VOTL-. XXXIII w -Martinconrt & Co. Always Lead,#- Have you been looking at buggies and wondering how they could be made for the price the dealer asked you? If so, then call at our store and you will think the manufacturer stole the material to make them of, when you seejgood bug gies for the price others sell shoddy for. We never buy a cents worth on time. Have been in the business many, many years. We know what we are selling and tell you straight. "Never misrepresent or try to get rich off our customers," has alway been our motto and has built up for us the largest trade in Western Pennsylvania. No differ ence what you want about your buggy, wagon or harness, come here and see the largest stock in our line you have ever seen, at prices below what any other firm does or can make. It won't cost you anything to try it and satisfy yourself. Thankful for past favors, we are, il""' S. B. HARTINCOURT & CO. 128 East Jefferson St. Butler, Pa. T. fl. Burton T. H. Burton Why is it that T. H. BURTON is always busy in his.store? Simply because the people of Butler county appreciate the fact that he has the best selected stock of Foreign and Domestic Suitings extra pants and N r en's and Boy's Furnishing Goods, ever brought to Butler, and sells them for less money. We guarantee everything that goes out of our store to give perfect satisfaction or money cheerfully refunded. T. H. Burton T. H. Burton **Underwear Specials** For two weeks only. The greatest bargains ever offer ed in this city. 25 and 35 cent corset covers at 13c. MILLINERY DEPARTMENT. 35 cent drawers at 19c. 25, 35. 40 aud 50 cent ribbon at 9c, 35 and 40 cent drawers at 25c. 50 cent hats at 3c each, these hats all 25. 25 and 35 cent chemise at 13c. s°. ar >d 75c. . 5° ccnt ***» at i - xoc, former price 25c to 75 cent skirts at 60c. Best quality silk mitts 25 cents. ft and $1 25 night gowns at 73c. 35 c " " 18c. 75c gowns at 55c. 50c gowns at 25c. 25c " " 13c. Infants IOC vests at 2c. ?5. 35 and 50c handkerchiefs 15c, or 2 . _ f for 25 cents. Chi Id rent 25c vests at 15c, or 2 for 25c. Infants mull caps at 3, 9 and 15 cents. M. F. & M. MARKS. 113 to 117 South Main Street, Butler, Pa. ■ ' 1 1 . Prescriptions and Family Recipes are matters of Importance and should be filled carefully and with pure drugs only, w_- give them our special attention. The Bab; + * requires a little special care during the warm weather, espec ially if fed from a bottle, we have a supply of frest infant food, at all times, also bottles, nipples, tubes, bottle and tube cleaners etc. It you desire a sterilizer we can supply you with one, or will lie pleased to furnish any desired information concerning them, Disinfectants should be used extensively at this season of the year, the best being copperas, chloride-lime, and crude carbolic acid, the latter being better than the pure, as in purifying an important disin fecting agent is removed, we have a large supply of these at all times. We also carry a full ine of toilet articles and sick-room requisites. REDICK & GROHMANN PEOPLES PHONE. 114. BUTLER PA: *ut(st smi: * hist bib* ♦BID 181 * Hit HIM* | (These are the things that have enabled me to build up a first-class tailoring trade during the last year. We have the most skillful, painstaking cutter; employ none but tire very best workmen; handle nothing but the very l>est goods, both foreign and domestic, and guarantee you perfect satisfaction in each and every particular, and for all this charge you simply a fair living profit. J: S. YOUNG" Tailor, Hatter and Hen's Furnisher "" "" /WHEN It in poor economy to take your watch any whore } \ for repairs except to a reliable watchmaker. % )OUT OF Every class of repairing that is brought into oor s ORDER. store is done by skilled workmen, experts in their N C ——— variooß lines, and we endeavor to have everything j N correct before it leaves our hanJa. ) ) F" frRTFR thk > / ESTABLISHED 1850. 139 N. Main St, BUTLER, PA. } THE BUTLER CITIZEN. Biliousness ' Is caused by torpid liver, which prevents diges j tion and permits food to ferment ami putrify in I the stomach. Them follow dizziness, headache, Hood's insomnia, nervousness, and, __ B If not relieved, bilious fever Ki|, I I or bloo;KJNG PROMPTLY DONE. e. ,d. cpmmm&zmm 1 | Wear | |P©ipta 1 C*D wLf OO CV» £RT!!?oroug!) pzctcctioor^ cS cvi (XWo irritatiop— "v ;^- gsa t {^3 §5 ' & f ittij) g % SB price* Csß . All iw Jaros Hy^ie^ic §S. r * r4* liTTTLER. PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 18, 1896. CHAPTER I It was some years after the great Qiy il war, though that it woe not long aft er can be imferretifrom the fact that but one railroad had as yet laid its iron muscles across the great plains from the Missouri to the mountains. The cat tle herds of the ranchers had not yet taken the place of the swarming black buffalo oa the tampan. There were no settlements lUong the rivers 'where now stately cities rise, and the only means of conveyance and transportation were the saddle and the psairie schooner, as the great canvas topped wagons that conveyed the immigrants, goods and family we're then called. It was an evening in early June. The ♦c-rtinp sun was throwing a shadow from the giant mountains to the westward >ver the clear tributaries of the Missou ri, when a large train went into camp in a valley that afforded abundant wa :er and pasture for their cattle and dorses, while the slopes of the surround ing foothills were covered with fuel, snly necessary at this time for cooking purposes. This was known as Dr. Blanchurd's train. Dr. Blanchard was a handsome man 5f middle age, who up to the time of his going westward had lived, as had his forefathers for many generations be fore him, near Wheeling aud what is now West Virginia. The civil war, in which the doctor did not take part— though, unlike most of his family, his sympathies were with the Union —had left him impoverished, and, what was worse, without friends where he should most expect them. His wife had just lied—it might be said of a broken heart. At the beginning of the war Mrs. Blanchard had two brothers, Frederick and Valentine Weldon. Frederick Wel don, or Fred, as he was called, strongly favored secession, and his brother as strongly opposed it. 0110 night Valentine returned home from Charleston, whither he had ridden 011 horseback with his brother. The brother never returned, but some months afterward a body was found down the river which could not be recognized ex cept by its tattered garments, and from these it was believed to be the corpse of Frederick Weldon. The skull was frac tured, and an impression went abroad that lie had bewn killed by his brother. This impression was strengthened by the fact that immediately after the disap pearance of Frederick, Valentine, with his wife, two little sons and a baby daughter, suddenly disappeared and was never heard of again in that land. Val entine had been advertised for. Through the death of his father, who died with out knowing that one of his sons was dead, a large estate was left to the two brothers. Dr. Blanchard's wife was a sister of the Weldons, but had been entirely ig nored in her father's will, a fact that no doubt added to the unsettled condi tion of thu doctor's mind and forced hMil to go westward with his children. These children were a son Howard, at this time a tall, handsome young man of two and twenty, and two daughtern, Alice and Clara, aged respectively 17 and 19. For the purpose of protection, a num ber of other wagons had joined Dr. Blanc-hard's train at Omaha, and be fore setting out they had elected the doctor to be their chief and a man known as Captain Brandon to be their guide. Captain Brandon was a tall, bronzed man, with a grizzled beard, one eye, and a very quiet manner. Though evidently in the prime of life, his hair was snowy white, which, added to Ue introduced htr.nself an Henry Kyle. a slight deafness, made him appear j. There was a livid sear run ning from his right brow to his (thin. It bad severed the eyeball, destroying tho eye, and left an ineffaoeablegash on the brown cheek. Among tho people in the caravan there was a very general impression that the soar.and the lost eye were lhargeable to thu military services in which this strange man had won his rank. Captain Brandou-'s reserve amounted to positive taciturnity, which gave him the uppearance of coolness and strength that attaches to most sil'out men. Being adverse to speaking about him self, there were plenty of imaginative and voluble people to si>cak for him. According to these authorities, < 'upturn Brandon had lived time out of mind on tho western plains or in the snowy mountains beyond. What he did not know about hunting and Indians was not worth knowing, and there was a very general belief among them that he could walk blindfolded from the Atlantic to the Pacific without onoe making a misstep. But Captain Brsindon was not the ideal scout presented to un by the writer of western fiction. His dress was not that of a hunter, but was plain, suit able to his work and well fitting. And then, more remarkable still, he spoke with the accent and language of a man of good education, though there was in his sj>eecli a noticeable softening of tho letter "r" which is peculiar to the more cultured class in the southern states. To this remarkable man Dr. Blanch ard felt himself drawn from the first; but, while his advances were not rudely repulsed, In was met with a well bred coolness that told very plainly that Cap tain Brandon wished to be to himself. Curiously enough, tins silent man was very fond of children. During the long rides across the rolling prairies he usu ally had one before him on his saddle, and during tho Sunday halts he gather ed wild flowers for them and bright sea shells in the rocks, where they had been left high and dry by the great salt sea that once swept over that land. Eight prairie schooners carried the women and children, with the house hold goods and tho food that would be necessary till they could harvest their own crops. The routo of this little par ty lay over tho Black Hills and on to* ward the wondrous country of the Yel lowstone. With the delight that thrills the sailor when after long watching the dim shores of the prayed for land comes in sight, the people greeted the first glimpses of the blue mountain to the west, and with thankful hearts they beheld the clear streams and the ver dant valleys that mark the foothills of the great Rockies. Alice and* Clara were as beautiful semiblonds as one could meet with, and it was impossible that they could belong to a party in which there were single men without attracting attention. Ten days before reaching the moun tains the train was joined by two young men—"hunters," as they called them selves. They were clad in the typical picturesque dress of the dandies of their class, and one of them, apparently the elder, was a strikingly handsome young man of four and twenty. He was of medium height, finely built, and an ad mirable horseman. He introduced him self as Henry Kyle and his burly com panion as Font Robb. These young men said they were go ing into northern Idaho-to prospect dur ing the coming fall and winter, and they asked to be permitted to accompany Dr. Blanchard's party, the doctor at that time having in mind Washington terri tory as his destination. As Henry Kyle and Font Robb were well mounted and good hunters, who oould find game if there was any within reach, they were permitted to remain and at once, with an easy, western famil iarity, proceeded to make themselves at home. CHAPTER 11. There was a time when the hunters and trappers were the real heroes of the far west. These, even at the time of which I write, had given pl;ice to ad venturous miners and to a class of men who were as bold in their defiance of law as were Robin Hood and his men in the middle ages. Henry Kyle and Font Robb were men of this class and were well known to Captain Brandon by reputation; but, for reasons that will be given hereafter, he permitted them to accompany him, and though he knew that they were stealing away in the dead of night—a most unnecessary pro ceeding, by the way—did not raise a hand to stay them. They rode through the mountains till daylight, when Henry Kyle took his friend's hand and said: "Here we part for the present, Font. It is nearly a year since I have seen the old folks, and I am going home." "I hope you'll find'em all right," said Robb, adding, with a smile, "I hope they won't win you away from the boys." Without any comment, Henry Kyle raised his bridle arm and his splendid horse darted away and was soon lost to sight among the hills. He rode until the summer sun lgoked straight into the deepest canyons and rifts of that won drous land and flashed on a lake that was walled in by mountains that rose ikyward like an impassable barrier. Between the mountains and the lake there was a belt of valley many hun dreds of acres in extent, with clumps of trees here and there that gave it a park like effect. There were cattle and sheep in the meadows, and the emerald ex panse was scanted with sinuous streams that flashed down from the distant snow peaks and pound their cool trout filled currents into the lake. From one of the groves a pillar of smoke arose, marking the site of a human habitation. When Henry Kyle saw this, he left the trail he had been following and gallcyed for the grove. Tho cattle and sheep raised their heads and looked after him in wonder. A large double log house occupied a clear space in the grove, aud back of this was a bam. The surrounding gar dens showed thrift, and the vines and flowers indicated more refinement in the occupants of the place than is usual ly seen in that wild land. As Henry Kyle was hitching his horse to u tree before the house a beautiful girl of 17 or 18 ran out, and, with a cry of "My brother! My brother!" she threw her arms about him. "Glad to see you, Nora," said Henry Kyle, kissing her; then holding her at arm's length, while admiration filled bis eyes, he continued: "Why, you grow more and mora beautiful every time I see you. Ah, it> » pity that so fair a mountain flower should be shut in from the admiration of the world!" "The world!" she repeated. "This is my world," and she lifted her eyes with an expression of adoration from the valley to the mountains. "Away from this home I could not be happy. " "Well, well! Whercone is content a knowledge of better things may not be prudent. But tell me, how is mother?" Before the girl could answer a Kiay haired woman, with a calm, patient face and an indescribable look of having seen better days in other scenes, came out and greeted the young man with a warmth and tenderness which uuly a mother can feel. "Put away your horse," she said. "You have surely come to stay with us now." "Only a few hours," he answered. Then he added, with a forced laugh: "1 have too often broken the peace of the valley. Ido not thtnk that my father and Louis will care to have me with them for even that time. " "You know they will. Ah, Henry, if you would only stay with us we might be very happy!" They had now entered the house, and an Indian boy, who acted as a servant, wa« told by Mrs. Kyle to take charge of the horse. "I should like to make you all happy, but I am afraid 1 am an Ishmaelite and can never settle down. Have you not often defended me by telling father it was in the blood?" "No, Henry. It is not in your blood to err as you have done. Impulse has been the curse of the—the Kyles, but not a one of them has ever been capable of a deliberate wrong," said Mrs. Kyle, coming over and stroking his wavy brown hair. "I might be happy in this valley if I could persuade a young beauty whom 1 recently met to stay here with me and share my fate," said Henry Kyle with the light, careless manner that was pe culiar to him. "And who is this beauty?" asked Mrs. Kyle. "She is with her father, brother and another sister, now en route t*. Oregon or Washington territory. The immi grant train passes within two hours' ride of here tomorrow.'' "And where does this family ooino from?" "From West Virginia," replied Hen ry- "West Virginia?" "Yes, mother. Why, the name seems to startle you," said Henry, turning and watching the white cloud .of trou ble that swept over his mother's fac« "Oh, no! Why should the name of a place affect me?" She stroked her fore head nervously and then asked with an evident effort at composure, "And what is the name of the people?" "Blanchard," replied Henry. "Th® old gentleman is called Dr. Blanchard. " "Dr. Blanchard!" No effort, even had one been made, could hide the emotion that Mrs. Kyle now felt. All the color fled from her face, and her hands trembled so that she had to interlock her fingers to keep them steady. "Did you ever hear of the name be fore?" asked Henry. "I—l think I have." Nora was about to speak, but was in terrupted by the joyous barking of a dog outside, and the sound of voices near by gave her an excuse to cry out: "Father and Louis! They will be glad to see you." The girl went to the door, where her father and brother greeted her fondly, and she then led them into the room where was her truant brother. Louis Kyle was a few years younger than his brother and equally handsome, but his face had a stronger and more serious expression. He welcomed Henry cordial ly, but the look on the father's face was not one of pleasure. Mr. Kyle was a tall, well made man of 50, with iron gray hair and shoulders slightly stoop ed The story of a great grief was plain ly written on his face. "Are we to have you with us long?" asked Mr. Kyle, addressing H«ury. "No, sir. I was near here and came to see how you all were." "I suppose we should be thankful," said Mr. Kyle with a sneer. "It must have caused 3 r ou an effort to leave your companions." "Let us not blame him,"broke in Mrs. Kyle. "There is but little to occu py a young mat. of spirit here.'' "There is duty," interrupted the younger brother. "Any man who wants a higher incentive would be incapable of appreciating it." "All, Louis," laughed Henry, "we are differently constituted! Tho blood of the Scotch-Irish Covenanters freezes in your veins; the red current of the French burns tlirough mine. I love you better for being what you arc. If we were alike, these mountains would be too small to hold us.'' "If you were like me, this valley," I said Louis, "would be a kingdom large enough'' Leaving the brothers to talk, Mrs. Kyle beckoned to her husband to follow her. She led him into another apart ment, the floor of which was carpeted With the softest furs, then cautiously closing the door, said: "Dr. Blanchard, his son and two daughters are near by on their way to Oregon." "My God!" sobbed the man. "My sister Mary's husband! Mysister Mary's children!" "But they will not come near us," she said soothingly. Mr. Kyle took a turn across the room; then ooming back he cried out: "My heart goes out to them. All the past rises in judgment before me. It was but yesterday that I fled through the storm and darkness with this right arm red with the blood of my brother!" As Valentine Kyle, or Valentine Wel don, to give him his true name, spoke he baried his face in liis big brown hands and cried as If Ms heart were freaking. The wife and husband were Itill talking when a bright Indian girl, | known as Kushat, came into the room ! and told them that dinner was ready. During the meal this girl followed Henry Kyle with her black eyes, and there was that in the gaze that told of a more than ordinary interest in the handsome young man. After dinner Henry Kyle saddled his horse, bade )' family goodby and was soon flying iw. the mountains from which he Lad come. CHAPTER 111. Henry Kyle's splendid horse flew over the mountain trail that dark night with all the ease and certainty of a great bird cleaving the air. After three hours of ceaseless galloping the young man saw, far to the front and far down from the hill along which liis horse courted, a campfire, and the ruddy revealed a group of men, their rifles flashing on the trees like queer igneous fruit, while in the background the out line of a gr-mp of grazing horses could be mjwle out Suddenly a figure in hunt er's dress appeared on the trail, ami Henry Kyle, reining in his horse with liis left hand while his right dropped back to the stock of his pistol, called out: "Is that you, Bon ton?" "Yen. Wo're waiting for you," re plied the tall figure in a gruff voice. Henry Kyle dismounted, aud as the two drew nearer to the fire the glowed on the fierce brown face of Bou ton, a lawless half breed but too well known to the settlers in these moun tains. "The boys are in a hurry," continued the half breed. "What's up?" "They are afraid the immigrant train may escape us, IUUI that mustn't bo, for it is the rich«»t outfit that ha* boon seen in these hills for many a day." "Are the Blisses in camp?" "Yes, Hank." "I can't see why two Virginia law yers should come out to this country aud join a gang that is notoriously law less," said Henry Kyle meditatively. ' 'They keep their own secrets, Hank,'' chuckled Bouton. "So they do, but I can't see why they should be so eager to get this Dr. Blanch ard and his son out of the way." "In order that they may marry the daughters, I suppose. But are the girl* so beautiful?" "Beautiful as pictures, Bouton —too beautiful to be thought of in connection with such a brace of ugly curs as these two brothers." said Henry Kyle, the words coming as if from betwe en hit set teeth. By this time the two men had reach ed the campfire, and a score i f men, bearded and bronzed, greet* d Henry Kyle with a cheer that indicated his popularity, if, indeed, it did not imply his leadership. Henry Kyle unsaddled and staked his horse—the lirst care of a true hunter —and tin ,'i went to the fire, on which meat was broiling and savory messes steaming in iron pots. "You met up with them. Mr. Font Robb says yon met up with them," said a man, laying liis hand on Henry's arm. "Oh, you—Mr. Tom Bliss! How are you? Yes, I met them. I told you 1 would if tin y were on the plains," "So you did, so you did, and I be lieved you implicitly." And as Tom 111 is* spoke ho drew Henry Kyle out ol hearing of the others. Just hero it may be necessary to ex plain the appearance of Jonas Bliss' twe sous in these wilds. l)r. Blanehard had not b< " ii tfone from his old homo a week when the collateral heirs—the kinsmen of old J. lm Weldon, the patriarch—lK gait to make inquiries about the im mense estate that ljad been unclaimed for so many years in the old lawyer'* hands that he very naturally Ix-gan tc look upon it as his own. Lawyer Bliss refused to give them any satisfaction, and the consequence was that the remaining Weldons ap pealed to the courts and dennuidi <1 an investigation. The courts granted tin order, and the old lawyer found tin j ca!r> current of his prosperity vexed by oppos.i._ He said one d..r t 1 '<» sons: "I am left sole t r ' T >hn Wel don's estate. It was left tutu j,..;.id sons, Valentine and Frederick. The lat ter is dead, and if the former is not j we can safely count 011 never seeing him ; again. He is a murderer and will not j risk his life to gain any wealth. The j will can still be set aside, but only by ! Dr. Blanchard's children. They are the I rightful heirs." "But they have left it all behind them and fled," said Tom Bliss, who was very much like his father. ' 'That is 110 bar. The courts will hunt them up, though the courts can not force them to press their claims. " "It wouldn't be a bad thing for us," interposed Sim Bliss, who was thought to be very shrewd because he spoke but little, "if the whole party was gobbled up by the Indians. " There was so much more in this than the mere words would ordinarily con vey that the old lawyer aud his son Tom fairly gasped for breath. It was Tom who firsc recovered and said: "They could be stopped. " "They could be so fixed as never to be heard of again," joined in Sim. "The girls should be wat«hed over and cared for. Ah, if you boys had on ly succeeded in winning them," sighed the old lawyer, "the whole (state would be in our hand 1 ; and we might snap our fingers at the whole Weldon clan!" "It is not too late yet," said Tom, and thereupon he whispered a plan that met the approval of his father and brother. The result of tbi- plan was that with in a week Tom I Sim Bliss, with plenty of money in their pockets, were speeding out for the B ark Ilills. They had learned of the course taken by Dr. Blanchard and his family, and steam and stage enabled th- m to get to the mountains while the train under Cap tain Brandon was drawing it.s slow length across the se< rching plains. They met with lienry Kyle and Font Robb at Deadwood and by them were intro duced to Bonton's gang, as these out laws were called. The brot hers congratulated themselves 011 their good luck. They found the tools they needed already to their hand. The half formed plans took definite shape when they met with the outlaws. The crimes from which cowardice might make them shrink iu the east here be came the easiest possibilities. TheyL*nt Henry Kyle and Font Robb to spy out the train, and the result has already been given. "We can have them in our power," gaid Tom Bliss when he had Henry Kyle out of hearing. "Yes, but tho job will not be easy." "The doctor has lots of money." "So I understand. But I say, Bliss, yon can have all the money; for me, 1 am going to have the eldest daughter." "Alice!" exclaimed Tom Bliss. "Yes, Alice, or I'll die trying," re plied Henry Kyle. "Well, Mr. Kyle," said Tom, trying to smile, but making a wretched failure of the effort, "you and I can't differ about a small matter when we are agreed about many great ones. I hope we shall always be friends. If we are not, it shall not lie for the want of a strong desire on my part. "That is all right, Mr. Bliss. lam as anxious fur harmony as any man in this outfit, but I want to see through your motive if I can," said Henry Kyle. "I am willing to explain any thing you do not understand," responded Tom Bliss, and ho smiled again mid stroked his rusty mustache. "But, Mr. Kyle, you should have made your inquiries before you took my money and began khis job." "I have so far done my work. " "True. Now the point is, aro you willing to continue the work under the •MFc can have them In t,ur puuxr," taid Tom HI las. same conditions? If you why, 1 shall be glad to mako your reward com mensurate! with your efforts. If vou arc not, no harm lias been done." Tom Bliss stopped, for Font Robfc came up, and not knowing that he wa.- intruding on a private conversation oi perhaps not earing for it—all Bouton'j men did pretty much as they pleased and claimed to have no secrets, and so there e-onld be no privacy—he called out: "If you chaps want anything tc eat, you'd better come over. Thar ain't to much coe>kcd, and the boys is jist a-wadin in." Font Robb, to make sure of getting his own share, had carried a large piece of broiled venison in his hand, which he began devouring the moment he c< ased speaking. "Have any of tho scouts come in?" asked Henry Kyle as he turned to walk back to the lire with Tom Bliss. "Black Eagle, the Shoshone, is back. He Bays that Captain Brandon's party is in camp on the Blue Water." "Then he'll rest the-ro for some days before going on." ' 'Of course*, 1 lank. As there's no good grass for 180 miles to the west, that's what he'll do; but if he was only u prophet or the son of a prophet, ho'd push ahead," said Robb. "I do not think ho is gifted in that way, but it won't do to underrate him on that account. I'd rather have auy man iu the mountains opposed to me than this same Captain Brandon," said Henry Kyle as they reached tho circle of the outlaws about the blazing eampfire. CHAPTER IV. Captain Brandon and Alice Blanch ard were admiring the scenery from the top of a hill overlooking their camp when Howard came up and informed them that a young man had come into the camp who wished to see the captain. They descended the hill and made their way to the place where the pillars e>f smoke marked the sight of tho camp. As they nejmxl the teuta and huts a young man of graceful form and strong, handsome face came out to meet them He extended his hand to the captain— the other hand held his hat—and asked: "Are you Captain Brandon?" "I am," was tho reply. "I have ridden fast to seo you, sir," said tho young man. "My name it Louis Kyle." L• 11 i Kyi.' r« leased Captain Brandon's hand, and a Mush of modest confusion covered his handsome face as be felt the eyes of Alice Blanc hard were on him. "Kyle! Did you say your name was Kyle?" asked the eaptain, his hand to his e;ir and his head bent forward. "Yes, sir." "You look as if you might be a broth er of Henry Kyle." "I am," replied Louis, and the blu-h on the down covered cheeks deepened. "You live with your father far back in the heart of th) mountains?" "Yes, captain, and I have lived there since my earliest recollections. " "And you say you have ridden hard?" "Very hard, sir." "Then you must eat and rest. After that you can tell me the object of vonr visit. In the meantime let me say that you are welcome to our camp, no matter what your object may be. " Captain Brandon turned and intro duced the doctor and his children, Clara having joined them as they entered the camp. to the forms that rul« in society, but with a courtliness that was natural and graceful, Louis Kylo: shook hands with each, and if he held Alice's hand a little longer than he diil the others it was because he was so magnetized by the touch, so fascinated by the beauty of her form and face, us to be wholly unconscious of the act. Bowing by way ple.'' ' 'Good again.'' "A dozen good rifles can keep the gang at bay.'' "Until all our provisions are exhaust ed?" "Yes, if you cannot get help in the meantime." "But where can we look for help?" "I will And it," said Louis Kyle, clinching his hands, while his eyes blazed with resolution. "But where canyon find it?" asked the captain, who still maintained his quiet but deeply interested manner. "My father will come to the rescue. " "He is only one man. " "Aye, but he is a giant in strength and a lion at heart. We have a dozen Indians and half breeds on our place., on every one of whom wo can count to the death. These are all armed. But I should not wholly rely on them. I should send couriers asking for aid to tho mining camps, 00 miles to the northwest, and to the military posts at K«xjgh and on the Yellowstone." "Yon aid a born soldier; but your plsuis involve a long time, do they not?" "Yes, to a man starting it would l>o a long time, but it would not be so long to strong, well fed men battling for their lives and the honor of their wom en," said Ijouis Kyle with an increase of energy and earnestness. "When do you intend returning?" "Not till my horse is rested." "About dark?" and the captain look ed out at the sun sloping westward. ' 'lt will bo better after dark. " So expeditious were Alice and her sis ter that in a very short time Louis Kyle was set before the very best dinner that the camp afforded and largo enough to satisfy the appetite of a starved giant. Had his real purpose in coming been suspected, the women—they were nearly all young—would not have stood there laughing and declaiing that the stranger was one of the handsomest men they had seen since leaving home. The sun seemed resting in a canopy of opaline clouds on the crest of the western mountains when Louis emerged from tho tent Ho great was tho change wrought in these few hours that he could searely credit his eyes. Tho tents were down and the arbors scattered about. The corral was up in a semicircle by the river's side, and all the stock were inside of it, with the wagons chained about the central point, where the stock ade was being erected. The people were working like leavers and with a cool ness that surprised and delighted the young man. The tent in whicli he had been sleeping was down and removed within the stone inclosure five minutes after be hud left it. "You fee we are acting on your ad vice," said the captain without stopping in his work of rolling and lifting the stones into place. ISTo. 32 i n"P> tn«' precaution may not be necessary," said Louis, lending a hand, "but I d > not think the work will be finished too so^n." "And yon are determined to leave os tonight?" "1 must." "But think of the danger!" "I do, but it is of the danger to you, lot to myself. You will need help, and It must l>e forthcoming." "Help is desirable. But what if you fall into th hands of these d'-cperadoes?" "I must Kuard against that," said L >uis coolly. "But is not the danger great?" "Very great, captain; but it will be no greater tonight than it was when I •ame here in the full blaze of the sun. Those fellows know where I am. Let them get me if they can." "You cannot travel as well by night." "I can travel better. My horse and I know every rock, stream and defile from the Yellowstone geysers to the place where Custer anil his gallant fellows died on the Big Horn. Trust me for that." As they conversed the sun went down, and it became so dark that v. t rk on the nearly completed structi. o had to be suspended. It is surpvLdn." hew soon the most inexperienced wil. per ceive the necessities of such an ;ner gency. No one thought of sta.' I .ng a fire or making a light. Even the chil dren hushed their prattle as they lay on the blankets inside the defense. As soon as the stars were ont Louis Kyle shook hands with the immigrants—Alice's was the last hand lie took—and bidding Alice's teas the last hatul he took. them be of good cheer he sprang on his horse, forced him at the corral wall and flow over. A dead silence fell upon the camp. Men and women bent to catch the rapid beating of the horse's hoofs along the face of the mountain behind them. Ten minutes passed. To Alice it seemed an age, for to her the most prominent figure of tho day was miss ing. "Hark!" criedone. "What was that?" No answer was given. There was no need of an answer to tell them what it was. Tho honest heart stopped for an instant, then beat more rapidly with dread as thrill cries and the roar of ri fles came from the direction which Louis Kyle had talien. ~ [OONTIVCED.] I THERE is nothing binding upon any Democrat to vote for tho ticket nominated at Chicago. CHAIRMAN - Faulkner should not be too hard on his young candidate. It is asking to® much of Mr. Bryan that he should "bottle up some of tho personal Joy he foelB." Youthful spirits must out. It would have been much better for the Democratic party had its platform con tained but a single plank, and that plank free silver, as there are many Democrats who could stand free silver much better than they can swallow the Popullstic rot which constitutes the rest of the plutform. To sound money Democrats one thing too evidont for question; If they wouli savo tho country from financial ruin they must first of all make sure, if possible, that tho power of the government is not seized upon by the crazy Populists and anarchists that controlled the late Chicago convention. THE Chicago platform Is composed of false pretenses. They were framed for the purpose of drawing the attention of the reader away from the dangerous and revo lutionary mothods and doctrine therein advocated, and no Democrat or Republi can who holds honesty and honor in high esteem, no business man who desires to prosper and has the prosperity of the country at heart can support it. TUP. Hon Joe Sibley, of Pennsylvania, "found it absolutely Impossible to get to Ft Louis" and the Hon. Jonah Jeremiah Mott's silver convention, but sent his best wishes, an easy contribution to make. Since Mr. Sibley escaped from Chicago without having the nomination for vice president thrust upon him, he has made it a rule to keep away from conventions. Writing letters from Pennsylvania is safer and cheaper. THK Republican jwrty is not fighting Democracy In this canvass. There is no Democracy in the Chicago platform ex cept Its opening declarations that are im mediately defined by the specific measures that it pledges the party to. The platform was made to suit the I'opulists and It isao expression of Populist opinions except where It is the work of Altgeld, and at those points it declares for that anarchy which he loves so well. Will Support McKlnloy and Gold. The Free Press will bolt tho ticket, and support McKinley and gold.—Helyoke (Mass ) Free Press. Cannot Accrpt Men or Measures. The Times will not. cannot, advocate the adoption und acceptance by the Amer ican people of the Populistic, anarchistic, and anti-Democratic meas uces «#TI men pr> ented for indorsement by the Chicago convention.—Louisville (Ky^vimos. Repudiation of Honest Obligation!. The Lewlston Sun will not support the platform anil nominees of the silver Dem ocratic convention. '1 ho "acceptance of a silver platform, The Hun honestly believes, would bring disaster and panic. It moans the repudiation of the country's honest obligations.—Lewlston ( Me.) Sun. What the Convention Could Not Do. The ardent advocates of the whito metal can unseat regular sound money Demo cratic delegates . they can ignore the two third- rule, they can. as they did lu thlfl stat. throttle the voice of the minority and bind them under protest with the unit rule, but there are some things they can not do They cannot, thank Coil, change our honest convictions or compel us to cabtour ballot for any candidate.—Alex andria (Va.) Times.