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diff --git a/old/69168-0.txt b/old/69168-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 830ce64..0000000 --- a/old/69168-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4390 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The phantom hunter, by Edwin Emerson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The phantom hunter - or, love after death - -Author: Edwin Emerson - -Release Date: October 16, 2022 [eBook #69168] - -Language: English - -Produced by: David Edwards and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (Northern Illinois University - Digital Library) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHANTOM HUNTER *** - - - - - - - THE PHANTOM HUNTER; - OR, - LOVE AFTER DEATH. - - BY EDWIN EMERSON, - AUTHOR OF “THE WOOD WITCH,” ETC. - - NEW YORK: - BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, - 98 WILLIAM STREET. - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by - FRANK STARR & CO., - In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. - - - - -THE PHANTOM HUNTER; - -OR, - -LOVE AFTER DEATH. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -BACKWOODS JUSTICE. - - -Among the earliest settlements of Kentucky was that which figures in -our story. At the time of the following events it contained some fifty -dwellings, surrounded by strong palisades to defend them from the -savages, besides a well-constructed block-house, which was not only -strongly garrisoned, but claimed the additional protection of a brass -field-piece. This last-named instrument presented quite a formidable -appearance to prowling Indians, as it sat on the summit of the -block-house reflecting every sunbeam from its polished surface. - -One bright afternoon, early in the month of August, there was an unusual -commotion at the Indian frontier post. - -The entire population, men and women, old and young, had assembled on a -broad, level spot just beyond the limits of the fort, many of them to -look upon a scene such as they had never before witnessed. This spot was -known as “the green,” and it was where the youth of the settlement were -wont to repair for their sports, but those gathered there now wore sad -faces, and conversed with each other in low, serious tones. And well they -might, for they were there to see a man hung for murder! - -Russell Trafford was one of the most honored and highly esteemed young -men of the place, and yet, on this bright August afternoon, he was to be -put to death for the willful murder of another person, who had enjoyed -a like reputation. Being an orphan, the young man had lived with his -uncle, Doctor Trafford, in the largest and most substantial cabin in the -settlement, the worthy doctor being a kind but eccentric individual, who -could not have loved his nephew more had the latter been a son instead. -These two had never been known to be at odds until very recently, and in -fact the peace, harmony and happiness with which they had always lived -together, had been a subject of remark on more than one occasion. - -But one night, at a late hour, an alarm of fire was raised. The excited -settlers, rushing out of their houses, made the startling discovery -that the dwelling of Doctor Trafford was in flames. It was readily -perceived that the fire had already made such headway as to be past -extinguishing, but, notwithstanding that fact, crowds of people rushed -to the spot to watch the doomed cabin as it burned, and to learn the -cause of the catastrophe. Arriving on the scene, the only person they -found there was Russell Trafford. The young man was standing in front -of the burning structure, with an _open tinder-box_ in his hand, gazing -up at the flames, pale and silent. When spoken to he started violently, -and then, quickly thrusting the tinder-box in his pocket, he clasped his -hands and cried out in tones of mental anguish, that his poor uncle was -dead—murdered—burned alive in his own house! Somebody asked him how he -came to be outside of the cabin with an open tinder-box in his hand, and -he replied in an absent sort of a way, that he didn’t know—the box was -not his—he had found it, he supposed, and begged them to let him alone. - -The idea of the esteemed Doctor Trafford being burned to death in his -own house and bed, aroused the indignation of all. Somebody had done the -deed, and somebody must suffer for it; and the finger of circumstantial -evidence pointed to the victim’s nephew, Russell, as the guilty one. -Suspicion was fastened strongly upon him, despite the good name he had -hitherto borne. On the following day the remains of Doctor Trafford were -looked for amid the ruins of the demolished domicil, and the search was -rewarded by the finding of a skull and the rest of the bones that belong -to the human body, all totally destitute of flesh. These were decently -interred, as a last tribute of respect to the dead. - -Russell Trafford was arrested, and allowed to go through a mock trial. -An Irish boy named Mike Terry—a lad of some fourteen summers, who had -lived with the doctor in the capacity of servant—testified that Russell -and his uncle had quarreled on the morning preceding the tragedy, and, -moreover, that he himself had _seen_ Russell set fire to the building, -and he (Mike) had barely escaped with his own life. - -This was sufficient. Russell Trafford was declared guilty of firing the -cabin with intent to kill his uncle, and he was sentenced to be “hanged -by the neck, until dead.” And the sunny afternoon in question was set -apart for the punishment of the offender, and many of those who gathered -on the green to witness the execution wore sorrowful faces as they looked -on the doomed man for the last time. For it was hard to believe that he, -who had always been so honorable, upright and noble, could commit such a -horrible crime as that ascribed to him. Instead, however, of hanging him -by the simple means of a rope and a tree, after the Lynch-law custom of -that day, a rude scaffold had been hastily constructed, and the evident -intention of the people was to have the affair conducted in proper style. -The executioner was an old hunter, ranger and scout, who gloried in the -euphonious appellation of Kirby Kidd. Grizzled old borderman that he -was, fearless, true-hearted and kind, he formed a good specimen of his -class, and his sturdy, Herculean frame showed to good advantage as he -stood at his post. His keen black eyes roamed over the crowd with seeming -indifference, and occasionally he was observed to address a few words to -the prisoner. He was leaning carelessly on his rifle, holding in one hand -a tall death-cap, made of undressed bear-skin. There was still a third -party on the scaffold. This was a friendly Wyandott Indian, of the name -of Wapawah, who was the constant companion of Kirby Kidd when hunting -or on the trail, and who had rendered valuable service to many of the -frontier posts along the Ohio. Wapawah was as brave a warrior as ever -trod Kentucky soil, and possessed all the cunning, vindictiveness and -reticence, characteristic of his race. Just now he stood beside his white -friend like an image carved in bronze, with his arms folded over his -tawny breast, watching the proceedings in stoical silence. - -While the spectators were waiting nervously for the _finale_, the -attention of many was attracted to a rather curious-looking individual, -who suddenly made his appearance among them. This was a man of medium -size, clad in the ordinary garb of a hunter and ranger, who trailed -after him a long, black rifle as he walked. There was not the sign of -an expression on the fellow’s face. A red, straggling beard covered his -mouth and chin; long hair of the same color brushed his shoulders at -every movement of his head; an ugly patch disfigured his left cheek; -and a rough bandage concealed his right eye. Altogether his was not the -most prepossessing face ever seen. Nobody seemed to know him, nor did -he return any of the searching glances directed at him. He was pressing -through the crowd toward the scaffold, looking neither to the right nor -left, but straight ahead. - -When the stranger had pushed himself through the wondering throng, he -unhesitatingly ascended to the elevated platform, and confronted Kirby -Kidd, the hangman. For some minutes the two hunters conversed together -in low, earnest tones, the friendly Indian standing near, and evidently -drinking in every word that was uttered. When the secret conference had -been kept up so long that the mob began to show its impatience by angry -shouts, it was promptly ended, and the stranger turned away. Then the -hangman spoke out loudly, exclaiming: - -“Wal, Nick Robbins, ye know it’s my way. I allers try to do my duty, -whether it be pleasant or no.” - -“Sartinly, Kidd,” returned the person called Nick Robbins. “Go ahead an’ -string the cuss up. I know yer wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with the thing -ef yer thought he didn’t desarve it.” - -With this, the stranger with the bandaged eye turned and descended to the -ground, still dragging his gun after him. Wapawah, the Wyandott, followed -him, and the two withdrew to a spot apart from the crowd, where they -might talk unheard. - -A few of the settlers went forward to shake the hand of the young -convict, and bid him a last farewell. Among these were three persons -who attracted considerable attention—a man and two women. They were Mr. -Moreland, his wife and daughter. Mr. Moreland was one of the first men -of the settlement, a sensible, industrious and stout-hearted pioneer, -who knew well why God had given him health and a pair of strong arms, -and who acted accordingly. He had a wife of the same disposition, kind, -charitable and self-sacrificing, and their daughter resembled them both. -In point of beauty, Isabel Moreland certainly had no superior in all -Kentucky, and in those days real beauty was not so scarce as in this age -of fashion and folly. She was the betrothed of Russell Trafford, and -people had said they would make an excellent match, but that was all -over now, and here stood the young man under the gallows, on the eve of -a felon’s death, while his affianced wife wept bitterly as he bid her a -final adieu. - -This affecting scene over, Russell Trafford was asked if he had any thing -to say before dying. He replied that he desired a very brief hearing, and -then stepped to the edge of the scaffold to speak. He was strangely calm -and collected, and his voice was clear, steady and distinct. He said: - -“Friends and former friends: it affords me extreme happiness to know -that there are those among you who still have faith in my innocence, in -spite of all evidence to the contrary. On the heads of such I invoke the -blessing of God as I die. For you who believe me guilty I bear no malice, -nor even reproach, but trust that a just Heaven will undeceive you after -I am gone, and bring the true offender to the retribution he deserves. I -am ready to die.” - -He stepped back as he made this last declaration, and the old ranger -immediately placed the death-cap over his head. - -It is not necessary to inflict upon the reader a detailed account of the -sickening scene which followed. Sufficient to say, that Russell Trafford -was hung before the eyes of his former friends and the grieved maiden who -had promised to become his wife. The body of the young man was lowered -from the gallows, and placed in the coffin that awaited it, which was -nothing more than a rude pine box constructed for this purpose. Old Kirby -Kidd, the Wyandott Indian, and their friend, Nick Robbins, volunteered -to take the corpse in custody until the morrow, and protect it from the -enraged mob, who, it was feared, not being satisfied with the murderer’s -death, would further vent its wrath upon the dead body. - -On the following day a grave was dug in a pretty glade just outside of -the settlement, and burial services were performed. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -JONATHAN BOGGS, FROM MAINE. - - -Isabel Moreland stood in the doorway of her father’s cabin one morning, -two or three days after the execution of her lover, Russell Trafford. She -was very pale, but very calm. The roses, which had been the admiration -of all, were gone from her cheeks, and her dark, soulful eyes, which had -been the particular admiration of her ill-fated lover, were hollow and -unusually large. A sad, pitiful, expression dwelt in their clear depths, -and the lines on her forehead told a tale of mental suffering. The -settlers who passed that way, seeing her standing there, marveled at the -change that had taken place in her since the death of young Trafford, and -felt their hearts moved to pity for the broken-hearted girl. - -Presently a man sauntered up to the door, attracted thither by the -charming one who stood there. He was a big, burly fellow, with the -brute plainly stamped on his coarse, red face, and an air of reckless -depravity about him that proclaimed him any thing else but a man. He -wore a slouched hat, pulled carelessly down on one side of his head, -completely hiding his right eye. This was Jim McCabe, the veriest bully -and profligate in the settlement, who, it was said, was so devoid of -principle that no piece of deviltry was too great for him to commit. He -had been one of Russell Trafford’s rivals in love, and of all the rivals -he had been compelled to contend with, Russell had regarded Jim McCabe -as the most insignificant. But, now that his successful competitor was -out of the way, McCabe seemed to think it possible to thrust himself into -the vacant place, and seeing her this morning at the door of her home, -he determined to seize the opportunity of renewing the contest for the -much-coveted hand and heart. - -“Good-morrow, Miss Moreland,” said he, with a profound bow, and an -attempt to smile pleasantly. - -“Well, sir?” returned the girl, coldly. - -“Perfectly well, I thank you,” replied the rogue, choosing to -misconstrue her words. “But, really, Miss Moreland, you are looking -decidedly unwell to-day. What can be the matter, if I may ask? Are you -ill?” - -“Not particularly.” - -“No? Now that is strange. One would suppose that you had just risen from -a prolonged illness. You see I am naturally concerned for the health -of one so dear to me. By the way, that was a sad affair about Doctor -Trafford and his ingrate of a nephew, wasn’t it?—a sad affair all round. -As a friend, I feel for you deeply, but I think you were fortunate in -thus finding out the character of your intended husband before—” - -“Sir, I must trouble you to drop this subject now and forever.” - -Isabel Moreland turned her flashing eyes upon the man as she spoke, and -gave him a look that made him recoil. But, quickly recovering himself, he -replied, in a tone of apology: - -“Why, I did not suspect that I was treading forbidden ground. I only -wished to express my sympathy for you, and you certainly need it, since -your favored suitor has proven himself only fit to grace the end of a -rope.” - -“Do you persist in talking of this?” demanded Isabel. - -“Not at all—not at all,” was the humble rejoinder. “It being your desire, -the subject shall be dropped immediately. I would merely observe, what an -inhuman wretch that man was to deliberately kill his own uncle, and that -in the most horrible manner conceivable.” - -“If you have come here to jeer and mock at me, you must continue your -insults without my presence,” interrupted our heroine, and so saying -she entered the house, and quietly closed the door between her and her -tormentor. - -Jim McCabe ground his teeth with rage. Was this to be the result of -the new game he had so hopefully commenced? Did she, then, hate him so -bitterly? and was her love for Russell Trafford so great that his death -had produced this marked change in her lovely face? But Jim McCabe was -not the man to submit thus tamely. He shook his fist at the door which -shut the maiden from his view, and muttered: - -“This is all very fine, my proud lady, but the time is not far off when -you will look at Jim McCabe with a much softer expression in those eyes. -I have played none but my loose cards as yet, but there are trumps to -follow that are certain to win, and two weeks shall not pass away before -I shall have the pleasure of seeing this haughty jade at my feet.” - -He hissed the last words through his clenched teeth, and his usually red -face grew still redder with anger. - -He was walking away from the spot, when a peculiar voice behind him -arrested his footsteps. - -“Hello, you! Jest draw rein a minute, ef you please.” - -Instinctively guessing that he was the one accosted, McCabe stopped -to see who the presumptuous person was. A tall, angular specimen of -humanity, with long, dangling legs and ungainly feet, was coming toward -him with awkward strides. He was an utter stranger to McCabe, but the -latter saw at a glance that he was a Yankee, of the raw sort, evidently -just from his native State. His dress alone would have proven that fact, -to say nothing of the nasal twang in his voice, and the “down-east” -peculiarity of speech. He wore a tall, white hat, the nap of which stuck -straight out; a pair of striped trowsers, which clung tenaciously to -the awkward members they protected; and a blue, threadbare coat, whose -swallow-tails reached nearly to his heels. - -“How d’ye dew, stranger?” drawled the specimen, as he came up. “Right -nice weather we’re havin’ nowadays, ain’t it?” - -“Splendid. But what do you want of me?” - -“What dew I want? Law, now, you’re jest like all the rest o’ the western -folks—want a feller tew come tew the p’int instanter, without the least -bit o’ prevaricatin’ or dodgin’ round the stump, as Tabitha Simpson used -to say. Tabitha Simpson was my third cousin, stranger, on my mother’s -side, a gal o’ the femenine persuasion, by the way, and I swan tew man, -there never was a couple in all Christendom as had more fun than Tabitha -and me used to have. There was one time in partic’lar—” - -“See here,” interposed McCabe, crustily, “before you continue your -nonsense I should like to know who you are?” - -“Me? Darn my buttons! mother allus said I was the most forgitful child -she had, and I’m forever provin’ the fact to myself in this very way. Me? -Why, bless you, I’m Jonathan Boggs, all the way from Maine! Jonathan -Boggs, stranger, a first-rate feller on the whole, who was considered the -smartest member of his father’s family, until he robbed neighbor Green’s -hen-roost and had to turn tail on the old humstead.” - -Jim McCabe began to regard the Yankee with some curiosity. - -“When did you arrive here, Mr. Boggs?” he inquired. - -“I brought up in this hamlet yesterday,” replied the Yankee, squeezing -his hands with difficulty into the pockets of his “tights.” - -“Yesterday,” repeated the other. “It may seem strange to you, but I -really think I have seen your face somewhere.” - -“Dew tell? I s’pect you have, mister, for I often go there,” said the -“specimen,” with provoking coolness. “As Tabitha Simpson used to say, -‘Cousin Jonathan must be known to be liked,’ and I’m glad to l’arn as how -my phiz ain’t unfamiliar tew you—” - -But Jim McCabe was too thoroughly exasperated by the _sang froid_ of his -interlocutor, to let him go on in this strain. - -“Well, well!” he exclaimed, “if you have any thing of importance to say, -I wish to hear it at once.” - -“Want to know!” returned the stranger, elevating his eyebrows. “Now -that’s what I call right down mean, bluffin’ a chap off in that ’ere -style when he’s talkin’ ’bout the land of his birth, and old-time -associations. I find I can’t talk enough to please you, but I calkilate -you’ll ’scuse me on the score that natur’ neglected to put the gift o’ -gab in my blamed noddle. - -“Now, in that respect, I ain’t one iotum like the old woman, ’cause why? -she can talk the ha’r right off o’ your head in three jerks of a possum’s -ear, and ef you’s with her from Sunday mornin’ till Saturday night, you -wouldn’t find a chance to crowd in a word edgewise. But I did forgit my -business, that’s a fact; thereby givin’ further proof that mother told -no lie, when she said as how I was etarnally disrememberin’ every blamed -thing of importance. But now tew the p’int, as Tabitha allus said, when -tellin’ one o’ her long-winded yarns. Tabitha had been childerns’ nuss at -some time of her life, and so had acquired a habit o’ story-tellin’ that -clung to her through the hull course of her existence—” - -“Curse you for an idiot!” growled McCabe, irascibly, and with an oath he -started away. - -“Hold on, mister,” said Jonathan Boggs, coolly laying his hand on the -other’s shoulder. “Don’t go off ’thout hearin’ me through.” - -“Hands off, scoundrel!” commanded the settler, fiercely. “I’ll knock you -down if you repeat this insult.” - -“I wouldn’t dew that, mister, I swow I wouldn’t. It takes such a hard -lick to knock me down that ye might cripple your hand for life. Besides, -when I was a boy it wa’n’t considered healthy tew undertake sech a -rash job, and even now you might not be dewin’ the right thing toward -yourself.” - -Jim McCabe was a coward, like all other bullies. So these words, and the -manner in which they were uttered, alarmed him not a little. - -“Who the deuce are you, anyway?” he demanded, sullenly. - -“Jonathan Boggs, from Maine,” was the quiet reply. - -“And your business with me?” - -“Now that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along, but you wouldn’t -listen. I sell clocks for a livelihood. I’ve rented a room in the -block-house yonder, and by Jupiter! it’s e’na’most filled up with my -clocks. Reckon you’ll buy a clock, won’t you?” - -“Fool!” McCabe stamped his foot with vexation, and again turned on his -heel to leave his persecutor. But again that opposing hand was laid on -his shoulder, and he was once more detained against his will. - -“Ain’t you gwine to buy a clock?” asked the Yankee. “I tell you, mister, -they’re the nicest thing under the sun and jest presactly what you want. -I swow, by gravy, it’s the most complete invention in existence. Why, the -man as made them clocks _died_. He was tew confounded smart tew live—” - -“Stop!” said the settler, imperatively. “I don’t wish to buy, and you -will oblige me by discontinuing the subject.” - -“You don’t tell me! Wal, I don’t wish to impose on the patience of an -indulgent audience. I’ve sold so many clocks since I come, that I ain’t -spilin’ for your patronage nohow, so we’ll drap the topic. I say, mister, -that was a bad thing ’bout your feller-citizen, Doctor Trafford, bein’ -killed in his own house, wa’n’t it?” - -“It was indeed,” was the brief answer. - -“It was, sure’s shootin’,” continued the Yankee; “but the wust part o’ -the hull sarcumstance was the awful mistake of arrestin’ the doctor’s own -nephew, and hangin’ him for the murder.” - -“Mistake!” echoed McCabe, looking sharply at the speaker. “Why, sir, -there was no mistake about it. Russell Trafford was found guilty before -he was punished. He _did_ do the deed.” - -“Did he though? Now that beats me. I s’pose you was there, and see’d him -dew it?” - -“Not I, sir, but a small boy, who had been in the doctor’s employ, saw -the doctor’s nephew set fire to the building.” - -“Wal, the lad might have been bribed tew tell all that, you know. I’ve -hearn the hull story two or three times, and I hope I may be shot for a -chicken-thief ef the young man done the job.” - -“Dare you assert that he did not do it?” - -“Yas.” - -Jim McCabe started visibly at this cool affirmation, and for an instant -his naturally red face was almost pale. But he was quickly himself again, -and with an incredulous smile, he muttered: - -“Pshaw! the cursed fool don’t know what he’s talking about.” - -Then he turned on his heel again, and this time he was off and walking -briskly away before the Yankee could detain him. Jonathan Boggs looked -after him for a moment with a curious expression on his face, and then -turning aside, he boldly entered the house of Mr. Moreland, without so -much as knocking at the door. - -Jim McCabe had not proceeded far, after leaving his new acquaintance so -abruptly, before he met another person who stopped him. This was a small -boy, about fourteen years of age, who wore a jaunty cap, a green jacket, -and corduroy knee-breeches, which revealed his nationality as plainly -as did his face. He was a bright-looking little fellow, with intelligent -blue eyes and rosy cheeks, and, in fact, was no less a personage than -Mike Terry, the former servant of Doctor Trafford. He it was who had -furnished the evidence that convicted his master’s murderer. - -“The top iv the mornin’ to yeez, Jamie,” said the young Hibernian, as he -met McCabe. - -“Well, what do you want?” gruffly demanded the man, as the boy seized his -arm to prevent him from passing on. - -“An’ is it that same quistion ye’d be askin’, sure? Phat w’u’d I be -afther wantin’ but money?” - -“I haven’t any money,” declared McCabe, angrily. - -“I know yeez have,” asserted the boy, firmly, “an’ be gorra, ef yeez -don’t give it to me, sorry the day yer honor iver timpted me to desart -me colors, intirely. Av I wasn’t yer cousin, Jamie, I should niver have -done that wicked thing, no more w’u’d I. An’ av it was all to do over, it -isn’t the likes iv Mike Terry that ’ud play false to a kind masther for -love or money. For Doctor Trafford and Masther Russell were good to me, -Jamie, an’ but for you—” - -“Hush, Mike,” continued the man, glancing uneasily around. “Have you gone -crazy, or do you wish to expose me?” - -“I ain’t carin’ much phat I do. Av yeez don’t kape me in money I won’t -hold yer saycret a day longer; divil a bit will I. Ye’ve med a bad b’y iv -me, Jamie, an’ ye’re me own cousin, too.” - -“Here; take this, boy,” said the angry man, handing him a coin, “and for -heaven’s sake let it seal your lips. I can’t afford to give you money -every day. Now go.” - -So Jim McCabe and Mike Terry parted, both of them looking very much -discontented as they walked away in opposite directions. - -When they were well gone, a man rose from behind a pile of logs within a -few feet of the spot where they had stood conversing. It was the man of -the bandaged eye and red, straggling beard, of whom we made mention in -the foregoing chapter, and as he strode away, dragging his gun after him, -his face was still expressionless. - -The eavesdropper was Nick Robbins. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -LOVE AFTER DEATH. - - -As we have already stated, the grave of Doctor Trafford’s supposed -murderer was in a pretty little glade just outside of the settlement. -Those who had known and liked the young man were only too glad to perform -any office of respect to his corpse, and the grave had been dug so deep -that there was no possibility of the body being reached by wild animals. - -To this lonely spot the intimate friends of Russell Trafford would repair -at times to lament, in solitude, the loss of one so good, noble, yet -unfortunate. - -That night, after his interview with Isabel Moreland, and the provoking -stranger, Jonathan Boggs, Jim McCabe was seized with a strong inclination -to pay a visit to the tomb of his ill-fated rival in love. Of course -this inclination was not born of any such feeling as grief or regret for -the lost one, but, rather, of a desire to exult over his fallen foe, and -glut his greedy eyes on the last resting-place of the man who would never -more stand in his way. He had not seen it as yet—in fact, he had not been -outside of the palisades since the day of the execution—and he now felt -as if he must see the place where the man was buried, before he could -fully realize that his most dangerous rival was indeed out of his way. - -The thought struck McCabe while he was sauntering through the settlement. -It was night, but not a dark one by any means. The moon was shining in -all her glory, and not a cloud obscured the star-studded sky; and, as -Jim McCabe seldom turned a deaf ear to the voice of his inclination, he -was not long in determining to follow it on this occasion. The hour was -late, and none of the inhabitants were out, save a few who sat in their -doors, and they would suppose he was merely going out for a stroll in the -moonlight. But, pshaw! even if they should see where he went, would they -not think he had gone there to drop a silent tear on the sod that covered -the remains of a noble man? - -He went. He told the man at the gate, as he passed out, that he would -return in a few minutes, and then he walked slowly away into the shadows -of the forest. He was musing on the events of the day as he wandered on; -of the freezing coldness with which Isabel Moreland had met him; of the -eccentric character, Jonathan Boggs, from Maine; and not a little of his -cousin, the Irish boy, who had demanded money of him. - -Thus meditating, Jim McCabe arrived at his destination. Emerging from the -darkness of the woods, he paused on the edge of the glade to contemplate -the scene before him. - -Yes, there was the grave of the man he hated, in the very center of the -open place—the small, grassy mound he had come to gloat over. He saw it -now, and was satisfied; but why did the villain start back and stare, as -his gleaming eyes alighted on the object he had come here to see? Why -did he seem so surprised, and even alarmed? Well he might, for he saw at -a glance that he was not the only person in that lonely spot. A man was -there—a tall, finely-formed man, standing by the grave, with his head -bowed upon his breast! He was motionless as a statue of stone. Who was -this man—this mourner—this night visitor at the tomb of Russell Trafford? - -Jim McCabe asked himself this question over and over, gazing keenly -at the stately figure before him for an answer. Had he not seen that -tall, graceful form before? He thought at first that he had, but, as -he called to mind every person of his acquaintance, and compared them -with this one, he was compelled to admit that this one was a stranger to -him. Just as he arrived at this conclusion the unknown moved. He turned -half around, which gave the silent watcher a full view of his face. The -moonlight fell on his bare head, revealing a noble forehead, a pair of -brilliant eyes, and features of the handsomest mold. - -Good Heaven! _the man was Russell Trafford himself_! - -Jim McCabe staggered backward, and grasped a tree for support. His face -changed to a deathly pallor, the perspiration poured from his brow, and -for a moment his breath came in spasmodic gasps. Russell Trafford! he -who had been hung—he who was dead and buried—now standing before him in -all his living health and manly beauty! Great God could he believe his -eyes? Had not he himself seen the man hung? Was he dreaming, or was this -some frightful delusion of a disordered brain? That face, with the mellow -light of the moon falling gently upon it, was not to be mistaken. - -While the terrified ruffian was staring at the apparition, still another -figure appeared in the glade. This, more to his surprise, he observed -was not a male, but a _female_ figure. It wore a white dress, and it was -gliding toward the grave in the center of the natural clearing. Another -keen glance, and McCabe had recognized this new appearance. It was Isabel -Moreland! - -Dumb with amazement, the lurker could do nothing but stand and stare. He -saw the woman go up to the man; he saw the man catch her in his arms, -and press his lips to her fair brow; and then he heard the low hum of -their voices as they began an earnest but guarded conversation. In an -instant his astonishment and consternation were transformed into fierce, -ungovernable rage. He forgot, for the moment, that the appearance of this -man, alive and well, was the most miraculous thing he had ever heard of. -He forgot that he must be dreaming or insane, or that the familiar form -before him was but a spirit from the dead. He forgot every thing, except -that Russell Trafford and Isabel Moreland were standing there within a -few feet of him, locked in each other’s arms! His blood boiled in his -veins, and his hot head swam with the demoniac fury that took possession -of him. - -“A thousand curses!” he roared, in a voice hoarse with passion, as he -snatched a pistol from his breast. “I swear I’ll kill the scoundrel if he -has a hundred lives!” - -Like a wild beast bursting from its covert, Jim McCabe sprung from the -shadow of the tree, pistol in hand, and bounded across the open space -toward the lovers. But he had taken scarcely half a dozen strides, when -a rough hand grasped his collar from behind, and he was jerked backward -with a violence that well-nigh precipitated him to the ground. As soon -as he had regained his equilibrium, he wheeled around to see who it was -that had so abruptly put an end to his fierce attack. In the moonlight he -saw the faces of three men, all scowling upon him as though he were the -worst person in existence! He knew them all at a glance. One of them, he -who had seized him by the collar, was Kirby Kidd, the stalwart ranger who -had acted the part of hangman in the execution of young Trafford. Another -was the friendly Wyandott Indian, Wapawah, the constant companion of the -white hunter. The third and last member of the group was Nick Robbins, -the man of the bandaged eye and expressionless face. - -“What do you want of me?” demanded McCabe; “and what do you mean by -jerking a fellow about in that manner?” - -“See hyur, youngster,” drawled Kirby Kidd, peering into the face of his -captive, “who in creation are you, anyhow?” - -“None of your business,” was the curt reply. - -“Yas, I thort so,” continued the ranger, coolly. “But, never mind; I know -who you be, now. Ye’re Jim McCabe, the chap as are known to be the black -sheep of the fort, an’ the sneakin’est hang-dog that ever set fire to a -shanty! What in all natur’ are ye—an eediot or a sleep-walker? ’cause -it’s plain to this coon ’ut ye’re one or t’other. What wur ye caperin’ -round hyur fur? Hav yer treed sunkthin’?” - -“Can’t you see what it is?” exclaimed McCabe, wildly. “Where are your -eyes? Don’t you see Russell Trafford and Isabel Moreland standing there, -locked in a close embrace?” - -“What! When? Where?” ejaculated Kirby Kidd and Nick Robbins, in a breath. - -“Why, _there_!” roared the ruffian, in the wildest excitement, pointing -toward the grave as he spoke. - -“This coon sees nothin’,” asserted Kidd. - -“Neither do this ’un,” echoed Robbins. - -Nor did Jim McCabe himself see the apparitions now. During the brief -space of time that his eyes were averted from the spot, the two figures -had disappeared! Had he, after all, been laboring under a freak of -imagination? He stared blankly at the three men, and the three men stared -blankly at him. - -“Poor cuss!” said the ranger; “he’s gone crazy, to a sartainty.” - -“I haven’t—I deny it,” panted the terrified wretch. “By the Great -Jehovah, I saw them as plainly as I now see you!” - -“Yer see’d who?” - -“Why, Miss Moreland and that young scamp of a Trafford.” - -“Poor cuss!” repeated the ranger, slowly. “He _is_ crazy, mold me into -buckshot ef he ain’t.” - -“I tell you I am not,” cried the villain, with an oath. - -“Look hyur, kumrid,” argued Nick Robbins, “the man ye speak of are dead, -and thar’s his grave, right behind ye. Kidd, thar, wur the coon as hung -him, an’ ’most ev’rybody at the fort wur out hyur when the buryin’ tuck -place.” - -“I know all that, and yet I have not taken leave of my senses. If I did -not see the real Russell Trafford, I saw his ghost, although I was never -thought to believe in such things. He was standing yonder by the grave, -and he was joined there by a female, whom I at once recognized as the -daughter of Mr. Moreland.” - -“I reckon ’twur a couple o’ spooks,” said Kidd, solemnly. “Whar wur ye -goin’ when we saw fit to detain yer?” - -“I was approaching the ‘spooks,’ as you call them.” - -“Approachin’ ’em? Yas, I guess ye wur, but ye may mold me into buckshot -ef I don’t think ye’re a sleep-walker. Ye started off as if yer futur’ -redemption depended upon yer speed, an’ I must say ’ut ye seemed jest the -least little bit angry, or frightened, or excited, or sunkthin’ else, -’cause why? yer face was redder’n I ever see’d it, an’ ye cussed like a -trooper, an’ yer eyes shined like hot fat. What ye got that pistol in yer -hand fur?” - -The ranger looked straight in the eye of McCabe as he made this last -inquiry. McCabe started nervously, and quickly thrust the pistol into his -pocket. - -“I hardly know why I drew the weapon,” he answered, turning very red, -“but surely with no intention of using it. But, my friends, how came you -here at this hour of the night?” he added, not caring particularly to -continue the subject. - -“How kum us hyur? Wal, ye see, Nick, thar, is a great coon-hunter, an’ -me an’ the red-skin volunteered to ’kump’ny him to-night on one of his -nocturnal tramps. But that reminds me, kumrids, that it’s time we wur -movin’ on.” - -“And I must return home,” said McCabe. “So good night.” - -They parted, and while the three hunters went their way Jim McCabe walked -slowly homeward. - -He was sorely troubled. He could not banish his strange adventure from -his mind. That he had seen either the ghost or exact counterpart of -Russell Trafford, he was morally certain, and that the female who joined -him was the beautiful Isabel, he was ready to swear. A train of horrible -thoughts passed through his mind as he walked through the dark woods, and -then he began to glance suspiciously around on every side, and tremble -unconsciously at every rustle of a leaf. Once he stopped short and caught -his breath, at sight of his own shadow on the trunk of a tree, and then -he hurried on, chiding himself for his weakness. Nor did he feel safe -until he had dashed through the gate, and found himself once more within -the stockade. - -“Strange,” he whispered to himself, as he hastened home; “’tis very -strange indeed, but I know that I was not walking in my sleep. I believe -that I am haunted. It never occurred to me before to-night that I am a -double murderer!” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -POOR ISABEL! - - -To say that Jim McCabe soon forgot his midnight adventure would not -be speaking truthfully, for he did not. It preyed upon his mind so -continuously that his once red face began to grow pale and haggard, and -his eyes hollow. He unconsciously acquired the habit of falling into -a deep reverie when alone, and on such occasions he started nervously -when spoken to, and stared wildly around. In his dreams he saw visions -of Russell Trafford and Isabel Moreland standing by the grave in the -glade, and sometimes it seemed as if they were joined there by Doctor -Trafford, the murdered man. He could not muster up courage sufficient -to pay that lonely tomb another visit after dark, for, though always -before he laughed at the mere idea of ghosts appearing to mortals on this -earth, he now firmly believed that he had seen the spirit of a dead man! -He could not, nor did he attempt to, explain the mysterious actions of -Isabel, and her meeting with the supposed ghost, but he thought of it a -great deal, and even told the girl’s father about it. - -Yes, embracing the first opportunity that offered, McCabe related the -circumstance to Moreland. That is to say, he informed that gentleman -that he had seen his daughter meet a man in the woods; but he forbore -mentioning the resemblance of the man to Russell Trafford, for fear such -a statement would make him an object of ridicule. Mr. Moreland was sadly -grieved by the intelligence. It is hardly probable that he would have put -any faith in the testimony of such an unreliable person as Jim McCabe, -had he not heard the same story from other sources. Different parties, -happening by the glade on different nights, had come to him with the -information that they had been very much surprised by seeing his daughter -meet a man there in a very loverlike manner. None of them was prepared -to say who the man was, since they had not been able to see his face, -but that of Isabel seemed to have been plainly visible on each and every -occasion. - -No wonder, then, that Mr. and Mrs. Moreland were deeply troubled, and -began to look on their daughter with distrust. Was it possible that -Isabel, always so good and dutiful, was clandestinely meeting a stranger -every night in the woods? They would fain have turned a deaf ear to every -word touching the character of their idolized child, but all of those who -had witnessed the secret meetings—we may except McCabe—were persons whom -they positively could not disbelieve. They were at a loss what course to -pursue. They decided to say nothing on the subject to their daughter, but -to devise a plan instead, of putting an end to the nocturnal meetings -without seeming to have such an object in view. The whole settlement -was soon talking about the mysterious stranger, wondering who in the -world he was, whence he came, and where he kept himself during the day. -And the men looked puzzled, and the women held up their hands with -horrified looks, as they speculated on the immodest conduct of Miss -Moreland, but not a word of the gossip reached the ear of the wronged -girl herself. All knew that the death of Russell Trafford had wrought a -marked change in her appearance, but already the roses were returning to -her cheeks, the luster to her eyes, and she was fast becoming the same -light-hearted, joyous girl that had once been the light and life of the -whole settlement. Was not this, in itself, proof that she had forgotten -her old love? - -Poor Isabel! She knew nothing of the calumnious gossip that was being -indulged in at her expense. She little dreamed even that her friends -had begun to regard her with feelings of distrust, much less her own -kind parents, who had always had confidence in her self-esteem, womanly -modesty, and true dignity of soul. But, when Sunday came round, and she -went with her parents to the little log meeting-house, where the settlers -were wont to repair for worship on this day of each week, she was -surprised and pained by the strange looks and cold salutations she there -received. She spoke of this to her mother on returning home, but only an -evasive reply was offered in return, leaving her as much in the dark as -before. - -Thus matters went on with the Morelands. Almost every evening, Isabel -was observed to throw a light shawl over her shoulders and leave the -house, and, on inquiry of the guards at the gate, it was ascertained -that she really did leave the fort entirely in her nocturnal strolls. -Still, neither the father nor mother was willing to broach the subject -to the misguided daughter. They tried to think her innocent of any -impropriety—to believe that she went out in the silent hours of night to -weep unseen over the grave of her dead lover. But to no purpose. They -could not discard the statement of those whom they knew too thoroughly to -suspect of fabrication. So the talk was kept up, and the cause of it all -was ignorant of the sensation she had raised. - -Once Mr. Morton thought of forbidding the guard to let her out through -the gate, but, before he had decided as to the feasibility of this plan, -another one came to his mind which he liked much better. The forming of -this last plan was followed by a firm resolution, and Mr. Moreland was -not the man to break a resolution when once it was made. - -“My dear,” he said, when he and his wife were alone in the house, “I am -no longer at a loss what course to take to prevent a continuance of this -imprudent conduct on the part of our child. I have thought of several -plans which I did not think proper, on careful consideration, to put into -execution, but I have devised one now which I shall certainly act upon. -About fifteen miles down the river there is a fort, as you doubtless -remember, and to this fort I propose to remove. Some fine morning we will -pack our worldly effects, and take our poor daughter to a new home. She -shall know nothing of the project until the time of starting, and then -this strange lover of hers will not know what has become of her.” - -Mrs. Moreland listened calmly to this. The idea of breaking off old -associations, and turning their backs on their present home, was by no -means a pleasant one to her. But she thought of all that was in the -scales, and did not demur. Whatever her husband said was right, that -she was willing to do, she said, and then bowed her head low over her -knitting, to hide the tears that would come at the remembrance of her -child’s conduct of late. So it was decided to take Isabel far away from -the unknown scoundrel who had lured her from the path of duty, but they -studiously avoided uttering a word of their intentions in her presence. - -Among the foremost of the girl’s vilifiers was Jim McCabe, who told all -of his acquaintances how he had seen her meet a strange-looking man at -an unseemly hour, in an unseemly place, and how she had permitted him to -embrace and kiss her. Of all this he had ample proof, but he began to -exaggerate the story as he repeated it, and at the end would go on to say -that Miss Moreland was no longer fit to associate with the other young -women of the fort. As may well be supposed, the scheming rascal had an -object in this. His hope was to deprive her entirely of her good name, -and then go to her with words of deep compassion and urge her to fly with -him away from those bad people! - -One day, while McCabe was strolling through the settlement, he -encountered the Irish boy, Mike Terry. Somewhat to his surprise, Mike had -seemed to purposely shun him of late, and on this occasion he determined -to have an interview. So he took a gold-piece from his pocket, and -accosted the lad. - -“Mike, here is some money for you,” he said, with a bland smile. “I have -not given you any for some time, and I must say that your long silence -has pleased me very much.” - -“Divil a cint iv yer money do I want,” replied the boy, with a shrug of -his shoulders. - -“What! Don’t you want it?” - -“Divil a cint,” he repeated, firmly. - -“Why, what has come over you?” asked McCabe, in surprise. - -“A faylin’ iv remorse for phat I’ve been an’ done,” answered Mike, -moodily, beginning to dig his heel into the ground. “It’s yer own cousin -I am, Jamie, on me mother’s side iv the house, but, begorra, ye’ve made -me hate yeez like a kitten hates a wet floor.” - -“Why so, Mike? What the deuce are you whining about?” - -“Faith! don’t I have enough throuble to make me whine? Didn’t yeez do -an awful wicked thing, sure, and didn’t yeez make a tool iv me to work -yersilf out iv the scrape wid yer life? That ye did, ye bla’guard, an’ -av it wasn’t yer own cousin I am, I should niver have done it, at all, -at all. Bad ’cess to yeez for takin’ advantage iv me youth, an’ our -relationship, to wheedle me into this wickedness. I’ve a great mind -to confess all, an’ let ’em sthring ye up be the neck iv yeez; it’s -desarvin’ it, ye are.” - -Jim McCabe began to exhibit signs of alarm. - -“See here, you little fool,” he hissed, grasping the boy’s arm, “you must -exercise better judgment than this, or things will be brought to a pretty -pass. The man is dead; both are dead, and it is too late now to remedy -the matter. All you have to do is to keep your mouth, and all will be -well; but let contrition bring you to a confession of your guilt, and, -just so surely as you stand before me now, you will hang!” - -“Not I, Jamie.” - -“Yes, you as well as I. Was it not your evidence that convicted _him_? -Would they not regard you as a murderer, and punish you accordingly? As -a matter of course they would, and the best thing you can do is to keep -your tongue in your head. Do you hear?” - -Mike Terry heard, and it was evident, too, that he believed his crafty -cousin, for he relapsed into silence and continued digging in the ground -with his heel. At length, however, he looked up suddenly, with a strange -glitter in his eyes. - -“Jamie,” he whispered, huskily, “do yeez belave in spooks?” - -McCabe started in spite of himself at this unexpected inquiry. - -“Spooks, boy? What do you mean?” - -“Why, ghosts, to be sure. Raal ginewine ghosts.” - -“Ha, ha! of course I do not. But why do you ask?” - -It was plain that the laugh was forced, and that the villain was not a -little disconcerted by the question put to him. He was thinking of a -night not long gone, which would ever be fresh in his memory, should he -live a hundred years. There were a few gray hairs on his temples now, the -effects of that night’s fright. - -“The raison why I ax,” said Mike, “is this: I saw one!” - -“What! saw a ghost? Nonsense.” - -“Yis, sur; a ginewine _sperit_. Ye know there’s a big sinsation ’bout -that Moreland gurril. They say she mates a sthranger ivery night, out -there where masther Russell’s grave is. (Wirra! wirra! phat good masthers -they were, to be sure—Russell an’ the doctor!) Well, me curiosity got -the upper hand iv me, Jamie, an’ I thought I’d thry an’ git a glimpse iv -the sthranger that iverybody was talkin’ about. So last avenin’ I went -out there in the woods all alone. I hid mesilf in the bushes, an’ while -I was layin’ there, phat d’ yeez think come along? _The ghost iv Russell -Trafford!_” - -Jim McCabe closed his white lips tightly over his teeth, with a mighty -effort to control himself. This conclusion of Mike Terry’s recital was -just what he had expected, but it was none the less startling for that -fact. Up to this time he had thought it possible that he was laboring -under a mysterious illusion, but, now that another had seen the same -thing, every doubt fled. - -“You positively saw this?” he said to Mike. - -“Yis,” said Mike, “an’ I was dridfully scairt.” - -“Was the ‘ghost,’ as you call it, alone?” - -“Entirely alone; an’ I was scairt half out iv me wits.” - -“Did nobody join him there?” - -“Faith! I didn’t wait to see. I took to me heels like a strake iv gr’ased -lightin’. Musha! musha! I niver was so scairt before.” - -McCabe mused awhile, and then asked: - -“You don’t believe in ghosts, Mike?” - -“Och, but I do, though,” asserted the Irish boy. “Me father used to -belave in ’em, ye know, an’ he used to till long sthories about ’em that -’ud raise the hair iv me to hear.” - -“Pshaw! your father was a drunken sot.” - -“Yis; he resimbled, in that respect, yer own dear silf,” said Mike, with -a flash of his old jocoseness. “But, Jamie,” he added, seriously, “av I -had niver belaved in sperits before, I couldn’t help doin’ it now, afther -phat I’ve been an’ seen.” - -“Come with me, cousin,” said McCabe, in a changed tone of voice. “Let us -go to my house and talk this thing over.” - -He linked his arm in that of the lad, and the two walked slowly on -together. - -No sooner were they gone from the spot where they had been conversing, -than a man stepped out from behind a tree, and stalked away as calmly as -if nothing had been said in his hearing. - -Again it was Nick Robbins! - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -CLOUDED HEARTS. - - -The day soon came that was to witness the departure of the Morelands, and -there was much ado in preparing for the down-river journey. They were not -to start until nightfall, as they had been repeatedly advised to travel -wholly by night, and lie in concealment during the day. The woods at that -time were swarming with hostile Indians, who, indignant at the increasing -tide of white humanity that was flowing westward and spreading over their -broad domains, were watching continually for flatboats and overland -emigrants. Many and horrible were the massacres perpetrated on those -daring souls who turned their backs on civilization to brave the dangers -of the great western wilderness and clear the way for those to come -thereafter. At such a time as this, then, it was well understood that -the voyage of the Morelands would be beset with innumerable dangers, -but to undertake it in the broad light of day, would seem almost like -throwing their lives away. But even under cover of darkness they were not -permitted to go alone. The commandant at the block-house selected a dozen -good men to accompany them down the river as an escort. - -Isabel was not apprised of the project in view, until the afternoon -preceding the evening of their departure. When informed that they were -going to take up their abode at another fort, miles away, she took -no pains to conceal her astonishment, but prudently refrained from -asking questions. It was plain that she suspicioned the true cause of -this strange decision on the part of her father, but the troubled look -she wore, as she saw herself an object of distrust in the eyes of her -parents, was interpreted by them as deep regret at being compelled to -leave her new lover. - -Isabel was standing in the door, looking very beautiful and very sad, -when Jim McCabe, who always seemed lying in wait for this sort of an -opportunity to gain an interview, stepped up to her, and doffed his hat -with an attempt at politeness. She would have retreated had she seen him -approaching, but he had spoken to her before she knew he was nigh. - -“Miss Moreland,” he said, leaning against the house, and looking up at -her with a bland smile, “I hear you are about to leave us?” - -“Yes, sir,” she answered, briefly. - -“I—I—am really sorry, Miss Moreland,” he continued, feigning -embarrassment, “that we are doomed to be deprived of the brightest star -that lights the little world within these palisades. I presume, though, -that you have friends here with whom you are equally as sorry to part. Am -I not right?” - -“It is never a pleasure to part with one’s friends.” - -“Very true; and you will leave a great many friends behind you,” said -McCabe, feeling his way cautiously. - -“I trust you are right,” replied Isabel, coldly. “It is not pleasant to -reflect that our pathway of life is surrounded by enemies alone.” - -“And yet such may be the case,” hinted the man. - -Observing nothing serious behind these words, Isabel was silent. - -“Miss Moreland,” he resumed, “I suppose you know nothing of the -slanderous reports that have been circulated at your expense?” - -“I do not understand.” - -“Then listen. We were speaking of friends; it is my opinion that you have -comparatively few at present.” - -“Explain yourself.” - -“I will. But, first—begging your pardon—let me be so presumptuous as to -ask you a question. Have you recently been meeting a man, at a certain -hour of the night, out yonder by the grave of Russell Trafford?” - -He looked keenly at her, but was disappointed in what he saw. Her face -expressed nothing but astonishment and offended pride. - -“Sir, you are impertinent,” she exclaimed. - -“I ask a simple question.” - -“I say you speak in riddles.” - -“Then I will be more explicit. For a week your supposed unwomanly conduct -has been the talk of the whole village. They say that you have been led -astray by an entire stranger, who has won your affections, and whom you -have been meeting at an unbecoming hour and place. I need hardly tell you -that I have met this wicked rumor with the contempt it deserves, but, I -am sorry to say, that in which I have no faith is believed by every one -else.” - -Isabel Moreland bit her lip hard to stop its quivering, and the rich -color came and went beneath the transparent surface of her cheeks. It was -all plain to her now. At last she had explanation of the great change -that had taken place in her former friends, and she knew why they treated -her so coldly. She was silent for some time, and then, flashing her big, -black eyes upon McCabe, she gave him a look that seemed to burn into his -very soul. - -“I know who started that report,” she said. - -“What—you know who—well?” - -“_You_ did it, sir!” - -“Eh?” - -“I say, sir, that _you_ were the originator of the malicious report of -which you take delight in telling me.” - -“I beg your pardon, madam, if I see fit to dispute your word, but I must -say, in defense of myself, that you are speaking under a sad mistake. Why -do you think me guilty of this wicked thing? Ah, I know. You are thinking -of the night when I saw you in the glade, clasped in the embrace of that -stranger.” - -The girl dropped her eyes in confusion. Her heart heaved tumultuously -with conflicting emotions, and a sinister smile curled his thin lips as -he observed it. - -“Still,” continued the brute, “you wrong me in attributing the origin of -that report to me. I was not certain that the woman I saw that evening -was you, though it is true I noted the resemblance. On my word of honor, -Miss Moreland, I have not opened my mouth until this moment concerning -that of which I chanced to be a witness. There are several others who -have seen the same thing that I saw, and have been gossiping about it at -a fearful rate. The story has been related to me fifty times, perhaps, -and, although I have cursed the gabbling idiots, and formed numberless -excuses in your defense, they only laugh at my skepticism and declare -that I am in love. Believe me, I have tried to be your friend through -this ordeal, and I feel that I am only doing the duty of a friend in -letting you know to what a humiliating extent you are being imposed upon.” - -Having relieved himself of this speech, McCabe fancied he had said the -right thing in the right place, and looked vastly important as he awaited -an answer. Isabel composed herself with difficulty, but when she spoke -again it was quite calmly. - -“Does my father know of this?” she asked. - -“He does. Both your father and mother have been repeatedly told of it, if -I am rightly informed.” - -The girl was silent again. - -“Miss Moreland,” pursued the profligate, taking a step nearer, “I have -told you how firmly I have espoused your cause, and proved myself your -devoted friend through all. I am certain that you have the best of -reasons for meeting this so-called stranger—a reason which, although it -is sufficient to excuse you from censure, you are not yet at liberty to -divulge. Darling, I am the only one who has faith in your innocence. I -know you are too good, too pure—” - -“Cease your mockery, villain!” cried Isabel, her whole manner changing -in an instant. “Leave me at once, and see that you never open your foul -mouth to address me again! I have been blind heretofore, but I now see -your object in lionizing yourself in my presence! Be off! I hate you! I -loathe you!” - -Jim McCabe was somewhat taken aback by this outburst. Passion getting the -best of him, his face became livid; he clenched his hands involuntarily, -and gnashed his teeth like a maddened brute. - -“Go, execrable wretch!” commanded Isabel. “I see my father coming; take -yourself off immediately, or I shall ask him to assist you.” - -“Your father, indeed,” laughed McCabe, in a sort of ecstasy of rage. -“Little does he now care for his deceitful, perfidious daughter. He -won’t think it possible for anybody to insult her after all that has -been revealed to him. Listen, Isabel Moreland; I leave you now at your -command, but, mark my word, two days shall not pass away before we meet -again; and you will be in my power!” - -The next moment he was gone. - -Isabel entered the house, and at once sought her little chamber, there -to be alone with her thoughts and tears. She understood now why she was -about to be taken away from her present home, and it grieved her to think -her parents had lost confidence in her. But, she could not undeceive them -now, and, since hearing what she had heard, she was glad that she was -going away, knowing it was better thus than to remain there an object of -scorn. There was no help for her unhappiness at present; none knew that -better than she; but she felt assured that all would be well in good -time, and so tried hard to be contented with her lot. - -When night came she went with her parents to the river which flowed -by within three hundred yards of the settlement. On reaching the bank -they found the escort waiting—stalwart, sturdy-looking rangers, all -armed to the teeth. There were two large boats lying close up under the -river-bank, one of them being occupied by eight of the men, and the other -by the remaining four, which latter was also to carry the family. - -Mr. and Mrs. Moreland at once took their places in the boat, but Isabel -hesitated. - -“Come, child,” said her mother; “step in, and sit down here by me. I -suspect the men are impatient to be off.” - -The men were taking up their oars, preparatory to starting. - -“Mamma,” said Isabel, “I have forgotten something.” - -“Forgotten something?” - -“Yes.” - -“What is it? Nothing of importance, I hope, for we can not tarry until -you return for it.” - -“But it _is_ of importance, mamma. It is that pretty case of trinkets -that father gave me, and among its contents is that golden locket which I -prize so highly, containing the pictures of yourself and papa. I placed -it on the mantle-piece in the front room just before starting, intending -to get it as I came out. I must go back now, for I can not lose it.” - -“There is no necessity for either the one or the other,” put in her -father, a little sharply. “We can not wait here until you obtain it, so -get in here with your mother and let us be gone.” - -“I will not be absent long,” persisted the maiden. - -“Too long to keep us waiting. Please take your place in the boat, and say -no more about it. Your case of trinkets will not be lost, depend upon -it. We can speak to old Kirby Kidd, and have him bring it to you, as you -know he frequently makes a trip between the two forts. The men have been -waiting here long enough already to try their patience, and I’m sure they -don’t relish the idea of a longer delay.” - -“Yer father’s right, miss,” said one of the rangers, respectfully. “I -don’t want to oppose ye, but hyur’s as calculates yer father’s right; -’cause why? we got to go a consid’rable ways afore mornin’.” - -“Not so very fur,” said another. “We’ve only to make two-thirds o’ the -distance to-night, an’ that ain’t more’n ten mile, ye know. We’ve got to -stop at that island, Jack, that Kidd was tellin’ us about, and lay thar -till to-morrer night ’fore completin’ the journey. The gal’s got plenty -o’ time to git her valu’bles.” - -“There, father; what do you say to that?” cried Isabel. - -“I say, my child, that I myself will go back after your treasure,” said -Mr. Moreland, preparing to step out of the boat. - -“No, papa; no, no, no!” contested the daughter, earnestly. “I will go -myself. I can go more quickly, you know.” - -And, before he could expostulate, she had turned and tripped lightly up -the bank, and in another moment had disappeared in the darkness. - -As Isabel hurried through the woods toward the settlement, she murmured -to herself: - -“Poor papa and mamma! It goes to my heart to look upon them in their -deep sorrow, conscious that I could relieve them of their trouble by a -word. It is hard to deceive them, who love me so dearly, but I am sure -they will forgive me when they know all. My case of trinkets I left for -an excuse to return. God forgive me! I believe it is all for the best. I -must hurry and get the case, and then keep my appointment with _him_.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE MYSTERY DEEPENS. - - -Jim McCabe had formed a villainous plot when he heard that the Morelands -were about to remove down the river, and, now that they were gone, he -proceeded at once to put it into execution. He had had this plot in -his mind when he told Isabel that she would be in his power before the -lapse of two days, and he vowed again and again to himself that his -scheme should be carried out to the letter. He was a desperate man -when aroused to a frenzy by repeated reverses, and, now that he had -been cast off in anger by the woman he had hoped to win by fair means, -he swore by all that was good and bad that she should be his in spite -of all opposition. He had committed worse deeds than this he had in -contemplation; therefore he did not hesitate to undertake it on the -score of conscientious scruples. - -That night, as soon as the Moreland family had set out for the river, -McCabe went to his cabin, armed himself with a gun, pistol and knife, -secured about his person an ample supply of ammunition, and otherwise -equipped himself in a manner indicating a dangerous journey in view. - -This done, which took considerable time, he left the fort without delay. -As he passed out he stopped at the gate long enough to inform the sentry -that he need not be expected back that night, as he would be gone two -days or more. The sentry indulged in a prolonged whistle of surprise, and -looked closely at the man, observing that his face was flushed redder -than usual and that his eyes shone with an unnatural light. - -“Whar the nation be ye goin’?” he asked, suspiciously. - -“No matter,” muttered the villain, and then he hurried on to avoid -further questioning, leaving the sentry to conjecture that “the blamed -cuss was up to some new piece o’ deviltry.” - -“I wonder if I’ll succeed?” mused McCabe, as he hastened on through -the darkness. “If I can find Simon Girty before the game has reached a -place of refuge, success is certain; but the question is, will I find -him? Without his services I can see how the thing will result; but if -he is not to be found I shall undertake the task alone at all hazards, -rather than throw up my hand without an attempt to win. Christopher! -wouldn’t there be a big _furore_ at the fort should my intimacy with -that notorious renegade, Girty, be discovered? My life wouldn’t be worth -shucks. I would be thrown into confinement beyond a doubt, and then, when -the innocence of the place was wrapped in slumber, an infuriated mob -would take me out and string me up with a little less ceremony than was -awarded to Russell Trafford. By the way—” - -Jim McCabe stopped suddenly, and stood stock-still. An idea struck him. -He trembled to think of such a thing, yet he was seized with a desire to -look once more on the grave of Russell Trafford before going away! To be -sure he had not effaced a previous occasion from his memory, when such -a desire led him to the most terrible fright he had ever received; but -this time the attraction was stronger than before, and he half-believed -that he might now gloat over the grave of his rival undisturbed. Isabel -Moreland had gone away, and she could not meet anybody there now, ghost -or mortal, so he deemed it probable that he would find the coast clear -to-night. - -He acted upon the irresistible impulse, and that without any unnecessary -loss of time, for he had evidently begun a journey that would not admit -of procrastination. Turning aside from the course he had been pursuing, -he bent his footsteps toward the glade. He looked to the priming of -his gun, and began to exercise caution as he proceeded, for fear that -somebody was indeed there, who would be apprised of his approach unless -he stepped with care. - -“Of course nobody is there,” he said to himself, “but it is best to be -careful. I wish I could forget that I ever saw any thing frightful in -that haunted place; but even rum has lost its power to drown the memory -of that awful night. I can no longer doubt that it was a spirit I saw, -for Kirby Kidd, and Wapawah, and Nick Robbins were there, and they saw -nothing. But how can I account for _her_ being there in the embrace of -that unearthly shadow? She, a living mortal, holding tryst with a—Well, -it is simply inexplicable, and it drives me to distraction to think of -it. Could it have been my imagination, after all, that made his face -resemble that one under the ground? My mind was full of Trafford, and it -is not very strange that I should fancy a resemblance. But no. I have -discarded that idea a hundred times already, because it isn’t possible -that I could be so deceived. True, every one else who has seen him -declares that he is a stranger, but they all admit that they did not -obtain a fair view of his face.” - -While thus communing with himself, McCabe was moving along slowly and -cautiously, scarcely misplacing a twig, or rustling a leaf, in his -progress. But, no sooner had he finished his monologue than he suddenly -came to a dead halt, and bent forward in a listening attitude. - -No wonder, for he distinctly heard the low hum of voices, rising and -falling in calm, smooth tones, as if engaged in friendly and familiar -conversation. The sound came from some point directly in front of -him—evidently from the glade! - -The profligate began to tremble with fear. His first impulse was to take -to his heels, and make them do good service until he was far away from -that vicinity; but before he could follow this impulse he had recovered -his courage. Repenting his temporary weakness, he determined to be bold, -and then curiosity came to his assistance, and he resolved to find out -who the parties were who had preceded him. Surely they were not the same -he had seen there, for he knew that Isabel had gone away with her father -and mother. But he must see to know, and see he would. - -Dropping down on his hands and knees, he advanced stealthily toward the -glade, as the panther approaches its prey. The voices grew more distinct -as he drew nearer to the speakers, and once or twice he paused to listen -as he fancied he detected the dulcet tones of a female voice. But he -could not be certain. - -When he had gone so far that he could go no further without exposing -himself to the parties from whom he was hiding, he stopped and rose -slowly to his feet behind a large tree. He was gratified to find that he -had reached this place of concealment without being discovered, and he -now observed that it was an excellent point from which to view the whole -length of the glade. Peering around the tree slyly, he looked out into -the opening. - -There, sure enough, were two human forms sitting side by side on the -grave! One of them was that of a woman, too, as he could plainly see, -and the other was a fine-looking man, bareheaded and dressed in a suit -of somber black. Her hands were in his, and they were looking into -each other’s eyes in a manner that could not be mistaken. They were -conversing pleasantly, but in such low tones that few of the words were -distinguishable. Jim McCabe leaned forward to give them a closer look. -The next instant his knees struck together, his eyes started half out of -their sockets, and he scarcely suppressed the cry that sprung to his lips. - -The man and woman sitting on the grave were Russell Trafford and Isabel -Moreland! - -It would be difficult to describe the feelings that harrowed the -villain’s breast as he made this discovery, but fear, amazement, and -indomitable rage were predominant. This time the appearance of the girl -there was more wonderful than that of the man, to him, for he deemed -it not nearly so strange for a spirit to walk the earth, as he did for -a human being to be present at two places at the same time; and he had -certainly seen Isabel go away with her parents that evening. - -When his fear had subsided his blood began to boil with furious anger, -as on the first occasion. He not only found it impossible to control -himself, but he scarcely knew what he did. - -“By the Eternal!” he shrieked, “’tis the second time I have been fated -to look on this scene, and if that man is not a ghost he shall be one in -less than a minute! Curse you, take that!” - -McCabe threw up his rifle and leveled it at the couple on the grave. He -did not aim at the man particularly. In his fierce passion he cared but -little which one he shot. - -There was a flash and a report, followed by a suppressed scream. Then Jim -McCabe leaped out from behind the tree, clubbed his gun and bounded out -into the open glade. He dashed through the cloud of smoke that had been -caused by the discharge of his piece, and in another moment was standing -beside the grave. - -_Nobody was there!_ The baffled wretch glared about him like a madman. -Not a living thing was within range of his gleaming eyes! Not the -slightest sound of a footstep told him that they had fled from him. -What had become of them so quickly? Had his aim proved untrue? and -had they made good their escape in so short a space of time, and so -noiselessly that they could not be heard? These, and a score of similar -questions, flashed through the bewildered man’s mind, as he stood by the -grave, staring wildly around and listening in vain for the sound of a -retreating footstep. He knew he had seen them sitting there where he was -now standing; but how they had vanished so quickly was an unfathomable -mystery. He walked round the edge of the wood, looking behind trees, and -thrusting the barrel of his gun into the bushes, but discovered no trace -of those for whom he was searching. Then he stopped and pressed his hand -to his brow, with an effort to calm his excited brain. - -“I must be doomed,” he thought. “I have heard of people seeing such -visions, but they always die shortly afterward.” - -“Hallo, stranger! How dew you dew?” called out a sharp, nasal voice at -that juncture. - -McCabe whirled round and placed himself on the defensive in a twinkling. -But he instantly lowered his weapon with a show of recognition, as he -found himself face to face with a singular-looking specimen of the -_genus_ _homo_, who wore a blue swallow-tail coat, and a tall white hat -with the nap brushed the wrong way. It was the Yankee clock-peddler, who -had been hanging about the settlement for the last week or two, and who, -it will be remembered, had previously introduced himself to McCabe, much -to that gentleman’s vexation. - -“_You_ here?” he exclaimed, staring in wonder at the intruder, as the -latter grasped his hand in an iron gripe, and began to talk to him -familiarly. - -“Wal, yas,” answered the Yankee, with a huge grin; “I calkilate this is -_me_, and ef it _is_ me I’m _here_. As Tabitha Simpson used tew say—” - -“How came you here?” demanded McCabe, uneasily. - -“Now I consider that a leetle tew steep, mister,” declared the -clock-peddler, gravely. “I’m Jonathan Boggs, all the way from Maine, and -I’m ’customed tew dewin’ jest as I darn please when I’m tew hum, and I -guess I mought venture tew foller up the rule out in these diggin’s. When -mother told me as how I shouldn’t go tew a corn-shuckin’ one night, I -swore I’d dew as I pleased about it, and I _did_—but I tuck the headache, -though, and concluded to stay hum. When I robbed neighbor Green’s -hen-roost, I found it convenient to slope, and I _sloped_, ’thout axin’ -the advice or opinion of anybody; and you may tear every brass button off -o’ my coat ef I go back till they promise to let me alone. How came me -here? did you ask? I swan tew man—” - -“Stop!” cried McCabe. “Tell me, how long have you been here?” - -“’Bout five feet ten, ’cordin’ tew last measure; but maybe I am longer ’n -that now, seein’ I’ve growed some since I left Maine.” - -“No, no!” said the other, impatiently; “you misunderstood me. What length -of time have you been here?” - -“Been where?” - -“Why, here, in the vicinity—this spot?” - -“Wal,” drawled the Yankee, scratching his head, “I s’pect I been in this -vicinity several minutes, ef not longer.” - -“Have you seen any thing while you were here?” - -“See’d any thing? Wal, not a great deal. It’s rayther tew darkish, like, -tew see any thing, ain’t it, mister?” - -“I—I don’t know. Did you _hear_ any thing, then?” - -Jonathan Boggs took a step backward, hung his tall hat on the back part -of his head, thrust his hands into his pockets, and gave the inquisitive -man a most searching look. - -“See here!” he exclaimed, “what dew you take me for?” - -“Eh?” - -“Are you pokin’ fun at me, or not?” - -“Most assuredly not!” - -“Then what’s the matter—say? You ax more foolish questions than a child -’ud think of, and I won’t stand it. I’m Jonathan Boggs of Maine, _I_ am, -and I’m a full-fledged game-chicken with an eye to biziness. I’m a hull -team, with an extra hoss for up-hill emergencies, and ef you think you -can out-pull me, hitch on behind and stretch yourself. I’m a reg’lar -screecher, and can whip my weight in famished bed-bugs, without the least -assistance from any quarter whatsumever, and drat my skin ef I cain’t -pump the cuss dry as says I can’t squint the bark off of a beech-limb! -I’ve got a powerful reach; I can pull a nigger’s hair at ten yards!” - -How long the clock-peddler would have continued to enumerate his -wonderful qualifications, must forever remain unknown, as Jim McCabe soon -saw proper to interrupt him. - -“For heaven’s sake desist,” he pleaded. “You are offended because I asked -you a question. I have an object, I assure you.” - -The “down-east” specimen seemed to relent at this. - -“Maybe I’m in the wrong,” he said, after a pause. “I believe you axed me -ef I’d heern any thing?” - -“Yes.” - -“Now that is a queer question, and no mistake. Heern any thing! Drat -it, man, d’ you s’pose I’m deef? How could I help hearin’ you when -you screeched out like a red Injun, and shot a salute over the last -restin’-place o’ the poor cuss as sleeps beneath this sod?” - -“Did you hear that?” - -“Did I? Why, chaw me up, I thought at first you was bangin’ away at me, -and I flew tew kiver in the jerk of a possum’s ear.” - -“Where were you?” - -“Where was I? When you let that dot-rotted gun o’ your’n go off I was -settin’ right thar on that grave—” - -“_What!_” - -Jim McCabe staggered back like a drunken man, with blanched face and -staring eyes! - -“Lord, mister, what’s the matter?” asked the Yankee. - -“Noth—nothing,” stammered the ruffian, with a mighty effort to compose -himself. “It’s—it’s nothing—at all. I—never mind—only a slight -ner—nervous attack. I believe you said you were sitting on the grave when -I discharged my piece?” - -“That’s jest what I said.” - -“And who was with you?” - -“Me, and myself, and Jonathan Boggs. Nobody was with me.” - -“You were alone, then?” - -“Yas.” - -“You _lie_!” almost screamed the profligate. - -“Hey!” ejaculated the Yankee. “See here, mister, that ’ere’s a _mighty_ -strong expression for a man o’ your heft tew spout forth tew a State o’ -Maine wild-cat. I’ve a powerful itchin’ tew swipe you one across the bill -for that, you goll-darn, sneakin’, ignominious fag-end o’ creation, you! -By the jumpin’ Jemima! ef I didn’t know you was subject to crazy-spells, -I’m blowed ef I wouldn’t paint your cheeks for you. I lie, dew I? Oh, -wade intew me, and let me knock you intew a grease-spot. Lucky for you, -mister, that you ain’t smart, for ef you was I’d do like Tabitha Simpson -used tew say her brother done—” - -But Jim McCabe waited to hear no more. Suddenly remembering that he was -wasting precious moments, and beginning to entertain a perfect horror -of that spot, he determined to be off without further loss of time. -Shouldering his gun, he strode past Boggs without a word, and walked -rapidly away. - -“Hold on!” shouted Jonathan. “Where you gwine tew?” - -“Go to the devil!” was the savage response. - -“The same tew yew and yewr’n,” called out the imperturbable -clock-peddler. Jim McCabe made no reply to this, but plunged resolutely -into the gloomy forest, and resumed his night-journey toward the west. -His nerves were completely shattered, and he shook as if he were -afflicted with ague, but he set his face firmly against all obstacles, -and pushed steadily on. - -“I wonder if I really am subject to spells of insanity?” he whispered, -shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t think of that, till that fellow -mentioned it. He said _he_ was sitting on the grave when I shot, and I -could take my oath I saw Trafford and Miss Moreland there as plain as I -ever saw them in my life. Good God! what can it mean? Surely I could not -be insane without knowing it afterward, but how else can it be explained? -Oh, this will drive me mad if I don’t banish it from my mind. I almost -wish I had not committed that awful deed, but now that it is done, I -shall gain my purpose or die! Yes, by the stars in yonder sky, that -haughty girl shall be mine ere the setting of two more suns.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -BOGGS ADRIFT. - - -“I wonder what detains Isabel?” said Mrs. Moreland, for the twentieth -time, perhaps, as she and the rest of the party sat in the boats, -awaiting the maiden’s return. - -“I can not guess,” said her husband, uneasily, at the same time listening -intently, with the hope of catching the sound of that familiar footstep -in the woods above. “She has been gone long enough, almost, to have gone -there and back three or four times, and she gave us to understand before -starting that she would not be absent a greater while than it would -require to run home, procure her case of trinkets, and return.” - -“Perhaps,” continued the fond mother, willing to believe any thing that -would excuse the absent one, “perhaps she has met a friend, who has so -much to say at parting that she finds it difficult to tear herself away.” - -Mr. Moreland shook his head. - -“Not that, I’ll warrant. Isabel isn’t the girl to tarry for so slight -a cause, when she has promised to go and come quickly. Besides, since -her recent misdemeanor, I can think of no one, alas! who regards her -as a friend. I think I will go in search of her; we are losing time in -waiting.” - -“I wouldn’t do any sech thing, Mr. Moreland,” said one of the rangers. -“’Tain’t likely ’ut harm has befell the gal ’twixt this an’ the fort, an’ -ye knows nothin’ has happened to her _thar_. Jest keep yer seat; she’ll -be hyur in a minute, I take it.” - -“But you forget the loss of time.” - -“I forgit nothin’. What’s a few minutes spent in idleness at sech a time -as this? How long are it goin’ to take us to travel ten mile with the -current? We mought make’t long ’fore mornin’.” - -“True; I did not think of that. But, since that is the case, why would it -not be possible to make the entire distance without stopping, provided we -left here early in the evening?” - -“We mought do it easy, ’cause I don’t reckon it’s more’n fifteen or -sixteen mile, and the course lays down-stream. But ye must b’ar in mind, -prudence has the preference over every thing. Never make haste ag’in’ -prudence, whatever ye does. Us fellers wa’n’t sent with yer to row yer -boats an’ shuffle ye off down’t t’other fort in a jiffy. We’re with ye -to protect ye from danger if needcessary, an’ eff we go rattlin’ off as -fast as we kin lug the oars, I opine it’ll soon be needcessary. The moon -are settin’ now, an’ in five minutes it’ll be darker’n a stack o’ black -cats. It’s goin’ to take a cute noddle, I s’pect, to keep the boats in -the middle o’ the river, an’ precious little rowin’ will be did, ’cept to -guide ’em, ’cause we must have complete silence the whole way through. -We’ll pass more’n one Injun camp-fire, I make no doubt, an’ who knows but -we may run into a nest o’ the skunks on the very island whar we are to -stop?” - -“Hist! Listen!” exclaimed Mrs. Moreland, at this point in the -conversation. “I believe I heard our daughter’s voice.” - -The two men paused and listened. - -“Thar’s somebody comin’, to a sartainty,” said the ranger, hearing the -snapping of twigs occasioned by a footfall in the woods. - -“Very true, and I presume—Hark!” - -A peal of clear, rippling laughter fell upon their ears. - -“Why, what does that mean?” said Mr. Moreland, in surprise. “That is our -daughter, without a doubt, but she is not alone. Hear! she is talking -with some person.” - -“Only a friend, I suppose, who has accompanied her to the river to see -her off,” returned his wife. - -“Well, here they are. We can see who it is.” - -At that moment two persons appeared on the bank above them. - -One of them was Isabel, truly, but the other was a _man_. He was rather a -singular-looking man, too, as we have already observed several times in -the course of our story; a man with lank, yellow hair, a tall white hat, -and a sharp, nasal voice, who wore a long, swallow-tail blue, with brass -buttons scattered promiscuously upon it! This was the individual who -burst upon the view of the voyagers in the company of the young girl. - -“Skulp me ef ’tain’t that ar’ clock-peddler, as sez he’s from Maine,” -chuckled one of the men. - -“It is, or I’m a skunk,” chimed in another. - -“Hallo, thar, Boggs,” called a third. “What in the name of the Old -Scratch are you doin’ hyur?” - -“Isabel,” said Mr. Moreland, almost sternly, “get in the boat quickly, -and let us be off. You have already detained us much longer than was -necessary.” - -“Oh, papa, my delay was unavoidable,” cried Isabel, as she stepped in. -“But, look, papa, here is a gentleman who wishes to accompany us. Is -there room for him?” - -“A gentleman? Who is he?” - -“Jonathan Boggs, all the way from Maine!” ejaculated that individual -himself, coming down to the water’s edge with a single stride. “Here I -be, every bit o’ me, an’ a foot or two to spare. Want tew buy a clock?” - -The Yankee drew himself up to his full hight, and coolly scanned the crew -of each vessel. - -“It strikes me I have seen you before,” said Mr. Moreland, after -surveying the New Englander from head to foot. - -“Wal, then, you may view me _behind_ awhile,” returned the man, with the -utmost nonchalance, quietly turning his back toward the voyagers as he -spoke. - -“No, no; you did not understand me correctly,” said the settler, smiling. -“Come; look here.” - -The clock-vender turned slowly around again, seeming puzzled by the low, -chuckling laugh which ran through the party of hunters. - -“Your name is Boggs?” asked Mr. Moreland. - -“Yas, all the way from Maine,” was the quick reply. - -“And you are going to the same fort we are bound for?” - -“That ’ere’s what I calkilate on dewin’, ef I’m lucky ’nough tew obtain -deck-passage on one o’ these sloops. What d’ye think, governor? All the -berths taken? You see I might be o’ some use, as I’d be willin’ tew take -my turn at the paddles.” - -“Well, my friend, you can be of no assistance to us in that way, but you -are at liberty to become one of us, if you wish. Get in.” - -“That’s the talk.” - -The Yankee stepped into the boat, and took a seat in the bow. There -being no cause for further delay, the word was now given to start, and -the loaded boats were at once put in motion. Moving slowly out, into the -current of the river, the little vessels glided away on their downward -course. - -“I s’pose you’ll do your share if it comes to fighting?” said one of the -men, addressing the Yankee. - -“My sheer?” was the astonished reply. “Now, see here, stranger, you ain’t -afeard, be you? But, never mind. Ef it comes tew fightin’, and you’d -rayther keep out o’ sight till it’s over, I guess I can take your part in -the tussle.” - -There was a low, guarded laugh at the interrogator’s expense. - -“But you are unarmed,” continued the ranger, undaunted. - -“Unarmed? Jumpin’ Jemima! can’t you see these arms? Jest look at that -reach! I can pull a nigger’s hair at ten yards!” - -“Yes, but you have no weapons.” - -“Weepins? Law, no, but what the ’tarnal creation do a Maine wild-cat -want o’ weepins! Jerewsilem! When I was a suckin’ cub in the manger I -had pistols and knives for playthings, but I’m a man now, and have no -further use for sech toys. Weepins! Ef an Injun should lose all respect -for hisself, so far as tew come ’ithin ten yards o’ this personage, I -tell you, stranger, he’d be apt tew run ag’in’ an iron weight as ’ud send -him tew grass in the shakin’ o’ a possum’s ear. Oh, I’m a squealer! I’m a -hard-shell snappin’-turkle from Sebago Pond! I’m an amphibious reptile, -and I’m game tew the spine on land or water! I’m a six-hoss team with -a mule tew lead, and ef you don’t believe it git up and ride. Let the -red-skins come at me, ef they think o’ no better way tew die. I’ll skelp -’em with a single look. I’ll blister their confounded mugs with a single -squint o’ my eye. Me? Darnation! I’m a-dewin’ business for old Mount -Ætna, and there’s fire, smoke and lava b’ilin’ inside o’ me—” - -“Say,” interrupted a man in the other boat; “jest cause that noisy chap -to shet his meat-trap will yer?” - -Jonathan Boggs needed no further bidding, and in silence the two boats -drifted on through the increasing gloom. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -TWO WELL-MATCHED VILLAINS. - - -To a spot about ten miles distant from the settlement we now ask the -attention of the indulgent reader. - -It is the morning following the night whose events we have just -described; the sun has risen in a cloudless sky, and Nature seems -exerting herself to make existence in this world desirable. It is a -lovely morning, made refreshing by a steady breeze, and the trees ring -with the lays of a thousand feathered warblers singing glad welcome to -the orb of day. - -At a place where the wood is thickest a man is moving along with -stealthy, cat-like steps, dodging from tree to tree in a very curious -manner. He is a man of medium proportions, wearing the buck-skin garb -of a hunter, and armed with the weapons usually carried by the early -pioneers and wood-rangers. From beneath a coon-skin cap, lank locks of -red hair fall just to his shoulders, and a coarse beard of the same hue -disfigures, rather than adorns, his face. There is an ugly patch on his -left check, and his right eye is completely hidden by a rough bandage -that is tied around his head, all giving him a decidedly unprepossessing, -if not repulsive, look. - -After this, it is perhaps superfluous to add that the hunter’s name is -Nick Robbins. As such he has doubtless been recognized, although it -is observable that there is much more expression on his visage than -usual. In fact, through the unhandsome exterior, beams a look of fine -intelligence that might lead one to suppose the backwoodsman has received -a thorough education at some time of his life. - -Nick Robbins is approaching a deep ravine that lies a short distance -away. He moves toward it step by step, with studied circumspection, his -quick eye flashing from right to left occasionally, but the greater part -of the time fastened upon the ravine in front. He creeps along with -that caution usually exercised by hunters when stealing upon the game, -or scouts when nearing an enemy’s camp, and yet he is the only person -or living thing in sight. It is evident, however, from his manner and -actions, that he is not only intent on reaching a certain point ahead, -but is extremely fearful that his footsteps will betray him to somebody -or something before he can reach it. - -“Strange that he should go there,” mutters the hunter. “Bad as he is, -I should never have supposed that he was leagued with the Indians. He -entered that ravine as he would have entered his own house, and I know -there is a bivouac of savages there. Very well, I shall soon know what -it means if I am not discovered, and who knows but at the same time I -may obtain proofs of the fellow’s guilt in that other affair? Of course -I am already satisfied in my own mind that he is the guilty party, but -despite the length of time that I have been a spy upon his movements, and -an eavesdropper to his conversations, I have not as yet heard a direct -affirmation that such is the truth. But something seems to tell me that -the crisis is at hand, and that to-morrow’s sun will reveal wonders to -many of our friends. I must now find out what new scheme this villain has -hatched.” - -Nick Robbins has, by this time, proceeded so far that a confused sound of -voices strike upon his ear, coming from the ravine in front. He crouches -down on all-fours, and crawls forward with redoubled caution. He sights a -wide, smooth ledge of rock, or plateau, that extends out over the gully, -and toward this he worms himself, taking great care that he moves no -stone in his progress. - -He reaches the level platform of rock. He draws himself up to the edge -of it, and looks down. Finding that he has chosen the proper point for -observation, he lies flat upon his breast and begins to contemplate the -scene below him with no slight degree of interest. - -A tiny stream ripples through the ravine. On one side of it is a large -camp-fire, around which a band of Indians is congregated, sitting or -reclining in various attitudes, some breakfasting and some smoking, while -others are doing nothing. They number about thirty souls in all, and a -single glance at them discovers more than one evidence of the fact that -they are, or recently have been, on the war-path. This fact is shown by -their scantiness of dress and abundance of paint, they being incumbered -with no other garments than leggins and moccasins, and their bodies and -faces being plentifully bedaubed with red and yellow ocher. It is further -shown by the manner in which they are armed, as they all carry the deadly -fire-arms of the white man, instead of the customary bow and arrow; -whereas they would prefer the latter weapon on a hunting expedition. But -the horrid truth is most loudly proclaimed by the scalps which hang at -their girdles, and which have doubtless been torn from the heads of the -slaughtered pale-faces. - -The gaze of Robbins does not long linger on this savage band. There are -others there who claim his attention. At some distance from the main body -of Indians, and directly under the rocky ledge on which he is lying, two -men stand conversing. - -Of these two men, one is no less a personage than the despicable -profligate, Jim McCabe! The hunter evinces little surprise, but much -interest, as his eyes alight on this man, for he saw him enter the -ravine, and now only seeks an explanation of the fellow’s strange -actions. McCabe’s companion is obviously the chief, or leader, of the -war-party. His title to this distinction is revealed by his bearing, and -the superiority of his dress and adornments. To tell the color of his -skin it would be necessary to remove the thick covering of paint from his -face and body, but that he is _not_ an Indian, our spy begins to suspect -after the first look! A closer survey convinces him of this fact. There -are no high cheek-bones there—no sharp Roman nose—no stoical stoniness -of features—nor even that style of standing characteristic of his savage -followers. Besides this, he speaks the English language as fluently as -Jim McCabe himself. In all probability he is a white man—one of those -degraded, crime-hardened wretches, who forswear their own race forever, -that they may plunder and murder to their heart’s content, beyond the -restrictions of the law. - -“You are not looking well, my boy,” are the first words the hunter -distinguishes after taking his position on the rock, and it is the white -chief who gives utterance to them. - -“Am I not?” carelessly answers McCabe, who really has grown pale and -haggard since his adventure of last night. “I am not aware of any feeling -that may account for the look.” - -“For all that, you don’t look as healthy as when I saw you last. Maybe -you’ve done something bad, that preys on your mind too much for your own -good? Ha, ha! Or, likely, your friends have detected you in some of your -devilments, and in consequence you have just escaped from confinement -that was not extremely beneficial to your health? Which is it?” - -“Neither the one nor the other. Nothing like that you hint at has -occurred. I am still safe among those who think me their friend, and the -secret of my friendship with you and your red lambs, I have securely -locked in my own breast.” - -“And you will have occasion, sir, to thank your lucky stars that you are -on the good side of me and my red lambs, if we take it into our heads to -fall upon your place. But why don’t you explain your presence here? Seems -to me you’ve wandered quite a distance from your home.” - -“I should have wandered further, had I not met you,” said McCabe. “But, -before I give you the desired explanation, I wish you to tell me how it -happens that _you_ are here? I started out last night with the hope of -finding you before night should come again, but my hope grew less at -every step, and by dawn it had amounted almost to despair. I know where -your village is, but sober second thought told me I couldn’t reach it in -time to gain the object I have in view. How lucky that chance has thrown -me in your way at this early hour. Surely the devil is on my side.” - -“If not, you are on his side,” remarks the renegade, with a low laugh. -“But you wish to know why I am here? My story is quickly told. Over there -in the interior, a few miles from this point, there are three houses -standing all alone, known by the name of the ‘Three Inns.’ Maybe you’ve -seen or heard of them. Well, we waded into them last night, I and this -handful of braves, and these are the result.” - -The outlaw coolly points to a couple of gory scalps at his waist, and -then to a number of others carried in a like manner by the Indians. Even -Jim McCabe averts his eyes with a shudder. - -“Now, your business with me?” inquires the chief. - -“I will explain in a few words,” says McCabe. “Last evening a family -left our settlement, and started down the river under cover of the -darkness—removing, you see, to the first fort below. The family consists -only of the old gentleman, his wife and daughter.” - -“Their name?” interrupts the chief. - -“Is Moreland. Mr. Moreland has long been one of the leading spirits of -our place,” answers the other. - -“You say they are removing to the first fort below?” is the next inquiry. - -“Yes.” - -“Without an escort?” - -“Oh, not by any means. They are accompanied by a round dozen of armed -men. But what of that? You outnumber them two to one, and as your -braves have had a taste of blood, I am sure it has only sharpened their -appetites. Fact is, the Morelands haven’t completed their journey yet. -They have went into camp on an island in the center of the river, where -they intend spending the day. The island lies nearly opposite to this -spot. It is a long, narrow strip of land, thickly wooded on each side -with willow trees, and barren and rocky in the middle.” - -“I know which one you allude to,” interposes the chief, “and know exactly -where it lies. So the boating party has stopped there, eh? and your -object in all this palaver is to have me go over there and stir them up?” - -“That is it, precisely,” replies McCabe, rubbing his hands. “They say -the island affords pretty fair means for defense, but I am sure success -will attend you if you fall upon them when they are not suspecting such a -thing. Don’t spare them. Attack and butcher the whole set—_except one_.” - -“And that one?” - -“She is the daughter—Isabel Moreland. Don’t harm her, but bring her to -me, if you can possibly capture her. She is as beautiful as an oriole, -and I want her for a wife. I have attempted to make her mine in a -legitimate manner, but she has rejected me with scorn, and I must resort -to violence or lose her.” - -“Want a wife, do you? Surely, then, you will not think of returning to -the whites with your unwilling bride?” - -“No; that would be walking into the lion’s jaws after capturing one of -its cubs. Help me to get this lady, and then I will join the Indians, and -make their wigwams my future home!” - -“Good. But I can’t make the attack in the daytime.” - -“I haven’t asked you to.” - -“Yet you say the party will this evening continue their voyage.” - -“I will arrange that. They think I’m their friend, you know, and I will -go over to the island some time during the day, and make up a story that -will induce them to remain an hour after dark, thus giving you ample time -to make the attack.” - -The renegade reflects a moment. - -“Yes, that will do,” he mutters. “Prevail on them to tarry there an hour -after dark, and the game is ours. Should they leave the island before we -reach it, they stand a good chance of escape, for they have good boats -and strong oarsmen, and can outstrip our canoes in a chase. But, do your -part and I’ll do mine. Those fellows,” he adds, glancing at his band of -warriors, “will hail with joy this chance of adding more to the number of -scalps they have already taken. Yes, sir, this thing shall be done, as -certain as my name is _Simon Girty_!” - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -NICK ON A TRAIL. - - -Nick Robbins jumped back as if stung by an adder. Had a thunderbolt rent -the cloudless sky above him, he would scarcely have been taken more by -surprise than he was by the conclusion of the renegade’s last remark. -While listening to the conversation we have recorded, though certain the -chief was not an Indian, he had not once suspected that he was lying so -near that notorious traitor, who, in the last few years, had become the -terror of white settlers all through Kentucky and Ohio. _Simon Girty!_ -That name, coupled as it is with some of the most atrocious deeds that -ever darken the pages of history, was, at that time, as familiar as -household words to every ear on the border. And the hunter, as he thought -of it, recalled the incident, as he had often heard it, connected with -this man’s desertion of his race. How General Adrian Lewis had employed -Girty as a scout for his army, which was then stationed at Point -Pleasant—how the cruel General had beaten him so unmercifully with his -cane, because this brave and valuable scout had dared to ask pay for his -services—how the latter had fled with a fearful vow of vengeance—and how -terribly that vow was fulfilled. - -All this flashed through the mind of the eavesdropper, as that well-known -name struck upon his ear. But, quickly recovering from his surprise, he -leaned forward again and continued his listening, now with increased -interest. - -“Good!” cried McCabe. “I am glad you enter into my scheme so willingly. -You are a first-rate friend.” - -Simon Girty sneered. - -“Pooh! pooh! man, you don’t understand me. I doubt if I could induce -myself to do this thing if you were the only one to be benefited by the -massacre, although I will try to secure that girl and place her in your -arms alive. Pshaw! I am not what I used to be. I would not enter so -willingly in your little scheme if it did not possess the attraction of -blood! Ha! ha! I’m an Indian now, and it is pastime to lift the scalps -of the detested pale-faces. Ah, McCabe, experience has taught me that -revenge is sweet, sweet, sweet! Depend upon it, I will see that every -mother’s son of the white-livered devils becomes food for the buzzards -before another dawn. But to help me to bring this about, you must do your -duty by causing them to linger on the island a sufficient length of time -after dark, and you will do well to put them off their guard at the same -time, if you can.” - -“Trust me for that,” rejoined McCabe, earnestly. “I will go over to them -this afternoon, and the interval between this time and that, shall be -spent in planning the best way to deceive them. But how shall I get to -them? I have no means of going out to the island, unless I swim.” - -“There is no need of that. Concealed in a little cove, a short distance -above the island, are the canoes in which I and my warriors came over -here. You will have no difficulty in finding them. Go; take one of them, -sharpen your wits and play your part.” - -“I’ll do it, by Jove! Have no fears for me. If you don’t come off -victorious I shall not be to blame.” - -“I suppose not—unless you play me false.” - -“And you know I will not do that.” - -“I am not certain.” - -“Well,” laughed McCabe, “my deeds shall be proof of my fidelity. But -where will you remain till the time for action?” - -“Here,” replied Girty. “I shall not leave this spot before sundown.” - -“Very well; you know best how to act in a case like this. I will leave -you now, and as like as not I won’t see you again until after the fight -has taken place.” - -“Why? I want you to come back here toward evening, and report your -success, or failure, in your part of the performance.” - -“All right; I will do that, if you wish.” - -“And, also,” continued the renegade, “I hope to find you somewhere near -the boats when we go to the river to embark, so that you can take part in -the fight. You will make an addition of one, you know, to our side, and -I have no doubt we will need your services. Of course you will be there, -ready to accompany us!” - -“Ye-e-es, I suppose so,” was the hesitating answer. “But if I am _not_ -there you need not wait for me, as you will readily understand that I am -on duty at some other point. At all events, I shall not be absent when it -comes to fighting.” - -So saying, Jim McCabe turned on his heel and walked away, while Simon -Girty joined his warriors by the fire. - -Nick Robbins, as soon as he saw that the conference was at an end, slid -off the rock, sprung lightly to his feet, and glided swiftly away from -the spot. Stopping suddenly, however, he quickly jumped behind a tree, -and then he looked cautiously forth from his concealment to watch the -movements of the man whose villainous plot he had overhead. He saw Jim -McCabe come out of the ravine, and walk leisurely off in the direction -of the river, and observed the smile of evil triumph that lighted his -countenance as he went. - -The hunter’s mind was made up on the instant. - -“I’ll follow him,” he said to himself. “I’ll dog his footsteps, nor let -him leave my sight. I’ll do even more than that, for I think—yes, I’m -sure—that he may be easily deceived.” - -He slipped out from behind the tree, and started off in the tracks of -the unsuspecting ruffian, taking care to keep the latter in sight as he -followed. - -“Low, cowardly traitor!” he hissed, as if addressing the man in front of -him; “who would have thought you were leagued with that most terrible of -the white man’s enemies? Wicked as I knew you to be, I am surprised to -learn that you are a friend of the Indians, and doubly so that you are a -confederate of the worst apostate and murderer that ever lived. Wretch! -Fiend! I can not believe God will permit you to succeed, and if the stain -on Russell Trafford’s name is not purged away before the setting of -to-morrow’s sun, I have overrated my ability. Poor Isabel Moreland! She -shall not fall into the hands of that man if I can prevent it, nor shall -the massacre be so complete as they have pictured it. I will put them on -their guard, and I believe they can build fortifications that will enable -them to repulse the assailants without loss. They will be astonished when -I tell them Simon Girty is to lead the attack.” - -Thus cogitating, Nick Robbins followed the villain for some time longer, -neither allowing the distance between them to diminish nor increase. At -length Jim McCabe emerged from the woods, and stood upon the bank of the -river. - -The hunter did not hesitate then, but strode boldly forward and, without -the least ceremony, laid his hand on McCabe’s shoulder. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE TWO SCOUTS. - - -On this same morning another fire had been kindled for the preparation -of breakfast. This one is, at least, a mile below the Indian encampment, -and, unlike the latter, is close to the bank of the river, where the -rufescent flames cast a reddish light upon the water. Hemmed in on three -sides by a semi-circular ledge of rocks, this fire can not be seen -from any other point than the river in front, or its opposite shore. -And the author of it has shown his slyness, and knowledge of Indian -perspicacity, by using the material that causes the smoke to become -very nearly invisible by the time it reaches the hight of the rock. As -we have intimated, the fourth side of the glen opens toward the river, -and the least experienced in wild life could not but be struck with the -appropriateness for a camping-ground, or a place of concealment from the -savages. - -It is used for both this morning. There is but one man in the glen, a -grizzled old hunter, whose stature and general appearance approach the -gigantic, and he sits quietly by his fire, busily engaged in roasting a -wild duck. The man is Kirby Kidd. This we instantly observe as we look -upon his honest brown face, with its clear, penetrating eyes, long, -shaggy beard, and its expression of candor, simplicity and good humor. -A disposition of kindness and plain truthfulness is one of Kirby Kidd’s -characteristics, and it is ever reflected, not only in his countenance, -but also in his words and deeds, winning the love of all whom he meets on -a friendly footing. As he sits on the ground with his trusty rifle lying -across his lap, preparing his morning meal with that skill that can only -be the result of experience, he frequently lifts his head and darts a -glance at the opening in the rocks, so searching that nothing within its -scope escapes notice. True, he might do this at any other time, through -force of habit, but on this occasion a keen observer would detect more -than ordinary anxiety in his look. - -“Time Wapawah was back,” mutters the ranger, at last. “He went away -before daylight, an’ said he wouldn’t be gone long, but the sun’s up now, -and still he don’t show his noddle. Mold me into buckshot ef ’tain’t -beginnin’ to look a trifle suspicious! Maybe the cuss have poked his mug -into some sort of a diffikilty, an needs the ’sistance o’ these arms, -while I’m a-setting hyur as cool as a cowcumber in Jinawary, toastin’ -this duck fur the good o’ my stummick. A cuter red don’t walk the ’arth, -I allow, but thar’s times when the oldest on ’em gets hauled in. Bah! I -might gab in that strain from now till the world comes to an eend, an’ -I’d never make myself believe the cuss could be so blind as to put his -foot in a trap. In course thar’s Injun sign ev’rywhar jest now, but that -don’t signify danger to him. Sunkthin’ different from that keeps him -away, bet my skulp on’t, an’ when he does kum he’ll have a chapter o’ -news to relate, or I miss my guess. I wonder whar Nick Robbins are, ’bout -this time? He! he! ho! That ’ar coon’s sharper’n a steel-trap, an’ he’s -did first rate so fur, but I’m a leetle afeard he’s goin’ too fast to -succeed. Time’ll show, howsomever, an’ ef I ain’t powerful mistook the -thing will kum out all right in the eend. Wish the Injun ’ud return. I -ain’t oneasy, ’cause he knowed the woods wur full o’ _sign_ ’fore he went -out, an’ it don’t stan’ to reason ’ut he’ll be keerless; but then I want -to hear what he’s l’arned.” - -The fowl being by this time well roasted, the scout now removes it from -the ramrod, which serves for a spit, and falls to devouring it with a -keen relish. - -But he had scarcely commenced this when, with the quickness of thought, -he drops the duck and snatches up his rifle. At the same time he turns -his piercing eyes toward the river, as if trying to see something that is -not there. What he hears is only a low ripple in the water—or a sound, -rather, as of a fish leaping above the surface—but the experienced -ear of Kirby Kidd does not recognize it as such. He sits still and -listens, with his gun pushed forward ready to leap to his shoulder on a -second’s notice. Soon the smothered croak of a bull-frog, three times -in succession, comes from the water’s edge. Instantly the hunter’s face -brightens up with a gleam of recognition, and, running his fingers across -his lips while he whistles, he thrills forth a soft imitation of the -robin’s song. - -Now a tufted head rises slowly into view, followed by the body of -an Indian. The savage slips lightly up on the bank, without further -hesitation, and walks toward the fire with a graceful, dignified step, -exhibiting a form of faultless mold and muscular development. - -It is Wapawah, the friend and companion of the white hunter. - -“Wal, chief,” says the ranger, “ye’ve been gone long ’nough to l’arn how -the ground lies outside o’ this hole. Cuss me, ef I hadn’t begun to think -some bloody cuss had tuck a notion to them feathers o’ yourn.” - -“Me busy,” replied the Wyandott, briefly. - -“Sartin ye wur. Mought knowed nothin’ else ’ud keep you away, arter -sayin’ ye’d be back in a hurry. Thar’s Injuns around, but ye’re an Injun -yerself, an’ sharp enough to keep out o’ thar clutches, I take it. But -how did ye succeed, chief? I s’pose the party reached the island in -safety long ’fore mornin’?” - -“Yes—dey all dere.” - -“Did ye go over to the island?” - -Wapawah nods his head. - -“Did, eh? Found ’em all safe, too? How many be they?” - -Wapawah holds up both hands with the fingers extended, signifying ten. -Then, by doubling down all but the index finger on the left hand, he -reduces the number to six. - -“Sixteen in all,” says the ranger, who understands the Indian’s signs -perfectly, “sixteen in all. Thar’s jest one more’n I thort they wur. -Who’s the sixteenth pusson?” - -“He the Yankee,” replies the Indian, the faintest shadow of a smile -flitting across his dusky visage. - -“The Yankee!” repeats the white man, in some surprise. “He! he! ho! are -_he_ with ’em?” - -“Yes.” - -“Wal, that’s more’n I s’pected he’d do. Don’t like to see the chap git so -bold. Did ye tell ’em we wur goin’ to j’ine ’em?” - -“Yes; told we stay with ’em all day.” - -“Guess we’d better about it, then. D’ye see this roasted bird, chief? Big -’nough to fill us both, ain’t it? Help yerself, an’ let us be off ’thout -any unneedcessary waste o’ time.” - -“Wait,” interrupts the Indian. “Got more to tell—let Kidd listen.” - -“Got more to tell!” The scout drops the duck again. “Out with it, then. -What more have ye see’d?” - -“Injuns,” is the calm reply. “Me see band of Injuns—on war-path—all hab -guns—some hab pale-faces’ scalp.” - -“Whar did ye see ’em?” - -The warrior points up the river. - -“Now, mold me into buckshot, ef this ain’t gittin’ interestin’. D’ye know -what tribe the Injuns belong to?” - -“Wyandott.” - -“Some o’ yer own fellers, be they? What are they ’way down hyur fur? -Reckon, though, they’ve come down on one o’ thar maraudin’ tramps, durn -thar ugly picters.” - -“De chief, he no Wyandott,” continues the Indian; “he not red-man, ’tall. -He long-knife.” - -“Led by a white man, be they?” - -“Yes—Simon Girty!” - -“Mold me into buckshot!” Kirby Kidd rises to his feet with this -ejaculation. “Yer don’t mean ter tell me Simon Girty are the leader o’ -the war-party ye’re talkin’ ’bout?” - -“Dat what Wapawah say—Wapawah know Simon Girty well—see him much time at -Sandusky.” - -Kirby Kidd made no reply to this, but, relapsing into a thoughtful mood, -leans on his rifle and gazes fixedly into the fire. At length he arouses -himself from his reverie, and says: - -“Chief, yer knows as well as I that them folks on the island are in a -powerful sight o’ danger, ef that renegade, Girty, are circ’latin’ in -these parts on the war-path.” - -“Wapawah knows,” affirms the Indian. - -“Wal, then, the sooner we add our two selves to the party the better -it’ll be for them. How many reds did yer see, countin’ Girty?” - -The Indian explains with his fingers, signifying thirty-two. - -“The number o’ our enemies is less’n I s’posed,” the ranger resumes, “but -we’ll do no harm by j’inein’ of ’em, so’t we kin help ’em git ready to -meet an attack. Reckon the reds know they’re thar?” - -“No, t’ink not. Hear dem talk—dey say nothing ’bout long-knives—t’ink dey -don’t know where dey be.” - -“Then ye may bet yer moccasins ’ut they won’t be long findin’ out. -They’ll cross the river in the vicinity o’ the island, won’t they?” - -“No; dey ’bove de island—heap ’bove it—half mile, guess.” - -“So fur? Maybe they will miss it, then. If they does, so much better fur -our friends, but, in any case, I can’t help thinkin’ we ort to be among -’em. Come, chief; let’s eat quick an’ be off.” - -When the two scouts have done justice to the roast duck, they at once -enter their bark canoe, which they always keep concealed at this place, -and begin to guide it toward the island, that lies about half a mile -distant up the river. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -GAME AND GAME. - - -Remembering his guilt and natural cowardice, we may well suppose that -Jim McCabe was not a little frightened when he felt a hand laid rather -heavily upon his shoulder. But, when he sprung round to face his fancied -challenger, and saw only the face of Nick Robbins, which had become -entirely expressionless within the last few seconds, he drew a deep -breath of relief, and felt his fears fading. - -“What do you mean, sir, by striking me in this unwarrantable manner?” he -demanded, angrily. - -“Strikin’ ye!” drawled Robbins, taking a step backward and regarding the -man with a show of astonishment in his actions, if not in his face. “Durn -it, man, I didn’t strike ye, as I knows of. I only laid my paw on yer -shoulder to ’tract yer ’tention.” - -“Attract my attention, indeed!” snarled McCabe. “You chose a very mild -way to do it. You will oblige me, sir, by acting a little less familiarly -toward me in future.” - -“Will I, though?” - -“Silence, fool! I meant exactly what I said, and I further do when I tell -you that another impudent word will be uttered at your peril. I am in no -enviable mood, just now, and am not to be trifled with. Go your way, and -leave me to go mine.” - -For a full minute the gaze of the hunter never left the eyes of the -speaker, after the latter had finished his exclamations. But at the end -of that time a smile, that might have been of contempt, curled his lip, -and he broke the silence: - -“See hyur, stranger,” he said, in a low, impressive voice, “does yer know -who an’ what I am?” - -“I only know that you are called Nick Robbins,” replied McCabe, somewhat -taken aback by the hunter’s words and manner. - -“Wal, it’s lucky fur ye ’ut ye don’t know me better ’n that, cause ef ye -did, an’ should speak to me in that style, I’d knock yer from hyur to -Christmas, ye blamed blow-fly! What d’ye take me fur, anyhow? Let me tell -yer ’tain’t goin’ to pay yer to make an enemy o’ me. Why, younker, don’t -ye know ’ut I can upset that little scheme o’ your’n in a jiffy—” - -“What scheme?” gasped McCabe, in considerable alarm. - -“What scheme! Ha! ha! ha! Yer knows well enough what scheme, ye blasted -scape-gallows! Hain’t yer jest been talkin’ to Simon Girty ’bout a gang -o’ white people as are campin’ on that island down yander? and didn’t ye -tell him ye wanted every mother’s son of ’em slaughtered, ’ceptin’ one -purty female, an’ she wur to be captur’d fur yer wife?” - -“Good God! how did you learn this?” - -“How d’ye s’pose?” asked the hunter, with a leer. - -“It’s all a base lie!” vociferated the ruffian. “You don’t know what you -are talking about!” - -“Easy, my friend,” said the hunter, coolly. “I ain’t used to bein’ called -a liar by anybody, an’ I can’t stand it. I’m a right docile chap long -as nobody crosses my path, but when once’t I git my dander riz, I can’t -git it down ag’in till I’ve bent some pusson’s ear. Now, ye won’t make -anything by denyin’ this ’ut I’ve ’cused ye of, for this reason: I heerd -every word o’ yer conversation with Simon Girty. Jest reflect a minute, -an’ ye’ll agree that I’d make a better friend than enemy, knowin’ what -I do, so ye’ll do well to curb that tongue o’ your’n ’fore ye ruffle my -feathers.” - -“There is something behind your words I don’t understand,” said McCabe, -after searching in vain for the “something” in the never changing -countenance of the hunter. - -“Is, hey? Ef that’s the case I’ll jest give yer understandin’ a lift. As -I said afore, I heerd every word that passed ’twixt you an’ Girty, an’ -in course I must ’a’ been clus’ by to hear. You say ye don’t know me, -’ceptin’ my name are Robbins?” - -“I said so.” - -“Do anybody else suspicion more?” - -“I have never heard of any such suspicion.” - -“Good. Now, younker, look at me clus’. Do I look as though I mought be -disguised?” - -“_Disguised!_” - -“Yas.” - -“Why, sir, it never occurred to me that you were.” - -“Jest what I thort. I’ve pulled the wool over more’n one feller’s eyes. -An’ onkimmon ’cute chap, who b’ars the handle o’ Kirby Kidd, thinks I’m -his truest friend, an’ has the utmost confidence both in my faithfulness -an’ my skill as an Injun-fighter. Fur all that, I _am_ disguised, whether -I look like it or no.” - -Jim McCabe was so astonished that he could not reply, and, observing -this, the hunter continued: - -“Maybe ye’d like to know what I am, since I ain’t what I seem? I’ll tell -yer. Besides bein’ Nick Robbins, I am the companion, the confed’rate, the -right bower o’ _Simon Girty_!” - -He paused a moment to note the effect of these words upon his hearer, and -then went on: - -“I see ye’re kinder amazed to hear this, but I’ll prove it to yer in the -fraction of a second. I find it handy to pertend friendship to’arst the -whites, though in reality I’m leagued with the Injuns, an’ am workin’ fur -’em the hull time. This mornin’ I wur over thar in the ravine with Girty -and the red-skins, when we see’d ye comin’ that way. Girty said how’t -ye’s a friend o’ his’n, but I recognized ye as a man from the settlement -whar I’ve been lodgin’ lately, an’ bein’ sorter afeard ye’d expose me -to the whites ef ye sot yer peepers on me, I perlitely hid my carcass -behind a big stun’. I heerd all ye said, an’ found out ye wur ’bout as -big a rascal as myself. Ha! ha! ha! When ye went away I come out from -the stun’, an’ told Simon I wur goin’ to foller ye, an’ have a chat with -ye ’bout this little affair. He told me I’d better not, that ye mought -take it into yer head to expose me to the whites, but I argued that I -had ye too much in my power to admit o’ yer doin’ sech a thing. So I -follered ye, and hyur I am. D’ye know what I’m hyur fur? I’ll tell ye. Ye -calc’late on j’inin’ the whites as thar friend, an’ inducin’ ’em by some -trick to remain an hour or so arter dark. Now, I knows they ain’t got -a very high opinion o’ you, an’ it’s all but likely they’d ketch ye in -yer own trap. On t’other hand, ef _I_ should go to the island I’d stand -a better chance o’ success. They all know me, an’ have faith in every -thing I say, an’ even Mr. Moreland hisself labors under the belief ut he -an’ I are fast friends.” - -Jim McCabe fell to thinking at this, and the result of his thinking was a -firm belief in all the hunter had said. - -“I beg your pardon,” he said, grasping Robbins’ hand, “for the rude -manner in which I spoke to you a moment since. I regret that I was so -hasty, and assure you I should not have acted so, had I even suspected -that you had followed me for my own good.” - -“Wal, we won’t speak o’ that now,” said Robbins, good-humoredly. “Ef I -hadn’t understood why ye acted that a-way, I should ’a’ knocked ye cl’ar -up through the crown o’ yer hat; but I understood parfectly how it wur. -Let it pass; it ’mounts to nothin’. Reckon ye’re willin’ to have me take -this fur a sign o’ friendship?” - -“Certainly, sir; certainly! I am most happy to find a man, of my own -color, who partakes of my sentiments with regard to the great injustice -offered to the race who first held possession of this land. I should -never have suspected that you were such, however, had you not told me. -Your disguise is complete, and you are supposed to be a harmless old -rover, when in truth you are the deadly enemy of the very ones who have -so much faith in your harmlessness.” - -“That ’are’s ’bout the long an’ short of it, younker. The Injuns call me -a sly old fox, an’ I s’pose the name are a good ’un.” - -“You could have no better,” said McCabe, who had already been thrown into -a very good humor by this man. - -“Wal,” said the hunter, quietly, “I hope we understand each other, -anyhow. Shill I perform the part o’ throwin’ the whites off thar guard, -or would ye ruther do it yerself?” - -He put this question in a careless sort of a way, and, as he spoke, -glanced lazily down the river at the island, which lay at least half a -mile below the spot where they stood. - -“To be sure I am willing that you should perform the duty imposed upon -me,” answered McCabe, who was only too glad to have the responsibility -taken from his own shoulders. “I believe you are more capable of doing it -than I, since you better understand the art of deceiving. You give ample -proof of that every day.” - -“Ef I’m to do that part o’ the job,” said the hunter, “I jest stays hyur -with you till arter noon, an’ then I takes the trip to the island an’ -back.” - -“Very well. I shall be glad to have you remain here with me, as I detest -solitude. But, my friend, since you belong to that band of Indians, -perhaps you know where to find their canoes? Girty said they were -concealed somewhere in this vicinity—can you tell me where?” - -“Oh, sartinly,” was the prompt reply. “I know egzactly whar the boats are -hid. They’re skeercely a dozen feet from hyur.” - -As he spoke he took two or three long strides down the sloping bank, to a -little cove that extended a few yards inland. Here he stooped and parted -the bushes, revealing to the eyes of Jim McCabe five Indian canoes, with -their paddles lying in them. Truth is, while conversing with McCabe, Nick -Robbins had seen the prow of one of these protruding from the bushes, and -the discovery, unimportant in itself, went to prove more clearly to his -new acquaintance that he really was connected with the Indians. - -“Thar they be,” he said; “all safe an’ ready for use.” - -“So I see. Of course you will take one of them on your mission to the -island?” - -“In course! I’ll have to or swim.” - -The two men now seated themselves beneath the wide-spreading branches of -a tree, at a point where they had a good view of the island, there to -await the time for action. To hear their conversation, one would judge -their acquaintance was rapidly ripening into friendship, as they went so -far as to almost make confidants of each other, and chatted as familiarly -as if they had been on intimate terms for a number of years. In fact, -Jim McCabe believed he had found a trustworthy friend in the old hunter, -and reposed more and more confidence in him every moment, and, to all -appearance, Nick Robbins was similarly worked upon. - -The hours dragged slowly by, and at last the sun passed the zenith, -ushering in a sultry afternoon. - -Nick Robbins waited no longer, but stepped into one of the Indian canoes -and sent it skimming down the river toward the island. McCabe watched him -with eager eyes as he paddled away, and felt a thrill of exultation as -he thought how nicely things were working in his favor! Surely, fortune -was smiling upon him. - -The hunter was absent a full hour. The wretch on shore had lost his -patience, and was beginning to entertain a suspicion that all was not -right, when he saw Robbins put out from the head of the island and come -rowing slowly back. - -“Well?” he asked, as soon as the boat touched the shore. “How did you -succeed?” - -“Succeed?” exclaimed Robbins, in a tone of joyful triumph, as he stepped -out of the light craft and shoved it under the bushes with the rest. -“Succeed, did yer say? By thunder! the game’s _our’n_! We’ve got ’em in -our clutches already, an’ we’ve only to wait till the comin’ o’ night -to pick thar feathers. We couldn’t hope fur better success. The durned -cusses are goin’ to stay thar ’bout two hours arter dark, an’ I warrant -they won’t be on thar guard, ’cause I’ve made ’em b’lieve thar ain’t no -Injuns ’thin fifty mile of ’em. Kirby Kidd an’ Wapawah wur both thar, an’ -they was sucked in as easy as t’others. Yes, kumrid, they’re our game, -sure ’s shootin’!” - -“Good!” cried McCabe, slapping his thigh. “You’re a trump, my friend, and -if, through your exertions, I come in possession of the proud beauty, -Isabel Moreland, I shall ever feel indebted to you. But I will go at once -and tell Girty how well we have succeeded so far. You remember he told me -to report? I presume you will remain here, and keep watch until I return?” - -But Nick Robbins made no reply to this. He had become suddenly very -silent and very grave, and he even seemed to be struck with alarm! - -McCabe, however, failed to observe this, and flinging his rifle across -his shoulder he started away, whistling gleefully. - -“Stop!” called out the hunter, hesitatingly. “Had—hadn’t I better go, an’ -let you stay hyur?” - -“No,” replied McCabe, cheerfully. “I wish to speak to Girty about -something else, and may as well go myself.” - -And so saying, he resumed his whistling and walked on. - -“By heaven!” exclaimed the hunter, when he was left alone, and he dropped -the butt of his gun upon the ground in a half despairing sort of a way. -“Can it be that I am going to fail, after all? He has gone to report to -Simon Girty what we have done, and of course my name will be mentioned, -and I will be exposed. What shall I do? There is no room to hope that he -will not speak to Girty of me. Why did I not think of this before? Alas! -I fear my project is nipped in the bud, and, if so, my life is in danger. -The villain may come back at the head of a dozen Indians, to make mince -meat of me, for my deception, and yet I must wait for him at all hazards.” - -The hunter was evidently sorely troubled. He threw himself upon the -ground to await the return of McCabe, and was so nervous and restless he -could not lie still. He trembled in a state of feverish impatience, and -every minute seemed an hour to him. - -At last McCabe came trudging back. He was entirely alone, and whistling -as gleefully as when he had gone away. Nick Robbins rose to meet him -eagerly, feeling the first spark of hope he had felt since the fellow’s -departure. He gazed keenly at the whistling profligate as he came up, but -saw nothing that told him his artifice had been discovered. - -“Well, what news?” he asked, with as much calmness as was just then at -his command. - -“News?” said McCabe, in some surprise, “news? Why, really, sir, what sort -of news have you been expecting?” - -“I mean—what did Girty have to say?” - -“Oh, Girty was not there,” answered the fellow, stretching himself on -the grass. “He and one of his braves had started in chase of a deer just -before I reached the ravine, and so I was obliged to leave my report to -be delivered by the Indians.” - -A fierce thrill of delight pervaded the whole being of Robbins at this -intelligence, and he was compelled to turn his head away to conceal his -joyful emotion! - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE MEETING IN THE WOOD. - - -The afternoon waned, and the sun went down behind the gold and crimson -clouds that blended their brilliant hues in the western sky. - -Night came on apace, and still the two men remained on the spot where -the canoes of the Indians were concealed. Jim McCabe, however, began to -grow restless, and it was plain that he wished to say something to his -companion, which fear of the result prevented him from doing. He coughed -and “ahem’d,” ran his trembling fingers through his hair, cast frequent -glances through the darkening woods, in the direction of the ravine, and -then amused himself by thrusting his hands into his pockets and pacing -up and down with quick, nervous tread. Though fully understanding these -demonstrations of uneasiness, and scarcely able to repress a smile in -consequence thereof, yet Nick Robbins seemed to be entirely ignorant -of the change that had taken place in his would-be friend. At last the -troubled man appeared to have made up his mind. He stepped right in front -of the hunter, and blurted out: - -“I say, Robbins, shall we stay here until the Indians come, and join them -in their attack on the whites?” - -“Why not?” coolly asked the hunter. “Wa’n’t that the agreement ’twixt you -an’ Girty? Didn’t yer say as ye’d be hyur when they come to embark, ready -to take part in the fightin’?” - -“Not exactly. I told him I should be here if I was nowhere else, but, to -be frank, it was my intention to be somewhere else.” - -“What! ye ain’t afeard, be yer?” - -“Oh, no! not in the least,” was the quick rejoinder. “It isn’t fear that -urges me to keep out of the fight, but stronger and better reasons. You -see, I’m deeply, madly in love, and can not run the risk of losing the -bewitching beauty I have taken so much pains to secure. Suppose I should -go into the fight and get killed; where would be the reward for my labor? -and what would become of the girl? Besides all this, if the Indians -should, by any chance, be defeated, and I captured, I should be strung up -to the nearest tree for the part I had taken in the conflict. Don’t you -see?” - -Nick Robbins seemed to meditate. After a while he asked: - -“Wal, what d’ye perpose to do?” - -“Before answering that question,” said McCabe, “I should like to know -whether you are going to take part in the massacre or not?” - -“It have been my intention to do so all along, but ef _you_ don’t _I_ -don’t, that’s sartin.” - -“Very good. I will suggest, then, that we move down the bank of the river -about half a mile, or whatever the distance may be, and take our stand -just opposite the island.” - -“What then?” - -“Just this: we can lie there in concealment and watch, or, rather, listen -to, the battle on the water, and when it is all over, we can join our -white friend and his dusky crew, and make them believe it was simply -impossible for us to be present at the massacre.” - -“Why d’ye want to go so fur down the river as to be opposite the island?” - -“Only that we may be near the scene of the conflict, where we shall be -able to note its progress and termination.” - -Nick Robbins knit his brows, and seemed to meditate again. Then, with a -slight show of perplexity, he said: - -“Tell yer what, kumrid, my brain are kinder muddled this evenin’, an’ -I kin skeercely decide how to act. Yer perpose to take no part in the -tussle, an’ I make no doubt yer reasons fur slidin’ out of it are good, -but, on second thort, I don’t know whether I ort to shirk my duty or not. -With you I reckon it’s all right, but what cause have I fur not ’tendin’ -to my duty?” - -“Pooh! it isn’t going to hurt you to tell a lie, if you find it necessary -to offer an excuse for your absence.” - -“Nevertheleast, I ain’t in the habit o’ doin’ that. I don’t want to make -’em think I’m a coward, ’cause thar ain’t nothin’ ’ut I’m afeard of. -Tell ye what I’ll do. You kin go on down the river, an’ leave me hyur -to think awhile. Ef I decides to stay with yer, I’ll foller er in a few -minutes, but ef I don’t, I’ll wait hyur fur the Injuns, an’ go with them. -How will that suit yer?” - -“That suits me very well,” replied McCabe. “But I sincerely hope you will -decide to follow me.” - -The delighted villain, glad to get away from the place where the savages -were to embark on their errand of death, turned on his heel and quickly -took his departure, making the river-bank his guide as he hurried away to -the point designated. - -Nick Robbins watched his receding form until it was lost to view in the -purple twilight, and then, finding himself once more alone, he sat down -on a log and buried his face in his hands to think. - -His sole object in lingering behind was to be alone for a while with his -thoughts. Of course he had no intention of joining the savages in their -attack on his friends, though he had made such a pretense to the poor -dupe McCabe. Having carried out his plan successfully so far, he wished -to bring the latter part of it to perfect maturity before proceeding -further, in order to prevent such a thing as running into an unlooked-for -difficulty, which he had done once already. To do this he desired a few -minutes of solitude, that he might think it all over undisturbed, and it -was for this reason alone that he sent McCabe on ahead. - -For a long time he sat there on the log, lost in study, and when at last -he rose to his feet, the mellow twilight had deepened into the blacker -shades. - -Surprised to find that he had tarried there so long, the hunter snatched -up his gun and hastened away in the direction McCabe had taken. He was -pleased with the latter’s proposition to keep out of the fight, as it -prevented the suspicion that might have been excited by such a one being -offered by himself. They could station themselves on the shore directly -opposite the island, and, with their ears, note the commencement, end and -result of the contemplated contest. Thus he reflected as he walked along -the river-bank through the gathering darkness of night, and a strange -smile twitched the beard that covered his mouth, as he muttered: - -“Result, indeed! Ha! ha! ha! It will be a far different result from that -which _he_ expects, for Kirby Kidd and Wapawah would not have been caught -napping even if I had failed to put them on their guard. Kidd declared -that, if the rest of the party would follow strictly the directions of -himself and Wapawah, they could defeat the assailants without the loss of -a man, and I believe he spoke the truth.” - -Nick Robbins now ended his soliloquy, and brought his mind down to the -present. He walked on some distance further, with long, rapid strides, -and at length became aware that he had reached the point he was aiming -for. Off to his right he could see the shadowy outlines of the island. -He came to a dead halt. Where was Jim McCabe? He looked around him, but -saw only the frowning tree-trunks on one side, and the glistening water -on the other. It was quite dark now, and the only luminaries visible were -the myriads of twinkling stars that bespangled the blue canopy above. He -was about to move on, when his footsteps were arrested by a loud, angry -voice, exclaiming: - -“So you have been following me, have you?—you accursed brat! And you now -hint that you will proclaim me a murderer to the world rather than see me -accomplish my purpose.” - -The speaker was undoubtedly Jim McCabe! - -“Faith, Jamie, I haven’t been follerin’ iv yeez, at all, at all,” said -another voice, in rich Irish brogue. With astonishment the hunter -recognized this one as that of the boy, Mike Terry! He stood perfectly -quiet, and listened. - -“What, rascal! Will you say you have not been following me? Tell me, -then, how came you here?” - -“Begorra, how should I know ye were in this part iv the counthry? An’ av -I did know why should I be afther follerin’ iv yeez? It’s goin’ crazy ye -are, to be sure, an’ Mike Terry won’t have any thing more to do wid the -likes iv yeez. Tell ye why I’m here? Av course I will. I’m this fur on me -way to that fort—phat ye call it?—where the Moreland family is movin’ to.” - -“And why are you going there?” - -“I’m goin’ there to live, yer honor.” - -“To live! Why don’t you stay where you have so long been living?” - -“Fur this raison. Whiniver I walk out I can’t help seein’ the place where -Doctor Trafford’s house stood, an’ it makes me fale as if I was his -murderer, sure. Nayther can I go outside iv the stockade unliss something -l’ades me straight to the grave av Masther Russell. I’m goin’ away now, -so I’ll niver be throubled be these sights ag’in. Musha! musha! the -payple used to say Mike Terry was a first-class b’y, but he’s a rascal -an’ a spalpeen now, an’ yerself it was that made me that, an’ it’s me own -cousin ye are, too.” - -“Fool! will you cease your whining? Suppose you have done a rascally -act by telling a lie in my defense; I have paid you well for it, and am -willing to pay you more. You won’t have my money? Well, that is your -fault, not mine. The fact that I killed Doctor Trafford, and caused the -death of his nephew, need not trouble you, as the only thing you did -was to swear that Russell was the murderer. Now that I have confided in -you so far as to tell you that I am striving to get Isabel Moreland in -my power, you say something to the effect that you will go over to the -encampment of the whites, and disclose my whole secret.” - -“Divil a bit did I say that, Jamie. I only s’id the poor craythers ought -to be warned iv their danger, an’ I’ll say it ag’in av I want to. It -ain’t me as’ll warn ’em, though, fur I have no boat, at all, an’ divil -a sthroke can I swim. L’ave ’em alone. They’re not doin’ any harrum to -anybody.” - -“Bah! you talk nonsense, Mike. I shall not leave them alone, so long as -my suit is rejected by the fair daughter of Mr. Moreland. Look you, boy! -it is just possible that those red-skins will be defeated to-night, and -if they should be, I will of course, go back home. In that case, I will -live in constant fear that you will betray me. To make sure that you will -not do this, I want you now to take a solemn oath that you will never -breathe a word of my secret to mortal ears!” - -“Oh, don’t ax me to do that?” - -“Ask, indeed! I _command_ you to do it! Down on your knees, and swear -that you will forever hold your tongue on this subject.” - -“No, no, no! I can’t swear that, at all, at all. Maybe I’ll have to tell -some time, to save me own life.” - -“Swear!” - -“No—oh, no!” - -“Idiot! do you refuse?” - -“Yis, Jamie, I’ll have to refuse.” - -“Then, by the gods, you shall _die_! Do you hear? _you shall die!_ -Look at this knife! It shall cut your infernal heart out, unless you -immediately swear secrecy—” - -“Oh, don’t—don’t! In the name iv the Howly Vargin, ye wouldn’t be afther -murtherin’ iv me? Don’t, dear cousin; pl’ase don’t!” - -“Then you will swear?” - -“Never! Cut me heart out, av ye will, but don’t ax me to take sich an -oath as that. Kill me, cousin, an’ do it quick! I’m a wicked b’y an’ -desarve to be kilt, but I shall niver listen to yer blarney ag’in, though -it should save me life a hundred times!” - -Thus far, Nick Robbins had listened to the conversation without moving -from his tracks, but now, fearing the monster would carry out his dire -threat, he thought the time for action had come. Beginning to hum a -popular air, and dropping his gun to a trail, he walked boldly forward -through the thick underbrush, creating as much noise as possible in the -act. A few steps took him to a small opening in the woods, where Jim -McCabe and the Irish boy, Mike Terry, were standing. - -“Hello! what have we hyur?” exclaimed the hunter, stopping short and -staring, with well-feigned surprise, at the lad. - -McCabe was evidently somewhat flurried by the appearance of Robbins, but -he managed to answer: - -“Why, upon my word, you startled me, old fellow. Where did you come from -so suddenly? You have been so long a while in making up your mind to -follow me, that I had almost despaired of seeing you again very soon. -That boy? Oh, he’s my cousin, Mike Terry. Come Mike; look up. Don’t you -believe, I found him lying here asleep.” - -“Did, hey? What’s he hyur fur?” - -“He’s been searching for me, I presume. He is always wandering about and -getting lost.” - -“’Pears to me this is a bad place fur a chap o’ his heft to be strollin’ -’round alone,” said the hunter, gazing as closely and curiously at the -boy as if he had never seen him before. - -“My sentiments, precisely,” laughed McCabe, “and for that reason I think -we had better keep him under our protection, now he’s here.” - -“Ye’ll do no sich a thing,” spoke up Mike, firmly. “It isn’t the likes -iv yeez that’ll kape me here two minutes longer, unless ye ties me feet. -I won’t stay here so close to the poor craythers that’s goin’ to be kilt -intirely be the lots iv red niggers in yer employ.” - -The lad was sidling away as he spoke, and looked as if he were about to -take to his heels. Observing this, Nick Robbins stepped quickly forward -and seized him by the arm. - -“Hold on younker,” he said. “It’s the opinion o’ this coon ’ut ye’ll be a -deal safer by stayin’ with us.” - -Then, stooping down, he whispered in the lad’s ear: - -“Keep mum. I am not the friend of that man, nor the enemy of those on the -island! Stay with me and you are safe!” - -The young Hibernian shot a glance of mingled amazement and gratitude at -the speaker, but said nothing in reply. The hunter turned carelessly -away, and began to converse with McCabe, while Mike Terry, watching them -with a strange expression in his blue eyes, quietly seated himself on a -stone, as if he had never had a thought of running away from the two men! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE ISLAND FIGHT. - - -“Isn’t it time for them to make the attack?” said Jim McCabe, who was all -impatience now that the time was drawing near. - -“No,” replied Robbins; “it hain’t been dark more’n an hour.” - -“What of that? You know Simon Girty is not the man to be tardy on -occasions like this.” - -“Know that,” replied Robbins, “but neither is he the man to hurry when -success depends on deliberation.” - -“Very true,” drawled the profligate, musingly, “and yet my only fear is -that they will find the island deserted.” - -“Ef that’s yer only fear ye may jest dispense with it to onc’t, ’cause -the birds ain’t thunk o’ flyin’ yit,” said Robbins, confidently, and then -with a smile that the darkness concealed, he added to himself: “Ah, my -fine fellow, if you knew all you would have yet another fear, that would -be a source of more trouble than this.” - -But, not knowing all, McCabe had no other fear, and even the one that -had taken possession of him was partially dispelled by the words of his -companion. He had learned to trust the hunter so completely that nothing -short of ocular proof could have convinced him of his deceptiveness. - -The two men stood on the bank of the river, watching and waiting, while -Mike Terry still sat on the same stone near by, watching and waiting too. -Jim McCabe was impatient and restless. - -“Girty is slow,” he exclaimed. “I wish he would hurry. I wonder if he -thinks he has the whole night in which to do this job?” - -He paused for a reply, but, receiving none, continued: - -“I wish the thing was over, and I had my future wife in my arms. Confound -the luck! I believe the man has drawn his men off without even attempting -the massacre. If I but had the Indians under my command for a short time, -I’d spread desolation over the face of the waters. I wonder what time it -is?” - -Still the hunter did not reply, but stood like a statue, gazing out on -the river, his eyes gleaming like coals of fire. - -“Robbins, what time is it?” cried McCabe in a higher key, determined to -make him answer. - -“How do I know?” was the gruff response. “D’ye s’pose I’ve got a -time-piece? an’ ef I had one, d’ye s’pose I could see it? I advise ye to -keep yer meat-trap shet ef yer don’t want to git yerself in trouble. Yer -talks as if thar’s nobody ’thin a mile of us.” - -This rebuff had the desired effect. The restless ruffian became quiet -without another word, and for awhile the profoundest silence reigned over -the trio. - -Presently Nick Robbins seized his companion’s arm, and whispered: - -“Hist! Didn’t ye hear that?” - -“What?” asked McCabe, excitedly. - -“Why, a plash in the water out yander,” said Robbins, pointing. “_I_ -heerd it, sure’s shootin’.” - -“So did I,” said Mike Terry, who had sprung to his feet at the sound. - -“An’ it wur caused by nothin’ else but a keerless stroke of a paddle,” -continued Robbins, emphatically. “The Injuns are on the river, an’ on -thar way to the island, that’s sartin.” - -“Do you think so?” asked McCabe, hurriedly. - -“Don’t think nothin’ ’bout it—I _know_ it.” - -“Good! Then the crisis will come immediately. Ugh! won’t it be a terrible -slaughter? The whites little dream that death is so near to them, and -momentarily drawing nearer.” - -“An’ the Injuns little dream what is in store for _them_,” thought the -hunter, but the thought was not expressed. He added aloud: “Yas, thar’s -goin’ to be hullsale destruction in less’n a minute, an’ the victims have -no idea what’s goin’ to happen.” - -“Be the saints! I’m wishin’ there wasn’t goin’ to be any bloodshed, at -all,” said the Irish boy, clasping his hands. - -“Robbins,” whispered McCabe, close to the ranger’s ear, and his voice -was husky and unsteady, “Robbins, they have surely had time to reach the -island, if it was them you heard. Why don’t they begin the slaughter? Do -you think—_Good Lord!_” - -While he was speaking he had been looking out toward the island, -straining eyes and ears to catch some sight or sound. The cause of the -exclamation with which he interrupted himself, was a bright sheet of -fire that suddenly flashed out through the darkness, followed quickly -by the simultaneous reports of several rifles! Then there rose shriek -upon shriek of mortal agony—groans deep and fearful—wild, piercing -death-yells—mingled with the appalling war-cry of the assailants; all -sounding hideous in the extreme, in the silent hours of the night! But, -amid these noises, not a single white man’s voice could be heard. - -“What does it mean?” gasped McCabe, clutching the hunter’s shoulder. -“Surely, surely, they are not being defeated by the whites, and yet it -sounds more like a defeat than a victory!” - -“Keep cool,” admonished the backwoodsman, shaking off the grasp of the -excited man; “jest keep cool, an’ I’ll tell yer what _I_ thinks. The -Injuns _are_ gittin’ licked, sure’s shootin’, though it’s the qu’arest -thing I ever heern tell on. That first volley was from the guns o’ the -pale-faces, an’ it’s plain to me ’ut the reds are gittin’ the wust o’ -thar little game. It’s sing’lar, I allow, but the whites have been put on -thar guard somehow or other, ’cause—” - -The sentence was destined to remain unfinished, for at that moment -another fiery jet flamed up in the impending gloom, followed by another -crash of fire-arms, as a second volley was poured into the assailants -from those on the island. It must have been as destructive as the first, -for there were more shrieks, and groans, and yells, and this time there -was a plunging and floundering in the water, as if one or more canoes had -been overturned. - -The trio on the shore stood and listened in silence. Nick Robbins -pretended to be as much astonished as his companion, though in reality -he was secretly exulting over the success of his counterplot. The rage, -fear, surprise and disappointment that took possession of Jim McCabe, -were so overwhelming in their ebullition that he could not speak, and, -like one struck dumb, he stood and stared, his labored respiration the -only sound he made. That the Indians were being repulsed with heavy loss -there was not the least room for doubt, and that this unexpected result -was caused by previous preparations on the part of the whites to meet the -attack, was equally plain to the ruffian’s mind. He did not blame Robbins -with this—he could not believe him capable of such treachery! He realized -how fully Robbins had established himself in his favor and confidence, -and felt as though he would be willing to stake his life that the man -was truly his friend, and the friend of the Indians. And yet his scheme -was certainly a failure. Isabel Moreland, whom he had thought almost in -his power, was not to be his after all. He ground his teeth, and his -eyes gleamed like those of a wild beast, but he could not find words to -express his feelings, so he was silent. - -The carnage on the river was kept up for a few short moments. Shots were -fired at irregular intervals by both sides, our trio noting every flash -and crack of the guns, and listening keenly for the result. From the -uncertain foundation of what they heard—or, rather, did _not_ hear—they -deduced the opinion that none of the whites were hurt, while they knew -that among the savages there was a fearful destruction of life. The -whoops, and screams, and groans were continued, but they gradually grew -weaker and weaker, until at last not a sound could be heard save the -steady gurgle and swash of the mighty Ohio, as it swept onward in its -unceasing flow toward the great “Father of Waters.” The fight was at an -end, and silence once more brooded over the river. - -No sooner had the sounds of the brief conflict ceased, than Nick Robbins -made a singular movement. Suddenly throwing out both of his arms, he -seized Jim McCabe and Mike Terry by their clothing, and began to drag -them back by main force from the water’s edge! A short distance from the -bank he stopped, and exclaimed: - -“Down on yer faces—quick!” - -“Wha—wha—what’s the matter?” stammered McCabe, as he felt himself going -down to the ground without the least exertion on his part. - -“’Sh!” cautioned the hunter. “Don’t speak a word—don’t move! Thar’s a -boat comin’ this way, an’ it’s almost hyur! Listen! Don’t ye hear it?” - -Yes, McCabe and the Irish boy both heard it now, and very distinctly, -too. It was the measured dip of a paddle in the water, and it was -apparently drawing nigh with great rapidity. Indeed, the canoe—for a -canoe it certainly was—had approached almost within sight before even -Nick Robbins had discovered its proximity! - -In a moment they heard the boat strike the shore. Then they fairly held -their breath as they waited for the occupants to land. Soon two dark -forms sprung upon the bank—only two, and they wore the plumes and scanty -apparel of Indians! - -One of them, however, as he stood revealed in the dim starlight, was -instantly known to be a white man. More—he was recognized as that -fiendish outlaw, Simon Girty! - -“Hell and furies!” growled the renegade, stamping his foot, “this has -been a pretty night’s work. I don’t believe more than half of my braves -effected their escape. In fact, I’m sure they didn’t. Curse that man, -McCabe! If I had him here I’d wring his neck, for I believe he has played -me false!” - -This was all that was heard. The next moment Simon Girty and the Indian -had plunged into the woods, and were gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -CAGED! - - -“That wur a lucky escape fur you, old hoss,” said Nick Robbins, as the -three lurkers came out of their concealment. “Simon Girty have got it -into his head ’ut ye’re false, an’ ef he’d ketched ye hyur it ’ud went -kinder hard with ye, I take it.” - -“Curse it!” hissed McCabe; “every thing is going wrong, just at the time -that I thought success certain!” - -“Wal, I wouldn’t take it to heart in that style,” laughed Robbins, -patting him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, an’ be yerself ag’in. It’s true -the red-skins have been nicely licked by the pale-faces, an’ the hull -gang scattered to the four winds, but it don’t foller ’ut the jig’s up.” - -“Don’t it?” snarled McCabe. “I should like to know what remains to be -done, but to go home? I presume you will follow Girty now, and leave me -to pursue my way alone.” - -“Thar’s jest whar ye’re wrong,” said the hunter. “I won’t leave yer till -mornin’, nohow, an’ I tells ye once fur all, the jig ain’t up! True, as I -said afore, the reds have been licked and run away—true, Girty jest now -come to shore, an’ made off like the devil wur arter him—true, we’re left -hyur alone to fight our own battles, but, fur all that, I repeat, _the -jig ain’t up_! - -“Do explain yourself,” said McCabe, seeing something in the hunter’s mind -worth drawing out. - -Taking McCabe aside, out of Mike’s hearing, Nick Robbins proceeded to -unfold his scheme. It was to go over to the island, and, in the capacity -of friends who came to render assistance, to so arrange affairs as to -get Isabel separated from the men and thus secure her by abduction. Nick -“played his hand” so skillfully as to awaken McCabe’s enthusiasm, under -the influence of which he revealed his entire proceedings to secure his -prize, confessing to the firing of Trafford’s house and laughing at his -subsequent conduct and performances. Nick laughed with him, encouraging -his confidence, and then revealed to the astonished scoundrel the fact -that he, Nick, in his capacity of spy, had seen the whole proceeding, but -he added: - -“Now, my boy, we understand one another fully; so let us work the thing -to the end. I’m with yer and the gal, an’ ef we don’t play a mighty poor -hand we’ll win her yet and make the settlements howl, we will. So let’s -be off at once, in Girty’s canoe, which he has left so convenient for us.” - -“As you say: I’m in with you,” and soon the canoe, with the three -adventurers, was out in the stream, heading for the island, openly, so -that the Moreland party might see and recognize them as friends. Landing -on the upper end, they cautiously explored the locality but found no -trace of the party. Then Nick led the way further from the shore, into -the dense undergrowth. A glade was found where the darkness was less -dark, and then Nick, placing his fingers to his mouth, gave vent to a -soft, tremulous whistle, as if he were signaling to some one. - -This surprised Jim McCabe not a little. With a vague suspicion flashing -over his mind, he was about to demand an explanation, but, before he -could utter a word, he staggered backward with a gasp of dismay! There -was a rushing sound in the underbrush near by, mingled with the tramp of -many feet. Then there was a clamor of voices, and the next instant dark -forms began to pour out of the woods on both sides, and gathered around -him. Harsh voices cursed him. Rough, bearded faces were thrust close to -his; words of dire meaning were hissed in his ears; eyes that spoke of -vengeance gleamed upon him; and then a dozen strong hands seized him, and -bore him to the earth! - -There was a brief struggle; and when it was over, Jim McCabe lay helpless -upon the ground, bound hand and foot! - -Lying there on his back, the now thoroughly terrified villain looked up -to see who his captors were. The first ones he noticed were old Kirby -Kidd, and his Indian friend, Wapawah. Then, running his eyes further -round the circle, he observed the twelve stalwart, well-armed men who -had been sent with the emigrants as an escort, and was surprised to see -that their number was not in the least diminished by the attack of the -savages. Among them stood Nick Robbins, looking as cool and unconcerned -as ever, with Mike Terry by his side. Apart from the crowd he saw Mr. -Moreland and his amiable wife, together with their daughter, Isabel, and -near them stood a never-to-be-forgotten individual in a swallow-tailed -blue and high-crowned hat. It was the Yankee clock-vender, Jonathan -Boggs, “all the way from Maine.” - -Jim McCabe groaned aloud, and his heart sunk within him as he read his -fate in the pitiless faces above him. He knew he was now known in his -true character to all of these men, and that he was their _prisoner_! - -Nick Robbins stepped out of the crowd, and, looking calmly down on the -prostrate man, said: - -“Wal, old hoss, how d’ye like yer new position? Them stuns make ruther -a hard bed, don’t they? Kinder guess ye didn’t think ye had sech a -big audience when ye wur tellin’ me that nice little story o’ your’n. -Yander’s the gal ye’ve been tryin’ to captur’. Why don’t ye jump up and -run off with her? Ha! ha! ha! Reckon ye recollects how I come over hyur -this arternoon to throw this party off thar guard, so’t Simon Girty an’ -his reds could extarminate ’em? Wal, I not only put the fellers _on_ thar -guard, but also told ’em to hide tharselves when they should see you an’ -me comin’, so’t they could all hear yer secret as I pumped it out o’ yer.” - -“Yas,” said Kirby Kidd, “an’ mould me into buckshot ef that wa’n’t a fine -trick o’ your’n, whar ye burnt Doc. Trafford in his bed to git rid of his -nephew.” - -“I’ll swan tew man, mister, you look oncomfortable,” exclaimed Jonathan -Boggs, coming forward. “Why, I’m slightly acquainted with you ain’t I?” -he added, after a close look at the man. “Dew tell! Now it’s too bad I -can’t help you, but I’m bound tew own up that you got yourself into the -diffikilty. As Tabitha Simpson used tew say, ‘there’s many a slip ’twixt -the cup and the lip.’” - -There was a general laugh at this, and more than one of the men followed -it up with a rude _jeu d’esprit_ at the prisoner’s expense. - -McCabe foamed with rage, and tugged at the cords that bound him until -they cut into his flesh, swearing furiously the while, and calling down -fearful maledictions on the heads of all present. He cursed himself, too, -for trusting so blindly in the man who had led him into this trap, and -vowed he would haunt Robbins if he were put to death! - -“Men,” said the mild voice of Mr. Moreland, “let us not taunt our -prisoner, but remember the many dark sins with which his soul is -burdened, and pity him.” - -“Yer principles is good, I make no doubt,” replied Kirby Kidd; “but dog -my cats ef I kin feel much pity fur the skunk.” - -But no one thought of disregarding the word of Mr. Moreland, and so Jim -McCabe was left to the companionship of his own thoughts, which, we may -well believe, were not of the pleasantest character imaginable. - -A consultation was now held by the entire party. Kirby Kidd and Nick -Robbins exercised their influence to its utmost, and urged Mr. Moreland -to take the back track and return to his former home, instead of -continuing his journey down the river. Mr. Moreland had been thinking -of this step for some hours, but when he thought of his daughter’s -misconduct he hesitated. His wife, who had been growing more and more -sick at thought of leaving their home and friends forever, put in a -timely word while he wavered, whispering that there were better and more -convenient ways by which their child might be guided into the path of -right. He saw the soundness of the arguments employed, and soon yielded, -quietly expressing his determination to go back home and remain there in -future. - -So, without more ado, the boats were drawn out of their hiding-place -under the drooping willows, and, after laying Jim McCabe in the bottom of -one of them, the party embarked for home. The paddles were dipped, and -the little fleet started off up the river, Kirby Kidd and Wapawah taking -the lead in their canoe, while Nick Robbins and Mike Terry brought up the -rear in theirs. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE CLOCK PEDDLER’S TRANSFORMATION. - - -On the following morning our party of voyagers arrived safely at their -destination. The men had used their oars so steadily during the night -that, by dawn, they were near enough home to have no fears in finishing -their journey by daylight. - -As they disembarked and approached the settlement, the people came out in -crowds to meet them, all surprised beyond measure to see the Morelands -coming back so soon, but doubly astonished when they saw Jim McCabe among -them a bound and guarded prisoner. Great was the confusion, and numerous -the inquiries put to the returned voyagers. But so many questions could -not be answered at once, and, answering none, our friends moved on with -their captive until they reached the wide clearing just without the -fort, where the execution of Russell Trafford had taken place. Here they -stopped, and threw McCabe on the ground, where he lay in sullen silence, -the object of wondering looks and exclamations. When something like quiet -was restored, Mr. Moreland confronted the crowd and explained to them, in -a few words, that which they were clamoring to be informed. He told them -that the cause of their return was the discovery that McCabe was the real -murderer of Doctor Trafford, who had been burned alive in his own house -a short time back, and, for which assassination the victim’s nephew had -been compelled to suffer. He also told them that the profligate was the -friend and ally of that notorious renegade, Simon Girty, and related how -the two fiends had hatched a plot to surprise and butcher the party on -the island. Then he went on to explain how all this had been found out -by the bold and cunning hunter, Nick Robbins; how the latter had dogged -him with a perseverance worthy of the cause—thwarted his purpose by the -utmost daring and coolness—and led him into a trap, where he exposed the -secret of his crime in the hearing of the emigrant party. - -Mr. Moreland held the attention of his audience enchained while he -was speaking, and his clear, calm voice was the only one to be heard -throughout the recital. But no sooner had he finished than the storm -broke. Yells of rage made the welkin ring, and, wild with excitement, the -men rushed to the spot where the helpless prisoner lay, as though they -would annihilate him without a moment’s warning. Shouts of, “Shoot him!” -“Knife him!” “String him up!” “Here’s a rope!” etc., were clamorously -indulged in. There was scarcely a man present who did not recall the last -words of Russell Trafford, as he spoke from the scaffold, and realize -that an innocent man had been put to death! The revelation maddened -the honest settlers, most of whom had been firm friends of the young -man, and, as they thought of the awful mistake they had committed, -self-reproach did not satisfy them. Here was the real murderer in their -power—the black-hearted wretch who had caused the destruction of those -two lives. Should they spare him? Never! Should they submit him to the -condign punishment of the rope? Yes! a thousand times, yes! Nothing -milder could satisfy their fierce indignation. With shouts and curses -they gathered round the prostrate brute with drawn weapons. - -In all likelihood the defenseless captive would have been violently dealt -with, but for the timely interference of Mr. Moreland, Kirby Kidd and -several others, who interposed their bodies and commanded the crowd to -move back. - -“Men,” shouted Mr. Moreland, “for the sake of heaven calm yourselves, and -wait until you hear all. If you harm the fellow in his present helpless -condition, you will regret afterward that you did not wait. No punishment -is too bad for the wretch, but, whatever is done to him let it be done -with due deliberation, remembering the sad result of our hastiness on a -former occasion.” - -This partially quelled the disturbance. The excited men moved slowly -back, though not without murmurs of disapprobation, and more than one -deadly weapon was shaken threateningly at McCabe, as they widened the -circle around him. The exposure of the fellow’s villainy seemed to -have maddened them. To think that he had been living peaceably among -them—_he_, a confederate of Simon Girty, and the murderer of Doctor -Trafford—_he_, who had caused them to make the awful mistake of hanging -an innocent man in his stead! Indeed, it was enough to infuriate them. - -“It has been irrefragably proved to us,” continued Mr. Moreland, “that -our prisoner is guilty of that dark deed, for which we have caused one of -our noblest and most inoffensive young men to suffer the worst punishment -of the law, but, for all that, we can not see him unjustly dealt with. -Whatever we do, I repeat, let us do it in the full possession of our -senses. Give him a fair trial. Here’s a boy, the cousin of the prisoner, -who has something to say that is quite important.” - -As he spoke he lifted Mike Terry above the heads of the assembly, and -placed him on his shoulder, that he might be seen and heard by all. At -first the boy could not utter a word, but after several attempts he found -his voice, and began. There was profound silence while he spoke. He -gave his evidence in a remarkably clear and straightforward manner, nor -faltered when he observed the black looks that were bestowed upon him, as -he told of the part he had taken in the destruction of his master’s life. -But as soon as he finished he burst into tears, and told them to hang -him if they wanted to, as he deserved it. Mr. Moreland placed him on the -ground again, and whispered a few comforting words in his ear, assuring -him that he should not be harmed. - -To the surprise of all, Jonathan Boggs, from Maine, now stepped out -before the people, and cleared his throat as if he were about to make a -tremendous speech! - -He looked around on the many faces that were turned upon him, with -all the gravity and grandeur of a renowned orator. He took a large -handkerchief from his pocket, pushed his hat back from his forehead, -wiped his face and blowed his nose. Then, clasping his hands behind -him, he again cleared his throat, and once more swept his eyes over the -staring multitude. - -This was too much for those whose susceptibility of titillation was -not entirely drowned by the general excitement and anger, and there was -an outburst of boisterous laughter at the Yankee’s expense. Some cried, -“Give him air!” others, “Don’t crowd the speaker!” while a shrill, piping -voice demanded: - -“Why don’t he take off his hat and stand on it, so’t we can all see him?” - -These and similar sallies were aimed at the luckless New-Englander, and -the boys, taking it up, began to hoot at him most unmercifully, one -mischievous urchin making so bold as to slip forward and pull one of his -long coat-tails. - -But all this did not drive Jonathan Boggs from his position. Raising one -hand, he commanded, sternly: - -“Silence! Hold your goll-darned tongues till you know what you are -laughin’ at!” - -Strange to say, these words served the purpose. The noisy ones -immediately became quiet, and taking advantage of the lull, the -clock-vender resumed: - -“Hearken unto me, and weigh well my ejaculations. I appear before -you this morning to deliver a most important address—or rayther, -_undress_—but, ef you don’t listen, how in the name of Tabitha Simpson -do you expect to hear? Look at me! Gaze on me! I’m goin’ to open your -eyes with wonder, and relieve your minds of the erroneous conviction -that you have hung a man through mistake. Watch my movements, ladies and -gentlemen, and _mark the transformation_!” - -Before any one could divine his intention, the Yankee had grasped his -swallow-tailed coat by each lapel, and thrown it off, dropping it upon -the ground! Then he made another quick movement, and off went the tall, -bell-crowned hat, accompanied by a mass of tow-colored hair, and followed -by several smaller “fixin’s” that completed the disguise. In less time -than it takes to tell it, all that remained of Jonathan Boggs lay in a -small heap on the ground! - -In his place stood—_who but Russell Trafford_! - -The effect of this transformation on the throng of settlers who witnessed -it, may be more easily imagined than described. Everybody in the -settlement knew that ludicrous specimen of the Maine Yankee, known by the -name of Jonathan Boggs, and to see him change himself into a man whom -they had never expected to see again on earth—no wonder every tongue was -paralyzed, every form petrified! - -For a full minute it was thus. A silence like that of the tomb hung over -the spot. It seemed as if the people would never recover from the effects -of their amazement. Russell Trafford stood before them, as natural as -life, his fine form drawn up to its full hight, and a smile playing over -his handsome features as he calmly noted the result of his disclosure. -And yet, how could it be he? They thought—nay, they _knew_ he was dead. -They had seen him hung, and had followed him to his grave. Surely no man -could live after hanging as he had hung; much less leave his grave. - -Young Trafford did not wait for them to recover the use of their tongues, -but embraced the opportunity their silence afforded to explain to them -the mystery. Lifting his rich, manly voice, he began to speak. - -“Friends,” he said, “I disclose myself to you to-day, knowing that I -am at last out of danger, and once more free to take up my abode among -you, in my own name and guise. Until this hour you have supposed me -guilty of the murder of my uncle, and also thought you put me to death -for the same. I am still alive, as you see. You are struck dumb with -amazement, but I will explain all to you in a very short time. I am not -a spirit, nor am I other than he whom I now seem to be. I am Russell -Trafford, in the full possession of my health. After my conviction and -sentence, you all know that I was locked up in the block-house, there -to be in durance vile until the day set apart for my execution. Some of -you know, likewise, that during my imprisonment, Kirby Kidd, and Wapawah -came to the block-house and asked the privilege of a private interview -with me. Their request was readily complied with, and the two scouts -were shown into my cell. As soon as they were left alone with me, they -announced their intention to save my life, if it could possibly be done -by artifice. Of course this was wholly unexpected to me, and, at first, -I was inclined to be incredulous. But they assured me it was no jest; -they had consulted and decided, and they had determined to save me if it -lay in their power to do so. Kidd declared that he would not have lifted -a hand in my favor, had he thought for a moment that I was the real -perpetrator of the crime; but he could not believe me guilty, and knew -he was doing right in case I was innocent. He told me his services had -already been solicited and engaged for executioner, and that that was -vastly in our favor. - -“The stratagem resorted to was this: a leather strap was fastened firmly -around my shoulders, underneath my clothing, in such a manner that the -noose of the rope could be easily and quickly attached to it. By this -means the noose would be prevented from closing on my neck, and I would -hang by my shoulders instead. - -“It is needless to tell you that this plan worked to a charm, for my -presence here to-day proves that it did. You will remember that it was -Kirby Kidd who proposed using a death-cap, and that he furnished the -article himself without consulting any one. This was to conceal my face -at the last moment, so that its very lifelike appearance would not betray -the ungenuineness of my death-struggles. At the time you thought the last -breath was forced from my body, I was suspended in comparative ease, -and was breathing as freely as any of you. Pretending to fear that the -mob would visit some foul indignity upon my body during the night that -followed, Kirby Kidd and Wapawah obtained permission to take charge of -the supposed corpse, and guard it until the next day. In the dead hours -of night we filled the coffin with a heavy stick of timber and some dirt, -and fastened the lid securely over them. Next day the funeral services -were performed over this stick of wood, with great solemnity, and almost -the entire population of our village followed these remains to their last -resting-place! I was kept closely hidden until my two friends procured -me the disguise which I have just cast off. On the third day after my -would-be execution, I made my appearance among you in the character of -a Yankee clock-peddler. I went to the house of Mr. Moreland on that -same day, and, finding Isabel alone, I disclosed my identity to her, -and explained all. I did not deem it safe to impart the secret to her -parents, though I think they had faith in my innocence. - -“Isabel promised to meet me that night out in the glade where they had -made the grave for me. There I could lay aside my disguise and meet her -as of old. At a pretty late hour I repaired to the appointed place, -accompanied by Kidd, Wapawah and Robbins, who were to keep watch, and -warn us if anybody should chance to come that way during the few short -moments of our tryst. These three men stationed themselves in the -edge of the woods, while Isabel and I stood by the new-made grave and -conversed. It seems that this fellow, McCabe, was hanging about the place -at the same time. How he approached without attracting the attention of -the guards it is impossible to tell, but he did it somehow or other, -unless he was there before our arrival. The first intimation we had of -his presence was a loud oath, followed by a vow that somebody should -die if he had a hundred lives! I presume the “somebody” was myself, -for the next instant he came bounding toward me with pistol in hand. -Kirby Kidd was too quick for him, however, and caught him by the collar -before mischief could be done. While the scouts claimed his attention, -the lady and I quickly ensconced ourselves in a large hollow tree that -stood near by, and after trying to make him believe he had seen nothing, -they let him depart. We continued our meetings there night after night. -I knew the nature of McCabe too well to believe that he would subject -himself to ridicule by asserting that he had seen Russell Trafford, when -everybody would have sworn that I was dead. So we did not change our -trysting-place. Sometimes the three hunters would accompany us, but they -were often absent from the fort and could not. - -“We did not know that anybody besides McCabe ever saw us there together, -but you all know that a report got afloat that Isabel was meeting a -stranger in the woods almost every night. Isabel herself was ignorant of -the existence of this report until the very last moment, on the evening -that she was to be taken away from her home. Noble and self-sacrificing -as ever, she suffered herself to be traduced rather than betray me. That -night, after the Morelands had gone to the river to embark on their brief -voyage, Isabel returned to the house on pretense of having forgotten some -small article. Her object in thus deceiving her parents was to keep her -appointment with me, and to tell me that she was going away—which she -did. But it so fell out that McCabe was again lurking about the glade -that evening, and he saw us as we sat side by side on the grave. He -discharged a rifle at us, but the ball went wide of the mark, and, under -cover of the smoke, we ran to the hollow tree that stands on the edge -of the glade, and hastily concealed ourselves in its ample cavity. He -searched for us for some time, but in vain. For fear he would find us, -I quickly donned my disguise and went forth from my hiding-place, to -throw him off the track. As Jonathan Boggs I confronted him, and made him -believe they were imaginary beings he had seen. When he was gone Isabel -joined me, and together we went to the river where her parents were -awaiting her. I obtained permission to make one of the emigrant-party, -and that is all I have to tell.” - -For a moment after this explanation was ended that deep silence -continued. Then Mrs. Moreland clasped her wronged daughter in her -arms and began to weep hysterically, while the former friends of the -noble girl went forward to crave her pardon, and offer her their -congratulations. - -This was but a signal for the men. In an instant cheer after cheer -rent the air, and the hardy settlers rushed forward in a body. Lifting -Russell Trafford upon their shoulders, they bore him round the spot with -shouts of joy, and the wildest confusion reigned. A great many, among -whom was Mr. Moreland, shook the hands of Kirby Kidd, Nick Robbins and -the Wyandott until the arms of the three champions ached from wrist to -shoulder. - -The tumult soon subsided. Then Russell, after thanking all for their -manifestations of renewed friendship, joined the Moreland family and -received the blessings of his future parents-in-law. Isabel was once -more smiling and happy, and among those who had looked upon her with -scorn a few days before, not one asked her forgiveness in vain. Her -dark, luminous eyes beamed with unutterable love and tenderness upon her -affianced husband, and the rich color stained her beautiful face and neck -as he drew her arm through his, and began to walk up and down in the -background. - -As soon as an opportunity offered, Nick Robbins stepped forward to -address the people. All guessed at once that he had something of -importance to say, though none could imagine what it was. Every tongue -was hushed, and every ear opened, as the grim old hunter took his -position. He gazed blankly at his audience for a moment, and then began -to speak. - -“I ain’t got much to say,” he said, leaning on his rifle, “but I reckon -ye won’t ’spect much from sech as me. I’m goin’ to open yer peepers -ag’in, same as the young feller did. I don’t like to see ye surprised -so powerful bad, but then I calc’late the shock’ll be a leetle milder -this time, ’cause yer gittin’ used to it. Prepare yerselves now to see -somethin’ wonderful, an’ don’t git it into yer noddles ’ut yer in fairy -land, or any sech outlandish place.” - -As he uttered the last words he dropped his gun, and straightened up. To -the astonishment of the lookers-on he then snatched off his coon-skin -cap, together with a wig of long hair and the bandage that had covered -his eye! Next he removed the patch from his cheek, the coarse red beard -from his chin, and then he quickly threw off his buck-skin garments. - -In a single instant Nick Robbins had vanished, and _Doctor Trafford stood -revealed before the crowd_! - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. - - -For a moment the people stood aghast at this second revelation. But -it was only for a moment. The startling transformation of Jonathan -Boggs into Russell Trafford had prepared them for almost any change of -this description. When the first shock of surprise was over, the loud, -prolonged cheers burst forth again, and shouts and screams of joy, -amazement and congratulations, once more filled the air. The excited -pioneers gathered round the smiling doctor, as he pleasantly exchanged -salutations with one after another, and a hundred inquiries were -propounded to him in such rapid succession that he found it impossible to -answer any. The ugly, expressionless face of Nick Robbins, the hunter, -was gone, and in its place was the very expressive and finely-cut -features of Doctor Trafford, the man who all had supposed was long since -dead, burned alive in his bed. - -The confusion of voices still continued, until the doctor requested the -crowd to fall back, and be still, that he might tell them what they were -clamoring to know. - -The request answered the purpose. They widened the space around the -doctor, and quiet was once more restored. - -“You need not stare at me as though I were superhuman,” began the -doctor. “I can explain to you clearly how it happened that I am still -alive, and how you were so easily deceived. On the night of the fire, -and supposed tragedy, I was not in the house at all. It was about the -hour of midnight, as you must recollect, and, being unable to sleep, I -had gone out to take a stroll in the open air, which some of you know -I frequently did. To be sure my chamber-door was locked, as Mike Terry -reported to McCabe, but that need not seem strange. I, being a prime -old bachelor, never left the house without first locking the door of my -private apartment, as I never could bear the thought of having my things -disturbed in my absence. - -“After walking about until my nerves were so settled that I thought I -should have no further difficulty in winning the spirit of sleep, I -bent my steps toward home. But my approach was checked by the sight of -somebody prowling around the house. At first I thought it was my nephew, -the manner of his dress giving me the impression, but his singular -actions speedily convinced me that I was mistaken. I stood and watched -the man with some curiosity, wondering what he meant by sneaking around -my cabin at that late hour. He went clear around the house in a stooping -posture, and when he arrived at the point where I had first seen him, he -turned and ran away at the top of his speed. He came straight toward the -spot where I was standing. Moved by a sudden impulse, I jumped behind a -tree to let him pass without discovering me. The man approached swiftly -on tiptoe. I heard him breathing hard, as if with excitement, as he came -up. Somewhat to my alarm he stopped within three feet of my hiding-place, -and looked back. This pause in his flight was of scarcely more than a -moment’s duration, but that was enough. Within that moment I distinctly -heard him say: - -“‘It is done—it is done! Doctor Trafford will never leave that house -alive! The deed will be imputed to his upstart of a nephew, and my -purpose will be accomplished!’ - -“The next instant he was gone. I had not recognized the fellow, nor his -voice, nor had I time to follow him before he was out of sight. A light, -flashing in my face, startled me. I looked toward my cabin, and saw that -it was in flames. I guessed the truth at once. The unknown had set fire -to the building for the purpose of burning me in my bed. The words I had -heard fall from his mouth convinced me of this fact, and, as I reflected, -I began to suspect that the would-be-murderer was Jim McCabe. I could -not think that this man had any direct cause to attempt my life, but I -knew that Russell was his rival in love, and I thought it quite probable -that he had chosen this circuitous way of getting rid of his rival. -The prowler had said, in my hearing, that I could not escape with my -life—that my nephew would receive the penalty of the deed—and that thus -his purpose would be accomplished. This led me to believe that the blow -was aimed at Russell, after all, indirect as it was. - -“By this time there was an uproar all around me, and people were pouring -out of their homes to see the fire. I saw them gathering around the -burning structure, but I did not move. An idea struck me. I hastily -decided to steal away from the fort, and leave you all to suppose that -I was really roasted alive in my own house. Then I could return in -disguise, and hunt out the real perpetrator of that night’s work, nor -make myself known until I had proved his guilt. I went. By careful -maneuvering I managed to get outside of the stockade unseen, the sentry -at the gate having temporarily deserted his post at the alarm of fire. -Once beyond the limits of the fort, I felt that my flight was well -commenced. I then struck out in a southerly direction, and traveled many, -many weary miles toward the interior. - -“At last I came upon a solitary hut in the woods. I found it occupied by -a good-natured old hunter, who gave me rest, shelter and food. Luckily, -I had met with the right man, for the old hunter furnished me with this -disguise, with which I have deceived you all. He told me it had been -of great service to him while acting in the capacity of spy, in the -French and Indian War, and amused me with the recital of many thrilling -adventures through which he had passed. Having assumed the appearance -of an old rover of the forest, and the name of Nick Robbins, I returned -to this place. I arrived here at the very hour that my nephew was to be -executed. I was astonished, and thought at first that I would have to -reveal myself in order to save him. But I did not. You will remember that -I ascended the scaffold, and talked with Kirby Kidd. He told me of the -artifice resorted to by which they hoped to save Russell’s life, and on -hearing that, I concluded to wear my disguise yet longer. - -“When the hanging affair was over, I consigned myself assiduously to the -task of watching McCabe, and clearing the name of my innocent ward. How I -succeeded in my self-imposed mission you have been told. During all, only -four persons, besides myself, knew that I was other than what I seemed; -those four were Kirby Kidd and his Indian friend, Isabel Moreland and my -nephew.” - -Doctor Trafford ended his explanation with this, and for some time -after he had ceased speaking, all seemed to be occupied with their own -thoughts. Then a raw-boned, bean-pole-looking individual, who could not -get the idea out of his head that he was in the presence of a ghost, -drawled out: - -“That ’ere’s all very fine, doc., but how the de’il are you goin’ to -account for the skeleton we found in the ruins of your house?” - -Doctor Trafford smiled. - -“Why, sir,” he replied, “isn’t it quite natural that one of my profession -should have a human skeleton in his house? Moreover, had the bones been -mine, it is hardly probable that the flesh would have been entirely -consumed by the fire.” - -This settled that point. - -Now Jim McCabe once more became the center of attraction. Some of the -most vengeful cried out clamorously for his blood, and the majority were -in favor of hanging him on the spot, without any ceremony whatever. But -Mr. Moreland earnestly remonstrated against such a proceeding. He told -them there was no necessity for haste, and that the criminal should be -allowed time to repent before ushering him into the presence of his -Maker. Many were loth to wait, but none would disregard the wishes of the -speaker. - -At this juncture, however, an incident occurred that put an end to the -disagreement. All the time that the revelations and explanations were -chaining the attention of the whole crowd, Jim McCabe had been struggling -desperately with the cords that bound him. Nobody had noticed him, and, -by the time Doctor Trafford finished his story, he ceased his squirming -and lay perfectly quiet. - -All of a sudden he sprung to his feet with the agility of a panther, and -bounded into the open space in the midst of the crowd. Here he stood, -with limbs entirely free, glaring about him at the mass of people on -every side, his face deadly pale, his eyes bloodshot and his nostrils -distended. - -“Ha! ha! ha!” he screamed, “did you think I would become an easy victim -to the tortures you propose to inflict upon me? I _did_ set fire to the -house of Doctor Trafford, and it _was_ for the purpose of having his -nephew die by the hand of the law. What of it? I shall deny nothing, nor -shall I attempt to escape your vengeance. But, hark ye! I shall not go -alone. There is one here who must go with me across the dark river!” - -He whirled round, as he concluded his wild speech, and stood face to face -with Russell Trafford! Thrusting his hand into his breast, he drew forth -a glittering dagger, and flourished it over his head with a maniacal yell. - -Then, before anybody could make an effort to detain the maddened brute, -he crouched down and made a flying leap toward young Trafford. For a -single instant his bending form was suspended in mid air—the next it fell -sprawling on the grass at the feet of the man he had intended to kill! -Almost before he touched the ground Jim McCabe was dead! - -Then there were screams of affright from the females, mingled with shouts -of surprise and alarm from the males, and scores of excited men crowded -around the fallen wretch. In his death-spasm McCabe had turned over on -his back, in which position he now lay, his eyes fixed and glassy, his -features horribly distorted, and his brains slowly oozing out through a -small hole in his temple! Every one seemed struck with a feeling akin to -awe by the sad spectacle, and a profound silence ensued. It was broken -at length by the deep, solemn voice of Mr. Moreland, saying: - -“God have mercy on his soul!” - -But who had fired the fatal shot? The question, though unuttered, seemed -to strike the whole party at once, and all as of one accord, turned -their eyes to see which of their number had won the honor of saving -a fellow-creature’s life. Who can describe their astonishment and -admiration when they beheld Mike Terry standing a few yards away, with a -smoking pistol in his hand! _He_ it was who had snatched Russell Trafford -from the very jaws of a horrible death. The young man stepped up to him, -seized him by the hand and said, with much feeling: - -“God bless you, Mike! You have done a noble act, and proved yourself a -true-hearted fellow after all.” - -A great many others echoed these words, and the Irish boy was the hero -of the hour. The body of the miserable wretch, Jim McCabe, was now borne -away, and, shortly after, the crowd dispersed, and the people sought -their different homes, there to muse and remark on the extraordinary -events that had occurred in their midst. - -Subsequently Doctor Trafford erected another and much larger cabin on -the spot where the first one had stood, and Mike Terry was once more -installed in his service, now more loved and trusted than ever before. -Russell and Isabel lived long and happily together, and in after years -were wont to gather their children’s children upon their knees, and tell -the story of the PHANTOM HUNTER. - - THE END. - - - - -DIME POCKET NOVELS. - -PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH. - - - =1=—=Hawkeye Harry.= By Oll Coomes. - =2=—=Dead Shot.= By Albert W. Aiken. - =3=—=The Boy Miners.= By Edward S. Ellis. - =4=—=Blue Dick.= By Capt. Mayne Reid. - =5=—=Nat Wolfe.= By Mrs. M. V. Victor. - =6=—=The White Tracker.= Edward S. Ellis. - =7=—=The Outlaw’s Wife.= Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. - =8=—=The Tall Trapper.= By Albert W. Aiken. - =9=—=Lightning Jo.= By Capt. Adams. - =10=—=The Island Pirate.= By Capt. Mayne Reid. - =11=—=The Boy Ranger.= By Oll Coomes. - =12=—=Bess, the Trapper.= By E. S. Ellis. - =13=—=The French Spy.= By W. J. Hamilton. - =14=—=Long Shot.= By Capt. Comstock. - =15=—=The Gunmaker.= By James L. Bowen. - =16=—=Red Hand.= By A. G. Piper. - =17=—=Ben, the Trapper.= By Lewis W. Carson. - =18=—=Wild Raven.= By Oll Coomes. - =19=—=The Specter Chief.= By Seelin Robins. - =20=—=The B’ar-Killer.= By Capt. Comstock. - =21=—=Wild Nat.= By Wm. H. Eyster. - =22=—=Indian Jo.= By Lewis W. Carson. - =23=—=Old Kent, the Ranger.= Edward S. Ellis. - =24=—=The One-Eyed Trapper.= Capt. Comstock. - =25=—=Godbold, the Spy.= By N. C. Iron. - =26=—=The Black Ship.= By John S. Warner. - =27=—=Single Eye.= By Warren St. John. - =28=—=Indian Jim.= By Edward S. Ellis. - =29=—=The Scout.= By Warren St. John. - =30=—=Eagle Eye.= By W. J. Hamilton. - =31=—=The Mystic Canoe.= By Edward S. Ellis. - =32=—=The Golden Harpoon.= By R. Starbuck. - =33=—=The Scalp King.= By Lieut. Ned Hunter. - =34=—=Old Lute.= By E. W. Archer. - =35=—=Rainbolt, Ranger.= By Oll Coomes. - =36=—=The Boy Pioneer.= By Edward S. Ellis. - =37=—=Carson, the Guide.= By J. H. Randolph. - =38=—=The Heart Eater.= By Harry Hazard. - =39=—=Wetzel, the Scout.= By Boynton Belknap. - =40=—=The Huge Hunter.= By Ed. S. Ellis. - =41=—=Wild Nat, the Trapper.= Paul Prescott. - =42=—=Lynx-cap.= By Paul Bibbs. - =43=—=The White Outlaw.= By Harry Hazard. - =44=—=The Dog Trailer.= By Frederick Dewey. - =45=—=The Elk King.= By Capt. Chas. Howard. - =46=—=Adrian, the Pilot.= By Col. P. Ingraham. - =47=—=The Man-hunter.= By Maro O. Rolfe. - =48=—=The Phantom Tracker.= By F. Dewey. - =49=—=Moccasin Bill.= By Paul Bibbs. - =50=—=The Wolf Queen.= By Charles Howard. - =51=—=Tom Hawk, the Trailer.= - =52=—=The Mad Chief.= By Chas. Howard. - =53=—=The Black Wolf.= By Edwin E. Ewing. - =54=—=Arkansas Jack.= By Harry Hazard. - =55=—=Blackbeard.= By Paul Bibbs. - =56=—=The River Rifles.= By Billex Muller. - =57=—=Hunter Ham.= By J. Edgar Iliff. - =58=—=Cloudwood.= By J. M. Merrill. - =59=—=The Texas Hawks.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =60=—=Merciless Mat.= By Capt. Chas. Howard. - =61=—=Mad Anthony’s Scouts.= By E. Rodman. - =62=—=The Luckless Trapper.= Wm. R. Eyster. - =63=—=The Florida Scout.= Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =64=—=The Island Trapper.= Chas. Howard. - =65=—=Wolf-Cap.= By Capt. Chas. Howard. - =66=—=Rattling Dick.= By Harry Hazard. - =67=—=Sharp-Eye.= By Major Max Martine. - =68=—=Iron-Hand.= By Frederick Forest. - =69=—=The Yellow Hunter.= By Chas. Howard. - =70=—=The Phantom Rider.= By Maro O. Rolfe. - =71=—=Delaware Tom.= By Harry Hazard. - =72=—=Silver Rifle.= By Capt. Chas. Howard. - =73=—=The Skeleton Scout.= Maj. L. W. Carson. - =74=—=Little Rifle.= By Capt. “Bruin” Adams. - =75=—=The Wood Witch.= By Edwin Emerson. - =76=—=Old Ruff, the Trapper.= “Bruin” Adams. - =77=—=The Scarlet Shoulders.= Harry Hazard. - =78=—=The Border Rifleman.= L. W. Carson. - =79=—=Outlaw Jack.= By Harry Hazard. - =80=—=Tiger-Tail, the Seminole.= R. Ringwood. - =81=—=Death-Dealer.= By Arthur L. Meserve. - =82=—=Kenton, the Ranger.= By Chas. Howard - =83=—=The Specter Horseman.= Frank Dewey. - =84=—=The Three Trappers.= Seelin Robins. - =85=—=Kaleolah.= By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N. - =86=—=The Hunter Hercules.= Harry St. George. - =87=—=Phil Hunter.= By Capt. Chas. Howard. - =88=—=The Indian Scout.= By Harry Hazard. - =89=—=The Girl Avenger.= By Chas. Howard. - =90=—=The Red Hermitess.= By Paul Bibbs. - =91=—=Star-Face, the Slayer.= - =92=—=The Antelope Boy.= By Geo. L. Aiken. - =93=—=The Phantom Hunter.= By E. Emerson. - =94=—=Tom Pintle, the Pilot.= By M. Klapp. - =95=—=The Red Wizard.= By Ned Hunter. - =96=—=The Rival Trappers.= By L. W. Carson. - =97=—=The Squaw Spy.= By Capt. Chas. Howard. - =98=—=Dusky Dick.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =99=—=Colonel Crockett.= By Chas. E. Lasalle. - =100=—=Old Bear Paw.= By Major Max Martine. - =101=—=Redlaw.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =102=—=Wild Rube.= By W. J. Hamilton. - =103=—=The Indian Hunters.= By J. L. Bowen. - =104=—=Scarred Eagle.= By Andrew Dearborn. - =105=—=Nick Doyle.= By P. Hamilton Myers. - =106=—=The Indian Spy.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =107=—=Job Dean.= By Ingoldsby North, - =108=—=The Wood King.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =109=—=The Scalped Hunter.= By Harry Hazard. - =110=—=Nick, the Scout.= By W. J. Hamilton. - =111=—=The Texas Tiger.= By Edward Willett. - =112=—=The Crossed Knives.= By Hamilton. - =113=—=Tiger-Heart, the Tracker.= By Howard. - =114=—=The Masked Avenger.= By Ingraham. - =115=—=The Pearl Pirates.= By Starbuck. - =116=—=Black Panther.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =117=—=Abdiel, the Avenger.= By Ed. Willett. - =118=—=Cato, the Creeper.= By Fred. Dewey. - =119=—=Two-Handed Mat.= By Jos. E. Badger. - =120=—=Mad Trail Hunter.= By Harry Hazard. - =121=—=Black Nick.= By Frederick Whittaker. - =122=—=Kit Bird.= By W. J. Hamilton. - =123=—=The Specter Riders.= By Geo. Gleason. - =124=—=Giant Pete.= By W. J. Hamilton. - =125=—=The Girl Captain.= By Jos. E. Badger. - =126=—=Yankee Eph.= By J. R. Worcester. - =127=—=Silverspur.= By Edward Willett. - =128=—=Squatter Dick.= By Jos. E. Badger. - =129=—=The Child Spy.= By George Gleason. - =130=—=Mink Coat.= By Jos. E. Badger. - =131=—=Red Plume.= By J. Stanley Henderson. - =132=—=Clyde, the Trailer.= By Maro O. Rolfe. - =133=—=The Lost Cache.= J. Stanley Henderson. - =134=—=The Cannibal Chief.= Paul J. Prescott. - =135=—=Karaibo.= By J. Stanley Henderson. - =136=—=Scarlet Moccasin.= By Paul Bibbs. - =137=—=Kidnapped.= By J. Stanley Henderson. - =138=—=Maid of the Mountain.= By Hamilton. - =139=—=The Scioto Scouts.= By Ed. Willett. - =140=—=The Border Renegade.= By Badger. - =141=—=The Mute Chief.= By C. D. Clark. - =142=—=Boone, the Hunter.= By Whittaker. - =143=—=Mountain Kate.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =144=—=The Red Scalper.= By W. J. Hamilton. - =145=—=The Lone Chief.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - =146=—=The Silver Bugle.= Lieut. Col. Hazleton. - =147=—=Chinga, the Cheyenne.= By E. S. Ellis. - =148=—=The Tangled Trail.= By Major Martine. - =149=—=The Unseen Hand.= By J. S. Henderson. - =150=—=The Lone Indian.= By Capt. C. Howard. - =151=—=The Branded Brave.= By Paul Bibbs. - =152=—=Billy Bowlegs, The Seminole Chief.= - =153=—=The Valley Scout.= By Seelin Robins. - =154=—=Red Jacket.= By Paul Bibbs. - =155=—=The Jungle Scout.= Ready - =156=—=Cherokee Chief.= Ready - =157=—=The Bandit Hermit.= Ready - =158=—=The Patriot Scouts.= Ready - =159=—=The Wood Rangers.= - =160=—=The Red Foe.= Ready - =161=—=The Beautiful Unknown.= - =162=—=Canebrake Mose.= Ready - =163=—=Hank, the Guide.= Ready - =164=—=The Border Scout.= Ready - -BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHANTOM HUNTER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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