quite happy with you and his child.” “Yes. and do you know I believe he loves Lord Clifford's child nearly the same as ‘his own??? “It would seem so to the observer, but the father affection goes to little Nell,” Mary re- sponded. At this juncture Mary was called to attend to some household duty, and the conversation drop: for the time being. “‘T fancy Mary has different hopes about my son’s marrying again,” Mrs. Blake mused to herself. ‘*Well, Mary is a good, honest girl, has been a_mother to the children since she came, and I don’t know as William could do any better, were he inclined to again choose a partner for life. But laws! I don’t believe he will ever marry in.” And Mary did have different ideas. A poor farmer’s daughter though she was, she had a true and-tender heart, and if she admired brave Bill Blake, and aspired to some day become his wife, it was one of her own secrets, ; She went down to the clear, cool spring at the roots of one of the elms awhile later, for a pail of water, and while there took a photograph from her bosom. It was that of a bandsome. manly face of % as ¥

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. 3 person of some five and twenty years—a clear- cut Anglo-Saxon face, expressing courage, firm- ness, and power to love or hate. The head was set off with a broad-rim slouch het, tipped gracefully back; the hair was worn loag, down upon the shoulders. He sported a graceful mustache, curling at the ends; a nar- row goatee ornamented his chin; his hunting- shirt, open at the throat, was of buckskin; and taken all in all, one would travel many a mile in the Wild West before encountering a finer specimen of hardy, sturdy manhood. And Mary Monk gazed upon the picture with eyes 2 eect | with pride and enthusiasm. “He gave it to me,” she murmured, “and told ime always to keep it as a keepsake from him. If he did not have some little care for me, why did he give it, and why is he always so kind and considerate to me? Ah! perhaps it is because I care for his children.” Afternoon came, but with it came not William Blake home from the Post, where he had gone the previous day to election—-he being run on one party ticket, against one Owl-Eye, alias Ben Boghart, a notorious rough, who had had one term of the office. Mother Blake sat in her old cushioned chair, and rocked impatiently to and fro, for she was greatly worried over her son’s non-return, ““T wouldn’t worry, aunty,” Mary said, by way of comforting, although she bad some mis- givings herself. ‘ Probably Mr, Bill has been detained on account of . business connected with the election, and will be home by dark,” But night drew on apace, and Bill Blake did (ot return, . : “Where is my papa, grandma?” little Nell ‘negan to ask, while little Maude seemed equally _ concerned. ** Alas! Ido not know, child,” Mother Blake had to answer. ‘‘I feel as if some evil had be- fallen him.” _ “T will go for the cows myself, and tell the herd-boys fo ‘tend to the other chores,” Mary said, ‘‘and if Mr, Blake has not returned by that time, I will ride over to the Post, and see what is the cause of his delay.” “Bless you, child—I wish you would.” And so Mary set bravely out upon the prairie toward the grazing-fields to tell the herdsmen what to do, at the same time carrying one of.the little flaxen-haired girls with her. “Tt will be dark before I can get back, I fear,” she mused, ‘‘ but then, I ought not to be “afraid of the dark. A woman can afford to do much for those she loves. But I do wonder what has become of Mr. Bill? It looks as if something was amiss—his not returning. Oh, I hope no ill has befallen him!” Mary had not been gone over an hour, and ‘night was settling her somber mantle over hill and dale, when a band of horsemen dashed down from the eastern mountains, and drew rein in a gully, or arroyo, in the prairie, not over a thousand yards from the Blake homestead. They were a rough-looking gang, mostly past tue middle age,and of the class familiarly ’ denominated as ‘* toughs” on the frontier. They were, for the main part, men whom some cir- eumstance had made reckless and unruly, and in whose soured, imbittered natures there was little that was good. _ ; All were armed with belt weapons and rifles and were dressed in the commonest and dirties kind of garments. As soon as they came to a halt, one of the crowd, with extremely large eyes, and who appeared as though he might have once seen better days, rose in his stirrups, and looked his companions over. ‘* Boyees,” he said, in a voice deep and hoarse ~~ in its intonation—‘‘ boyees, I. reckon you all know sumthin’ why I ordered ye here.” There was a general shaking of heads in ths negative, vident it was that these border roughs had followed the large-eyed man thither, without. understanding what was to happen. ‘* Waal,” continued the speaker, ‘I wull tell e. Yeall know what happened yesterday, ne ©’ the best sheriffs this county has ever known—being myself—was, at yestérday’s elec- tion, defeated in_ favor of a young brageart and swell-head, Bill Blake by name. Ye all know what‘sort of a devil this Blake is—ye know he hain’t got no more respect for us fellers than he has for a coyote, an’ would jest as lief shute us as he would a coyote. Anuther thing, Topine ye’ve all kind of an ijeer thet et warn’t ‘on -fair count that he was rung in fer the office.” A murmur of assent broke from the listeners. This man Owl-Eye wasa man after their own pattern, and they were not unmindful of the fact that, during his administration, he had protected them rather than arrested them for various crimes. And Bill Blake was not the lad to do that; quite the contrary; so they gave another unani- mous grunt expressiye of the sympathy with Owl Bye. ‘Yes, I see you're with me,” the defeated can- didate went on; ‘‘an’ I opine ye war all present at the Post yesterday when I called Blake a liar an’ he mopped up all ther mud in the street wi’ me, arter which I swore ter hev vengeance, That’s jest what brings me heer now. Over yander is the hum o’ Blake an’ his family, har’s no one thar now but two women an’ a couple 0’ kids. My et cd around heer to- night is to make that place luk so sick that our new sheriff won’t know et when he comes home. Ef you’re with me ye can bet yer services be appreciated!” Later that evening, by at least three hours, a horseman was galloping over the prairie, east- ward bound. § He hel in hand, for the fine animal he bestrode seemed to be familiar with the route over which they dashed through the darkness. A man of superb form was the rider, and clad in usual citizen’s clothing, with the exception of a tastefully-embroidered hunting-shirt of buck- skin and a slouch * prairie” hat. His face and general appearance were the same as that in Mary Monk’s picture, and this was William Blake, the newly-elected sheriff. ; As he rode, his gaze was fixed ponent = the eastward, where the horizon was lit up with rite 3 the bridle-reins loosely _

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4 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. @ vivid, fiery glow, and his face was eager and anxious in its expression, ‘**Tt is a.fire!” he said, ‘‘ but God knows I hope it is not my little home. Iam inclined to think it is still further to the eastward, but I may be mistaken.” rgihg his horse into a swifter gallop they dashed along, each seeming the most anxious to reach the destination before them. Nearer and nearer they approached it as the miles flew by, and the light now grew, gradually less, until finally but a faint tinge was visible upon the horizon, Then the moon came up, and the glow disap- peared altogether. Finally Blake reached a high swell of land in the vicinity of his home, and his eagie eyes swept the scene before him only to. - confirm his worst fears. Where ounce had stood his cosey home and out- buildings, was nothing now but a mass of smol- _ dering ruins. - fession of stage-robbery. With a hoarse ery of agony he drove his spurs into the horse’s flanks, and the intervening dis- tance was quickly covered, and hatless and wild- eyed, Bill Blake stood where once had been the sntrance to‘his pretty home, He saw the live bed of glowing coals; he saw fallen timbers and indestructible articles lying here and there; he saw a few of his herders standing silently, tearfully by; but it was all ine a passing glance, for his eyes became riveted upon.an object lying but a few fect from him, which filled his soul with utter horror. It was the scalp of a flaxen-haired child! CHAPTER II. THE TRAIL TORNADO. PEOPLE, as a rule, who are averse to reading, the so-called sensational novel of far western life, are naturally ignorant of many of the phases of that life which history does not hand down, or newspaper writers do not develop, in detail. : Consequently, when cuviosity ancmpi one of taese to pick up a novel and read about the do- ings of some particular road-agent, ruffian or rascal, he unhesitatingly pronounces it a fabri- cation, unfit for perusal by the rising genera- tion, when perhaps the same day’s issue of his local newspaper contains editorials upon the immoral effects of novel reading, on one page, ani on the opposite, shocking reports of mur- ders, outlawry and domestic scandals, unfit alike for young or old to read. Road-agents and ruffians have existed for sev- eral generations, in the wild Western country, and are likely to do so for many generations to come, much to the disgust and terror of the peaceably-disposed citizen. Asa rule, this class is only a few degrees les~, rough and to be feared, than the typical border’ ‘ruffian; but, circumstances have been chronicled -of a braye and gallant man, with a spice of no- bility in his heart, who had taken to the pro- more on account cf some secret life trouble, than taste for the busi- _ hess itself. he ‘Ee But in truth, these are rare instances; the “average road bandit is a veritable human griz- gly, waiting to embrace you along some lonely Rak ONS SE ae mountain trail, and his work is as detestable at his character is vile. The stage from Gilder’s Bend to McGuffin’s, was what the miners of those two flourishing mining towns called weekly; it aimed to reach one place or the other, once a week, and tried to get back the next; at any rate, its dates for arrival and departure were a thing omitted from the schedule of certainties, The distance between the two towns was only thirty miles, but the trail was a-wild one, steep, sidelong and precipitous, But we find the cumbersome vehicle en route for McGuffin’s, one moonlit evening in May, nearly two years after the events narrated in the preceding chapter. For a wonder it was not loaded down with passengers, as was usually the case, Old Corkleg, alias Jem Stubbs, sat serenely upon the driver’s box, holding back with might and main, his fractious six-in-hand, of hand- some bays, and uttering discordant screeches of song, once in awhile, with a view to livening up his passengers. The only outside passenger was seated weside the driver—an ordinary looking man, who might or might not have been a miner, and who was bewhiskered, and well-armed, Within the coach rode three persons—two males, and a young lady. The first of the two men was evidently an fnglishman, and was a person of rather portly proportions, and full, florid countenance, or- namented with a pair of gray mutton-cho whiskers. His eyes were black, his mout large and firm in its expression, and his hair mixed with gray. - His attire was rich and stylish, and that he was aman of culture, at least, if not a man of wealth and affluence, was evident. : The second person was a ‘heathen Chinee,” but not the ordinary run of Chinamen, who was very richly dressed, a l’a Americaine, His feet were incased not in sandals but in patent-leather boots, then cime a faultlessly fitting suit of clothes of a rich gray color, set off with collar cuffs and tie; then a jaunty Derby hat which any sport well might have envied. The third passenger, the young lady, was probably well-dressed, but a gray duster con- cealed her under attire. She wore a jaunty hat, and was quite pretty of face and figure, having dark brown hair, a tolerably fair com- pe dancing black eyes, and a mouth abitually pleasant in ee : But the rolling and jolting of the ponderous stage, brought little frowns of displeasure to her face, at which the Englishman smiled, «Judgin by your expression, I suppose you will not cherish tender memories of some of our stage journeys in Western America, my Ladv Theresa!’ he said, good-naturedly. ‘No, my lord. Tbe American highways are perfectly horrible—enough to drive one dis- tracted, 1 might say,” was the languid reply. ‘Have you any idea we shall reach our jour- ney’s end, to-night?” : 5 ‘Oh! yes, I presume we shall, I was assured — cm oe stop was but ten ‘miles from Gilder’s an ; 7 ne dt

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son, Fee | Tt seems as if we have come fifty already, What is the name of the next place?” “Tt is called McGuffin’s.” “Oh! dear, Worse and worse, odious mining town, of course?” “It is. I expect to meet Lawyer Pringle there with news,” z “Vain hope, my lord, I fear. I have no fonger any hope that your mission will be suc- cessful.” ‘*T have every reason to believe I shall find my little lost one. Perhaps our friend, here, can give us some information concerning our des- tination? How is it, sir? Do you know aught of the place called McGuffin’s?” ‘*Chinee man mnchee know. MeGuffin’s min- ing town—belly bad place, Melican man belly bad, allee samee like Injin. Shootee like deb- bil,” was the Celestial’s reply, as he retied the ribbon to his queue. ‘Very comforting, indeed,” Lady Theresa de- elared, with a sniff of disgust. ““Oh, never fear. No harm will come to us. What is your name, young man?” the Englisb- man asked. “Chin Chin, Nicee young Chines man. No wash shirtee likee common folks: allee samee like Melican man!” was the somewhat self-as- suring reply. Another “So I should judge,” Lord Clifford remarked : dryly. ‘‘I dare say, seeing that you yet retain ze ur queue, you some day intend returning to ina. “Don’tee know. Melica nice place—makes lots money, here—mebbe marry Melican girl an’ settle down here.” Lady Theresa laughed; it seemed absurd to her that any sensible white girl could think of a Mongolian as a husband, 'The stage bounded on, now, with greater din, as they began to descend the dugway, toward pear ” ola_ter yer grip,” Old Corkleg yelled. ** We're doin’ ther narrows, now, an’ sive liabie ter whop over ther precipice inter ther next world in the jerk of a lamb’s tail; an’ ef ye hain’t fixed things up, an’ posted yer books fer ther futur’, now’s ther healthiest oppercbunity ye’re likely to get,” Lady Theresa turned pale; Lord Clifford looked decidedly nervous and alarmed; but Chin Chin smiled his entire indifference. _ ‘By heavens! we shall all be killed, for” com- ing in this rough vehicle,” Lord Clifford ex- elaimed. But Chin Chin shook his head knowingly. ‘““No be muchee ’fraidee. Chin Chin know drivee belly muchee. No gettee hurt, Cork- legee muchee joke} allee samee like Yankee,” ‘Then, do-you mean to say that there is no danger—that it’s all to frighten us?” ““'That’s de sizee of it, allee samee likee Mehcan man, Melican man belly cutee, but no foolee Chinee man.” “Thank Heaven,” Lord Clifford breathed. _ . “admire you. for those comforting words,” Lady Theresa sighed, regaining somewhat of her former composure, : “Chin Chin belly muchee happy for compli- ment!” the Celestial said, dropping on his knees : in the aisle between the seats, ‘‘ Makee muchee love to Melican girl, allee samee likee Melican — man! Fire off big heapee joss!” But at this instant the ponderous stage came toa most abrupt and unceremonious halt, and unlucky Chin Chin was sent with terrific force against the coach door, which flew open, and the es Romeo was spilled out upon the ground. Lady Theresa and: Lord Clifford were both considerably shaken up, and seeing the way ae bounced’ out upon the ground in some aste, The moon was pouring down a flood of light upon a scene of rugged and ers veal x On one hand great jagged cliffs rose to a tre- mendous hight. while on the opposite side of the narrow wagon-trail was a sheer, black abyss, of seeming unfathomable depth. A few paces in front of the halted coach stood a dozen men, attired in suits of red flannel, with top-boots — upon their feet, jaunty, sombreros upon their heads and crape masks upon their faces from — forehead to chin, with only a slight aperture for the eyes and mouth, Each of these pic- turesque-appearing fellows had his right hand ~ outstretched toward the coach, and in the hands, each, was a cocked revolver, while in the rear stood a similar number of figures, while two more burly knights of the trail stood ~ at tbe heads of the leader horses. r Lord Clifford and Lady Theresa both saw and comprehended. ‘they had heard stories of, these gents of the road, but until now had never had a glimpse of them. “Hal what does this mean?’ Lord Clifford — demanded. i “Waal, I opine et means a Jeep surprise- party, ice cream an’ frosted jelly cake thrown — in!” Old Corkleg answered, from his perch on the box. ‘These byar pilgrims aire mission- aries, I reckon, gatherin’ in Sunday shekels ter — send tew the heethyun down in New Jarsey an’ — Iniy, an’ sech like sinful sections.” ‘Hal hal! you are not a bad guesser!” a rather jovial voice cried, and one of the road-agents in- the rear of the coach, who wore a plume in his — hat, advanced afew paces toward Lord Clif- ford and lady. ‘‘Weare missionaries, but our mission is to toll this. trailfor our own benefit rather than for that of the heathen. This is — rather alight load you have brought us, my — noble Jebu!” ‘ # “I guess they ain’t re ter average innum- | bers,” Corkleg replied, ‘‘ but ye orter take sma favors asthey cum. P’raps ef ye’d’a’ sent me — a postal keerd that ye’d be hyar, I might’a’ — brought along a better crowd,” Bass: ‘*No doubt. But I don’t like that kind of re- ~ ceptions.’ How’s the state of your treasure-box, — driver?” 3 hes “Mebbe ye kin find out!” was the gruff re- sponse, is . “Undoubtedly. Apollo Bill’s men never hack down for one little safe. Boys, open the treas- — ure-box, and band me the contents.” fries “Oh! my diamonds! my diamonds!” Lady _ Theresa cried, clasping her hands. : “Wear not, lady! Dll take care of them,” Apollo Bill assured, with mocking politeness, “and you can redeem them at any time within ene year, by hunting me up and paying for

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@ Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. them. If you passengers have any money or trinkets you think I might like, you will greatly expedite matters and save yourselyes trouble, ‘by handing them over!” What use to resist? The passengers were “tolled”; the treasure- box was blown open and its contents extracted; then the stage was ordered to move on. So the passengers got aboard, and Corkleg let his animals out at a faster rave of speed than they had ever gone before; and as they tore on toward McGuffin’s, Lord Clifford turned to Lady Theresa, and said: “Do you know that I believe I am at last on the right track?” CHAPTER III, DICK DREW. Insmwx of five hours after the events last re- lated, the name of Apollo Bill had received an introduction in the hearfg of every citizen of McGuffin’s, and his fame was made, Lord Clifford and his niece, Lady Theresa, arrived at the little miner’s camp without further delay or accident, and put up at the only hotel the place afforded, which was rather @ monstrous edifice of logs and boards, and a combination of hotel, saloon and gambling- house, under the management of one Jerry Forbes. My lord and lady were shown to a dingy, ill- furnished pair of rooms, which they were as- sured were the only first-class apartments the establishment boasted, and were further in- formed by the eye-to-business Jerry, that as trade and demand for accommodations was - large, the ones who spent the most at the bar were usually shown the most favors, and pro- tected in case of a row, Lord Clifford and the lady did not add any testimony to Old Corkleg’s story of the. stage- robbery—there was no need of that, for the aged Jebu pictured the incident in glowing colors as may well be imagined, considering his ability as - anarrator. . + Corkleg did not believe in doing things by halves, and made Apollo Bill out in the he! of a ferocious typical Italian brigand, who had blood in his eyes, and a complement of butcher- knives in his belt. Road-agents had heretofore been the least of the troubles of the McGuffinites, and they were now naturally excited, if not alarmed, at the close proximity of the light-fingered and by no means bashful gents of the road. ___. McGuiffin’s was a town of some six to seven _ bundred inhabitants, not including the floating _ population, and unlike some mining towns, the _ ruffian element did not hold the predominance. To be sure they were nearly all a rough crowd, spaces citizens, but unless some unusual circum- - stance occurred to “rile” them, they were genevally peaceably disposed, except the usual furday night spree, evidences of which are 5 4 aa 3 ee ever to be found in all towns from California to Bismarck. And this being Saturday night, at least two- thirds of the adult male population were out on a *‘ tear,” with little other purpose in view than to have some fun, spend their week’s hard earn- ings, and imbibe freely of the vile decoctions handed out over the bar in Western mining towns. The story of the stage robbery hit these wide-awakes on the sensitive spot, and for what information he vouchsafed, they ‘‘sat em up” so hvely for old Corkleg that he was “‘sev- eral seas over” ere he had finished his thrilling” narrative, and was obliged to sit down and keep mum. No one was then left to look to for informa- tion except Chin Chin, the dandy Celestial, and he was unceremoniously trotted out into the bar- room, ordered to mount a barrel and explain his recent adventure, or pass in his chips. ? This latter expression was equivalent to sure death, and enough of mining life had Chin Chir seen to be cognizant of the fact that he was in deadly peril. Therefore he mounted the barrel with grace and alacrity. “ Now, lookee hyar, you pig-tailed son of a washee-washee,” exclaimed Modest Mike, the typical bullwhacker, bruiser, and ruffian-gen- eral who looms up conspicuously in the average Western mining town, until some better man comes aloug and deprives him of his spurs; “see hyar, you almond-eyed, flat-mugged nig- ger! e, ther representative citizens o’ this hyar burg, do command yer to make a clear breast of this road-agent bizness, wi’out any palaver or superfluous gab, and the sooner ye do it, the safer will be your queue—sart’in sure!” *Melican man gittee Melican man drunkee!” Chin Chin said, wisely. ‘‘ Let Melican mar gittee Chin Chin drunk, too, and he tellee muchee heep news, allee samee.” ‘*Not bya durned sight, you chop-stick rat- eater—nary a time! Not a drop o a birge kin ye hev till ye guv us a concise statement o the facts of the stage robbery!” “Belly well, Chin Chin nottee know much Stage stop belly sudden, an’ Chin Chin go head ober heels outee door, allee sdmee like debbil. Melican man raise Chin Chin up a AB bape Melican man dressee in red, with big hatee an’ mask, Melican man rob Chin Chin of allee money; den we gittee board stage muchee quickee and comee here.” “And the cuss who cavorted at the head of hy os hailed to the name of Apollo Bill, did e ‘““Yes, he belly muchee nicee looking man, allee samee likee a god of joss.” The morning following the arrival of Loré Clifford and a lady in McGuffin’s was a pleas one, The air was pure and bracing, with just enough force to sootbe the every sense, warmed as it was by mellow beams.of radiant sunshine, and scented with gentle fragrance of the out- leaving forests and early flowers. Birds filled the morning air with their melody; the boisterous but not unmusical shouts of the miners going to their work; the hum. of insects —all combined to make it a cheerful, dreamy and luxuriant dawning of day; at least, so thought Lady Theresa, as she strolled about the rude settlement, : eres

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There was nothing picturesque or even roman- tic about McGuffin’s. There were half a hun- dred or more of rude unpainted shanties and cabins, situated at the very foot of a rugged mountain, upon a level sandy bar or bend, around which the muddy waters of a deep, dark stream surged with sullen murmur. All the mines were reached by meays of drifts or tunnels into the base of the mountain, except oue or two small unpaying surface claims on the bend itself, What there was romantic ahout the place toa lady of her refined and society-cultured tastes, Faas Theresa could not conceive, but the air was very pure and refreshing, aud so she wan- dered on. f There were but two streets, running from the base of the mountain to the river’s edge, and Lady Theresa was upon the steep bank of the latter, looking down into the dark muddy waters, when she heard a footstep behind her, and turned to behold a young man, perhaps a little older than herself approaching. He was well dressed, wore a plentitude of good «jewelry, and was of good form. His face was well chiseled and fair to gaze A ai and his graceful curling mustache and weil-trimmed hair were of blonde color, and his eyes of clearest blue. Although somewhat surprised and alarmed at his intrusion, Lady Theresa was too se!f-pos- sessed to betray the fact, and stood regarding him with a cool stare that must b=ve confused any ordinary person, Ae he drew nearer, the blonde s,. wager tip- ped bis hat as gracefully as a Fifth avenue swell could have done, _ Ab! pardon my seeming intrusion,” he said, bowing, ‘‘ but I believe—I trust I have the pleasure of addressing the charming Lady Theresa—niece of Lord Clifford, of Clifford ' Cliff, England—or, can it be possible I have made a mistake—” And a look of much concern came over his ace. * “You have made no mistake, sir—but [ am at a loss to conceive how you should know any- thing about me,” Lady Theresa replied, prompt- ly and haughtily. ‘ ‘Oh! I dare say you are puzzled, and had I not possessed some knowledge of you and Lord Clifford, I should never have presumed to ad- dress you. I trust you like our little city?” “Hardly. Ihave not seen anything about yit, as yet, to fall particularly in love with.’ Until I have some better recommend of you than that accorded by self-intraduction, I will excuse you, sir.” And her ladyship turned again to gaze out upon the river. : The dandy’s face flushed for an instant at the rebuff, but’ only for a moment, when he said, pleasantly: ““Of course you are doing a perfectly proper thing, we being strangers, but I hope to bave the pleasure of renewing your acquaintance, after I have formally introduced myself to his lordship. _Good-morning!” Lady Theresa was conscious that he tipped his hat, and then retreated down the street, when she burst into a laugh, , = Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. pF Sa i) ee ~~ & “J - Ny yy ese & 2 “Such a gallant, indeed!” she said; “but — then, he may be of use to me.” The individual who had so informally intro- duced himself to Lady Theresa, was known at McGuflin’s as Dick Drew. : He was the adopted son of the only professed — aristocratic family in the mining town, and like the generality of SE sons, felt himself of great importance, while at the same time he was a thoroughbred scapegrace. ; He was at times dissipated, and a gambler of _ no mean accomplishments, and there were few, — if any, who had any great amount of love for him, notwithstanding his rather fascinating ap- pearance, Immediately after quitting the presence of Lady Theresa, young Drew went to the hotel, and inquired if Lord Clifford was to be seen. As Drew was a good patron of the establish- ment, the obliging barkeeper immediately senta — servant to ascertain if his lordship was in his room, and found that such was the case. Drew was accordingly ushered up to the gentleman’s apartment# where the visitor was pleasantly received, and requested to be seated. Without — hesitation Drew: seated himself in the easiest — chair in the room, and helped bimself toa cigar — from Lord Clifford’s holder which stood upon — the stand, within reach. 2 ‘Ah! yes—a very pleasant morning, indeed!” he began, scratching a match upon bis boot and ligfting up. ‘ You, presumably, are Lord Clifford, of Clifford Cliff hamlet, England—are ~ you not?” ee “Tam,” was the nobleman’s reply. ‘Whom have I the honor of addressing?” 5 “T am Richard Drew, at your service,.son of — the Honorable Darcy Drew of tuis place—one of the most prominent capitalists and mine-owners of the region.” q “Ah! I see. Well you this morning, , sir, can I do anything for . . Drew?” a “Aw! no—that is, I dare to presume I can do _ something for you,” was the somewhat sur- prising reply ‘Hearing of your arrival and misfortune, I dared believe that I—” 4 “Thanks! I anticipate your intended kind- — ness, but though deprived of what ready cash I had on my person last evening, T have a suffi- — cient letter of credit from the Bank of North — America, New York, to supply any demand I~ may need at present.” ee. “A very handy thing to have, indeed. But, ~ if I cannot help you in one way, very surely [_ can in another. I believe it was your for- tune to possess, not long since, an avant courtier by the name of Pringle?” . “ Certainly. What of him?” ee “ Whatof him remains is deposited six feet under terra firma, down at Gray’s Ford, where, in the vernacular of the mines, he ‘ passed in his chips’ about a week since.” : au ‘Pringle dead? How know you this?” - “*T fell in with him as a traveling companion, and attended him during his last moments, He confided to me his mission to this country in — search of your lost child, and requested me to | meet you here on your arrival and teil you he — had been unsuccessful,” : a ee ha Na Sey,

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8 _ BDiek Drew, the Miner’s Son, Poor fellow! I suppose he had enough money to bury him?” ‘He had not, but J buried him at my own expense, That, however, is nothing worthy of further metition.” " “Think not so. You shall receive what- ever sum you expended on him. Of what did he die?” : ‘Heart disease, combined with pneumonia.” * Ah! 1 was aware he had an affection of the heart, but did not think he would be carried off so suddenly. And you know of my mission to this country?” “T do, and I doubt not I can place you face to face with the man who knows what has be- come of your lost child.” ** You tell me this?” : **T dol” “Then name your price, and conduct me at once to where I can meet William Blake,” “Presently! The price is the thing first to be considered, before making a bargain, you know,” Dick Drew said, with a sinister smile upon his blonde face, CHAPTER IV. r A MYSTERIOUS POSTER. _. Tae next day Clifford called upon Moses Monk, a typical Jew in pbresrariss and habits, but some there were who hinted that there was ‘more of the Yankee about him than of the - genuine Jew. If such was the case, one thing » was certain—he was playing a well-studied part, _. Moses Monk wasa man of means—a “banker, _ ‘money-lender and pawnbroker combined. He did a general banking business, in his lit- tle shanty, negotiated loans, and lent money on articles of personal value. His place was a regular curiosity, and to Lord Clifford’s mind the fat individual presiding behind the counter, _ who was age as thick as he was long, was even as much of a curiosity as the miscellane- ous articles he had collécted around him, _ He was some fifty years of age, with a face ‘florid and double-chinned; black, wiry hair; By dete Sela black eyes, looking out from under ‘ledge-like brows; a hook nose with a seed wart on the end, and a fierce black mustache, _ He dressed well, however, despite his lack of beauty in face and figure, and there was an ex- ression about his countenance which betokened _ that he was a shrewd one to deal with, _. ‘**Goot-morning, mine frient!’ he saluted, ta bringing a pair of glasses before his eyes, as the gentleman entered, ‘‘Ish der somet’ings vot I can do for you, dis morning?” iy * Yes, I trust there is,” Clifford replied, ap- _ proaching the counter. ‘‘T am short of means 3 and wish to draw some money either on my - foreign or American letter of credit—say ten thousand dollars. My American letter is from the Bank of North America, New York,” _ “ & very goot pank, sure it vas, poot I have “not so mooch monish to my name!” Moses re- sponded, promptly. ‘‘ You write me an order ay : 7 ‘or der amount, und I git you five t’ousand now id der balance ven I draw on New York.” “That will not answer my purpose. Can you cash a thousand!” : “Yaw! I giff you eight hundred for von _ousand dollar order, mine frient,” ‘e = ike: = ts) “What? Is that the kind of a premium you bankers exact?” C “Dot ish shust id. Vedon’d vas keep open sbop for noddinks, Ve coome here to make monish.” “So I should infer. I don’t know which is the least honest—the man who robs the stage, or the one,who robs publicly, with the people’s sanction. But, as I have got to have some money, I suppose I skall have to yield to you. this time.” And going to a side desk, the nobleman wrote out a check for one thousand dollars—the Jew, in the mean time, watching bim like a hawk, as if there was something in his appearance thay struck him, poe . ‘“‘There! Give me the eight hundred dollars!” his lordship said, laying the check on the coun- ter. ‘If you get many such customers, you will soon be an American Rothschild.” Monk looked at the check carefully, and then counted out the eight hundred, and laid it in Lord Clifford’s hand, *“T- vas effer so much opliged to you, mine | frient,” he said, smilingly, ‘‘und shall alvays pe gladt todo you de same kind of a favor here- paces 2 Goot-day, sir; come aroundt ven you vas roke. , ‘¢ Perhaps I shall,” Lord Clifford said, as he set out on his way to the hotel. That afternoon, several posters were found stuck up, here and there, about the town, By what agency they came there was just what no one could ‘explain, nor did the posters themselves afford any information. This is how they read: $5,000 REWARD. “Some years ago an English gentleman, Lord Clif- ford by name, came to Western America accom- panied by his five-year-old daughter, for the sole pleasure of having a buffalo-hunt with the noted scout, Buffalo Bill. Finding that Cody’s services were not to be had, for love or money, just then, his lordship stopped for several months with a herdsman and farmer, William Blake by name. Blake’s child and the nobleman’s child looked as near alike as two peas, and the latter’s child bein sickly, and the two little ones becoming ary ote ; attached to each other, his lordship made a bargain with Blake, by which the latter was to keep Clifford's daughter at the prairie ranch for two years, in order that she sneigt regain her health from the pure air and free life of the prairie. For this service his ‘lordship freed Blake’s ranch from all indebtedness, and then departed for England. ** A little over two years afterward, he returned to America, and to the Blake homestead. Here he learned from the neighbor= that there had recently been a fire which had corsumed the house and out- building—that the bones of Mother Blake had been found in the ashes—that the sealp of a child had been picked up—that the hired girl and \other child. were missing—and last but not least, that Blake himself had arrived on the scene after the fire was over; had picked un the scalp—then uttering a ter- rible oath, had mounted his horse and ridden madly away, never to be seen again, in that section, Any one who can throw any further light on the matter, will be suitably rewarded. reveal the whereabouts of Bill Blake and the other child, a reward of $5,000 will be ee ot ore Cations Should Me Sent Ss Post OMloe, Mec’.

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. The next consideration to be considered was— who was X. Y. Z.? To the best knowledge of the citizens, no such a man lived in McGuffin’s, It was evidently a fictitious signature, to dis- guise the identity of the author. A good many curious ones paused to read the notice, Lord Clifford among the rest. ‘“Humph!” he said, musingly, ‘‘ this is strange. . I wonder what it means. Evidently some one wants to find my lost child worse than I do, Who it can be, in this wild country, is more ‘than I can guess,” Tt was a matter that puzzled him exceedingly, and gave him nota little uneasiness, The idea that some one was working in ahead of him, on his own game, naturally gave rise to the suppo- sition that it was for no good purpose, Dick Drew came up as bis lordship was read- ing the notice for the second time. ‘‘Ha! ha! I see you have been trying to gain your point by another way than by patronizing me,” he said, with a half-sneer, “ All right; just as you please about it.” ‘* You are mistaken,” Clifford said. ‘I know no more who posted this notice than you do— perbaps not as well. Evidently some one has a scheme on foot to make money out of me.” ‘So it looks, and it now stands you in to en- gage me’to thwart this plotter, by first intro- ducing you to Bill Blake.” - “J am not so sure about that; still, you may be right. You swear you can put me face to face with this man Blake, to whom f intrusted the welfare of my child?” “ I do.” “ And your price is five thousand dollars?” “Oh, no—not at present. The way things ie ep you can well afford to pay ten thou- sand. Lord Clifford put up his hands in astonish- ment, ‘‘Are you crazy, man? Do you take me for & person you can twist around to suit your fancy? You are greatly mistaken, then.” “All right. I shall not urge you, but I dare say you will find after awhile that my services won’t come in bad. Good-day.”. And with a mocking bow he turned on his neel and strode away, s “That man is an infernal rascal, and thinks he has got @ hold upon me; bnt that remains to be seen, Perhaps 1 may turn a trump myself.” Every mining town of any size has its dance- ouse, MeGuffin’s was no exception to the rule, adame Moree’s ‘‘ Fashionable Dancing Acad- emy” held open nightly, and was usually well patronized, for, with the exception of an occa- sional drunken fight, it was invariably run on a respectable plan, and patronized by the miners, their wives and daughters, The madame herself was a remarkably hand- some Frenchwoman, of business tact and a re- spectable reputation, and she allowed no one to run her place but: herself. - It was a long, one-story shanty, one-third of. which was used for a bar-room, and the remain- _ der as a ball-room, with a side entrance to the latter for the ladies’ use, The miusic was generally furnished by a super- 9 annuated old miner known as Fiddler Jim, assist- ed by the madame on the piano, : The evening of the day when Lord Clifford had seen the posters offering the five thousand — dollars reward, he was sitting in the office of the ~ hotel when a letter was handed him. ie In some surprise he noted the fact that it was — directed in a woman’s graceful chirography, — and without knowing what to expect, he tore it open. What he read gave him no greater surprise than what he had expected. S The letter read as follows: “ McGurrin’s, May —, 18—. “ Lord Clifford and Lady ;— ‘ * Learning of your arrival in town, and in honor — of your coming; the miners of MeGuffin’s, their wives and ae ters, wish to show their due by ete to your lordship by giving a grand ball at my fash- — ionable dancing academy, and I have been chosen to beg the honor of the presence of yourself and her ladysbip this evening. Very sincerely, : ‘“MapaAMe Morne.” Of course Lord Clifford smiled to himself at the absurdity of the thing. 3 : “T hardly fancy Lady Theresa would care to - make herseff the reigning belle of so fashionable’ — an affair, but in order to make myself familiar — with these rude people, I will attend to-night, — and see what kind of a skirmish is to be given to our honor.” ; 3 Accordingly, when it was about nine o’clock, he repaired to the dancing academy, in evening dress, and looking every inch the nobleman he- was, ieee The music and dancing immediately ceased as - Lord Clifford entered, and Madame Moree glid. ed forward to meet bim. “Tam so delighted that you have come, my lord. fam proud to meet so eminent astranger here in nay humble surroundings.” peg “T am glad that my coming can give you — pleasure, madame, It is very seldom I go out — to social gatherings, but I thought I’d have to © make a break for once, and humor yourself and — the townspeople.” a “ Tt was so considerate in you. But, where is — her ladysbip?” fe * Too indisposed to come out this evening.” # “Too bad,” madame said, with one of her es charming French ‘smiles. - “But that need not % deter you from enjoying Neca e my lord. — With your permission, I will introduce you.” ~~ And, taking his arm, she took him about the 4 ball-room and introduced him to the ladies and — gentlemen present, and the first his Jorden ; knew, he was whirling away with a robust Fi by no means homely mountain lassie, whom he found to be quite as good a waltzeras himself. From her he was caught up by another, and Hope: eighteen years of age, clad throughout in me attire, of rich and stylish gray, and with

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10. = slouch hat bent upon the left side, sauntered into the room, twirling a jaunty cane between her fingers. ‘Hello! Is this the shebang?” she cried, so all present could hear her. ‘‘ Waal, new, this is gorgeous, ain’t it? Where's his nibs, the lord? I’m Rowdy Kate, right down from Right Bower Camp, an’ hearin’ thar was a genuine lord here, [ kim over fer ther honor of havin’ a dance with his lordship, you bet! So, ef you ones the cute caper, jest trot out yer ord! And with this order, the extraordinary girl folded her ayms and gazed coolly around the room, CHAPTER V. ROWDY KATE AND HER STRANGE PARD, AND there was no mistaking that this self- same Rowdy Kate meant pretty nearly what she said, for she was an independent and reso- lute-appearing personage, and moreover, a brace of revolvers in the belt about her waist seamed to indicate that she was not one to argue long over a disputed question. Of fine figure, of medium stature, she was a remarkably pretty girl, despite her unnatural habiliments. Her face was one of almost mar- yelous beauty, lit up by a brilllant pair of eyes, Yot there was an expression about her fair face which suggested the possibility of bitter experi- ence which possibly had contributed to deaden the natural modesty of her sex. Following her unceremonious entrance into the ball-room, there was a dead silence, for several moments, after she had ceased speaking. “Come! I say trot out yer lord, duke, or whatever he may be!” she agaiu cried, grow- ing impatient. “I didn’t sail down hyar ter kick up no muss, [ allow, but dance wi’ the’ Johnny Bull-dog aire 1, ef it costs my biggest bag o’ dust, you bet!” t this juncture, the madame, who had the standing reputation of being able to run ber own shanty, came forward. “See here, young, woman, your presence is objectionable and you must leave!” she cried, authoritatively, taking Kate by the shoulder. But, that dashing personage shook her off. “Who are you, that you presume to lay your claws on me?” she demanded, her eyes flashing, “T am Madame Moree, the proprietress of this place!” was the austere response, “and you not being dressed in accordance with the cus- toms of my place, and being, quite evidently, | a character with whom my patrons do not care _to associate, I must politely request you to take your leave, at once,” ‘Waal, now you don’t say so?” “* Most certainly I do!” _ “And ye ain’t a-goin’ to let me dance with his lordship?” ‘No! the idea is absurd.” “‘ Mebbe yo think he’s better nor Rowdy Kate, old powder-face?” . “That matters not,” the madame replied, fiercely, firing up at the insult, “Hither you _ leave my establishment at once, or I will have you thrown out.” ““Phow! that’s consoling. Now just you Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. 'ookee here, my frisky maiden—I didn’t come here tohev no fuss with you. I simply want the pleasure of dancing with his lordship, an’ then [ll skip. My name is Rowdy Kate, be- cause I’m a leetle wild, butef ther ain’t more orthodox honor an’ lady in my little finger than ther is in yer hull figgar, P’ll buy ther clams fer the crowd. I’m no slouch, ef I am rough, as ye'll find ef ye don’t humor me, thar'll be music!” ‘“‘ Pipo!” madame called, shrilly. ** Pipo!” Rowdy Kate called, mockingly. The next instant, the repulsive-looking hump< back came bounding into the room, and stood awaiting the madame’s orders. He was a hideous looking human, with big eyes, and teeth from either jaw protruding through between his lips—in appearance more like a wild beast than like a man. ‘Hal haf hal” Rowdy Kate cried merrily, as her gaze rested upon the nondescript. ‘‘ So that’s your bouncer, is it, Madame Fresh-skin? I say, Johnnie, just you look me over—l’m Rowdy Kate, I am, an’ you're only about half of a bite for me; so you'd better go back and spill bug-juice.” * Pipo!” the madame cried, stamping her foot, in-a passion. ‘‘ Do you see that woman?” The dwarf nodded with a grin. ‘Well, throw her out at once.” “Yes, come ov, and throw me out, gorilla— Pipo!” Kate cried, composedly, folding her arms, and looking him unflinchingly in the eye. The dwarf showed his terrible teeth as a wild beast might have done, gave vent to a guttural growl, and bounded forward. Just within arm’s reach of Rowdy Kate did. he get, when her right arm flew ‘out! There was a concussion, as if bone had met bone; then the ‘‘bouncer” tumbled to the floor ina heap. Something like a murmur of approval went up from the assemblage, while Rowdy Kate waved her hand triumphantly at the madame. “There you are, done up in_a nut-shell. That's the styie we sling on, up at Right Bower, without paint, or powder!” she cried, laughing- ly. “ What say?—can I dance with his lord- ship, now?” r “No! no! no!” madame fairly shrieked, work- ing herself into a fury. ‘‘I will kill you! I will kill you!” And with the words she drew a glitterin dagger from the folds of her dress, and glide toward the girl sport. What would have occurred next is hard to say, had nota man—a stranger at that—bound- ed into the room, caught the would-be mur- deress by the hand, and hurled her back, ‘* Stop!” he cried, in her ear, t She gazed at him a moment, in speechless rage; then an expression of astonishment and horror came over her face; she hid it behind her hands, and staggered from the room. The man who had wrought this sudden change was one of rather striking appearance. He was just tall enough to be of commandin presence, with a thoroughly-developed an handsome figure, clad from his top-boots to the chin in elaborately-fringed, white-tanned buck- skin. His face was clear-cut and firm, and by no © ‘means homely—his eyes were dark and pierce

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son, it ing; a mouth of pleasant expression was shatied by a model mustache, curling upward at the ends; a narrow goatee ornamented his chin, and bis wavy dark-brown hair fell grace- fully over his broad sbouders from beneath a broad-brim slouch hat, pinned up on one side with a gold band. He turned and gazed after the madame an instant, an expression of supreme contempt on his handsome face; then he turned his gaze over the assemblage placidly as he took out and lita cigar. ody Kate came forward, her face glowing with enthusiasm, * Bully for you, stranger!” she said, putting out her hand, which he took. ‘‘ 1 see you're atter my own style, an’ lm glad to see you. Ef it ain’t any o’ my business, what’s yer in- scription?” ‘“My name, vou probably mean?” “On course,” ‘Well, I believe I’m called John Smith, when I'm at home,” was the composed reply. ‘Ha! hal So you belong to that “ever- lasting Smith family, do you? Some relation ter old John, I dare say, who reskued old Pokerbontas.” “Undoubtedly,” the stranger said, dryly. “Then youre a brick! ‘Spect as toer ye knowed the woman who passed when you or- dered, hey?” “Well, yes, I once met her, and I presume she recognized me, judging by appearances.” “ Who sez she didn’t? Why, she turned jest as white as a bleached piller-case and vamoosed’ like she didn’t care about interviewin’ you, or my name ain’t Rowdy Kate!” Pie Jobn Smith started a trifle. _ * Rowdy Kate, eh?” he said, surveying her critically. ‘*Yas—that’s my lay-out. Ever hear of such a party?” e pointed to a trio of armed miners who were marching into the ball-room abreast— rough-looking fellows, too, they were, : ‘Bet a buckshot they’re coming for me!” Kate said, her eyes flashing, ‘‘ The amiable madame has set them on.” ‘* Perhaps they’re not after you,” the stranger remarked, reaching down and drawing a pair of cocked revolvers from his bootlegs. ‘‘ It is quite possible they will not get the gent they are looking after.” The miners advanced to within a few paces of where Smith and Rowdy Kate were standing, and halted; the dancers filled out the back- ground of the somewhat interesting scene. ‘“ Well, gentlemen, what do you want?” Smith demanded—as he brought bis weapons up in a position ror emergency. “We want to know if you areone William Blake, and if so we are here to arrest you!” one of the miners replied promptly. ““T may or may not be one William Blake, or two or three of them. My name, as I just gave it to Miss Rowdy Kate here, is John Smith, of Idaho City, [daho. You are evidently off your groove.” The mien turned to each other and muttered several words in aR . to have any idea—therefore, Lord Clifford was — “You had best get out of here, and avoid — trouble,” Smith then said to Kate, ‘for it be- — hooves me to skip.” And with the words, he bounded away through the ladies’ entrance, and was gone, “Stop him! stop bim!” Lord Clifford cried, springing forward. ‘That man is indeed illiam Blake, and Vl personally give five hundred dollars for his capture!” « ; He had realized when Smith made a bresk for escape, that the handsome stranger indee bore a close resemblance to William Blake—e — fact, luckily for the stranger, which had not particularly impressed him, when the miners” had made the charge. But, when a dozen men, bent on securing the reward, rushed out into the night, they had only to learn that stalwart John Smith of Idaho City, was not to be found. | 4 And during the excitement, Rowdy Kate took leave of Madame Moree’s ‘ academy.” , a ~ o The fact that a certain pavsonene named Wiiliam Blake, had been in McGuffin’s during — the night, was the cause of considerable com- motion the,next day, Not particularly from the fact that such a Sols existed, but because it was generally | nown that atleast two persons in the town — were anxious for his capture—Lord Clifford — for one, and the reward offerer, X, Y. Z., for — the other. i Who the latter personage was, no ore seemed — looked upon as the prime loser by Blake’s es- cape, enacts to ferret out the matter, Lord Clif- — ford sought the three men who had appeared in the ball-room, and demanded to know who set them on to the stranger. : At first they seemed loth to divulge the secret, but when a consideration of money was slipped — into their hands, they of one accord said the madame had told them what to say. ifr With this knowledge gained, bis lordship took — his leave, = “This madame is a Frenchwoman, and con- — sequently a schemer, and undoubtedly a very — devil by nature,” he muttered, ‘ Frenchwo- — men, as a rule, run that way. Now, the next — point, to consider is—what connection with or — interest in me or my affairs has she, and how F: much does she know, and where did she mee So) iy a it? Egad! the situation seems to grow more— intricate, and complicated. Yet I can but — believe that Iam on the right way to the find- — ing of the surviving child, be it Blake's. — mine.” He immediately sought the hotel, but instead — of going to his own apartment, rapped on the F door of the madame’s room, for she, too, was & — boarder in the house. 3 : It was immediately opened by the madame — herself, and looking quite pretty, she was, in a — full and elegant toliet, notable for its e>stliness, — “Ah! is it you, most noble Lord Clifford?” ~ she said, with a sweet smile. “I half expected — you might honor me with a call, taking into” consideration that 1 come from a family of —

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12 ‘© With your kind permission I will, madame, as I have a few questions toask you.” They were soon seated, the madame throw- ing all her power of fascination into her smiling eyes. my am all attention, my lord. Anything I can tell you, I will be pleased in doing.” “Thank you. I will not question you long, ‘What do you know of myself and my affairs?” _ Nothing, my lord—absolutely nothing; or nothing more that what gossip has brought to my hearing.” ‘Then, what do you know concerning Wil- Zam Blake?” “T know that we are enemies, for life. Why or wherafore, it cannot possibly matter to you.” "You are sure of this?” ** Quite positive.” “Why did you seek, then, to have him ar- rested?” “Because, I saw and recognized him last night, for the first time since—well, in several years. I feared yet hated him. I thought of the reward as a medium of revenge; you know the rest.” : “Do you know Rowdy Kate?” 3 F *““No—nor dol care to. She is only a stroll- ing vagabond, not worthy of notice!” “T doubt that,” was his lordship’s unuttered thought. CHAPTER VI. THE DREWS’ PLOT. StvERAL days passed without anything of ' story importance bappening. The excitement had gradually subsided, yet Lord Clifford had caused to be posted a notice and reward similar to that which had been issued by X. Y. Z., only that he had doubled the latter’s offer, by placing the figures for the capture of Blake at ten thou- sand dollars. Such a sum in eastern cities would naturally ereate a sensation; but out in the mines, where money was to be had for the digging or play- - ing, such a reward was not regarded as extra- ordinary, and none of the sharps of the town appeared to be eager for the bait, and Lord lifford began to despair, nearly as much as ~ Lady Theresa. — ** You will never succeed, my lord,” she per- sisted, ‘‘and I long to be back at Clifford Cliff, once more. You have heard and seen enough. - should think, to discourage you. The scalp of one of the children being found, that conelu- sively proves it was murdered at the farm-house. Do you for a moment suppose that Blake would kill his own child and make off with yours?” “Not unless, like the arrant knave I believe ~ him to be, he may have designs as regards bringing about an heir to my estates in_the future. No! no! I shall never set foot on Eng- lish soil again, until I have stood face to face and at swords’ points with the man who betrayed the trust I placed in him. It may take months or.years before I can confront this villain, but - sooner or later, be must explain to me that which I wish to know.” ‘ ¥ ee 1¢ first time he had seen her since the ballroom Nnaiee Te ket The next day he met Rowdy Kate, it being | a. . She:was perched on a stump, overlooking the | his hind-feet with. a triumphant. wag Bn Panda Dick Drew, the Miner's Son... river, engaged in the heap of whittling and whistling, her rifle handy at her side. Lord Clifford came upon her unexpectedly, but ever self-possessed, would have turned away, had she not hailed him. ; ‘Hello, Lord Clifford! W’at’s yer hurry?!” she bailed, pleasantly. ‘‘Needn’t git skeart, *ea'se I ain’t no grizzly, ner even a wildcat!” “ Probably not, but I did not mean to in- trude; came upon you rather accidentally.” ‘Ob! that’s all right, S’pose ye remember me. I was over tew Moree’s shindig the otner night, a-tryin’ to get a dance wi*you, but some- how I didn’t succeed. Guess as how they reckoned thet was a high-toned skewrup, but pooh; Pve known Digger Injuns to hey a more | fashionable dance than that was.” Lord Clifford smiled, “ Yes, I remember you,” he returned. ‘‘ You are evidently possessed of a spirit of your own, and do not hesitate te show it.” “Me? Oh! no. I hain’t got the spirit of a converted mouse, ‘cept once in a while; then be a reg’ler old double-distilled typhoon, you eb, ‘ A suitable amount of temper is better than no temper at all. Are you alone in the world, young lady?” “Don’t call me that; call me simply Rowdy Kate. Yas, ('m alone heart out of the pack, an’ the knaves Il soon pass me in, and finish the game with the use of spades—if indeed any one fakes compassion enough on me to-put me out 0’ the reach 0’ the wolves,” : ‘You are evidently in a melancholy mood, to-day.” “You mistake. I allow this is one of my bully days. Ef ye want to see me blue, I'll come and tell ye, some day.” ‘“ Have you no friends or relatives living?” ‘¢ One or two relatives, but no friends—not a reliable, true, vever-failing friend on the face of God’s footstool.” p “Thatis bad. I should think it would be easy to find friends for one as bright and beauti- ful as you.” “‘Humph! the word friends ain’t no good nowadays. I kin go up the street and pick up a dozen professed friends, but P'd quicker trust myself in the hands of the fiercest mountain- robber, because there is honor among them, . where their proclaimed betters are no more or less than snakes, in the grass. As fer the wimmen, they’re wuss’n the men, Because | don’t incumber myself wi’ twenty or thirty yards o’ caliker or silk, or satin, they call me bad, bold, and the blazes knows what all. Let em call! Rowdy Kate’s all right, ef she aire leetle, an’ she don’t care a fig fer no one ’cept her dorg. Here, Grizzly—come, Grizzly!” and she puckered up her pretty mouth, and whistler, merrily. , In response an animal made its appearance, and came bounding toward her—not as dogs usually bound, but turning veritable revolutions _ over and over from fore feet to bind, iu the same way our circus performers turn successive hand-springs. It wasa most remarkable sight _ for a dumb brute to be seen doing, and when he ~ arrived in front of his mistress and stood upon eo doen ee of bw

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son, . 13° ‘ tail, Lord Clifford clapped his hands} heartily in applause. “Thar, thet’s my friend, an’ about the only one I kin lay any claim to, I tel) ye. Thet poodle ain’t no great scraps on beauty, but he’s n fighter, an’ knows more’n lots o' humans Pye At last, however, a dark, exultant smile pass ed over his face and he looked up. : He was a dark, swarthy-skinned man of fifty, — perhaps, of large, bony figure, and evident great physical strength. His face was for the most part covered with bristling black beard, and his hair was of the same color. These facts, with his gaunt, long face, gave him anything but a prepossessing appearance, What was the color of his eyes was ie to determine, without removing hi goggles, is attire was of a respectable nature, but not ~ loud or flashy. : “Yes, that is the choice of many ways of get- ting at the matter, and I must tell Dick about it. It can be done, perhaps—” ‘Yes, perhaps it can, dad,” Dick Drew said, entering at thiy juncture—‘‘ it depending alto-— gether on what the ‘ perhaps’ refers to,” : “That we shall know directly, boy,” the elder Drew said. ‘‘ But, what is the news?’ “Nothing, in particular, Everything seems quiet, and very little is said about the rewards,” ‘Just as I surmised. This man Blake is too littie known in these parts, for identification, and devilish few miners are willing to give up steady jobs for the sake of poing on a wild- goose chase after him, I wish I could have seen — the fellow; should then be better satisfied that it was indeed the man.” * There can be little doubt of it, as the madame — claims to have recognized him at sight, as did — the Englishman.” ; : “Strange that he should come here; but it~ will not nearly so strange if he reappears, — He is a crafty devil.” : “Well, I don’t imagine we have anything to — fear from him, no matter how savage he max bate f ‘Ha! hal no, And, now, about the child, — There are evidently three parties who know — something of the mater, and Lord Clifford, — Blake, and another person constitute the three, forgetting, of course, ourselves, whose know=— ledge is very limited. Well, now, Lord Clifford, — as 1 make out the case, is the most interested _ arty, from the fact that he is searching for ~ his lost offspring. Nor is this all; he is search- + ing for an heir—one out of the only two living — legal heirs who could inherit his wealth after — his death, Ihave learned all about this, The — only heir remaining, is the Lady Theresa, who - accompanies him, and who only inherits, when” it is proven that the true child of Lord Clifford — is dead. See 55a Dick Drew nodded, He had a fertile imagi- nation, and was not slow to comprehend, a “The second person to be interested in the case, I doubt not is Blake, for I have a stronger _ idea that he has not possession of either of the “* Undoubtedly, judging by his recent exhibi- tion.” “Oh! I Parnt bim that. Sum’ fellers hate dorgs an’ shute ’em on sight. As a rule they ginerally take aim at a dorg’s head—so | Varnt Grizzly allus ter approach a pussop promiscuss- ly, so that ef be war fired upon, they war as likely to shute off his tail as his head.” as Cans logic is not without reason,” Lord Clifford said, smiling. ‘‘ And now, may I ask you how much do you know about the man who rescued oe the other night, who called himself John Smith?’ ‘Hal ba! I know one thing; he’s too rich for you and the madame’s blood. He’s like a magic flea—when ye think ye’ve got him, he ain't there.” “Pll admit he was too much for us, then, But, I must capture him, or at least confront him and have redress.” “Yas, you'll need on several dresses ef ye cal- culate to buck ag’in’ bim. Don’t know any more about him than you do, butI sized him up as somethin’ nigh to a condensed earthquake.” ‘¢ Bad man I baveuo doubt he is, but I must by all means have an interview with him. You are a girl of ready wit and tact—Ill give you the reward I’ve offered, if you will bring it about so that I can have a private meeting with him.” “Lord Clifford, you are undoubtedly a man of noble, generous, and honorable principles, but if so I know you will not a second time at- tempt to cause me to betray the only ian who bas taken my part in many a long day, I will bid you good-day, sir!” Honorable Darcy Drew was oue of the richest miners in McGuffin’s, from the fact that he owned interests in several of the best payin mines, besides having lots of ready money, whic he was at all times willing to loan for a big share, on unincumbered claims. He was seldom seen outside of the door of his own mansion, which, by the way, was one of the best structures in the camp, and comfortably furnished. All this outside business was attended to by his dutiful son Dick, who, with an eye to the future, was carefu) not to offend his father by any neglect of duty or extraordinary robbery. ? What reason the elder Drew had for his per- sistent seclusion, was a riddle unsoluble to the McGuffinites, unless he was afraid of meeting some old enemy, who would ‘nail him” at sight. He was never seen upon the street, ex- cept it was after dark, and seldom, then. he evening after Lord Clifford’s interview with Rowdy Kate, Darcy Drew sat in his pri- vate office, or library, his hend resting on his hand, the arm of which in turn rested upon a fine office table. That be was buried in thought was evident, for his green-gogeled eyes rested | cuniary interest, like ourselves, in putting steadfastly upon the blaze of his office lamp, for } poultices and drawing out of the case all tt some time, Ss _| money possible,” : we ’ child than Clifford has of his, and if he has any fatherly instincts, he must be just as anxious to learn which of the two children was killed,” ** You are right, again.” , Bi “The third interested party, has ae ape x ¥

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14 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son, “Prohably. And, now, if Blake is not pos- sessed of the child, who is?—that’s the question, which it ray take a good deal of time to solve,” “Not in my estimation. I do not have a doubt but’ what the child who escaped the mas- sacre at the farm-house, that night, is in the charge of the servant-girl, Mary Monk, who also escaped.” “ Ah! that had never occurred to me, and I believe you are right, The next thing is— where is Mary Monk?” iene “Not far from here, I fancy. This third in- terested party I spoke of, also possessed the name of Monk, and the name being an uncom- mon one, [ presume he is related to Mary Monk, and has conceived an idea that such being a fact, ho is interested in the circumstances of the ease, by a knowledge of them and the where- abouts of Mary Monk and the child.” ‘Well! well! you’d make a fine rogue— rather a detective, if yon wasn’t so pious, and essed of so many conscientious scruples,” ick Drew said, with a villainous laugh. *‘ But this latter conclusion 1s only drawn from guess- work, eh?” ; **- Yes, but I have every confidence that it will turn out as [ have outlined. Now, the things for us to do, is the next and most important consideration.” “Exactly. First of all, we must be to the fore in finding out where is Mary Monk and the kid?’ “Yes, That is nearly our first move. Then, at the same time, we must work Lady The- resa!” “Ab ” “ Yes, sho is next heir after the young ‘un. She would not be natural if she did not have a hope that the child would never turn up, You see? Now, you can approach her on. the sub- ject and tell her you know just where to ay your hands on Lord Clifford’s ahild, and are only awaiting for bigger inducements before _ producing it, In this way you can draw out ‘ ber sentiments and make your inventory. If you think it safe, you can propose to her that if she will marry you, you will forever have the child kept in its present obscure but comfortable home, [f she tumbles, all well; if not, you may in some such a way workup his lordship.” ; **Good plan. And now, how shall we pro- ceed to work the Dutchman, Moses Monk?” “T hardly know, as yet. It will not take me Tong, however, to arrange some good plan.” CHAPTER VIL. APOLLO BILL, THE ROAD-AGENT, Durnine the week following the events last harrated the namo of Apollo Bill, the road- agent, became better known to the public, from the fact that several stages were relieved of their treasiire-boxes and numerous passengers _ of their loose change and valuables, _ OF course, Apollo Bill being first in the field in that section, he received the credit for these outrages, and his name was in every one’s ~ mouth. - Some said he was a very handsome man while others, who had enccuntered him, arguect that little could be told whether be was hand- , some or not, owing to the nearly full mask be wore, His band of scarlet coats were evidently fully as fearless as their leader and therefore were a formidable band to encounter. Prd pee of the existing evil, the U. S. Mar. shal had sent an expert detective to McGuffin’s, who had the legal power to call for local assist- ance to hunt down the’ road-agents, if neces- sary; but as yet he had made no move in that direction, This man’s name was Butler, and instead of taking any immediate steps toward bunting down the outlaws, he issued a placard, offering ibe hundred dollars for the arrest of Apollu ill. As compared with the munificent reward offers by X. Y. Z. and Lord Clifford, for the arrest of William Blake, this reward enlisted no interest whatever. Butler was a dapper little individual, who did not look as if he ever was intended for war. In the mean time, Lord Clifford had accom- pl nothing. He was still stopping at the otel, and was daily on the alert, in hopes of learning something relating to his case; but it seemed to be a vain quest. One afternoon, while be was out about town, Lady.Theresa ordered her fine saddle-horse—a new purchase since coming to the camp—and mounting, rode about the town awhile, finally branching off into the deep ravine, which was the only way of reaching the camp by stage or saddle. She had never, penetrated the strange place before, and should have known better, perhaps; but the temptation to ride in between the cool, high, rugged walls was too great to resist, and the ring of her spirited steed’s steel-shod hoofs reverberated through the long aisle of nature. So well did she enjoy a wild gallop, and so much did she admire the grandeur of the rug- ged scenery around her, that she had gone many miles before she thought of turning back, and it was only then, when an accident occurred, that she was brought to a realization ot her situation. ‘ Selim, her horse, caught his right fore-foot in a crevice, and failing to extricate the foot, he went plunging forward to the ground witha scream of agony, as his leg snappéd in twain. Too thoroughly a horsewoman was Lady Theresa, to be endangered by such an accident. Many a wild and exciting fox-chase, in the great meadows back of Clifford Cliff had in- ured her to the babits and mishaps of eques- trianism, 60 that she bad landed upon her feet, safely, ere her poor steed reached the ground, bruised and badly broken. *“Poor Selim! I am to blame for this, my r, faithful fellow! Your leg is broken, aad must be miles from the town. It is growing dark, too! Oh, dear, what shall I do?” “Do what every sensible young lady would do, under the circumstances—be brave!” a voice exclaimed, and Dick Drew stepped from behind a big bowlder, but a few feet away. Lady Theresa gave a little scream of horror, but when she saw who it was, she felt a. trifle more assured, — Mas Oe eo “ Lady Theresa, this is a painful accident you

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. Nera eM have met with, and # is opportune I happened tu be so near, as I trust I can be of some little service to you, at least,” young Drew said, a proaching, ‘‘If you will go back down the ulch aways, I will shoot this poor animal, who is suffering intense pain from a broken leg, and put him out of his misery.” ‘*Oh! must he be killed, sir?” “Certainly. It would be:cruel to let him lay here and suffer, when nothing we can do can ease him,” Then 1 will go, sir.” And she turned away. : “JY will join you ere you have gone far, and act as your guardsman back to camp,” Drew said, in his most pleasant and respectful tone. And he was true to bis word, After putting poor Selim out of his misery with a rifle-ball, he hurried dowu the gulch in pursuit of Lady Theresa, and soon overtook her. ‘““We've a distance of over twelve miles to walk, Lady Tremaine, and I fear you will prove inadequate to the task!” he said, anxiously. “Oh, never fear about me. I am young and strong, and if I get tired Pll rest, and then re- sume the journey. How came you so-far, may Task?” Oh, I’ve been hunting a big cinnamon bear for a couple of days past, unsuccessfully, and was about starting for home, when I heard you BE TORGU ME They walked along in silence then for several miles, when Lady Theresa signified a desire to rest, and Drew found her a seat on a moss- knoll, while he stretched himself out upon the grass near by. The full moon was pouring her effulgent rays down into the ravine, lighting up the picturesque surroundings Drilianely “His lordship has not heard any reliable tid- ings of his lost child as yet, has he? Drew asked, as he lit a handsome pipe, and sent a wreath of smoke heavenward. ‘*Oh! dear, no, and the our ee it is he per- . sists in remaining in this horrid country with- out any reason.” “Then you think the child will never be found?” “Pooh! of course. It does not look reasona- ble that she will ever be found.” ‘¢-You being the only heir, then, I should pre- 3ume you have no great anxiety to have her found!” Drew remarked, insinuatingly. Lady Theresa did not reply—her face was averted; she was toying with one of the dia- mond rings a her fingers, “TJ think I can read you,” Drew pursued, carefully. ‘‘ You are nota lady who could ever stoop to a criminal act or think a criminal thought—yet, should Maud Clifford never come to light, I am satisfied it would be but natural for you to feel a great sense of rellef. Is this not so?” “T neither admit nor deny it. I do not look for the child’s recovery: consequently I do not feel the anxiety I might otherwise feel.” “But when I assure, truthfully and candidly, that I know where Lord Clifford’s child is, and am only waiting for bigec offers from him be- re produce her—what have you to say, en ‘ smack—" 15 “Tf what you say is true, I am of course in danger of having my hopes regarding the heri- tage spoiled. here is this child?” “Ina aay but secluded home, where, ig- norant of really who she is, she is as happy, as ure and as mnocent as childhood can make er, **-You are sure of this?” “Tam. Isaw her but a few weeks ago, and she was,to all appearances, healthful and happy.” ‘T must telluncle this. It will give him so much comfort and assurance.” “Ab! then you think not of your own fu- ture?” oe I do, but not with designing in- n “But, look. Hear me out, Lady Tremaine. Iam ason of an honorable family, and should not, perhaps, make suggestions to one like you, were it not that I always hate to let a good chance go by unimproved. Now, this child is in good hands, in comfortable circumstances, She does not dream of being a nobleman’s heir —why should she? Even the people who have adopted her have no thought of such a thing, and nobody but myself knows where and who she is, All the parties in the world might search for her without result. She is buried—none can resurrect ber to her righful position save me. Why, then, should you not be heir to all Lord Clifford’s weelth?” Lady ‘theresa buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears. ; : ‘“‘Ob! don’t! don’t! You are a bold, wicked, unscrupulous monster—you wish to make me the victim of a villainous plot!” ; “Ab! Lady Tremaine, you wrong me. I | have no such purpose in view. I have simply — been pointing out to you an ou ede to save yourself. I beg pardon if I have given offense, Come, let us £0, or we will not get to camp before morning.’ ‘Stop! there is more to this; you may as well explain now as later. You know where the child is—what would be the price for for- ever keeping the child in oblivion, as regards herself?” z “The price—well, there can be no harm in telling you. I am eh in love with you, my proud and BE Snre ady Tremaine, and, as your husband, I should probably look to our mutual interests in respect to the real heir. You may accordingly judge that my price is your hand!” ‘Sirlt I loathe and despise you for your will- ingness to defraud a child out of its just dues, Tht want to marry a monkey, I will go to Africa and select one to my own choosing.” ‘*Good decision! Darwin says all the human rac? are descendants therefrom, and perhaps your ladyship’s tastes long for one of the orig- inal aborigines, rather than one of the more — enlightened species. As to the child, if Lord | Clifford don’t care to pay a princely sumfor it, 1 shall hold it a matter of twelye years yet, marry it, oust you out of Castle Clifford, and reign as lord-master, Ha! ha! no scheme like — one reversible, to suit all circumstances, kiss, now, my beautiful Lady Tremaine, anu then I am away! Just one long, lingerimg —

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16 Dick Drew, the Miner's Sen. *‘Tn the mouth, and that settles you!” a stern voice cried, and Drew received a blow across his face that flattened him instantaneously to the ground, He sprung to his feet, however, with a cry of fury, and stood face to face and within three paces of his assailant, who was a man of hand- some figure, clad in scarlet suit of buckskin, top-boots and slouch hat—a man whose face was covered to the chin with a mask—whose hair flowed in a wavy mass over his shoulders— aman who wore a pair of dangerous-lookin revolvers in his belt, aud looked as if he coul “lick his weight in wildeats.” __ ‘*Curse you, what do you mean?” Dick Drew damanded, doubling up his fists and panting with rage, ‘‘ What do you mean, sir, by laying hands on a gentleman?” “Most assuredly, I do not remember of ever having done so, in anger!” the man of the mask replied, composedly. ‘‘ Do you mean to insinu- ate that you are one of that species?” “Certainly, and I can whip the man that says T ain’t!” Drew declared, hotly. “Ob! that probably is a matter simply of your own opinion, dare say a good-sized - mouse would frighten the wits out of you, if so be you happen to have any.” “You black-hearted ruffian, do you mean that insult?” “Tm one of the most candid men in the world, so judge for yourself!” was the taunting reply. ‘Apollo Bill never thinks one thing, and speaks another.” ; ss ae Bill!’ Drew exclaimed, incredu- ous “A pollo Bill!” Lady Theresa gasped. “Exactly! Apollo Bill!” was the cool re- sponse. ‘I seem to be known to you. Lady Tremaine, has this fellow, whoever he may be, a ate you further than by offering to kiss f you?’ ¥ <P) ‘No, sir—unless proposing to marry me can ‘be regarded as insult.” ’ “Tshould regard it as the hight of insult, I : wonder you didn’t accept him! I should think the girls would run crazy over such a desirable ~ young man. Young fellow, whence camest % thou? If you_peregrinated hither ward from the town of MeGuffin’s, it is yet several miles distant down this ravine, and about tbe health- jest thing you can do is to seek it, in a hurry. But, first of all, get down on your knees and say: ‘Lady Tremaine, I humbly ask your par- don!’ Then you can go!” “fal hal you think Iam an idiot, do you?” Drew cried, “T don’t think anything about it!” Apollo Bill retorted. ‘All I ‘ask of you, is to do asT just bade you!” oe “Why, I’d see you in — first!” fj “On, your knees I say!” Bill cried, sternly, at _ the same time drawing, cocking, and leveling one of his revolvers. ‘Ill give you just two minutes to obey me.” _ . Dick Drew was an arrant coward, when it -* @ame to facing dauger; so he resolved to save _ his life, even at the expense of humiliation. : : “Lady Tremaine, I humbly beg your par- ~ @on!” he said, a malicious smile on his face. _\. “That is wrong!” Apollo Bill said, ‘ Get on your knees. - Lively, too=you’ve not much tinv:| to lose!” White with rage, Drew obeyed; then, rising and shaking his fist at them, he hurried down the picehs ‘The hour is late,” Apollo Bill said, turning, to Lady Tremaine, { ‘* Accompany me to my retreat, and I guar. antee you greatest courtesy and attention, until, morning, when I will send you back to Mc- Guffin’s, First; however, you must permit me to blindfold your eyes!” CHAPTER VIII, AT APOLLO BILL’S RANCH, THERE was no other course Lady Theresg. could pursue that she could see, and she accord- ingly signified her acceptation of the road-agent’s proposition, She could not be in worse hands, at any rate, than she would have been under Dick Drew’s ett and this thought gave her considera- le reassurance, With a black silk handkerchief, Apollo Bill gently blindfolded her eyes so that she could not see; then he gave vent to a@ shrill whistle, and she was conscious that a number of horsemen had ridden out from some adjacent cover ane surrounded them. The next action was to place her on horseback behind Apollo Bill, who directed her to put ber arms about his waist and ‘‘ hang on.” The horses then started off on a ee and thus continued for hours, it seemed to Lady ‘Theresa, ere a halt was made, and she was as: sisted to dismount. Then, after a few minutes, the bandage was — removed from her eyes,and she was able to view her surroundings. She was in a large room, containing one door and no windows, Light was furnished by a dozen candles, which burned brightly in a rude sort of chandelier; a table, several stools, a eouch of skins, and a carpet of the same mate- - rial comprised the furniture. The only occupant of the room, besides Lady Theresa was a neatly-clad Indian girl, who stood near at hand, and who had evidently removed the blindfold. She was, more properly, a half-breed, bein light of complexion, and more intelligent an pretty appearing than the average Indian girl. “Ah!” Lady Theresa said, gazing about her, in surprise. ‘t How is this—where am I?” ‘““'You are in the house of Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado!” the gisl replied, in good Eng- lish. * But I thought I just dismounted?” **So you did, and were lifted from your horse’ ee this room,” the girl said, wit? » vague smile. Labo under such circumstances as these. here is Apollo Bill, as you call him?” “Gone to the assembly room, I dare say.~ Did you wish to see him?” : “Oh, no. Ihave no overwhelining desire in that direction. Road-agents, or more correctly, robbers, are not on my list of acquaintances. This high-named Adonis who has brought me — “Oh! well, I suppose one is subject to being —

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. ir ae ON a Sn) 17 here is, i dare say, a paragon of beauty and wolfish cruelty combined.” «Indeed, lady, you wrong him, Apollo Bill isa gentleman and a man of honor, outside of his profession, of which it isnot for me to judge, He never offers harshness to a woman, ut can be stern with men when necessity demands it.” ** And who are you?” “1 am Conchito. I was rescued from the vengeance of my people by Apollo Bill when they were about to torture me for warning a party of pale-faces of an impending massacre, Apollo Bill took me to his home, treated me as he would a sister, and as such I love him,” “Indeed. Very romantic. Can you tell me what his name is, aside from Apollo Bill?” “T cannot.” “You will not, ‘*No; I cannot. “Ah! Do you know, then, what object he has in following the sinful life of a robber? Surely not wealth.” “Not that alone, He has a sad story con- nected with his life. Once he was in good cir- cumstances, but the hand of an enemy did him a foul wrong—one that he could not forgive— one that urged him to seek for vengeance. He struck the trail of his enemy and followed him for many suns. At last one night he fancied he saw his man standing upon the upper deck of a Mississippi River steamboat as it lay at the levee. Drawing a revolver, he shot him through the heart, ‘Tt afterward turned out that he had killed the wrong man, and the news of this nearly drove him wild with despair. From point to point he fled, closely pursued by the minions of the law. Twice be was captured and placed in jail, but on each occasion he escaped. At last, hunted down to the last resort, he rallied around him a band of fellowsand took to the mountains. They were discovered in their first retreat and branded road-agents ere they had earned the right to such a calling. “¢ Assailed by despondency and anger at this injustice, Apollo Bill fled to this fastness and organized his men into what is known as Apollo Bill’s road-agents. “There, you have all that I know about my protector,” “Good enough for a novel,” Lady Theresa said, taking off her hat and riding-cloak. “T presume this muchly-wronged man has a child living, has he not?” ‘Not to my knowledge, ma’am.” “You have never heard him speak of having: a child now or in the past?” ‘ Never.” ‘‘ Well, perhaps he is of a secretive disposition concerning his habits; perhaps, again, he is not the party I think he is, Have you ever seen aim unmasked?” x **T have not.” “Then he remains constantly disguised?” “So far as I know, yes.” “Do you think he would grant me an inter- view?” : “T do not—yet, I possibly may be ‘wrong. I will tell him your wish, and you need not be surprised if he does or does not put in an appear- mance soon.” : : you mean.” Then, with £ courtesy, the girl passed from the room, tak: ag the precaution to lock the door after her, and Lady Tremaine was left to her own meditations. It was not for Lady Theresa to see Apollo Bill that night had she desired to ever so much, She waited a reasonable length of time for him to come, and then threw herself wearily upon a couch of skins, wondering if she would indeed get safely to the mining-camp, as Apollo: Bill had promised. Sleep soon came to her eyes, and she forgot all her troubles, until she was aroused by Conchito, the Indian girl. “Come. I must blindfold you, and then you ‘| will be taken back to the miners’ camp,” she said. ‘‘ Here isa package Apollo Bill directed me to give you, ane was what he had taken from you and Lord Clifford.” j Lady Theresa received the package with a glad cry, and permitted Conchito to blind her eyes. Next, she was led from the room, and mounted upon a horse, with a man in front of ~ her, the same as before, and was soon dashing away, An hour later, shé was dismounted in the gulch, within sight of McQufiin’s but by the time she could unbind her eyes, her carrier was gone from view. x The following night, the outward bound stage from McGuffin’s, containing bullion in the treas- ure-box, to the amount of ten thousand dollar: was stopped just outside of the camp, by a ban of red-coa road-agents, the passengers re- lieved of their valuables, and the Yatton appro- priated, after which the outlaws rode triumph- antly away, and the coach turned back to McGuffin’s to dispense the tidings. The excitement created by the report was in- tense. The owners of the bullion were wealthy mine-owners, but they seemed to feel the loss just as keenly as though they were poor, aad offered big rewards. A band of men were at once organized, and sent out to scour the vicinity for the bold ma- rauders, bat they returned the next day, at 3 noon, without having even struck the trail of the gang. ~ Mining was for the most part suspended, and groups of men collected here and there, about the town, to discuss the situation, What was to be done? They were in the midst of a danger for which there was no ap- parent help. Were they to give tamely up to thesystem of brigandism, which Apollo Bill had inagurated? Were they to submit to being deprived of their earnings by him, at his own convenience? No! something must be done—all seconded that motion, But what? That was the question just then Jacking solution. uty Marshal Butler was consulted, and — as removing the existing evil. “Gentlemen,” he said, ‘‘ from my experience of these road-agent devils, I find there ain’t no — way 0’ gettin’ at ’em, like bidin’ your time, watcbin’ carefully, an’ ’ropin’ ’em in, when — they're not expectin’ it.” \ 3 : g - why he did not make some move toward

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is Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. This did not satisfy the average McGuffinite— he wanted gore, and wanted it bgd, too. But what set the town in the greatest uproar of all, was the discovery of a large notice just before sunset, posted upon a saloon-door, in _ plain view of every passer-by. It was written with a brush in large letters, and read thus: ‘ ** NoTIcE. ‘TI, the undersigned, will pay five hundred dollars to that party or parties, who will capture alive, and hand over to the proper authorities, one_outlaw and road-agent by the title of Apollo Bill. Heis a hard case, but must be caged, if any one’s got assurance enough to try the job. As soon as captured, I will | pay to the captor the above sum. “ Yours truly, “ APOLLO BILL, “The Traii Tornado,” Tf this wasn’t the hight of impudence and au- dacity, the McGuffinites didn’t wang a cent. After others had their turn at ‘offering ‘re- wards, this Adonis of the roads had actually come out and offered a reward for his own cap- ture—the worst of bluffs to the McG——ites, Nothing like it had ever been heard of before in those districts. : ‘The man Moses Monk seldom left his little bank, but early on the evening following the events last narrated, he closed the shutters, and left the place by the rear way, taking care to fast lock thé doors behind him. Going to a stable near by, he brought forth anc bridled and saddled a skinny-looking donkey and mounted the same, after which he rode down along the shore of the river. lt was but a narrow and dangerous path, seldom used as a way of exit from the town for this reason, but the sober-looking donkey picked Bis vay along as though familiar with the rail. The donkey and its obese rider were so widely at contrast as regards size, that they made a really ludicrous appearance, At first it was very dark, but after they had followed the dark, rapid stream for some three hours they were fortunate enough to have a dim light from the late moon to reward their efforts in endeavoring to pursue the difficult path, The scenery for miles was wild in the extreme, On either side of the river rugged, craggy moun- tains rose almost perpendicularly, to great hight, in continuous chains, as if to guard the sullen moaning waters from escaping from their embrace, The night was well advanced cre Moses Monk eame to a short of plateau widening in the monotonous course of the trail, and drawing rein, he dismounted, The donkey immediately lay down, showing no disposition to proceed further. With a grunt of approval, the banker gazed sharply around him, and then began to climb up a steep and rugged path, that led toward the mountain top. For some time he pursued the route; then reached a sort of shelving ledge, barely big enough to stand upon, In front of him, looking into the mountain, ) wasa large, cavernous opening, which was the ‘oud,” the Jew replied, facetiously. entrance to some subterranean chamber, and which now had a dark and forbidding appear- ance, Waiting a moment to get his breath, Monk bead into the entrance, and called: ‘Mary! Mary!” There was no immediate answer, so he called again: ** Mary! are you there?” Then, a woman’s figure glided out from the cavern, : « CHAPTER IX. MOSES AND MARY, / “Mary, ish dot you?” Moses Monk asked, Lares 3 into the face of the woman. ** Who do you popes it is?” was the rather short reply. ‘‘ What brings you here at this unseemly hour, Moses?” “Oh! dat you vill learn, ven you vas find “Tsh der kid ashleep?” “* Yes, hat of it?” *“T vas glad of it. I haff something imbortant to tell you.” * What! Have you any tidings of—” “Dot don’d vas matter. I ish here to tell you somet?ink, if you ask me in,” ‘Oh! well, come along in; but for heaven's sake, leave off that Jew business and speech, which makes you unnatural and despicable!” **Oh! well, if you like, I will, for the present, but 1 must resume it, in ‘business, you know, for the average American admires the shrewd tusi- ness tact of the Jew, if not the Jew himself, and therefore patronizes him. Lead on, however, ‘and [I will try to speak my native Yankee tongue.” Mary obeyed, and the banker followed her into the heart of a large inter-mountain cham- ber, where all was darkness of the most intense nature, A lighted torch, however, soon illuminated ‘the scene, and the interior of the cave. There was for furniture a table and chairs, and some skins and blankets in a couple of places which were probably used for beds, On one @§ these beds lay a. flaxen-haired girl of nine or ten years, fast asleep—a pretty, sweet- faced, healthy-looking child, whom one could not help admiring. Even Moses Monk went over, and looked down upon the sleeping innocent, with more of a softening expression than was usually seen upon his face, ; Then he turned to Mary—a woman, young in years, and possessed of axerese good looks. ee appears healthy and happy, Mary?” he said, 3 ** And so she is,” was the response, ‘Since I came here, she has picked up, day by day, the wildness of our surroundings seeming to affect her for the better, What brings you here, Cousin Moses?” . * Business, Sit down, and we will compare notes.” : And so saying, he drew a stool forward into the torchlight and became seated. Mary followed his example, a look of eager expectancy on her face. _ Sbe was @ woman still in her twenties, and x <<. 8 eg Pte OO ee On

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” Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. ’ rather pre! ssing in appearance, despite her common dress and an habitual expression of sorrow which hovered about her eyes and mouth. “Yon come to tell me good news?” ske asked, leaning toward him. “Well, that depends somewhat on how you Jook at it. I have news, itis true, but whether it will be good to you or not I do not know.” “Then you have founda Mr, Blake?” ““Yes—that is, he was in McGuflin’s not many evenings ago; but, owing toa demand for him, by several parties, he was obliged to make him- self scarce, A new road-agent luminary has put in an pe pear anes in the neighborhood, styling himself pone Bill, and as their descriptions are very nearly the same, I dare to presume that he and Blake are one and the same.” ‘Ob! Mr, Bill would never do that—no, I do not believe he would, for an instant, consider such @ tice Ta ‘Pooh! Men will do anything, nowadays, for the sake of eepiak in the shekels.” “Oh! I wish 1 could be satisfied, for certain, in regard to the matter. Who were the persons who wanted him?” “The woman, Madame Moree, who keeps the dance house; Lord Clifford for another—well, there seems to have sprung up a general interest connected with bim. You see it has got out about the lost child, and Lord Clifford is offer- ing some big rewards for the capture of Blake or the child, That makes it worth while for different ones to try and ferret outthecase. As it stands, I have got the inside track, and all I lack is your co-assistance for me to make things work,” ‘* How do you mean?” ; “ The same way I explained to you on a for- mer visit, Tell me whose child t is, yonder —Bill blake’s or Lord Clifford’s. Then I will make gos my wife, and our interests will be mutual and identical. Then I will produce the child before Lord Clifford, with you as the at and claim a reward of twenty thousand dollars, which, when added to my own pile, will make us independent for life.” “A very tempting proposal that might seem to some women, but not to me. In the first place, I am your cousin—that is one good and sufficient reason why I could not marry you. In the next place, [ do not nor have I ever loved but one man, and fate seems to will it I shall not be granted the favor of his presence very often.” “You mean Apollo Bill?” “JT mean William Blake.” ** Pooh! you are foolish. That man you wil) Prahabiy never see again, for the Vigilance mmittee are after him, hot and heavy, and ‘ll elevate him as soon as they et him. Besides, he cares notoing for you. hen he was in McGuffin’s he was accompanied by a woman dressed in male attire, who called herself Rowdy Kate, an’ I reckon he was on purty good terms with ber.” “ Bah! I do not believe it!” “Well, I do not know whether you do or not, But anyhow you must tell me which man is the father of this child. If you do not. “Ye are henceforth strangers,” “So may it be, then. UntilI see fi, I shall disclose nothing to any one,” “You are sil. nae stubborn!” “TY amnot. You never thought well of me until you found I was worth money from hav- ing in my possession one of the children, I know all you care for me is to make some ar- rangements whereby you can get possession of the reward money and I will have nothing to do witk you. Go back to your Jew shop and try to earn an honest living.” “Yes, I will go, but you may see me again soon ina way that will not suit you. Adieu, Lady Honesty!” Then, with a bitter laugh, he turned and left the cavern. : Mary Monk gazed after him with flashing es. ey: , “* Oh! you contemptible coward, how, despise you!’ she cried. ‘* You thought to make your cousin your dupe and tool, but, no matter who is the parent of yonder sleeping child, you shall not have the satisfaction of earning the reward, nor any one els¢ while I can help it, There are a few things I must learn before 1 yield my charge to any one, and, first of all—is William Blake true to acertain promise he made me some years ago# Moses Monk went at once back to McGuffin’s. He was literally boiling with rage over his defeat, and the soliloquized exclamations he made while en route, were more forcible than elegant. e arrived at the mining-camp early the next forenoon and opened up bis ‘‘ shop,” and while he attended to current business his mind was by no means idle, When the duties of the da went at once to the hotel, an Lord Clifford. A maid answered his knock, and informed him that Lord Clifford was not in. ; As she did not invite him to enter and await his return he went back to the ‘‘ shop,” and, throwing himself on a bunk behind the counter, was soon in the arms of Morpheus. ; For hours he slept soundly,.but was finally awakened by some one slapping him smartiy upon the cheek. : Opening his eyes he beheld two men standing beside him, both of whom wore long beards, evidently false, and masks before their eyes. — True to a natural crafty instinct born in him, Moses Monk next turned his eyes upon their clothing and made a discovery. Move he could not, because his hands and feet were securely bound with cords. 3 “Vel, vot you vant?” he demanded, surveying them with unflinching gaze. ‘‘Vot you mean py all dis foolishness mit me?” > “Waal, neow, Il reckon we're hyar tew see ye on business, an’ thort we couldn’t find ye enny more at liberty than sum sech a time as this!” one of the men drawled out in an unnatural voice, ‘*Oh! shut oop!” Moses retorted. ‘* Off you tink I vas a fool? I know you both, und id aind no use for you to dry op any monkey busir ness mit your voices,” . s were over he to the room of

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20 The two intruders exchanged glances, and ut- tered a grunt each of disapproval, “Well, it don’ make any difference if you door if you don’t,” was the answer. ‘‘ We're here on business, and have accomplished a part of it—that of securing some of your surplus cash, The remainder of the business is this: You know where Mary Monk is hiding with the lost child. Tell us where to find her or we will kill you ere we leave this place.” ** But dot would be murder, und you don’d vas dare gommit murder!” Moses protested, greatly alarmed, ““Oh, we don’t, eh? Do we look as if we are men to falter at the execution of any crime that would further our ends?” “Vell, no; but id von’t pay for you to kill me, pecause you got hanged, den.” ‘Oh, no fear about that. There’s been more than oné mysterious crime at McGuffin’s that no one ever got hanged for, and you can rest assured you’ve not got enough friends to con- cern themselves about your demise. Besides, we are not known to be here. Wemean busi- ness from the word, and so the quicker you tell us what we want to know, the quicker you ain’t a dead man,” ‘*T don’d vas know vere Mary Monk is at all!” “You lie, It is known you left the town night before last, and there, of course, is where you went. Itis useless to deny anything, I'll low your brains out, quicker than you can say scat! One—two—three—” “Hold on! I peg! I tell you! You follow up der drail up der river shore a number of miles, till you come to a plateau—den you climb up a steeb path, til you find von plack hole mit der rocks. Dot vas der entrance to von cave, und in dis cave you vil find Mary Monk.” ** And the child?” *¢ And the child.” “Very good. Now, then, you will do us a favor by telling us whether that is Bill Blake’s ehild or Lord Clifford's?” * That I. don’d vas can do.” “Why not?” ** Because I don’d vas know, mineself, f vent last night on purpose vor to find oud, but Mary vouldn’t tell me, If she had, I should haff got der reward from Lord Clifford to-day.” “Then it is a good thing we nailed you, to- night. You are too dangerous a customer to be at large, and must die. So say your prayers!” “Dick Drew! Darcy Drew! You dare not kill me!” ““We shall see!” one of the masked men hissed, and his upraised hand came down swiftly, : Moses Monk uttered a groan and fell to the floor dead, ‘ : The two criminals speedily left the shanty by the rear, and hurried away through the dark- hess, for the late moon had not yet risen, : They had not gone far, when two figures ap- peared around the corner of the shanty, and paused near the rear door, They were in person the figures of Rowdy Kate, and the dandy Celestial, Chin Chin, Rae Serpe = 4 “$hI” the former said, ina whisper. “Dhey’ye) one, and that ain’t all. They’ve killed the ew, Lreckon, You heard him groan,didn’t you?” ‘“ Chin Chin heares, allee samee likee Melican girl. Blood muchee git cold!” ‘*Humph! you’re a chicken, Nevertheless, all thet I keer is so ye heerd. ‘* Ye heerd, too, what ther Jew called ther galoots!” ** Of course—Chin Chin velly sharp ears.” “ Well, then, listen, We'll keep this matter quiet for the present. Mind—not a word of it, to any one, until I get ready to spring the trap, Then, as sure’s my namv is Rowdy Kate, li bring those rascals to the doom they deserve.” ‘* Allee rightee, Chin Chin do just what Melican girl slay, If Melican girl gittee any money, she dividee with Chineeman allee samee as if she was his wifee!” “Oh, you bet!” Kate said, with a laugh, The next morning the news of the mnrder of Moses Monk became known, and created more of a sensation than such a crime usually would make in the mining-camp. A coroner’s jury was at once impaneled, and brought in « verdict that he had been murdered. with a sharp knife, by some person or persons unknown, and for reasons unknown, A search was afterward made of his office, and it was discovered that all his money had been stolen, as well as a quantity of gold and diamonds be was known to possess, : Then some one mentioned that it looked very probable that, being as the money was gone, Apollo Bill the road-agent was the author of the crime, A dozen stood ready, of course, to grasp at this theory, and in a short time it had become an established fact that Apollo Bill had, in reality, committed the crime, That night, a queer looking specimen of humanity, mounted upon a queer looking speci men of a donkey, rode leisurely into the town, from out of the mountain-gulch route, ~ CHAPTER X, "ZEKIEL STROP TO THE FRONT. To begin with, his wardrobe was of the most dilapidated variety. His pants, coat and shirt. were ragged and patched to such an extent that there was scarcely a semblance of the original cloth of the garments to be seen, and the colors of the patches embraced all the various hues of the rainbow, His feet were incased in brogans of large size, and the battered wreck of a once stylish plug hat, which was plugged full of bullet-holes, was set upon the back part of his head. In face he was a decidedly peculiar-looking person, nearly all of his physiognomy Petey . covered with beard of a brick-red hue, mati and irregular in length, and his hair was of the same color and condition. _ The mule he bestrode was one of the scrawni- est of its race, And this individual drew rein in front of Madame Moree’s dance-house, from which strains of music were issuing, and gazed around him in apparent wonderment, as if it were Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son, ioe f next to impossible to credit the sense of his h ica = Waal, now, gol darn my knittin’)” b +

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en Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. _ vlaimed, slapping his fiery, much-tamed steed | here for a few days’ recreation, and I recom upon the side, ‘‘I swow tew gracious ef thet ‘far ain’t the fu’st fiddle I’ve hearn sence I left Podunk, N. H. I say, hellow, thar, fellers! be thet aire a fiddle I heer?” “You bet yer boots, Yank!” one of the out- side loungers replied, to whom the stranger bad addressed his inquiry. ‘‘ This is a dance-house, Won't ye come in?” : ‘* Waal, neow, I don’t keer ef I do, fer dancin’ aire one 0’ we side-holts, | tell ye. I swow to racious ef I ain’t bin to more corn-shuckin’ Fane up around Podunk, than ye kin shake a stick at; an’ the gals uster say I was some pun’- kins on the Fisherman’s Hornpipe an’ Money Musk, an’ sech dances.” And with this remark the stranger stepped out of his saddle and stretched himself, to get rid of the kinks of his journey. ‘OSpect how a feller can git some one tew dance with ef he goes in thar, can’t he?’ “Oh! yes, undoubtedly,” Dick Drew said, he being one of the crowd. ‘The madame is a widow, an’ I'll bet sie’ll freeze to you like hot cakes to the griddle, Come from the Hast, eh?” “Waal, now, you're shoutiu’, stranger, you aire! I’m from Podunk, New Hampshire, I am, an’ my name’s Zeke Strop—old Obediah Strop’s son, ye see. Mebbe ye know dad; he ownsa saw-mill at Podunk, an’ he’s got ther best span o’ oxen in the State; fer big pullin’. Waal, ye see one o’ the eet ena boys uster lend me yal ler novels ter read, an’ thru’ em 1 hearn tell so much consarnin’ ther gold excitement out in this country, thet I told dad there warn’t no sorter use o’ talkin’—I wouldn’t never skid anuther log till ’'d see’d a few o’ the sights *twixt hum an’ here, SoI throw’d my leg over old Mazeppa heer, an’ heer I am—dead broke, So ef any o’ you chaps want to make a poor cuss happy, I'll take straight whisky fer mine,” “ Why, of course. Whiskyis as free as water here,” Dick Drew exclaimed, foreseeing some sport ahead, ‘‘ Walk right in, Mr, Strop and have something at my expense. How many barrels do you hold, friend ’Zekiel?” “Well, I’m generally gaged at forty gallons, but I allow I overrun about ten gallons,” Zeke replied, with a grin. e then followed Dick Drew and the others into the saloon, and Drew called forth the black bottle, directing the man from. Podunk to help himself, = This Zeke proceeded. to do, by unblushing} pouring out a brimming glass, and downing it with a smack of satisfaction. ; “Well, now, gol darn my knittin’ ef thet ain’t like’ile on troubled waters, tho’ et ain't no- whar as good liker as we git up in Podunk.” “Well, here comes the madame,” Drew said. “Tl give you a good introduction, and no doubt she'll invite you to have a glass of cham- pagne.” : ; “Phew! neow that’s good of you. I like tew get acquainted, furst rate.” isa At this juncture, the music having ceased, the madame appeared behind the bar. " *‘Madame Moree,” Drew said, turning to Zeke, “ allow me to make you acquainted with the Honorable Zeke Strop, ex-mayor of the city pshire, Mr, Strop has come ade : ee mended him to your academy as the place for terpsichorean pleasures,” acknowledgment of which introduction Zeke bowed low. “Tam happy to meet you, Mr, Strop,” Mad- ame Moree assured, surveying him with a piere- ees ‘Will you have a glass of champagne, sir “Waal, neow, you bet; thatis ef you stand treat,” Zeke promptly replied. ‘‘ Vd like furst- rate to drink with you, ’ca’se how I’m darned ef ‘9 ain’t a reg’lar pictur’ o’ Deacon Tubbs’s gal, Mary Jane, who 1 used to shine around Sunday nights till the deacon booted me out fer helpin’ myself tew some o’ ther wine he used fer feedin' the church folks wi’—an’ he had a hull bar’l on it, tew. ‘Spect how, maybe, ye may hearn tel o’ Mary Jane?” Well, no—not that 1 am aware of,” the madame answered, as she stepped into a closet, soon after reappearing with a bottle of cham- pasne, which thedwarf opened, ‘‘ Drink hearty, » Mr. Strop, and'then we will adjourn to the ball- room,” “ Zeke raised the glass with a gracious griu, and the sparkling beverage was gone in an in- stant from the glass, Just whether Zeke had swallowed it or not probably none could have sworn. The madame then showed Zeke into the ball- room and introduced him to a number of lively girls, _ es (oe from ene was sets iv the midst of a hornpipe, making many grotesque figures that gonvalset the spectators i laugh- at r. But this was not long to be, He soon com- ‘plained of sleepiness, and went and took a seat in one corner, In ten minutes, to all appearances, he was fast asl] when the people began homes. f There was an expression of satisfaction on the to disperse to their -| madame’s face as she noted this, and her eager- ness seemed to increase until the last person was gone, including the barkeeper. Then she closed the shutters and locked her- self within the establishment, turning down the lights, except m the ball-room, which had no windows, : When she had done this much, she stole to- ward the a parently unconscious Yankee who still slept in his chair in one corner of the room! - Stealthy as the movements of a cat were those © of the madame as she softly approached the stranger. There was a startling glitter in her dark eyeSand an expression upon her face which boded tho Yankee no good. : Within a yard of him she succeeded in get- ting, and would have gone still closer, only that at this juncture the object of her approach sud- denly sprung to his feet, with a cry that caused the treacherous Frenchwoman to leap back in — alarm. At the same instant off came his hat, false bair and beard, 7 And the person whom this transformation revealed was none other than. Bill Blake, whom — we have seen once before, in the dance-housg heeper’s presence, ‘ = eep. The ball went on yet, for a couple of hours, —

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22 ‘* Ah!” Madame Moree gasped, when he un- masked, “Yes—ah!” he retorted, sternly. ‘‘ You find Tami still too sharp for you. My little sleight- of-hand trick fixed your drugged champagne down the outside of my throat, and no one was harmed. I presume we fully recognize each other, woman?” WY Vory probable,” the madame,replied, white with alarm at being discovered. ‘One is not ie to forget a manof your standing, Oh! Bill! ill! : “Humph! what do you mean? How dare you address me familiarily, you bad, wicked woman?” “Tam not! Ob! Bill, are we never to be any- thing to one another again?” - “Never! Think you [could ever respect you? Years ago I married you, only to learn that your fatber and brothers were counterfeiters, and were using you even after you were my wife and the mother of my child, as an accomplice to their schemes—that you were robbing me of good money, and using meas a medium for circulating their spurious stuff, regardless of the peril it brought me into. I discovered your aseness and gave you an hour to get forever out of our home. Luckily for you, you were sensible enough to go,” “What else had I to do? But, since then, I have been a better woman, and I long to come back to you and your child.” ‘““Yos, I have just had an example of your goodness to-night, It is a downright good woman who feeds an innocent greenhorn with drugged champagne. Oh! I don’t doubt your goodness, at all, As to the child, madame, [ probably have no need to tell you it is dead!” “Dead! our little child dead?” “To the world, ves. You have heard the story that one child was killed and one carried off. The saved child, if living, I have no doubt is Lord Clifford’s.” “You do not know this?” ‘*No, not for certain, and it is likely that the truth about the matter never will be known.” “J do not think so. There are persons in this town who claim to know where the servant girl and the child are concealed,” “That is merely bluff. The reward would have an offect, if there was any truth in it. But, I am talking too freely with a woman I utterly despise. Mabel Moree, we are no longer aught to each other in this life; there are no ties whatever, so far as I am concerned. to draw us toward one another. It is possible that I may some day desire to marry again, and you, likewise,” “Never! I want no divorce, nor shall you ever marry any other woman!” madame cried. “TI will yet win you back, even though you re- . sist with might and main!” with passion; she trembled in eyery limb, m ra Sh “Not if know it. You and Bill Blake have parted for good, Maude Moree, and so let it be. Above all, keep yourself aloof frora having any- thing io do with the schemes of two doomed rascals, in this town, or you will bring down upon your head the same fate that shai soon overtake them. Remembsr!” The woman replied not. Her face was white Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son, “T have said all that is neeessary at this in. terview!” Blake finally resumed, ‘‘ and you will oblige me by opening this rear door, looking well way you make no attempt to have me ar- rested. ‘* You need not fear,” the madame said, obey- ing his order. ‘‘Ido not now seek to have you arrested, as that would only lose you to me. My object in life, henceforth, is so to get the best of you, that you will be only too glad to come back to me, an humbled and obedient hus band, You are at liberty to go!” A miser to the core, was Darcy Drew; he closely guarded his moneyed possessions, by night as well as by day. e slept upon a cot- bed ia his office; at night in close proximity to an iron safe, which contained all the money that was not invested in landed property. ; The night of the events last narrated, he did not rest well, but tossed uneasily upon his bed- wrestling with dreams and visions of an un- pleasant mature, evidently, It was in the small hours when he was sud- denly startled from his sleep by a cough. He instantly sat up in bed, with an oath, grasped a revolver from under his pillow, and cocked it. The room was only dimly lighted by a ray of moonlight which streamed in through the win- dow, but he was not long in discerning the “figure of a man, standing near the door which opened into the hall. “Ha! who the devil are you?” the mine- owner cried, leveling his weapon. ‘‘ Speak quick, or I’) shoot!” : No answer, The intruder, evidently, was not inclined to you, take that!” and Drew pulled the speak, “Curse trigger, There was no report! “Take what?” the man cried, rapidly advan- eing, ‘Put up your tool, Darcy Drew, as you call yourself, and keep mum, or it will be the worse for you, because your weapon is not loaded, and mine is!” i “Curses on you!” gasped the speculator, shrinking back from the formidable six-shooter thrust toward him by a stalwart fellow clad in top boots, slouch hat and scarlet suit, and whose face was hidden behind a mask, ‘* Who are you, man?” “Who am 1?” was the grim reply—* who am I? Need you ask, Darcy Drew, alias Ben Bog- hart, alias Owl-Hye, the border rufflan—need you. ask, when you hear my voice? Iam yonr deadly foe—I am Apollo Bill the Road-Agent, and I am Bill Blake, the man-hunter. Yow are the man I’ve been hunting for years'” CHAPTER XI. APOLLO MAKES A LIFT, “Mercy!” Drew gasped, as he heard the words of themasked intruder. ‘What do you want here, Bill Blake?” _ . “Not your life, this time, brute in the guice_ of man, although I bave sworn to take it!” Apollo Bill said, calmly, as he seated bimself

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, - Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. ~ upon the office table, bis weapon all in readiness for use. ‘‘T just dropped in to let you know I have found you, and that by no earthly flight can you ever again evade me, I see you’re in somewhat better circumstances now than when you used to be known as Owl-Hye, the sheriff.” “Of course. I do not know what you mean, however.” “Bah! I know you perfectly well— God knows. Do you think I could ever coreel you, when it was you, vile wretch, who fired my home, killed and burned my poor old mother, and tore the scalp from the head of one of my children? Curses eyer rest upon you and yours, Ben Boghart, until the twelfth day of June!— then, look you out for my vengeance, for it shall surely smite you. Tell me, man—which child was it your fiendish crueity murdered?— tell me, Ben Boghart!” ‘How should I know, when I never saw enough of the devilish young ’uns to tell them apart? You may rest assured if I knew which was which, I—” ‘‘Hal I anticipate you. If you knew which was which, you would produce the remaining ebild and make some money out of it. No! no! you will never succeed in that game, my fine rascal. You'll find that Apollo Bill stands ready to balk you at every turn. Tell me, where is Mary Monk and the living child, for iam satis- fied you know!” “T do not know, nor would I tell youif I did, You thought Moses Monk knew, evidently, when you killed him, but found out different, it seems.” “What! dare you accuse me of that crime, committed, I’ve no doubt, by yourself? I say you do know the whereabouts of Mary Monk and the child, and [Pll give you just ten minutes to tellme! If you refuse, either you open your safe there, and hand me over your hoarded -eash, or I'll blow your brains out!’ : “* Were you to kill me a thousand times, ye could never make me disclose the hiding of the child, which shall never be yours. ou hear me?” ‘‘T am not deaf—you hear me, too! If you don’t unlock and open that safe inside of five minutes, [’ll put a chunk of lead into you in- stanter. So go ahead, without noise, Remem- ber the time—five minutes!” Drew gazed at the imperturbable individual confronting him—then at his safe. Be doubted not that Blake would do just as he had promised; he knew, of old, that it had ever been one of his characteristics to perform what he promised. Once more he glanced at Apollo Bill, as he now stood grim and threatening—there was not an expression of pity or relaxation upon his face—nothing there but hatred and undying resolution. ! “Come!” Blake spoke. But a single word it was, yet it decided Darcy rew. Getting of? the bed, he knelt before his safe and proceeded to unlock it. To aid him Apollo The latter soon had the door unlocked and onane open, and the interior of the safe was re- vealed, “That looks business-like!” Apollo Bill said, dryly. ‘‘ Now haul out everything, and count out your cash to me, so that I can see how much you have.” Drew obeyed. He had gone so far—there was no use of his backing out now. So he proceeded to count out his nbacks and gold, until everything was included, and the result was: Seventy thousand dollars. “Humph! that is a strange coincidence!* Apollo Bill said. ‘* Now that I remember it, that is the sum you robbed old uncle Jones of, down at Santa Fe, through misrepresentation in a rascally business transaction—on your part. I got to Santa Fe shortly after you left, heard of your big swindle, and told the old gent, who was in destitute circumstances, that if I ever ran across you, ’'d make you pony over every cent, and send it back to him. And that is que what Ishall do with this money. Hand it to me! Drew obeyed with an oath. “You'll regr&t this, curse you!” he gritted, savagely. “ You and I haven’t squared accounts et. me Truly spoken!” Apollo Bill retorted, with a chuckle, ‘‘and until I get ready for you, June 12th, take that!” F And as he received the money with one hand, he dealt the ex-border ruffian a blow between the eyes with the other, that laid him out, senseless upon the floor. Then, with a laugh, Apollo Bill leaped through a. window he had left open on entering, and was gone! As a matter of course, the next mornin, Darcy Drew had an interview with his adop' son Dick, and the events of the preceding night were narrated, “We are ruined!” the elder Drew—as we shall still continue to call him—said, ‘‘The money that I gave him was all that is really ours in the world, for you are aware that Moses Monk held a mortgage for every cent my interest in the mines was worth. That mort- gage is long overdue, and the succeeding heir will likely foreclose it, which will leave us pen- niless,. Thatelore. something must be done,” “The deuce, yes. Where will all my good clothes and spending-money come from?” Dick growled oe ie f “To be sure. doubt if you’ve got enough gumption to earn your own salt, if it wasn’t for me,” “ Thank you. We shall see, By the way, who is the heir to Moses Monk’s property?” ‘The girl Mary, nodoubt. We failed to find any papers. The appointed executor, Mark Shelby, has likewise failed, and will hold the pro een year before disposing of it.” : e ““We must no longer put off peas aoe girl, and see what we can do with her. If I am not mistaken, we can work her so as not only to~ \

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24 een Dick Drew, the Miner’s Som get possession of the kid—which means a reward of ten thousand dollars—but also the mortgages and other papers of Moses Monk. So much to be done, and then we are once more on our feet again. “* Indeed—if we succeed! That’s the thing to consider, We've been having so devilish much oad luck of lete that it looks as if we were on she wrong groove.” ** Pooh! a little bad luck ought not to dis- courage us. J mean to realize out of the kid. | te ape dollars alone will give us quite a ‘** How do you propose to reach the place where Mary Monk and the child are living?” ‘* By boat.on the river. I would not go by the trail, lest they may have some ono on guard to notify them of our approach.” : Very well, What will you do with them after getting them?” “Take them to the wooded island just a mile was here, It wiJl be a capital retreat for us all. About as hot-headed an Englishman as ever existed was Lord Henry Clifford, He was fathered by astern and aristocratic old nobleman, who never forgave or forgot an injury. It was but natural then, that Lord Henry should inherit some of his father’s quali- ties, among which was the one of not forgetting or forgiving an injury. He considered that he had been done a terrible . wrong, and his blood boiled for redress, When he had visited the deserted farm some maliciously -disposed m had hinted to him that Blake had an object, and a prime one too, in burning his home and having his famil massacred, as he had not long before had all their lives insured, from which he must, of course, have realized a handsome sum, Of course this was utter nonsense and villain- ous meauness; but Lord Clifford accepted it, as he saw no one else to deny the story while in that neighborhood. ‘The man then whom he had aided and trusted was a wretch without parallel, The day thatineluded the events last narrated, he made up his mind to break the monotony, by going into the mountains for a hunt, Lady Theresa entered the room, just as he was about to start. is “What! are you going out, my lord?” she asked, in surprise. ‘ f “Yes, I’m off for a little hunt. Mayhap Tl bring you back a grizzly cub, for a poodle.” ‘*Mayhap, you will not return at all, my lord, for the road-agents are growing so bold, that everybody fears them,” “Well, lam not afraid, If, however, I should not return, why, I have left enough money in my bureau, here, to defray your expenses back to England,” “Tn that case, I suppose, the search for little Lady Maude would cease?” ** Very likely, yes, for you would not natur- ally care to interest yourself in a continuation of the search,” by te -Iady Theresa colored—grew e—then individual replied, “ iualios; angrily: Pr te ea Pe : known bereabouts, tho’, as Apollo BM!” “Thank you, Lord Clifford. As you say, it cannot avail me anything to hunt up an out- law’s child, and make her lady of Clifford's Cliff, when by right of entailment, everything comes to me, after the death of sweet little Maudie whose sad fate occurred nearly twa years ago, Good-day, sir!” Then, with flashing, indignant eyes, she swept from the room wlth regal hauteur, Lord Clifford turned and gazed after her with a Prolonged whistle of surprise, Ww 2b et beast bees Hele ever saw an ex! On Oo; eresa’s temper, he remarked, mausiaaly, i: v6 been pele ane some, however, since coming here, and haye noticed a Nei Slag carelessness on her pars. as to whether Dever succeed i finding Maude, or not, Something tells me some one has been talking to her—at any rate, she is right, If I die, now, she wins; but, I must not die! With his mind busied with these, and similar thoughts, he left the hotel, and wandered, on foot, into the mountains. In the beginning he followed the stage route through the gulch; but finally struck off up a path among the wooded peaks and crags. 7 For hours he rambled on, occasionally shoot- ing a bird or rabbit, until the sun’s position in the sky indicated that it was past noon. Then, he was about to turn back, when he caught sight of a young bear upon a crag ahead. of him, and likewise far above. s If shot, it would fall upon the rocks not far in front of him. Raising his rifle, he fired, Sure enough the animal tumbled off the ledge, but, instead of falling upon the rocks, disap~ — peared from view. { Running ahead a number of rods, Lord Clif- ford came to the edge of a deep ravine, and saw the bear lying at the bottom—half a hundred feet below at least. 2 So sheer was the descent at the point where he was standing, that he had to search fora place less steep, ere he could go down, He soon came to where a path descended through a thicket, and, following its course, ae out into the gulch within sight of the ear. To his astonishment, as he advanced he saw a man engaged in skinning the beast—a man clad in elaborate buckskin and slouch hat, but whose back was turned to Lord Clifford. ‘* Well, by Jove! that is cool! I wonder if he knows who killed that bear,” his lordshi growled, his anger rising. ‘I don’t usually ki game for others to appropriate.” ; And, grasping his rifle, he strode toward the © bear, quickly, As be heard some one approaching, the man a who was skinning the animal arose and faced | — about. Then he uttered an exclamation of sur- prise. 3 Lord Clifford duplicated it, and came to a standstill, “Bill Blake!” he ejaculated, bis features grow= q ing stern in their expression. “Yes, my Lord Clifford, I am Bill Blake, at : your service!” that. :

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Dick Brew, the Miner’s Son, CHAPTER XII. WOWDY KATE WINS AND LADY THERESA LOSES, THE recognition was mutual, For several minutes neither spoke; but at last Lord Clifford found voice: “ William Blake,” he said, sternly—‘t William Blake, at last we face each otber—the very thing I have been praying for the many days past since I discovered your treachery!” “Tam aware you sou ht to meet me, sir, and am sorry for it,” Apollo Bill returned, ; “ Why sorry—because you hated to face me in all your guilt, William Blake?” “What? Of what am I guilty? Tell me _ that!” “ Guilty? Why, you accursed villain, have fn the face to ask me that? Guilty of what? hy, of hiriig a dozen ruffians to burn your 2osey home, wherein perishea your aged mother and either your or my little ehild—the child I mtrusted to your safe-keeping. Why, you are ® monster!” ‘Lord Clifford, you are an unmitigated liar” “ Sir? and his lordship’s hand sought the side- pocket of his coat, “ T repeat it—you are a liar, sir! You have aecused me of something no other man thought of doing—the murder of my own family. Be- fore I deny such a thing, pray tell me what ob- ject could I have in killizg those I loved?” ‘Money, Sir Road-agent--money, a’greed for which has led you to the position you now occu- py. You insured the lives of all your family * against death, and it was not your fault that the other child was not consumed, so that you could draw the insurance on its life!” ‘And so you, a man of ordinary good sense and enlightenment, have the assurance to make a gross charge against me like this?” : ‘Thave. You are a wretch and a rascal, and shall answer to me for the betrayal of the trust L imposed in you.” * And you, sir, whom I once believed to be a gentleman, are «har and a coward, whom I would be very glad to accommodate with satis- faction, If your tongue had not run away with your wits, I could explain much since we have met. As it is, unless you apologize, we are henceforth enemies!” ; “So be it, then. Far better to know a man of your stamp as an enemy than as a friend. As for apologizing to a man like you, or any man, in fact, it 1s wholly out of the question.” \ ‘Then I suppose we may as well fight it out here as anywhere. I presume you know how to handle a revolver, eh?” : *“ Probably! But I do not even intend to bandy words or fight a duel with: you. I here- by kill you with less torture than you killed my child!” i 2 And even while speaking there was a pistol report, though Lord Clifford did not take bis pistol from his pocket, and Apollo Bill fell to the ground. rats A faint streak of blood upon his forehead told where the bullet bad glanced against the skull, and produced instant insensibility—for Apollo Bill did not stir after he fell. “Wal I thought the much-lauded scoundrel ‘would some day find aman who would be too ‘auch for bim!” Lord Clifford muttered, step- with bim yourself. ping nearer to the prostrate victim vf his treachery. ‘‘He’s paid the penalty of his Soba sooner than he had any thought of, curse im But a quiver in the muscles of Apollo Bill’s face, an instant later, undeceived him. aS No, he is not dead, The bullet did not kill it only stunned him. But that matters not. I have a bitter wrong to avenge, and have sworn to avenge it, and there is no time like the pres- ent in which to do it. William: Blake, if one shot will not kill you, another will!” ; And with these words the vindictive man drew arevolver and pressed the muzzle of it against the temple of Apollo Bill, but before Le could pull trigger he received a blow on the head with a club that felled him to the ground. He was not deprived of his senses, however, and immediately struggled to his feet, to, be nies by no less a persovage than Rowdy ate ‘Hello! didn’t expect me, did you?” she cried, ber eyes flashing. ‘* Well! well! Lord Clifford! Iam truly ashamed of you. Not satisfied with having nearly killed this man, who never did you any wrong, you sought to finish your cow- ardly crime before he should awaken to take his own part. Wh¥, cuss my boots! d’ye know what I’ve a mind to do?’ and she whipped a re- volver from her belt. **f can surmise, but I know you won’t do that, In so doing you would be wronging your friend here, who ] know would prefer to settle with me personally.” nee “Well, et’s Iucky so. I know he'll make it hot fer you, or else ’d make your heart stop beatin’ right here. An’ now Pll give you just about ten seconds to turn your pedals and stoot! D’ye hear?” ** As you have the advantage, I must submit to the inevitable,” Clifford said, ‘* But Jook out for me—we shall meet again!” ; He turned away, and Kate watched him until he was out of sight, then followed him until she came in sight of him again, and saw that be was still traveling away toward McGuflin’s, Satisfied that he had no purpose of returning, she returned to where Apollo Bill still lay un- conscious. ss Searching about, she soon found water, and filling the cup at her belt she went back and .~ bathed the road-agent’s forehead and poured some water between bis lips, 9 Then, by rubbing and chafing his hands, she soon had him restored to consciousness, and he sat up and gazed about him, for the moment be © wildered, ; ; * Ah! I see!” he exclaimed, feeling of his fore head. ‘The treacherous devil came near doing for me, Where is he? How came you here, Rowdy Kate?” Pe Mas ha ; Ob! T happened along, just in time to baffie him!" Kate grinned; then she proceeded to ex- pe Blake the while listening attentively, bis andsome faee growing sterner add his eyes gleaming. ** And Kate was through. “You bet! an’ [ only let bim off alive when he su that may pe East prefer to settle m0 h} by: a _ he did that, eh?” he demanded, when — azes, you bet Pd — : ag eels EY

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. ’a’ paralyzed his heart-strings ef it hadn’t bin for that.” “You are a good girl, Kate, and I respect you for your bravery. Moreover, Towea great deal to you for saving my life!” “No ye don’t—not a cent, nor I ain’t the tenth part of a good girl, an’ you bet on it. All thar was of it, he was goin’ to play the knave, when I stepped in with the ace of clubs and turned a trump!” “And won, Well, I shall always be grateful to you. You are alone in the world, Kate— there must be a history connected with your life. Will you tell it to me?” ‘“Mebbe some time. But not now. i must get back to McGuffin’s yto-night, where some- thing may occur in which I am interested. So, if you feel recovered, I will leave you.” “Oh! yes; I’m all right now. If you must g0, good-by, and I hope for further acquaintance in the near future, if so be you are wi ling.” After Lord Clifford’s departure Lady Theresa went out, ostensibly for a stroll about the camp, but,in reality,in hopes of seeing Dick Drew. Somehow of late she had been very nervous and ill at ease ~by no meansin the humor that ad swayed her on coming to McGuffin’s. The seeds planted in her mind by the oily tongue of Dick Drew had taken root, in spite of her heart struggles to do what was right. ' Had he uot told tha truth, she argued? If little Lady Maud was found she would, of . course, be Lord Clifford’s sole heir to an estate worth one hundred thousand pounds at the least. What, then, would be her—Lady The- resa’s—fate! Probably she would not be actually ousted from Castle Clifford, but she would not, natu- rally, have the same liberties, nor the same moneys, nor the same attention that she had so long enjoyed. There would be no more London season, in all probability, and many less admir- ers, when it came to be known that she was dowerless catch instead of a golden one. : The thought was gall and worrawood to her, tha more she considered it, and all_interest she had at first had in Lady Maud’s recovery, gradu- ally died out, and in its place grew the hope that she would never be found. ** Dick Drew told. me he knew where the child was—th it my hand, in marriage, to him, meant the reign of a lifetime for me, at Clifford’s Clift. _lf he spsaks truly, why should I not ac- cept him? He is not a bad-looking person, and seams to have both tha education and the man- ners of a gentleman. If I could marry, and tolerate him, until I could find out the where- abouts of the child, and—and—well, dispose of her, then, [ could perhaps, manage to get rid of my husband, and choose again, from rank and nobility, It isa desperate thing to do—I shall have cutiloose from uncle and his support—the quostion is, will it pay?” This was the question she had been .agitating for several days. She walked about for some time, finally going down to the river-Lank, where she met Dick Drew, who was lounging there. He arose, re- spectfully, as he saw her approach, and stood ' gazing at her, curiously, . j StS patina eg data - eee a baler ‘*Good-afternoon, Mr. Drew,” she greeted him, bowing. ‘ Were you fishing?” “Ob! no; I was merely fe away time, by watching the water. suppose you have come down to sail for Africa have you not?” She flushed, and then turned her vexation into a laugh. ‘*T appreciate your taunt, sir; I perhaps de. serve it. Do you know that I have been seeking for you?” “No, I was not aware of it.” ‘Well I have, and what do you think [am going to propose to you?” ‘* Well—I—I really can’t say. That I go and commit suicide?” “Oh! no;.far from that. I have been con- sidering the proposition you made me, the other night, and I’ve made up my mind to give you my hand in marriage!” **Ob! you have?” : “*'Yes, on conditions that you can prove to me eat you know the whereabouts of Lord Cliff srd’s cebild. 3 “But, that I cannot do, without going miles: and miles from here, and taking you with me, Therefore, all I have to offer you is my word ot honor, To-morrow, unless before that time J make other arrangements, I shall start to fetch; the child, and receive from its father, the sum of twenty thousand dollars,” “Front Lord Clifford?’ and Lady Theresa suddenly paled, “Ofcourse. Wecame toa bargain, this morn- ing. You know twenty thousand dollars is a snug little sum of money?” ‘ “Bah! It is buta trifle. You said if you dit not make previous arrangements, Does thay mean you are ready to marry mie, and keep the child forever in seclusion?” ““Té does, I am ready to carry out to the letter, the plan T first proposed to you.” “Then, come. Let us at once go before a magistrate, and be marfied, with the under- standing that I am your wife, and you are to support me, until by the demise of Lord Clif- - ford, we come into possession of his wealth.” _ “Certainly. There is an ordained. minister working in one of our mines who will tie the knot‘in good shape, and after we are married, we can laugh at his eta: Tt will be like losing a link in the golden chain of fortune, to him, Dick Drew then took her to his father’s house, where he left her, while he went to make all necessary preparations, ; ? In a short time he returned with a rough- looking miner, who, equipped with a book, r ad to them the Episcopal marriage service, and in- side of five minutes Dick Drew and Lady The- resa Tremaine were man and wife! And, within an hour after that, nearly every: one in MeGuffin’s knew of it! CHAPTER XIII. A DOUBLE GAME OF VILLAINY. Lorp Ciirrorp heard of it on his return to McGuffin’s, and, swelling with rage, he went at . once to the Drew mansion. Darcy Drew himself answered the summons, _ “Ts my niece here, im your house?” Lord Clifford demanded, savagely. ou ameter aay >

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Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. a “<Not that I am aware of, sir. Whoare you?” the elder Drew asked, with a yawn, “fam Lord Henry Clifford, and I hear reports that my niece has married your foster-son, I want to kuow if it is true!” “ Quite true, sir, They are married and gone. I know no more about it, sir,” and with this by- no-means-comforting assurance, he slammed the door in Lord Clifford’s face, leaving that indi- vidual in a turmoil of passion and uncertainty. And that was all he could learn, No one knew whether Dick Drew and his bride had left town or not. Some thought they had sloped, while others ‘* poohed ” at the idea. Lord Clifford went to his hotel and delib- erated, R ‘‘ Let them go,” he muttered. ‘‘ For the sake of future inheritance, she has allied herself with a rascal who claims to know where my ebild is, “If he does indeed know where she is, it is their purpose either to put her out of the way, or keep her for life in obscurity. But, we shall see. I may get possession of her yet, in spite of them, and then we shall see who will triumph!” Later, that evening, he received a call from Madame Moree. She was elegantly attired, and_ looked really attractive. ‘ Ihave just heard the news of the fair Lady Theresa’s great mistake, and want to tell you how much I sympathize with you,” she said, as he handed her a chair. ‘‘Then you think she has made a _ mistake, eh?” Lord Clifford asked, regarding her curi- ously. “Oh! certainly, my lord. It was a great mesalliance. Young Drew isa fellow with no heart, feeling or principle, and no one likes him, He simply married your niece, hoping, should . not your child be found, that he would realize -ame. ‘ ze handsomely from your wealth.” ““SoTam aware. Do you think he has posses- sion of my child?” “No, but he may have, within twenty-four hours,” “* What makes you think so?” “* Because, he as good as admitted that he was going to get possession of the child, and wanted me to come to a certain place and take care of it.” ‘* Ab! then there, must be something in his as- sertion that he knew her whereabouts. Madame, could you be induced to tell me the place they wanted you to go to?” “No,” was the reply; ‘I could not do that,” ‘“Then can you, still better, accept of the posi- tion they offered you and get possession of the child and surrender it to me? well to do so,” iS “‘T will consider your proposition, Lord Clif- ford, and give you an answer at an early date. will now bid you good-evening.” And she arose and took her leave. _ ‘Methinks I foresee a little scheme cropping out, origivated in the fertile brain of the mad- f she gets the child in her possession, she is the very woman to aspire to lofty position as reward for yielding up her Bott Oh! E why am JI thus persecuted and plotted against, when I only seek my lost darling?” That night when darkness reigned supreme Wan Sa = 5 ee t will pay you | 27 owing to the fact that the heavens were over- cast with the clouds of an impending storm, the Drews, younger and elder, silently left their house, and made their way cautiously to the water's edge. There were but few lights burning in the shanties, it being after ten o’clock, and the two night-hawks had little trouble in avoiding being seen, At the water’s edge, a skiff or small boat was beached. This was pushed off and entered. Darcy Drew taking the oars headed the boat up-stream, ‘Well get a drenchin’, 1’ll bet!” Dick growl- ed, keepin himself well enveloped in a rubber coat. ‘‘ It’s going to be a blamed rough night!” “Just the ge for our business,” the elder Drew grunted, with satisfaction. ‘‘ Allus select a night like this, for nefarious business, if you wish to succeed. The jouder the din the greater surety of success.” And the thunder was not lacking. It soon came in deep detonating tones, one clap follew- ing another until there seemed to be one con- stant pounding, jarring cannonade of sound. The lightning flashed and flitted in vivid zig- zags, now and then making plain to view the . little skiff with its two Serapenis. Rain soon came down, in torrents, whereupon the thunder and lightning grew less frequent, While Darcy Drew manipulated the oars, Dick took advantage of the flashes to scan the shore for the widening of the trail, and the cave entrance in the mountain-side, of which Moses Monk had Becker At last be discovered it, and directed his father to pullin to shore. “The next thing is, how are we going to work this little game?’ Dick said. ‘‘ It will be dangerous to enter the cave boldly, as she may be on the watch and lay for us!” “T have thought of all that, and planned accordingly,” the elder Drew exclaimed. ‘‘ We will land, and climb to the ledge, in front of the ceve. Here. we will make an ar; ument, the drift of which will be that Bill Blake sent us for Mary Monk and the girl, and that you are afraid, and so forth. She will no doubt over- hear us and listen, and on finding we come from Blake, will be ready to go to him,” . ‘How know you this?” j “Easy enough. She used to be in love with Blake, and he was kind to her, and you can bet she would be glad to get back to him.” “T comprehend. For ideal scheming you are unsurpassed !” Dick said, They pulled in to the shore, and fastened their boat; then they began the ascent of the mountain, It was no easy job,.and considerable time was - occupied in reaching the ledge. Here the two villains became seated and lit their pipes. ““T tell ye, I don’t like that job,” Dick Drew growled, in a loud tone. “Ef the captain | wanted the gal, why the blazes didn’t he come fer her himself? Furst ye know, she'll pop us over, ‘“*Pooh! what ye skeered at? Cap knows bis biz, you bet! Didn't he say as how et would be all right? Well, I opine he did, that, He sed

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28 @ Dick Drew; the Miner’s Son, as how the gal, Mary Monk, used ter be in his’ employ, when he was known as Bill Blake, and that.as he an’ her war good friends, he felt cer- tain she would want ter see him, pow.” ‘Vas; I kno’ he did, but the gal not knowin’ this, is likely ter take us fer enemies, instead 0’ friends, an’ give us an ounce or two o’ cold lead, instead o’ a warmer reception.” “Git out! She'll be tickled nigh to death, when she finds out Blake sent fer her.” ‘““Waal, mebbe. How did he find out she war ineer?” “Dunno, ’cept that be found et out down at che minin’ earap ites ‘You think he’s struck on the gal, eh?” i s ‘Pears to me so, He’s allus talkiu’ about er. Then there was a pause, during which the two villains puffed away at their pipes vigor- ously, while Mary Monk was standing just be- hind them, in the cave entrance, with pale, frightened face, scarcely breathing lest they should bear her, She was armed; practice had made her a good shot. Why, then, should she not make her presence known? **Gentlemen!” she said, holding her weapon in readiness, The two Drews wheeled in great surprise. “Hold! ma’am; don’t fire!” the older ex- claimed, ‘' We’re friends,” “T overheard your conversation, Who are you?” “Waal, mum, were what air commonly known as road-agents, an’ we belong to Apollo Bill’s gang.” “Exactly, and, judging by your conversa- tion, you were sent here to capture me?” “ No, mum—not to capture you, but ter fetch yo back to our captain’s camp, ef you were willin’.” k “ Am I to understand that your captain sent for me?” “Yes, mum.” th And your captain’s name is William Blake, is it? “ ‘Yes, mum.” ‘Where is this camp located?” “Waal, [dunno as I’m right to tell, but see- in’ as you an’ the capt’in aire friends, I dunno _as there is any harm in tellin’ you. Et’s on an island in the river, below McGuffin’s, whar no one hes ever tho’t 0’ lookin’ fer us.” Mary was silent several moments, “T ‘believe I will go with you,” she said, finally, ‘for I desire very much to see your eins You will please wait here until [am ready. . With this she re-entered the cavern. In the course of half an hour she reappeared, carrying a child in her arms. ‘Lead on, and I will follow,” she said. They obeyed without demur. Tt had stopped raining, and the clouds over- ‘head were gradually breaking away, but it was still dark, On reaching the river, Dick Drew helped Mary and her charge toaseat in the stern of the boat, while he took up his station at the prow, and his foster-father again held the oars. The frail craft was soon gliding swiftly along with the current, like a thing of life. McGuffin’s was passed, and, half an hour later, the boat ran upon the sandy beach of a small island, ‘Here we are!” Dick Drew announced, leap- ing out followed by his father; ‘‘allow me to assist you out.” Mary allowed him to lift her out, but it was a fatal action. His arms clutched about her, and while he thus held her, despite her struggles, the elder Drew securely bound her, hand and foot, thrust a gag into her mouth, and blindfolded her. He then took her from Dick’s arms and car- ried her into the depth of .the woods, Dick fol-. lowing with the screaming child. They soon came to a log cabin, which they en- tered, to find themselves in a rudely furnished apartment, where a fire was burning and light was furnished by a torch, Madame Moree sat by the fire, but arose, as they entered. ‘We've caught the bird, and you are her jailer!” Drew, Sr,, said, as he thrust Mary into an inner room, and locked the door. ‘* The kid you can keep here. We shall be here, again, in a couple of days, to perfect our arrangements, It is perfectly understood between us?—you are staying here, as jaileress, at a salary of a hup+ dred a week!” “* Wxactly |’? madame assented. “Then, we must be off, and back to camp ere it is daylight. Look well to your charges!” Madame Moree was good for her word, as long as that night lasted, but that was all. The next morning she left the island in a boat, and took the child with her, About an hour after her departure, a boat was beached upon the island, and Darcy Drew and Dick stepped therefrom,.and plunged into the forest. Fitteea minutes afterward, another boat reached the island, and two more persons dis- embarked. CHAPTER XIV, CONCLUSION. Tue latter boat had Janded several rods fur- ther down the beach, in a little inlet, and conse- — quently out of sight of the first boat. The occupants were Rowdy Kate and the Trail Tornado, Apollo Bill. “T hope you are right, but I fear that this is a wild-goose chase,” the road-agent said, as they disembarked. ‘I don’t believe Mary Monk and the child are on this island.” a Kate ex: — ary Monk | person — _came from the direction of the cabin, Ee ‘* By blazes! some one’s hurt, an’ that’s cere — tain!” Kate cried. ‘‘Come, let’s make a rush!”

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Leena c _é |Diek Drew, the Miner’s Son. Accordingly they dashed forward, and into the cabin through the oven door. But they paused near the threshold—paused aghast at what met their gaze. Upon the floor in front of them, bound hand and foot, and gagged, lay Mary Monk, her face distorted with the pain of acute suffering. Her back had been bared, and was one intri- cate mass of bleetling cuts, evidently: inflicted by a bull-wbip, which lay near at hand. Botb Bill and Rowdy Kate were atuer side an instant later, cries of horror breaking from their lips, and Bill gently raised her head upon his lap. Mary! Mary! do you know me?” he asked, bending over her, an ee her on the lips. “ Speak to me, Mary—I am Bill—Bill Blake! The sound of his voice seemed to arouse her, and she opened her eyes and gazed up into his face. “Ts it you, Master Bill? Oh! thank God!” she murmured, gazing at him wistfully, “I haveso long wished to see you, Bill—I—I have spent all these years, faithful to you, Bill, know- ing we should meet sooner or later.” “God bless you, Mary! I always knew you were a good, trues girl, But you are hurt, Mary —you have been cruelly abused! Tell me who is the wretch who did this devilish brutality?” A shudder passed through her frame before she answered. ‘“Yes, I bave been killed—I have been mal- treated until I am dying. Oh! Bill, it was awful, but it is all over now. They captured me and brought me here last night, and placed mein charge of a woman who told me her name was Madame Moree, and that she was going to’ take the child to Lord Clifford. This morning she left, and not long afterward Ben Boghart and another ruffian came. They found the child gone, and were furious. They swore if I did not tell them whose child it was. they would beat me to death. Of course I refused, and they treated me so brutally that 1 partly fainted. Believing me dead, they hurried me off a short time before you came.” i “Then, Mary, my brave girl, hear me swear here, and before High Heaven, that your wrongs shall be avenged!” Apollo Bull cried, sternly. ‘Kate will stay here with you until I send back a boat to convey you to McGuffin’s, where I will haye arrangements made for your comfort. But first, Mary, before it is too late, tell me—is the child you have watched over and guarded so faithfully mine or Lord Clifford's?” * Bill—thank God—it is yours! The child has been carefully reared, and knows her own name, Nelly Blake !” cae ; , Then she sunk back, exhausted. With tears rolling down his cheeks, Apoilo Bill kissed ber once more; then calling Rowdy Kate aside, he addressed a few words to her in aj low tone, after which he took his departure. Madame Moree went straight from the Island * to MeGuffin’s and to the réom of Lord Clifford, fut she did not take the child with her, His lord- ship was engaged in reading, but he arose and greeted her pleasantly. » . Well, I supppes you have come to bring me news?” he said. . “Yes, I have,” she replied. ‘TI toox wor ad- vice and went into the employ of Dick Syrew and his foster-father, and as a result I bave obtained possession of your child.” ‘* Very well: so far, so good. Now, then, how do you know it is my ehild?” “Very well. The Drews made Mary Monk confess the truth, and she stated that it was Lord Clifford’s child she had taxen with her, on the night of the fire at the farm-house.” ‘Madame Moree, are you lying to me?’ ‘Lord Clifford, I am not.” “Then why do you not produce the child?” The madame smiled. “You must remember, my lord, that there is a consideration to be agreed upon.” “Ah! of course. I am perfectly willing to pay tb a fair compensation, but of course, you could not reasonably e tme to pay you the rewards I have offered, as they were merely baits to gain information.” i ‘*T presumed you were the kind of a @.2 to back your own propositions. Howevez, shat matters not to me, as it is not money I Wi.” * Not money?” “No, not money. I have another price <han money, Lord Clifford, you shall know of it. As the case stands, you shall have it. I, Matame Moree, the last surviving’ member of the once distinguished Moree family of Paris, have come into Pope of pane only child, little Lad Maude Clifford, sole heiress of Clifford Cliff, England. To you this child is all in all, for were she to die, Lady Theresa would succeed te your estate, in event of your death, and Dick Drew would wear your shoes, Therefore, it is, of course, important to you that your child comes to light as your heir and successor, ‘ ‘“ Now, lam not a bad woman, but as J told you, I have to live by my wits, and never to let an opportunity to make money slip by, On coming into possession of your child, I. drugged her with a peculiar poison, of which I always have a supply, and took her to a place of safety until [ could come and see you. This drug has but one antidote, and I doubt if a physician in America understands it. If allowed to sleep two hours from now, she will be dead. You will therefore readily perceive that I have the destiny of your heir all in my own hands.” ‘My God! Heaven help her!” Lord Clifford gasped, covaring his face with his hands, “Woman! devil! goon and name your price!” he added after a moment’s pause. “will do so. My price is your hand in mar- riage within half an hour!” “Great Heaven! are you mad?” “Not in the least. You can do as you please, I will goand bring the child here, and a minister. When I am joined to youin wedlock the child shall have the antidote. You can have a few ‘minutes to consider; in the mean time, I will bring the child!” And, with a mocking courtesy, she swept from the room, leaving the nobleman pacing — the floor, with a pale face and wildly glaring — eyes, ; Madame went down-stairs to the hotel office, “There is a miner here who is an ordained hr oc

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30 ' minister, is there not—working in a mine or somewhere?” she asked of the clerk at the bar, ~ Yes’; ’spect John Doe does thet kind o’ business, but ye cay’t git him off durin’ workin’ hours. *Spect we can fix ye, tho’, fer yonder's a new arrival sittin’ over thar who registers as the Reverend Simeon Shaver. Better go tackle him.” Madame gazed at the individual indicated a moment sharply—then walked over to him, Ale was a good-sized man, respectably dressed, wita a long gray beard, and wore a plug hat. “*Hixcuse me,” madame said, ‘' but I was told that you are an ordained minister. Is that true?” f ‘*'Yes’m,” was the reply, in a squeaky voice, “that is my calling.” ‘Than prepare yourself to marry a couple on my return, and you will be well paid.” Then tho madame left the hotel, In twenty minutes she returned, carrying an avparently sleeping child in her arms, and mo- moe the minister to follow her up-stairs, which e did, _ They both entered Lord Clifford’s room, and madame laid the child upon the bed, and said: “*There is your child, my lord, and bere”— holding up a small vial—‘‘is the antidote that will save hor life. See! I lay it on the table, within my reach! Marry me, and I will let you give the contents to your child. Refuse, and I will smash the vial into atoms.” “Stop! I have made up my mind to save my S tebe life at all hazards!” his lordship cried, The minister took out his book and read over a marriage service, after which he asked the usual questions, and, later, pronounced Lord Clifford and Madame Moree man and wife. “ Now, then!” his lordship cried, ‘‘ give my child whatever will bring it back to life and sense |” Without a word the madame turned and poured the contents of the vial between the ' sleaping child’s lips, and then, waiting a few seconds, shook tho little sleeper, who readily awakened. _ “Hal hal a good trick to win a husband, but you have failed, woman!” a stern voice cried, that caused Clifford and the madame to wheel around, Ah! whattransformation was this? The minister had thrown off his false wig and beard, and Apollo Bill, fieree and accusing, stool confronting them, a revolver in either hand, _“*Lord Clifford!” he cried, ‘‘ you have been dupod, and you have to thank me that you are not in reality yonder viper’s husband, She, sir, was once my wife, and yonder, on that bed, sits the child she bore me. Your child, unfor- fortunately, perished. The author of that hein- ous crime was the elder of the two so-called Drews, of this place, from whom yon woman stole my child. If you doubt my word, you have butto ask Mary Monk, who ies at the point of death at Forbes’s shanty. It was she who escaped with my child. That is all 1 have to say, sir. I take my child and go, I warn both of you to make no attempt to hinder me, for if you do, Pll drop you.in your tracks!” { Stag ee) Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son. ’ 4 Then he quickly resumed his disguise, and taking little Nellie by che hand, backed out of the room. Neither Cliford nor madame attempted to stop him; both had had sufficient knowledge of him to assure them that it would not be best, The next day was one of tragic interest in the annals of McGuffin’s smiling town. Early in the forenoon the bodiesof Dick Drew and Lady Theresa were found in the Drew man- sion, stark and stiff! After attending to her burial, Lord Clifford left McGuffin’s, en route for his native country, asadder but wiser man in the ways of the world, The same day the body of Darcy Drew was found just outside of town suspended to the limb of a tree, and upon his breast was pinned @ paper, upon which was written the following: ‘Beware! Behold the fate of a human wretch, whose deeds brought upon bim this retribution His first crime may have been small but the older he grew the greater wretch he became, until it was necessary to elevate him to the limb of a tree, where he will bave pure air and protection from wolves. Thus ends Ben Boghart. APOLLO Binu.” After that, little was heard of the bold road- agent around Mc@uffin’s. While Mary Monk lived, he was often at her bedside, in disguise, but no more stage robberies were heard of, and his name and fame soon be- came a thing of the past in that region. _ - _ When Mary Monk died, she willed Rowdy Kate what wealth sbe had inherited by her cousin’s death, and since then, Kate has become one of the richest “catches” in the mining town upon the bend, THE END. DIME DIALOGUES.AND SPEAKERS FOR SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS AND HOME ENTERTAINMENTS. Dialogues, Nos. 1 to 84 inclusive, 15 to 25 popu: ar dialogues and dramas in each book. Each vol- ume 100 pages 12mo, Speakers, Nos. 1 to 25 inclusive, Each speaker 100 pages 12mo, containing from 50 to 75 pieces, YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES, Dime Book of Winter Sports. Dime Book of Summer Athletic Sports, Dime Gents’ Letter Writer, Dime Book of Etiquette. Dime Book of Verses. Dime Book of Dreams. 5 Dime Fortune Teller. 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+A SSMU TMM LLM LCE TT = = aaa SO =. = atin at Vo te teotetete Vp Cap Vp Cop Cop Tp 4 [IALOGUES No SPEAKERS, yS S S ‘ y oe oe PUBLISHED BY DIALOGUES, Nos to4. M. J. IVERS & CO., SPEAKERS, Nos 1 to 25. JAMES SULLIVAN, Prop’s, mm ' 379 Pearl Street, New York. THE TRADE SUPPLIED BY The American News Company, AND ITS BRANCHES. m MPM LO ULE ek LR OU Lee Ue Ete UL UL Ste eee a) a i ee CUES LS EEE Se UU TE SEE ATE DAE Ee CU ee tut tre Ode dt) 0) TO) ST) Pad a0 0D PE 0D 0 A Pd td 00d nd 2st SRB UMT UREA MIEN MUL M MYCE MALMO CREEPER LCCC LCM CE ECL EE Pe r £ on) * 1 ah eS oe ay ee > ay 4

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SHE | Deadwood Dick e Library e axtracts from the New York Evening Sun. TWO REMARKABLE in only one sense of the word can it be regarded as a aovel statement when the fact is here recorded that litera- jure has given many heroes to the world, and perhaps more than one reader will have to think a moment over thie remark. before the subtle delicacy of its genial wit strikes home, But it is most essentially a half dime novel statement shat will be news to many when it is added that litera- gure, if traced from the dimly distant days when Adam was a mere child down to the present day, would show wut few heroes that in the eyes of boyhood would be ven judged worthy of comparison with the two greatest \seroes Known to American literature, or, to promptly re- veal them, Deadwooi Dick and Deadwood Dick, Jr. eS 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 » * * {6 is but natural that their * * * should bear away the paim of popularity, and suchas * * * be left ‘ar behind in the race, it can be easily believed, therefore, that the two Dicks “€e 80 firmly engrafted on the tree of popular literature bad boys and young men, that their position is assured ** * and that they stand to-day head and shoulders i _ LATEST AND BEST. ‘HANDSOME TRI-GOLORED COVERS, $2 Pages. Issued Every Wednesday. Price 5 Cents. Buy One and You Will Buy the Rest i HEROES. above all rivals in the eyes of the public for which they have lived, and for which one of them has died. American boyhood, and that is a tremendous factor in the land, now knows Deadwood Dick, Jr., a,good beal bet ter than it knows its catechism, and millions of young minds absorb the thrilling incidents of his career in hig 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 celle nena thrills go thrilling away from Maine to Call. ornia, There are the volumes each 40 crowded witb 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 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 an@ well written. DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY. 4 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures 4 Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol % Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval § Death-Face, che Detective : ¥ The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dieck’s Bonanza 8 Old Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand 9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian . 8 Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood. Dick in Danger ? Jim Bludsoe, Jr.,the Boy Phenix; or, Through to Death % Deadwood Dick’s Earles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar 8 Buckhorn Bill; or, Tne Red Rifle Team 44 Gold Rifle, the See oe % Deadwood Dick on Deck: or, Calamity Jane % Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo aa een Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the Gulch 8 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand # Photograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance 3 Watch-Eye, the Shadow #1 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, The Sign of thy Double Cross : #2 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief % Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty *%& Deadwood Dick as Detective ® Gilt-ldge Dick #6 Bonanza Bill. the Man-Tracker; or, The Secret Twelve 4% Chip, the Girl Sport 48 Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune 49 Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks Ei) oe + lg Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s uleh %1 Blonde Bill; or. Deadwood Dick’s Home Base % Solid Sam the Boy Road-Agent 83 Tony Fox, the Ferret; or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job 84 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike 85 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 86 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective 87 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierrag 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 Jeaebe? 42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp 43 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogue@ 44 ae ad Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiater'y ame 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme 46 The Jimtown Spert; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorade 4f¥ 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 Deteet- ives 51 a cers Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rouge anc 52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise 53 Denver Doll’s Device; or, The Detective Queen 54 Denver Doll as Detective 55 Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big BucKskin the Spert 56 Denver Doli’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Logs 57 Deadwood Dick Trapped 58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The Messenger Boy’s Fortune 59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Spor? 60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission 62 Spotter Fritz: or, The Store-Detective's Deco 63 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sacza fras Cit) 64 Colorado Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle Kings M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers (James Sullivan, Proprietor), 379 Pearl Street, NEW YORK.

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dvopyright 188271888, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as second class matter. Mar. 15, 1804 ‘ THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO. No. 48 Cleveland, Ohio Vol. IV DREW RECEIVED A BLOW ACROSS THK SACK THAT FLATTENED HIM TO THE GROUND

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COpVRIGH. Se ards x )pyright 1882-1888, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as second elass matter. Mar. 15, 1% | f Issued Weekly, THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO, Price 5 Cents. y No. 48 : Cleveland, Ohio $2.50 - Year, V ol, IV AN 2 SS Se a DREW RECEIVED 4 BLOW ‘CROSS THE FACF THAT FLATTENED HIM TO THE GROUND.

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BEADLE’S FRONTIER SERIES iS. Per Copy. , t ‘50. Harry Hardskull. 51. Madman of the Oconto, * 62, Slim Jim. 563. Tiger-Eye. 54. The Red Star of the “2. The Shawnee’s Foe. 2. The Young Mountaineer, 3. Wild Jim. 4, Hawk-Eye, the Hunter, “'b, The Boy Guide. 6. War Tiger of the Modocn Seminoles. , The Red Modocs. «55. Trapper Joe. * 8. Tron Hand. 56. The Indian Qwueen’a Revenge. * 9. Shadow Bill, the Scout.. / 10. Wapawkaneta, or the 57. Hagle-Eyed Zeke. | Rangers of the Oneida. | .58. Sear-Cheek, the Wild ll. Davy Crockett’'a Boy Half-Breed. Hunter, 59, Red Men of the Woods. 12, The Forest Avenger, 60. Tuscaloosa Sam, race 13. Old Jack’s Frontier 61. The Bully of the Woods, Cabin. 62, The Trapper’s Bride, 114, On the Deep. 1,63. Red Rattlesnake, The 115. Sharp Snout. Pawnee, 16, The Mountain Demon. .64, The Scout of Tippecance 17. Wild Tom of Wyoming, 65, Old Kit, The Scout, 118. The Brave Boy Hunters The Boy Scouts. of Kentucky. Hiding Tom. ad Neo 19, The Fearless Ranger. 68, Roving Dick, Hunter, 120, The Haunted Trapper. 69. Hickory Jack. £1. Madman of the Colorado, 70, Mad Mike. 22. The Panther Demon, “1, Snake-Eye. (28. Slashaway, the Fearless, "72. Big-Hearted Joe. . The Blazing Arrow. The Hunter Scouts. The Scout of Long Island, . Turkey-Koot. » The Death Rangers. Bullet Head. The Indian Spirit. The Twin Trappers. Lightfoot the Scout, Grim Dick. 3. The Wooden-Legged Spys 124, Pine Tree Jack, 125, Indian Jim. 126, Navajo Nick. 27. The Tuscarora’s Vow. 28. Deadwood Mick, Jr. 29. A New York Boy Among the Indians. 80. Dendwood Dick’s Big Deal, 81, Hank, the Guide. 00.08.0000 ITAA AIAI-3 NROCOCMOAD PCO 82. Deadwood Dick’s Dozen, 33. Squatty Dick. 34, The Hunter’s Secret. (35. The Woman Trapper, 86. The Chief of the Miami, 87. Gunpowder Jim, 38. Mad Anthony’s Captain. 89. The Ranger Boy’s Career 84, The Silent Trapper. 8b, Ugly Ike. 86, Fire grt en 87, Hank Jasp 88. The Seon of the Sciota, 89, Black Samson, 90. Billy Bowlegs. 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 Irish Hunter. 97. The Panther Paleface. ‘46. Dave Bunker. 98. The Scout of ae St. Lawrences The Shawnee Witch, 99. Bloody Brook, rs Big Brave. 100, Long Bob of Kentucky. 49. Spider-Legs. EADLE’'S FRONTIER SERIES a are always in print and for os all Newsdealers; or will be sent ieee to any address: ‘Single copies, [5e. : ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO. CLEVELAND, OHIO ae

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Deadwood Dick e Library e 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 § Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval 6 Death-Face, the Detective 7 The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza 8 Old Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand 9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian 10 Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; pr, Deadwood Dick in Danger 11 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to Deat! Az oo wliead Dick's Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood ar 8 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team 4 Gold Rifle, the Se enasees 15 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane 16 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo v eet Rob; or, Nugget Néd, the Knight cf the * Gule 8 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand 49 Photograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance 20 Watch-Eye, the Shadow 21 Deadwood Dick’s Device, or, The Sign of the Double Cross 2 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief 3 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty 4 Deadwood crag Detective Oliip. the Girl Sport Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune 9 Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks 30 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s Gulch 81 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base 42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp 44 Detective Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator's 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme 46 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado 48 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son; or, Apollo Bill, the 49 Sierra Sam, the Detective 50 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female Detect ives 51 pea cous Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rough c! n 52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise LATEST AND BEST. | HANDSOME TRI-COLORED COVERS. 82 Pages. Buy One and You Will Buy the Rests For Sample Cover See @ther Vide. 83 Tony Fox, the Ferret; or, Boss Bob's Boss Job 84 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike 85 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 86 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective 87 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierras 88 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo 89 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or,°Calamity Jane's Last Adventure . 40 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road 41 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jezebel 43 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues Game 47 The Miner Sport; or, Sugar-Coated Sam's Claim Road-Agent 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's Fortune 59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport 60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission 62 Spotter Fritz; or, The Store-Detective’s Deco 63 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa- fras oe, 64 pee harlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle ngs