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<l [olsoning. Hood'i 111
Pills stimulate the stomach. ™
rouse t i liver, cure veadache. dizriness. con
stipation. etc. as cents. Sold by all druggists.
The -tfy Pills to Utt with Hood's Sarsaparilla.
MILLER'S
GREAT
88-CENT
SALE.
WOULD YOU BAKE MONEY?
IF SO,
Attend This Sale
$1.50 Men's Shoes reduced to 08c
$1.25 Men's Shoes reduced to BSc
SI.OO Men's Shoes reduced to 88c
$1.25 Boy's Shoes reduced to 88c
OUR LEADERS GO At 88c.
Men's Oil Grain 2-buckel shoes 88c
Men's Oil Grain Creole Shoes 88c
Men's S Kip Brogans 88c
Ladies calf and oil grain shoes 88c
IT IS WONDERFUL
WHAT 88c WILL DO
Men's Ball Shoes reduced to Bf-c
Youths' Bicycle Shoes 88c
Misses' Strap Sandals go at 88c
Ladies' Fine Dongola Oxfords 88c
Have YOll Got 88c?
»
If you have, bring it to us
and we will give you more for it
than you ever got before. If you
have not got it, borrow it and at
tend this *
Great 88 Cent Sale,
AT
Butler's Progressive Shoe House.
2i5 South Main St., BUTLER PA
C. E. MILLER,
REP>;KJNG PROMPTLY DONE.
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SB price*
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All iw Jaros Hy^ie^ic
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All gradr of rnderwer at very
low prices.
Largest stock of hats and
furnishings for gentleman ni the
country. An inspection will prove
this to any ones satisfacture.
Colbert & Dale.
242 S. Main St., Butler, enn'a
The Place to Buy
GAS COOK
ING AND HEATING STOVES,
GAS BURNERS AND FIX
fURES, HOSE, HATH TUBS,
ENAMEL AND
IMPROVFD WELSHBACH CAS
BU RNER,
W. H. O'BRIEN LON
-107 East Jefferson St.
Li. c. wioic
DSALKE IX
Rough and Worked Lumber
OP ALm kinds
Doors, Sash, Blinds, Mouldings,
Shingles and Lath
Always In Stock.
LIME. HAIR AND PLASTKft
Offlcb opposite P. AjW. Depot,
PUTLKK
YOU CAi\ i'IND ,
1 r It. J" I'lTrtidMl'.ll 1.1 I'.t A" ■ 4
SsaXREKIfrGKN BP.Oo.
will 'am (ml lor firm tiling tu Ui*tni >4*
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 <jf apology for what he
was about to do, he said to the captain:
"Could I speak with you privately?"
"Certainly," replied the captain.
"Come this way."
"I have come to warn you of a great
danger. It is one that you may be
guarded against, but I doubt if the or
dinary precaution will meet it Bouton's
gang and fully a score of renegade Indi
ans arc in the mountains to the south,
and they are hastening this way with all
the speed of their horses."
"How do you know this?"
"I cannot explain it to you now,"
said Louis Kyle, averting his face.
"But you should give me your rea
sons for your fears an well as the warn
ing, " urged the captain.
"Do not ask me to do that. I want
you to believe in my integrity. To ex
plain all might lead you to doubt all,
for the honor of one's own name should
be very precious."
"I understand you. Here, give me
your hand again." The captain took the
young man's hand and continued, "It
is a terrible thing, a very terrible thing,
for brothers to bo arrayed one against
the other."
"I would die to savo my brother,"
said Louis excitedly, "but better that
he and all of tlio name should perish
than that a great wrong should be dona "
"I agree with you. Better that all
should perish than that a wrong should
be done. Better the name should be
blotted out if its purity cannot bo main
tained. But pardon the digression.
When men reach my age, they are apt
to philosophize. I do not want to be
considered garrulous,"
"Nor are you. Your thoughts, Cap
tttill Hruiulr.n, aru B»u»h au I think.
But you have warned me not to speak
of myself when more important mat
ters are concerned."
"Yon mistake me," interposed the
captain. But the young man waved his
hand and continued:
"From the fresh trails I passed not
two hours ago I am certain that wo are
now under the eyes of Bouton's gang. "
"You could not be mistuken?"
"No. His Indian allies are scouting
within rifle range and waiting for their
leader to come out."
"And when do you think they will be
here?''
"Before another sun rises. "
"And what would yoa advise?" The
captain spoke in a lower tone than
usual, and, bending forward, he anx-
iously watched the young man's face.
"If there were time, I would advise
you to push rapidly to the west and so
shake these hounds from your trail. "
"But do you think, if we were to
break camp now and push on with all
speed, that v,* could do this?"
"I do not."
"What then?"
"I would at once build a strong cor
ral on the uank of the river and place
within it all your wagous, stock and
other property."
"That is "jensible."
"And within thq corral I should erect
a defense commanding every foot of the
inclosure und large enough to hold all
your pe< >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.