Cctvieiou>n oa?ettc,
Vol XXXVI—WhoIe Wo. I8S.
Rates of Advertising.
One square, 18 lines,
1 time 50
•' 2 times 75
3 •' 1.00
44 1 mo. 1.25
3 " 2.50
6 4.00
" 1 year 6.00
2 squares, 3 times 2.00
" 3 mos. 3.50
Communications recommending persons for
office, must be paid in advance at the rate of
25 cents per square.
Grindstones.
FOR sale, a good stock, by
a P I 2 F. J. HOFFMAN.
Cedar Ware.
BUCKETS, Tubbs, Churns, &c., for sale by
a P I 2 F. J. HOFFMAN.
Steel Springs.
a LARGE STOCK of first rate quality for
A sale at F. J. HOFFMAN'S
a pl2 Hardware Store.
"Tobacco, Snuff and Segars
OF every description at the Diamond Drug
and Variety Store of
aps A. A. BANKS.
PLAIN and Faney Envelopes, Note Paper,
Letter and Writing Paper, Quills, Steel
Pens, &.C., &c., for sale at the Diamond Drug
and Variety Store of A. A. BANKS.
Confectionaries.
V[UTS, Crackers, Raisins, &.C., at the Dia
-Ixl mond Drug and Variety Store of
aps A. A. BANKS.
Nails.
A LARGE STOCK low for cash at
A F. I. HOFFMAN'S
apl2 Hardware Stoie.
Salt and Fish.
A GOOD STOCK on hand at very light
profits for cash, by
apl2 F. J. HOFFMAN.
Looking Glasses.
LARGE and small sizes, of beautiful pat
terns, at unusually low prices for cash, by
apl2 F. J. HOFFMAN.
Tin, Sheet Iron, Wire, Ac.
ON hand, always, at very low prices for cash,
at F. J. HOFFMAN'S
ap!2 Hardware Store.
Groceries.
* LWAYS an extensive assortment oo hind.
/1L Salt at $1.50 per sack, or 42 ceDts per
bushel, by the Quantity.
apl2 F. J. HOFFMAN.
Leather and Shoe Findings.
SOLEand UPPER LEATHER. Mo
rlj roceoa. Lining Skins. leasts, Boot Trees,
Shoe Kit, &.C., SLC., for sale by
apl2 F. J. HOFFMAN.
GREEN'S Celebrated Vermifuge. —This
Vermifuge, so justly celebrated, is too
well known to publish anything in its praise.
For sale at A. A. BANKS'
apl2 Diamond Drug Store.
DR. JAYNETS EXPECTORANT,
" " Hair Tonic,
•• M Carminative, for sale by
J. B. MITCHELL.
Lewistown, march 22, 1650.
DR. GREEN'S LINIMENT, for Rheumat
ism, Swellings, Bruises, &x., &c.—one
oi the best remedies now in use for beast as
well as man. Price 37J cts. per bottle, for
saie at A. A. BANKS'
apl2 Diamond Drug Store.
FANCY SOAPS.—Almond soap, Marsh
Mallow soap, Amandine soap, Transpa
rent soap, Military soap, Tooth Balls, Almond
Shaving Cream, Rose do. do., Amandine for
chapped hands, SLC., Sic., for sale by
J. B. MITCHELL.
I/ewistown, march 22, 1850.
TAANCY GOODS —Port Monnaies, Pocket
F Books, Cigar Cases, Shaving Boxee, Note
Paper, superior Sealing Wax, Steel Pens, Pen
Haiders. Stamps, superior Percussion Caps,
Snuff Boxes, Motto Wafers, superior white
Envelopes, do. brown do., redding and pocket
Lorn be, superior Shaving Brushes, do. Hairdo ,
Tooth and Nail do., Sic., Sic., for sale by
J. B. MITCHELL.
I-ewistown, march 22, 1850.
[T WILL CURE.—When you have a cough
or breast complaint, get a bottle of Dr. S.
P. Green's Sarmpurilla, Tar and Cherry
Pectoral. It has cured persons in Lewistown
and vicinity, which can be testified to. It d<es
not nauseate the stomach,and is pleasant to take.
Price only 50 cU. per bottle. For sale at
A. A. BANKS'
apl2 . Diamond Drug Store.
Drugs, &c.
| a RUGS, Medicines, Oils, Paints, Sic., Ac.,
■ J can be had low at
K. J. HOFFMAN'S
bp 12 Drug Store.
A LSO,
Pure White Lead at 82.00 per keg.
fine Copal Varnish at $2 00 prr gallon.
Hood N. J. Glass, Bxlo #2 12$ per Hall Box.
Hams and Bacon.
THE subscriber has j>d in-
T - Tk tends keeping on hand a large
if stock of H A M H, feHGUL
DEKS and FLITCH, of prime
Vtthiy, to sell low for cash.
Api 2 F J. HOFFMAN*
2 squares, 6 mos. $5.00
" 1 year 8.00
A column, 3 mos. 6.00
6 " 10.00
" 1 year 15.00
1 column, 3 mos. 10.00
6 44 15.00
44 l year 25.00
Notices before mar
riages, &c. sl2.
jransnnHß ©jsomsa iß , 2 , SESs'®igs a HEQHHHISJ ©amnfiFSa
THE PEOPLE
Know their Interests, and know
ing will maintain them ;
ilence when tney want goods at
Piriform Prices,
and ae low as can be bought in the State, they
go to
MM, BROTHERS,
because every man, woman and child in the six
counties by this time knows that no one can
sell lower and live. They have, with their
usual enterprise, brought up a large lot ol'
IJIW-BM2M 3D DM,
and opened them to the gaze of admiring thou
sands while most of their competitors were
sleeping over the piles of Calicoes, Ginghams,
and a hundred other articles remaining unsold
lrom last year's purchases. These goods were
a!! selected with an eye to
Beauty, FineneM, antl Dura
bility,
and bought at prices that throw twenty per
cent, men into the shades of oblivion. We
therefore invite our old costomers and about
<I£>CL)C&CQ CE>OD.Q6S3,
(being a'l that we have room for at present) to
give us a call, and if we don't please ninety
nine out of every hundred in
Beauty, Quality and Price,
there is no longer any virtue in
Cheap and Elegant Good*.
There is no need of recapitulating what we
have, either in the
Dry Goods, Grocery, or any other Line,
as it is well known that we havp everything
anybody else has, and a considerable sprink
ling ot neat, useful and pretty matters that
Oilier* have uot.
So let there be no delay among those who
want the first pick—we are
ABJKED AND EQUIPPED
with an elegant yardstick, which measures
true, and in conjunction with our clerks, are
ready to wait on ail the ladies and gentlemen,
whether old or young, ugly or handsome, and
make them look better than they ever did be
fore after being rigged out in the splendid
goods we have provided for their gratification.
Lewistown, March 29, ISSO.
IT IS EVIDENT
To all discerning minds thai
ELY MY Eli has the must
splendid assortment of
SPRING & SUMMER GOODS
ripIIAT has been brought to Lewijtown this
JL season, and withal so cheap that he who
would undersell it must wake up a little earlier
than he ever did before, 'i he stock comprises
m great variety,
Cloths, Cassi nitres, Satinets,
Vestings, Croton Cloths, Cashmeres, and Cash
meretta; Tweeds, Mohair Cords, Drillings,
Velvet Cords, French Cassirneres, Dne Skin
do., white and fancy Marseilles,&c. A splen
did assortment of
ftaOfrfl' ZJrrnis <Goot>.
Grode Naps, Satin du Chenea, an elegant as
sortment of striped, figured and plan Silks,
Bareges, Challey, Muslin de Laines, Alpacas,
Lustres, Ginghams, Lawns, Mulls, Jaconets,
Bombazines, striped and plaid Muslins, Sic.
tie has also an extensive variety of the
CHEAPEST CARPETING
that has yet been brought to this place; to
gether with a never-ending assortment of
READY MADE CLOTHING,
which will be sold at prices to suit purchasers
Besides this, he has
Queen* ware, Cllakkwarr,
and an unparalleled supply of
GROCERIES.
Ladies and gentlemen who wish to clothe
themselves in a becoming dress, such as is
called for in the course of human events by
fashion and public opinion, are invited to take
a look at his stock before purcharing at other
places. His clerks are ever ready and willing
to exhibit to all, and if price and quality don't
suit, there will be no grumbling.
GEORGE BLYMYER
April 12, 1850.
WALTER EI EEI V
RESPECTFULLY announces to his old
friends, and as many new ones as can
make it convenient to call, thqt he lias just re
ceived his
Fall and Winter Stock of Goods,
which he is prepared to dispose of at as reason
able prices as Mr Johnston Thomas, and he
sells about twenty per cent, lower than any
Store in the East Ward. My stock consists of
a general assortment of S E A S O N A II L E
GOODS, viz:
DRY GOODS, GROCERIES,
Queen aware, Glassware and
Hardware,
nm MB 83H)i3,
TOBACCOS A .HO SEGAKS,
and Spies of the purest kind,
Together with all the articles usually found in
a country store. As we do not feel able to oc
cupy the newspapers with an advertisement of
two or three columns, we just say to our friends
to call and aee us, and if' you don't purchase
from us we will not grumble.
Dec. 22, 1849 tf
Pure Cider Vinegar.
OR rale at the Diamond Drug Store of
< apft A. A. BANKS.
FRIDAY EVENING, MAY 3, * 850.
lioetrfi.
LIKE ASD DISLIKE.
Ve who know the reason tell me
How it is that instinct still
Prompts the heart to like—or like not—
At its own capricious will!
Tell me by what hidden magic
Our impressions first are led
Into liking—or disliking—
Oft before a word be said.
Why should smiles sometimes repel us?
Bright eyes turn our feelings cold -
What is that which comes to tell us
All that glitters is not gold ?
Oh—no feature, plain or striking,
But a power we cannot shun,
Prompts our liking, or disliking,
Ere acquaintance hath begun !
Is it instinct—or some spirit
Which protects us—and controls
Every impulse we inherit
By some sympathy of souls !
Is it instinct ?—is it nature?
Or some freak or fault of chance,
Which our liking—or disliking—
Limits to a single glance ?
Like presentiment of dauger,
Though the sky no shadow ilings ;
Or that inner sense still stranger,
Of unseen—unutter'd things ?
Is it—oh, can no one tell me,
No one show sufficient cause
Why our likings—and dislikings—
Have their own instructive law 6 !
isf fll ail rou s *
THE LYNCHERS.
CHAPTER I.
HI'BLIC ALARMS AND PRIVATE QUARRELS.
THE ACCUSATION.
During the troubles with the famous
and daring Chief Black Hawk, when the
inhabitants on our western frontier were
never safe from the depredations of his
tribe and allies, American citizens dwel
ling even at a distance from the seat of
war, were frequently annoyed by unfriend
ly visits from the red men of the forest;
consequently, many families in the eastern
and northern parts of Illinois, were led to
desert their homes, and seek safety by
banding together and retiring to fortified
places. Few, however, at so great a
distance from the disputed territory, suf
fered from the attacks of the Indians ; af
ter their panic had in a degree subsided,
even when struggling bands of plunderers
were scouring the country, the inhabitants,
for the most part, returned to their deserted
homes.
Stephen Moxon was a brave, resolute
settler, whom nothing could intimidate.
While many of his neighbors fled to forts
for security, he calmly went to work to
fortify his own house, which he was de
termined not to leave. He knew that
such flying parties of savages never stop
ped to lay siege to a place, and that if he
and his son, a bold young man of twenty
five, could, wi.h the assistance ol his
wife and daughter, keep the Indians at bay
for a season, there would be nothing to
fear.
' With wife and Mary,' he used to say
1 ' to load our rifles, George and 1 can pick
t off a few red-skins, 1 am thinking, before
they can do much harm to us.'
So Moxon and his family remained at
home, while all his neighbors fled. To
these, however, there was an exception.
There was a young man living close hv
w ho could not think of deserting the neigh
borhood and leaving Mary Moxon behind.
Accordingly, he resolved to remain, and
would have made the house of Moxon his
home for the time, had he been on good
terms with Mary's family. As it was,
there having been a quarrel between him
and George Moxon, the brother of her he
loved, he chose rather to shut himself up
in the house alone, than form any compact
i with the family.
Notwithstanding this difference between
1 Richard Watts ami George Moxon, Ricli
• aid and Mary were betrothed ; for their
I love and confidence in each other were un
j hounded.
After the first panic, occasioned by the
, red men, had subsided, many who had
, left their homes in the neighborhood, learn
ing thai Stephen Moxon's family had not
| been molested, rseolved to return and fol
i low his example.
It was then that Richard Watts would
have made Mary his wife notwithstanding
; her brother's opposition ; but she prevailed
i upon him to delay his claims until George
I could be brought to give his consent.
YVnh regard to Stephen Moxon himself,
he was neither for or against Richard, but
' left the two young men to adjust their
own dilFerenccs, and Mary to do as she
chose.
Thus time passed on, until, one day, it
! chanced that George and Richard were
hunting in the same piece of woods, and
I met near the banks of a stream, close to
| a large and deep mill-pond.
We will not describe the interview, nor
dwell upon its consequences ; suffice it to
i say tliut George did not return home that
i night, and that Richard, although he was
seen by several of the inhabitants without
! game of any description, was spotted with
blood, and that he had received a knife
■ wound in a shoulder.
On the following morning the neigh
; horhood was alarmed, and search was
made for George Moxon. It being in the
autumn, there were many leaves upon the
ground, which enabled the young man's
friends to discover, near the mill-pond, a
spot where a struggle had taken place ;
and where some dead body had evidently
been dragged away, and thrown into the
water.
Added to this, the hunting knife which
Richard Watts was known to possess, was
found near the spot, crusted over with
blood.
4 This,' said Stephen Moxon, turning to
the friends who accompanied him—and as
he spoke his eye Hashed revengefully, his
features were pale, and his firm lips com
pressed—4 This, gentlemen, smells of mur
der ! My son lias been killed !'
4 And Richard Watts,' added his friends
with one accord, 4 is the murderer ! Re
venge !'
At the time of which we write, and in
that portion of the country in which the
scene of our story is laid, but little law
existed, except the law of force ; and indi
viduals were but too apt to take upon
themselves the revenge of their own pri
vate wrongs.
The Moxons had powerful friends
throughout the settlement, many of whom
were ready to consider the quarrels of that
family as their own, and to act according
ly. In consequence of this, as soon as it
was known that George Moxon had been
killed, and that Richard Watts was his
murderer, there was a consultation among
the friends of the deceased, to decide upon
the course which should be pursued.
An old hunter named Ford, a shrewd,
rough, impetuous character, put himself
at the head ol George's friends, deter
mined, as he said, to see that the right
thing was done, and vengeance was taken
when due.
It was rightly deemed that it would be
a dilfieult task to capture Richard in his
own house; and Ford ha\ing given his
accomplices all necessary instructions,
proceeded to Richard's residence alone.
The young man met him at the door,
and greeted Ford as he had always done.
The latter rough as he was, could play
the hypocrite, and did so, not desiring that
Richard should suspect the object of his
visit.
4 Have you heard the news. Dick ?'
asked Ford.
4 What news ?'
4 That's it ; what news ? It is hard to
say it, but I must confess I believe it—'
• What V interrupted Richard.
4 That George Moxon has been mur
dered,' said Ford, looking his companion
full in the faee.
Richard turned deathly pale, but soon
recovered himself and answered calmly :
- llow—and when ? 1 had not heard of
it.'
Ford described the spot, and added that
the murderer had evidently tied some
heavy object to the body and thrown it in
to the mill-pond.
* Richard's perturbation was visible.'
* I am sorrv to say,' replied Ford, • that
some have thought you—'
' 1 !' echoed Richard, with a start.
4 Thp fact is,' pursued the hunter, 4 cir
cumstances are against you, and it will be
necessary for you to explain where you
were last night, what has become of your
hunting knife, and itow these spots of
blood came on your dress, considering
you brought home no game.'
4 This is a dark piece of business,' said
Richard turning pale. * I am innocent,
but there may be some difficulty in ex
plaining these things to the satisfaction of
all. 1 believe you are my friend —what
would you advise tne to do ?'
4 1 would say go at once with me to
Moxon's house, and give what explanation
you can on the subject. If you are inno
cent, which 1 should be sorry to doubt, it
will be easy to prove yourself so.'
Decided by this appearance of friend
ship in his visiter, Richard resolved to
follow his advice, and set out to accompany
him to Moxon's house.
On arriving there, he was surprised to
find some half a dozen stout, resolute men
assembled, apparently awaiting his arrival,
while neither Alary nor Mrs. Moxon were
in the room.
4 Here,' said Ford, 4 is the place to give
explanations, and recollect that your life
depends upon your words. We believe
you killed George Moxon, and we arc his
avengers.'
4 Villain !' muttered Richard, turning
fiercely upon his betrayer, and seizing
him by the throat ; 4 take that for your
treachery !'
In an instant the young man was borne
down by the friends of George, and bound
like a culprit. Finding resistance vain, he
submitted patiently to his fate.
4 Now,' said Ford, 4 if you have any
thing to say, we will hear it—but be brief.'
4 1 have nothing to say before a mob like
this,' replied Richard indignantly ; take
me before some acknowledged authority,
and I will tell you all about the matter.
Lot ine Warn you, however, to beware how
you treat me, for 1 am an innocent man.'
4 You murdered George Moxon!' said
Ford ; 4 we his friends, are his avengers.
We will give you until to-morrow morn
ing to prove your innocence ; when, if you
fail to do so, you must suffer the penalty.'
Richard eyed his accusers sternly and
in silence, but opened not his mouth as
thev led him awav to a close, narrow
! apartment, which was chosen as his place
of confinement.
CHAPTER 11.
i IMPENDING FATE THE PLACE OP EXECU
TION.
Under the same roof with Mary Mox
on, Richard was not permitted to see her
face.
4 Does she know I am here ?' he said to
. himself. 4 Does she know that lam ac
i cused of taking ht:r brother's life—and am
1 a murderer in her eyes ? Would 1 could
speak with her V
From this the prisoner fell to reflecting
| on his probable fate.
4 That cursed mob ! they will lynch me
, before I am proved guilty.'
Richard was spirited, and had little fear
! of death ; yet the thought of the horrible
destiny that threatened him, caused hiin
to shudder. He could only hope for some
' escape.
He was alone in a distant room, the
window of which was fastened on the out
side as well as within, and the door of
which was guarded by two of the 4 aven
gers of blood.' Richard could therefore
' thing of nothing but submission to his
j fate.
\\ hen the prisoner \t as least expecting
it he had a visiter.
It was Mary Moxon ! The friends of
George had given her permission to see
him, hoping that she might induce him to
j confess, in order that their proposed deed
j of blood might ' ~ar more the appearance
of justice.
Mary was scarce eighteen, tall, well
formed and beautiful. On the present oc
casion she was very pale, and her eyes
and fair cheeks showed the traces of re
cent weeping.
Richard advanced and would have taken
her hand, hut she repulsed him, not angri
ly nor harshly, but with an appearance of
: solicitude and sorrow.
4 Touch me not,' said she, 4 until I know
whether you arc innocent of this horrid
crime or guilty. Tell me now truly,
Richard,' she continued, fixing her dark
eyes upon his own, 4 tell me before God
—did you kill my brother ?'
4 Mary,' replied Richard, folding his
arms and regarding her with a look of ten
derness and pity, 4 if you do believe that I
took your brother's life, you do right to
spurn me—l blame you not if you shud
der and grow sick at the sisrht of me !
Hut have you so mean an opinion of me
as to credit the false reports vou have
heard ?'
4 Then you arc innocent?' said Alary
eagerly.
4 As innocent as yourself!'
j 4 1 knew it, 1 felt it!' sobbed the girl,
hiding her face in her hands.
Was it the strength of love that over
came every other feeling, or knew she not
what she did ? She who shunned the
prisoner a moment before, now sank into
his arms and dropped her head upon his
bosom.
And Richard strained her to his heart
forgetting, for the moment, that he was
charged with shedding her brother's blood !
Hut the transport was soon passed, and
Alary recovering her self-possession, asked
him it he knew nothing of her brother.
• Nothing !' replied Richard more than
this. •We met in the woods at the spot
where they say I killed him, high words
passed between us and blows ensued !'
• O, Richard !' groaned the young girl.
4 ln the struggle 1 dropped my knife
from my belt. He seized it, and gave me
this slight wound on my shoulder. I had
not thought this of your brother, Alary,
! and with a feeling of deep sorrow, 1 bared
my bosom, and bade him strike, if I had
ever given him cause to hate me to death.
He seemed touched, and flung the knife
upon the ground, but was too proud to ac
knowledge lus error. I would not stoop
to tous'h the blade that had been used to
wound, but turned away, leaving him
there. This, Alary, is all I know of the
matter, as I swear before the all-seeing eye
of heaven !'
4 Richard,' murmured Alary. 1 cannot
but believe you—but—can't you bring
some proof of your innocence ! They \
will not credit your words, but unless you |
can prove what you say—O, Richard ! I
shudder to think of the result!'
At this moment one of the self-styled !
avengers came in and informed Mary that
her time was up, and led her away rc- j
gardless of her tears and distress.
4 What did he say to you ?' asked her ,
father in the presence of Ford and two of
his companions.
4 That he is innocent!'
4 What more V
AVith tears and frequent sobs the poor
girl went on to tell all Richard had said.
• Ila !* cried Ford, he owns, then, that
they quarrelled ! What a lame evasion to j
say George struck him with a knife, and ;
that lie did not return the blow ! What
say you, friends V
4 lie must die !' was the response of all
save Moxon, who regarded his agonized
daughter in silence.
Alary passed a night of unspeakable ac
guish, and Richard one of anxiety and
hopeless Yet he was calm, and
slept several hours before the morning 1
stole through his window.
Breakfast was brought into him bv Ford.
!%'ew Seriev —Vol. 4—l\*. 28.
who at the same time informed him that
he had but two hours longer to live.
Such is the rash merciless haste of the
lyncher !
Two hours passed away.
It was a beautiful autumn morning, al
though there was a pervading melancholy
breathing in the drowsy, smoky air far
different from the brightness of a summer
day. It seemed a morning heaven never
designed to witness a deed of deliberate
bloody vengeance !
Yet Richard was led out to suffer pun
ishment for a crime he was charged with
having committed, and it was by the light
of the morning's sun that he beheld the
preparations of his execution.
It was on the borders of a grove. On
the one side was a beautiful woodland, and
on the other a broad expanse of prairie,
undulating like a troubled sea fixed with
all its billows, and stretching as far away
as the eye could penetrate the hazy air.
Mary, with wild desp'air, and crushed
by sorrow remained at home while her
lover was led to execution, and her father
stern and stoical, was with her, choosing
rather to witness her grief than the death
of George's murderer. The execution
was to take place under the direction of
the blood-thirsty Ford.
Richard was to be hung. Alreadv a
strong rope was attached to the lowest
limb of a stunted oak that stood out from
the rest of the forest trees, and a tempora
ry staging was erected for the devoted
youth to stand upon while the cord was
adjusted to his neck.
• Now Dick,' said Ford,' let us see vour
agility—-jump upon the block."
' Untie his hands,* said another, 4 so that
he can die decent like a man.'
• As you say,' returned Ford.
And Richard's hands were accordingly
set at liberty. He then stepped boldly up
on the staging, and looked around his ex
ecutioners.
Ford would have mounted with him to
adjust the rope.
• Nay, be not at that trouble,' said Rich
ard, with an air of dignified authority,
which awed the old hunter; "I will tie the
rope myself. But just hear me say a few
words for the benefit of your consciences
after you have murdered me. I know
you will hang me, and that in half an hour
I shall be a corpse ; but even now on the
point of dropping into eternity, I swear
that you are murdering an innocent man.
My blood is on your heads !'
•That is a bold lie!' said Ford with a
grim smile.
4 Insolent villain !' exclaimed Richard
; • to insult a dying man ! But know I can
! resent an insult still!'
! The words had scarce escaped his lips
: when he leaped like a tiger upon Ford and
hurled him to the ground. Then, before
his companions could recover from their
surprise, he dashed through them, and
bounded down the declivity like a deer.
CHAPTER 111.
THE DOUBLE RACE.
| Shoot him down ! shoot him down !'
■ cried Ford, springing to his feat in a rage.
But two of the company had rifles with
them, and as it would appear, neither of
them chose to take the individual respon
sibility of Richard's death : for while the
I fugitive was in full view, they fired their
i pieces, with no more effect than if they
had been loaded with dust. With a curse
upon their unskilful hands, Ford dashed
down the hill in hot pursuit of Richard.
The woodland was between Richard
and his would-be executioner, and not
daring to attempt reaching it, he shot
boldly out upon the prairie. Ford and two
of his companions followed him, while
the remainder stood upon the declivity
watching with intense interest the pursu
ers and pursued.
Richard was fleet of foot, but the grass
of the prairie, all drv and loose, was so
long that it impeded his progress ; vet he
did not give his pursuers the advantage,
lie was sometimes lost to sight in the
ravines and hollows, and then he would
again appear on the summit of a bold el
evation stretching away towards the hazy,
indistinct outlines of the distant hills.
The fugitive gamed ground upon his
pursuers, but they seemed loth to give up
the race. Richard approached a squat
ter's hut far out on the prairie. The
spectators of the strife watched him clos •,
but soou another object attracted their at
tention.
A horseman ! He was approaching the
same hut, but he was far beyond it, and
as he spurred his charger to its utmost
speed, it seemed that it was his object to
reach the hut before Richard. But he had
ten times the distance to compass, and
Richard was already surmounting the ac
clivity upon which the cottage stood.
What could be the meaning of that
horseman's terrible speed ?
He well might lash his horse, for in hot
pursuit of him were two dariug savages
mounted on animals fleeter than his own !
Seeing the danger of the horseman,
Richard forgot the peril he himself was in.
Swift as he had run, he now quickened his
pace, not to save himself, but to rescue his
fellow-man.
He dashed up the lull, burst unceremo
nious! v in'o the cottage, snatched a burning