The Wilderness Fugitives
by Edward S. Ellis
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"Is the interior comfortable?"

"It is in warm weather, for none of the sun's rays can enter, and the stones seem to give it coolness."

"As dark as a wolf's mouth, I suppose?"

"Not at all. There are several windows, made by crevices between the stones, which let in enough light to help us see where we are."

"The young lady speaks the truth," said Worrell. "She has been in and remembers all about it."

"How came you to find it when it is so well concealed?"

"I was hunting a bear in these mountains some two years ago and wounded him, when he started to retreat. I followed him as fast as I could, when he put straight for this heap of stones, and he would have got away if I hadn't come in sight just in time to see him pull that door aside with one paw and start in. I gave him a shot as he was doing so, and it finished him before he could get out of my reach."

The reports of the cavern being so favorable, the fugitives were glad to avail themselves of its shelter without further delay. Ned Clinton was the first to explore the retreat, he being obliged to assume a stooping position to enter it. As soon as he was inside, he called to the others to follow, and Worrell himself obeyed, Jo going next, while Rosa came last.

The place was not a disappointment in the least when viewed from the inside. The windows of which Rosa spoke proved sufficient to give all the light they could ask, and more than the young scouts expected to see. Besides, when they were fairly within it was noticed that the roof ascended, while the floor was lowered to that extent that they could easily stand at their full height—a luxury which any one in their situation would have appreciated. It was dry, and there was nothing to make them uncomfortable. Expressions of delight came from all, excepting him who had taken them to the retreat. He seemed to enjoy listening to the praise bestowed upon his choice.

"Ah! if some of the poor fellows who were fleeing from Monacacy and the woods, after the battle," said Ned, "could have stumbled upon this they would have been safe."

"And even if they had been seen," added Jo, "they could have turned it into a fort itself, and held out against ten times their number."

"Then why can we not make the same use of it?" asked Rosa. "It will serve us if Colonel Butler happens to discover where we are hid."

"He isn't going to discover us," put in Worrell, with a confidence which gave the youths greater faith in their safety than before; but which, strange to say, impressed Rosa in the opposite manner.

It was the manner rather than the words that grated on her sensibilities, and she found her old mistrust of the man deeper than before. It struck her that he was too ready to declare they were now beyond the reach of Colonel Butler and his men. It was like parrying a blow before it was struck, though the young men readily saw in the words which called out the remark sufficient cause for the same. With this suspicion came a conviction that, despite the critical position in which they seemed to be placed, when awaiting the return of the Mohawk, they had committed a perilous blunder in leaving the spot where he would expect to find them.

"I said there was no danger of our being discovered by Colonel Butler or any of his men; but maybe that was putting it too strong, for I suppose that we are always in danger as long as them redskins are within a dozen miles of us; but what I meant to say was, that there ain't any spot anywhere among these mountains where you can feel safer from the enemy than here."

This is what he ought to have said in the first place, as it seemed to Rosa, and yet the after effect of the words was almost as if they had been uttered at the right time. A strange compound is that which goes to make up the emotions of man and woman; for with the expression just given, Rosa Minturn experienced something like a revulsion of feeling, and reproved herself that she should have suspected the man at all. She saw in him nothing but a simple-minded hunter-settler, who was a fugitive for the time being like themselves, and was anxious to befriend them to the best of his ability. The most circumspect and devoted ally would have acted as he did. Because he was dressed in rather shabby attire, and was unattractive in person, should she doubt his loyalty? Had she not lived long enough to learn that "the rank is but a guinea's stamp," and that, though repulsive without, he might be "a man for a' that?"



In the twilight of the underground apartment, the figures of each were dimly discernible, but there was abundance of room for all to circulate without interfering with each other. Ned conducted the girl to the furthest extremity of the cavern, where it would seem that the couches of the ancient occupants had been placed.

"You are wearied and tired," said he, in a tender voice. "Let me beg you to use your chance while it is here. Recline in the corner and Jo and I will keep watch."

"But you and he need rest as well as I!" she protested. "Why not seek it now?"

"Perhaps we may. I will talk to him, but don't think of us. Here seems to be some sort of blanket."

At this moment Worrell called out:

"You'll find a blanket near where you are standing. I left it a few weeks ago when I was hunting in these parts."

Everything seemed to be as they wished, and Rosa accepted the invitation, which was emphasized by her own sense of its need. She sat down on the blanket, with her head resting against a large stone behind her, just as she had sat many a time in the old armchair at home, and she had scarcely assumed the position when she sank into slumber.

"Well, now you are here," said Worrell, as Ned Clinton came back from where Rosa was reclining, "how do you mean to pass the time?"

"Jo and I, here, are half dead for sleep, and if we can put in a couple of hours or so, it will make new fellows of us."

"What's to hinder? Why don't you lay down and sleep all you want to?"

"It looks like running great risk for all three of us to commit ourselves to slumber when the Indians might steal in and nab every one of us."

Worrell laughed.

"I never seen anybody so backward about asking a favor as you. If I hadn't pumped that out of you, you two would have sat here winking, and blinking, and nodding for hours, just 'cause you had a notion in your heads that there was some danger in going to sleep."

"We may take turns about it," said Jo. "But we could not consent that all of us should be unconscious at the same time."

Again the fellow laughed, as though it was all a capital joke.

"I put in ten, good, solid hours of slumber here last night, and I can't do any more of it before midnight, if I was to be paid a thousand pounds for it."

"And you are willing to stay here a couple of hours while we sleep?"

"Nothing will give me greater pleasure."

"I don't know how we shall ever pay you for your kindness."

"By never saying nothing about it. Come, we're losing too much time; you'll get no sleep at all if you never stop talking. Lay down at once, for I ca'c'late you ain't partic'lar about having a straw bed, nor very soft pillers."

Again expressing their gratitude to the man for his repeated kindness, Ned and Jo stretched themselves upon the flinty floor, and quickly glided into the land of dreams. Slumber, indeed, they all needed, for the most athletic and hardened frame, the toughest and most enduring system, must have time in which to recuperate the exhausted energies. Five minutes from the time Ned Clinton spoke the last words to the settler, the latter was the only one within the cavern who possessed his senses. In the far corner scarcely visible in the dim light of the place, reclined the lovely Rosa, and nearer, in full view, were stretched the forms of her two friends—all handsome and attractive, but as helpless as so many babes.

For a brief while after the slumber of the whites had come upon them, Worrell, the straggling farmer, sat near the entrance of the cavern, the stone which served as a door being partly drawn aside, so that a flood of light made its way through, and fell directly on his countenance. It was a curious scene—the three unconscious forms, while the fourth was wider awake than ever. He was sitting at the very entrance, the light which streamed in striking him in such a way that all was in shadow excepting his hat, shoulders, and face. The slouched head-gear was thrown back, showing a low forehead, while the hair that lay in matted and spiked masses on and around his crown was of a grizzled brown color—that which dangled from beneath his hat when he met the young scouts being of as fiery a red as were the whiskers themselves.

So curious an exhibition proved that it was never done by the hand of nature! The whiskers themselves looked genuine, until a movement of the hand caused a displacement, such as could not have taken place, had they been attached to the face by a natural growth.

The man muttered impatiently, glanced toward the sleeping forms of the youths, and drew back into the shadow until he could set all right again. Then, satisfied that they were in too deep slumber to notice his actions, he leaned forward, throwing his head and shoulders into the sunlight as before. And why sat he there so close to the opening of the cavern? Was it that he might the better hear the sound of danger when it came that way? Was it that he meant that his ward and watch should be as faithful as if it were his own loved ones whom he was guarding against the approach of wolves or ravening beasts? It might be all this—it might be otherwise.

A few more minutes passed, and he turned and looked toward the young men with a piercing, penetrating glance, as if something aroused his suspicion. He did not stir as he pronounced the name of Ned Clinton in quite a loud voice, repeating it several times, and doing the same in the case of Jo Minturn. The slumber of both was too deep to be disturbed by such trivial causes, and he received no answer.

"I don't believe they're playing possum," he muttered to himself, staring distrustfully toward them. "But it won't do to make any blunder right here."

To prevent any error, he rose softly and walked to where they were sleeping. Brief listening told him that their regular breathing was not feigned, but he leaned over and shook each in turn by the shoulder, pronouncing their names in louder tones than before. The slumber continued undisturbed. A muttered exclamation escaped the man again, one expressive of pleasure at the discovery.

"They'll sleep till to-morrow morning if nobody comes along to wake 'em up. The trouble is with that deuced Mohawk, who has a way of turning up just when he isn't wanted. But I don't think he'll get a chance to put his finger in this pie."

He looked over in the gloom toward the corner where he could catch the outlines of the head of Rosa Minturn, as it rested against a large stone. Then he appeared to be of the opinion that the time had come for action of some kind. He moved to the cavern door but did not stay there; with scarcely a pause, he stooped down and speedily placed himself on the outside of the mountain retreat.



As soon as Worrell found himself on the outside of the cavern, he walked rapidly for a hundred yards or so, taking a direction at right angles to that which he followed when conducting the fugitives to the retreat. His gait became almost a run until he reached an elevation, when he paused, as if to make a survey of a portion of the country spread out below him.

"The sun is almost overhead," he muttered, as he looked up to the sky with an impatient expression, "and I am all of an hour behind time, but this is one of them things that can't be fixed just as you want it, and I don't see why it should make any difference."

He was gazing at the section which lay spread out at his feet, and was between him and the Susquehanna. His eyes first roved in a quick, restless way over the broad stretch of woods and clearings, as if seeking for some object upon which to rest. At the end of a few minutes, his gaze became fixed upon a place where stood a small house in the middle of a clearing. It evidently belonged to one of the settlers in the Wyoming valley, who had been smitten with the panic which drove so many from their homes, and had fled without taking any of his stock with him, or destroying his property to prevent it falling into the hands of the enemy.

The manner of Worrell showed that he awaited some person or signal in connection with this house, but he was disappointed. The tomb itself could not have been more deserted and desolate, and he gazed until sure there was nothing on or about it which was intended for his eye.

"That's the way it always is," he muttered. "I have got everything fixed just as I promised, and now they turn up missing at the very time they ought to be on hand. I suppose I've got to hunt 'em up, and that may take me till dark, by which time that Mohawk will put in his oar."

He spent a few more minutes searching for something which did not appear. Then he advanced to a small tree that grew on the edge of the open space where he had halted, and drawing a large red handkerchief from his pocket, bent down a small sapling and tied the silk to it. As the little tree flew back to its upright position, there was enough breeze to make the signal rise and float in the wind. The man stood off a few paces, and watched it.

"I can't improve on that," he said to himself. "If they will only look this way, they can't help seeing it, and it will tell the story; but the trouble is, there is no knowing when they will take the trouble to look this way. Faugh! why didn't they leave the whole thing to me? It would have been ended by this time, and there would have been no after-clap, but this waiting and bother is what will upset the whole arrangement unless they come up to time better than they are likely to do."

Impatient as he was, he was obliged to content himself, while he kept an unremitting watch on the house and its surroundings, occasionally giving vent to his feelings by a series of expletives. In fact, Worrell, who now showed himself to himself, as it may be said, was altogether a less prepossessing character than the one who had so kindly conducted the fugitives to the hiding-place in the woods, and bidden them sleep while he watched over their slumbers. Suddenly he started. He had discerned something for which he was waiting. Moving to the edge of the open space, he gazed with the keenness of one whose life depended upon making no mistake as to what he saw. The house which engaged so much of his attention was a quarter of a mile distant. The wonder was how he distinguished anything so far off with enough certainty to determine its character; but he had done so.

"Better late than never," he muttered; "though it looked awhile ago as if it was to be never. Yes," he added, a moment after, "they are there, and it won't take them long to find out that I am here."

So it proved; for, in a few minutes there was an answering signal waving from an upper window of the house in the form of a handkerchief of a white color, swung by the hand of a man instead of the wind, as in the former case.

"I don't know as there's any use of my waiting any longer," he growled, "for I don't s'pose they'll come to me, and I may as well go to them, for there is no telling where that infernal Mohawk is. I wouldn't meet him for all the Colonel Butlers that ever breathed. He is the devil himself, and I prefer to keep out of his path."

Impressed with the value of time, the man gripped the sapling and swung it violently, so as to make the red handkerchief wave in the breeze. Then he started down the mountain, taking a direction which led him straight toward the house in which he had shown so much interest from the first. All the way was down-hill, and Worrell walked like one accustomed to the woods, making such good time that at the end of ten minutes he was with the parties whom he was anxious to see and meet. Who were they?

Six Indians, under the charge of Captain Bagley, who has already been introduced to our readers.

A glance at the painted warriors showed they were Iroquois, who were following so vigilantly the fugitives that had managed to elude them thus far. Bagley emerged from the house and shook hands with Worrell, the two at once entering into a hurried conversation, while the Indians, in accordance with their nature, stood apart, saying nothing to each other, but satisfied to wait till the time should come for them to act in obedience to the orders of their leader. Something was wrong, for Bagley and Worrell continued talking a long time, each earnest and abounding with gesture. As might be supposed, it was Lena-Wingo, the Mohawk, that had caused the trouble. Several of the warriors had seen him in another direction, and an encounter of some kind had taken place between the celebrated scout and the Iroquois, with the result that Colonel Butler had now two less men than before.

Captain Bagley was of the opinion that the half dozen with him were insufficient to enter the cave and secure the fugitives sleeping there. He wanted about as many more before making the attempt. Worrell insisted there should be no delay. The three were in sound slumber, and all they had to do was to enter the cavern, take possession of their arms, and then the trio themselves. Captain Bagley's objection to this was that because of the time that had elapsed, they would not be found asleep when his men arrived there.

Furthermore, from what his informant told him, he was confident the Mohawk would reach the cavern ahead of them, in which event it would be vain to attack them with only six Indians and two white men, even though these eight were among the bravest soldiers that had entered the Wyoming valley. It was folly, in his opinion, to try such a task without a force that would insure success from the first. Worrell, however, was as vehement for an immediate advance, insisting that all that was needed was promptness. A liberal reward had been promised him, and would assuredly be his if his plan was carried to a successful completion. At last, his importunity prevailed when he promised to be the first one to enter the cavern, and the start was made.



Worrell, the traitor, had been gone nearly an hour from the cavern in which the three fugitives were sleeping, when Rosa Minturn awoke, no doubt because she was not so much in need of sleep as the others, and held a lingering suspicion of the loyalty of the man who had brought them to the retreat. This distrust went to sleep with her, but it is a peculiarity of the mind that the emotions which have been with us through our waking hours frequently remain with us when we are wrapped in slumber. It is as if the innumerable train that is forever wending its way through the mysterious labyrinths of the brain repeats the procession, and those which affected us the most strongly when in command of our senses often do the same when we are unconscious. But without stopping to consider the question, suffice it to say that at the time mentioned Rosa opened her eyes in full possession of her faculties, and with the impression that the man Worrell was an enemy instead of a friend.

She did not move at first, supposing he was still within the cavern; but, as she peered cautiously around the dimly lighted space, she saw only the forms of her two sleeping friends. The fact at once deepened the suspicion, and caused her great distress of mind, for all doubt of the hostility of the man was removed upon making the discovery. Still she supposed it possible that he was close at hand, and waited several minutes to see whether he reappeared; but her condition of mind was such that every second of delay caused her increasing uneasiness.

"I am sure he has gone to tell Colonel Butler and the Indians where we are," she said to herself, as she rose and walked to where her brother was asleep.

Stooping over, she shook him by the shoulder until he opened his eyes and, recognizing her, asked what the matter was.

"That man has gone."

"Where has he gone?"

"To tell the Indians we are here!"

Jo sprang to his feet.

"What are you talking about, Rosa? What do you mean?"

"Just as I say; he has gone to bring the Indians, and will soon be back, too."

"How do you know that?"

"Don't ask me, but I know what I say."

This was alarming news, and though Jo suspected his sister based all upon her dislike of the man, without positive knowledge of the facts, yet he was impressed with the belief that she had good cause for her words.

"He may be on the outside, keeping watch," said the youth, after they had talked over the matter. "Wait till I take a look. If he can't be found, we'll awake Ned."

Jo crept out of the cavern dreading a hostile shot as he did so, and made as thorough an examination of the surroundings as was possible. He saw nothing of the man whom they missed, that individual at that moment being a quarter of a mile or more away, holding his vehement argument with Captain Bagley about the advance with the six Iroquois upon the sleeping fugitives. His invisibility confirmed the young man in his misgivings as to the treachery of the man.

"I have no doubt Rosa is right," he muttered, as he walked thoughtfully back toward the cavern. "She was always quick to detect anything like that, and it is strange that neither Ned nor I had any such thought. The only thing that troubled us was whether we could convince Lena-Wingo we did right in leaving the place where he left us. The thought never entered our heads that there was anything of this kind in the wind."

He had reached the mouth of the cavern again, where his sister was anxiously waiting him.

"Did you find anything of him?"

"No," he answered, with a shake of the head. "I believe you are right; the man has gone off somewhere after his promise to keep watch over us while we slept; that's enough for me. Is Ned awake?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"He must be aroused at once, for it will not do to stay here after what has taken place."

Jo passed inside and awakened his friend, without pausing to be very gentle as to the means. It took but a minute to make plain the trouble. He became as alert and suspicious as they on the instant.

"There!" he exclaimed; "I had a suspicion when he came under the tree that I had seen him somewhere."

"So had I, but I couldn't recall where and when it was."

"Don't you remember when the battle was going on the other day, we saw one man among the Tories who was tomahawking the whites as savagely as any of them?"

"Yes, I remember him well, but he didn't look like this fellow!"

"Not a great deal, that's true, but I believe it was he for all that."

Jo was silent for a moment, as if in deep thought.

"There was something about him that reminds me of this fellow, though one had whiskers and the other had not, and it is hard to tell just how they resemble each other."

The youths were more anxious to take themselves and Rosa away from the cavern than they were to discuss the question, upon which they agreed quite well. Hastily picking up their rifles, they passed outside. When they found themselves within the shelter of the wood again, and beyond the vision of any one who might approach the retreat, the relief was inexpressible.

"We agree that the counsel of Rosa was wise," said Ned Clinton, as they came to a halt, "but you see how it may be possible she was mistaken. Now it won't do to go wandering too far from the place, for when the Mohawk comes back and finds us gone he may not hunt for us."

"Why not, then, go back over the same route that we followed in coming here?" asked Jo.

"That is what I would like to do, if it wasn't for the danger; it seems to me that that is the path which Worrell will take when he starts for the cavern again with his Indians, and we don't want to meet him face to face, for we can do that by waiting in the cavern."

"I have it!" exclaimed Ned. "I will take the back trail alone, on the lookout for the Mohawk and for the white man, too. What do you say?"

"And shall Rosa and I wait here till you come back?"

"That will be the safer plan, unless another Worrell comes along and takes you away to a new cavern or hiding-place."

"We will be as safe here as anywhere," said Rosa, believing that her opinion would have some weight in the matter.

"I suspect she is right," assented her brother. "If the Iroquois come to the cavern and find we have left, they will think we have got as far away as we can, and they won't be apt to look for us so close at hand; and then, too, these stones over which we have traveled haven't left any trail for them to follow."

"Which shows why you shouldn't go hunting for some other location, unless the Indians happen to come so close that you can't help it, for it will be impossible for me to hunt you up."

This was simple truth, and Jo promised that nothing should be done to increase the difficulty of their speedy reunion, whenever his friend should want to find him and Rosa again. The day was passing and it seemed that they were trifling away the time which was so valuable to all the fugitives. There was something, too, in the continued absence of their guide, Lena-Wingo, that caused them uneasiness. They recalled that he had promised a speedy return, and it was rarely that the Mohawk made them a promise which was not fulfilled in spirit and letter.



Ned and Jo had said nothing to each other about the continued absence of the Mohawk, for whatever they might utter would necessarily be conjecture, and would only excite the alarm of Rosa without accomplishing any good. But it was in the thoughts of both, and when Ned bade the two good-bye for a season, it occupied more of his speculations than did the movements of the man who had played them false.

"One can never lose faith in Lena-Wingo, and yet the pitcher may go to the fountain once too often," he mused, as he picked his way with the greatest care. "And that great scout is likely to fall at any time. A single rifle ball may do it, and he cannot tell whether there is not more than one of his own race in hiding, waiting patiently till he shall come that way and receive his death. He has escaped so often that he must become careless of his own safety, and will pay the penalty one of these days."

Ned had fixed the route so clearly in his own mind that he found no difficulty in retracing the steps taken when he was following the leadership of Worrell. He was apprehensive that he would meet him on his return, probably with a number of Indians. He therefore picked his way with all the care and stealth of which he was master. He imitated the actions of Lena-Wingo under similar circumstances. Frequently pausing and listening for sounds of his enemies, he used his eyes as keenly as he could for the detection of the first sign of approaching danger. This kind of progress was not of the most rapid order, but it was the wisest that could have been adopted, and he continued it for half an hour. At the end of that time, he reached the base of the tree from the branches of which he fired the shot that brought Worrell from behind the rock.

"Here is where we met him," he said to himself, "and I have a feeling that he isn't very far away now. What a wise girl Rosa is!" he added, with a blush, as if fearful she had heard the complimentary words. "She mistrusted that villain from the first, and gave us the alarm just in time to save ourselves."

Having reached the spot for which he set out, the question with the youth was whether he should stay where he was or go further. He had seen nothing of Lena-Wingo and Worrell—a disappointment in both cases, though of a different nature.

"I can't see why the Indian stays away so long, unless something unusual has happened. He must know how much we are alarmed over his absence, and he would be back if it were possible."

Waiting a short time, he concluded to advance a little farther, so as to meet either of the two men if they were approaching, while at a greater distance from the cavern, though he was not unmindful that he was liable to miss them altogether. However, he had gone less than a hundred yards when he detected the signs of some one coming immediately in front. It was his ear which heard a crackling of a twig, so close that he had barely time to leap aside and conceal himself from view when the figure of Worrell, closely followed by Captain Bagley, came up a sort of path toward the open space from which Ned had fled in such haste. The youth barely caught sight of them when the forms of six Iroquois appeared, one by one, immediately in the rear of the two white men.

When Ned saw the latter, he was much concerned, fearing that they would detect the slight trail he must have left in his hurry for cover. But it was too late to make any further flight, as he would be discovered from the noise, if not by the sight.

From his concealment he watched the party, their manner of marching being peculiar, as the eight walked in Indian file. Worrell, being the guide, took the lead. Bagley kept so close that they could hold a conversation in low tones, while the Iroquois stalked along like so many phantoms of the wood.

If Ned was alarmed at sight of the redmen, knowing their skill in detecting and following a trail of an enemy, he was thrown into a cold perspiration of dread when the whole party halted in the open space from which he had bounded when he heard the crackling twig. The clear space covered something like an eighth of an acre, and Clinton was too disturbed to notice that the particular spot where the group was gathered was so far removed from his footprints that there was really little danger of their being noticed. But when they had stood awhile, and the two white men began a conversation, he noticed the gratifying fact and became composed enough to listen to the words that passed between Captain Bagley and Worrell.

"You may say what you please," said the former, "but there is more risk in this business than I want to assume. You are so anxious to get the reward promised by Colonel Butler that you can't see the difficulties in the way."

"If there were any difficulties I would see them, but they ain't there. Where's the difficulty in eight armed men taking possession of two who are asleep, and a woman who is also unconscious?"

"None, of course, when you put it in that way; but the Mohawk is somewhere about, and, as I told you a while ago, he has a way of turning up just when you don't want to see him."

"These Iroquois say they want to meet him, and if he is there, they'll have the chance."

"But I ain't anxious to meet him, and if he is about, as I feel in my bones he is, there'll be the mischief to pay."

Worrell uttered an imprecation. He had been obliged to keep up an argument with the captain ever since they started from the house with the Indians—even before; and now the man had halted again, more loth than ever to proceed. It was plain that he held the Mohawk in great fear.

"Where is this cave in which you say the party are asleep?" he asked, in reply to the explanation of the guide.

"You have only to go a little way further with me and you'll see it," replied Worrell, who was evidently unwilling that any one should share so valuable a secret with him.

"Colonel Butler has all of twenty of the best Iroquois with him, and the wisest thing for us is to go to his camp, tell him how the case stands, and get him to let us have eight or ten more; then we can come back and lay regular siege to the place. Then we shall be sure of catching them sooner or later."

"Yes, at the end of a month or so, and it won't do for Butler to stay much longer in the valley. He knows it, and will leave in a day or two."

"But why speak of waiting a month before they can be taken, when thirst and starvation will bring them to terms in a couple of days at the most?"

"It will, eh?" said Worrell, contemptuously. "There is a spring of water in one corner of the cavern, and they have enough provisions stored there to last all of a month."

"How came the provisions in that place?"

"I took them there myself, for I have used the cave many a time."

This was a falsehood, so far as the water and food were concerned, the cavern containing nothing of the kind.

"Do not any of these Iroquois know where the place is?"

"Of course not, and there is no danger of the Mohawk finding it under two or three days' hunt."

"You needn't tell me such stuff as that," said Captain Bagley. "There's nothing that you can hide from him."

"This is a pretty crowd that is afraid to go forward because there happens to be a single Indian somewhere in the woods. If you want to stay behind, let me have the warriors, and I will take them to the spot, and deliver the three into the hands of Colonel Butler inside of an hour. What do you say to that?"

"You are so determined, you may lead on, and we'll follow."

"Well, let's do it, then, without any more—"

At that instant, the crack of a rifle broke the stillness, and the man Worrell threw up his hand and fell forward on his face, dead!



The amazement of Ned Clinton was no greater than that of Captain Bagley and the Indians over the sudden death of Worrell. For one moment the comrades of the deceased stood transfixed, staring at the inanimate form stretched on the ground before them. Then the Iroquois gave out their war whoop, and sprang to the cover of the nearest undergrowth. This brought them much nearer the youth than was pleasant. The thought struck him that these warriors would believe the one who fired the fatal shot was near by, and begin a search which must result in revealing Clinton himself. The precautionary action of the redmen served to recall Captain Bagley to his own situation, and he raised his gaze from the prostrate figure, and looked affrightedly around him.

"It was that Mohawk who fired that shot!" he exclaimed, making a hurried rush for the same cover that was sheltering the half dozen Iroquois.

As fate would have it, he crouched down in the undergrowth so close to Ned Clinton that the latter believed discovery was inevitable. He was well hidden, however, and flattened out until it seemed he must force himself into the ground, while he feared if the Tory escaped seeing him, he would learn of his presence from the throbbing of his heart. But there was one thing in favor of the youth. The shot—by whomsoever fired—had come from exactly the opposite direction, a fact which was perceptible to the Iroquois themselves even if unnoticed by the young man at the time.

Perfect stillness succeeded the report, and when some ten minutes passed, the warriors appeared to suspect their inaction would permit the daring Mohawk to escape, when there was a chance to secure his scalp. At the end of the time mentioned, Ned, from his concealment, caught a glimpse of two warriors stealing along the edge of the open space. Their backs were toward him, thus showing they were pursuing an opposite direction in quest of the one who had slain their leader. Shortly after he detected others, and last of all went Captain Bagley himself, he having changed from a leader to a follower. Thus in a brief time Ned found himself alone, with no one in sight excepting the inanimate form, now stark and stiff, telling its impressive story of a miscreant cut down in the middle of his wicked career.

"I wonder whether it was Lena-Wingo who did that," mused the youth, raising his head and peering through the undergrowth at the form. "Captain Bagley believed so, and I guess he was right, for I can't think of any one else who would do it."

After what had taken place, Ned was in doubt as to what his own course should be. From the conversation which he overheard between Worrell and Bagley, he knew that none of the survivors was aware of the location of the cavern, so that the fugitives might stay within it in safety. The youth concluded he had seen enough to carry back to his friends. He, therefore, cautiously retreated from the hiding-place, not wishing to encounter any of the Indians, who could be at no great distance, and desirous, too, of avoiding another sight of the dead man. It took but a short time to reach the tree, where he had first seen the one who had attempted to betray them, and who had come near succeeding, too, in the effort.

"I don't know that anything is to be gained by staying here, and I will go back to where I left Jo and Rosa, and tell them they may take refuge in the cavern without any danger or disturb—"

At that instant he heard a stealthy movement behind him, and he was in dread of a collision with some of the Iroquois, who seemed to be almost everywhere in the forest and on the mountain. As he wheeled about, there was the redman, painted and with gun in his grasp; but it was the redman whom, of all others, he was anxious to see, being no other than Lena-Wingo, the scout.

"Thank the Lord!" was the fervent exclamation of the youth, as he rushed toward the Mohawk and caught his hand. "Where have you been so long?"

Lena-Wingo took the proffered hand and shook it warmly, for he held the youth in the highest estimation, as he had shown on more than one occasion. At the same time, he put on his usual broad grin, and replied, in his broken way:

"Lena-Wingo been watching you. Seen you hide in bushes when Iroquois come, and he watch."

"That was you, then, who picked off Worrell?"

"Who Worrell?" demanded the Mohawk, sharply.

"Why, that chap that was shot while talking to Captain Bagley."

"His name not Worrell," said Lena-Wingo. "He Dick Evans."

"No!" gasped Ned, in return.

"That he—Lena-Wingo look good while for him—found him—shoot him—won't kill any more women and babies."

And who was Dick Evans, that the mention of his name should cause so much emotion on the part of those who heard it pronounced? He was one of the most infamous wretches produced by the Revolutionary war. He had been heard of in Wyoming valley for years before the invasion of the Tories and Indians, and was looked upon as an outlaw who was compelled to live in the woods to escape the penalty of his innumerable crimes against civilization. There was no deed too dark for him to perpetrate. When the Revolution broke out he turned against the land that gave him birth, and committed atrocities that no other Tory or Indian had exceeded. It was well known that he had slain women and children in more than one instance, and when he held the power no one expected mercy at his hands. He was one of the most wicked of beings and more than deserved the death which came to him with the bullet aimed and fired by the Mohawk.

The latter had declared to more than one person that he would shoot him like a dog at the first opportunity. With the defiant nature of his race, he sent the man himself word by a Seneca Indian that he was looking for him, and intended to keep it up until able to draw a bead on him. Evans sent word back in reply, that he was also looking for the Mohawk, and dared him to shoot him if he could. The only palliating characteristic of the despicable wretch was his bravery, and he really did do his utmost to gain a shot at the Indian who had threatened him. But he engaged in a game in which his antagonist was his superior, and had paid the penalty.

The body was left where it fell, for another of the peculiarities of Lena-Wingo was that, for a number of years, he had refused to take the scalp of his fallen foe. At the time the Mohawk shot Evans, he suspected he was leading the party in search of the fugitives in the mountain; but the scout was so far removed from the two men while they were talking, that he failed to gain the import of their words. He therefore knew nothing of the scheme which had been so skillfully laid for entrapping the three whites. When Ned came to tell him the story, the Indian was astonished. He had not dreamt of any such thing, for he supposed that his friends would await him where he told them to stay and not suffer themselves to be persuaded to disobey him. He showed that he was displeased, but he said little, and the feeling was not deep. Ned Clinton generously assumed all the blame himself, and, like the lightning-rod, it did not take him long to draw the lightning from the wrathful cloud, so that all became serene again.



When Ned had told Lena-Wingo all, and succeeded in restoring him to good humor, he attempted to draw from the Indian an idea of what he had been doing since he left them. But the youth did not gain much satisfactory information. The interview lasted but a short time, when Lena-Wingo proposed that they should return to their friends, who must be quite anxious over their continued absence. He added, also, that they could not but be hungry—a want which he took particular pains to satisfy. On the way to where the brother and sister had been left, the Mohawk turned off to the right, and drew from beneath a fallen tree two goodly-sized loaves of bread and fully ten pounds of well-cooked meat.

"Where in the name of the seven wonders did you get that?" asked Ned.

"Lena-Wingo make bread and cook meat," grinned the redskin.

"Come, now, that won't do," laughed his young friend. "You might have cooked a piece of meat, but you never baked a loaf of bread in your life. You have been making a call upon some of the folks in the valley."

"No—not that—Tory call on settler—Tory make bread—then go to sleep—then Lena-Wingo call on Tory—go 'way—take bread."

That told the whole story. The Mohawk had made a raid upon some of the thieves in the valley who had robbed some of the patriots only to be spoiled in turn. Such being the fact, the food could not but taste all the better to the fugitives, who were in sore need of nourishment.

The fact that several Iroquois were on the hunt for Lena-Wingo appeared to cause that individual no concern. He walked forward as unconcernedly as if there were no such things as war and hostile men of his own race. He agreed with Ned that it was safe to occupy the cavern while they were compelled to hide, and until he could complete his arrangements for guiding Rosa into Wilkesbarre. It was prudent to keep her out of their sight while the Tories and Indians were making diligent search for her, and the way was not clear to run the gauntlet. The Iroquois being new-comers, it was hardly possible that any of them knew the location of the cave which had been occupied by the whites.

The conversation which Ned overheard between Bagley and Evans confirmed this supposition.

As they journeyed, Lena-Wingo gradually divulged what he had been at during the afternoon, and why it was he had been absent so much longer than he intended. The scout had been into Wilkesbarre!

Before attempting to conduct Rosa thither he wished to reconnoitre the ground, and was more successful than he expected. Stealing up close to the rude fortifications, he managed to make himself recognized, and secured admission without any of his enemies suspecting the daring act. Had he been accompanied by Rosa at this time, he could have conducted her safely within; but he established an understanding with the inmates, so as to feel sure that when the time came to make the effort, he would run no risk of being injured by his friends, or of having his entrance dangerously delayed when he should claim admittance. In leaving the town, the Mohawk was observed by several Iroquois, and became engaged with them, but escaped with his usual good fortune.

Lena-Wingo had no more than finished his narration when the cavern was reached, and they paused a moment or two to examine it. The Mohawk entered, and as he came back reported that it was as when he last saw it, adding that no place existed in the neighborhood which would serve as well for a real hiding-place for the young lady while her friends were preparing for the entry into Wilkesbarre. Taking this as his starting point again, Ned Clinton had no difficulty in finding the spot where he had bid good-bye to Jo and his sister. By the time the place was fairly identified, the two came forward and greeted him and the Mohawk.

The meeting was pleasant to all, for there was something in the presence of the famous and skillful scout that filled the three with confidence and hope. When he revealed the provisions he brought, there was some merriment, increased by the narration that Ned gave as to the manner in which it had been secured. The last food the fugitives ate was on the night preceding, so that all were in the condition to appreciate his thoughtful kindness. When the noonday meal was finished they had made a goodly-sized reduction of the supply. The sensation of the occasion came afterward, when Ned told how Evans had met his end at the hands of the Mohawk, after completing his arrangements to capture the sleeping fugitives in the cavern.

Jo and his sister shuddered at the thought that they had been so nearly in the hands of the fearful scourge of the valley, and it was hard to understand why he spared them as they slept. The remembrance that the three had actually allowed themselves to become unconscious while he mounted guard over them, made all tremble as though the danger was not yet passed. Rosa and Jo expected that the Mohawk would be angered when he learned how his wishes had been disregarded, but Ned had already succeeded in calming his impatience. The event could not but be a lesson to all, since it was that disregard which came so near defeating the whole plan of procedure. None of the friends made any reference to it, nor did Lena-Wingo, but there came a resolve which took a deep hold of the hearts of the three that hereafter, while in the woods, the instructions of the Mohawk should be followed to the letter, even though the threatened consequences were death itself.

The provisions which were left were carefully gathered up and carried to the cavern, which it was agreed should remain their headquarters. It was near midday, the sun only having slightly crossed the meridian. The weather was so warm that all were glad of the chance to spend an hour or two in doing nothing. Near by was a small stream of clear, cool, gushing water, from which they slaked their thirst, while they sat down beneath a large tree, to listen to the plan the Mohawk had decided upon. This he explained briefly, for the scheme was simple and easily comprehended, it being nothing more than to wait where they were until he could find the easiest way by which to enter Wilkesbarre.

The establishment of an understanding with the garrison was a necessary step, in which he had been fortunate. It had been his aim to do this also without discovery, and, had he succeeded, he would have conducted the entire party around to the opposite side, and run safely into shelter with them before sunset. The Iroquois having detected him as he was coming out, the difficulty of the return was greatly increased. But for the fact, also, that Captain Bagley had learned from Evans before his death that the young lady was concealed in the woods, Lena-Wingo was confident he could have made the warriors believe he had delivered her there, and thus greatly simplified the real task of doing so.



Lena-Wingo's plan was to learn how large a force was on their side of the river, how they were disposed, and what was the precise scheme of the Tory colonel for the capture of the girl. When this was done, he could decide in a very few minutes on the course to circumvent him. Now that his friends were all together again, and were scarcely likely to be molested for some time to come, there was no occasion so favorable as the present in which to perform this duty.

Accordingly he told them he should start within half an hour, and would probably be gone the whole afternoon, for he meant to make his work so thorough that there would be nothing remaining to be done after his return except to enter Wilkesbarre that night, and most probably in the early portion of the evening. Could he succeed, the campaign would be ended and our story also; for once safely within the fortifications, the persecuted girl would be beyond all further trouble or molestation from the Tory leader, whose name must forever remain one of execration when mentioned with that of Wyoming valley. Butler had not enough men to venture across the river and attack Wilkesbarre by force, as there was a goodly number still in his rear, who were sure to rise the instant the opportunity were given, and avenge the atrocious massacre of neighbors and friends. The only hope that he had was to secure the girl while attempting to reach this place of safety, and there could be no doubt he would strain every nerve to do so.

The Mohawk told his friends that if they went to sleep in the evening they must expect to be awakened by him, and must therefore be prepared. He advised Rosa to spend the most of her time in the cavern, as no place was more comfortable, and certainly none so safe. While there, her friends should keep watch through the surrounding woods, for there was a possibility of a visit from some of the Iroquois who might wander into the section. A little care, therefore, would be like the ounce of prevention, and might avert some serious difficulty.

The fugitives promised that his suggestions should be considered in the light of positive commands. And then, as Lena-Wingo arose to go, he paused a minute or two while he explained a little secret about the cavern which he believed was unknown to everybody except himself. This was, that there was another means of ingress and egress to it, the ancient occupants of the same having probably constructed a means of escape in case their enemies should press them too hard. This consisted of a narrow underground tunnel, running from the couch where Rosa had obtained her brief rest, and rising to the surface beneath a broad flat stone, near a mass of dense undergrowth. The entrance to it from the interior of the cavern was covered in the same manner, and it is hardly likely that Evans himself was aware of its existence. The stone that hid the mouth at either end of the tunnel was so thin that a man could lift it with a slight effort, and, no doubt, at some time or other they had answered a good purpose.

Jo and Ned were delighted with this discovery, and were confident that, if a company of Iroquois should swoop down upon them, they could keep them at bay until nightfall, and then steal out without discovery. Nothing more remained for Lena-Wingo to say; and, as he was a man of few words, he vanished almost immediately into the forest.

"I don't apprehend that there is danger of our disregarding the wishes of Lena-Wingo this time," said Ned, with a laugh, when they found themselves alone.

"No, I'll be hanged if there is!" replied Jo. "We have done that once or twice, and it has always got us into trouble where he had to help us out again."

"I supposed that he would be angry when we spoke about it," remarked Rosa, "but he showed no feeling at all."

"I understand how that came about," added Jo, with a significant look toward his friend. "Ned has made him believe it was all his fault, and Lena-Wingo has poured out his wrath upon his head, so that none was left for us."

"Is that true?" asked Rosa, looking into the face of her admirer, who blushed and tried to turn the conversation.

As there was no escaping the accusation, Ned had to take a scolding from Rosa herself, who loved him none the less for this little act of self-abnegation.

"See here!" exclaimed the victim, "One of the suggestions of Lena-Wingo was that Jo and I should keep a lookout while the day lasted, so that none of the big Indians might steal down here and eat up Rosa right before our eyes. What do you say, Jo?"

"That's what Red Jack told us," responded his friend, "and if he said it, why, that insured its being a wise suggestion. I'm ready, and while we're gone, Rosa ought to withdraw into the cavern."

"So I think."

It was she herself who made this last remark. As she did so she sprang up, pulled the stone aside, and whisked within, disappearing from sight like a fairy, pausing only long enough at the entrance to wave a light adieu with her snow-white hand. Left to themselves once more, the youths walked slowly away from the cavern, for they had a wish that, if seen, their location might not suggest in the most remote manner, the whereabouts of Rosa Minturn.

"I don't suppose there's much we can do," said Jo, as they halted near the spot where Ned Clinton had left the brother and sister. "You might go over the same route that you followed when you were looking for the Mohawk, as you have made yourself familiar with it."

"That strikes me as a good plan," replied Ned; "there can be no telling how long I'll be gone, as it will depend upon what I see, but if I can discover nothing you may look for me back at the end of an hour or so."

"All right," said Jo. "There's no hurry about it; come when you get ready, and I'll do the same."

And in this off-hand manner the young scouts separated, neither dreaming that danger threatened. Ned followed the course indicated, now well known to him. It was only a brief walk to the tree, and there he paused awhile.

"I was fortunate enough to make a discovery when I climbed that tree this morning," he reflected, "and I may succeed in doing something of the kind if I try it again. But I would rather fail, for I don't want to see another Tory or Indian until Lena-Wingo comes back to us, ready to lead the way into Wilkesbarre. But if there's any one there, I ought to know it, so I'll take another look from the tree-top."

He leaned his rifle against the trunk, and was about to make an upward leap, for the sake of grasping the lowermost limb when he saw a hand suddenly thrust from behind the tree, and his weapon was whisked out of sight like a flash. Before he could recover from his amazement he was surrounded by a half dozen Iroquois warriors and made prisoner!



The capture of Clinton by the six Iroquois was done as artistically as if the whole thing were a play in which all had studied and rehearsed their parts. The youth had not the least suspicion of the peril, until he saw the hand suddenly extended and the rifle withdrawn at the same moment he leaned it against the tree trunk. Then, before he was able to form an idea of what it meant, the Indians came out, he was surrounded and all escape cut off. His gun was beyond his reach, and, wherever he turned, he was confronted by a painted and fully armed Indian warrior.

Ned was confident that these were the same ones he had seen under the command of Captain Bagley, and he looked around for that officer. But he was not to be seen. It was a small matter, however, whether they were the same redmen or not. It was not to be expected that there was any perceptible difference between the Iroquois—let them come from whatever part of the country they chose.

The warriors seemed to enjoy the consternation depicted on the face of their prisoner, who was speechless for a minute or so. But Ned was brave, and there was no shrinking when he was called upon to face one of the possibilities of the warfare in which he was engaged. The first really strong emotion of which he was sensible was that of astonishment, as he recalled the events of the past few days, during which he had met with so many narrow escapes, both from death and capture. Now he had fallen a victim just like a lamb when driven into a corner by the slayer. The next matter which agitated him was the question whether the Iroquois would kill him then and there, or whether they meant to preserve him for future punishment and torture. It must have been that they had received instructions from higher authorities that the whites, whenever possible, were to be taken prisoners instead of being shot, for they made no demonstration toward the fugitive in their power.

After the first feeling of amazement passed, and the captors and captured seemed to understand the situation more fully, the Iroquois stood for several minutes in a conversation which seemed to Ned to consist mainly of exclamations and gestures. He concluded they were discussing what was best to do with him. As he was unable to catch the meaning of a single word uttered, he busied himself in trying to read their sentiments through the gestures in which they indulged. This was a hard task, for they were not of a character natural and expressive to him. But when the thing had lasted some time, he caught the name of Lena-Wingo pronounced by one of them. This led the youth to suspect they were discussing some other question, having determined what was to be done with him long before.

It might be that the warriors were arguing the question whether they should attempt to reach the cavern, seeing that they had secured one of the fugitives, who could conduct them direct to the spot. But, in case such was their intention, Ned was resolved that he would die before playing the part of guide and thus be the means of delivering Rosa into the hands of Colonel Butler. If they addressed him, even, in broken English, he could feign an ignorance of what they said; and, if it should prove impossible to carry out that artifice, he would simply refuse to lead them, and they could do their worst. Fortunately, however, he was not subjected to the trial. The conversation lasted but a short time, when the Indians seemed to conclude it wise for them to leave the immediate neighborhood, for Lena-Wingo was abroad, and there was no telling when or where he would strike, nor in what manner he would call on them.

"I suppose they're on their way to camp," thought Ned, following as obediently as a child, "and I am likely to meet the great Colonel Butler. I know what he thinks of me, and he won't be apt to adopt me as a brother."

The mind of the young man was very active, and he indulged in all kinds of speculation as he moved toward his unknown destination. He was well aware that the Tory commander held him in especial hatred, for the reason that he knew that he loved Rosa Minturn, and suspected that she loved him in return. Surrounded by such heartless allies as were the Iroquois, a cruel man like the Tory could readily find the means of doing what he willed in the way of punishing a rival in the affections of a lady. After indulging in these reflections until he wearied, the prisoner found himself wondering as to how long it would be before the Mohawk would find out what had befallen his young friend.

"I think he will conclude to give me up," muttered Ned, "for whenever he goes off to look after the interests of Rosa, he comes back and finds the rest of us have gotten into trouble. It would have been a great deal better if he had left Jo and me at home, for we have been of little help. He may be gone till long after dark, and when he returns it will be too late for him to devote any attention to me, even if he has the inclination to do so. As for Jo," continued Ned, following out his train of thought, "it may be a long time ere he suspects what has befallen me; I didn't set any fixed time when I would return, and may stay away as long as Lena-Wingo himself before he will dream anything has happened."

His thoughts were called from these speculations by the party having him in charge. They came to a halt, and acted as if they had discovered something of an alarming character. Several warriors darted to cover, as if in quest of something in the undergrowth, while the others stood listening and peering into the woods about them. It was natural that Ned should suspect the presence of Lena-Wingo when he saw this, and his heart beat high with the hope of some rescue organized by that scout, who was so fertile in all the expedients of the war-path. Had he reflected, he would have known that if the Mohawk had attempted any such thing, he would have managed it in such a way that the Iroquois would not have discovered it so readily. The halt lasted but a few minutes, when the warriors who had gone into cover so suddenly reappeared, a few words were exchanged, and the march was resumed.

"I'd like to know what all that was for," thought Ned. "We have come quite a distance," he added, looking up and about him, "and we ought to be very near the camp of Colonel Butler by this time."


The sequel to The Wilderness Fugitives is entitled "Lena-Wingo, the Mohawk."




* * * * *


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All books in this series are 12mo., with eight full-page illustrations. Cloth, extra, 75 cents.

Camping Out. As Recorded by "Kit."

"This book is bright, breezy, wholesome, instructive, and stands above the ordinary boys' books of the day by a whole head and shoulders."—The Christian Register, Boston.

Left on Labrador; or, The Cruise of the Schooner Yacht "Curlew." As Recorded by "Wash."

"The perils of the voyagers, the narrow escapes, their strange expedients, and the fun and jollity when danger had passed, will make boys even unconscious of hunger."—New Bedford Mercury.

Off to the Geysers; or, The Young Yachters in Iceland.

As Recorded by "Wade."

"It is difficult to believe that Wade and Raed and Kit and Wash were not live boys, sailing up Hudson Straits, and reigning temporarily over an Esquimaux tribe."—The Independent, New York.

Lynx Hunting. From Notes by the Author of "Camping Out."

"Of first quality as a boys' book, and fit to take its place beside the best."—Richmond Enquirer.

Fox Hunting. As Recorded by "Raed."

"The most spirited and entertaining book that has as yet appeared. It overflows with incident, and is characterized by dash and brilliancy throughout."—Boston Gazette.

On the Amazon; or, The Cruise of the "Rambler." As Recorded by "Wash."

"Gives vivid pictures of Brazilian adventure and scenery."—Buffalo Courier.

Sent Postpaid on Receipt of Price


Famous Standard Juveniles

Published by THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. Philadelphia


Edward S. Ellis, the popular writer of boys' books, is a native of Ohio, where he was born somewhat more than a half-century ago. His father was a famous hunter and rifle shot, and it was doubtless his exploits and those of his associates, with their tales of adventure which gave the son his taste for the breezy backwoods and for depicting the stirring life of the early settlers on the frontier.

Mr. Ellis began writing at an early age and his work was acceptable from the first. His parents removed to New Jersey while he was a boy and he was graduated from the State Normal School and became a member of the faculty while still in his teens. He was afterward principal of the Trenton High School, a trustee and then superintendent of schools. By that time his services as a writer had become so pronounced that he gave his entire attention to literature. He was an exceptionally successful teacher and wrote a number of text-books for schools, all of which met with high favor. For these and his historical productions, Princeton College conferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts.

The high moral character, the clean, manly tendencies and the admirable literary style of Mr. Ellis' stories have made him as popular on the other side of the Atlantic as in this country. A leading paper remarked some time since, that no mother need hesitate to place in the hands of her boy any book written by Mr. Ellis. They are found in the leading Sunday-school libraries, where, as may well be believed, they are in wide demand and do much good by their sound, wholesome lessons which render them as acceptable to parents as to their children. Nearly all of the Ellis books published by The John C. Winston Company are reissued in London, and many have been translated into other languages. Mr. Ellis is a writer of varied accomplishments, and, in addition to his stories, is the author of historical works, of a number of pieces of popular music, and has made several valuable inventions. Mr. Ellis is in the prime of his mental and physical powers, and great as have been the merits of his past achievements, there is reason to look for more brilliant productions from his pen in the near future.


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Hunters of the Ozark The Last War Trail Camp in the Mountains


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Lost Trail Footprints in the Forest Camp-Fire and Wigwam


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Ned in the Block-House Ned on the River Ned in the Woods


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Two Boys in Wyoming Cowmen and Rustlers A Strange Craft and its Wonderful Voyage


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Shod with Silence In the Days of the Pioneers Phantom of the River


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Red Eagle Blazing Arrow Iron Heart, War Chief of the Iroquois


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Deerfoot in the Forest Deerfoot on the Prairie Deerfoot in the Mountains


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Jim and Joe Dorsey, the Young Inventor Secret of Coffin Island


2 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $2.00 Teddy and Towser; or, Early Days in California Up the Forked River


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 An American King The Cromwell of Virginia The Last Emperor of the Old Dominion


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Lost in the Forbidden Land River and Jungle The Hunt of the White Elephant


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 The Forest Messengers The Mountain Star Queen of the Clouds


3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00 Off the Reservation Trailing Geronimo The Round Up


2 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $2.00 Alden, the Pony Express Rider Alden Among the Indians


2 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $2.00 Captain of the Camp Catamount Camp


2 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $2.00 The Flying Boys in the Sky The Flying Boys to the Rescue

Sent Postpaid on Receipt of Price


Transcriber's notes:

'=' denotes bold type. p17: Extraneous opening quote removed from before But. 'the highest point. But,"' p24: someone changed to some one for consistency. 'the coming of some one.' p54: rifle-shot changed to rifle shot to match other incidences. p61 & p217: anyone changed to any one for consistency. p91: , changed to . 'any time since starting.' p98 & p120: Sh! changed to 'Sh! for consistency (three occurrences). p112: red-men changed to red men to match other incidences. p112: up-stream changed to up stream for consistency. p113: down-stream changed to down stream for consistency (two occurrences). p128: ! added to chapter title to match table of contents. p145: hyphen removed from 'south-east' to make spelling consistent. p145: hyphen removed from 'south-eastern' to make spelling consistent. p176: hyphen added to 'Lena-Wingo' to make it consistent. p184: starting-point changed to starting point to make it consistent. p196: missing opening quote added. '"But it won't do to' p215: red men changed to redmen for consistency. p227: goodly sized changed to goodly-sized for consistency. p247: '.' added after box. p250: Extraneous opening quote removed from before The. 'The "Old Cotton Gin"'


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