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diff --git a/old/69168-h/69168-h.htm b/old/69168-h/69168-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 538bc5d..0000000 --- a/old/69168-h/69168-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5661 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The phantom hunter; or, love after death, by Edwin Emerson. - </title> - - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -a { - text-decoration: none; -} - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -h2.nobreak { - page-break-before: avoid; -} - -hr.chap { - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - clear: both; - width: 65%; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -div.chapter { - page-break-before: always; -} - -table { - margin: 1em auto 1em auto; - border-collapse: collapse; -} - -td { - padding: 0.25em 0; - vertical-align: top; -} - -.tdr { - text-align: right; -} - -p { - margin-top: 0.5em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -.center { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.larger { - font-size: 150%; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 4%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; -} - -.smaller { - font-size: 80%; -} - -.smcap { - font-variant: small-caps; - font-style: normal; -} - -.titlepage { - text-align: center; - margin-top: 3em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - /* ]]> */ </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The phantom hunter, by Edwin Emerson</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The phantom hunter</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>or, love after death</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Edwin Emerson</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 16, 2022 [eBook #69168]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: David Edwards and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Northern Illinois University Digital Library)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHANTOM HUNTER ***</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage larger">THE PHANTOM HUNTER;<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smaller"><span class="smaller">OR,</span><br /> -<br /> -LOVE AFTER DEATH.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage">BY EDWIN EMERSON,<br /> -<span class="smaller">AUTHOR OF “THE WOOD WITCH,” ETC.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">NEW YORK:</span><br /> -BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,<br /> -<span class="smaller">98 WILLIAM STREET.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by<br /> -FRANK STARR & CO.,<br /> -In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h1>THE PHANTOM HUNTER;<br /> -<span class="smaller"><span class="smaller">OR,</span><br /> -LOVE AFTER DEATH.</span></h1> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br /> -<span class="smaller">BACKWOODS JUSTICE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>One bright afternoon, early in the month of August, there -was an unusual commotion at the Indian frontier post.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<em>open tinder-box</em> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> -of servant—testified that Russell and his uncle had -quarreled on the morning preceding the tragedy, and, moreover, -that he himself had <em>seen</em> Russell set fire to the building, -and he (Mike) had barely escaped with his own life.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>While the spectators were waiting nervously for the <i lang="fr">finale</i>, -the attention of many was attracted to a rather curious-looking -individual, who suddenly made his appearance among them.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Wal, Nick Robbins, ye know it’s my way. I allers try to -do my duty, whether it be pleasant or no.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He stepped back as he made this last declaration, and the -old ranger immediately placed the death-cap over his head.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>On the following day a grave was dug in a pretty glade just -outside of the settlement, and burial services were performed.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br /> -<span class="smaller">JONATHAN BOGGS, FROM MAINE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Good-morrow, Miss Moreland,” said he, with a profound -bow, and an attempt to smile pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir?” returned the girl, coldly.</p> - -<p>“Perfectly well, I thank you,” replied the rogue, choosing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -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?”</p> - -<p>“Not particularly.”</p> - -<p>“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—”</p> - -<p>“Sir, I must trouble you to drop this subject now and forever.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Do you persist in talking of this?” demanded Isabel.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>He hissed the last words through his clenched teeth, and -his usually red face grew still redder with anger.</p> - -<p>He was walking away from the spot, when a peculiar voice -behind him arrested his footsteps.</p> - -<p>“Hello, you! Jest draw rein a minute, ef you please.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How d’ye dew, stranger?” drawled the specimen, as he -came up. “Right nice weather we’re havin’ nowadays, ain’t -it?”</p> - -<p>“Splendid. But what do you want of me?”</p> - -<p>“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—”</p> - -<p>“See here,” interposed McCabe, crustily, “before you continue -your nonsense I should like to know who you are?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>Jim McCabe began to regard the Yankee with some curiosity.</p> - -<p>“When did you arrive here, Mr. Boggs?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“I brought up in this hamlet yesterday,” replied the Yankee, -squeezing his hands with difficulty into the pockets of his -“tights.”</p> - -<p>“Yesterday,” repeated the other. “It may seem strange -to you, but I really think I have seen your face somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“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—”</p> - -<p>But Jim McCabe was too thoroughly exasperated by the -<i lang="fr">sang froid</i> of his interlocutor, to let him go on in this strain.</p> - -<p>“Well, well!” he exclaimed, “if you have any thing of -importance to say, I wish to hear it at once.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span></p> - -<p>“Curse you for an idiot!” growled McCabe, irascibly, and -with an oath he started away.</p> - -<p>“Hold on, mister,” said Jonathan Boggs, coolly laying -his hand on the other’s shoulder. “Don’t go off ’thout hearin’ -me through.”</p> - -<p>“Hands off, scoundrel!” commanded the settler, fiercely. -“I’ll knock you down if you repeat this insult.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Who the deuce are you, anyway?” he demanded, sullenly.</p> - -<p>“Jonathan Boggs, from Maine,” was the quiet reply.</p> - -<p>“And your business with me?”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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 <em>died</em>. He was tew confounded smart tew -live—”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” said the settler, imperatively. “I don’t wish -to buy, and you will oblige me by discontinuing the subject.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -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?”</p> - -<p>“It was indeed,” was the brief answer.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>did</em> do -the deed.”</p> - -<p>“Did he though? Now that beats me. I s’pose you was -there, and see’d him dew it?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Dare you assert that he did not do it?”</p> - -<p>“Yas.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! the cursed fool don’t know what he’s talking -about.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“The top iv the mornin’ to yeez, Jamie,” said the young -Hibernian, as he met McCabe.</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you want?” gruffly demanded the man, -as the boy seized his arm to prevent him from passing on.</p> - -<p>“An’ is it that same quistion ye’d be askin’, sure? Phat -w’u’d I be afther wantin’ but money?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t any money,” declared McCabe, angrily.</p> - -<p>“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—”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Mike,” continued the man, glancing uneasily -around. “Have you gone crazy, or do you wish to expose me?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>So Jim McCabe and Mike Terry parted, both of them looking -very much discontented as they walked away in opposite -directions.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The eavesdropper was Nick Robbins.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br /> -<span class="smaller">LOVE AFTER DEATH.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Good Heaven! <em>the man was Russell Trafford himself</em>!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>female</em> 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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“What do you want of me?” demanded McCabe; “and -what do you mean by jerking a fellow about in that manner?”</p> - -<p>“See hyur, youngster,” drawled Kirby Kidd, peering into -the face of his captive, “who in creation are you, anyhow?”</p> - -<p>“None of your business,” was the curt reply.</p> - -<p>“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’?”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“What! When? Where?” ejaculated Kirby Kidd and -Nick Robbins, in a breath.</p> - -<p>“Why, <em>there</em>!” roared the ruffian, in the wildest excitement, -pointing toward the grave as he spoke.</p> - -<p>“This coon sees nothin’,” asserted Kidd.</p> - -<p>“Neither do this ’un,” echoed Robbins.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Poor cuss!” said the ranger; “he’s gone crazy, to a sartainty.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t—I deny it,” panted the terrified wretch. “By -the Great Jehovah, I saw them as plainly as I now see you!”</p> - -<p>“Yer see’d who?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p> - -<p>“Why, Miss Moreland and that young scamp of a Trafford.”</p> - -<p>“Poor cuss!” repeated the ranger, slowly. “He <em>is</em> crazy, -mold me into buckshot ef he ain’t.”</p> - -<p>“I tell you I am not,” cried the villain, with an oath.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon ’twur a couple o’ spooks,” said Kidd, solemnly. -“Whar wur ye goin’ when we saw fit to detain yer?”</p> - -<p>“I was approaching the ‘spooks,’ as you call them.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And I must return home,” said McCabe. “So good -night.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span></p> - -<p>They parted, and while the three hunters went their way -Jim McCabe walked slowly homeward.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">POOR ISABEL!</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span></p> - -<p>“Divil a cint iv yer money do I want,” replied the boy, -with a shrug of his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“What! Don’t you want it?”</p> - -<p>“Divil a cint,” he repeated, firmly.</p> - -<p>“Why, what has come over you?” asked McCabe, in surprise.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Why so, Mike? What the deuce are you whining -about?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Jim McCabe began to exhibit signs of alarm.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Not I, Jamie.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you as well as I. Was it not your evidence that -convicted <em>him</em>? 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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span></p> - -<p>“Jamie,” he whispered, huskily, “do yeez belave in -spooks?”</p> - -<p>McCabe started in spite of himself at this unexpected inquiry.</p> - -<p>“Spooks, boy? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Why, ghosts, to be sure. Raal ginewine ghosts.”</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha! of course I do not. But why do you ask?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“The raison why I ax,” said Mike, “is this: I saw one!”</p> - -<p>“What! saw a ghost? Nonsense.”</p> - -<p>“Yis, sur; a ginewine <em>sperit</em>. 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? <em>The ghost iv Russell Trafford!</em>”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You positively saw this?” he said to Mike.</p> - -<p>“Yis,” said Mike, “an’ I was dridfully scairt.”</p> - -<p>“Was the ‘ghost,’ as you call it, alone?”</p> - -<p>“Entirely alone; an’ I was scairt half out iv me wits.”</p> - -<p>“Did nobody join him there?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span></p> - -<p>McCabe mused awhile, and then asked:</p> - -<p>“You don’t believe in ghosts, Mike?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! your father was a drunken sot.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Come with me, cousin,” said McCabe, in a changed tone -of voice. “Let us go to my house and talk this thing over.”</p> - -<p>He linked his arm in that of the lad, and the two walked -slowly on together.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Again it was Nick Robbins!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br /> -<span class="smaller">CLOUDED HEARTS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” she answered, briefly.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“It is never a pleasure to part with one’s friends.”</p> - -<p>“Very true; and you will leave a great many friends behind -you,” said McCabe, feeling his way cautiously.</p> - -<p>“I trust you are right,” replied Isabel, coldly. “It is not -pleasant to reflect that our pathway of life is surrounded by -enemies alone.”</p> - -<p>“And yet such may be the case,” hinted the man.</p> - -<p>Observing nothing serious behind these words, Isabel was -silent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span></p> - -<p>“Miss Moreland,” he resumed, “I suppose you know nothing -of the slanderous reports that have been circulated at your -expense?”</p> - -<p>“I do not understand.”</p> - -<p>“Then listen. We were speaking of friends; it is my -opinion that you have comparatively few at present.”</p> - -<p>“Explain yourself.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He looked keenly at her, but was disappointed in what he -saw. Her face expressed nothing but astonishment and -offended pride.</p> - -<p>“Sir, you are impertinent,” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“I ask a simple question.”</p> - -<p>“I say you speak in riddles.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I know who started that report,” she said.</p> - -<p>“What—you know who—well?”</p> - -<p>“<em>You</em> did it, sir!”</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“I say, sir, that <em>you</em> were the originator of the malicious -report of which you take delight in telling me.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, madam, if I see fit to dispute your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Does my father know of this?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“He does. Both your father and mother have been repeatedly -told of it, if I am rightly informed.”</p> - -<p>The girl was silent again.</p> - -<p>“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—”</p> - -<p>“Cease your mockery, villain!” cried Isabel, her whole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Go, execrable wretch!” commanded Isabel. “I see my -father coming; take yourself off immediately, or I shall ask -him to assist you.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>The next moment he was gone.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. and Mrs. Moreland at once took their places in the -boat, but Isabel hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Come, child,” said her mother; “step in, and sit down -here by me. I suspect the men are impatient to be off.”</p> - -<p>The men were taking up their oars, preparatory to starting.</p> - -<p>“Mamma,” said Isabel, “I have forgotten something.”</p> - -<p>“Forgotten something?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“What is it? Nothing of importance, I hope, for we can -not tarry until you return for it.”</p> - -<p>“But it <em>is</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I will not be absent long,” persisted the maiden.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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’.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span></p> - -<p>“There, father; what do you say to that?” cried Isabel.</p> - -<p>“I say, my child, that I myself will go back after your -treasure,” said Mr. Moreland, preparing to step out of the -boat.</p> - -<p>“No, papa; no, no, no!” contested the daughter, earnestly. -“I will go myself. I can go more quickly, you -know.”</p> - -<p>And, before he could expostulate, she had turned and -tripped lightly up the bank, and in another moment had disappeared -in the darkness.</p> - -<p>As Isabel hurried through the woods toward the settlement, -she murmured to herself:</p> - -<p>“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 <em>him</em>.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE MYSTERY DEEPENS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -therefore he did not hesitate to undertake it on the score of -conscientious scruples.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Whar the nation be ye goin’?” he asked, suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr">furore</i> 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—”</p> - -<p>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;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <em>her</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> -some point directly in front of him—evidently from the -glade!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The man and woman sitting on the grave were Russell -Trafford and Isabel Moreland!</p> - -<p>It would be difficult to describe the feelings that harrowed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><em>Nobody was there!</em> 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.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -Then he stopped and pressed his hand to his brow, with an -effort to calm his excited brain.</p> - -<p>“I must be doomed,” he thought. “I have heard of people -seeing such visions, but they always die shortly afterward.”</p> - -<p>“Hallo, stranger! How dew you dew?” called out a -sharp, nasal voice at that juncture.</p> - -<p>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 <i>genus</i> <i>homo</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>“<em>You</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“Wal, yas,” answered the Yankee, with a huge grin; “I -calkilate this is <em>me</em>, and ef it <em>is</em> me I’m <em>here</em>. As Tabitha -Simpson used tew say—”</p> - -<p>“How came you here?” demanded McCabe, uneasily.</p> - -<p>“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 <em>did</em>—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 <em>sloped</em>, ’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—”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” cried McCabe. “Tell me, how long have you -been here?”</p> - -<p>“’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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span></p> - -<p>“No, no!” said the other, impatiently; “you misunderstood -me. What length of time have you been here?”</p> - -<p>“Been where?”</p> - -<p>“Why, here, in the vicinity—this spot?”</p> - -<p>“Wal,” drawled the Yankee, scratching his head, “I s’pect -I been in this vicinity several minutes, ef not longer.”</p> - -<p>“Have you seen any thing while you were here?”</p> - -<p>“See’d any thing? Wal, not a great deal. It’s rayther -tew darkish, like, tew see any thing, ain’t it, mister?”</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t know. Did you <em>hear</em> any thing, then?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“See here!” he exclaimed, “what dew you take me for?”</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“Are you pokin’ fun at me, or not?”</p> - -<p>“Most assuredly not!”</p> - -<p>“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, <em>I</em> 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“For heaven’s sake desist,” he pleaded. “You are offended -because I asked you a question. I have an object, I assure -you.”</p> - -<p>The “down-east” specimen seemed to relent at this.</p> - -<p>“Maybe I’m in the wrong,” he said, after a pause. “I believe -you axed me ef I’d heern any thing?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Now that is a queer question, and no mistake. Heern -any thing! Drat it, man, d’ you s’pose I’m deef? How<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -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?”</p> - -<p>“Did you hear that?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Where were you?”</p> - -<p>“Where was I? When you let that dot-rotted gun o’ -your’n go off I was settin’ right thar on that grave—”</p> - -<p>“<em>What!</em>”</p> - -<p>Jim McCabe staggered back like a drunken man, with -blanched face and staring eyes!</p> - -<p>“Lord, mister, what’s the matter?” asked the Yankee.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“That’s jest what I said.”</p> - -<p>“And who was with you?”</p> - -<p>“Me, and myself, and Jonathan Boggs. Nobody was with -me.”</p> - -<p>“You were alone, then?”</p> - -<p>“Yas.”</p> - -<p>“You <em>lie</em>!” almost screamed the profligate.</p> - -<p>“Hey!” ejaculated the Yankee. “See here, mister, that -’ere’s a <em>mighty</em> 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—”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -to be off without further loss of time. Shouldering his gun, -he strode past Boggs without a word, and walked rapidly -away.</p> - -<p>“Hold on!” shouted Jonathan. “Where you gwine tew?”</p> - -<p>“Go to the devil!” was the savage response.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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 <em>he</em> 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.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">BOGGS ADRIFT.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> -that she would not be absent a greater while than it would -require to run home, procure her case of trinkets, and return.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Moreland shook his head.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 -<em>thar</em>. Jest keep yer seat; she’ll be hyur in a minute, I take -it.”</p> - -<p>“But you forget the loss of time.”</p> - -<p>“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’.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -may run into a nest o’ the skunks on the very island whar we -are to stop?”</p> - -<p>“Hist! Listen!” exclaimed Mrs. Moreland, at this point -in the conversation. “I believe I heard our daughter’s -voice.”</p> - -<p>The two men paused and listened.</p> - -<p>“Thar’s somebody comin’, to a sartainty,” said the ranger, -hearing the snapping of twigs occasioned by a footfall in the -woods.</p> - -<p>“Very true, and I presume—Hark!”</p> - -<p>A peal of clear, rippling laughter fell upon their ears.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Only a friend, I suppose, who has accompanied her to the -river to see her off,” returned his wife.</p> - -<p>“Well, here they are. We can see who it is.”</p> - -<p>At that moment two persons appeared on the bank above -them.</p> - -<p>One of them was Isabel, truly, but the other was a <em>man</em>. -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.</p> - -<p>“Skulp me ef ’tain’t that ar’ clock-peddler, as sez he’s from -Maine,” chuckled one of the men.</p> - -<p>“It is, or I’m a skunk,” chimed in another.</p> - -<p>“Hallo, thar, Boggs,” called a third. “What in the name of -the Old Scratch are you doin’ hyur?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“A gentleman? Who is he?”</p> - -<p>“Jonathan Boggs, all the way from Maine!” ejaculated<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -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?”</p> - -<p>The Yankee drew himself up to his full hight, and coolly -scanned the crew of each vessel.</p> - -<p>“It strikes me I have seen you before,” said Mr. Moreland, -after surveying the New Englander from head to foot.</p> - -<p>“Wal, then, you may view me <em>behind</em> awhile,” returned the -man, with the utmost nonchalance, quietly turning his back -toward the voyagers as he spoke.</p> - -<p>“No, no; you did not understand me correctly,” said the -settler, smiling. “Come; look here.”</p> - -<p>The clock-vender turned slowly around again, seeming puzzled -by the low, chuckling laugh which ran through the party -of hunters.</p> - -<p>“Your name is Boggs?” asked Mr. Moreland.</p> - -<p>“Yas, all the way from Maine,” was the quick reply.</p> - -<p>“And you are going to the same fort we are bound for?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the talk.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I s’pose you’ll do your share if it comes to fighting?” said -one of the men, addressing the Yankee.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>There was a low, guarded laugh at the interrogator’s expense.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span></p> - -<p>“But you are unarmed,” continued the ranger, undaunted.</p> - -<p>“Unarmed? Jumpin’ Jemima! can’t you see these arms? -Jest look at that reach! I can pull a nigger’s hair at ten -yards!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but you have no weapons.”</p> - -<p>“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—”</p> - -<p>“Say,” interrupted a man in the other boat; “jest cause -that noisy chap to shet his meat-trap will yer?”</p> - -<p>Jonathan Boggs needed no further bidding, and in silence -the two boats drifted on through the increasing gloom.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">TWO WELL-MATCHED VILLAINS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>To a spot about ten miles distant from the settlement we -now ask the attention of the indulgent reader.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -steady breeze, and the trees ring with the lays of a thousand -feathered warblers singing glad welcome to the orb of day.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -under the rocky ledge on which he is lying, two men stand -conversing.</p> - -<p>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 <em>not</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And you will have occasion, sir, to thank your lucky stars<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>you</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Now, your business with me?” inquires the chief.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Their name?” interrupts the chief.</p> - -<p>“Is Moreland. Mr. Moreland has long been one of the -leading spirits of our place,” answers the other.</p> - -<p>“You say they are removing to the first fort below?” is the -next inquiry.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Without an escort?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not by any means. They are accompanied by a round -dozen of armed men. But what of that? You outnumber<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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—<em>except one</em>.”</p> - -<p>“And that one?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Want a wife, do you? Surely, then, you will not think -of returning to the whites with your unwilling bride?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Good. But I can’t make the attack in the daytime.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t asked you to.”</p> - -<p>“Yet you say the party will this evening continue their -voyage.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The renegade reflects a moment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span></p> - -<p>“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 <em>Simon -Girty</em>!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br /> -<span class="smaller">NICK ON A TRAIL.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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. <em>Simon Girty!</em> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span></p> - -<p>“Good!” cried McCabe. “I am glad you enter into my -scheme so willingly. You are a first-rate friend.”</p> - -<p>Simon Girty sneered.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it, by Jove! Have no fears for me. If you don’t -come off victorious I shall not be to blame.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose not—unless you play me false.”</p> - -<p>“And you know I will not do that.”</p> - -<p>“I am not certain.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” laughed McCabe, “my deeds shall be proof of my -fidelity. But where will you remain till the time for action?”</p> - -<p>“Here,” replied Girty. “I shall not leave this spot before -sundown.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span></p> - -<p>“Why? I want you to come back here toward evening, -and report your success, or failure, in your part of the performance.”</p> - -<p>“All right; I will do that, if you wish.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Ye-e-es, I suppose so,” was the hesitating answer. “But -if I am <em>not</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>So saying, Jim McCabe turned on his heel and walked -away, while Simon Girty joined his warriors by the fire.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The hunter’s mind was made up on the instant.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The hunter did not hesitate then, but strode boldly forward -and, without the least ceremony, laid his hand on McCabe’s -shoulder.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE TWO SCOUTS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It is used for both this morning. There is but one man in -the glen, a grizzled old hunter, whose stature and general appearance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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’ <em>sign</em> ’fore he went out, an’ it don’t stan’ to reason<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> -’ut he’ll be keerless; but then I want to hear what he’s -l’arned.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It is Wapawah, the friend and companion of the white -hunter.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Me busy,” replied the Wyandott, briefly.</p> - -<p>“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’?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—dey all dere.”</p> - -<p>“Did ye go over to the island?”</p> - -<p>Wapawah nods his head.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span></p> - -<p>“Did, eh? Found ’em all safe, too? How many be -they?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“He the Yankee,” replies the Indian, the faintest shadow -of a smile flitting across his dusky visage.</p> - -<p>“The Yankee!” repeats the white man, in some surprise. -“He! he! ho! are <em>he</em> with ’em?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; told we stay with ’em all day.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Wait,” interrupts the Indian. “Got more to tell—let -Kidd listen.”</p> - -<p>“Got more to tell!” The scout drops the duck again. -“Out with it, then. What more have ye see’d?”</p> - -<p>“Injuns,” is the calm reply. “Me see band of Injuns—on -war-path—all hab guns—some hab pale-faces’ scalp.”</p> - -<p>“Whar did ye see ’em?”</p> - -<p>The warrior points up the river.</p> - -<p>“Now, mold me into buckshot, ef this ain’t gittin’ interestin’. -D’ye know what tribe the Injuns belong to?”</p> - -<p>“Wyandott.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“De chief, he no Wyandott,” continues the Indian; “he not -red-man, ’tall. He long-knife.”</p> - -<p>“Led by a white man, be they?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—Simon Girty!”</p> - -<p>“Mold me into buckshot!” Kirby Kidd rises to his feet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -with this ejaculation. “Yer don’t mean ter tell me Simon -Girty are the leader o’ the war-party ye’re talkin’ ’bout?”</p> - -<p>“Dat what Wapawah say—Wapawah know Simon Girty -well—see him much time at Sandusky.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Wapawah knows,” affirms the Indian.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>The Indian explains with his fingers, signifying thirty-two.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“No, t’ink not. Hear dem talk—dey say nothing ’bout -long-knives—t’ink dey don’t know where dey be.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“No; dey ’bove de island—heap ’bove it—half mile, guess.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">GAME AND GAME.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, sir, by striking me in this unwarrantable -manner?” he demanded, angrily.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Will I, though?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“See hyur, stranger,” he said, in a low, impressive voice, -“does yer know who an’ what I am?”</p> - -<p>“I only know that you are called Nick Robbins,” replied -McCabe, somewhat taken aback by the hunter’s words and -manner.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span></p> - -<p>“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—”</p> - -<p>“What scheme?” gasped McCabe, in considerable alarm.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Good God! how did you learn this?”</p> - -<p>“How d’ye s’pose?” asked the hunter, with a leer.</p> - -<p>“It’s all a base lie!” vociferated the ruffian. “You don’t -know what you are talking about!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I said so.”</p> - -<p>“Do anybody else suspicion more?”</p> - -<p>“I have never heard of any such suspicion.”</p> - -<p>“Good. Now, younker, look at me clus’. Do I look as -though I mought be disguised?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span></p> - -<p>“<em>Disguised!</em>”</p> - -<p>“Yas.”</p> - -<p>“Why, sir, it never occurred to me that you were.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>am</em> disguised, whether I look -like it or no.”</p> - -<p>Jim McCabe was so astonished that he could not reply, -and, observing this, the hunter continued:</p> - -<p>“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’ <em>Simon Girty</em>!”</p> - -<p>He paused a moment to note the effect of these words upon -his hearer, and then went on:</p> - -<p>“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 <em>I</em> should go to the island I’d stand a better chance -o’ success. They all know me, an’ have faith in every thing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -I say, an’ even Mr. Moreland hisself labors under the belief -ut he an’ I are fast friends.”</p> - -<p>Jim McCabe fell to thinking at this, and the result of his -thinking was a firm belief in all the hunter had said.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You could have no better,” said McCabe, who had already -been thrown into a very good humor by this man.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, sartinly,” was the prompt reply. “I know egzactly -whar the boats are hid. They’re skeercely a dozen feet from -hyur.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Thar they be,” he said; “all safe an’ ready for use.”</p> - -<p>“So I see. Of course you will take one of them on your -mission to the island?”</p> - -<p>“In course! I’ll have to or swim.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The hours dragged slowly by, and at last the sun passed -the zenith, ushering in a sultry afternoon.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -away, and felt a thrill of exultation as he thought how nicely -things were working in his favor! Surely, fortune was smiling -upon him.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well?” he asked, as soon as the boat touched the shore. -“How did you succeed?”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>our’n</em>! 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’!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>McCabe, however, failed to observe this, and flinging his -rifle across his shoulder he started away, whistling gleefully.</p> - -<p>“Stop!” called out the hunter, hesitatingly. “Had—hadn’t -I better go, an’ let you stay hyur?”</p> - -<p>“No,” replied McCabe, cheerfully. “I wish to speak to -Girty about something else, and may as well go myself.”</p> - -<p>And so saying, he resumed his whistling and walked on.</p> - -<p>“By heaven!” exclaimed the hunter, when he was left alone, -and he dropped the butt of his gun upon the ground in a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well, what news?” he asked, with as much calmness as -was just then at his command.</p> - -<p>“News?” said McCabe, in some surprise, “news? Why, -really, sir, what sort of news have you been expecting?”</p> - -<p>“I mean—what did Girty have to say?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE MEETING IN THE WOOD.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The afternoon waned, and the sun went down behind the -gold and crimson clouds that blended their brilliant hues in -the western sky.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“I say, Robbins, shall we stay here until the Indians come, -and join them in their attack on the whites?”</p> - -<p>“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’?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“What! ye ain’t afeard, be yer?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -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?”</p> - -<p>Nick Robbins seemed to meditate. After a while he -asked:</p> - -<p>“Wal, what d’ye perpose to do?”</p> - -<p>“Before answering that question,” said McCabe, “I should -like to know whether you are going to take part in the massacre -or not?”</p> - -<p>“It have been my intention to do so all along, but ef <em>you</em> -don’t <em>I</em> don’t, that’s sartin.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“What then?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Why d’ye want to go so fur down the river as to be opposite -the island?”</p> - -<p>“Only that we may be near the scene of the conflict, where -we shall be able to note its progress and termination.”</p> - -<p>Nick Robbins knit his brows, and seemed to meditate -again. Then, with a slight show of perplexity, he said:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Pooh! it isn’t going to hurt you to tell a lie, if you find -it necessary to offer an excuse for your absence.”</p> - -<p>“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’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -’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?”</p> - -<p>“That suits me very well,” replied McCabe. “But I sincerely -hope you will decide to follow me.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span></p> - -<p>“Result, indeed! Ha! ha! ha! It will be a far different -result from that which <em>he</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The speaker was undoubtedly Jim McCabe!</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“What, rascal! Will you say you have not been following -me? Tell me, then, how came you here?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And why are you going there?”</p> - -<p>“I’m goin’ there to live, yer honor.”</p> - -<p>“To live! Why don’t you stay where you have so long -been living?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t ax me to do that?”</p> - -<p>“Ask, indeed! I <em>command</em> you to do it! Down on your -knees, and swear that you will forever hold your tongue on -this subject.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Swear!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span></p> - -<p>“No—oh, no!”</p> - -<p>“Idiot! do you refuse?”</p> - -<p>“Yis, Jamie, I’ll have to refuse.”</p> - -<p>“Then, by the gods, you shall <em>die</em>! Do you hear? <em>you -shall die!</em> Look at this knife! It shall cut your infernal -heart out, unless you immediately swear secrecy—”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Then you will swear?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Hello! what have we hyur?” exclaimed the hunter, stopping -short and staring, with well-feigned surprise, at the lad.</p> - -<p>McCabe was evidently somewhat flurried by the appearance -of Robbins, but he managed to answer:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Did, hey? What’s he hyur fur?”</p> - -<p>“He’s been searching for me, I presume. He is always -wandering about and getting lost.”</p> - -<p>“’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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> - -<p>“My sentiments, precisely,” laughed McCabe, “and for that -reason I think we had better keep him under our protection, -now he’s here.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Hold on younker,” he said. “It’s the opinion o’ this coon -’ut ye’ll be a deal safer by stayin’ with us.”</p> - -<p>Then, stooping down, he whispered in the lad’s ear:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE ISLAND FIGHT.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>“Isn’t it time for them to make the attack?” said Jim -McCabe, who was all impatience now that the time was drawing -near.</p> - -<p>“No,” replied Robbins; “it hain’t been dark more’n an -hour.”</p> - -<p>“What of that? You know Simon Girty is not the man -to be tardy on occasions like this.”</p> - -<p>“Know that,” replied Robbins, “but neither is he the man -to hurry when success depends on deliberation.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span></p> - -<p>“Very true,” drawled the profligate, musingly, “and yet -my only fear is that they will find the island deserted.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He paused for a reply, but, receiving none, continued:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Still the hunter did not reply, but stood like a statue, gazing -out on the river, his eyes gleaming like coals of fire.</p> - -<p>“Robbins, what time is it?” cried McCabe in a higher key, -determined to make him answer.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>This rebuff had the desired effect. The restless ruffian became -quiet without another word, and for awhile the profoundest -silence reigned over the trio.</p> - -<p>Presently Nick Robbins seized his companion’s arm, and -whispered:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span></p> - -<p>“Hist! Didn’t ye hear that?”</p> - -<p>“What?” asked McCabe, excitedly.</p> - -<p>“Why, a plash in the water out yander,” said Robbins, -pointing. “<em>I</em> heerd it, sure’s shootin’.”</p> - -<p>“So did I,” said Mike Terry, who had sprung to his feet -at the sound.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think so?” asked McCabe, hurriedly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t think nothin’ ’bout it—I <em>know</em> it.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“An’ the Injuns little dream what is in store for <em>them</em>,” -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.”</p> - -<p>“Be the saints! I’m wishin’ there wasn’t goin’ to be any -bloodshed, at all,” said the Irish boy, clasping his hands.</p> - -<p>“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—<em>Good -Lord!</em>”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What does it mean?” gasped McCabe, clutching the hunter’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -shoulder. “Surely, surely, they are not being defeated -by the whites, and yet it sounds more like a defeat than a -victory!”</p> - -<p>“Keep cool,” admonished the backwoodsman, shaking off -the grasp of the excited man; “jest keep cool, an’ I’ll tell yer -what <em>I</em> thinks. The Injuns <em>are</em> 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—”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p> - -<p>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 <em>not</em> 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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Down on yer faces—quick!”</p> - -<p>“Wha—wha—what’s the matter?” stammered McCabe, as -he felt himself going down to the ground without the least -exertion on his part.</p> - -<p>“’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?”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span></p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>This was all that was heard. The next moment Simon -Girty and the Indian had plunged into the woods, and were -gone.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">CAGED!</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Curse it!” hissed McCabe; “every thing is going wrong, -just at the time that I thought success certain!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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, <em>the jig ain’t -up</em>!</p> - -<p>“Do explain yourself,” said McCabe, seeing something in -the hunter’s mind worth drawing out.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span></p> - -<p>There was a brief struggle; and when it was over, Jim McCabe -lay helpless upon the ground, bound hand and foot!</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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 <em>prisoner</em>!</p> - -<p>Nick Robbins stepped out of the crowd, and, looking calmly -down on the prostrate man, said:</p> - -<p>“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 <em>on</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -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.’”</p> - -<p>There was a general laugh at this, and more than one of -the men followed it up with a rude <i lang="fr">jeu d’esprit</i> at the prisoner’s -expense.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yer principles is good, I make no doubt,” replied Kirby -Kidd; “but dog my cats ef I kin feel much pity fur the -skunk.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE CLOCK PEDDLER’S TRANSFORMATION.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>This partially quelled the disturbance. The excited men -moved slowly back, though not without murmurs of disapprobation,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -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—<em>he</em>, a confederate of Simon Girty, and the -murderer of Doctor Trafford—<em>he</em>, who had caused them to -make the awful mistake of hanging an innocent man in his -stead! Indeed, it was enough to infuriate them.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>This was too much for those whose susceptibility of titillation<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“Why don’t he take off his hat and stand on it, so’t we -can all see him?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But all this did not drive Jonathan Boggs from his position. -Raising one hand, he commanded, sternly:</p> - -<p>“Silence! Hold your goll-darned tongues till you know -what you are laughin’ at!”</p> - -<p>Strange to say, these words served the purpose. The noisy -ones immediately became quiet, and taking advantage of the -lull, the clock-vender resumed:</p> - -<p>“Hearken unto me, and weigh well my ejaculations. I appear -before you this morning to deliver a most important address—or -rayther, <em>undress</em>—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 <em>mark the transformation</em>!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>In his place stood—<em>who but Russell Trafford</em>!</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -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!</p> - -<p>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 <em>knew</em> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -blankly at his audience for a moment, and then began to -speak.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In a single instant Nick Robbins had vanished, and <em>Doctor -Trafford stood revealed before the crowd</em>!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -Doctor Trafford, the man who all had supposed was long since -dead, burned alive in his bed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The request answered the purpose. They widened the -space around the doctor, and quiet was once more restored.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span></p> - -<p>“‘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!’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Doctor Trafford smiled.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>This settled that point.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -into the presence of his Maker. Many were loth to wait, -but none would disregard the wishes of the speaker.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! ha!” he screamed, “did you think I would become -an easy victim to the tortures you propose to inflict -upon me? I <em>did</em> set fire to the house of Doctor Trafford, -and it <em>was</em> 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -profound silence ensued. It was broken at length by the -deep, solemn voice of Mr. Moreland, saying:</p> - -<p>“God have mercy on his soul!”</p> - -<p>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! <em>He</em> 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:</p> - -<p>“God bless you, Mike! You have done a noble act, and -proved yourself a true-hearted fellow after all.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <span class="smcap">Phantom Hunter</span>.</p> - -<p class="center">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="DIME_POCKET_NOVELS">DIME POCKET NOVELS.<br /> -<span class="smaller">PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>1</b>—</td> - <td><b>Hawkeye Harry.</b> By Oll Coomes.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>2</b>—</td> - <td><b>Dead Shot.</b> By Albert W. Aiken.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>3</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Boy Miners.</b> By Edward S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>4</b>—</td> - <td><b>Blue Dick.</b> By Capt. Mayne Reid.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>5</b>—</td> - <td><b>Nat Wolfe.</b> By Mrs. M. V. Victor.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>6</b>—</td> - <td><b>The White Tracker.</b> Edward S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>7</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Outlaw’s Wife.</b> Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>8</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Tall Trapper.</b> By Albert W. Aiken.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>9</b>—</td> - <td><b>Lightning Jo.</b> By Capt. Adams.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>10</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Island Pirate.</b> By Capt. Mayne Reid.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>11</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Boy Ranger.</b> By Oll Coomes.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>12</b>—</td> - <td><b>Bess, the Trapper.</b> By E. S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>13</b>—</td> - <td><b>The French Spy.</b> By W. J. Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>14</b>—</td> - <td><b>Long Shot.</b> By Capt. Comstock.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>15</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Gunmaker.</b> By James L. Bowen.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>16</b>—</td> - <td><b>Red Hand.</b> By A. G. Piper.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>17</b>—</td> - <td><b>Ben, the Trapper.</b> By Lewis W. Carson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>18</b>—</td> - <td><b>Wild Raven.</b> By Oll Coomes.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>19</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Specter Chief.</b> By Seelin Robins.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>20</b>—</td> - <td><b>The B’ar-Killer.</b> By Capt. Comstock.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>21</b>—</td> - <td><b>Wild Nat.</b> By Wm. H. Eyster.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>22</b>—</td> - <td><b>Indian Jo.</b> By Lewis W. Carson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>23</b>—</td> - <td><b>Old Kent, the Ranger.</b> Edward S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>24</b>—</td> - <td><b>The One-Eyed Trapper.</b> Capt. Comstock.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>25</b>—</td> - <td><b>Godbold, the Spy.</b> By N. C. Iron.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>26</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Black Ship.</b> By John S. Warner.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>27</b>—</td> - <td><b>Single Eye.</b> By Warren St. John.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>28</b>—</td> - <td><b>Indian Jim.</b> By Edward S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>29</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Scout.</b> By Warren St. John.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>30</b>—</td> - <td><b>Eagle Eye.</b> By W. J. Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>31</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Mystic Canoe.</b> By Edward S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>32</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Golden Harpoon.</b> By R. Starbuck.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>33</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Scalp King.</b> By Lieut. Ned Hunter.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>34</b>—</td> - <td><b>Old Lute.</b> By E. W. Archer.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>35</b>—</td> - <td><b>Rainbolt, Ranger.</b> By Oll Coomes.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>36</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Boy Pioneer.</b> By Edward S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>37</b>—</td> - <td><b>Carson, the Guide.</b> By J. H. Randolph.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>38</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Heart Eater.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>39</b>—</td> - <td><b>Wetzel, the Scout.</b> By Boynton Belknap.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>40</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Huge Hunter.</b> By Ed. S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>41</b>—</td> - <td><b>Wild Nat, the Trapper.</b> Paul Prescott.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>42</b>—</td> - <td><b>Lynx-cap.</b> By Paul Bibbs.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>43</b>—</td> - <td><b>The White Outlaw.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>44</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Dog Trailer.</b> By Frederick Dewey.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>45</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Elk King.</b> By Capt. Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>46</b>—</td> - <td><b>Adrian, the Pilot.</b> By Col. P. Ingraham.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>47</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Man-hunter.</b> By Maro O. Rolfe.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>48</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Phantom Tracker.</b> By F. Dewey.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>49</b>—</td> - <td><b>Moccasin Bill.</b> By Paul Bibbs.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>50</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Wolf Queen.</b> By Charles Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>51</b>—</td> - <td><b>Tom Hawk, the Trailer.</b></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>52</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Mad Chief.</b> By Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>53</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Black Wolf.</b> By Edwin E. Ewing.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>54</b>—</td> - <td><b>Arkansas Jack.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>55</b>—</td> - <td><b>Blackbeard.</b> By Paul Bibbs.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>56</b>—</td> - <td><b>The River Rifles.</b> By Billex Muller.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>57</b>—</td> - <td><b>Hunter Ham.</b> By J. Edgar Iliff.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>58</b>—</td> - <td><b>Cloudwood.</b> By J. M. Merrill.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>59</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Texas Hawks.</b> By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>60</b>—</td> - <td><b>Merciless Mat.</b> By Capt. Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>61</b>—</td> - <td><b>Mad Anthony’s Scouts.</b> By E. Rodman.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>62</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Luckless Trapper.</b> Wm. R. Eyster.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>63</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Florida Scout.</b> Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>64</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Island Trapper.</b> Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>65</b>—</td> - <td><b>Wolf-Cap.</b> By Capt. Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>66</b>—</td> - <td><b>Rattling Dick.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>67</b>—</td> - <td><b>Sharp-Eye.</b> By Major Max Martine.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>68</b>—</td> - <td><b>Iron-Hand.</b> By Frederick Forest.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>69</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Yellow Hunter.</b> By Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>70</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Phantom Rider.</b> By Maro O. Rolfe.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>71</b>—</td> - <td><b>Delaware Tom.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>72</b>—</td> - <td><b>Silver Rifle.</b> By Capt. Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>73</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Skeleton Scout.</b> Maj. L. W. Carson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>74</b>—</td> - <td><b>Little Rifle.</b> By Capt. “Bruin” Adams.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>75</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Wood Witch.</b> By Edwin Emerson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>76</b>—</td> - <td><b>Old Ruff, the Trapper.</b> “Bruin” Adams.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>77</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Scarlet Shoulders.</b> Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>78</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Border Rifleman.</b> L. W. Carson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>79</b>—</td> - <td><b>Outlaw Jack.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>80</b>—</td> - <td><b>Tiger-Tail, the Seminole.</b> R. Ringwood.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>81</b>—</td> - <td><b>Death-Dealer.</b> By Arthur L. Meserve.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>82</b>—</td> - <td><b>Kenton, the Ranger.</b> By Chas. Howard</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>83</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Specter Horseman.</b> Frank Dewey.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>84</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Three Trappers.</b> Seelin Robins.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>85</b>—</td> - <td><b>Kaleolah.</b> By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>86</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Hunter Hercules.</b> Harry St. George.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>87</b>—</td> - <td><b>Phil Hunter.</b> By Capt. Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>88</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Indian Scout.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>89</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Girl Avenger.</b> By Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>90</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Red Hermitess.</b> By Paul Bibbs.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>91</b>—</td> - <td><b>Star-Face, the Slayer.</b></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>92</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Antelope Boy.</b> By Geo. L. Aiken.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>93</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Phantom Hunter.</b> By E. Emerson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>94</b>—</td> - <td><b>Tom Pintle, the Pilot.</b> By M. Klapp.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>95</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Red Wizard.</b> By Ned Hunter.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>96</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Rival Trappers.</b> By L. W. Carson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>97</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Squaw Spy.</b> By Capt. Chas. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>98</b>—</td> - <td><b>Dusky Dick.</b> By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>99</b>—</td> - <td><b>Colonel Crockett.</b> By Chas. E. Lasalle.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>100</b>—</td> - <td><b>Old Bear Paw.</b> By Major Max Martine.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>101</b>—</td> - <td><b>Redlaw.</b> By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>102</b>—</td> - <td><b>Wild Rube.</b> By W. J. Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>103</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Indian Hunters.</b> By J. L. Bowen.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>104</b>—</td> - <td><b>Scarred Eagle.</b> By Andrew Dearborn.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>105</b>—</td> - <td><b>Nick Doyle.</b> By P. Hamilton Myers.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>106</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Indian Spy.</b> By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>107</b>—</td> - <td><b>Job Dean.</b> By Ingoldsby North,</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>108</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Wood King.</b> By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>109</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Scalped Hunter.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>110</b>—</td> - <td><b>Nick, the Scout.</b> By W. J. Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>111</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Texas Tiger.</b> By Edward Willett.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>112</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Crossed Knives.</b> By Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>113</b>—</td> - <td><b>Tiger-Heart, the Tracker.</b> By Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>114</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Masked Avenger.</b> By Ingraham.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>115</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Pearl Pirates.</b> By Starbuck.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>116</b>—</td> - <td><b>Black Panther.</b> By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>117</b>—</td> - <td><b>Abdiel, the Avenger.</b> By Ed. Willett.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>118</b>—</td> - <td><b>Cato, the Creeper.</b> By Fred. Dewey.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>119</b>—</td> - <td><b>Two-Handed Mat.</b> By Jos. E. Badger.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>120</b>—</td> - <td><b>Mad Trail Hunter.</b> By Harry Hazard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>121</b>—</td> - <td><b>Black Nick.</b> By Frederick Whittaker.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>122</b>—</td> - <td><b>Kit Bird.</b> By W. J. Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>123</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Specter Riders.</b> By Geo. Gleason.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>124</b>—</td> - <td><b>Giant Pete.</b> By W. J. Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>125</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Girl Captain.</b> By Jos. E. Badger.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>126</b>—</td> - <td><b>Yankee Eph.</b> By J. R. Worcester.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>127</b>—</td> - <td><b>Silverspur.</b> By Edward Willett.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>128</b>—</td> - <td><b>Squatter Dick.</b> By Jos. E. Badger.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>129</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Child Spy.</b> By George Gleason.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>130</b>—</td> - <td><b>Mink Coat.</b> By Jos. E. Badger.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>131</b>—</td> - <td><b>Red Plume.</b> By J. Stanley Henderson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>132</b>—</td> - <td><b>Clyde, the Trailer.</b> By Maro O. Rolfe.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>133</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Lost Cache.</b> J. Stanley Henderson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>134</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Cannibal Chief.</b> Paul J. Prescott.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>135</b>—</td> - <td><b>Karaibo.</b> By J. Stanley Henderson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>136</b>—</td> - <td><b>Scarlet Moccasin.</b> By Paul Bibbs.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>137</b>—</td> - <td><b>Kidnapped.</b> By J. Stanley Henderson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>138</b>—</td> - <td><b>Maid of the Mountain.</b> By Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>139</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Scioto Scouts.</b> By Ed. Willett.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>140</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Border Renegade.</b> By Badger.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>141</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Mute Chief.</b> By C. D. Clark.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>142</b>—</td> - <td><b>Boone, the Hunter.</b> By Whittaker.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>143</b>—</td> - <td><b>Mountain Kate.</b> By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>144</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Red Scalper.</b> By W. J. Hamilton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>145</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Lone Chief.</b> By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>146</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Silver Bugle.</b> Lieut. Col. Hazleton.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>147</b>—</td> - <td><b>Chinga, the Cheyenne.</b> By E. S. Ellis.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>148</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Tangled Trail.</b> By Major Martine.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>149</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Unseen Hand.</b> By J. S. Henderson.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>150</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Lone Indian.</b> By Capt. C. Howard.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>151</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Branded Brave.</b> By Paul Bibbs.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>152</b>—</td> - <td><b>Billy Bowlegs, The Seminole Chief.</b></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>153</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Valley Scout.</b> By Seelin Robins.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>154</b>—</td> - <td><b>Red Jacket.</b> By Paul Bibbs.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>155</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Jungle Scout.</b> Ready</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>156</b>—</td> - <td><b>Cherokee Chief.</b> Ready</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>157</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Bandit Hermit.</b> Ready</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>158</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Patriot Scouts.</b> Ready</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>159</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Wood Rangers.</b></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>160</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Red Foe.</b> Ready</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>161</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Beautiful Unknown.</b></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>162</b>—</td> - <td><b>Canebrake Mose.</b> Ready</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>163</b>—</td> - <td><b>Hank, the Guide.</b> Ready</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>164</b>—</td> - <td><b>The Border Scout.</b> Ready</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p class="center">BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHANTOM HUNTER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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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