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4 5 6

" HE WATCHED THE ROBBER AND HIS VICTIM RIDE QUIETLY
AWAY."— Page 162. [Frontispiece.]

/. ^«

"v*i

i|^^

ePI^hI

^.:-:

Author c

OARORN
" RED

JAM]

[CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE

A TALE OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES

BY li. M. BALLANTYNE,

kuTHOR or "BLOWN TO BITS:" "THE CORAr ibtax,..- k

WEST, THE RED ERIC;" "FREAKS ON THE FELLS:" "THE YOUN«

BOIL^^ 'T'' "-«-««;" "THE BA^TeAv ^rTHF

boiler;" "post haste;" "black ivory;" "the

inoN horse; " "fiqhtino the flames ; "

"the lifeboat;" etc. etc.

mith illxi^txntwm bs the Sixtthot.

14043?

LONDON:
IJAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BEENERS STREET.

Property^otj^^thfterUbrary
University of Waterloo

iiiys

PEEFACE.

Having got nothing prefatorial to say, 1 avail
myself of this blank page to say so.

Harrow, 1890

K. M. B.

SI'

:4l*

CHAP.
1

ii:

VII

VIII,

XII,
XIII.
XIV.

CONTENTS.

9M9

CHAP. I.— INTRODUCES Till IlEUO J

11.— TUB 8HIPWRRCK jj

111.— "it's an ill wind that BLiVVVS NABBODY GUID," . 86

IV.— DRIFTING ON THK HOCKS 4g

V,— ALL THINOS TO ALL MKN, Q4

VI.— DISASTER, STARVATION, AND DEATH, ... 76

VII.— ADBIKT ON THK SEA, • . 1 . . . . gl

VIII.— INGRATITUDE, >'•...,, M

IX.— SHANK REVEALS SOMETHING MORE ok HIS CHAR-

^CTKR 102

X.— HOME-COMING AND UNEXPECTED SURPRISES, . , Hg

XI.— TELLS OP HAPPY MEETINGS AND SERIOUS CON-
SULTATIONS 229

XIX,— CHANGES THK SCENE CONSIDERABLY ! . . , 142

Xin.-HUNKY BEN IS SORELY PERPLEXED, . . . . 155

Xn\~THE HAUNT OV THE OUTLAWS, Iflg

Vl OONTRNTft.

XV.— Lo«T AMD rouiii>, . . . 175

THR llANCM Itf DANQRII 1%$

XTIL— THR At^RM AND PHRI'AllATIitNH »'«>H lIKrRlfCi, 198

Itni.— 'DKrKKCH OV TIIK RANCH or HOAHINO HULL, . . 308

XIX.— TIIK BKMCl'R AND ITU CoWHKqt'RKCKK, ... 381

XX.— JAKK THM rLlNT IN UlfriCULTIRM, . . . . 3|8

XXI.— TILL8 or A CItl'Kr. DKKI), ANU MHOWH HoW MrS-

TKUIorHLV HtfNKY HKN HRtlAVKP, . . JMS

XXIL— Till: CAVK OK TMK (Mi LAWS INVAUKI) IIV (IIIOSTH

AND U.S. Tuuurs, 205

XXIir.— TUB Tll(K)l'H OUTWITTKI) IIV THK HCOUT AND HIH

FUIENDH 269

XXIV,— THK MKKTINO OV OLD flUKNUb JN CUHIOUd U1RCUM>

BTANCR8, 276

XXV.— SHOWS HOW THK 8KAMAN WAS 8KNT ON A DKHCATB

MISSION AND HOW HR KAKKD, .... 287

XXVI.— THKAT8 OF VAU10U8 INTKUESTINO MATTBIW, AND

TKLLS OK NEWS FROM HOMK, .... 306

XXVn.— HUNKY BEN AND CHARLIE GET HEYOND THKIR DKPTH,

AND DUCK TOM GETS HKVOND RECALL, . . 323

XXVIIL— CHASE, CAI-TUIIB, AND END OF JAKK THE FLINT, . 332

XXIX.— THEY RETURN TO THE RANCH OF ROARING BULL,
WHKRE SOMETHING SKHIOUS HAPPENS TO DICK
DARVALL, 349

■

CtUNTKNTH.

vii

21)8

382

XXX.-CIIAMUKN THK MCMfN iOMRWHAT VlDt.lTTf.r AND

Hiiows ntm HiRo IN A NKw r.iaiiT, . . , 160

XXXI.— KAII.I UK AND A N»,\V »«CliNT,
XXXII.— ■VOCBM AND rUTtrHR VtA«U, .
XXXIII. -aWKKTWATRIt iii.t'rr, .
XXXIV.— TIIK LAKT,

878

406

AND

242
26S

276

287

30tf

323
332

349

LIST 0¥ ILLUSTEATIONS.

!!i

VIGNETTE TITLE

" HE WATCHED THE ROBBER AND HIS VICTIM

RIDE QUIETLY AWAY'* (p. 162), . Frontiapiect

"0 GOD! CAN IT BE TRUE?" . . facing page lU

"NOW, BUTTERCUP, GIVE IT 'EM-HOT,". . 217

"AND RAN TO THE OPENING WHERE HE SAW

THE TROOPERS STILL RIDING ABOUT," . 272

"AMMUNITION'S GETTING LOW," SAID DICK, 304

lUN

I' i'

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE

A TALE OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCES THE HERO.

To be generally helpful was one of the chief
points m the character of Charlie Brooke.

He was evidently born to aid mankind. He
began by helping himself to everything in life that
seemed at all desirable. This was natural, not
selfish.

At first there were few things, apparently, that
did seem to his infant mind desirable, for his
earhest days were marked by a sort of chronic
crossness that seemed quite unaccountable in one
so healthy; but this was eyentuaUy traced to the
influence of pins injudiciously disposed about the
person by nurse. Possibly this experience may have
tended to develop a spirit of brave endurance, and
might perhaps account for the beautiful modifica-
tions of character that were subsequently observed
in him. At all events, sweet, patient amiability

•I
1$

CITARLiE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

i ''

was a prevailing feature in the boy long before the
years of infancy were over, and this heavenly aspect
of him was pleasantly diversified, in course of time,
by occasional displays of resolute— we might almost
say heroic — self-will, which proved a constant
source of mingled pride and alarm to his widowed
mother.

From a very early period of life little Charlie
manifested an intense desire, purpose, and capacity
for what may be called his life-work of rescuing
human beings from trouble and danger. It became
a passion with him as years rolled on, and was
among the chief means that brought about the
changes in his chequered career.

Appropriately enough he began— almost in baby-
hood — by rescuing himself !

It happened thus. One day, when he had reached
the immature age of five, he was left in the nursery
for a few moments in company with a wash-tub, in
which his mother had been cleansing the household
linen.

Mrs. Brooke, it may be remarked, although in the
middle ranks of life, was very much below the
middle ranks in financial prosperity, and had there-
fore to perform much household drudgery.

Charlie's earnest desire to please and obey his
mother constantly came into collision with that self-
will to which we have referred. Separately, these
qualities may perhaps work quietly, at least as

: before the
euly aspect
rse of time,
ight almost
a constant
is widowed

;tle Charlie
id capacity
of rescuing

It became
I, and was

about the

st in baby-
ad reached
he nursery
ash-tub, in
household

ugh in tlie
below the
liad there-

I obey his
I that self-
tely, these
5 least as

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 8

regards their possessor, but unitedly they form a
Puxture which is apt to become explosive in early

"Don;t touch the tub, Charlie; I'll be back
directly, said Mrs. Brooke, as she was leaving the
nursery. "Don't even go near it."
"No, muvver, I won't."

He spoke with much decision, for he adored
water--not to drink but to play with^and seemed
to realise the danger of his position, and the
necessity for self-control.

The temptation to avail himself of the chance
howevei^ was almost too much for him. Feelinc:
hat an internal conflict was pending, he toddled to
the fire, turned his back to it A la paterfamilias,
and glared at the tub, resolved, come what might, to
be"dood." But fate was against him f

Suddenly he became aware that something more
than radiated heat was operating in rear He
glanced behind. His cotton tunic was in flames!
In he twinkling of an eye he was seated in the
wash-tub, his hands clasped in horror as he thouo-ht
of his guilt, and the flames thoroughly extinguished r
I The solemn glare and pursed mouth with which
pie met his mother's look of blank amazement may
be imagined but cannot be described-he looked so
quiet, too, and so evidently contented, for the warm
[water was congenial '

II
'J

" Charlie ! did I not say that-

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" Yes, muwer, but I 'm bu'nt."
The fearsome and dripping black patch which
presented itself to the agonised mother when she
lifted him out of the tub sufficiently enlightened
her and exonerated the child, but her anxiety was
not relieved till she had stripped him naked and
ascertained for certain that no scrap of his fair skin
had been injured.

This may be said to have been the real com-
mencement of Charlie Brook's career. We mention
it chiefly to show that our hero was gifted with
some power of ready resource even in childhood.
He was also gifted with a fearless and daring dis-
position, a quietly enthusiastic spirit, a modest
mien, and a strong muscular body.

Of course these admirable qualities were not fully
developed in childhood, but the seeds were there.
In due time the plants came up and the flowers
bloomed.

We would here caution the reader— especially
the youthful reader— against supposing that from
this point our hero was engaged in rescue-work, and
continued at it ever after without intermission.
Like Samson, with his great strength, he exer-
cised his powers only now and then— more than
half unconscious of what was in him — and on
many occasions without any definite purpose in
view.
His first act of heroism was exercised, when

|f<{
p ii

OF THE SEA AND HIE ROCKIES. 5

he had reached the age of nine, iu behalf of a
kitten.

It was on a magnificent summer day, soon after
he had been sent to the village school, that the
mcident occurred. Charlie was walking at the
tune with one of his school-fellow, named Shank

Leather.

Shank was a little older than himself, and a good
enough fellow in his way, but much given to boast-
...g, and possessed of very few of the fine qualities
that characterised our hero. The two were out for
a hohday-ramble, a long way from home, and had
reached a river on the banks of which they sat
down to enjoy their mid-day meal. The meal was
simple, and carried in their pockets. It consisted of
wo mch-and-a-half-thick slices of bread, with two
lumps of cheese to match.

"I wish this river was nearer home," said Shank
Leather, as they sat down under a spreading oak to

"Why?" asked his companion, with a felicitous
brevity and straightforwardness which occasionally
marked his conversation.
•■Because then I would have a swim in it everyday "
Can you swim ?" asked CharUe, a slight eleva-
tion of the eyebrows indicating surprise not un-
mingled with ao.v^xation-for our hero was a hero-
worshipper. He could not well have been a hero
Otherwise!

CHAHLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

"Of course I can swim," returned Shank; "that
is to say, a little ; but I feel sure that I 'II bo a
splendid swimmer some day."

His companion's look of admiration increased.

"What '11 you take to drink?" asked Shank,
drawing a large flask from the pocket in which he
had concealed it up to that moment with the express
purpose of giving his companion a pleasant surprise.

It may be well to add that the variety of
drinks implied in his question was imaginary.
Shank had only one flask, but in the exuberance of
convivial generosity he quoted his own father— who
was addicted to "the bottle."
"What is it?" asked Brooke, in curious expectancy.
" Taste and see," said his friend, uncorking the
flask.

Charlie tasted, but did not " see," apparently, for
he looked solemn, and tasted again.

"It's liquorice-water," said Shank, with the look
of one who expects approval. " I made it myself! "

Nauseous in the extreme, it might have served
the purpose of an emetic had not the digestion of
the boys been ostrich-like, but, on hearing how it
came into existence, Charlie put it a third time to
his lips, took a good gulp, and then, nodding his
head as he wiped his mouth with his cuff, declared
that it was " wonderful."

" Yes, isn't it ? There 's not many fellows could
make stuff like that."

Ill
II >!in|l

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 7

"No, indeed," assented the other heartily, as he
attacked the bread and cheese. "Does your lather
know you made itl"

"Oh yes, and he tasted it too-ho'd taste any-
thing in the shape of drink^but he spat it out, and
then washed his mouth with brandy an' water
Mother took some too, and she said she had tasted
worse drinks ; and she only wished that father
would take to it. That made father laugh heartily
Then I gave some to little May, and she said it was
'So nice.'"

"Ay. That was like little May," remarked
Charlie, with a quiet laugh; "she'd say that a
mess o' tar an' shoe-blacking was nice if you made
it. But I say. Shank, let's see you swim. I'd
give anything if I could swim. Do, like a brick
as you are. There 's a fine deep hole here under the
bank."

He pointed to a pool in the river where the
gurgling eddies certainly indicated considerable
depth of water, but his friend shook his head.

" Ko, Charlie," he said, « you don't understand
the danger as I do. Don't you see that the water
runs into the hole at such a rate that there 's a
tree-mendous eddy that would sweep any man off
his legs "

"But you're goin' to swim, you know," inter-
rupted his friend, "an' have o-ot ta be of*" -oti- ^—-^
anyhow I"

I *

ClfAItLIK TO TIIK liESCUE : A TALK

ill'

"That 'a all yow know," returned the other. "If
a man 's swept round by an eddy, don't you know,
he '11 be banged against things, and then the water
rushes out of the hole with such a gush, an' goes
thunderin* down below, over boulders and stones,
and — an' — don't you see 1 "

" That 's true, Shank ; it does look dangerous, even
for a man that can swim."

He put such emphasis on the "man" that his
comrade glanced sharply at him, but the genuine
innocence of our hero's face was too obvious to
suggest irony. He simply saw that the use of the
word man pleased his friend, therefore he used it.

Conversation was cut short at this point by the
sudden appearance on the scene of two strangers—
a kitten and a dos.

The assertion that "dogs delight to bark and
bite" is, perhaps, too sweeping, but then it was
made by a poet, and poets have an acknowledged
licence — though not necessarily a dog-licence.
X Certain it is, however, that this dog— a mongrel cur
—did bark with savage delight, and display all
its teeth, with an evident desire to bite, as it
chased a delirious tortoise-shell kitten towards the
river.

It was a round, soft, lively kitten, with the hair
on its little body sticking straight out, its heart in
its mouth, and horror in its lovely eyes. It made
straight for the tree under which the dinner was

<>l'' THK SEA AND THE ItOCKlES. Q

going on. Both boys started ui,. Enoniies in front
and rear ! Even a human general might have stood
appalled. Two courses were still open-right and
left. The kitten turned right and went wrong, fur
that was the river-side. Ko time for thou^dit !
Barking cur and yelling boys I It reached°the
edge of the pool, spread out all its legs with a
catterwaul of despair, and went headlong into the
water.

Shank Leather gazed-something like glee min-
j,'led with his look of consternation. Not so our
Hero. Pity was bursting his bosom. With one
liiagnificent bound he went into the pool, caught the
kitten in his right hand, and carried it straight to
the bottom. Kext moment he re-appeared on the
I surface, wildly beating the water with one hand
and holding the kitten aloft in the otlier. Shank
to do him justice, plunged into the river up to his
waist, but his courage carried him no further
There he stuck, vainly holding out a hand and
shouting for help.

But no help was near, and it seemed as if the pair
of strugglers were doomed to perish when a pitiful
eddy swept them both out of the deep pool into the
foammg rapid below. Shank followed them in
howling despair, for here things looked ten times
worse: his comrade being tossed from billow to
jbreaker, was turned heels over head, bumped against
Moulders, stranded on shallows, overturned and

CHAULIE TO THE UESCUE : A TALE

<i I

swept nwny again—but ever with tho left arm
beating wildly, and tho right liand with tho kitten,
held high in air.

But the danger, except from being dashed against
tho boulders, was not really as great as it seemed,
for every time that Brooko got a foothold for an
instant, or was driven on a rock, or was surged,
right-end-iip, on a shoot of water, he managed to
gasp a little air— including a deal of wateh The
kitten, of course, had the same chances, and, being
passive, perhaps suffered less.

At tho foot of the rapid they were whirled, as if
contemptuously, into an eddy. Shank was tliere, as
deep as he dared venture. He even pushed in up to
the arm-pits, and, catching his comrade by the hair,
dragged him to bank.

" Charlie, I 've saved ye ! " he exclaimed, as
his friend crawled out and sat down.

"Ay, an' you 've saved the kitten too I" replied his
friend, examining the poor animal.
" It 's dead," said Shank ; " dead as mutton."
" No, only stunned. No wonder, poor beast ! "
With tender care the rescuer squeezed the water
from the fur of the rescued. Then, pulling open his
vest and shirt, he was about to place the kitten in
his bosom to warm it.

"No use doin* that," said Leather. "You're as
wet an' nigh as cold as itself"

"That's true. Sit down here," returned Brooke,

OF THE SEA AUD THE ROCKIE«. 1%

in a tono of commnnd which surprised hia couirado
"Open your shirt."

Again Shank obeyed wondoringly. Next moment
ho gave a gasp as the cold, wet creature was thrust
I into his warm bosom.

"It makes me shiver all over/' he said.
" Never mind," replied his friend coolly, as ho
got up and wrung the water out of hie own
I garments.

"It's beginning to move, Charlie," said Shank
I after a few minutes.
" Give it here, then."

The creature was indeed showing feeble symptoms

of revival, so Brooke -whose bosom was not only

recovering its own heat, but was beginning to warm

the wet garments-thrust it into his own breast, and

! the two friends set off homeward at a run.

At the nearest house they made inquiry as to the
owner of the kitten, but failed to find one Our
hero therefore resolved to carry it home. Lon-
before that haven was reached, however, his clothes
were nearly dry, and the rescued one was purrina
sweetly, in childlike innocence-all the horrors"
sufferings, and agonies of the past forgotten, appar'
ently, in the enjoyment of the present.

^ '■i

ClUliUK TO TUK REBCUI: A TAU

CHAPTEll ir.

We hnvo no iiitoiitiuii of carrying our r- uder on
step by stop tlirough nil the adventures and deeds
of Cliarlie Brooke. It is necessary to liasten over
his boyhood, leaving untold the many battles fought,
risks run, and dangers encountered.

He did not cut much of a figure at the village

school- though he did his best, and was fairly

successful — but in the playground ho reigned

supreme. At football, cricket, gymnastics, and,

ultimately, at swimming, no one could come near

him. This was partly owing to his great physical

strength, for, as time passed by he shot upwards

and outwards in a way that surprised his com-

panions and amazed his mother, who was a dis-

tinctly little woman— a n. -racoful little wom.in

—with, like her stalwart- - h .nodest opinion of

herself.

As a matter of course, Charlie's school-fellows al-
most worshipped him, and he was always so willing!
to help and lead them in all cases of danger or

OF TnK 81 A AND THE liOCKIEH. 1|

moTgenoy. that "Charlie to the wucue r became
qmto a fftmlliar cry on the playgtouncl. Indeed it
would have been equally appropriate in the school
for the Iftd never seemed to be go thoroughly
ham «a when he was assisting some boy leiia
capable than himself to master his lessona.

About the time that Charlie left school, while
yet a stnplinK. he had the shoulders of Samson the
diest of Hercules, and the limbs of Apollo He
was tall also-over six feet-but his unus.ml breadth
deceived people as to this till they stood close to
him. Fair hair, close and curly, with bright blue
eyes and a permanent look of gravr, benignity, com-
pletos our description of him. > — ~ —

Kowing. shooting, fushing. boxing, and swimming
seemed to come naturally to him. and all of them
Hi a superlative degree. Swimming was. perhaps
Ills most loved amusement, and in this art he soon
far outstripped his friend Leather. Some men are
endowed with exceptional capacities in regard to
water. We have seen men go into the sea warm
and como out warmer, even in cold weather. Ex-
perience teaches that the reverse is usually true
of mankind in northern regions, yet we once saw
.1 man enter the sea to all appearance a white
luman being, after remaining in it upwards of an
liour, and swimming away from shore, like a vessel
outward bound, he came back at last the colour
or a boiled lobster !

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

I lliillii'

Such exceptional qualities did Charlie Brooke
possess. A South Sea Islander might have envied
but could not have excelled him.

It was these qualifies that-docided the course of
his career just after he left school.

"Charlie," said his mother, as they cit eating
their mid-day meal alone one day — the mother
being, as we have said, a widow, and Charlie an
only child— "what do you think of doing, now that
you have left school ? for you know my income
renders it impossible that I should send you to
college."

" I don't know what to think, mother. Of course
I intend to do something. If you had only in-
fluence with some one in power who could enable a
fellow to get his foot on the first round of any sort
of ladder, something might be done, for you know
I'm not exactly useless, though I can't boast of
brilliant talents, but "

" Your talents are brilliant enough, Charlie," said
his mother, interrupting ; " besides, you have been
sent into this world for a purpose, and you may be
sure that you will discover what that purpose is,
and receive help to carry it out if you only ask God
to guide you. JSTot otherwise," she added, after a
pause.

" Do you really believe, mother, that every one i
who is born into the world is sent for a purposej
and with a specific work to do ?"

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 15

"I do indeed, Charlie."

" What ! all the cripples, invalids, imbeciles, even
the very infants who are born to wail out their sad
lives in a few weeks, or even days ?"

"Yes— all of them, without exception. To sup-
pose the opposite, and imagine that a wise, loving,
and almighty Being would create anything for m
purpose seems to me the very essence of absurdity.
Our only difficulty is that we do not always see the
purpose. All things are ours, but we must ask if
we would have them."

"But I have asked, mother," said the youth, with
an earnest flush on his brow. " You know I have
done so often, yet a way has not been opened up.
I believe in yoicr faith, mother, but I don't quite
beheve in my own. There surely must be some-
thing wrong— a screw loose somewhere."

He Idid down his knife and fork, and looked out

at the window with a wistful, perplexed expression.

"How I wish," he continued, « that the lines had

been laid down for the human race more distinctly,

so that we could not err ! "

"And yet," responded his mother, with a peculiar

I look, " such lines as are obviously laid down we

' don't always follow. For instance, it is written,

'Ask, and it shall be given you,' and we stop there,'

but the sentence does not stop : ' Seek, and ye shall

[find 'implies carp. ar>ri f.rmiVji.^. <f"^^<.i _i -, i ■,■. ,

r -1 — -ivu^^iu, ri.nuek, tiau ic snail be

opened unto you ' hints at perseverance, does it not?"

^■j

I tM

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" There 's something in that, mother," said Charlie,
casting another wistful glance out of the window.'
"Come, I will go out and 'seek'! I gee Shank-
Leather waiting for me. We agreed to go to the
shore together, for we both like to watch the waves
roaring in on a breezy day like this."

The youth rose and began to encase his bulky
frame in a great pilot-cloth coat, each button of
wliich might have done duty as an afternoon tea-
saucer.

"I wish you would choose any companion to
walk with but young Leather," said the widow, with
a sigh. " He 's far too like his father to do you any
good."

"Mother, would you have me give up an old
playmate and school-fellow because he is not per-
fect r asked the youth in grave tones as he tied on
a sou'wester.

" Well, no— not exactly, but ,"

Not having a good reason ready, the worthy
woman only smiled a remonstrance. The stalwart
son stooped, kissed her and was soon outside, battling
with the storm— for what he styled a breezy day
was in reality a wild and stormy one.

Long before the period we have now reached
Mrs. Brooke had changed her residence to the sea-
coast in the small town of Sealford. Her cottage
stood in the centre of the village, about half-a-mile
..„^ ...{xoiv, axxu v;iOeu w uaac or ner bosom

friend, '^

her, pari

of her

the com]

also, to

comrades

might rej

When

found tha

him. Tl

had purf

old comra

iiccompan:

was destr

May, alth(

good, was

hood is le

when bor

spicuous, a

of flatness

manners, a

would not,

was ugly.

reached wh

a period in

ish, and ot

I former, anc

I But, after j

[increasing g

OF THE SEA AND TUB KOCKIES. 17

friend, M,«. leather, who had migrated along with
her partly to bo near her and partly for the sake
of her son Shank, who was anxious to retain
the companionship of his friend Brooke. Partly
also, to get her tippling husband away from' old
comrades and scenes, in the faint hope that she
might rescue him from the great curse of his life

When Charlie went out, as wo have said,' he
found tha. Shank had brought his sister May with
h.m. Thzs troubled our hero a good deal, for he
had purposed having a confidential talk with his
old comrade upon future plans and prospects, to the
accompaniment of the roaring sea, and a third party
was oestructive of such intention. Besides, poor
May, although exceedingly unselfish and sweet and
good, was at that transition period of life when girl-
hood IS least attractive-at least to young men •
when bones are obtrusive, and angles too con-
spicuous, and the form generally is too suggestive
of flatness and longitude; while shyness marks the
manners, and inexperience dwarfs the mind We
would not, however, suggest for a moment that May
was ugly. By no means, but she had indeed
reached what may be styled a plain period of life-
a period in which some girls become silently sheep-
ish, and others tomboyish ; May was among the
I former and therefore a drag upon conversation.
J iJat, after all, it mattered little, for the rapidly
increasing gale rendered speech nearly impossible.

;; •■■

.'t!

CIIAHUE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

ii.:;!

" It 's too wild a day for you, May," said Brooke,
as he shook hands with her ; " I wonder you care to
be out."

" She doesn't care to be out, but I wanted her to
come, and she *s a good obliging girl, so she came,"
said Shank, drawing her arm through his as they
pressed forward against the blast in the direction of
the shore.

Shank Leather had become a sturdy young fellow
by that time, but was much shorter than his friend.
There was about him, however, an unmistakable
look of dissipation—or, rather, the beginning of it —
which accounted for Mrs. Brooke's objection to him
as a companion for her son.

We have said that the cottage lay about half-a-
mile from the shore, which could be reached by a
winding lane between high banks. These effectually
shut out the view of the sea until one was close to
it, though, at certain times, the roar of the waves
could be heard even in Sealford itself.

Such a time was the present, for the gale had
lashed the sea into wildest fury, and not only did
the three friends hear it, as, with bent heads, they
forced their way against the wind, but they felt the
foam of ocean on their faces as it was carried inland
sometimes in lumps and flakes. At last they came
to the end of the lane, and the sea, lashed to its
wildest condition, lay before them like a sheet of
tortured foam.

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 19

all ev^I ': """" "°' 'P^'"'- ^'- could at

all events gaze, for she had superb brown eyes

and they glittered, just then, like glowing I '

f.om Its fastenings, and flew straight out behind

"Look! look there!" shouted her brother witli .
-d expression, as he pointed to a part of .;

Brit 'dSin' f. ""*" "'^ P"""'" -'^'--ed
7 c eanng the moisture from his eyes and

endeayouring to look steadily. ^ '

"She'll neyer weather it. See! the fishermen
re following her alongshore," cried young Leathe

d.op^g his sister's arm, and bounding away
^^^^Oh.dontleaye me behind, Shank," 'pleaded

Shank was beyond reeall, but our hero, who had
-'TorourdS'""^^-----

--«-o^wC^nXnra:::-t::rsS

CIIAllLIE TO THE RESCUE: A TALK

ll'iiiilii

sho was litho as a lizard and fleet as a young
colt.

A few minutes brought them to the level shore
where Brooke left May to shelter herself with some
lisher-wonien behind a low wall, while he ran along
to a spot where a crowd of lishermcn and old salts,
enveloped in oil-skins, were discussing the situation
as they leaned against the shrieking wind.

"Will she weather it, Grinder, think you?" he
asked of an elderly man, whose rugged features
resembled mahogany, the result of having bid
defiance to wind and weather for nigh half a cen-
tury.

" She may, Mr. Brooke, an' she mayn't," answered
the matter-of-fact man of the sea, in the gruff mono-
tone with which ho would have summoned all hands
to close reef in a hurricane. " If her tackle holds
she '11 do it. If it don't she won't."

" We *ve sent round for the rocket, anyhow," said
a smart young fisherman, who seemed to rejoice in
opposing his broad chest to the blast, and in listen-
ing to the thunder of the waves as they rolled into
the exposed bay in great battalions, chasing each
other in wild tumultuous fury, as if each were bent
on being first in the mad assault upon the shore.

"Has the lifeboat coxswain been called?" asked
Charlie, after a few minutes* silence, for the voice of
contending elements was too great to render con-
verse easy or agreeable.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 91

"Yes, sir," answered the man nearest to him,
" but she 's bin called to a wreck in Mussel Bay'
an' that brig will be all right or in Davy Jones's'
locker long aforo th' lifeboat 'ud fetch round
here."

Silence again fell on the group as they gazed out
to sea, pushing eagerly down the beach until tliey
were ankle-deep in the foam of each expended
wave ; for the brig was by that time close on the
point of rocks, staggering under more sail tlian she
could carry with safety.

" She '11 do it !" exclaimed the smart young fisher-
man, ready to cheer with enthusiastic hope. °

"Done for! Lost!" cried one, while something
like a groan burst from the others as they saw the
brig's topmasts go over the side, and one of her sails
blown to ribbons. She fell away towards the rocks
at once.

Like great black teeth these rocks seemed to
leap in the midst of the foam, as if longing to grasp
the ill-fated vessel, which had, indeed, all but
weathered the dangerous point, and all might have
been well if her gear had only held ; but now, as if
paralysed, she drifted into the bay where certain
destruction awaited her.

Just at that moment a great cheer arose, for the
rocket-cart, drawn by the men of the Coast-Guard,
was seen rattling over the downs towards them.
Anxiety for the fate of the doomed brig wVJ' now

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

■'.<. \\

changed into eager hope for tlie rescue of her crew.
The fishermen crowded round the Coast-Guard men
as they ran the cart close down to the water's edge,
and some of tliem — specially the smart young fellow
already mentioned — made eager ofter of thoir ser-
vices. Charlie Brooke stood aloof, looking on with
profound interest, for it was the first time he had
ever seen the Manby rocket apparatus brought into
action. He made no hasty offer to assist, for he
was a cool youth — even while burning with im-
patient enthusiasm — and saw at a glance that the
men of the Coast-Guard were well able to manage
their own affairs and required no aid from him.

As the brig was coming straight in they could
easily calculate where she would strike, so that the
rocket men could set up their triangle and arrange
their tackle without delay. This was fortunate, for
the wreck was carried shoreward with great rapidity.
She struck at last when within a short distance of
the beach, and the faces of those on board could be
distinctly seen, and their cries heard, as both masts
snapped off and were swept over the side, where they
tore at the shrouds like wild creatures, or charged
the hulk like battering-rams. Instantly the billows
that had borne the vessel on their crests burst upon
her sides, and spurted high in air over her, falling
back on her deck, and sweeping off everything that
was moveable. It could be seen that only three or
four men were on deck, and these kept well under

OP THE SEA AND THE IIOCKIES.

the lee of tlie bulwarks near the stern where they
were strongest.

"No passengers, I think," said one of the fisher-
men ; " no women, anyhow."

"Not likely they'd be 'lowed on deck even if
there was," growled Grinder, in his monotone.

"Now, then, out o' the way," cried the leader of
the Coast-Guard men, as he laid a rocket in its
place. " Line all clear, Fred ? "
"All clear."

Next moment there was a burst of flame, a
crash, and a vicious whizz as the powerful projectile
leaped from its stand and sped out to sea, in grand
defiance of the opposing gale, with its light line
behind it.

A cheer marked its flight, but a groan told of its
descent into the boiling sea, considerably to the left
of the wreck.

" What a pity !" cried Shank Leather, who had
come close to his friend when the rocket-cart
arrived.

"No matter," said Brooke, whose compressed lips
and flashing eyes told of deep but suppressed
feelings. " There are more rockets."

He was right. While he was speaking, another
rocket was placed and fired. It was well directed
but fell short. Another, and yet another, rose and
fell, but failed to reach its mark, and the rfimaind^v
of the rockets refused to go off from some unknown

iiii;u I

CITARLIK TO THK HK8CUE : A TALK

! I!

cauflo-oither because they had been too long in
stock or hnd become damp.

Meantime the brie,, was tossed fartlior and farther
in, until she stuck quite fast. Then it became
evident that slio must soon break up, and her crew
porisli. Hasty phms and eager advice were pro-
posed and given. Then the smart young fisherman
suddenly sprang forward, and threw oil" his oil-coat
and sou'wester.

"Hero ! liold on! " he cried, catching up the end
of the rocket line, and fastening it round his waist
while he kicked off his heavy boots.
" You can't do it. Bill," cried some.
" Too far to swim," cried others.
"The sea's '11 knock tlie life out o' ye," said
Grinder, "afore you 're clear o' the sand."

Despite these warnings the brave young fellow
dashed into the foam, and plunged straight into the
first mighty breaker that towered over his head.
But he was too much excited to act effectively
He failed to time his plunge well. The wave fell'
upon him with a roar and crushed him down. In
a few seconds he was dragged ashore almost in-
sensible.

Example, whether good or bad, is infectious
Another strapping young fellow, stirred to emula-
tion, ran forward, and, seizing the rope, tied it
round his own waist, while they helped poor Bill
up the beach and seated him on a sand- bank.

OP TIIK SKA AND THE R0CKIR8. t6

Tl.o second youth was more powerful than the
first-and cooler. Ho made a better attempt, but
only got past the firnt wave, when his conirudes,
seeing that he was exhausted, drew him back'
Then a third-a broad burly youth-^ame forwaid.*
At this point the soul of Shank Leather took fire,
fur he was by no means destitute of generous im-
pulses, and he tried to get hold of tlie rope.

" Out o' the way," cried the burly youth, giving
Leather a rough push that almost sent him on his
back ; " we don't want no laud-lubbers for this kind
o' work."

Up to this point Charlie Brooke, although burn-
ing with eager desire to take some active part in
the rescue, had restrained himself and held back,
believing, with characteristic modesty, that the'
fishermen knew far better than he did how to face
the sea and use their appliances ; but when he saw
his friend stagger backward, he sprang to the front
caught hold of the lino, and, seizing the burly
fisherman by the arm, exclaimed, " You '11 let this
land-lubbor try it, anyhow," and sent him spinnin^^
away like a capsized nine-pin. '^

There was a short laugh, as well as a cheer at
this ; but next moment all were gazing at the sea
m breathless anxiety, for Brooke had rushed deep
mto the surf. He paused one moment, as the great
wave curled over him, then went through it head-
first with such force that he shot waist \u-h out of

CHARr.ra TO TFfR URSOUl : A TALK

aaii:!

t»»o 8oa on the other aiilc. Ilia exceptional swim,
ming-powors now served him well, for hin ottor-like
rapidity of action enabled him to avoid tlio crushing
billows either by diving through them at the right
moment, or hohling baek until they fell, and left him
only the nuid swirling foam to conteml with. This
last was bad enough, but here his great muscular
strength and his inexhaustible caloric, with his
coik-lik'o power of flotation, enabled him to hold
his own without exhaustion until another oppor-
tunity of piercing an unbroken wave oflered. Thus
he gradually forced his way through and beyond
the worst breakers, which are always those nearest
shore. Had any one been close to him. and able
calmly to watch his movements, it would have been
seen that, great as were the youth's powers, he did
not waste them in useless battling with a force
against which no man could effectively contend ;
that, with a cool head, he gave way to every irresist-
ible force, swimming for a moment, as it were, with
the current— or, rather, floating easily in the whirl-
pools—so as to conserve his strength; that, ever
and anon, he struck out with all his might, rushing
through foam and wave like a fish, and that, in the
midst of it all, he saw and seized the brief moments
in which he could take a gasping inhalation.

Those who watched him with breathless anxiety
on shore saw little of all this as they payed out
the line or perched themselves on tiptoe on the

few t

sand.
••Ill

farthofc
"Nc

Leatho
"Ay

growl.

sich a 1

away, I

Ach

it was i

eddy w

and tha

of the

the stu

in a mo

the belt

the app

preparal

stump y

burst o\

leaping i

was ver3

his posit

Charli
A few" vi
of the w

QUiCt Spi

or THE H&A AND THE K0CKIE8.

kw boulders that horo aud there atrowud tlio
sand.

"Kaul him back!" slioiited the mau who was
I'urthost out on tlie lino. " He 'a used up I "

" No. he '8 not. I know him well I " roared Shank
Leather. " Pay out, men— pay out line I "

"Ay. ease away." said (Jrinder. in a thunderous
growl. •• Ho 's a rigler walrus, he is. Niver see'd
sich a felli3r since I left the southern seas. Ease
away, boys."

A cheer folluwed his remark, for at that moment
it was seen that our hero had readied the tail of the
eddy which was caused by the hull of the wreck,
and that one of her crew had darted from the cover
of the vessel's bulwarks and taken shelter under
the stump of the mainmast. His object was seen
in a moment, for ho unhooked a coil of rope from
the belaying-pins. and stood ready to heave it to
the approaching swimmer. In making even this
preparation the man ran very great risk, for the
stump was but a partial shelter— each wave that
burst over the side sweeping wildly round it and
leaping on the man higher than his waist, so that it
was very difficult for him to avoid being torn from
his position.

Charlie's progress was now comparatively easy.
A few vigorous strokes brought him under the lea
of the wreck, which, however, was by no means a
quiet spot, iQi each divided wave, rushing round

i I

r ^ 1

1 ,*

I
I

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

bow and stern, met there in a tumult of foam that
almost choked the swimmer, while each billow that
burst over the wreck poured a small Niagara on his
head.

How to get on board in such circumstances was
a subject that had troubled Charlie's mind as he
drew near, but the action of the sailor unhooking
the coil of rope at once relieved him. The moment
he came within reach, the sailor, watchiug his
opportunity between waves, threw out the coil. It
was aimed by an accustomed hand and fell on the
rescuer's head. Another minute and young Brooke
stood on the deck. Without waiting an instant he
leaped under the shelter of the stump of the main-
mast beside the seaman. He was only just in time
for a wave burst in thunder on the weather side of
the quivering brig, and, pouring over the bulwarks
almost dragged him from the belaying-pins to which
he clung.

The instant the strain was off, he passed a rope
round his waist and gave the end of it to the
sailor.

"Here, make it fast," he said, beginning to haul
with all his might on the Hue which he had brought
from shore. " You "re the skipper— eh ? "

"Yes. Don't waste your breath in speech. I
know what to do. All 's ready."

These few words were an unspeakable relief to
our hero, who was well aware that the working of

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 29

the rocket apparatus required a slight amount of
knowledge, and who felt from his manner and tone
that the skipper was a tliorough man. He glanced
upwards as he hauled in the line, assisted by his
companion, and saw that a stout rope with two
loops on it had been fixed to the stump of the mast.
Just as he noted this with satisfaction a large block
with a thin line rove through it emerged from the
boiling sea. It had been attached by the men on
shore to the rocket line which Charlie had been
hauling out with so much energy. Its name was
mdicated by the skipper.

"Here comes the whip ," he cried, catching hold
of the block when it reached him. " Hold me up,
lad, while I make it fast to them loops."

While Charlie obeyed he saw that by fixing the
tail-lines of the block quickly to the loops prepared
for them, instead of winding them round the mast,
—a difficult process in such a sea— much time was
saved.

" There, our part o' the job is done now," said the
skipper, pulling off his sou'wester as he spoke and
holding it up as a signal to the men on shore.

Meanwhile those to whom he signalled had been
watching every movement with intense eagerness,
and with the expressions of men whose gaze has to'
penetrate with difficulty through a haze of blinding
spray.

" They 've got the block now," cried one man.

r »

CHAULIK TO THE KESCUE : A TALE

Does that young feller know about fixin' of

asked another,

it?

" Clap a stopper on your mugs ; they 're a-fixin' of
it now," said old Grinder. "There's the signal!
Haul away, lads ! "

We must explain here that the " whip " above
mentioned was a double or endless line, passincr
through the block which had been hauled out to
the wreck by our hero.

By means of this whip one end of a stout cable
was sent off to the wreck, and on this cable a slinc^-
lifebuoy was hung to a pulley and also run out L
the wreck. The working of the apparatus, thougli
simple enough to seamen, would entail a complicated
perhaps incomprehensible, description to landsmen •
we therefore pass it by with the remark that, con-
nection with the shore having been established, and
the shng-lifebuoy~or life-saving machine-run out
the crew received it with what was meant for a
hearty cheer, but which exhaustion modified to a
feeble shout.

"Kow, lads," cried the skipper to his men, "look
sharp ! Let out the passengers."

"Passengers?" exclaimed Charlie Brooke in
surprise.

" Ay-my wife an' little gurl, two women and an
old gentleman. You don't suppose I 'd keep 'em on
deck to be washed overboard ? "

As he spoke two of the men opened the doors of

Ill

OF THE SEA AND THE UOCKIES.

the companion-hatch, and caught hold of a little
girl of about five vei

who

s handed up
by a woman.

" Stay ! keep her under cover till I get hold of
her," cried the skipper.

As he was passing from the mast to the com-
panion a heavy sea burst over the bulwarks, and
swept him into the scuppers. The same wave
wrenched the child from the grasp of the man who
held it and carried it right overboard. Like an eel,
rather than a man, Charlie cleft the foam close
behind her, caught her by the skirt and bore her to
the surface, when a few strokes of his free arm
brought him close under the lee of the wreck just
in time to prevent the agonised father from leaping
after his child. There was terrible suspense for a
few minutes. At one moment our hero, with his
burden held high aloft, was far down in the hollow
of the watery turmoil, with the black hull like a
great wall rising above him, while the skipper in
the main-chains, pale as death but sternly silent,
held on with his left hand and reached down with
his right— every finger rigid and ready! Next
moment a water-spout, so to speak, bore the rescuer
upward on its crest, but not near enough— they
went downward again. Once more the leaping
water surged upwards; the skipper's strong hand
closed like the grip of death on the dress, and the
child was safe while its rescuer sank away from it.

1:1 J

CHARLIE TO THE UESCUE : A TALE

" Help him ! " shouted the skipper, as he staggered
to the shelter of the companion.

But Charlie required no help. A loose rope
hanging over the side caught his eye : he seized it
and was on deck again in a few seconds. A
minute later and he was down in the cabin.

There, terror-stricken, sat the skipper's wife,
never venturing to move, because she had been'
told to remain there till called. Happily she
knew nothing of the incident just described.

Beside her sat the other women, and, near to
them, a stern old gentleman, who, with compressed
lips, quietly awaited orders.

" Come, quick ! " said Charlie, grasping by the
arm one of the women.

It was the skipper's wife. She jumped up right
willingly and went on deck. There she found her
child already in the life-buoy, and was instantly
lifted in beside it by her husband, who looked
hastily round.

" Come here, Dick," he said to a little cabin-boy
who clung to a stanchion near by. " Get in."

The boy looked surprised, and drew back.

"Get in, I say," repeated the skipper sternly.

" There 's more women, sir," said the boy, still
holding back.

" True— brave lad ! but you 're wanted to keep
these from getting washed out. I am too heavy,
you know."

ii|i

III

the

OF THE SEA AKD THE nOCKIES. 33

self into' Jr'"'*''." '°''^"- He squeezed him.
B^^'nto the machine beside the woman and

Then up at arm's-length went the skipper's sou'-
wester as a signal that all was ready, and the fisher-
men began to haul the life-buoy to the shore.

indeed^'l?- "'""' ^'^ ' "■"' "' *« "^'^^^oe.
mdeed, the tno were borne along well out of the

ng cheers from the fishermen-and a treble echo

sXt:r'^'''"^'''^^*"-''«^--'^-

cheeld, said an old woman to May Leather who
crouched beside her. .

"Ay, that he is ! " exclaimed May. with a gush of
naus.asm ,n tone and eyes that made them al
turn to look at her.

"Your brother?" asked a handsome, strapping
young woman. ^^ ^

" No—I wish he was !"

"Hm! ha!» exclaimed the strapping youns

woman-whereat ther^ wn« .^chanr^ ^ ^
nnf lfli,«T, 1. 4. TIT ' ■■""■ "^^^^^^g^a a signiti-
cant laugh; but May took no notice of it, being too

CHARLIE TO THE RESGFE : A TALE

deeply engrossed with the proceedings on shore and
sea.

Again the fishermen ran out the life-buoy and
soon hauled it back with another woman ; then a
third. After that came the old gentleman, quite
self-possessed c - o'm, though very pale and di-
sheveled ; and, 1, Ang him, the crew, one by one,
were rescued. Then came the hero of the hour, and
last of all, as in duty bound, the skipper— not much
too soon, for he had barely reached the land when
the brig was overwhelmed and engulfed in the
raging sea.

OF THE SEA AND THR ROOKIES.

CHAPTEE III.

"IT'S it, lU, „,TO TH*T BUW8 KiBBODT OUID."

That many if „ot most names have originated in
the character or condition of individuals seems
obvious, else why is it that so many people take
after their names ? We have no desire to argue the
question, but hasten on to remarif that old Jacob
Crossley was said to be-observe, we do not say that
he was-a notable illustration of what we refer to

Jacob was "as cross as two sticks," if we are to
b heve Mrs. <Bland, his housefeeeper-and Mrs
Bland was worthy of belief, for she was an honest
widow who h,'d prevarication to be equivalent to
lying and who, besides having been in the old
bachelor s service for many year., had on one occasion
been plucked by him from under the fret of a pair
of horses when attempting the more dangerous than
nor-west passage of a London crossing. Gratitude
therefore rendered it probable that Mrs. Bland
spake truly when she said that her master was as
cross as two sticks. Of course we admit th».. her
judgment may have been faulty.

■^.

CHARLIl! TO THE RESCUK : A TALE

li'.

Strange to say Mr. Crossley had no reason—
at least no very apparent reason— for being cross,
unless, indeed, the mere fact of his being an old
bachelor was a sufficient reason. Perhaps it was !
But in regard to everything else he had, as the
saying goes, nothing to complain of. He was a
prosperous East India merchant— not a miser,
though a cross old bachelor, and not a millionaire'
though comfortably rich. His business was pro-
sperous, his friends were numerous, his digestion was
good, his nervous system was apparently all that
could be desired, and he slept well !

Standing one morning in the familiar British
position before his dining-room fire in London, he
frowningly contemplated his housekeeper as that in-
defatigable woman removed the breakfast equipage.^
" Has the young man called this morning ? "
"Not yet, sir."

" Well, when he comes tell him I had business in
the city and could wait no "

A ring and a sharp knock interrupted him.
A few moments later CharHe Brooke was ushered
into the room. It was a smallish room, for
Mr. Crossley, although well off, did not see
the propriety of wasting money on unnecessary
space or rent, and the doorway was so low
that Charlie's hair brushed against the top as he
entered.

"I nflnf><1 Mr ^r>naa^r^^r :^ J •.-, .,

, ,.^^, ._iv«oicj, in iiuuui uiiuue witn liie

OF THE SEA AND THE ItOCKIES. 37

Wish expressed in your letter. Although, being a
stranger, I do not " ''

The young man stopped at this point and looked
steaddy at the old gentleman with a peculiarly
questionmg expression.

" '^°" ••^""gnwe me, I see," said the old man, with
a very slight smile.

" Well_I may be mistaken, but you do bear some
resemblance to "

" Just so, I 'm the man that you hauled so violently
out of the cabin of the wreck last week, and shoved so
unceremoniously into the life-buoy, and I have sent
for you, iirst, to thank you for saving my life
because they tell me that, but for your swimmin.'
off with a rope, we should certainly have aU been
est ; and, secondly, to offer you aid in any course of
ife you may wish to adopt, for I have been informed
that you are not at present engaged in any .special
employment." ./ r |»«

" You are very kind, sir, very kind," returned
Charlie, somewhat embarrassed. "I can scarcely
claim, however, to have saved your life, though
I thankfully admit having had the opportunity to
lend a hand. The rocket-men, in reality, did the
work, for without their splendid working of the
apparatus my swimming off would have been
useless."

Mr. CrO.S.silAV frnwrip,! «.l,:i„ it . .,

—•' --"""Sa niuiu uie youth was speak-
ing, and regarded him with some suspicion.

CUAULIE TO TIIK KESCUE : A TALE

li.

"You admit, T suppose," ho rejoined sternly,
"that if you had not swum off, the rocket apparatus
would have been equally useless."
'v"By no means," returned Charlie, with that
benignant smile that always accompanied his
opposition in argument. "I do not admit that,
because, if I had not done it, assuredly some one else
would. In fact a friend of mine was on the point
of making the attempt when I pulled him back
and prevented him."
"And why did you prevent him ?"
" Because he was not so well able to do it as I."
" Oh ! I see. In other words, you have a pretty
high opinion of your own powers."

" Possibly I have," returned the youth, somewhat
sharply. "I lay claim to no exemption from the
universal law of vanity which seems to affect the
entire human race— especially the cynical part of it.
At the same time, knowing from long experience
that I am physically stronger, can swim better, and
have greater power of endurance, though not greater
courage, than my friend, it would be mere pretence
were I to assume that in such matters I was his
inferior. You asked me why I prevented him : I
gave you the reason exactly and straightforwardly.
I now repeat it."

"Don't be so ready to fire up, young man," said
Crossley, with a deprecating smile. "I had no
intention of hurting your feelings."

Of THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

"You have not hurt them, sir," returned Charlie,
with almost provoking urbanity of manner and
sweetness of voice, " you have only misunderstood
me."

" Woll. well, let it pass. Tell me, now. can T do
anything for you ? "
" Nothing, thank you."

"Eh ?" oxclaimed the old gentleman in surprise.
"Nothing, thank you," repeated his visitor. "I
did not save you for the purpose of being rewarded,
and I refuse to accept reward for sfving you."
< For a second or two Mr. Cropsley regarded his
visitor in silence, with a conflicting mixture of
frown and smile—a sort of acidulated-drop expres-
sion on his rugged face. Then he asked—

"What is the name of this friend whom you
prevented from swimming off to iis ? "
" Shank Leather."

" Is he a very great friend of yours ? "
"Very. We have been playmates from child-
hood, and school-fellows till now."
" What is he ?— his profession, I mean ? "
" Nothing at present. That is to say, he has, like
myself, been trained to no special profession, and
the failure of the firm in the counting-house of
which we have both served for some months has
cast us adrift at the same time."

"Would it give you much satisfaction if I were
to find good employment for your friend ? "

Ji*

I*'

CIIAKLIK TO T!fK UJUJCUE : A TALK

i'i'i

!li

Indeed it wimld—tho highest posHiblo Hutisfao.
tion," oxclairnod Charlie, with the Hrst symptom of
enthusiasm in his tone and look.

"What can your friend Shank Leather do?"
asked the old man bruyquely.

"Oh I many things. He's capital at figures,
thoroughly understands book-keeping, and— and is
a hard-working foUow, whatever ho puU his hand
to."

" Is he steady ? "

Charlie was silent for a few moments.

" Well, one cannot bo sure," he answered, with
some hesitation, " what meaning you attach to the
word 'steady.' I "

" Yes, yes, I see," interrupted Crossloy, consulting
his watch. " No time to discuss meanings of words
just now. Will you tell your friend to call on me
here the day after to-morrow at six o'clock ? You
live in Sealford, I have been told ; does he live near
you ? "

" Yes, within a few minutes' walk."

" Well, tell him to be punctual. Punctuality is
the soul of business. Hope I won't find your friend
as independent as you seem to be ! You are quite
sure, are you, that I can do nothing for you ? I have
both money and influence."

The more determined that our hero became to
decHne all offers of assistance from tho man who had
misconstrued hia mntivoa fim *v.«,.^ ^* .,-u^^:i...

or Tin 8KA Am) tiir hockim. 41

markod Iu8 mu.ni.r. u„d it was with a «milo of
noffublo goo<l.nat»ro on hi« rnaHculine foaturos that
ho ropcmtod, •• Nothing, thank you--quito euro. You
will havo done mo the groatost poaniblo aorvico
when you help my friend. Yet- stay. You men-
tioned money. There is an institution in which I
am much interested, and which you might appro-
priately remember just now."
"What is that?"
"The Lifeboat Institution."
"But it was not the Lifeboat Institution that
saved 7m. It was the Kockot apparatus."

"True, but it might have been a lifeboat that
saved you. The rockets are in charge of the Coast-
Guard and need no assistance, whereas the Lifeboat
Service depends on voluntary contributions, and the
fact that u did not happen to save Mr. Crossloy
from a grave in the sea does not affect its claim to
the nation's gratitude for the hundreds of lives
saved by its boats every year."

" Admitted, my young friend, your reasoning is
just," said the old gentleman, sitting down at a
writing table and taking a cheque-book from a
drawer ; " what shall I put down ? "

" You know your circumstances bept " mid Charlie,
somewhat amused by the question.

" Most people in ordinary circumstances," returned •
the old man slowly as he wrote, "contribute a Quints,
to such charities."

CIIAllLIE TO THE KESCUK : A TALE

L ^

"Many people," remarked Charlie, with a feeling
of pity rather than contempt, "contribute five, or
even fifteen."

"Ah, indeed— yes, well, Mr. Brooke, will you
condescend to bo the bearer of my contribution ?
Fourteen St. John St., Adelphi, is not far from this,
and it will save a penny of postage, you know ! "

Mr. Crossley rose and handed the cheque to his
visitor, who felt half disposed— on the strength of
the postage remark— to refuse it and speak his mind
somewhat freely on the subject, but, his eye hap-
pening to fall on the cheque at the moment, he
paused,

" You have made a mistake, I think," he said.
" This is for five hundred pounds."

"I make no mistakes, Mr. Brooke," returned the
old man sternly. " You said something about five or
fifteen. I could not well manage fifteen hundred
just now, for it is bad times in the city at present.
Indeed, according to some people, it is always bad
times there, and, to say truth, some people are not
far wrong— at least as regards their own experiences.
Now, I must be off to business. Good-bye. Don't
forget to impress on your friend the importance of
punctuality."

^ Jacob Crossley held out his hand with an expres-
sion of affability which was for him quite mar-
vellous.

" You 're a much better man than I thought youl "

■)■

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 43

exclaimed Charlie, grasping the proffered hand with
a fervour that caused the other to wince.

"Young sir," returned Crossley, regarding the
fingers of his right hand somewhat pitifully, "people
whose physique is moulded on the pattern'of Sam-
son ought to bear in mind that rheumatism is not
altogether unknown to elderly men. Your opinion
of me was probably erroneous to begin with, and it
IS certainly false to end with. Let me advise you
to remember that the gift of money does not
necessarily prove anything except that a man has
money to give-nay, it does not always prove even
that, for many people are notoriously prone to give
away money that belongs to somebody else. Five
hundred pounds is to some men not of much more
importance than five pence is to others. Everythin^^
is relative. Good-bye." **

While he was speaking Mr. Crossley rang the bell
and politely opened the dining-room door, so that
our hero found himself in the street before he had
quite recovered from his astonishment.

"Please, sir," said Mrs. Bland to her master after
Charlie was gone, « Cap'en Stride is awaitin' in the
library."

"Send him here," said Crossley, once more con-
suiting his watch.

" Well, Captain Stride, I Ve had a talk with him,"

he said, RPl an PYnpprlipfrl" l^r-^j--! \ ' ■ 1 -,

' A^^eeaicgij uroaa, Heavy, snort-legged

man entered, with a bald head and a general air of

IffSr,

i:
'I

It *

It'

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

salt water, tar, and whiskers about him. " Sit down.
Have you made up your mind to take command of
the Walrus V

"Well, Mr. Crossley, since you *re so very good,"
said the sea-captain with a modest look, "I had

feared that the loss o' "

"Never mind the loss of the brig. Captain. It
was no fault of yours that she came to grief. Other
ship-owners may do as they please. I shall take
the liberty of doing as / please. So, if you are
ready, the ship is ready. I have seen Captain
Stuart, and I find that he is down with typhoid
fever, poor fellow, and won't be fit for duty again for
many weeks. The Walrus must sail not later than
a week or ten days hence. She can't sail without a
captain, and I know of no better man than yourself;
so, if you agree to take command, there she is, if not
I '11 find another man."

"I'm agreeable, sir," said Captain Stride, with a
gratified, meek look on his large bronzed face— a
look so very different from the leonine glare with
which he was wont to regard tempestuous weather
or turbulent men. "Of course it'll come rather
sudden on the missus, but w'en it blows hard what 's
a man got to do but make all snug and stand by ? "
"Quite true. Stride. I have no doubt that you
are nautically as well as morally correct, so I leave
It to you to brinff round the mistress, and consider
that matter as settled. By the way, I hope that she

and y
ting I
rescue

to the

usual :

"Gl

"By

«Th

word,

met wi

"Thi

very n:

young

extraor'

"Yes

what I

dent thi

" 'Zac

young i

or tail, J

tide

" Thai
rupted <
"It'shJ!
" Oh !
" Wei]
first let 1
of the br

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 45

and your little girl have not suffered from the wet-
ting and rough handling experienced when being
rescued."

"Not in the least, sir, thankee. In fact I incline
to the belief that they are rather more frisky than
usual in consekince. Leastwise little Maggie is."
" Glad to hear it. Now, about that young fellow."
" By which I s'pose you mean Mr. Brooke, sir ? "
"The same. He has just left me, and upon my
word, he 's about the coolest young fellow I ever
met with."

"That's just what I said to the missus, sir, the
very night arter we was rescued. * The way that
young feller come off, Maggie,' says I, 'is most
extraor'iiar'. No fish that ' "

"Yes, yes, Stride, I know, but that's not exactly
what I mean : it's his being so amazingly indepen-
dent that "

" 'Zactly what I said, sir. ' Maggie,' says I, ' that
young feller seemed to be quite independent of fin
or tail, for he came right off in the teeth 0' wind and
tide ' "

"That's not what I mean either, Captain," inter-
rupted the old gentleman, with slight impatience.
"It's hjs independent spirit I refer to."

" Oh ! I ax your pardon, sir."

" Well, now, listen, and don't interrupt me. But

first let me ask. does hfi Imc^v^ ^\^^ t ^^ fi-_ -^

. — iv-i.. ,, viiiiu J. am uiG owner

of the brig that was lost ? "

IIS

CI
M

\l
(I
(I

4 'IP

I «4

r i

>■.

■;

ifi

■1^^

If'

^£ ml ; I

ill

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" Yes ; he knows that."
"Does he know that I also own the JValnis:'
"No, I'm pretty sure he don't. Leastwise I
didn't tell him, an' there 's nobody else down there
as knows anything about you."

" So far, good. Now, Stride, I want you to help
me. The young goose is so proud, or I know not
what, that he won't accept any favours or rewards
from me, and I find that he is out of work just now
so I 'm determined to give him something to do in
spite of himself. The present supercargo of the
TFalrus is a young man who will be pleased to fall
in with anything I propose to him. I mean, there-
fore, to put him in another ship and appoint young
Brooke to the Walrus. Fortunately the firm of
Withers and Co. does not reveal my name-I
having been Co. originally, though I'm the firm
now, so that he won't suspect anything, and what
I want is, that you should do the engaging of him
—being authorised by Withers and Co.— you under-
stand ? "

" I follow you, sir. But what if he objects ? »
"He won't object. I have privately inquired
about him. He is anxious to get employment, and
has strong leanings to an adventurous life on the
sea. There 's no accounting for taste. Captain ! "

"Bight you are, sir," replied the Captain, with an
approving nod. "That's what I said only this
monnn' to my missus. ^ Maggie,' says I, ' salt water

OP THE SEA AND THE BOOKIES. 47

hasn't a good taste, as even the stoopidest of mortals
knows, but w'en a man has had to lick it off his
lips at sea for the better part of half a century
It s astonishin- how he not only gits used to it,'
but even comes to like the taste of it.' 'Poohl'
says she, 'don't tell me you likes it, for you don't.
It all a dlusion an' a snare. I hates both the
taste an the smell of it.' -Maggie,' says I, quite
sjemn-hke, 'that maybe so, but you're not me.'
No, thank goodness ! ' says she-which you mustn't
suppose, sir, meant as she didn't like m., for she's
a true-hearted affectionate creetur-though I say it
as shouldn't-but she meant that she 'd have had to
go to sea reg-lar if she had been me, an' that would

for the first time she ever went she was all bu
turned inside "

"If you're going citywards," interrupted Mr
Crossley again pulling out his watch, «we may as'
weU finish our talk in the street "

As Captain Stride was "quite agreeable" to
his proposal, the two left the house together, and
haihng a hansom, drove off in the direction of the'
City. ^

111

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I'*

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

CHAPTER IV.

DRIFTINQ ON THK ROCKS.

On the sea-shore, uot far from the spot where the
brig had been wrecked, Charlie Brooke and Shank
Leather walked up and down engaged in earnest
conversation soon after the interviews just described.

Very dififerent was the day from that on which
the wreck had taken place. It seemed almost
beyond possibility that the serene sky above, and
the calm, glinting ocean which rippled so softly at
their feet, could be connected with the same world
in which inky clouds and snowy foam and roaring
billows had but a short time before held high
revelry.

"Well, Charlie," said his friend, after a pause, "it
was very good of you, old boy, and I hope that Vll
do credit to your recommendation. The old man
seems a decent sort of chap, though . somewhat
cross-grained."

" He is kind-hearted, Shank ; I feel quite sure of
that, and hope sincerely that you will get on well
with him."

(( (

seem

get f<

busin

other

yet n

he is i

"Pc

five nj

"Ml

mine, i

man u

year.

mouth.

don ne

seem p]

Leathei

gazing I

holes w

"I C(

and you

are not

self, for

the surfi

nature o

"Norn

ness or s€

charactei

of virtuo

bhe

high

OK TIIE SEA AND THE UOCKIES. 49

.pIT"* ''r''" '"^""^ ^«''^': "yo" don't
»eem to understand that the situation ho is to

get for me is not in connection with his own
busmess whatever that may be. It is in some
other Oty firm, the name of which he has not
yet mentioned. I can't myself understand why
he IS so close ! " '

"Perhaps because he has been born with a secre-
tive nature," suggested Charlie.

"May bo so. However, that's no business of
mme, and It doesn't do to be too inquisitive when a
man is offering you a situation of two hundred a
year It would be like looking a gift-horse in the
mouth. All I care about is that I 'm to go to Ion-
don next week and begin work.-Wliy, you don't
seem pleased to hear of my good fortune," continued
Leather, turning a sharp look on his friend, who was
gazing gravely at the sand, in which he was poking
holes with his stick. ^

"I congratulate you, Shank, with all my heart
and you know it, but-I'm soriy to find that you
are not to be in connection with Mr. Crossley him-
self, for there is more good in him than appears on
the surface. Did he then make no mention of the
nature of his own business ? "

" None whatever. To say truth, that mysterious-
ness or secrecy is the only point about the old fellow's
character that I don't like," said Leather, with a frnwn
of virtuous disapproval. '"All fair and above-board,'

1 •"

CIIARME TO niK RESCUE: A TALE

that's my motto. Speak out your mind and foar
nothing ! "

At these noble sentiments a faint smile, if we may
say so, hovered somewhere in the recesses of Charlie
Brooke's interior, but not the quiver of a muscle
disturbed the solemnity of his face.

"The secrecy of his nature seems even to have
infected that skipper with — or rather by — whom he
was wrecked," continued Leather, " for when I asked
him yesterday about the old gentleman, he became
suddenly silent, and when I pressed him, he made
me a rigmarole speech something like this : ' Young
man, I make it a rule to know nothin' whatever
about my passengers. As I said only two days past
to my missus : " Maggie," says I, " it 's of no use your
axin' me. My passengers' business is their business,
and my business is mine. All I 've got to do is to
sail my ship, an* see to it that I land my passengers
in safety." '

" ' You made a pretty mess of your business, then,
the last trip,' said I, for I was bothered with his
obvious determination not to give me any informa-
tion."

"'Eight you are, young man,' said he, 'and it
would have been a still prettier mess if your friend
Mr. Brooke hadn't come off wi' that there line ! ' "

" I laughed at this and recovered my temper, but
I could pump nothing more out of him. Perhaps

J pump. — But now tell me, how

nothins

IS it

all c

worli

incai

himst

Cross

moti\

acccp

I was

der in

pride '.

Perhaj

nised."

"Th

be reco

had be

could E

Shan

fairly o

probed

deal of

togethei

of chare

after the

ism, the

vanity i]

OP THE SEA AND THK KOCKIES. fil

ia it--for 1 cannot undorstand-that you refused
all ofTors to vouraolf? Vn„ reruseu

mcaiuble of g.va,g you an answer as Captain Stride
himself. Yo„ eeo. during our conversation Mr
Crossley attributed mea„-at al, events ~1
n t,ves to ,„, and somehow I felt that I J2Lt

Z Z 'r " f •"' '""«'» J-' "'en. I SUSP
I was too hasty. I fear it was false prido "

Ha ! ha ! " laughed Leather ; « • pride ' ! I won-
;'ri^''""^^'^''-'''-°^^-'>^« corpus z

PpZ"V- """'^ ''"°^- ^' »"«' ^ pretty deep
2r '' " ^"S^"-'. -J cannot be Lly'reeog-'

"That last is true, Charlie. Assuredly it can't
be recognised, for it 's not there at all. Why if J „
had been born with a scrap of false pride yo^ and i
could never have been friends-for I hate it r-
Shank Leather in saying this had hit the nail

deal Of the friendship whi:hrwthte";„:gC

Ir rt V ^""^^ "^'^'^ °» «="=» other somewhal

ism, ine ratchetq nf ooifir,i _ ,

•i . " ' "* •^^-'"oiiuucia ana coer-wheeI«j nf

vamty ,n Shank fitting easily into the'plioi o!

if-!:

Ill

! ll

CIIAULIK TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

h»

{I V

II !

1-^aa

i?«i

good-will and modesty which characterised his
friend, so that there waa no jarring in their inter-
course. This alone would not, perhaps, have induced
the strong fricndsliip that existed if it had not been
coupled with their intimacy from childhood, and
if Brooke had not been particularly fond of Shank's
invalid mother, and recognised a few of her good
characteristics faintly reproduced in her son, while
Shank fully appreciated in Charlie that amiable
temperament which inclines its happy possessor to
sympathise much with others, to talk little of self,
to beUevo all things and to hope all things, to the
verge almost of infantine credulity.

"Well, well," resumed Charlie, with a laugh,
" however that may be, I did decline Mr. Crossley's'
offers, but it does not matter much now, for that
same worthy captain who bothered you so much has
told me of a situation of which he has the gift, and
has offered it to me."

" You don't say so ! Is it a good one ? "
" Yes, and well paid, I 'm told, though I don't
know the exact amount of the salary yet."
" And have you accepted ? "
I' I have. Mother agreed, after some demur, that
it is better than nothing, so, like you, I begin work
in a few days."

"Well now, how strangely tMngs do happen some-
limes ! " said Leather, stopping and looking out sea-
ward, where the remains of the brig could still be

Of THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 53

distinguished on the rocks that had fixed hor doom
"But for that fortunate wreck and our saving the
people in her, you and I might still have been
whistling in the mnks of the Great Unen.ployod !
—And what sort of a situation is it, Charlie ? "
^ "You will smile, perhaps, when I toll you. It
IS to act as supercargo of the Wa'rua, which ia
commanded by Captain Stride himself."

Young Leather's countenance fell "Why
Charlie," he said, "that means that you're mm
away to sea 1 " -^ © b

" I fear it does."

"Soon?"

" In a week or two."

For some little time Leather did not speak. The
news fell upon him with a shock of disagreeable
surprise, for, apart from the fact that he really loved
his friend, he was somehow aware that there were
not many other young men who cared much for
himself~in regard to which he was not a little sur-
prised, for it never occurred to him that egotism
and selfishness had anything to do with the coolness
of his friends, or that none but men like our hero
with sweet tempers and self-forgetting dispositions'
could by any possibility put up with him.

" Who are the owners of the Walrus, Charlie ?" he
asked, as they turned into the lane that led from
the beanh tn thn ^riiio^'o

"Withers and Co. of London."

»i li

CnARt.!E TO THE RfiSCUB: A TAU

" H'm— don't know them. They must bo trustful
fellows, however, to take a captain into their employ
who has just lost his vessel."

"They have not Uken him into their employ"
said Charlie. '• Captain Stride tells me he has been
in their service for more than a .[uurter of a cen-
tury, and they exonerate him from all blame in the
loss of the brig. It does seem odd to me, however
that ho should bo appointed so imn.cdiately to n
new ship, but, as you remarked, that 's none of my
business. Come. 1 '11 go in with you and congratu-
late your mother and May on your appointment."
-^Thoy had reached the door of SImnk Leather's
house by that lime. It was a poor-Iookiug house in
a poor side street or blind alley of the village, the
haunt of riotous children during the day-time, and of
maddening cats at night. Stray dogs now and then
invaded the alley, but, for the most part, it was to
c^nldren and cats that the region was given over.
Here, for the purpose of enabling the proverbial
two ends' to "meet," dwelt a considerable popula-
tion m houses of diminutive size and small accom-
modation. A few of these were persons who, havin<-
"seen better days," were anxious to hide their
poverty and existence from the "friends" of those
better days. There was likewise a sprinkling of
.ndmduals and families who, having grown callous
to the sorrows of earth, had reached that condition

wnerein thfi moofi"*'"- -* *^i--i ^- ■> •

--''"'6 "* «'"e iwo enas m a matter of

OF THE SEA AND THK TlOCKim. 60

oomparativo indiirerenoo, because thoy never mot.
aiKl wero never more expected to meet~the blank
annually loft gaping, being filled np. somehow, by
a sort of compromise between bankruptcy, charity
ond starvation. ■"

To the second of these the Leather fan.ily be-
longed. They had been brought to their sad condi-
tion by that prolific source of human misery-the
bottle. ^

To do the family justice, it was only the father
who had succumbed. He had been a gentleman •
he was now a sot. His wife-delicate owing to'
bad treatment, sorrow, and iusuflicient nourishment
—was, ever had been, and ever would be, a lady and
a Christian. Owing to the last priceless condition
she was still alive. It is despair that kills, and
despair had been banished from her vocabulary ever
since she had laid down the arms of her rebellion
and accepted the Saviour of mankind as her guide
and consolation.

But sorrow, suffering, toil had not departed when
the demon despair fled away. They had, however
been wonderfully lightened, and one of the brightest
gleams of hope in her sad life was that she might
possibly be used as the means of saving her hus-
band. There were other gleams of light, however
one of the brightest of them being that May, her
'^"i- daughter, was lovinc and 8vinm<-.hAh-n_ '. ..
sometimes expressed it, "as good as gold."

she

i, I

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

But there was also a very dark spot in her life-
Shank, her only son, was beginning to show a ten-
dency to tread in his father's steps.

Many golden texts were enshrined in the heart of
poor Mrs. Leather, and not a few of these-painted
by the hand of May-hung on the walls of their
little sitting-room, but the word to which she turned
her eyes in seasons of profoundest obscurity, and
which served her as a sheet-anchor in the midst of
the wildest storms, was, " Hope thou in God, for
thou Shalt yet praise Him." And alongside of that
text, whenever she thought of it or chanced to look
at it, there invariably flashed another : «' Immanuel
God with us."

May and her mother were alone when the youn^r
men entered ; the former was at her lessons, the
latter busy with knitting-needles.

Knitting was the means by which Mrs. Leather,
with constant labour and inexhaustible perseverance'
managed to fill up the gap between the before-men-
tioned "two ends," which her dissolute husband
failed to draw together. She could read -or assist
May with her lessons, while her delicate fingers
working below the table, performed miraculous gyra-
tions with steel and worsted. To most male minds,
we presume, this is utterly incomprehensible. It is
well not to attempt the description of that which
one dce:« not understand. The good lady knitted

socks and stockings, and mittens and cuffs

and

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 57

comforters, and other things, in absolutely over-
whelming quantities, so that the accumulation in
the press in which she stored them was at times
quite marvellous. Yet that press never quite filled
up, owing to the fact that there was an incurable
leak in it-a sort of secret channel-through which
the products of her toil flowed out nearly as fast as
she poured them in.

^ This leak in the worsted press, strange to say
increased wonderfully just after the wreck described
m a previous chapter, and the rivulet to which it
gave rise flowed in the direction of the back-door of
the house, emptying itself into a reservoir which
a ways took the form of a little elderly lady, with a
plam but intensely lovable countenance, who liad
been, perhaps still was, governess in a family in a
neighbouring town where Mrs. Leather had spent
some of her « better days." Her name was MoUoy
Like a burglar Miss Molloy came in a stealthy
manner at irregular intervals to the back-door of
the house, and swept the press of its contents, made
them up into a bundle of enormous size, and carried
them off on the shoulders of an appropriately dis-
reputable blackguard boy-as Shank called him-
whom she retained for the purpose. Unlike a bur-
glar, however. Miss Molloy did not « bolt with the
swag," but honestly paid for everything, from the
Imgest pair of gentlemen's fishing socks to the
smallest pair of children's cuffs.

■I

•1

I*
(I
(I

4 J'

it'*i i]

(1 111
■' I

Whi

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

What Miss Molloy did with this perennial flow of
woollen work, whom she came from, where she went
to, who discovered her, and why she did it, were
subjects of inquiry which baffled investigation, and
always simmered in the minds of Shank and May,
though the mind of Mrs. Leather herself seemed
to be little if at all exercised by it. At all
events she was uncommunicative on the point, and
her children's curiosity was never gratified, for the
mother was obdurate, and, torture being illegal
at that time in England, they had no means °of
compelling disclosure. It was sometimes hinted by
Shank that their little dog Scraggy-appropriately
named I~knew more than he chose to tell about
the subject, for he was generaUy present at the half-
secret interviews, and always closed the scene with
a sham but furious assault on the ever contemptuous
blackguard boy. But Scraggy was faithful to his
trust, and revealed nothing.

" I can't tell you how glad I am, Mrs. Leather,
about Shank's good fortune," said Charlie, with a
gentle shake of the hand, which Mr. Crossley would
have appreciated. Like the Nasmyth steam-ham-
mer, which flattens a ton of iron or gently cracks a
hazel-nut, our Herculean hero could accommodate
himself to circumstances ; « as your son says, it has
been a lucky wreck for us"

"Lucky indeed for Am," responded the lady,
instantly resuming her knitting, which she generall'y

[ij

or THE SEA AND THE ROOKIES. 59

kept down near her lap, well hidden by the tabl«
whde she looked at her visitor and talked. " burnot
very pleasant for those who have lost by It "

Pooh I mother, nobody has lost by "it" said
Jl.ank zn h,s free-and-easy style. " The owne 3
don t lose, because of course it was insured and to
Insurance Companies caz^'t be said to lo': for the

han the losing of a pin would be felt by y7urse "
and the captam won't lose-except a few sea 'ar
■nentP and things o' that kind-L he Ta,?
appointed to another ship already Bv ^
-he, that reminds me L C^e hi Is';;:^'

Stride feels so gi-ateful that he has offered him tZ
situation of supercargo in his new ship "

a s^dVen'st"""- ^"'t"' '^"'''-S--^'- came to

sudden stop, and she looked inquirin<.lv it hpv
young friend. So did May. "^ '

" Have you accepted it ? "

"Well, yes. I have."

"I'm so sorry," said May
Shank will do without you "

the^'dol';' T""' " '""' '"°*'°S -- '--d at

looUiArheir^''^"^^-^--'
to.drr"jr::fr^rf""^'^^^^^'^^

returned home. "^ °^ '"' '«'"^« ''"^

I tlon't know what

> .

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

'i\ ;

With sudden interest in worsted fabrics, which he
was far from feeling, Charlie Brooke turned his
back to the door, and, leaning forward, took up an
end of the work with which the knitter was busy.

" That 's an extremely pretty pattern, Mrs.
Leather. Does it take you long to make things of
the kind ?"

"Not long j I—I make a good many of them."
She said this with hesitation, and with her eyes
fixed on the doorway, through the opening of which
her husband thrust a shaggy disheveled head, with
dissipation stamped on a countenance which had
evidently been handsome once.

But Charlie saw neither the husband's head nor
the poor wife's gaze, for he was still bending over
the worsted-work in mild admiration.

Under the impression that he had not been
observed, Mr. Leather suddenly withdrew hio head,
and was heard to stumble up-stairs under the guid-
ance of May. Then the bang of a door, followed by
a shaking of the slimly-built house, suggested the
idea that the poor man had flung himself on his bed.
"Shank Leather," said Charlie Brooke, that same
night as they strolled on the sea-shore, " you gave
expression to some sentiments to-day which I
highly approved of. One of them was ' Speak out
your mind, and fear nothing ! ' I mean to do so
now, and expect that you will not be hurt by my
following your advice."

« 1

glan(

tone.

other,

hope!

"\!

agree

yours(

are soc

—it u

mind 1

and cl

father';

don't ti

least f(

to com

Kemem

advised

"Yes

uncharii

Leather;

admit t]

sometim

— more

very difi

appear u

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. «1

"Well?" exclaimed Shank, with a dubious
glance, for he disliked the seriousness of his frleZ

"Your father " began Charlie.

oth'ef « T f "'' T\ """•' *^"-" ■•"«""P'«d the
other. I know all that you can say. His case is
hope ess and I can't bear to speak about it "

We I won't speak about him, though I cannot
agree w.th you that his case is hopeless. But it s
yourself that I wish to speak about. You and I

-It may be for ever. Now I must speak out my
mnd before I go. My old playmate, Lool-feUoT
and chum, you have begun to walk in your poo
fathers f„„tsteps, and you may be sure that if you
dont turn round all your hopes will be blasted-at
east for this life-perhaps also for tha wMcH
to come. Now don't be ang,y or hurt. Shank
^member that you not only encouraged me b".t
advised me to speak out my mind."

"Yes, but I did not advise you to form a false
unchantable judgment of your chum," return d
Leather, with a dash of bitterness in hi tone i

admit that I '1. fond of a social glass, and hat I
sometimes, though rarely, take a liMle-a very Me

veiy different trom being a drunkard, which you
appear to assume that I am."
"Nay, Shank, I don't assume that. What I

CIIAHLIR TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

said was that you are h6ginning to walk in your
dear father's footsteps. No man ever yet became a
drunkard without heginning. And I feel certain
that no man ever, when beginning, had the most
distant intention or expectation of becoming a
drunkard. Your danger, dear old fellow, lies in
your not seeing the danger. You admit that you
like a social glass. Shank, I candidly make the
same admission— I like it,— but after seeing your
father, and hearing your defence, the danger has
been so deeply impressed on me, that from this
hour I resolve, God helping me, never more to taste
a social glass."

" WeU, Charlie, you know yourself best," returned
his friend airily, "and if you think yourself in so
great danger, of course your resolve is a very pru-
dent one ; but for myself, I admit that I see no
danger, and I don't feel any particular weakness
of will in regard to temptation."

"Ah, Shank, you remind me of an eccentric old
lady I have heard of who was talking with a friend
about the difficulties of life. 'My dear,' said the
fnend, 'I do find it such a difficult thing to
resist temptation-don't you?' 'No,' replied'' the
eccentric old lady, 'I don't, for I never resist temp-
tation, I always give way to it ! '"

"I can't quite make out how your anecdote
applies to me, Charlie."

" Don't you see ? Yov. feel no wfifl.knp«fl nf «„-n ;,,

or rilE SEA AMI) THE ROCKIES, ^3

regard to temptation because you never give your
wm an opportunity of resieting it. You always give
way to ,t. You ace. I am speaking out my mind
freely— as you have advised I "

fear nothing else you would not risk a quarrel by
domg so. But really, my boy, it's of no use your
tubling your head on that subject, for I feel quite
-Je._and I don't mean to give in, so there's an end

Our hero persevered notwithstanding, and for
some time onger sought to eonvinee or'move £
friend bo h by earnest appeal and light pleasantry,
but to all appearance without success, although he
reduced him to silence. He left him at last and
went h„„e meditating on the truth of the pr;verb
that a man convinced against his will is of the
same opinion stiU."

O
'f

• 5
'm

i:
I'

^-i

CilAULlE TO THE UlibCUK ; A TALE

CHArTER V.

ALL THINGS TO ALL MEN.

Under the inlluenco of favouring breezes and
bright skies the Walrus swept gaily over the ocean
at the beginning of her voyage, with " stuns'ls alow
and aloft, royals and sky-scrapers," according to
Captain Stride. At least, if these were not the
exact words he used, they express pretty well what
he meant, namely, a " cloud of canvas."

But this felicitous state of things did not last.
The tropics were reached, where calms prevailed
with roasting heat. The Southern Atlantic was
gained, and gales were met with. The celebrated
Cape was doubled, and the gales, if we may say so,
were trebled. The Indian Ocean was crossed, and
the China Seas were entered, where typhoons blew
some of the sails to ribbons, and snapped off the top-
masts like pipe-stems. Then she sailed into the
great Pacific, and for a time the Walrus sported
pleasantly among the coral islands.

During all this time, and amid all these changes,
Charlie Brooke, true to his character, was the

OF THE SEA AND TIIE ROCKIFS. g,

busiest and most active man on boarf Not th»f

h-s own special duties gave l.im much to d„ t

until the vessel should reach nort fh '

light ; but our hero JT-,^ ' '" """'" ™"«''

ft , wut um "ero— -as Stride exn^es^Pf^ i«- «,« i.

always be doinrr" if u, , ;^P'^^««e^ »t-«must

Brooke's te^de,! y to m t ""^^1"ence of young
voluntarily to thiCrVe'lrkT "' .rT "
vations with the captain. ZTlaJt tt

learned to knot and stJice andTo '"'P'"'*'"'

f»,« u . . , splice, and to sew canvas with

nl o: r'^' •="'-"'«°'^<' '--'•■yandLi:^':

ingiy on the preparation of food wif h tha . i \

" txie caom. He was a splendid lisfcpnpr
be.ng much more anxious to ascertain el ly the

;Lrte.~'**°"°^^<''''«' Charlie was

of It tindTf .'"'" '° ^'^^''"^ -^»-«-

learned a hS .'" "''''''''"^' ""'^'^ «' home,

leainea a little rou»h-anf] fnmKi^

„,. ,^ *""o" ana-tumble surererv witli n

slight smattering of m^dicinp Tf '

hnf if ^..„H - ? ">^licine. It was not much.

"■" - ^^-v.d .u .e useful as far as it went, and his

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

ii I

"little knowledge" was not "dangerous," because he
modiisUr refused to go a single step beyond it in
tho \\ ay of practice, unless, indeed, he was urgently
pressed to do so by his ^jatients. In virtue of his
attainments, real and supposed, he came to be re-
cognised as thp doctor of the ship, for the l^alms
carried no medical man.

"Look here, Brooke," said tho only passenger
on board — a youth of somewhat delicate con-
stitution, who was making the voyage for the
sake of his health, — "I've got horrible toothache.
D'you think you can do anything for me ?"

"Let's have a look at it," said Charlie, with
kindly interest, though he felt half inclined to
smile at the intensely lugubrious expression of the
youth's face.

"Why, Ray wood, that is indeed a bad tooth;
nothing that I know of will improve it. There 's
a cavern in it big and black enough to call to
remembrance the Black Hole of Calcutta! A
red-hot wire might destroy the nerve, but I never
saw one used, and should not like to try it."

"Horrible!" exclaimed Ray wood. "I've been
mad with pain all the morning, and can't afiford to
be driven madder. Perhaps, somewhere or other in
the ship there may be a — a — thingumy."

" A whatumy ? " inquired the other.

"A key, or— or— pincers," groaned Ray wood, "for
extracting— oh ! man, couldn't you pull it out ? "

or THE SKA AND THE llOOKIIS. fj

"Easily." said Churlio. with a „„ile. ..iVo got
a pair of forceps-ulways carry the,,, in case of
need but never use tl.em unless the patient is
very bad, and muti have it out."

Poor Itaywood protested, with another groan, that
Ins was a case in point, and it ,nust come ont; so
Charhe sought for and found his forcei '•

"It won't take long, I suppose 1" said the patient
rather nervously, as he opened his mouth. ■

"Oh no. Only a moment or "

A fearful yell, followed by a gasp, announced to
the whole sh.p-3 company that a crisis of some sort
had been passed by some one, and the expert though
amateur dentist congratulated his patient on L
deliverance from the enemy.

Witt? '^7 "' "■* ""P'^ """"^'"y- ^°^'>^''' I""!
witnessed the operation. One was Dick Darvall

the seaman who chanced to be steering at the time'

and who could see through the open skylight what

was being enacted in the cabin. Another was the

captain, who stood beside him. The third was the

cabm-boy, Will Ward, who chanced to be cleaning

.ome brasses about the skylight at the time, and

was transfixed by what we may style delightfully.

honible sensations. These three watched the pro-

eeedings with profound interest, some sympathy

and not a little amusement. ^'

"Mind your helm, Darvall," said the Captain,

stiHin&ralaiiah aafVia -.rrvii i? i . ,

„ _.. .,.,. .....^ j^^^ ii;ierrea to bur

St on his ears.

CHAUUK TO THK nESOUE : A TALI

'ii m

"Ay, ay, sir," reflponcied tho seaman, bringiug
\m mind bock to his duty, as ho bestowed a wink
on tho brass-polishing cabin-boy.

"He's up to everything," said Darvall in a low
voice, referring to our hero.

" From pitch -and- toss to manslaughter," responded
the boy, with a broad grin.

" I do believe, Mr. Brooke, that you can turn your
hand to anything," said Captain Stride, as Charlie
came on deck a few minutes later. " Did you ever
study doctoring or surgery ? "

"Not regularly," answered Charlie; "but oc-
casionally I 'vo had the chance of visiting hospitals
and dissecting-rooms, besides hearing lectures on
anatomy, and I have taken advantage of my oppor-
tunities. Besides, I'm fond of mechanics; and
tooth-drawing is somewhat mechanical. Of course
I make no pretension to a knowledge of regular
dentistry, which involves, I believe, a scientific and
prolonged education."

"May be so, Mr. Brooke," returned the captain,
"but your knowledge seems deep and extensive
enough to me, for, except in the matter o' navigation,
I haven't myself had much schoolin', but I do like to
see a fellow that can use his hands. As I said to
my missus, not two days before I left 'er : ' Maggie,'
says I, ' a man that can't turn his hands to anything
ain't worth his salt. For why? He 's useless at sea,
an', by consequence, can't be of much value on land.'"

OF TIIK HKA AND THE HOCKIES. et

"Your reasoning ,, unan.wemblo," rctwued
Charlie, with a laugli. ^

" N»t .0 auro o' that," rejoined tho captain, with
« modestly dubiou, shako of hi. hea.1; ■• leastwise
however unanswerable it may be, my missus alway,
manages to answer it— somehow."

At that moment one of tho sailors came aft to
relieve the man-at-the-wheel.

Dick Darvall was a grave, tall, dark, and hand,
some man of about five-and-twen-y. with a huge
black beard, as line a seaman as one couhl wish to
.eo standing at a ship's helm, but he limped when
lie left his post and went forward.

"How's the leg to-day, Darvall 1" asked young
Brooke, as the man passed.
"Better, sir, tliankee."

"That's weU. I 'II change the dressing in half-
nn-hour. Don't disturb it till I co „e."
"Thankee, sir, I won't."

"Now then, Eaywood." said Charlie, desceudin-
to he cabin, where his patient was already busy
reading Maury's Pky^cal Geography of tlu Sea,
lot s have a look at the gum."
"Oh, it 's all right," said Eaywood. " U you know,
I think ono of the uses of severe pain is to make
one inexpressibly thankful for the mere absence of
It. Of course there is a little sensation of pain
eft which might make me growl at other times, but
. ^ .....,^, uvuiiuiiuuic now by contrast ! "

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

'III 1

il
'I

iiiii

" There is profound sagacity in your observations,"
returned Charlie, as he gave the gum a squeeze that
for a moment or two removed the comfort ; " there,
now, don't suck it, else you '11 renew the bleeding.
Keep your mouth shut."

With this caution the amateur dentist left the
cabin, and proceeded to the fore-part of the vessel.
In passing the steward's pantry a youthful voice
arrested him.

" Oh, please, sir," said Will Ward, the cabin-boy,
advancing with a slate in his hand, " I can't make
out the sum you set me yesterday, an' I 'm quite
sure I've tried and tried as hard as ever I could to
understand it."

"Let me see," said his friend, taking the slate
and sitting down on a locker. "Have you read
over the rule carefully ? "

" Yes, sir, I have, a dozen times at least, but it
won't come right," answered the boy, with wrinkles
enough on his young brow to indicate the very
depths of puzzlement.

"Fetch the book. Will, and let's examine it."

The book was brought, and at his teacher's re-
quest the boy read : —

"Add the interest to the principal, and then
multiply by "

" Multiply?" said Charlie, interrupting. " Look! "
He pointed to the sum on the slate, and repeated
" multiply."

re-

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 71

" Oh ! " exclaimed the cabin-boy, with a gasp of
reli3f and wide-open eyes, " I Ve divided 1 "

" That 's so, Will, and there 's a considerable differ-
ence between division and multiplication, as you '11
find all through life," remarked the teacher, with a
peculiar lift of his eyebrows, as he handed back the
slate and went on his way.

More than once in his progress "for'ard" he was
arrested by men who wished him to give advice, or
clear up difficulties in reference to subjects which
his encouragement or example had induced them to
take up, and to these claims on his attention or
assistance he accorded such a ready and cheerful
response that his pupils felt it to be a positive
pleasure to appeal to him, though they each pro-
fessed to regret giving him " trouble." The boat-
swain, who was an amiable though gruff man in his
way, expressed pretty well the feelings of the ship's
company towards our hero when he said : " I tell
you, mates, I 'd sooner la rubbed up the wrong way,
an' kicked down the fore hatch by Mr. Brooke, than
I 'd be smoothed or buttered by anybody else."

At last the fo'c'sl was reached, and there our
surgeon found his patient, Dick Darvall, awaiting
him. The stout seaman's leg had been severely
bruised by a blcck which had fallen from aloft and
struck it during one of the recent gales.

" A good deal better to-day," said Charlie. " Does
it pain you much ? "

1 1

M
it

I-
(I
(I

{J
•J

;■

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" Not nearly as much as it did yesterday, sir. It 's
my opinion that I '11 be all right in a day or two.
Seems t
about it.

me outrageous to make so much ado

" If we didn't take care of it, my man, it might
cost you your limb, and we can't afford to bury
such a well-made member before its time! You
must give it perfect rest for a day or two. I '11
speak to the captain about it."

" I 'd rather you didn't, sir," objected the seaman.
"I feel able enough to go about, and my mates '11
think I 'm shirkin' dooty."

" There 's not a man a-board as '11 think that o'
Dick Darvall," growled the boatswain, who had just
entered and heard the last remark.

"Eight, bo's'n," said Brooke, "you have well ex-
pressed the thought that came into my own head."

"Have ye seen Samson yet, air?" asked the
boatswain, with an unusually grave look.

" No ; I was just going to inquire about him. No
worse, I hope ? "

" I think he is, sir. Seems to me that he ain't
long for this world. The life 's bin too much for
him : he never was cut out for a sailor, an' he takes
things so much to heart that I do believe worry is
doin' more than work to drive him on the rocks."

" I '11 go and see h im at once," said our hero.

Fred Samson, the sick man referred to, had been
put into a swing-cot in a berth amidships to give

11
1

I'll

OF THE SEA AND THK ROCKIES. 73

him as much rest as possible. To all appearance
he was slowly dying of consumption. When Brooke
entered he was leaning on one elbow, gazing wist-
fully through the port-hole close to his head. His
countenance, on which the stamp of death was
evidently imprinted, was unusually refined for one
m his station in Ufe.

" I'm glad you have come, Mr. Brooke," he said
slowly, as his visitor advanced and took his thin
hand.

"My poor fellow," said Charlie, in a tone of low
but tender sympathy, «I wish with all my heart I
could do you any good."

" The sight of your kind face does me good "
returned the sailor, with a pause for breath between
almost every other word. "I don't want you to
doctor me any more. I feel that I 'm past that, but
1 want to P:Tve you a message and a packet for my
mother. Of course you will be in London when •
you return to England. Will you find her out and
deliver the packet ? It contains only the Testament
she gave me at parting and a letter."

"My dear fellow-you may depend on me"
rephed Brooke earnestly. « Where does she live ? '"

''In Whitechapel. The full address is on the
packet. The letter enclosed tells all that I have to
say."

" But you spoke of a message," said Brooke, seeing
that he paused and shut his oimc

■ii

3 ,

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" Yes, yes," returned the dying man eagerly, " I
forgot. Give her my dear love, and say that my
last thoughts were of herself and God. She always
feared that I was trusting too much in myself— in
my own good resolutions and reformation; so I
have been— but that 's past. Tell her that God in
His mercy has snapped that broken reed altogether,
and enabled me to rest my soul on Jesus."

As the dying man was much exhausted by his
efforts to speak, his visitor refrained from asking
more questions. He merely whispered a comforting
text of Scripture and left him apparently sinking

into a state of repose.
Then, having bandaged the finger of a man who

had carelessly cut himself while using his knife

aloft, Charlie returned to the cabin to continue an

interrupted discussion with the first mate on the

subject of astronomy.
From all which it will be seen that our hero's

tendencies inclined him to be as much as possible

" all things to all men."

TH£

freque:
and in
often 1
— ^resu]
Soon
to in tl:
the Pa
pletion
engaged
this bui
bottom
with lit
years,
each bei
of W(\"k
proop' !y
i«ight b<
labours \
ing had

OF TUB SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

CHAPTER VI.

BiSAsran, siinvATioH, akd Diaiii,
The least observant of mortals muat have
frequently been impressed with the fact that events

often Sf °' '" ''PP"*""^ *"«'»g -J-^iption
iTsulL '"°°'«'"<'««-=o'netimes tremendous

to fnT "^rV"! '"''""'""' ""f "■« ^"''■dents referred

the Pacific Ocean were drawing towards the com-
pletron of a buildiug on which they had been
engaged for a long time. Li':e some lighthouses

"toroti^trrdr-^-^^^^^

pITk • T ^'"^ ""*" '"^'g^ificant creatures

» ,! ■ t r^' ; '^"- " '' ''^'^ "^^^^ '^^'-'^ to do

S r ';"! '"""'"'" °' ^"""8 -'-t tl^e result
n ght be, and then ending his, her. r its modest
aboura with Hfe. It was when this marine WH

«g had nsen to within eight or ton feet of the

■1 !

■ - n t~

()

i;
ii
I'

* p

•i M^^

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

111

surface of tlie sea that the Walrm chanced to draw
near to it, but no one on board was aware of the
existence of that coral-reef, for up to the period we
write of it had failed to attract the attention of
chart-makers.

The vessel was bowling along at a moderate rate
over a calm sea, for the light breeze overhead that
failed to ruffle the water filled her topsails. Had
the wind been stormy a line of breakers would have
indicated the dangerous reef. As it was there was
nothing to tell that the good ship was rushing on
her doom till she struck with a violent shock and
remained fast.

Of course Captain Stride was equal to the emer-
gency. By the quiet decision with which he went
about and gave his orders he calmed the fears of
such of his crew as were apt to " lose their heads "
in the midst of sudden catastrophe.

"Lowor away the boats, lads. We'll get her
off right away," he said, in a quick but quiet
tone.

Charlie Brooke, being a strong believer in strict
discipline, at once ran to obey the order, accom-
panied by the most active among the men, while
others ran to slack off the sheets and low^.r the
topsails.

In a few minutes nearly all the men were in the
boats, with hawsers fixed to the stern of the vessel,
doing their uttermost to pull her off.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. JJ

Charlie had been ordered to remain on deck when
the crew took to the boats.

•■Come here, Mr. Brooke, I want you," said the
_Capta.n leading his young Triend to tke 1 n

is done'^2::!"" '^ "^ "■"' '--^ P- «•'• «'«'-

anl'ions ::;? ""' ""'■ "^•" -'^ «'>"1^«. "^th

tumt, '.'J''^"'"' ^'" °*"'^ *« I"""""." re-
turned he Captain, with unwonted gravity "If

she don t move in a few minutes, I -11 try wha

i'eavmg out some o' the cargo will do. As super

cargo, you know where ifs all stowed, so, if yT' ,

pmt out to me which is the least valooaMe, an' a

he same t:me heaviest part of it. I -11 send vhe ma e

and four men to git it on deck. But to tell you the

t^th even if we do git her off I don't think she 1

float. She's an oldish craft, not fit to have he

bottom rasped on coral rocks. But we'll soon

See.

Charlie could not help observing that there was
somethmg peculiarly sad in the Le of the 2
mans voice. Whether it was that the poor capta n
knew the case to be utterly hopeless, or that he%^s
overwhelmed by this calamity coming upon him so

nTteit T: rf "' ''' '^' ^•>'P:CiLlie tuld
not ten, but he had no time to think, for after he had

pomted out to the mate the bales that could be most
easily spared he was again summoned aft

HI i

i "!l

I f

CHARLIE TO THE RRSCUE : A TALE

m ^

"Sho don't move," said the captain, gloomily.
" Wo must git the boats ready, for if it comes on to
blow only a little harder we '11 have to take to 'em.
So do you and the stooard putt your heads together
an' git up as much provisions as you think the
boats will safely carry. Only necessaries, of course,
an' take plenty o' water. I '11 see to it that charts,
compasses, canvas, and other odds and ends are
ready."

Again young Brooke went off, without saying a
word, to carry out his instructions. Meanwhile one
of the boats was recalled, and her crew set to lighten
the ship by heaving part of the cargo overboard.
Still the Walrus remained immovable on the reef,
for the force with which she struck had sent her
high upon it.

•' If we have to take to the boats, sir," said Charlie,
when he was disengaged, "it may be well to put
some medicines on board, for poor Samson will "

" Ay, ay, do so, lad," said the captain, interrupt-
ing; "I've been thinkin' o' that, an' you may as
well rig up some sort o' couch for the poor fellow
in the long-boat, for I mean to take him along wi'
myself."

" Are you so sure, then, that there is no chance of
our getting her off ?"

"Quite sure. Look there." He pointed, as he
spoke, to the horizon to windward, where a line of
cloud rested on the sea. That'll not be long o'

« I

or THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. Jf

comin- here It won't blow veiy hard, but it'll be
hard enough to smash the old H^cUtk, to bits »
you ve got any valooablcs aboard that you 'd rather
"ot lose you 'd better stud' 'em in your pockets now.
When things come to the wust mind your helm, an'

look out, as I used to say to my missus "

He stopped abruptly and turned away. Evidently

the thought of the "missus" was too mueh for

him just then.

Charlie Brooke hurried off to visit the sick man
and prepare him for the sad change in his oositio.'
that had now become unavoidable. But another
visitor had been to see the invalid before him.
Entering the berth softly, and with a quiet look, so
as not to agitate the patient needlessly, he found to
i«s regret, though not surprise, that poor Fred Sam-
son was dead. There was a smile on the pale face,
which was turned towards the port window, as i^
the dying man had been taking a last look of the
sea and sky when Death laid a hand gently on his
brow and smoothed away the wrinkles of suirerintr
and care. A letter from his mother, held tightly in
one hand and pressed upon his breast told elo-
quently what was the subject of his last thoughts

Charlie cut a lock of hair from the sailor's brow
with his clasp-knife, and, taking the letter gently
irom the dead hand, wrapped it therein.

"There's no time t» bury him now. His berth
must be the poor fellow's coffin," said Captain Stride

1 t

'mm ■

OIIARLIK ro IU« BESCDl : A TAM

wl.en tho death w,« reported to hiu,. "The ,woll
o the coromg squall has reached us already. Look
ahve wi- the boats, men I "

By that tin.e tho rising swell was in truth lifting
the vessel every few seconds and letting l.or down
wuh a soft thud on the coral reef. It so'on hecar:
ev dent to every one on board that the mirus had
not many hours to live-perhaps not n.any minutes
-for the squall to which tho Captain had referred
was rap.dly bearing down, and each successi e Zd
became more violent than tho previous one. Know-
2 'he^ danger full well, the men worked with a
-.11 and m a few minutes three boats, well pro-
visioned, were floating on the sea. ^

lonf boat f "''"' "'' '" """«'<='«"' «-' *e
long-boat-drawmg as she did considerably moro

water than the others-touched twice when tl

swells let her drop into their hollows
It was arranged that Charlie should go in the

ong boat wxth the captain, Eaywood the passen^^
and ten men of the crew. The remainder were to
be divided between the other two boats which were

in "tin '"' T""""'" ""'^^ *« ^"P'"'"' '^ he sat
m the tern-sheets looking up at our hero, who

wa busily engaged assisting the first mate to com-
plete the arrangements of his boat, "weVe struck

he swell
^ Look

h lifting
or down
became
^rus had
minutes
referred
ve thud
ICnow-
with a
II pro-

for the

lat the

m the

in the
anger,
3re to
were
fficers

e sat

who

com-

/ruck

twice
ready 1

or TlIK SEA AND HIE IIOCKIBS. 81

«lren.Iy. I n,u,t ahovo off. la Ifnywood

_apta.D " Yo« a,,' Raywood can oome „fr with on!
1 10 other boats r 'ii („r °"''

deepwater-CeoVir"^"' """'^ '^'- -

luiiowea. jvo time to lose !"
The p^ ^„^,,^^ ^^ ■

1.0 side, and took his scat beside Charlie mt a tie
>ou« threatened squall burst upon then, ' "'"

walr wHhr "" r '' ""' ''"^ """•=" -'o deep
water w,th the seeond date's boat, whieh had already'

Fortunate was it for the whole crew that Captain
Stnde had provided for every emergencv andTh!
among other safeguards, he hL pntirrCt

.nLT. T ^°''^- ^°' ^"l' these they were

Ji^i

f •

^^.^<

r«.v^<

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

1.1

11.25

^1^ 1^

0^,

Sciences
Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.>. 14580

(716) 872-4503

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

the Utmost attention of each steersman to keep his
craft afloat, and when at last the light began to fade
the boats were almost out of sight of each other.

"No chance, I fear, of our ever meeting again,"
remarked the mate, as he cast a wistful look at the
southern horizon where the sail of the long-boat
could be barely seen like the wing of a sea-gull.
"Your lot has been cast with us, Mr. Brooke, so
you *11 have to make the best of it."

" I always try to make the best of things," replied
CharUe. " My chief regret at present is that Eay-
wood and I, being two extra hands, will help to
consume your provisions too fast."

" Luckily my appetite is a poor one," said Ray-
wood, with a faint smile; "and it's not likely to
improve in the circumstances."

" I 'm iiot so sure o' that, sir," returned the mate,
with an air that was meant to be reassuring ; " fresh
air and exposure have effected wonders before now
in the matter of health— so they say. Another pull
on the halyards, Dick ; that looks like a fresh squall.
Mind your sheets. Will Ward."

A prompt "Ay, ay, sir "from Dick Darvall and
the cabin-boy showed that each was alive to the
importance of the duty required of him, while the
other men— of whom there were six— busied them-
selves in making the tarpaulin coverings more
secure, or m baling out the water which, in spite of
them, had found its way into the boat.

OF THE SBA AND THE KOCKIES. 83

Charlie rose and seated himself on the thwart

tot:' f """"""^ '^'^^ ^'^-^ ^-^ - a^

to have a clearer view ahead under the sa^

Long-boat nowhere to be seen now" he m,.r
mured half to himself after a long look

in '7°' '"T"" ""' °*'"' '""'* "'•'«'•" »"« Danrall
L:.r«' vo:ce. "We shaU never see W no

"I hope you are wrong," returned CharHe • "in
deed I feel sure that the weather will clear durilfi

iol ToW' """ "* ^""^ '""^ ^''*'' "-"^ »>«

"Maybe so, sir," rejoined the sailor, in the tone
of one wallu^g to be, but not yet, convi;ced.

Our hero was right as to the first, but not as to
t^e^cond, point The weather did clear du^th^
mght, bu when the sun arose next morning on a

IZT.^ u-/° *""' ^^'-y °''J«'" that could
arrest the eye had vanished from the scene leaX^

tiny craft formed the centre.

5»

I-
ii

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE *

CHAPTER VII.

ADRIFT ON THE 8EA.

"You are ill, Will Ward," was Dick Durvall's
first remark when there was sufficient daylight to
distinguish faces.

"You're another!" was the cabin-boy's quick,
facetious retort, which caused Darvall to smile and
had the effect of rousing the half-sleeping crew.

" But you are ill, my boy," repeated the seaman
earnestly.

"No, Dick, not exactly ill," returned Will, with a
faint smile, " but I 'm queer."

Each man had spent that stormy night on the
particular thwart on whiux he had chanced to sit
down when he first entered the boat, so that all were
looking more or less weary, but seamen are used to
uncomfortable and interrupted slumbers. They
soon roused themselves and began to look about and
make a few comments on the weather. Some, re-
curring naturally to their beloved indulgence, pulled
out their pipes and filled them.

"Have 'ee a light, Jim ? " asked a rugged man, in
a sleepy tone, of a comrade behind him.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 86

" No, Jack, I haven't," answered Jim, in a less
sleepy tone, slapping all his pockete and thrusting
his hands into them.

"Have you, Dick?" asked the rugged man in
some anxiety.

"No, I haven't," replied Darvall, in a very serious
voice, as he also took to slapping his pockets : "no
— nor baccy!"

It was curious to note at this point how every
seaman in that boat became suddenly sympathetic
and wide awake, and took to hasty, anxious examina-
tion of all his pockets-vest, jackr.., and trousers.
The result was the discovery of a good many clay
pipes, more or less blackened and shortened, with a
few plugs of tobacco, but not a single match, either
fusee or congreve. The men looked at each other
with something akin to despair.

"Was no matches putt on board wi' the grub an'
other things ?" asked Jim in a solemn tone.
"And no tobacco ?" inquired the mate.
No one could answer in the affirmative. A
general sigh-like a miniature squall-burst from
the sailors, and relieved them a little. Jim put his
pipe between his lips, and meekly began, if we may
say so, to smoke his tobacco dry. At an order from
the mate the men got out the oars and began to
pull, for there was barely enough wind to fill the
sail.

"No rest for us, lads, 'cept when it blows," said

K
ii

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

the mate. " The nearest land that I know of is five
hundred miles off as the crow flies. We 'vo got a
compass by good luck, so we can make for it but
the grub on board won't hold out for quarter o'\hat
distance, so, unless we fall in with a ship, or fish
jump aboard of us, ye know what 's before us."

"Have we any spirits aboard?" asked the rugged
man, in a growling, somewhat sulky, voice.
"Hear— hear!" exclaimed Jim.
"No, Jack," returned the mate; "at least not for
the purpose o' lettin' you have 'a short Ufe an' a
merry ,one.' Now, look here, men : it has pie .sed
Providence to putt you an' me in something of a fix
and I shouldn't wonder if we was to have some
stiffish experiences before we see the end of it. It
has also pleased Providence to putt me here in
command. You know I 'm not given to boastin'
but there are times when it is advisable to have'
plam speakin'. There is a smaU supply of spirits
aboard, and I just want to tell 'ee-merely as a piece
of useful information, and to prevent any chance o'
future trouble-that as I've got charge o' them
spirits I mean to keep chaise of 'em."

The mate spoke in a low, soft voice, without the
slightest appearance of threat or determination in
his manner, but as he concluded he unbuttoned his
pilot-cloth coat, and pointed to the butt of a revolver
which prbtruded from one of his vest pockets.
The men made no reply, but instinctively glanced

lijl

OF THE SEA AND THE ROOKIES. 87

at the two biggest and strongest men in the boat

These were Charlie Brooke and Dick Darvall

Obviously, before committing themselves further

they wished, if possible, to read in the faces of these'

two what they thought of the mate's speech. They

failed to read much, if anything at all, for Charlie's

eyes were fixed in dreamy expressionless abstraction

on the horizon, and Dick was gazing up into the

clouds, with a look of intense benignity-suggestinc

that he was holding pleasant intercourse with any

celestial creatures who might be resident there.

Without a word the whole crew bent to their oars
and resigned themselves to the inevitable. Perhaps'
if each man had expressed his true feelings at that
moment he would have said that he was glad to
know there was a firm hand at the helm. For there
are few things more uncomfortable in any com-
munity, large or small, than the absence of disci-
plme, or the presence of a weak will in a position of
power.

"But I say, Will," remarked Darvall, who pulled
the stroke-oar, "you really do look ill.' Is anything
the matter with 'ee ?" '' o

"Nothin', Dick; 'cept that I'm tired," answered
the cabin-boy.

"Breakfast will put that right," said our hero in
an encouraging tone. "Let's feel your pulse.
Hm ! Well, might be slower. Come, Captain," he
added, giving the mate his new title as he turned to

Sli«40^

CHARLIE TO THR RESCUF : A TAT.R

'Mi

him, « will you allow me to prescribe breakfast
for this patient ?"

" Certainly. Doctor." returned the mate cheerily.
" Come, lads, we '11 all have breakfast together."

In a few minutes the biscuit and salt junk
barrels were opened, and the mate measured out an
exactly equal proportion of food to each man. Then
following the example of a celebrated commander.'
and m order to prevent dissatisfaction on the part
of any with his portion, he caused one of the men
to turn his back on the food, and, pointing to one of
the portions said, " Who shall have this ?"
"The Doctor, sir," returned the man promptly.
The portion was immediately handed to Charlie
Brooke amid a general laugh.

Thus every portion was disposed of, and the men
sat down to eat in good-humour, in spite of the too
evident fact that they had been at once placed on
short allov ance. for, when each had finished, he
assuredly wished for more, though no one ventured
to give expression to the wish.

The only exception was the little cabin-boy, who
made a brave attempt to eat, but utterly failed at
the second mouthful.

"Come, Will," said Charlie in a kindly tone, pre-
tending to misunderstand the state of matters
"don't try to deceive yourself by prolonging your
breakfast. That won't make more of it. See, here
I'm not up to eating much to-day, somehow, so I'll

OF THE 8«A AND THE ROOKIES. 89

b« greatly obliged if you will diapoae cf half of mine
M well as your own. Next time I am hungry, and
you are not, I '11 expect you to do the same "

But Will Ward could not be thus induced to eat
He was really ill, and before night was in a high
fever. You may be sure that Dr. Brooke, as every

suff rer, but, of course, he could do very little, for
a 1 the medicmes which he had prepared had been
put mto the long-boat, and, in a small open boat,
with no comforts, no medicines, and on short allow-
ance of food, little could be done, except to give the
boy a space of the floor on which to lie, to shield
him from spray, and to cover him with blankets.

For a week the boat was carried over the sea by
a fresh, steady breeze, during which time the sun
shone out frequently, so that things seemed not so
wretched as one might suppose to the shipwrecked
manners. Of course the poor cabin-boy was an
exception. Although his feverish attack was a
shght one he felt very weak and misemble after it.
His appetite began to return, however, and it was
evident that the short daily allowance would be
insufficient for him. When this point was reached
Dick Darvall one day, when rations were being
served out, ventured to deliver an opinion

"Captain and mates all," he said, while a sort of
bashful smile played upon his sunburnt features "it
do seem to me that we should agree, each man, to

I M

i t.i

^11

1 i

ill

ciiARrjp: TO Tin? rescue : a tale

give up a share of our rations to little Will Ward,
so that ho may be able to feed up a bit an' git the
better o' this here sickness. We won't feel the
want of such a little crumb each, an' he '11 be ever
so much the better for it."

"Agreed," chorused the men, apparently without
exception.

"All right, lads," said the mate, while a rare
smile lighted up for a moment his usually stern
countenance ; " when the need for such self-denial
comes I '11 call on ye to exercise it, but it ain't called
for yet, because I 've been lookin' after the interests
0' Will Ward while he 's been ill. Justice, you see,
stands first o' the virtues in ray mind, an' it 's my
opinion that it wouldn't be justice, but something
very much the reverse, if we were to rob the poor
boy of his victuals just because he couldn't eat
them."

"Right you are, sir," interposed Dick DarvalL
" Well, then, holdin' these views," continued the
mate, "I have put aside Will Ward's share every
time the rations were served, so here 's what belongs
to him—in this keg for the meat, and this bag for
the biscuit—ready for him to fall-to whenever his
twist is strong enough." .

There were marks of hearty approval, mingled
with laughter, among the men on hearing this, but
they stopped abruptly and listened for more on
observing a perplexed look on their leader's face.

or TIIR SKA AND THE ROCKIES. 91

" But there 'g something that puzzles mo about it
lads, resumed the mate, "and it is this, that the
«rub has somehow accumulated faster than I can
account for, considering the smalluess o' the addition
to the lot each time."

On I'earing this the men were a little surprised,
but Charlie Brooke burst into a short laugh.

"What I" ho exclaimed, "you don't mean to say
that the victuals have taken root and begun to
grow, do you 1"

"I don't mean to m}/ anything," returned the
mate quietly; "but I'm inclined to think a good
deal jf you 've no objection, Doctor."

"How d'eefeelnow, Will?" said CharIie,8tooping
forward at the moment, for he observed that the
boy-whose bed was on the floor at his feet-had
moved and was gazing up at him with eyes that
seemed to have grown enormously since their owner
fell sick.

"I feel queer-and-and-I 'm inclined to think.
too, returned Will in a faint voice.

Nothing more was said at that time, for a sudden
shift in the wind necessitated a shift of the sail, but
Dick Darvall nodded his head significantly, and it
«tme to be understood that " Doctor " Brooke had
regularly robbed himself of part of his meagre
allowance in order to increase the store of the cabto-
boy. Whether they were right in this conjecture
has never been distinctly ascertained. liut all

•i

CRARUR TO TOE RR8CUI : A TALI

attempta to benefit the boy were soon after fhistrated
for. wlulo life wiu, little more than trembling in the
balance with Will Ward, a gale burst «iH)n them
which sealed his fate.

It was not the rougher motion of the l>oat that
did It. for the boy was used to that ; nor the flashing
of the salt spray inboard, for his comrades guarded
him to some extent from that During the alarm
caused by a wave which nearly swamped the boat
two of the crew in their panic seized the first things'
that came to hand and flung them overboard to pre-
vent their sinking. whUe the rest baled with cans
and sou'-westers for their lives. The portion of
ading thus sacrificed turned out to bo the staff of
life— the casks of biscuit and pork I

It was a terrible shock to these unfortunates when
the full extent of the calamity was underatood, and
the firmness of the mate, with a sight of the revolver
alone prevented summary vengeance being executed
on the wretKjhed men who had acted so hastily in
their blind terror.

Only a small keg of biscuit remained to them
This was soon expended, and then the process of
absolute starvation began. Every nook and cranny
of the boat was searched again and again in the
hope of something eatable being found, but only a
small pot of lard-intended probably to grease the
tackhng-was discovered. With a dreadful expres-
sion in their eyes some of the men glared at it ^nd

or TH« SEA AND TOI! ROCKIKII. {3

Ihore would, no ,l«ubt. havo boon a deadly struRsIo
for It If the maU> had not wid, " Fetch it how " in ,
voice which none dared to disobey.

It formed butamouthful toeach.yet the poor («|.
lows devoured it with the grce.I of ravenin„ wolves
and carefully licked tl.oir HnKor, when it w«, done."
The little cabin-boy h,ul three portions allotted to
hmi, because Charlie Hrooko and Dick Darvall added
their allowance to his without allowing him to bo
aware of the fact.

But the extra allowance and kindness, althouoh
hey added greatly to his comfort, could not stay
the hand of Death. Slowly but surely the Destroyer
came and claimed the young life. It was a sweet
calm evening when the summons came. The sea
was like glass, with only that long, gentle swell
vhich tells even in the profoundest calm of Ocean's
...stability. The sky was intensely blue, save on
the western horizon, whore the sun turned it into
Hold. It seemed as if all Nature were quietly indif-
forent to the sufferings of the shipwrecked men
some of whom had reached that terrible condition
of starvation when all the softer feelings of humanity
seem dead, for, although no whisper of their intention
passed the.r lips, their looks told all too plainly that
they awaited the death of the cabin-boy with im-
patience, that they might appease the intolerable
pangs of hunger by resorting to cannibaUsm
Charlie Brooke, who had been comforting the

I M
I «

f m

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

ttmimv imr

dying lad all day, and whispering t,o him words of
consolation from God's book from time to time,
knew well what those looks meant. So did the
mate, who sat grim, gaunt, Pnd silent at h?s post,
taking no notice apparently of what went on arourd
him. Fortunately the poor boy was too far gone to
ob&erve the looks of his mates.

Thers was a can of paraffin oil, which had been
thrown into the boat under the impression that it
was something else. This had been avoided hitherto
by the starving men, who deemed it to be poisonous.
That evening the man called Jim lost control of
himself, seized the can, and took a long draught of
the oil. vv'hether it was the effect of that we can-
not tell, but it seemed to drive him mad, for no
sooner had he swallowed it than he uttered a wild
shout, drew his knife, sprang up and leaped towards
the place where the cabin-boy lay.

The mate, who hf.d foreseen something of the
kind, drew and levelled his revolver, but before he
could lire Charlie had caught the uplifted arm,
wrested the knife from the man, and thrust him
violently back. Thus foiled Jim sprang up again
and with a maniac's yell leaped into the sea, and
swam resolutely away.

Even in their dire extremity the sailors could
not see a comrade perish with indifference. They
jumped up, hastily got out the oars, and pulled after
him, but their arms were very weak ; before they

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 96

could overtake him the man had sunk to rise no
more.

It was while tliis scene was being enacted that the
spirit of the cabin-boy passed away. On ascertain-
iiig that he was dead Charlie covered him with a
tarpaulin where he lay, but no word was uttered by
pny one, and the mate, with revolver stiU in hand
sat there— grim and silent— holding the tiller as'
if steering, and gazing sternly on the horizon
Yet It was not difficult to divine the thoughts of
those unhappy and sorely tried men. Some by
their savage glare at the cover that concealed the
dead body showed plainly their dreadful desires
Brooke, Darvall, and the mate showed as clearly by
their compressed lips and stern brows that they
would resist any attempt to gratify these.

Suddenly the mate's brow cleared, and his eyes
opened wide as he muttered, under his breath " A
sail!"

"A sail! a sail !» shrieked the man in the bow at
the same moment, as he leaped up and tried to
cheer, but he only gasped and fell back in a swoon
into a comrade's arms.

It was indeed a sail, which soon grew larger,
and ere long a ship was descried bearing straight
towards them before a very light breeze. In less
than an hour the castaways stood upon her deck
— saved-

CHAKUE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

CHAPTER VIII.

INORATITUDB.

A YEAR or more passed away, and then there
came a cablegram from New York to Jacob
Cross)ey, Esquire, from Captain Stride. The old
gentleman was at breakfast when he received it
and his housekeeper, Mrs. Bland, was in the act
of setting before him a dish of buttered toast
when he opened the envelope. At the first glance
he started up, overturned his cup of cofifee, with-
out paying the least attention to the fact, and
exclaimed with emphasis—
" As I expected. It is lost!"
" 'Ow could you expect it, sir, to be anythink else,
w'en you've sent it all over the table-cloth?" said
Mrs. PJand, in some surprise.

"It is not that, Mrs. Bland," said Mr. Crossley,
m a hurried manner; "it is my ship the Walrus'.
Of course I knew long ago that it must have been
lost," continued the old gentleman, speaking his
thoughts more to himself than to the housekeeper,
who was carefully spooning up the spilt coffee-

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

best

of it is that the Captain has

"but the
escaped."

"Well, I'm sure, sir," said Mrs. Bland, conde-
scendmg to be interested, and to ignore, if not to for-
get, the coflfee, " I 'm very glad to 'ear it, sir, for
Captain Stride is a pleasant, cheery sort of man, and
would be agreeable company if 'e didn't use so much

• sea-languidge, and speak so much of 'is missis. An'
I 'm glad to 'ear it too, sir, on account o' that fine
young man that sailed with 'im-Mr. Book, I think
was " *

"No, Mrs. Bland, it was Brooke; but that's the
worst of the business," said the old gentleman ; « I 'm
not quite sure whether young Brooke is among the
saved. Here is what the telegram says :-—

"'From Captain Stride to Jacob Crossley. Just
arrived' (that's in New York, Mrs. Bland)-

• Walrus lost. All hands left her in three boats!
Our boat made uninhabited island, and knocked to
pieces. Eight months on the island. Eescued by
American barque. Fate of other boats unknown.
Will be home within a couple of weeks.' "

" Why, it sounds like BoHnson Crusoe, sir, don't it?
which I read when I was quite a gurl, but I don't
believe it myself, though they do say it 's all true
Young Mr. Leather will be glad to 'ear the good "
noos of 'is friend "

"But this is not good news of his friend; if. ?«

"eman

mceil

genth

{;

III ■ !
I

r ♦,

CHARLIE TO THE KESOUE : A TALK

k H

quickly. "Now 1 think of it, Mrs. Ulaud, Mr.
Luatlujr is to cull liui'(5 by appointinont this very
inoniing, so you imist bo particuljuly careful not to
say a word to him about this tolograin, or Captain
Stride, or anytliiug 1 havo told you about tho lost
ship—you understand, Mrs. IJlund ?"

"Certainly, sir," said tjje liousekeepor, somowhat
hurt by the doubt thus iniidied as to tho caimeity
of her understanding. "Shall I bring you some
more toast, sir ? " she added, with tho virtuous feeling
that by this question she was returning good for evil.
"No, thank you. Now, Mrs. lUand, don't forgot.
Not a word about this to any one."

"'Ooks an' rcd-'ot pincers wouldn't draw a syl-
lable out of me, sir," retuined tho good woman,
departing with an offended air, and leaving her
master to understand that, in her opinion, such
instruments might have a very different effect upon
hivi.

"Ass tliat I was to speak of it to her at all."

muttered Mr. Crossloy, walking up and down the

room with spectacles on forehead, and with both

hands in his trousers-pockets creating disturbance

among the keys and coppers. " I might have known

that she could not hold her tongue. It would never

do to let Mrs. Brooke remain on the tenter-hooks

till Stride conies home to clear the matter up. Poor

Mrs. Brooke ! No wonder she is almost broken down..

This hoping against hope is so wearing. And she 's

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

'i:

such
upon

so lonely. To be sure, sweet May Leather runs out
and in like a beam of sunsliine ; but it must be hard,
very hard, to lose an only son in this way. It
would be almost better to know that he was dead.
Il'm ! and thine 's tliat good-for-nothing Shank. The
mscul ! and yet lie 's not absolutely good for nothing
—if he would only give up drink. Well, while
there 's life tliere 's hope, thank God ! I '11 give him
another trial."

The old man's brow was severely wrinkled while
he indulged in these mutterings, but it cleared, and
a kindly look beamed on his countenance as he gave
vent to the last expression.

Just then the door bell rang. Mr. Crossley re-
sumed the grave look that was habitual to him, and
next minute Shank Leather was ushered into the
room.

The youth was considerably changed since we
last met him. The year which had passed had
developed him into a man, and clothed his upper
lip with something visible to the naked eye. It
had also lengthened his limbs, deepened his chest,
and broadened his shoulders. But here the change
for the better ended. In that space of time there
had come over him a decided air of dissipation, and
the freshness suitable to y -vfh had disappeared.

With a look that was somewhat defiant he entered
the room an^l look^'l bni/iiTT o*. uco 1

" Be seated, Mr. Leather," said the old gentleman

(

Ill

III

; 1:

I) i!

100 CHAnLIE TO THE KBSOUB : A TALI

in a voice SO soft that the young man evidently felt
abashed, but he as evidently steeled himself against
better feelings, for he replied—
"Thank you, Mr. Crossley, I 'd rather stand."
"As you please," returned the other, restraining
...nself "I sent for you, Mr. Leather, to tell you
that I have heard with sincere regret of your last
outbreak, and "

" Yes sir," said Shank, rudely interrupting, "and
• I came here not so much to hear what you have to
say about my outbreak-as you are pleased to style
a little joll,fieation-as to tell you that you had
better provide yourself with another clerk for I
don't intend to return to your office. I 've eot a
better situation."

" Oh, indeed !" exclaimed Crossley in surprise.

Yes, indeed," replied Shank insolently.
It was evident that the youth was, even at that
moment, under the influence of his great enemv
else his better feelings would have prevented him
from speaking so rudely to a man who had never
shown him anything but kindness. But he was
nettled by some of his bad companions havin.
taunted him with his slavery to his besetting sin°
and had wsponded to Mr. Crossley's summons under
the impression that he was going to get what he
styled a " wigging." He was therefore taken some-
what aback when the old gentleman replied to his
last remurk gently.

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

101

ntly felt
against

id."

training
ell you
)ur last

?, " and
liave to
;o style
3U had
, for I
got a

36.

t that
nemy,
I him
never
) was
aving
? sin,
mder
it he
ome-
3 his

"I congratulate you, Mr. Leather, on getting a
better situation (if it really should turn out to be
better), and I sincerely hope it may— for your
mother's sake as well as your own. This therefore
disposes of part of my object in asking you to call—
which was to say that I meant to pass over this
offence and retain you in my employment. But it
does not supersede the necessity of my urging you
earnestly to give up drink, not so much on the ground
that it will surely lead you to destruction as on the
consideration that it grieves the loving Father who
has bestowed on you the very powers of enjoyment
which you are now prostituting, and who is at this
moment holding out His hands to you and waiting
to be gracious."

The old man stopped abruptly, and Shank stood
with eyes fixed on the floor and frowning brow.

"Have you anything more to say to me?" asked
Mr. Crossley.

« Nothing."

"Then good-morning. As I can do nothing else
to serve you, I will pray for you."

Shank found himself in the street with feelings of
surprise strong upon him.

" Pray for me I " he muttered, as he walked slowly
along. "It never occurred to me before that he
prayed at all ! The old humbug has more need to

nrnv {nr hirnaolf t '»

(I
(I

\:
I

loa

OHAHLIK 10 THE nESCUK: A TALE

CTTAl'TER IX.

•HANK „.VKAr,3 aoMET..,»a «„„B OV ,m CULAOTEB.

leather found himself ere long at his mother's door.

ile entered without knocking.

"Shank I" exclaimed Mrs. Leather and May in
the same breath.

"Ay mother, it 's me. A bad shilling, they say
always turns up. /always turn up. therefore / am
a bad shilling I Sound logic that, eh. May ? "

talL^ 1 '^'"^ ■'«■• kMtting-aeedles on the
able; you W I'm always glad to see you, but

;egrS'"^''^^^'^-'''^'^^^'^-"»ofyour

An7M '"f ''i'"^ ""'PP'""'' ^ " ""^'^ May anxiously.
And May looked very sweet, almost pretty, when
she was anxious. A year had refined her Lul"

her into a httle woman. Indeed, mentally, she had
become more of a woman than many giiL in her

^ ._.^ „„„ ,yy^g Jjjy .J^ ^^^^^^ ^^.^ ^^^ .^

OF THE SEA AND TIIK UOCKIKa.

103

nil likelihood one of tho good consequences of ad-
versity.

"Ay, May, something has happened," answered
the youth, flinging himself gaily into an arm-chair
and stretching out his legs towards the fire ; " I have
thrown up my situation. Struck work. That's
all."

"Shank I"

" Just so. Don't look so horrified, mother; you *ve
no occasion to, for I have the offer of a better situa-
tion. Besides— ha! ha! old Crossley— close fisted,
crabbed, money-making, skin-flint old Crossley— is
going to pray for me. Think o' that, mother— going
to pray ioi meV* •

"Shank, dear boy," returned his mother, "don't
jest about religious things."

" You don't call old Crossley a religious thing, do
you ? Why, mother, I thought you had more re-
spect for him than that comes to; you ought at
least to consider his years I "

" Come, Shank," returned Urn. Leather, with a
deprecating smile, " be a good boy and tell me what
you mean— and about this new situation."

" I just mean that my friend and chum and old
schoolfellow Ealph Eitson— jovial, dashing, musical,
handsome Ralph — you remember him — has got me a
situation in California."

"Ralph Ritson?" repeated Mrs. Leather, with a
little sigh and an uneasy glance at her daughter,

104

CIUHLIIS TO Tllli IIKSODE i A TALI

Whose face had nushoC at the mention of the ,outh'.
I,.7r'"~^"'"'"' ^'""'''' '■» « emver tone, for he

has asked h>s son to go out and assist him at a good
"alary, and to take a clerk ont with him-a sfout

carpentmg, etc., and ready to turn his hand to any
th.ng.^andBa,ph has chosen me, What d'ee tS

From her silence and expression it was evident

^:s^ziT '''''''-''''' -''^^'--^^
.i;:rr:;riSttizrv:;^^^^^^

J""' ■"^""^"' -I cannot feel as enthii«
astic about your fripnH Poi i, ■ ''"'•''™'-

doubt th»f r 'P** *' y"" -J"- J don't

recM ss T, : ",%"«»---"g youth, but he is

former fri. "^ ""'^ ^''^" " ">"" «ke your

" WeU, mother, it 'a of no use wishing somebody to
be hke somebody else. We must just take 7lZ2

sensible fellow, who has a cronfir „™™„;..:._ '^^ . . '

OF TUE aJSA AND THE ROCKIES. 105

friends. And he's not a bad fellow. Ho and
Charho Brooke were fond of each other when wo
were all schoolboys together-at least ho was fond
of Charho, like everybody else. But whether we
hke him or not does not matter now, for the thing
IS fixed. I have accepted his offer, and thrown old
Jacob overboard."

"Dear Shank, don't be angry if I am slow to
appreciate this offer," said the poor lady, layin..
aside her knitting and clasping her hands before
her on the table, as she looked earnestly into her
sons face, "but you must see that it has come on
me very suddenly, and I'm so soriy to hear that
you have parted with good old Mr. Crossley in
anger ." ''

"We didn't part in anger," interrupted Shank.

We were only a little less sweet on each other

than usual. There was no absolute quarrel. D' you

thmk he'd have promised to pray for me if there

"Have you spoken yet to your father?" asked
the lady,

"How could I? I've not seen him since the
thing was settled. Besides, whafs the use? He
can do nothing for me. an' don't care a button what
1 do or where I go."

"You are wrong. Shank, in thinking so. I know
iLii lie cares for vou vfirv mnni. i«.i««^ rr i. .
do nothing for you now, he has at least given you

10«

CIlAnME TO THE RESCUE: a TaU

your education, without whjch you could not do
much for yourself."

" Woll, of course I shall toll him whenever T seo
him," returned the youth, aomowlmt softened ; "and
I'm aware ho has a sort of sneaking fondness for
mo; but I'm not going to ask his advice, because
he knows nothing about tho business. Besides,
mother, I am old enough to judge for myself, and
mean to take the advice of nobody."

"You are indeed old enough to judge for yourself,"
said Mrs. Leather, resuming her knitting, "and I
don't' wish to turn you from your plans. On the
contrary, I will pray that God's blessing and pro-
tection may accompany you wherever you go, but
you should not expect mo to be instantaneously
jubilant over an arrangement which will take you
away from me for years perhaps."

This last consideration seemed to have some
weight with tho selfish youth.

"Well, well, mother,".he said, rising, "don't take
on about that. Travelling is not like what it used
to be. A trip over the Atlantic and Ue i^-oky
Mountains is nothing to speak of r iw— a mero
matter of a few weeks— so that a fellow can take a
run home at any time to say 'How do' to his
people. I 'm going down now to see Smithers and
tell K'wu tho news."

" fctv-^y, 1 '11 go with you— a bit of the way," cried
•"*"/» jumping up and shaking back the cuiiy brown

Of TSI IIA ANb HIE llOCKltm

107

some

hair which still hung in native freedom— and girlish
fashion—on her shoulders.

May had a channing and rare capacity for getting
wady to go out at a nionionfs notice. She merely
threw on a coquettish straw hat, which had a
knack of being always at hand, and which clung
to her pretty head with a tenacity that rendered
strings or elastic superfluous. One of her brother's
companions-we don't know which-was onco
heard to say with fervour that no hat would bo
worth its ribbons that didn't cling powerfully to
such a head without assistance! A shawl too, or
cloak, was always at hand, somehow, and had this not
been so May would have tlirown over her shoulders
an antimacassar or table-cloth rather than cause
delay,— at least we think so, though we have no
absolute authority for making the statement.

Dear Shank," she said, clasping both hands over
his arm as they walked slowly down the path that
led to the shore, " is it really all true that you have
been tolling us ? Have you fixed to go off with—
with Mr. Ritson to California?"

"Quite true; I never was more in earnest in my
life. By the way, sister mine, what made you
colour up so when Ralph's name was mentioned ?
There, you 're flushing again 1 Are you in love with
him?"

" No, certainly not," answered the girl, with an air
and tone of decision that made her brother laugh.

iil

i I

108

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

"Well, you needn't flare up so fiercely. You
might be in love with a worse man. But why,
then, do you blush?"
May was silent, ai-d huug down her head.
" Come, May, you 've never had any socrets from
me. Surely you're not going to tjgin now— on
the eve ot my departure to a foreign land ?"

"I would rather not talk about him at all," said
the girl, looking up entreatingly.

But Shank looked down upon her sternly! He
had assumed the parental rdle. '^May, there is
something in this that you ought not to conceal.
I have a right to know it, as your brother—your
protector."

Innocent though May was, she could not repress
a faint smile at the idea of a protector who had
been little else than a cause of anxiety in the past,
and was now about to leave her to look after her-
self, probably for years to come. But she answered
frankly, while another and a deeper blush over-
spread her face —

" I did not mean to speak of it, Shank, as you
knew nothing, and I had hoped would never know
anything about it, but since you insist, I must tell
you that— that Mr. Eitson, I 'm afraid, loves me—
at least he "

"Afraid! loves you! How do you know?" in-
terrupted Shank quicklv.
"Well, he said so— the last time we met."

ly. You
Jut why,

•ets from
low — on

ill," said

ly. He
there is
conceal,
r — ^your

repress
ho had
16 past,
;er her-
iswered
I over-

as you
f know
tist tell
; me —

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 109

" The rascal I Had he the audacity to ask you to
marry him T-him-a beggar, without a sixpence
except what his father gives him ? "

"No, Shank, I would not let him get the length
of that. I told him I was too young to— to think
about such matters at all, and said that he must not
speak to me again in such a way. But I was so
surprised, flurried, and distressed, that I don't clearly
remember wliat I said."

"And what did he say ?" asked Shank, forgetting
the parental rdle for a moment, and looking at May
with a humorous smile.

" Indeed I can hardly tell. He made a great
many absurd protestations, begged me to give him
no decided answer just then, and said something
about letting him write to me, but all I am quite
sure of is that at last I had the courage to utter a
very decided W, and then ran away and left him."
" That was too sharp, May. Ealph is a first-rate
fellow, with capital prospects. His father is rich
and can give him a good start in life. He may
come back in a few years with a fortune-not a bad
kmd of husband for a penniless lass."

" Shank !" exclaimed May, letting go her brother's
arm and facing him with flashing eyes and height-
ened colour, "do you really think that a fortune
would make me marry a man whom I did not
love ? "

"Certainly not, my dear sis," said the youth.

1 10 CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

taking May's hand and drawing it again through
his arm with an approving smile. "I never for'' a
moment thought you capable of such meanness, but
that is a very different thing from slamming the
door in a poor fellow's face. You 're not in love
with anybody else. Ealph is a fine handsome young
fellow. You might grow to like him in time— and
if you did, a fortune, of course, would be no dis- •
advantage. Besides, he is to be my travelling
companion, and might write to you about me if I
were ill, or chanced to meet with an accident and
were ^unable to write myself— don't you know ?"

" He could in that case write to mother," said
May, simply.

"So he could!" returned Shank, laughing. "I
never thought o' that, my sharp sister."

They had reached the shore by that time. The
tide was out; the sea was calm and the sun glinted
brightly on the wavelets that sighed rather than
broke upon the sands.

For some distance they sauntered in silence by
the margin of the sea. The mind of each was busy
with the same thought. Each was aware of that,
and for some time neither seemed able to break thj
silence. The timid girl recovered her courage before
the self-reliant man !

"Dear Shank," she said, pressing his arm, "you
will probably be away for years."
" Yes, May— at least for a good long time."

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

Ill

through
3ver for a
uess, but
ning the

in love
ae young
tne — and
5 no dis-
[•avelling
me if I
ent and

3r," said

ng. «I

e. The
glinted
iT than

nee by
IS busy
)f that,
}ak the
i before

you

Oh forgi

me, brother," continued the girl
with sudden earnestness, «but~but~you know
your— your weakness "

"Ay, May, I know it. Call it sin if you will-
and my knowledge of it has something to do with
my present determination, for, weak though I am
and bad though you think me "

" But I don't think you lad, dear Shank," cried
May, with tearful eyes ; « I never said so, and never
thought so, and "

"Come, come. May," interrupted the youth, with
something of banter in his manner, "you don't
think me good, do you ? "

"Well, no-not exactly," returned May, faintly
smihng through her tears.

"Well, then, if I'm not good I must be bad
you know. There's no half-way house in this'
matter."

"Is there not, Shank? Is there not very good
and very bad ? "

" Oh, well, if you come to that, there 's pretty-
good, and rather-bad, and a host of other houses
between these, such as goodish and baddish, but
not one of them can be a half-way house."

" Oh yes, one of them can — musi be."

"Which one, you little argumentative creature ?"
asked Shank.

Wily, middung-good of course."

"Wrong! "cried her brother, « doesn't middling.

' V

112 CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

bad Stand beside it, with quite as good a claim to be
considered half-way ? However, I won't press my
victory too far. For the sake of peace we will agree
that these are semi-detached houses in one block—
and that will block the subject. But, to be serious
again," he added, stopping and looking earnestly
into his sister's face, "I wanted to speak to you
on this weakness-this sin-and I thank you for
breaking the ice. The truth is that I liave felt

for a good while past that conviviality "

"Strong-drink, brother, call it by its right name "
said May, gently pressing the arm on which she
leaned.

"Well— have it so. Strong drink has been get-
ting the better of me-mind I don't admit it Ms got
the better of me yet-only is getting^^^^ convivial
comrades have had a great deal to do with it. Now
as you know, I 'm a man of some decision of char-
actor, and I had long ago made up my mind to break
with my companions. Of course I could not very
well do this while-while I was-well, no matter
why, but this offer just seemed to be a sort of god-
send, for it will enable me to cut myself free at
once, and the sea breezes and Eocky Mountain air
and gold-hunting will, I expect, take away the
desire for strong drink altogether."

"I hope it will— indeed I am sure it will if it is
God's way of leading you," said May, with an air of
confidence.

But I

aim to be
press my
i^ill agree
! block —
e serious
3arnestly
to you
you for
ave felt

i name,"
lich she

een get-
lias got
mvivial
. Now,
•f char-
break
)t very
matter
of god-
free at
ain air
ly the

if it is
air of

OF THE SEA AND THE KOCKIES. ' JIS

"Well, I don't know whether it is God who is
loading me or "

" Did you not call it a god-send just now I "
" Oh. but tliat '3 a mere form of speech, you know
However, I do know that it was 0/ this very belch

where we now stand that a friend led me for the
first time to think seriously of this matter-more
than a year ago."

•■Indeed-who was it ?" asked May eagerly.
My chum and old school-fellow, poor Charlie
B..oke," returned Shank, in a strangely altered

Then he went on to tell of the conversation he
and hs friend had had on that beach, and it was
not td he had finished that he became awar tl
his sister was weeping.

"Why May you 're'crying. What 's the matter?"
God bless him ! " said May in fervent yet tremu-
lous tones as she looked up i„ her brother's fad
Can you wonder at my feeling so strongly when
yon remember how kind Charlie always was to you
-to all of us indeed-ever since he was a little boy
a school with you ; what a true-hearted and steadj

poor Charhe just now, as if he were dead "
"True indeed, it is very, very sad, for we have
^-t reason to fear the worst, and I have strong
"hat X shall never see my old chum again.
wont give up hope, for it is no uncommon

great
dou

But

' ««s r

1 I I'l I

CIIAKLIE TO TUr RESCUE; A TALE

thing for men to be lost at sea, for years even, and
to turn up at last, having been cast away on a desert
island, like Robinson Crusoe, or something of that
sort."

The thoughts which seemed to minister consola-
tion to Shank Leather did not appear to afford much
comfort to his sister, who hung her head and made
no answer, while her companion went on

" Yes, May, and poor Charlie was the first to make
me feel as if I were a little selfish, though that, as
you know, is not one of my conspicuous failings !
His straightforwardness angered me a little at first,
but his kindness made me think much of what he
said, and— well, the upshot of it all is that I am
going to California."

" I am glad— so glad and thankful he has had so
much influence over you, dear Shank, and now, don't
you think— that— that if Charlie were with you at
this moment he would advise you not to go to Mr.
Smithers to consult about your plans ? "

For a few moments the brother's face betrayed
a feeling of annoyance, but it quickly cleared
away.

"You are right, May. Smithers is too much of
a convivial harum-scarum fellow to be of much use
in the way of giving sound advice. I '11 go to see
Jamieson instead. You can have no objection to
him— surely. He 's a quiet, sober sort of man, and
never tries to temfJt people or lead them into mis-

even, and
n a desert
g of that

' consola-
ord much
md made

i to make
I that, as

failings 1
e at first,

what he
hat I am

IS had so
ow, don't
1 you at
[0 to Mr.

betrayed
cleared

tnuch of
luch use
3 to see
ction to
laHj and
ito mis-

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIKS. 115

chief-which is more than can be said of the other
fellow.

"That is a very negative sort of goodness"
returned May, smiling. « However, if you must go
to see some one, Jamieson is better than Smithers ;
but why not come home and consult with mother
and me ? "

" Pooh ! what can women know about such mat-
ters ? No, no. May, when a fellow has to go into
the pros and cons of Californian life it must be with
men."

" H'm ! the men you associate with, having been at
school and the desk all their lives up till now, must
be emmently fitted to advise on Californian life I
That did not occur to me at the first blush!" said
May demurely.

"Go home, you cynical baggage, and help mother
to knit," retorted Shank, with a laugh. « I intend
to go and see Jamieson."

And he went. And the negatively good Jamieson
who never led people into temptation, had no objec-
tion to be led into that region himself, so they went
together to make a passing call— a mere look in~on
Smithers, who easily induced them to remain. The
result was that the unselfish man with decision of
character returned home in the early hours of morn-
ing — " screwed ' I

m^-m

» «P

116

CIIARUE TO THE liESCUE : A TALE

CFIAPTEK X.

IIOME-COMINO AND UNEXPECTED SURI'fllSES.

Upwards of another year passed away, and at
the end of that time a ship might have been seen
approaching one of the harbours on the eastern sea-
board of America. Her sails were worn and patched.
Her spars were broken and spliced. Her rigging
was ragged and slack, and the state of her hull can
be best described by the word 'battered.' Everything
m and about her bore evidence of a prolonged and
hard struggle with the elements, and though she had
at last come off victorious, her dilapidated appear-
ance bore strong testimony to the deadly nature of
the fight.

Her crew presented similar evidence. Not only
were their garments ragged, threadbare, and patched,
but the very persons of the men seemed to have
been riven and battered by the tear and wear of the
conflict. And no wonder ; for the vessel was a South
Sea whaler, returning home after a three years'
cruise.

At first she had been blown far out of her course •

OF THE 8EA AND THE ROCKIES,

117

', and at
een seen
tern sea-
patched,
rigging
hull can
erything
ged and
she had
appear-
ature of

bt only
)atched,
io have
p of the
I South
years'

course ;

then she was very successful in the fishing, and
then she was stranded on the reef of a coral island
in such a position that, though protected from
absolute destruction by the fury of the waves, she
could not be got off for many months. At last the
ingenuity and perseverance of one of her crew were
rewarded by success. She was hauled once more
into deep water and finally returned home.

The man who had been thus successful in saving
the ship, and probably the lives of his mates— for it
was a desolate isle, far out of the tracks of commerce
—was standing in the bow of the vessel, watching
the shore with his companions as they drew near.
He was a splendid specimen of manhood, clad in a
red shirt and canvas trousers, while a wide-awake
took the place of the usual seafaring cap. He stood
head and shoulders above his fellows.

Just as the ship rounded the end of the pier,
which formed one side of the harbour, a small boat
shot out from it. A little boy sculled the boat, and,
apparently, had been ignorant of the ship's approach,
for he gave a shout of alarm on seeing it and made
frantic efforts to get out of its way. In his wild
attempts to turn the boat he missed a stroke and
went backwards into the sea.

At the same moment the lookout on the ship gave
the order to put the helm hard a-starboard in a
hurried shout

Prompt obedience caused the ship to sheer otf a

if #

il "'J

nS CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TAUB

littlo, and her side just grazed' the boat. Alt handa
on the forecastle gazed down anxiously for the boy's
reappearance.

Up he came next moment with a bubbling cry
and clutching fingers.

" He can't swim I " cried one.

"Out with a lifebelt I" shouted another.

Our tall seaman bent forward as they spoke, and,
just as the boy sank a second time, he shot like an
arrow into the water.

"He 's all safe now," remarked a seaman quietly
and with a nod of satisfaction, even before the
rescuer had reappeared.

And he was right. The red-shirted sailor rose
a moment later with the boy in his arms. Chuck-
ing the urchin into the boat he swam to the pier-
head with the smooth facility and speed of an otter
climbed the wooden piles with the ease of an
athlete; walked rapidly along the pier, and arrived
at the head of the harbour almost as soon as his
own ship.

"That's the tenth life he's saved since he came
aboard—to say nothin' o' savin' the ship herself"
remarked the Captain to an inquirer, after the
vessel had reached her moorings. " An' none o' the
lives was as easy to manage as that one. Some o'
them much harder."

^ We will follow this magniiicent seaman for a
time, good reader.

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

119

lit handa
the boy's

aling cry

)ko, and,
' like an

quietly,
fore the

lor rose
Chuck-
le pier-
n otter

of an
arrived

as his

e came
erself,"
er the
3 o' the
ome o'

for a

Having obtained permission to quit the South
Sea whaler he walked straight to the office of a steam
shipping company, and secured a fore-cabin passage
to England. He went on board dressed as he had
arrived, in the red shirt, ducks, and wide-awake-
minus the salt water. The only piece of costume
which he had added to his wardrobe was a huge
double-breasted pilot-cloth coat, with buttons the
size of an egg-cup. Ho was so unused, however, to
such heavy clotliing that he flung it off the moment
he got on board the steamer, and went about there-
after in his red flannel shirt and ducks. Hence he
came to be known by every one as Bed Shirt.

This man, with his dark-blue eyes, deeply bronzed
cheeks, fair hair, moustache, and beard, and tall
herculean form, was nevertheless so soft and gentle
in his manners, so ready with his smile and help
and sympathy, that every man, woman, and child in
the vessel adored him before the third day was over.
Previous to that day many of the passengers, owing
to internal derangements, were incapable of any
affection, except self-love, and to do them justice
they had not much even of that I

Arrived at Liverpool, Red Shirt, after seeing a
poor invalid passenger safely to his abode in that
city, and assisting one or two families with young
children to find the stations, boats, or coaches that
were more or less connected with their liomes, got
mto a third-class carriage for London. On reach-

120

CHARLIE TO THE Rigoui : a TALI

1^ i'

Just as the train waa on tho ,,omt of starting two
eWorl, gentlemen came on tho platf..r„,, i„'t,,at
eager Imsto .nd confusion of n.ind clmrncteristio of
lato passongers.

" lTl.is way, Captain." cried one. I.ailing tho other,
and pou. .„,. energetically with his brown silk
umbrella to the Soalford earring,-,.

tlJ^r:,""' /''f. "'/''« "«*' PloWorm." returned
tiio Captain frantically.

*^ome, sir, obey orders I"

They both mmlo for an open carriago-door. It
hanccd to be a third class. A strong hand was
held out to assist them in.

ho wrth the brown silk un.brella-turning to Bed
blurt as he sat down and panted slightly

"I feared that we'd bo late, sir," remarked tho
other elderly gentleman on recovering breath

We are not late, Captain, but we should have
been la o for certain, if your obstinacy had held
another half uiiuute."

"Well, Mr. Crossley, I admit that I made a mis-
take about the place, but you must allow that I
made "0 mistake about the hour. I was sure tha
«y chronometer was right. If there 's one thing on
eaith that I can trust to as reg'lar as the sun !t

It IS

OF TUE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

Ill

ticket for

rting two
I in that
eristic of

lio other,
wn siUc

'oturned

sternly.

)or. It
ad was

man —
to lied

ed the

1 have
I held

mis-
hat I
I that

Qg ou
it ifl

thii chronometer (pulling it out as ho ipoke), and
it never fails. As I always Haid to my missis,
• Maggie,' I used to say, ' when you find this chrono-
meter fail ' ' Oh ! bother you an' your chrono-

meter/ she would reply, takin' the wind out o' my
sails— for my missus has a free-an'-easy way o'doin'
that -"

"You've just come off a voyage, young sir, if I
mistake not," said Crossley, turning to Ked Shirt,
for he had quite as free-and-easy a way of taking
the wind out of Captain Stride's sails as the
"missus."

"Yes ; I have just returned," answered Red Shirt,
in a low soft voice, which scarcely seemed appro-
priate to his colossal frame. His red garment, by
the way, was at the time all concealed by the pilot-
coat, excepting the collar.

"Going home for a spell, I suppose?" said
Crossley.

" Yes."

"May I ask where you last hailed from?" said
Captain Stride, with some curiosity, for there was
something in the appearance of this nautical stranger
which interested him.

"From the southern seas. I have been away a
long while in a South Sea whaler."

" Ah, indeed ?—a rough service that."

" Eather rough ; but I didn't enter it intentionally.

\trQo

TT «rj

^/iv-acu up ui sea, Willi sume oi my mates, in

liiiM

i!!

^^2 CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

an open boat, by the whaler. She was on the out-
ward voyage, and couldn't land us anywhere, so we
were obliged to make up our minds to join as
hands."

"Strange!" murmured Captain Stride "Then
you were wrecked somewhere-or your ship foun-
dered, mayhap— eh ?"
" Yes, we were wrecked— on a coral reef."
"WeU now, young man, that is a strange coin-
cidenca I was wrecked myself on a coral reef in
the very same seas, nigh three years ago. Isn't
that odd ?"

"Dear me, this is very interesting," put in Mr
Crossley; "and, as Captain Stride says, a somewhat

strange coincidence."
J Is it so very strange, after all," returned Eed

Shirt, "seeing that the Pacific is full of sunken

coral reefs, and vessels are wrecked there more or

less every year ?"

"Well, there's some truth in that," observed the
Captain. "Did you say it was a sunk reef your
ship struck on ?"

"Yes; quite sunk. No part visible. It was
calm vreather at the time, and a clear night."

"Another coincidence !" exclaimed Stride, becom-
ing still more interested. "Calm and clear, too,
when I was wrecked !"

^ "Curious," remarked Eed Shirt in a cool indif-
ferent tone, that began to exasperate the Captain.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROOKIES.

123

"Yet, after all, there are a good many calm and
clear nights in the Pacific, as well as coral
reefs."

" Why, young man," cried Stride in a tone that
made old Crossley smile, "you seem to think
nothing at all of coincidences. It's very seldom—
almost never— that one hears of so many coinci-
dences happening on this side o' the line all at once
— don't you see ?"

"I see," returned Eed Shirt; "and the same,
exactly, may be said of the other side o' the line. I
very seldom— almost never— heard of so many out
there ; which itself may be called a coincidence, d'ee
«ee ? a sort of negative similarity."

" Young man, I would suspect you were jesting
with me," returned the Captain, "but for the fact
that you told me of your experiences first, before
you could know that mine would coincide with them
so exactly."

"Your conclusions are very just, sir," rejoined
Eed Shirt, with a grave and respectful air ; " but of
course coincidences never go on in an unbroken
chain. They must cease sooner or later. We left
our wreck in three boats. No doubt you "

"There again!" cried the Captain in blazing
astonishment, as he removed his hat and wiped his
heated brow, while Mr. Crossley's eyes opened to
their widest extent. " We left our wreck in three
boats ! My ship's name was "

li >E,

124

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

I I

"The JValrusr said Red Shirt quietly, "and her
taptam s name was Stride !"

Old Crossley had reached the stage that is known
as petrified with astonishment. The Captain being
unable to open his eyes wider dropped his lower
jaw instead.

"Surely," continued Red Shirt, removing his wide-
awake, and looking steadily at his companions «I
must have changed very much indeed when two of
my "

"Brooke!" exclaimed Crossley, grasping one of
the sailor's hands.

"Charlie!" gasped the Captain, seizing the other
hand. °

What they all said after reaching this point it is
neither easy nor necessary to record. Perhaps it
may be as well to leave it to the reader's vivid
imagination. Suffice it to say, that our hero irri-
tatt^d the Captain no longer by his callous indif-
ference to coincidences. In the midst of the
confusion of hurried question and short reply he
pulled them up with the sudden query anxiously

"But now, what of my mother?"

"Well-excellently well in health, my boy," said
Crossley, "but wofuUy low in spirits about your-
self-Charlie. Yet nothing will induce her to
entertain the idea that you have been drownea.
w. course we have been rather glad of this-though

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 125

most Of our friends, Charlie, have given you up for
lost long ago. May Leather, too, has been much
the same way of thinking, so she has naturally been
a great comfort to your mother."

"God bless her for that. She's a good little
girl," said Charlie.

"Little girl," repeated both elderly gentlemen in
a breath, and bursting into a laugh. " You forget,
lad," said the Captain, « that three years or so makes
a considerable change in girls of her age. She's a
tall, handsome young woman now; ay, and a good-
looking one too. Almost as good-lookin' as what
my missus was about her age—an' not unlike my
little Mag in the face— the one you rescued, you re-
member—who is also a strappin' lass now."
" I 'm very glad to hear they are well. Captain,"

said Charlie ; " and. Shank, what of "

He stopped, for the grave looks of his friends told
him that something was wronc.
" Gone to the dogs," said the Captain,
" Nay, not quite gone— but going fast."
"And the father?"

"Much as he was, Charlie, only somewhat more
deeply sunk. The fact is," continued Crossley, « it
is this very matter that takes us down to Sealford
to-day. We have just had fresh news of Shank—
who is in America— and I want to consult with

Mpow Lfiaf.hor oVvniif U

- — — —■»•« VKWVIU iX

You see I have agents

out there wno may be able to help us to save him."

126

CHARLIE TO THii; RESCUE : A TALE

'f^r.i In

"From drink, I suppose?" interposed our hero.
" From himself, Charlie, and that includes drink
and a great deal more. I dare say you are aware—
at least if you are not I now tell you— that I have
long taken great interest in Mrs. Leather and her
family, and would go a long way, and give a great
deal, to save Shank. You know— no, of course you
don't, I forgot— that he threw up his situation in
my office— Withers & Co. (ay, you may smile, my
lad, but we humbugged you and got the better of
you that time. Didn't we. Captain ?) Well, Shank
was induced by that fellow Ealph Eitson to go away
to some gold-mine or other worked by his father in
California, but when they reached America they
got news of the failure of the Company and the
death of old Eitson. Of course the poor fellows
were at once thrown on their own resources, but
instead of facing life like men they took to gam-
bling. The usual results followed. They lost all
they had and went off to Texas or some such wild
place, and for a long time were no more heard of.
At last, just the other day, a letter came from
Eitson to Mrs. Leather, telling her that her son is
very ill— perhaps dying— in some out o' the way
place. Eitson was nursing him, but, being ill
himself, unable to work, and without means, it
would help them greatly if some money could be
sent — even though only a small sum."
Charlie Brooke listened to this narrative wien

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

127

compressed brows, and remained silent a few
seconds. "My poor chuml" he exclaimed at
length. Then a flash of fire seemed to gleam in his
blue eyes as he added, " If I had that fellow Eitson
by the "

He stopped abruptly, and the fire in the eyes
died out, for it was no part of our hero's charac-
ter to boast— much less to speak harshly of men
behind their backs.
" Has money been sent ? " he asked.
"Not yet. It is about that business that I'm
going to call on poor Mrs. Leather now. We must
be careful, you see. I have no reason, it is true, to
believe that Eitson is deceiving us, but when a
youth of no principle writes to make a sudden
demand for money, it behoves people to think
twice before they send it."

" Ay, to think three times — perhaps even four or
five," broke in the Captain, with stern emphasis.
"I know Ealph Eitson well, the scoundrel, an' if I
had aught to do wi' it I 'd not send him a penny.
As I said to my "

"Does your mother know of your arrival?" asked
Mr. Crossley abruptly.
" No ; I meant to take her by surprise."
"Humph! Just like you young fellows. In some
things you have no more brains than geese. Being
made of cast-iron and shoe-leather you assume that
everybody else is, or ought to be, made of the same

w
m

'!
il

MkfnM

128

CHARLIE TO THE IlESCUE : A TALE

raw material. Don't you know that surprises of
this sort are apt to kill delicate people ? "

Charlie smiled by way of reply.

"No, sir," continued the old gentleman firmly
"I won't let you take h. • "v surprise. While I
go round to the Leathers good friend Captain
Stride will go in advance of you to Mrs. Brooke's
and break the news to her. He is accustomed to
deal with ladies."

"Bight you are, sir," said the gratified Captain
removing his hat and wiping his brow. « As I said!
no lat^r than yesterday to "

A terrific shriek from the steam-whistle, and a
plunge into the darkness of a tunnel stopped— and
thus lost to the world for ever—what the Captain
said upon that occasion.

It i

OF Tire SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

129

CHAPTER XI.

T.LU OF H«Pt MMTraas «D SEMOm COKaoiTATiOK..

Whetheu Captain Stride executed his commis-

IZt ^'ir'j" '"'""°' '^"' ''"'' ^J-^'her the
meetmg of Mrs. Brooke with her long-lost son came
to near kiUmg or not we will not tell. Enough to
know that they met, and that the Captain-with
that dehcacy of feeling so noticeable in seafaring
men-went outs.de the cottage door and smoked
his pipe while the meeting was in progress. After
having given sufficient time, as he said, "for the
first o the squall to Mow over," he summarily
snuhhed^his pipe, put it into his vest pocket, an^

"Now, missus, you 'II excuse me, ma'am, for cuttin'
m atween jou, but this business o' the leathers is
pressrn. an' if we are to hold a confabulation wi'
the family about it, why "

"Ah, to be sure, Captain Stride is right" said
Mrs. Brooke, turning to her stalwart son, ;ho
was seated on the sofa bfisiHA h- «T^--- •
very, very sad business about poor Shank. You

130

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

had better go to them, Charlie. I will follow you in
a short time.

" Mr. Crossley is with them at this moment I
forgot to say so, mother."

"Is he? I'm very glad of that," returned the
widow. "He has been a true friend to us all.
Go, Charlie. But stay. I see May coming. The
dear child always comes to me when there is any-
thing good or sorrowful to tell. But she comes
from the wrong direction. Perhaps she does not
yet know of Mr. Crossle/s arrival."

"May! Can it be?" exclaimed Charlie in an
undertone of surprise as he observed, through the
window, the girl who approached.

And well might he be surprised, for this, al-
though the same May, was very different from the
girl he left behind him. The angles of girlhood
had given place to the rounded lines of young
womanhood. The rich curly brown hair, which
ased to whirl wildly in the sea-breezes, was gathered
up in a luxuriant mass behind her graceful head,
and from the forehead it was drawn back in two
wavy bands, in defiance of fashion, which at that
time was beginning to introduce the detestable
modern fringe. Perhaps we are not quite un-
biassed in our judgment of the said fringe, for it is
intimately associated in our mind with the savages
of North America, whose dirty red faces, in years
past, were wont to glower at us from beneath just

or THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 181

such a fringe, long before it was adopted by the fair
dames of England I

In other respects, however, May was little
changed, except that the slightest curl of sadness
about her eyebrows made her face more attractive
than ever, as she nodded pleasantly to the Captain,
who had hastened to the door to meet her. -

"So glad to see you, Captain Stride,"' she said
shaking hands with unfeminine heartiness. " Have
you been to see mother ? I have just been having
a walk before " *"

She stopped as if transfixed, for at that moment
she caught sight of Charlie and his mother through
the open door.

Poor May flushed to the roots of her hair; then
she turned deadly pale, and would have fallen had
not the gallant Captain caught her in his arms.
But by a powerful effort of will she recovered her-
self in time to avoid a scene.

"The sight of you reminded me so strongly of
our dear Shank!" she stammered, when CharUe
hastening forward, grasped both her hands and
shook them warmly. •■ Besides-some of us thought
you were dead,"

"No wonder you thought of Shank," returned
Chailie, "for he and I used to be so constantly to-
gether. But don't be cast down, May. We'll get
Shank out of hia ttvmMnn ..„«. •• °

" Yes, and you know he has Ealph Kitson with

iw iirtii i i i

ISS

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

him/' said Mrs. Brooke; "and he, although not
quite as steady as we could wish, will be sure to
care for such an old friend in his sickness. But
you'd better go, Charlie, and see Mrs, Leather.
They will bo sure to want you and Captain Stride.
May will remain here with me. Sit down beside
me, dear, I want to have a chat with you."

"Perhaps, ma'am, if I make so bold," interposed
the Captain, "Mr. Crossley may want to have Miss
May also at the council of war."

"Mr. Crossley 1 is he with my mother?" asked
the girl eagerly.

" Yes, Miss May, he is."

" Then I must be there. Excuse me, dear Mrs.
Brooke."

And without more ado May ran out of the house.
She was followed soon after by Cnarlie and the
Captain, and Mrs. Brooke was left alone, expressing
her thankfulness and joy of heart in a few silent
tears over her knitting.

There was a wonderful similarity in many respects
between Mrs. Brooke and her friend Mrs. Leather.
They both knitted— continuously and persistently.
This was a convenient if not a powerful bond, for it
enabled them to sit for hours together—busy, yet
free to talk. They were both invalids—a sympa-
thetic bond of considerable strength. They held
the same religious views— an indispensable bond
where two people have to be much together, and

OF THE SRA AND THK ROCKIES. 18S

arc in earnest. They were both poor~a natural
bond which draws people of a certain kind very
close together, physically as well as spiritually-and
both, up to this time at least, had long-absent and
somi-lost sons. Even in the matter of dauglitors
they might bo said, in a sense, to bo almost equal,
for May, loving each, was a daughter to both'
Lastly, in this matter of similarity, the two ladies
were good-good as gold, according to Captain
Stride, and ho ought to have been an authority, for
be frequently visited them and knew all their
affairs. Fortunately for both ladies, Mrs. Brooke
was by far the stronger-minded— hence they never
quarrelled I

In Mrs. Leather's parlour a solemn conclave was
seated round the parlour table. They were very
earnest, for the case under consideration was urgent
as well as very pitiful. Poor Mrs. Leather's face'
was wet with tears, and the pretty brown eyes of
May were not dry. They had had a long talk
over the letter from Eitson, which was brief and
to the point, but meagre as to details.

" I rather like the letter, considering who wrote
it," observed Mr. Crossley, laying it down after a
fourth perusal. « You see he makes no whining or
discontented reference to the hardness of their
luck, which young scapegraces are so fond of doing .

nor does he TYioL-n ««v,r.;„^ r .•_ » '

-— — -.,..^^^ ^^^^^^^.^ i/iuiuoaiuns or regret or

repentance, which hypocrites are so prone to do. I

I ^ II P ^

134

CIIARLIS TO THE RESCUE : A TALK

ill

think it bears the btamp of being genuine on the
face of it At least it appears to be straightfor-
ward.**

"I'm so glad you think so, Mr. Crossley." said
Mrs. Leather ; " for Mr. Kitson is such a pleasant
young man— and so good-looking, too I"

The old gentleman and the Captain both burst
into a laugh at this.

" I 'm afrnid," said the former, •• that good looks
are no guarantee for good behaviour. However, I
have made up my mind to send him a small sum
of money— not to Shank, Mrs. Leather, so you need
not begin to thank mo. I shall send it to Kitson."

" Well, thank you all the same," interposed the
lady, taking up her knitting and resuming opera-
tions below the table, gazing placidly all the while
at her friends like some consummate conjuror, "for
Ralph will be sure to look after Shank."

*• The only thing that puzzles me is, how are we
to get it sent to such an outo'-the-way place-
Traitor's Trap ! It 's a bad name, and the stupid
fellow makes no mention of any known town near
to it, though he gives the post-office. If I only
knew its exact whereabouts I might get some one
to take the money to him, for I have agents in many
parts of America."

After prolonged discussion of the subject, Mr.
Crossley returned to town to make inquiries, and
tx.e Captain «-cut to take hia favouiite walk by the

Of THE HEA AND THE ROCKIES.

iJ87

fioa-8hore, wliero ho was wont, when paying u visit
to Sealford, to drive) thn leathers' littlo dog half-
mad with delight by throwing stones into tho soa
for Scraggy to go in for—which ho always did,
though ho novor fetched thorn out.

In tho courso of that day Charlio Brooko loft his
niothor to take a stroll, and naturally turned in tho
direction of tho sea. When half-way through tho
luuo with the high banks on either side ho encoun-
tered May.

" What a pleasant pretty girl she has become 1 "
was his thought as she drew near,

" Nobler and handsomer than over I" was hers as
he approached.

Tho thoughts of both sent a flush to tho face of
each, but tho colou scarcely showed through the
bronzed akin of tho man.

"Why, what a woman you havo grown, May!"
said Charlie, grasping her hand, and attempting to
resume tho old familiar terms—with, however,
imperfe(:t success.

" Isn't that natural ?" asked May, with a glance
and a little laugh.

Triat glance and that littlo laugh, insignificant in
themselves, tore a voil from tho eyes of Ch 13
Brooke. He had always been fond of May Leather,
after a fashion. Now it suddenly rushed upon him

that he was fond of hp.r nffnv nnnfTmr foe,l,i«« I TTq

was a quick thinker and just reasoner. A poor

134.

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

man without a profession and no prospects has no
right to try to gain the affections of a girl. He
became grave instantly.

" May." he said, « will you turn back to the shore
with me for a little ? I want to have a talk about
Shank. I want you to tell me all you know about
him. Don't conceal anything. I feel as if I had a
right to claim your confidence, for, as you know
well, he and I have been like brothers since we
were little boys."

May had turned at once, and the tears filled her
eyes as she told the sad story. It was long, and
the poor girl was graphic in detail. We can give
but the outline here.

Shank had gone off with Ritson not long after
the sailing of the Walrus. On reaching America,
and hearing of the failure of the company that
worked the gold mine, and of old Ritson's death,
they knew not which way to turn. It was a tre-
mendous blow, and seemed to have rendered them
reckless, for they soon took to gambling. At first
they remained in New York, and letters came home
pretty regularly, in which Shank always expressed
hopes of getting more respectable work. He did
not conceal their mode of gaining a livelihood, but
defended it on the ground that "a man must live !"
For a time the letters were cheerful. The young
men were " lucky." Then came a chano-e of luck
and a consequent change in the letters, which came

OF THE SEA AND THE noCKIlSS. 137

1033 frequently. At last there arrived one from
Shank, both the style and penmanship of wMch old
tha he had not forsaken the great curse of hts 1 fe

tTr^tkee.^':;h'"''r'-^°^«°'"«o^

fi.n„ K T ^^ ^ P^^^y Of "discoverers"

though what they were to discover was not Z

sion, we have heard nothing about them till this

:•;•»»««•. 1 111.1. ..«.,u«M„. M.rf

The youth did not observe the blush TTi,
oughts were otherwise engaged, and h "Jes wt
at the moment fixed on a far-off mrt of fh! T
Where Captain Stride could be LT J^ f^^^
joyful Scraggy to his fruitless labours.

do Ma7V'"°"" '"' ^^ ^•'■'''•J-' of him as you
do. May. However, misfortune as well as experience

B„T r: ?''^ '■" ' "'^«'' P-I^^P^ - hettrman

ttmtrt^Tjr^^^^'^-

-aching its desti'na'ti::; "' " '°"=" '° "°^ ^^^'

,.'*,!'"' *?,"■

Ji'k^ <y ."-?,'>' :. . r-rt1inr . '#ffa aaay

138

CHARLIE TO THE RESCOE : A. TALE

" Oh ! if wo only knew some one in New York
who would take it to them," said May, looking pite-
ously at the horizon, as if she were apostrophising
some one on the other side of the Atlantic.

"Why, you talk as if New York and Traitor's
Trap were within a few miles of each other," said
Charlie, smiling gently. "They are hundreds of
miles apart."

"Well, I suppose they are. But I feel so
anxious about Shank when I think of the dear boy
lying ill, perhaps dying, in a lonely place far fai
away from us all, and no one but Mr. Ritson to care
for him ! If I were only a man I would go to him
myself."

She broke down at this point, and put her hand-
kerchief to her face.

"Don't cry. May," began the youth in sore per-
plexity, for he knew not how to comfort the poor
girl in the circumstances, but fortunately Captain
Stride caught sight of them at the moment, and
gave them a stentorian hail.

" Hi ! halloo ! back your to-o-o-ps'ls. I '11 overhaul
ye in a jiffy."

How long a nautical jiffy may be we know not,
but, in a remarkably brief space of time, considering
the shortness and thickness of his sea-legs, the Cap-
tain was alongside, blowing, as he said, "like a
grampus. ."

That night Charlie Brooke sat with his mother in

OF THE SEA ANO THE HOOKIES. 139

her parlour. They were alone-their friend, h.
"ig considerately left thnm f 1 , '""'"

their fi«t night '° "'^^'^'^^^ "» 'his

-«andoo.;2;a::rei;L:^r^;:

Surely, my boy, it is time enough to tilt k .
that to-morrow, or next dav v! '''"""

improved that girl mother^ ' ■ ^"»<'«''"«%

" IndPP,! <,>. , ^''°'^" «""« pretty ? '•

hermin/" ''°"'^'"°" ^^'S^^ heavily on

"Can you wonder, Charlie ?"

140

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALB

" That 's natural too, my son. I have no doubt
she would, poor dear girl, if she were only a man."

" Do you know, mother, I Ve not been able to get
that speech out of my head all this afternoon. ' If
I were a man— if I were a man,' keeps ringing
in my ears like the chorus of an old song, and
then "

"Well, Charlie, what then?" asked Mrs. Brooke,
v/ith a puzzled glance.

"Why, then, somehow the chorus has changed
in my brain and it runs—' I am a man! I am a.
ma^!'"

"Well?" asked the mother, with an anxious
look.

" Well— that being so, I have made up my mind
that / will go out to Traitor's Trap and carry the
money to Shank, and look after him myself. That
is, if you will let me."

"0 Charlie! how can you talk of it?" said Mrs.
Brooke, with a distressed look. "I have scarcely
had time to realise the fact that you have come
home, and to thank God for it, when you begin to
talk of leaving me again— perhaps for years, as
before."

"Nay, mother mine, you jump to conclusions too
hastily. What I propose is not to go off again on
a long voyage, but to take a run of a few days in a
first-class steamer across what the Americans call
the big fish-pond ; then go across country comfort-

t£^'

no doubt
1 man."
)le to get
Don. ' If
I ringing
ong, and

Brooke,

changed
I am a

anxious

n.y mind
arry the
I That

lid Mrs.
scarcely
'6 come
)egin to
sars, as

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIM. ,41

ably by rail; after that hire a horse and have a
gaUop somewhere or other; find out ShankTnd

i^r^w ran?rt ""- -«^ "^"

wrecked." "° '''"'"'=^' '^'"°^'- "^ Wng

"I don-t know, Charlie," returned Mra Brooke
>n a sad tone, as she laid her hand on her s nl'
arm and stroked it. «As you put ^ZT

sounds all very ea<,v «^.i 7 , ' ® '^""S

very easy, and no doubt it would ho „

grand, a noble thing to resen« t,u. , ° ^^ "
why talk of it f„ °,.! Shank— but-but,

"11 J- taiK ot It to-night, mv Amr y.^-,, o t^ ■ ,

Go to bed. Charlie, and w7wm taS " ^''"'■

morning" " '*"" " "^er in the

"Goo<l.night, my son, and God bless you."

Lons too
^ain on
lys in a
ms call
omfort-

Ill

ll!

142

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

CHAPTER XII.

CIIANOKS THE SOBNB CONSIDERABLY f

We must transport our reader now to a locality
somewhere in the region lying between New
Mexico and Colorado. Here, in a mean-looking
out-of-the-way tavern, a number of rough-looking
men were congregated, drinking, gambling, and
spmning yarns. Some of them belonged to the
cla^s known as cow-boys-men of rugged exterior,
iron constitutions, powerful frames, and apparently
reckless dispositions, though underneath the surface
there was considerable variety of character to be
found.

The landlord of the inn-if we may so call it, for
it was little better than a big shanty-was known
by the name of David. He was a man of cool
courage. His customers knew this latter fact well
and were also aware that, although he carried no
weapon on his person, he had several revolvers in
handy places under his counter, with the use of
which he was extremely familiar and expert.

In the midst of a group of rather noisy characters

. locality
Bn New
i-looking
L-looking
ing, and
to the
exterior,
parently
i surface
r to be

11 it, for
I known
of cool
ct well,
ried no
vers in
use of

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 143

wlio smoked and drank in one corner nf fK- •
shanty, there wa, seated on tVer; ''^Z:
case, a man in the prime of Ufa . u PacKing-

eathern costume betokened him ^ZL o
trapper, and the sheepskin leggings with fhl ,

norseman. Unhke most of his comrflri«. u
Indian moccasins, with spurs sl^ 'to C
Also a cap of the broad-brimmed order The t,'
about him that was most strikinsTL! l^
i;i3~e breadth of shouldeTL^^t^^^^^^

around him. As one became acquainted with the
man, however, his massive proportions h J /
powerful an effect on the min'd oTaTle' /al:
qu.et simplicity of his expression and mal'
Good-nature seemed to lurk in th. v f^nne'-
eyes and the comers of h7s ll L r,''°"' "^
the peculiarity of turn4 Zn tstf of^^^^^^^^

he smiled ; yet withal there was a 1,

about him that forbade famuLL "" ^'"'^

The name of the man was Hunky Ben and th,

strangest thing about him-th»t L ?

these wild men most-waTftat h^"'t T'^'

""" "u .eahy thought these things wrong.

^ 31

^ I
( I

iffip

i! I

'"ilil'

Pi!

144 CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" Well, now," he replied quietly, with a twinkle in
his eye, " I 'm no parson, boys, that I should sot up
to diskiver what 's rip;ht an' what 's wrong. I Ve
got my own notions on them points, you bet, but
I 'm not goin' to preach 'em. As to smokin', I
won't make a smoked herrin' o' my tongue to please
anybody. Besides, I don't want to smoke, an' why
should I do a thing I don't want to just because
other people does it? Why should I make a new
want when I 've got no end o' wants a'ready that 's
hard enough to purvide for ? Drinkin 's all very
well if a man wants Dutch courage, but I don't
want it-no, nor French courage, nor German, nor
Chinee, havin' got enough o' the article home-
growed to sarve my purpus. When that 's used up
I may take to drinkin'— who knows ? Same wi'
gamblin'. I 've no desire to bust up any man, an'
I don't want to be busted up myself, you bet. No
doubt drinkin', smokin', an' gamblin' makes men
jolly -them at leaart that's tough an' that wins!—
but I 'm jolly without 'em, boys,-jolly as a cotton-
tail rabbit just come of age."

" An' ye look it, old man," returned the youn«
fellow, puffing cloudlets with the utmost vigour^^
"but come, Ben, won't ye spin us a yarn about your
frontier life?"

"Yes, do, Hunky," cried another in an entreating
voice, for it was well known all over that region that
the bold hunter was a good story-teller, and as he

winkle in
lid sot up
ig. I Ve
I bet, but
mokin', I
to please
, an' why
' because
:e a new
iy that 's
all very

I don't
man, nor
3 home-
used up
ame wi'
man, an'
>et. No
:es men
wins ! —

cotton-

■ young
vigour ;
ut your

seating
on that
1 as he

0" "'B SEA ANO TUK KOCKIES.

•""l much to to 1 ofTA' r "'"'''"'°'''' "'at ho
Wnd; but although he 1" 1' ""' "''^'"""roua
'""cand looked afhlXol !"" ""«" '"
''- I'ead, and would noLo It To". 7' '"' ""'""'

"^°- boys, it can't tl ? ' '''"''"'" »"'•

"I've no tin.; for I -^ . T "'■''''^■" ^e said;

•-t-aste.an-'alron.rSt'^r'^''''"^"
fr«^'>en up a bit. The H l "' '"' ""^ P^-^ to

- t™.blo the. b, a'uc!::*'^ "^ «°^»' '" «-e

trouble." ' "^^^'® always givin' ug

'•e £^ ;tc fhrap^eaS'irf- "'"■ "^

ment I heer'd expres^ort „, ! ' ""*' '» * senti-

-^3. though i7^x::zr''' '" "'^ --

a Kedslcin ehief-onl/h ^ ,r"' ""' "^^ "^
devils who troubled aLt. ""^ Pale-faoed

^^^.-t both belt., Lr:;^'°'»'----

Par-tive demerits of ZTwo''" "' '° ""« -"-
'o^g checked by the ,!, 7 T"' "^^^ ^"^ «'«

•■' very tall man orco„ . °' °^'"^''' '"•<'

tearing entered the rolTl I ^''^^'«=« ""d

looked ro«"d - • • ' *^°^ °^ Ws hat „„^

"' -"« a slight bow to the companT

f»

146

CIIAHLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

mil

m^i

l.f!l. .,> !■

There was nothinp; oomnmndinpf, howovor, in the
quiet voice with which ho asked the landlord if
he and his horse could be put up there for the
night.

The company knew at once, from the cut of the
stranger's tweed suit, as well as his tongue, that ho
was an Englishman, not much used to the ways of
the country — though, from the revolver and knife
in his belt, and the repeating rifle in his hand, he
seemed to be ready to meet the country on its own
terms by doing in Rome as Home does.

On being told that he could have a space on the
floor to lie on, which he might convert into a bed if
he had a blanket with him, ho seemed to make up
his mind to remain, asked for food, and wliilo it
was preparing went out to attend to his horse.
Then, returning, he went to a retired corner of the
room, and flung himself down at full length on a
vacant bench, as if he were pretty well exhausted
with fatigue.

The simple fare of the hostelry was soon ready ;
and when the stranger was engaged in eating it, he
asked a cow-boy beside him how far it was to
Traitor's Trap.

At the question there was a perceptible lull in
the conversation, and the cow-boy, who v/as a very
coarse forbidding specimen of his class, said that
he guessed Traitor's Trap was distant about twenty
mile or so.

OF THE SEA Ai„> TOT HOCK.W.

- • 147

the place whoro I ZZ I T "' "«' '"< «'

•"uch prefer to puah o>, to-Tlf^ '''^ ^ ''""^'^

" Wall, Bt«„ser whethn ! , ""'' •'"■'""«•"

tamed the cow-boy ^t J ^T'" "' "»'•" «"

for there 's a fian^ o^ .„ h "''^ ^ ^''''° *° «» VM,

country fi^if^rCrr?""'"'"^"'"''''''''
A man that's cot to !f J "'""' "">" l"^'t-

eo by like a tlljV, ?""°'"' '^'™P «•>-■'"
"ever go alone." ""'""erbolt, an' he should

En;ithit:r:::r;T^'''^-"-''eatho
-;^^hth.i.or.::r:,^;^«

Dangerous." exclaimed the cow-boy "Av •

'"" be as long as Buck Tom an' Z k ^' "

""''"''g. Why. stranger I'dT.^ .^^' "«

you bet, before I'd Jtt' .^*' ""^ ''*« '""ured,

crowd 0' men ft 1 /"""'"-^^"OP' '-"h « big

--t up that way. ther!"' " '"" '^'' ^^ ^

'» go-so I spTnt. ''^ «yself-for I /u^

^Vd. IgL?riol"^;,r'^^^'-«-. an-

on t'other side o' TrI or'! l "T '" ' ^"^^ J"«'
cheer up, thinkin' I 'd 1^ J ^* '''"" ^ "^8^° to

rrm.p " A U got Off SQUarfi ! hnf T U-.i „

o-e uuoDiier iiundred yards wL« ' " " '" " '"'*'''' ^

^»^^s when up starts Buck

ClIAULIfe; TO TIIK UE8CUK; A TALI

nil'

#* :»

m '

,ii

villi It

Tom an' his mon with 'hands up.' I wont hoad
down flat on my naddlo instead, T was so riled.
Hang w(5nt a six-shooter, an' the ball just combed
my back hair. I suppose liuck was so took by
surprise at a single man darin' to disobey his orders
that ho missed. Anyhow I socked spurs into Blue-
fire, an' made a break for the open country ahead.
They made after mo like locomotives wi' the safety-
valves blocked, but Bluefire was moro'n a match
for 'em. They kep' blazin' away all the time too,
but never touched me, though I heard the balls
whistlin' past for a good while. Bluefire an' mo
went, you bet, like a nor'easter in a passion, an' at
last they gave it up. No, stranger, take my advice
an' don't go past Traitor's Trap alone. I wouldn't
go there at all if I could help it."

" I don't intend to go past it. I mean to go inlo
it," said iho Englishman, with a short laugh, as he
laid down his knife and fork, having finished his
slight meal ; " and, as I cannot get a guide, I shall
be forced to go alone."

" Stranger," said the cow-boy in surprise, " d 'ye
want to meet wi' Buck Tom ? "

" Not particularly."

" An' are ye aware that Buck Tom is one o' the
most hardened, sanguinacious blackguards in all
Colorado?"

" I did not know it before, but I suppose I may
believe it now."

o» m ae* AKi. Tifn RooKiM. ,49

of the cow-boy. „„., fullya Ld T IT"'"""^
the counter with »„ • . "™'^'' "P '<>

demauded dri-r I Lr "'^T"'' '''•■«'""=«• «"<!
it off quick v-M 7,'"!PP'*«'' '""■'• He tossed

he asked- '" " ''««P-'oned voice

"Has the Kankin Creek Company sent thnf
account and the money ? " ^ '"*'

Profound silence had fallen nn .t, 1 ,
in the room the moment t^^,n '^ "'^ ^"''^

-idently looked aTh'm „ 3 "T^- '^''"^^
not respect. P'"^'"""' """«" if

^-irdrir^rr^"'''"^^'^"'''^

a-.ori3edmetopT;outl!r:::V-"'-

a«rt/:srkTo;TnS'"T ""■""'-

glance fco nnn -^ T ^°^ condescend to

Lrsti;rttcr-^''---'-^«

At that moment the Englishman re-entered went
lus corner, spread his blanket on tie It
ay down, put his wide-awake over Z tl'l"'
-«-a himself to repose, apparency™:

•

( I

• J

,iii

ill

160

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

sii'ii ''''

il ' .!

nil, Il

that anything special was going on, and obtusely
blind to the quiet but eager signals wherewith
the cow-boy was seeking to direct his attention to
Buck Tom.

In a few minutes the landlord found the paper
he wanted, and began to look over it.

" The company owes you," he said, " three hun-
dred dollars ten cents for the work done," said the
landlord slowly.

Buck nodded his head as if satisfied with this.

"Your account has run on a long while," con-
tinued the landlord, "and they bid me explain
that there is a debit of two hundred and ninety-
nine dollars against you. Balance in your favour
one dollar ten cents."

A dark frown settled on Buck Tom's counten-
ance, as the landlord laid the balance due on the
counter, and for a few moments he seemed in uncer-
tainty as to what he should do, while the land-
lord stood conveniently near to a spot where one of
his revolvers lay. Then Buck turned on his heel,
and was striding towards the door, when the land-
lord called him back.

" Excuse my stopping you, Buck Tom," he said,
" but there *s a gentleman here who wants a guide
to Traitor's Trap. Mayhap you wouldn't object
to "

" Where is he ?" demanded Buck, wheeling round,
with a look of slight surprise.

filfl

jii!";n!'''r

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. J 6 1

"There," said the landlord, pointing to the dark

asleep, with h.s hat pulled well down over his eyes
J^uckjo. looked at the Sleeping «g„. .or X

sometol r"' ' ""^'" 8«ide him," he said, with
something of a grim smile, " but I 'm travelling too
fast for comfort Ho ^- i.i. . ""vemng too

wav" h» ,/ , , °'^''* ''^"'P^^ ™«- By the

on ;h« / ' '""^'"^ ""^'^ "' •>« '«'<» Ws hand
on the door, "you may tell the Eankin Creek

to their offlee door, for I intend to call on them
ome day soon and balance up that little Lou!I

credit of their charity account "

lortT'' ""'""°' """^ ^"'^'^ Tom was gone. Be-
u?e7t7"f " "^ *^^"" '■^'^ quite recove^d

ieard ra tt r^''' *' ''"'"^^ "^ "« "orse were

heard rattling along the road which led in the
direction of Traitor's Trap.

" Was that really Buck Tom ? " asked Hunky Ben
in some surprise. ^ '

;;Ay-or his ghost," answered the landlord.

bov who t . ^ ' '' 'P"' ''**' '»«'" ^^M the cow-
boy, who had warned the Englishman.

CruY ? ""aci "7 " ' "" ^ "^ """^^ ^"^° ^^^ to-night,
^lux? asked a comrade.

I *

152

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

'i :ii

ill

i!|li?,lii||

1 1

"Just SO— you had a rare chance," remarked
another of the cow-boys, with something of a sneer
in his tone.

" Because I 'm not yet tired o' my life," replied
Crux, indignantly. " Buck Tom has got eyes in the
back o' his head, I do believe, and shoots dead like
a flash "

" Not that time he missed you at Traitor's Trap,
I think," said the other.

"Of course not — 'cause we was both mounted
that time, and scurryin' over rough ground like
wild-cats. The best o' shots would miss thar an'
thus. Besides, Buck Tom took nothin' from me,
an' ye wouldn't have me shoot a man for missin' me
—surely. If you 're so fond o' killin', why didn't
you shoot him yourself ? — you had a rare chance ! "

Crux grinned — for his ugly mouth could not
compass a smile — as he thought thus to turn the
tables on his comrade.

"Well, he's got clear off, anyhow, returned the
comrade, an' it 's a pity, for "

He was interrupted by the Englishman raising
himself and asking in a sleepy tone if there was
likely to be moonlight soon.

The company seemed to think him moonstruck to
ask such a question, but one of them replied that
the moon was due in half an hour.

" You 've lost a good chance, sir," said Crux, who
had a knack of making all his communications as

i'li

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 1 63

disagreeably as possible, unless they chanced to be
unavoidably agreeable, in which case he made the
worst of them. "Buck Tom hisself has just bin
here, an might have agreed to guide you to Tmitor's
Irap if you -d made him a good offer."

"Why did you not awake me?" asked the
Jinglishman in a reproachful tone, as he sprang ud
grasped his blanket hastily, threw down a pie^ of
money on the counter, and asked if the road wasn't
straight and easy for a considerable distance.

"Straight as an arrow for ten mUe," said the
landlord, as he laid down the change which the
Jinghshman put into an apparently well-filled purse

X 11 guide you, stranger, for five dollars," said

Urux.

"I want no guide," returned the other, somewhat
brusquely as he left the room.

A minute or two later he was heard to pass the
door on horseback at a sharp trot.

"Poor lad, he'll run straight into the wolf's den-
but why he wants to do it puzdes me," remarked
the landlord as he carefully cleaned a tankard,
iiut he would take no warning."

" The wolf doesn't seem half as bad as he 's bin
painted, said Hunky Ben, rising and offering to
pay his score. ^

Cruf *""' ^""''y~"°' 8oin' to skip, are ye ? " asked
"I told ye I was in a hurry. Only waitin' to

an^.

fit" ■

164

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

rest my pony. My road is the same as the
stranger's, at least part o* the way. I 'U overhaul
an' warn him."

A few minutes more and the broad-shouldered
scout was also galloping along the road or track
which led towards the Eocky mountains in the
direction of Traitor's Trap.

I III '

,11. II

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

160

CHAPTER XIII.

HDNKY BEN IS SORELY PERPLEXED.

It was one of Hunky Ben's few weaknesses to

take pride in being well mounted. When he left

the tavern he bestrode one of his best steeds-a

black charger of unusual size, which he had

purchased while on a trading trip in Texas-and

many a time had he ridden it while guiding the

United States troops in their frequent expeditions

against ill-disposed Indians. Taken both together

It would have been hard to equal, and impossible to

match, Hunky Ben and his coal-black mare.

From the way that Ben rode, on quitting the
tavern, it might have been supposed that legions
of wild Indians were at his heels. But after going
about a few miles at racing speed he reined in
and finally pulled up at a spot where a very slight
pathway diverged. Here he sat quite still for a few
mmutes in meditation. Then he muttered softly to
himself-for Ben was often and for long periods alone
- "•""'^ ""^ "" "^"tj piams, ana lound it some-
what « sociable-like » to mutter his thoughts audibly :

« s

I m

I J
•J

III!!

; ■ , ifffid

156 CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" You 've not cotched him up after all, Ben," he
said. "Black Polly a'most equals a streak o*
lightnin', but the Britisher got too long a start o'
ye, an' he 's clearly in a hurry. Now, if I follow on
he '11 hear your foot^falls, Polly, an' p'raps be scared
into gom' faster to his doom. Whereas, if I go off
the track here an' drive ahead so as to git to the
Blue Fork before him, I'll be able to stop the
B'lck's little game, an' save the poor fellow's Ufe.
Buck is sure to stop him at the Blue Fork, for it 's
a handy spot for a road-agent,i and there 's no other
near."

Hunky Ben was pre-eminently a man of action.
As he uttered or thought the last word he gave a
little chirp which sent Black Polly along the
diverging track at a speed which almost justified
the comparison of her to lightning.

The Blue Fork was a narrow pass or gorge in the
hills, the footpath through which was rendered
rugged and dangerous for cattle because of the
rocks that had fallen during the course of ages
from the cliffs on either side. Seen from a short
distance off on the main track the mountains
beyond had a brilliantly blue appearance, and a few
hundred yards on the other side of the pass the
track forked—hence the name. One foik led up to
Traitor's Trap, the other to the foit of Quester
Creek, an ont-post of United States troops for whioh

* A highwayman.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 157

Hunky Ben was bound with the warning that the
Redskins were contemplating mischief. As Ben
had conjectured, this was the spot selected by
Buck Tom as the most suitable place for way-
laying his intended victim. Doubtless he supposed
that no Englishman would travel in such a country
without a good deal of money about him, and he
resolved to relieve him of it.

It was through a thick belt of wood that the
scout had to gallop at first, and he soon outstripped
the traveller who kept to the main and, at that part,
more circuitous road, and who was besides obliged
to advance cautiously in several places. On nearing
liis destination, however, Ben pulled up, dismounted,
fastened his mare to a tree, and proceeded the rest
of the way on foot at a run, carrying his repeating
rifle with him. He had not gone far when he came
upon a horse. It was fastened, like his own, to a
tree in a hollow.

"Ho! ho!" thouf^ht Ben, "you prefer to do yer
dirty work on foot, Mr. Buck ! Well, you 're not far
wrong in such a place."

Advancing now with great caution, the scout left
the track and moved through the woods more like a
visible ghost than a man, for he was well versed in
all the arts and wiles of the Indian, and his mocca-
sined feet made no sound whatever. Climbing up
the pass at some height above the level of the road,
so that he might be able to see all that took place

168 CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE: A TALE

bolow, ho at last lay down at full length, and drew
himself in snako fashion to the edge of the thicket
that concealed him. Pushing aside the bushes
gently he looked down, and there, to his satisfac-
tion, beheld the man he was in search of, not thirty
yards off.

Buck Tom was crouching behind a large mass of
rock close to the track, and so lost in the dark
shadow of it that no ordinary man could have seen
him; but nothing could escape the keen and
practised eye of Hunky Ben. He could not
indeed make out the highwayman's form, but he
knew that he was there and that was enough.
Laying his rifle on a rock before him in a handy
position he silently watched the watcher.

During all this time the Englishman— whom the
reader has doubtless recognised as Charlie Brooke-
was pushing on as fast as he could in the hope of
overtaking the man who could guide him io Traitor's
Trap.

At last he came to the Blue Forks, and rode into
the pass with the confidence of one who suspects no
evil. He drew rein, however, as he advanced, and
picked his way carefully along the encumbered
path.

He had barely reached the middle of it, where a
clear space permitted the moonbeams to fall brightly
on the ground, when a stern voice suddenly broke
the stillness of the night with th

(.ii "t

n
UBIif

nd drew
) thicket
bushes
satisfac-
)t thirty

mass of
he dark
ive seen
3n and
Id not
but ho
enough,
handy

om the
ooke —
lope of
raitor's

ie into
jcts no
d, and
ibered

here a
ightly
broke

OF THE SEA AND THE HOCKIES. ISQ

" Hands up ! "

Charlie Brooke seemed either to be ignorant of
the ways of tlie country and of the fact tliat dis-
obedience to the command involved sudden death,
or he had grown unaccountably reckless, for instead
of raising his arms and submitting to be searched
by the robber who covered him with a revolver
he merely reined up and took off his hat, allowing
the moon to shine full on his countenance

The effect on Buck Tom was singular. Standing
with his back to the moon, his expression could not
be seen, but his arm dropped to his side as if it had
been paralysed, and the revolver fell to the ground
Kever had Buck Tom been nearer to his end than
at that moment, for Hunky Ben, seeing clearly what
would be the consequence of the Englishman's non-
compliance with the command, was already pressing
the trigger that would have sent a bullet into Buck
Tom's brain, but the Englishman's strange conduct
mduced him to pause, and the effect on the robber
caused him to raise his head and open wide his eyes
— also his ears I

"Ah! Ealph Eitson, has it come to this?" said
Charlie, in a voice that told only of pity and surprise.

lor some moments Ealph did not speak. He
was evidently stunned. Presently he recovered
and, passing his hand over his brow, but never tak-
ing his eyes off the handsome f.ce of his former
inena. He said in a low tone—

III

1 60 CHAKLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" I— I—^ou't foci very suro whether you're flesh
and blood, Vmoh^. or a spirit— but— but "

"I'm real j .ugh to be able to shako hands,
Ritson," returned our hero, disniou..Jng, and going
up to his former friend, wlio aufforcd him to grasp
the hand that had been or the point of taking
his life. " But can it be true, that 1 really fiud you

"It is true, Charlie Brooke; quite true— but
while you see the result, you do not see, and cannot
easily understand, the hard grinding injustice that
has brought me to this. The last and worst blow I
received this very night. I have urgent need of
money-not for myself, believe me-and T came
down to David's store, at some personal risk, I may
add, to receive payment of a sum due me fbr acting
as a cow-boy for many months. The company,

instead of paying me "

" Yes, I knov7 ; I heard it all," said Charlie.
" You were only shamming sleep, then ?"
" Yes ; I knew you at once."
" Well, then," continued Buck Tom (as we shall
stiU continue to style him), " the disappointment
made me so desperate that I determined to rob you
—little thinking who you were— in order to help

poor Shank Leather "

"Does Shank stand in urgent need of help?"
asked Charlie, interrupting.
"He does indeed. He has been very ill. We

ro flush

hands,
tl going
grnsp

taking
iud you

le — but
cannot
ce that
blow I
leed of
[ camo
I may
acting

) shall
itment
b you
) help

OF TUE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 161

have run out of funds, and ho needs food and physic
of a kind that the mountains don't furnish "

VDoes he belong to your band, Ritson V
well— nearly ; not quite I"

"That is a strange answer. How far is it to
where ho lies just now?"

"Six miles, about."

"Com., then, I will go to him if you will show
n. tho way," roturnod Charlie, preparing to remounl

l.avo plenty of that which poor Sha^k atari ,o

nuch m r.eed of. I„ fact I have come here fo the

express purpose of hunting him and you up. WouU

Jt not be well, by the way, to ride back to tl.r^^^oL

for some supplies ?"

"No need," answered Buck Tom, stooping f» pick

irom this to winch we can send to-moirow. We
can get what we want there."

"But what have you done with your horse?"
asked Charlie ; " I heard you start on one "
"It IS not far ofr. I '11 go fetch it "
So saying the robber entered the bushes and dis-
appeared A few minutes later the clattering f
oofs was heard, and in another moment he rode
«P to the spot where our hero awaited him

i.a;riru2;o:^"''"°^^''~''--

^ ring all this time Hunkv Ben hnH «fo"'> -■•'h
fle ready, listening with the feelings of a man

c *

* «

his

16S

CIlAULIK TO TIIF. KKHCUE : A TALE

'HI

(■ * •■

f f;

•1

in a (Iroam. Ho wfltchud the robber and hia victim
rido quiotly away until thoy were out of eight.
Then ho ntood up, tilted his cap on one side, and
scratched his head in great perplexity.

"Well, now," he said at length," this is about the
queerest alTair I 'vo conied across since I was raised.
It's a marcy I was born with a quiet spirit, for
another chip off the small end of a moment an*
Buck Tom would have bin with his fathers in their
happy, or otherwise, huntin* grounds! It's quite
clear that them two have bin friends, mayhap pards,
in the old country. An' Buck Tom (that 's Ilitson,
I think ho called him) has bin driven to it by injus-
tice, has ho ? Ah 1 Buck, if all the world that suf-
fers injustice was to take to robbery it 's not many
re pectable folk would be left to rob. Well, well,
my comin' off in such a splittin' hurrv to take care
o' this Britisher is a wild-goose chase arter all !
It 's not the first one you 've bin led into anyhow,
an' it 's time you was lookin' arter yer own business,
Hunky Bon."

While giving vent to these remarks in low mut-
tering tones, the scout was quickly retracing his
steps to the place where ho had tied up Black Polly.
Mounting her he returned to the main track, pro-
ceeded along it until he reached the place beyond
the pass where the roads forked; then, selecting
that which diverged to the left, he set off at a hard
gallop in the direction of Quester Creek.

or TrrR ska and inE nocKiKa

163

iff''

CHAPTKH XIV.

Till! HAUNT or TIIK OUTLAWS.

Amn riding tlaongl, tho IM..0 Fork Clmrlio
and I .cic To,,. ca,„o to a stretch of open grou^l
co,,,>derab e extent, whore they could ride aire ,t
..a here tho latter gave the for,ner some accoun „'
the condition of Shank Leather.

"Tell me, Kitson," said Chailie, "what yon mean
by Shank 'nearly' and -not onifn' i,„i •
your hand." ^ belonging to

Tho outlaw was silent for some time. T'.en ho

scon,ed to make up his mind to speak out.

Brooke," he said, "it did, till this night seem to
me that all the better feelings of my naturi- vlt
ever they were-had been blotted out of existen .
for smce I came to this part of the world the eruelty
and injustice that I have witnessed and sulTercd
have driven me to desperation, and I candidly con-
fess to you that I have come to hate pretty nigh
he whole human race. The grip of your hand a^d
tone ot your voice, however. hnv« f„w ^„ .1,.. j
'■"ve not yet sunk to the lowest possible" depths

' :

f I

' I

164

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

I . 'i;)

y I

I.';

ill. i; I

fi/ijii -'I'l

iii|:i

lili!:

rimym

,'^'" 'IPI!

But that is not what I mean to enlarge on. What
I wish you to understand is, that after Shank and I
had gone to the dogs, and were reduced to beggary,
I made up my mind to join a band of men who
lived chiefly by their wits, and sometimes by their
personal courage. Of course I won't say who they
are, because we still hang together, and there is
no need to say what we are. The profession is
variously named, and not highly respected.

''Shank refused to join me, so we parted. He
remained for some time in New York doing odd
jobS' for a living. Then he joined a small party of
emigrants, and journeyed west. Strange to say,
although the country is wide, he and I again met
accidentally. My fellows wanted to overhaul the
goods of the emigrants with whom he travelled.
They objected. A fight followed in which there
was no bloodshed, for the emigrants fled at the first
war-whoop. A shot from one of them, however,
wounded one of our men, and one of theirs was so
drunk at the time of the flight that he fell off his
horse and was captured. That man was Shank. I
recognised him when I rode up to see what some of my
boys were quarrelling over, and found that it was the
wounded man wanting to shove his knife into Shank.

" The moment I saw his face I claimed him as an
old chum, and had him carried up to our head-
quarters in Traitor's Trap. There he has remained
ever since, in a very shaky condition, for the fall

llllilli'i

OP THE SEA AND THE BOOKIES. 165

seems to have injured him internally, besides almost
breaking his neck. Indeed I think his spine is
damaged,-.he recovers so slowly. We have tried to
persuade him to say that he will become one of us
when he gets well, but up to this time he has
steadily refused. I am not sorry; for, to say truth,
1 don t want to force any one into such a line of life
-and he does not look as if he'd be fit for it or
anything else, for many a day to come."

"But how does it happen that you are in such
straits just now?" asked Charlie, seeing that Buck
paused, and seemed unwilling to make further
explanations.

"Well, the fact is, we have not been successful of
late ; no chances have come in our way, and two of
our best men have taken their departure-one to
gold-digging in California, the other to the happy
hunting grounds of the Eedskin, or elsewhere.
Luck, in short, seems to have forsaken us. Pious
tolk, he added, with something of a sneer, "would
say, no doubt, that God had forsaken us."

"I think pious people would not say so, and they
would be wrong if they did," returned Charlie. « In
my opinion God never forsakes any one ; but when
His creatures forsake him He thwarts them. It
cannot be otherwise if His laws are to be vindicated »
^ "It maj be so. But what have I done," said
x>uck Tom fiercely, "to merit the bad treatment

and insufferable ini,iof;o« —uj-i. t i . .

— ct».Ao i-xj««i,iv.o Wiiiuii 1 nave received

pii!».i

I j

1G6

CIIAIILIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

Mil
I)'

lliiiilil

since I came to this accursed land ? I cannot stand
injustice. It makes my blood boil, and so, since it
is rampant here, and everybody has been unjust to
me, I have made up my mind to pay them back in
their own coin. There seems to me even a spice of
justice in that."

" I wonder that you cannot see the fallacy of your
reasoning, liitson," replied Charlie. "You ask,
* What have I done ?' The more appropriate ques-
tion would be, ' What have I not done V Have you
not, according to your own confession, rebelled
against your Maker and cast Him off; yet you expect
Him to continue His supplies of food to you; to
keep up your physical strength and powers of enjoy-
ing life, and, under the name of Luck, to furnish you
with the opportunity of breaking His own commands
by throwing people in your way to be robbed!
Besides which, have you not yourself been guilcy of
gro- 3 injustice in leading poor weak Shank Leather
into vicious courses— to his great, if not irreparable,
damage? I don't profess to teach theolcgy, Ealph
Eitson, my old friend, but I do think that even an
average cow-boy could understand that a rebel has
no claim to forgiveness— much less to favour— until
he lays down his arms and gives in."

"Had any other man but you, Charlie Brooke,
said half as much as you ha\e just said to me, I
would have blown his brains out," returned the
outlaw sternly.

OF THE 8BA AND THE ROCKIES. 167

" ^ '^ """^ S^'"^ "0 Other man did say it then "
returned Charlie, "for y„u,. hands mj b' suffi-
-eat y a axned already. But don't let anger IZ
you to the fact, Ealph, that you and I wtre one

what as of far greater importance, the Almighty is

Zi:z;:T- '''''''-''' ''''''-'^'^^^

"You preach a strange doctrine," said Buck Tom

augh-g softly, ..but you must end your sermon'

here m the meantime, for we have reached the

entrance to Traitor's Trap, and have not room to

nde further abreast. I will lead, and do you follow

w.th care, for the path is none o' the safest. My

asking you to follow me is a stronger proof than

you may thmk that I believe in your friendship.

Mos strangers whom I escort ap this gorge are

usually requested to lead the way, and I keep my

tact :'' '''' '^'^ ''"'"" ''™y ^'■'»" '^'

The defile or gorge which they had reached was
not mappropriately named, for, although the ori..in
the name was unknown, the appearance of the
place was eminently suggestive of blackness and
reachery. T.,70 spurs of tlie mountain ran^e
termed a precipitous and rugged valley which
even m daylight, wore a forbidding aspect, and at
Mght seemed the very portal to Erebus.
"Keep close to my horse's tail," said Buck Tom

■If.

I I

ii .

11 }

I |ii!li

168

CIIAIILTE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

as they commenced the ascent. " If you stray here,
ever so little, your horse will break his neck or
legs."

Thus admonished, our hero kept a firm hand on
the bridle, and closed up as much as possible on his
guide. The moon was by this time clouded over,
so that, with the precipitous cliffs on either side, and
the great mass of the mountains further up, there
was only that faint sombre appearance of things
which is sometimes described as darkness visible.
The travellers proceeded slowly, for, besides the
dangQr of straying off the path, the steepness of the
ascent rendered rapid motion impossible. After
riding for about three miles thus in absolute silence,
they came to a spot where the track became some-
what serpentine, and Charlie could perceive dimly
that they were winding amongst great fragments of
rock which were here and there over-canopied by
foliage, but whether of trees or bushes he could not
distinguish. At last they came to a halt in front of
what appeared to be a cliff.

"Dismount here," said Buck in a low voice,
setting the example.

" Is this the end of our ride ? "
"It is. Give me the bridle. I will put up your
horse. Stand where you are ti^l I return."

The outlaw led the horses away, leaving his
former friend and schoolfellow in a curious position,
and a not very comfortable frame of mind.

fJtei '

OF THE SEA AND THE I100KIE3. 169

When a man is engaged in 'action— especially if
it be exciting and slightly dangeroas-he has not
time to think much about his surroundings, at least
about their details, but now, while standing there
in the intense darkness, in the very heart— as he
had reason to believe-of a robber's ^iitronghold,
young Brooke could not help questioning his
wisdom in having thus thrown himself into the
power of one who had obviously deteriorated and
fallen very low since the time when in England
they had studied and romped together. It was too
late, however, to question the wisdom of his conduct.
There he was, and so he must make the best of it.
He did not indeed fear treachery in his former
friend, but he could not help reflecting that the
reckless and perhaps desperate men with whom
that friend was now associated might not be easy
to restrain, especially if they should become ac-
quainted with the fact that he carried a considerable
sum of money about him.

He was yet pondering his position when Buck
Tom returned.

"Ealph Eitson," he said, laying his hand on the
arm of the outlaw, " you 'II forgive my speaking
plamly to you, I know. With regard to yourself I
bave not a shadow of doubt that you will act the
part of an honourable host, though you follow a
dishonourable calling. But I have no guarantee
that those who associate with you will resDect my

■mu:

170

CHARLIE TO TIIK llESCUE : A TALIS

si^jl|p;!jiii!!:i,iih

iiiii

^iii

property. Now, I have a considcrablo sum of
money about mo in gold and silver, which I brought
here expressly for the benefit of our poor frimid
Shank Leather. What would you advise me to do
in regard to it 'i "

"Intrust it to my care," said Buck promptly.
Charlie could not see the outlaw's face very
clearly, but he could easily detect the half-amused
half-mocking tone in which the suggestion was made.
*'lly good fellow," said Charlie, in a hearty voice,
"you evidently think I am afraid to trust you!
That 13 a mistake. I do not indeed trust to any
remnant of good that is in your poor human nature,
but 1 have confidence in the good feeling which God
is arousing in you just now. I will freely hand
over the money if you can assure me that you can
guard it from your comrades."

" This will make it secure from them," returned
Buck, with a short defiant laugh.

"Humph!" exclaimed Charlie with a shrug.
" I Ve not much confidence in that safeguard. No
doubt, in certain circumstances, and on certain oc-
casions, the revolver is a most important and use-
ful instrument, but taking it all round I would not
put much store by it. When you met me at the
Blue Fork to-night, for instance, of what use was
my revolver to me ? And, for the matter of that
after you had dropped it on the road of what use
was yours to you ? It only wants one of your

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

MIows to have more pluck aad a quicker eye and
hand than yourself to detlirone you at once."

"Well, none of my fellows," returned Buck Tom
good-humouredly, "happen to have the advantage
of me at present, so you may trust me and count
this one 0' the 'certain occasions' in which the
revolver is 'a most important instrument.'"

"I dare say you are right," responded Charlie
smiling, as he drew from the breast of his coat a
small bag and handed it to his companion.

"You know exactly, of course, how much is
here? "asked Buck Tom.

" Yes, exactly."

"That's all right," continued Buck, thrusting the
bag into the bosom of his hunting coat ; " now I '11
see if any o' the hoys are at home. Doubtless they
are out-else they 'd have heard us by this time.
Just wait a minute."

He seemed to melt into the darkness as he spoke.
Another minute and he re-appeared.

" Here, give me your hand," he said ; " the passage
IS darkish at first."

Charlie Brooke felt rather than saw that they
had passed under a portal of some sort, and were
advancing along a narrow passage. Soon they turned
to the left, and a faint red light-as of fire-became
visible m the distance. Buck Tom stopped.

" There 's no one in the cave but Mm, and he 'a
asleep. Follow me."

'itl

I !

172

OIIAULIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

Hi-:

The passage in which they stood led to a tliird
and shorter one, where the light at its extremity
was intense, lighting up the whole of the place so
as to reveal its character. It was a corridor
about seven feet high and four feet wide cut out
of the solid earth; arched in the roof and sup-
ported here and there by rough posts to make it
still more secure. Charlie at once concluded that it
led to one of those concealed caverns, of which he
had heard more than once while crossing the
country, the entrances of which are made in zig-zag
form in order to prevent the possibility of a ray of
light issuing from the outside opening.

On reaching the end of the third passage he
found that his conjecture was right, for the door-
way or opening on his left hand conducted into a
spacious cave, also hollowed out of the earth, but
apparently against a perpendicular cliff, for the
inner end of it was of unhewn rocK. The roof of the
cave was supported by piUars which were merely
sections of pine-trees with the bark left on. These
pillars and the earthen walls were adorned with
antlers, skulls, and horns of the Eocky mountain
sheep, necklaces of grizzly-bear's claws, Indian bows
and arrows, rifles, short swords, and various other
weapons and trophies of the chase, besides sundry
articles of clothing. At the inner end of the cave
a large fireplace and chimney had been rudely built,
and in this was roaring the pine-wood fire which

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

173

had lighted them in, and which caused the whole
interior to glow with a vivid glare that seemed to
suipass that of noon-day.

A number of couches of pine-brush were spread
round the walls, and on one of tliese lay a sleeping
figure. Tlie face was turned towards the visitor,
who saw at a glance that it was that of his former
friend and playmate—but it was terribly changed.
Hard toil, suffering, sickness, dissipation, had°set
indelible marks on it, and there was a slight curve
about the eyebrows which gave the idea of° habitual
pain. Yet, strange to say, worn and lined though
it was, the face seemea far more attractive and
refined than it had ever been in the days of robust
health.

Buck Tom went to the fire and began to stir the
contents of a big pot that hung over it, while
Charlie advanced and stood for some minutes gazing
at the countenance of his friend, unwilling to dis*^
turb his slumbers, yet longing to cheer him with
the glad news that he had come to succour him.
He chanced, however, to touch a twig of the pine
branches on which the sleeper lay, and Shank awoke
mstantly, raised himself on one elbow, and returned
his friend's gaze earnestly, but without the slightest
symptom of surprise.

^^ " Charlie," he seid at last, in a quiet voice,
"I wish you hadn't come to me to-night."
He stopped, and Charlie felt quite unable to

174

CIIAULIE TC THE RESCUE : A TALK

spoak, owing to intense pity, n)inp:lo(l with astonisli-
luent, at such a reception.

"It's too bad of yc.u," Shank wont on, "worrying
mo so in my chviuna. I 'ni weary of it; nnd if you
only kninv what a ten-ible disai.pointnient it is to
mo when I awake and don't lind you there, you
wouUhi't tanlidisu mo so. You always look so ter-
ribly real too I Man, I could almost pledge my life
that you are no decei)tiou this time, but -but I'm

so used to it now that "

" Slumk, my dear boy," said Charlie, finding words

at last, " it is no deception "

He stopped abni})tly, for the intense look of
cngor anxiety, doubt, and hope in the thin expres-
sive face alarmed liim.

" Charlie 1" gasped, rather than said, the invalid,
"you— you never sjwh to me before in my dreams,'
and— you never touched— iho grip of your strong

h God 1 can it be true ?"

At this point Buck Tom suddenly left off his
occupation at the fire and went out of the cave. '

Ji.

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OF TIIK SEA AND THE K0CKIE8.

17ft

citapti:r XV.

LOVr AND FotTND.

^ " Try to be calm, Rlmnk." said Cl.arlio, in a sooth-
ing tone. Qs ho knoohul l)e,sido tho shadow that had
oiico boon his sturdy chum, and put an arm on
his sliouklor. " It is indeed myself this time I
have come all the way from England to seek you
for we heard, through liitson, that you wore ill and
lost m these wilds, and now, through God's mercy
I have found you."

While Charlie Brooke was speaking, the poor
invalid was breathing hard and gazing at him, as if
to make quite sure it was all true.

" Yes," he said at last, unable to raise his voice
above a hoarse whisper, " lost~and-and-found »

Charlie, my friend— my chum—my "

He could say no more, but, laying his head like a
ittle child on the broad bosom of his rescuer, he
burst into a passionate flood of tears.

Albeit strong of will, and not 'by any means
given to the melting mood, our hero was unable
for a minute or two to make free use of his
voice.

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176

OHAKLIB TO THE KESOUE : A TALE

" Come, now, Shank, old man, you mustn't give
way like that. You wouldn't, you know, if you had
not been terribly reduced by illness "

" Yes, I would 1 yes, I would !" interrupted the
sick man, almost passionately; "I 'd howl, I *d roar,
I'd blubber like a very idiot, I'd do any mortal thing,
if the doing of it would only make you understand
how I appreciate your great kindness in coming out
here to save me."

"Oh no, you wouldn't," said Charlie, afifecting an
easy off-hand tone, which he was far from feeling ;
"you wouldn't do anything to please me."

" What d' ye mean ?" asked Shank, with a look of
surprise.

"Well, I mean," returned the other, gently, "that
you won't even do such a trifle as to lie down and
keep quiet to please me."

A smih lighted up the emaciated features of the
sick man, as he promptly lay back at full length and
shut his eyes.

"There, CharUe," he said, "I'll behave, and let
you do all the talking; but don't let go my hand,
old man. Keep a tight grip of it. I 'm terrified
lest you drift off again, and— and melt away."

" No fear. Shank. I '11 not let go my hold of you,
please God, till I carry you back to old England."

" Ah ! old England I I '11 never see it again. I
feel that. But tell me "— he started up again, with a
return of the excited look— "is father any better ?"

OF THE SEA AND THE KOCKIEa 07

"K-no. not exactly-but he is no worse. I'll
teU you aU about everything if you will only lie
down again and keep silent."

The invalid once more lay back, closed his eyes
and hstened. while his friend related to him all that
he knew about his fami:y affairs, and the kindness
of old Jacob Crossley, who had not only befriended
them when in great distress, but had furnished the
money to enable him (Charlie) to visit these out-
land«h regions for the express purpose of rescuing
Shank from all his troubles and dangers.

At this point the invalid interrupted him with an
anxious look.

" Have you the money with you ?"
" Yes."

"All of it?"

" Yes. Why do you ask ?"

"Because," returned Shank, with something of a
groan, "you are in a den of thieves I"

"I know it, my boy," returned Charlie, with a
smile, "and so, for better security, I have given it
in charge to our old chum, Ealph Eitson "

"Whatl" exclaimed Shank, starting up again

2m r °^"* '^''' "^°" ^^^^ ■"*' ^P'''
" I have. He conducted me here."
'I And you have intrusted your money to him r

Yes— all of it ; every cent !"
"Are you aware/' continued Shark, in a solemn

178

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALK

tone, " that Ralph Ritson is Buck Tom — the noted
chief of the outlaws ?"

"I know it."

" And you trust him ?"

" I do. I have perfect confidence that he is quite
incapable of betraying an old friend."

For some time Shank looked at his companion in
surprise; then an absent look came into his eyes,
and a variety of expressions passed over his wan
visage. At last he spoke.

" I don't know how it is, Charlie, but somehow I
think you are right. It 's an old complaint of mine,
you know, to come round to your way of thinking,
whether I admit it or not. In days of old I usually
refused to admit it, but believed in you all the
same ! If any man had told me this morning — ay,
even half an hour since — that he had placed money
in the hands of Buck Tom for safe keeping, know-
ing who and what he is, I would have counted him
an incurable i^ol ; but now, somehow, I do believe
that you were quite right to do it, and that your
money is as safe as if it were in the Bank of
England."

" But I did not intrust it to Buck Tom, knowing
who and what he is" returned Charlie, with a signi-
ficant smile, "I put it into the hands of Ealph
Eitson, knowing who and what he was."

"You're a good fellow, Charlie," said Shank,
squeezing the hand that held his, " and I believe it

OF THE SEA AND THE BOOKIES. 1 79

is that very trustfulness of yours which gives vou
so great power and influence with people. I know
It has influenced me for good many a time in the
past, and would continue to do so still if I were not
past redemption."

"No man is past redemption," said the other

He stopped abruptly, and both men turned their
eyes towards the entrance to the cave.

"Did you hear anything?" asked Shank, in a
low voice.

"I thought so-but it must have been the shift-

hi to *j "" *""' ^"''" "^^ *'*' "*''• •'' » """^wiy

toJ« T,V°\^''''*^'" "^"^ Shank, in his ordinaiy
tones, let me hear something about yourself. You

doing these three years past."

™i' '^ '^^' * '"^^* ""* ""^ "S'^^ heard in the
passage, and, next moment, Buck Tom re-entered
cariying a lump of meat. Whether he had been
hstemng or not they had no means of knowing, for
his countenance was quite grave and naturd in
appearance.

" I suppose you have had long enough, yon two to
renew your old acquaintance," he said. «Itbeho;es

agamst their return, for they would be iU-pleased to

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180

CIIAULIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

come home to an empty kettle, and their appetites
are surprisingly strong. But you needn't interrupt
your conversation. I can do my work without
disturbing you."

"We have no secrets to communicate, Buck,"
returned Shank, "and I have no doubt that the
account of himself, which our old chum was just
going to give, will be as interesting to you as to
me."

" Quite as interesting," rejoined Buck ; " so pray
go on, Brooke. I can listen while I look after the
cookery."

Thus urged, our hero proceeded to relate his own
adventures at sea— the wreck of the Walrus, the
rescue by the whaler, and his various experiences
both afloat and ashore.

" The man, Dick Darvall, whom I have mentioned
several times," said Charlie, in conclusion, " I met
with again in New York, when I was about to start
to come here, and as I wanted a companion, and he
was a most suitable man, besides being willing to
come, I engaged him. He is a rough and ready, but
a handy and faithful, man, who had some experience
in woodcraft before he went to sea, but I have been
forced to leave him behind me at a ranch a good
many miles to the south of David's store, owing to
the foolish fellow having tried to jump a creek in
the dark and broken his horse's leg. We could not
get another horse at the time, and as I was very

0» THE SKA AND TIIR ROCimSS. IgJ

T iTt the ranch was a comfortable enough berth,
I left h,m behind, aa I have said, with directions to
stay tall I should return, or to push on if he could
find a safe guide."

While Charlie Brooke was relating the last part
of his experience, it might have been observed that
the countenance of Buck Tom underwent a variety
of cunous changes, like the sky of an April day A
somewhat stem frown settled on it at last," but
neither of his companions observed the fact, bein<-
too much interested in each other. "

"What was the name o' the ranch where your
mate was left V asked Buck Tom, when his guest
ceased speaking. ''

^ "The ranch of Soaring Bull," answered Charlie.
I should not wonder," he added, "if its name
were denved from its owner's voice, for it sounded
hke he blast of a trombone when he shouted to his
pGople.

^ "Not only his ranch but himself is named after
h.8 voice,' returned Buck. "His real name is
Jackson, but it is seldom used now. Eveiy one
knows him as Eoaring Bull He 's not a bad fellow
at bottom, but something overbearing, and has made
a good many enemies since he came to this part of
the country six years ago."

" That may be so," remarked Brooke, « but he was
veiy kind to us the day we put up at his place, and

183

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALI

Dick Darvall, at all events, is not one of his enemies.
Indeed he and Roaring Bull took quite a fancy to
each other. It seemed like love at first sight.
Whether Jackson's pretty daughter had anything
to do with the fancy on Dick's part of course I can't
say. Now, I think of it, his readiness to remain
behind inclines me to believe it had !"

"Well, come outside with me, and have a chat
about old times. It is too hot for comfort here. I
dare say our friend Shank will spare you for quarter
of an hour, and the pot can look after itself. By
the way, it would be as well to call me Buck Tom—
or Buck. My fellows would not understand Ealph
Ritson. They never heard it before. Have a
cigar?"

" No, thank you, I have ceased to see the advan-
tage of poisoning one's-self merely because it is the
fashion to do so."

" The poison is wonderfully slow," said Buck.

"But not less wonderfully sure," returned Charlie,
with a smile.

"As you will," rejoined Buck, rising and going
outside with his visitor.

The night was very still and beautiful, and,
the clouds having cleared away, the moonbeams
struggled through the foliage and revealed the
extreme wildness and seclusion of the spot which
had been chosen by the outlaws as their fortress.

Charlie now saw that the approach to the entrance

II! 11

OF THE 8BA AND THE ROCKIES. 188

of the cave was a narrow nock of rock resembling a
natural bridge, with a deep gully on either side, and
that the cliff which formed the inner end of the
cavern overhung its base, so that if an enemy were
to attempt to hurl rocks down from above theso
would drop beyond the cave altogether. This much
he saw at a glance. The minute details and intri-
cacies of the place of course could not be properly
seen or understood in the flickering and uncertain
light which penetrated the leafy canopy, and. as it
were, played with the shadows of the fallen rocks
that strewed the ground everywhere, and hung in
apparently perilous positions on the mountain
slopes.

The manner of the outlaw changed to that of
mtense earnestness the moment he got out to the
open air.

"Charlie Brooke," he said, with more of the tone
and air of old familiar friendship than he had yet
allowed himself to assume, "it's of no use exciting
poor Shank unnecessarily, so I brought you out here
to tell you that your man Dick Darvall is in deadly
peril, and nothing but immediate action on my part
can save him; I must ride without delay to his
rescue. You cannot help me in this. I know what
you are going to propose, but you must trust and
obey me if you would save your friend's life. To
accompany me would only delay and finally mar
my plans. Now, will you "

ii/.

1 ,

184 CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

A peculiar whistle far down the gorge cmscd the
outlaw to cease abruptly and listen.

The whistle was repeated, and Buck answered it
at once with a look of great surprise.

" Those are my fellows back already I " he said.

" You seem surprised. Did you, then, not expect
them so soon ? "

"I certainly did not; something must have
gone wrong," replied Buck, with a perplexed look.
Then, as if some new idea had flashed upon him,
"Kow, look here, Brooke, I must ask you to trust
me implicitly and to act a part. Your life may
depend on your doing this."

" The first I can do with ease, but as to the latter,
my agreeing to do so depends on whether the action
you require of me is honourable. You must forgive
me. Kits "

"Hush I Don't forget that there is no such man
as Ralph Ritson in these mountains. My life may
depend on your remembering that. Of course I
don't expect you to act a dishonourable part,— all
I want you to do just now is to lie down and pre-
tend to go to sleep."

" Truly, if that is all I am ready," said Charlie •
"at all events I will shut my eyes and hold my
tongue."

"A useful virtue at times, and somewhat rare,"
said Buck, leading his guest back into the cavern.
"Now, then, Brooke, lie down there," pointing to

OF THE SKA AND THR ROOKIM. 1 80

a couch of pine-brush in a corner, "and try to sleep
if you can."

Our }»oro at onco complied, stretched himself at
full length with his face to the light, and apparently
went to sleep, but with his left arm thrown over his
forehead as if to protect his eyes from the glare of
the fire. Thus he was in a position to see as well
as hear all that went on. Buck Tom went to the
sick man and whispered something to him. Then,
returning to the fire, he continued to stir the big
pot, and sniff its savoury contents with much
interest

186

CHARLIE TO THE HESCUi: A TALI

CHAPTER XVI.

flUiWDB AND r0U~VUm AND COUNTMPLOTI -
TIIK RANCH IN DANOER.

In a few minutes the Bound of heavy feet and
grufif voices was heard in the outside passage, and
next moment ten men filed into the room and
saluted their chief heartily.

Charlie felt an almost irresistible tendency to
open his eyes, but know that the risk was too great,
and contented himself with his ears. These told
him pretty eloquently what was going on, for sud-
denly, the noise of voices and clattering of footsteps
ceased, a dead silence ensued, and Charlie knew
that the whole band were gazing at him with wide
open eyes and, probably, open mouths. Their
attention had been directed to the stranger by the
chief. The silence was only momentary, however.

"Now, don't begin to whisper, pards," said Buck
Tom, in a slightly sarcastic tone. "When will ye
learn that there is nothing so Hkely to waken a
sleeper as whisperin' ? Be natural—be natural, and
tell me, as softly as ye can in your natural tones.

Of TIIK BRA AND Till ROCKHW. 187

what haa brought you back go soon. Come, Jake,
you have got the quiotest voice. The poor man is'
pretty well knocked up and needs reat I brought
him here."

"Ho8 ho got much ?•• the sentence was com-

pleted by Jake significantly slapping his pocket.

•' A goodish lot But come, sit down and out wi'
the news. Something must bo wrong."

"Wall. I guess that somothin' is wrong. Every-
thing 's wrong, as far as I can see. The Prriskins
are up, an' the troops are out, an' so it seemed o'
no use our goin' to 'bust up the ranch of Eoarin*
Hull, seein' that the red devils are likely to be there
before us. So we came back here, an' I 'm glad
you 've got suthin' in the pot, for we 're about as
empty as kettledrums."

" Humph 1" ejaculated Buck, "didn't I tell you
not to trouble Boarin' Bull-that he and his boys
could lick you if you had been twenty instead of
ten. But how came ye to hear o' this cock-and-
bull story about the Eedskins ? "

" We got it from Hunky Ben, an' he 'a not the
boy to go spreadin' false reports."

Charlie Brooke ventured at this point to open his
eye-lids the smallest possible bit, so that any one
looking at him would have failed to observe any
motion in them. The little slit, however, admitted
the whole scene to the retina, and he perceived that
ten of the most cut-throat-looking men conceivable

t
I

188

CHARLIE TO THE KESCUE : A TAL3

were seated in a semicircle in the act of receiving
portions from the big pot into tin plates. Most of
them were clothed in hunters' leathern costume,
wore long boots with spurs, and were more or less
bronzed and bearded.

Buck Tom, ab'as Ealph Eitson, although as tall
and strong as any of them, seemed a being of quite
angplic gentleness beside them. Yet Buck was
their acknowledged chief. No doubt it was due to
the superiority of mind over matter, for those out-
laws were grossly material and matter-of-fact!

" There must be some truth in the report if Hunky
Ben carried it," said Buck, looking up quickly, " but
I left Ben sitting quietly in David's store not many
hours ago."

"No doubt that's true, Captain," dsid Jake, as he
ladled the soap into his capacious mouth ; " never-
theless we met Hunky Ben on the pine-river prairie
scourin' over the turf like all possessed on Black
Polly. We stopped him of course an' asked the
news.'**

"'News!' cried he, 'why, the Eedskins have dug
up the hatchet an' riz like one man. They 've clar'd
out Yellow BluflF, an' are- pourin' like Niagara down
upon Eaaper's Creek. It's said that they'll visit
Eoarin' Bull's ranch to-morrow. No time for more
talk, boys. Oratin' ain't in my line. I'm off to
Quester Creek to rouse up the troops.' Wi' that
Hanky wheeled round an' went off like a runaway

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 189

Streak o' Jightnin'. I sent a coiiplo o' shots after
him. for I 'd took a fancy to Black Polly-but them
bullets didn't seem to hit somehow."

"Boys," cried Buck Tom, jumping up when he
heard this, "if Hunky Ben said all that, you may
depend on't it's true, an' we won't have to waste
time this night if we're to save the ranch of Boarin'

"But we don't want to save the ranch of Eoarin'
Bull, as far as I 'm consarned," said Jake rather
sulkily.

Buck wheeled round on the man with a fierce
glare, but, as if suddenly changing his mind, he said
m a tone of well-feigned surprise—" What ! ym,
Jake, of all men-such a noted lady-killer-
indifferent about the fate of the ranch of Eoaring
Bull, and pretty Miss Mary Jackson in it, at the
mercy of the Redskins!"

" Well, if it comes to that. Captain, I '11 ride as far
and as fast as any man to rescue a girl, pretty or
plain, from the Redskins," said Jake, recovering his
good-humour.

" Well, then, cram as much grub as you can into
you in five minutes, for we must be off by that time
Bise, sir," said Buck, shaking Charlie with some
violence. " We ride on a matter of life an' death-
to save women. Will you join us ? "

"Of course I will!" cried Charlie, starting up
with a degree of alacrity and vigour that favourably

»w«4

190

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

K'-

impressed the outlaws, and shaking off his simulated
sleep with wonderful facility.

"Follow me, then," cried Buck, hastening out of
the cave.

"But what of Shank?" asked Charlie, in some
anxiety, when they got outside. " He cannot accom-
pany us ; may we safely leave him behind ? "

" Quite safely. This place is not known to the
Ravages who are on the warpath, and there is no-
thing to tempt them this way even if it were.
Besides, Shank is well enough to get up and gather
firewood, kindle his fire, and boil the kettle for
himself. He is used to being left alone. See, here
is our stable under the cliff, and yonder stands your
horse. Saddle him. The boys will be at our heels
in a moment. Some of them are only too glad to
have a brush wi' the Kedskins, for they killed two
of our band lately."

This last remark raised an uncomfortable feeling
in the mind of Charlie, for was he not virtually
allying himself with a band of outlaws, with intent
to attack a band of Indians of whom he knew little
or nothing, and with whom he had no quarrel?
There was no time, however, to weigh the case
critically. The fact that savages were about to
attack the ranch in which his comrade Dick Darvall
was staying, and that there were females in the
place, was enough to settle the question. In a
minute or two he had saddled his horse, which he

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 191

led out and fastened to a tree, and while the outlaws
were busy making preparations for a start he ran
back to the cave.

" Shank," said he, sitting down beside his friend
and taking his hand, "you have heard the news.
My comrade Darvall is in great danger. I must
away to his rescue. But be sure, old fellow, that
I will return to you soon."

" Yes, yes— I know," returned Shank, with a look
of great anxiety; " but, Charlie, you don't know half
the danger you run. Don't fight with Buck Tom-
do you hear ? "

"Of course I won't," said Charlie, in some sur-
prise.

"No, no, that's not what I mean," said Shank,
with increasing anxiety. "Don't fight in company
with Mm."

At that moment the voice of the outlaw was
heard at the entrance shouting, « Come along, Brooke,
we 're all ready."

"Don't be anxious about me, Shank; I'll take
good care," said Charlie, as he hastily pressed the
hand of the invalid and hurried away.

The ten men with Buck at their head were already
mounted when he ran out.

^^ "Pardon me," he said, vaulting into the saddle,
" I was having a word with the sick man."

" Keep next to me, and close up," said Buck, as he
wheeled to the right and trotted away.

Hm^

192

CHARLIE TO THE IlESCUE : A TALE

Down the Traitor's Trap they went at what was
to Charlie a break-neck but satisfactory pace, for
now that he was fairly on the road a desperate
anxiety lest they should be too late took possession
of him. Across an open space they went, at the
bottom of which ran a brawling rivulet. There was
no bridge, but over or through it went the whole
band without the slightest check, and onward at full
gallop, for the country became more level and open
just beyond.

The moon was still shining although sinking
towards the horizon, and now for the first time
Charlie began to note with what a stern and reck-
less band of men he was riding, and a feeling of
something like exultation arose within him as he
thought on the one hand of the irresistible sweep of
an onslaught from such men, and, on the other, of
the cruelties that savages were known to practise.
In short, rushing to the rescue was naturally con-
genial to our hero.

About the same time that the outlaws were thus
hastening for once on an honourable mission —
though some of them went from anything but
honourable motives— two other bands of men were
converging to the same point as fast as they could
go. These were a company of United States troops,
guided by Hunky Ben, and a large band of Indians
Viader their warlike chief Bigfoot.
Jackson, alias Eoaring Bull, had once inadvertently

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 193

given offence to Bigfoot, and as that chief was both
by nature and profession an unforgiving man he had
vowed to have his revenge. Jackson treated the
threat lightly, but his pretty daughter Maiy was
not quite as indifferent about it as her father
The stories of Indian raids and frontier wars and
barbarous cruelties had made a deep impression
on her sensitive mind, and when her mother died
leavmg her the only woman at her father's ranch-
with the exception of one or two half-breed women
who could not be much to her as companions-her
life had been very lonely, and her spirit had been
subjected to frequent, though hitherto groundless,
alarms.

But pretty Moll, as she was generally called, was
well protected, for her father, besides having been a
noted pugilist in his youth, was a big, powerful man,
and an expert with rifle and revolver. Moreover
there was not a cow-boy within a hundred miles
ot her who would not (at least thought he would
not) have attacked single-handed the whole race of
Eedskins if Moll had ordered him to do so as a
proof of affection.

Now, when strapping, good-looking Dick Darvall
came to the ranch in the course of his travels and
beheld Mary Jackson, and received the first broad-
side from ht, .right blue eyes, he hauled down his
colours and surrendered with a celerity which would
Have mightily amused the many comrades to whom

194

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALK

he had said in days of yore that his heart was as
hard as rock, and he had never yet seen the woman
as could soften it !

But Dick, more than most of his calling, was a
modest, almost a bashful, man. He behaved to Mary
with the politeness that was natural to him, and
with which he would have approached any woman.
He did not make the slightest attempt to show his
admiration of her, though it is quite within the
bounds of possibility that his "speaking" brown
eyes may have said something without his permis-
sion I Mary Jackson, being also modest in a degree,
of course did not reveal the state of her feelings, and
made no visible attempt to ascertain his, but her bluff
sagacious old father was not obtuse — neither was he
reticent. He was a man of the world—at least of
the back- woods world — and his knowledge of life, as
there exhibited, was founded on somewhat acute
experience. He knew that his daughter was young
and remarkably pretty. He saw that Dick Darvall
was also young — a dashing and unusually handsome
sailor — something like what Tom Bowling may have
been. Putting these things together, he came to the
very natural conclusion that a wedding would be
desirable ; believing, as he did, that human nature in
the Eockies is very much the same as to its founda-
tion elements as it is elsewhere. Moreover, Eoaring
Bull was very much in want of a stout son-in-law at
fc**»w wiiiic, ou iic lauucu i/uu u-Auiki wiUcn ne rondly

OF THE SEA AND THE UOCKIBS. 190

Imped was beginning to arise. This he did in a
somswhat blundering and obvious manner, but
Dick was too much engrossed with Mary to notice
It, and Mary was too ignorant of the civilised world's
ways to care much for the proprieties of life

Of course this state of things created an awful
commotion iu the breasts of the cow-boys who were
.n he employment of Mary's father and herded his
cattle. Their mutual jealousies were sunk in the
supreme danger that threatened them all, and thev
were only restrained from picking a quarrel with
Dick and shooting him by the calmly resolute look
in his brown eyes, coupled with his great physical
power and his irresistible good-nature. Urbanity
seemed to have been the mould in which the spirit
of this man-of-the-sea had been cast, and gentleness
was one of his chief chawcteristics. Moreover
he could tell a good story, and sing a good song in
a fine bass voice. Still further, although these
gallant cow-boys felt intensely jealous of this new-
comer, they could not but admit that they had
nothing tangible to go upon, for the sailor did not
apparently pay any pointed attention to Mary and
she certainly gave no special encouragement to 'him
There was one cow-boy, however, of Irish descent
who could not or would not make up his mind to
take things quietly, but resolved, as far as he was

concerned, to bring matters t.n » h».d W-

was Pat Eeilly.

llMi.

196

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

He entered the kitchen on the day after Dick's
aiTival and found Mary alone and busily engaged
with the dinner.

"Miss Jackson," said Pat, "there's a question
I 've bin wantin' to ax ye for a long time past, an'
with your lave I '11 putt it now."

" What is it, Mr. lieilly ?" asked the girl somewhat
stiffly, for she had a suspicion of what was coming.
A little negro girl in the back kitchen named
Buttercup also had a suspicion of what was coming,
and stationed herself with intense delight behind
the door, through a crack in which she could both
hear and see.

"Mary, my dear," said Pat insinuatingly, "how
would you like to jump into double harness with
me an' jog along the path o' life together ? "

Poor Mary, being agitated by the proposal, and
much amused by the manner of it, bent over a pofc
of something and tried to hide her blushes and
amusement in the steam. Buttercup glared, grinned,
hugged herself, and waited for more.

Pat, erroneously supposing that silence meant
consent, slipped an arm round Mary's waist. No
man had ever yet dared to do such a thing to her.
The indignant girl suddenly wheeled round and
brought her pretty little palm down on the cow-
boy's cheek with all her might— and that was
considerable !

OF THE SEA AND XllE UOCKlEg. J 97

demanded Buttercup i„ « .erious tone, aa she
popped her woolly head through the doorway

"Nobody, me black darlin'," said Pat; "it 'a only
Miss Mary expressin" her failin's in a choekv
manner. That 'sail I"

So saying the rejected cow-boy luft the scene
of his discomfiture, mounted his mustang, took his
departure from the ranch of Eoarin' Bull without
saying farewell, and when next heard of had
crossed the lonely Guadalupe mountains into
Ivincoln County, New Mexico.

But to return. While the troops and the outlaws
were hastening thus to the rescue of the dwellers in
Bu Is ranch, and the blood-thirsty JRedskins were
making for the same point, bent on the destruction
01 all Its inhabitants. Roaring Bull himself, his
pretty daughter, and Dick Darvall, were seated in
the ranch enjoying their supper, all ignorant alike
of the movements of friend and foe, with Butter-
cup waiting on tliem.

One messenger, however, was speeding on his
way to warn them of danger. This was the cow-
boy Crux, who had been despatched on Bluefire by
Hunky Ben just before that sturdy scout had
started to call out the cavalry at Quester Creek

imv..

!98

CHARLIE lU rHK KEiOUl : A TALE

CHAPTER XVII.

l£ii<Uii

TUB ALARM AND PUKi'ARATIONS VOM DKrK?«CB.

'•Trom what you say I should think that my
friend Brooke won't have much trouble in findin*
Traitor's Trap," remarked Dick Darvall, pausing in
the disposal of a venison steak which had been
cooked by the fair hands of Mary Jackson herself,
" but I 'm sorely afraid o' the reception he '11 meet
with when he gets there, if the men are such awful
blackguards as you describe."

"They're the biggest hounds unhung," growled
Roaring Bull, bringing one hand down on the board
by way of emphasis, while with the other he held
out his plate for another steak.

" You 're too hard on some of them, father," said
Mary, in a voice the softness of which seemed ap-
propriate to the beauty of her face.

" Always the way wi' you wenches," observed the
father. "Some o' the villains are good-lookin',
others are ugly ; so, the first are not so bad as the
second — eh, lass ? "

Mary laughed. She was accustomed to her
taviiui a auiucwiia;/ ivugu uiib iiub iu-iiatuiea leouiis.

OF THK RBA AND THK UOCKIKB.

199

" Perhaps I may bo prejudiced, father/' she re-
turned; "but, apart from that, surely you would
never compare Buck Tom with Jake the Flint,
though they do belong to the same band."

"You are right, my lass." rejoined her father.
" They do say that Buck Tom is a gentleman, and
often keeps back his boys from devilry— though he
can't always manage that, an* no wonder, for Jake
the Flint is the cruellest monster 'tween this an'
Texas if all that 's said of him be true."

"I wish my comrade was well out o' their
clutches," said Dick, with a look of anxiety ; " an' it
makes me feel very small to be sittiu' here enjoyin'
myself when I might be ridin' on to help him if he
should need help."

"Don't worry yourself on that score," said the
host. "You couldn't find your way without a
guide though I was to give ye the best horse in my
stable— which I'd do slick off if it was of any use.
There 's not one o* my boys on the ranch just now,
but there '11 be four or five of 'em in to-morrow by
daylight, an' I promise you the first that comes in.
They all know the country for three hundred miles
around— every inch— an' you may ride my best
horse till you drop him if ye can. There, now.

wash down your victuals an* give us a yarn, or a
song."

•'I'm quite sure," added Mary, by way of en-
couragement, " that with one of the outlaws for an

200

CHARLIE TO THK RK8CUR ; A TALK

' 'i'

old frioiul, Mr. Brooke will ha quite aafo amonc
thorn "

*• Hut he '« not m outlaw, Miss Mary," br \io in
Darvall. " Leastwise wo have the l)08t reosor. for
believin' that he's dotained among them agoinst Iuh
will. Hows'ever, it's of no uso cryin' over spilt
milk. I 'm bound to lay at anchor in this port till
momin'. so, as I can't get up steam for a song in the
circumstances, hero goes for a yarn."

The yurn to which our handsome seaman treated
his audience was nothing more than an account of one
of his numerous experiences on the ocean, but ho
had such a pleasant, earnest, truth-like, and confi-
dential way of relating it, and, withal interlarded his
speech with ao many little touches of humour, that
the audience became fascinated and sat in open-eyed
forgotfulness of all else. Buttercup, in particular,
became so engrossed as to forget herself as well as
her duties, and stood behind her master in an ex-
pectant attitude, glaring at the story-teller, with
bated breath, profound sympathy, and extreme readi-
ness to appreciate every joke . .ioLhe>- good or bad.

In the midst of one of t' -. telling of his
anecdotes the speaker was suddenly arrested by the
quick tramp of a galloping horse, the rider of which,
judging from the sound, seemed to be in hot haste. '
All eyes were turned inquiringly on the master
of the ranch. That cool individual, rising with
quiet yet rapid action, reached down a magazine

.»

01^ TIIK BEA AUD TIIK K0CKIK8. fOl

OUorving this, I.iek Darvnll drew . rovolvor
from In, co«t.,K,ckot «„d followed hi. host to Z
outer door of tho hoi.M,. M. "

nn.l n„ff ""'■'' "ccompauiod them,

«".! Huttorcup retired to tho hack kitchen a, hoi„«
hor appropriate stronghold. ^

whl^Ill','" r ''""^'^ "'"^'""' ■'■"' """« "f ^•'' ^'"' door
yard jr h Crux tho cow-boy on hi, back.

Wall Uoaring l,.,,!," cried Crux, leaping off hia

"othmg tho matter. " I '„. giad to see you O K for

t. «ck, for your ranch. Hut as they Vo not got hero
ye .they won't likely attack till the moon go's down
's__U.ro any chuck goin'? I'm half starved."

Ay Crux, lots o' chuck hero. Come in an' let 'a
hear all about. Where got ye tho news ?"

at fir?". ^. ''? ''"' ""'• "" ^"'"'^ 'hinkin' o' you
at first but when a boy came in wi' the news that

to rouse ut"tr 1 '° ^"" ""' '"' <^-''- Creek
to rouse up tho cavalry-ho asked me to come on
here an' warn you."

«.!' tth r '?"";'"' "' ""'^■""^ '«' "o'^" '0

Uo the h . "? " '"''° "''° ""="»' business,
wnue the host and hia co,i«« . . . . . .'

flffa,. fi J /. ■■"""* ^"^■®'' "*^6ni; to look

after the defences of the place.

202

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" I 'm glad you are here, Dick Darvall," said the
foxmer, "for it's a bad job to be obliged to fight
without help agin a crowd o' yellin* Reds. My boys
won't be back ull sun-i p, an' by that time the game
may be played out."

"D'ee think the Redsi-.ius '11 attack us t3-night
then ? " asked the sailor as he assisted lo close the
gates of the yard.

" Ay, that they will, lad. They know the value
o' time better than most men, and, when they sec
their chance, are not slow to take advantage of it.
As Crux said, they won't attack while the moon
shines, so we have plenty of time to git ready for
them. I wish I hadn't sent off my boys, but as bad
luck would have it a bunch o' my steers have drifted
down south, an' I can't afford to lose them — so, you
see, there 's not a man left in the place but you an'
me an* Crux to defend poor Mary."

For the first time in his life Dick Darvall felt a
distinct tendency to rejoice over the fact that he
was a young and powerful man! To live and, if
need be, die for Mary was worth living for !

" Are you well supplied with arms an' ammuni-
tion ? " he asked.

" That am I, and we '11 need it all," answered the
host, as he led Dick round to the back of the yard
where another gate required fastening.

" I don't see that it matters much," said Dick in
a questioning tone, " whether you shut the gates or

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 203

not. With SO few to defend the place the house wUl
be our only chance."

"When you've fought as much wi' Eeds as I
have Dick, you'll larn that delay, even for five
minutes, counts for a good deal."

w1,T'"' *^'*'' """'*'"' '" *'^»'- I* -"Ms me
what one luy shipmates who had bin in the Lon-

itutt off w °°?' '"'• '''"'''' '"-^ '>«' '"«vei-
putt off what you've got to do. Sometimes I've

bm at a fire where the loss of only two minutes

caused the destruction of a store worth ten thou!

sand pound, more or less. We all but saved it as

It was-so near were we, that if we had bin one

fflnute sooner I do believe we'd have saved it.

But when we was makin' for that fire full saU.a

deaf old applewoman came athwart our bows an'

got such a fright that .,he went flop down right in

front of us. To steer clear of her we 'd got to sheer

offso that we all but ran into a big van:and, wh

ok fright and backed into us as we flew past, so
that we a'most went down by the starn. One C
or another we lost two minutes, as I 've said an'Z
owners o' that store lost ..out ten thous^'pou
—more or less.' " f"""u'>

" ^^^'7^« a b'g pile, Dick," observed the ranch-
man as they turned from the gate towards the lot.
not easv to rPT^ionp » *

"True-my shipmate never seemed to be quite

llPi. ^ ■ ■

'■ ■ ^-

I m

I: f

"Hill!

204

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUf: : A TALE

sure whether it was more or less that was lost, but
he thought the Insurance offices must have found
it out by that time. It 's a pity there 's only three
of us, for that will leave one side o' the house
undefended."

"All right, Dick; you don't trouble your head
about that, for Buttercup fights like a black tiger.
She 's a'most as good as a man — only she can't man-
age to aim, so it 's no use givin' her a rifle. She *s
game enough to fire it, but the more she tries to hit
the more she 's sure to miss. However, she 's got a
way of her own that sarves well enough to defend
her side o* the house. She always takes charge o'
the front. My Mary can't fight, but she 's a heroine
at loadin' — an* that 's somethin' when you 're hard
pressed ! Come, now, I '11 show ye the shootin' irons
an' our plan of campaign."

Eoaring Bull led the way back to the room, or
central hall, where they had supped, and here they
found that the debris of their feast had already been
cleared away, and that arms of various kinds, with
ammunition, covered the board.

" Hospitable alike to friend and foe," said Jackson
gaily. " Here, you see, Mary has spread supper for
theEeds!"

Darvall made no response to this pleasantry, for
he observed that poor Mary's pretty face was very
pale, and that it wore an expression of mingled
sadness and anxiety.

lost, but
vo found
nly three
he house

our head
Lck tiger,
m't man-
}. She's
es to hit
3*8 got a

defend
charge o'

1 heroine
.'re hard
bin' irons

room, or
lere they
ady been
ids, with

Jackson
ipper for

,ntry, for

mino'led

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 205

mckZTl "' ""^"^ '° "^"Ser, I hope." said
loudly discussing with Crux the merits of one of 2

" ^"> "° ' I' i» not that," returned the girl sadly

I am troubled to think that, however the fight 2'

me souls, perhaps many, will be sent T the"'

account unprepared. For myself, I shall be sal

enough as long as we are able to hold the ho

»d^.t may be that aod will send us help Ll:

"You may be quite sure," returned Dick with

ittft? ' "' "' '^''' "'^» h''^^ « 'P"* o'

A sweet though pitiful smile lighted up Marv',
pale face for a moment, as she replL thJsh^wa
quite sure of that, in a tone which caused Darva^

olTinitThTr '''' ''' ""^^'^ ™"w

contain i while he experienced a sensation of beinc
stronger than Samson and bigger than Goliath -"

And I suppose," continued Dick "t),«t n
troops won't be long of coming. Is fhrmanHat ':

h's name. Humpy Ben-trustworthy?"

"Trustworthy!" exclaimpri fi.^ -^
flush nf or^fT, • ^^^^'""^"^ *^6 niaiden, with a
nusn ot enthusiasm; "therp iq T»nf «

,, ' wicxtj IS not a morp fmaf

worthy man on this side oM^- P t

onhe other side eUhe::t:::L:^..—^'-'

i^^i

1 ■ 'y'MMi

20G

CITAULIK ro THE RESCUE : A TALE

t'.f ^

II'

!!ii

II I'

Poor Darvall's heart seemed suddenly to find
plenty of room within the ribs at that moment, and
his truthful visage must have become something of
an index to his state of mind, for, to his surprise,
Mary laughed.

"It seems to me so funny," she continued, "to
hear any one ask if Hunky— not Humpy—Ben is
to be trusted."

"Is he, then, such a splendid young fellow 1"
asked the seaman, with just the slightest touch of
bitterness in his tone, for he felt as if a rock some-
thing like Gibraltar had been laid on his heart.

" Well, he 's not exactly young," answered Mary,
with a peculiar expression that made her questioner
feel still more uncomfortable, "yet he is scarcely
middle-aged, but he certainly is the most splendid
fellow on the frontier ; and he saved my life once."
" Indeed ! how was that ? "
"Well, it was this way. I had been paying a
short visit to his wife, who lives on the other side

of the "

"Come along, Darvall," cried Eoaring Bull at
that moment. " The moon 's about down, an' we '11
have to take our stations. We shall defend the
outworks first, to check them a bit and put off some
time, then scurry into the house and be ready for
them when they try to clear the fence. Follow me.
Out wi' the lights, girls, and away to your posts."
"I'll hear the end of your story another time,

to find
iient, and
ething of
surprise,

ued, "to
—Ben is

fellow 1 "
touch of
ck some-
sart.

3d Mary,
lestioner
scarcely
splendid
3 once."

OF THE SEA AND THE ROOKIES. 207

and following his host and Crux to the outer door

th^fM '"'""'' """' '°°''^'"' '^ ^ f^i^t suspicion
that RIary was wrestling with another lau.h as he

went ff to defend the outworks, but he alsorhap^ily

jaying a
her side

Bull at
m' we '11
end the
off some
eady for
How me.
osts."
er time,

208

CHARLIE TO TIIK UKSCUE : A TALK

CHAPTEE XVIir.

DEFENCE OP THE RANCH OP EOARINQ BULL.

Every light and every spark of fire had been
extinguished in the rancli of Eoaring Bull when its
defenders issued from its doorway. They were
armed to the teeth, and glided across the yard to
the fence or stockade that enclosed the buildings,
leaving the door slightly open so as to be ready for
speedy retreat.

It had been arranged that, as there was a large open
field without bush or tree in the rear of the ranch,
they should leave that side undefended at first.

"They'll never come into the open as long as
they can crawl up through the bush," Jackson had
said, while making his final dispositions. " They *re
a'most sure to come up in front, thinkin' we 're all
a-bed. Now, mind— don't stand still, boys, but
walk along as ye fire, to give *em the notion there 's
more of us. An' don't fire at nothin'. They 'd think
we was in a funk. An' when you hear me whistle
get into the house as quick as a cotton-tail rabbit
an' as sly as a snake."

After the moon went down, everything in and

OF THE SEA AND THE liOCKIES. 200

around tl.o much was as silent as the sravc save
nowa,.ju,o„thostan>pofa.,oolonthffl:„;r

bndled ready to mount at a moment's notice- for
Jackson had made up his mind, if it came to' tl"
worst to mount and make a bold dash with all
househ^d through the midst of his foes, trusting
akmg them by surprise and to his knowledge of
the country for success. ''

For a long time, probably two hours, the three
men stood at their posts motionless ^nd sile^;
3 III there was no sign, either by sight or sound
of an enemy. The outline of the dark woods was
barely visible against the black sky in front of each
sohtary watcher, and no moving thing could be
d.stmguished m the open field behind either by
Crux or Darvall, to each of whom the field was
visible. Jackson guarded the front

To Dick, unaccustomed as he was to such war-
are, the situation was very trying, and might have
told on his nerves severely if he had not been a
man of iron mould ; as it was. he had no nerves to
speak ! But he was a man of lively imagini o„
More than fifty times within those two hours did

lav Z ' . ""^ "'"^"^ '" *« ''-■««^^ that
ay between him and the wood, and more than fifty

Umes was his Winchester rifle raise, to his shoulde?^

but as often did ^^'

nse to his memory

tae caution "don't fire at noth

> M

IMK(.'

^■.«SE.-

210

CHAIILIK TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

III!

h « <

Tlie Btockudo was of peculiar construction, because
its owner and maker was eccentric and a mechanical
genius. Not only were the pickets of which it was
composed very strong and planted with just space
between to permit of firing, but there was a plankin
of strong boards, waist high, all round the bottom
inside, which afforded some protection to defenders
by concealing them when they stooped and changed
position.

While matters were in this state outside, Mary
Jackson and Buttercup were standing at an upper
window just opposite the front gate, the latter with
a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss of the last century,
loaded with buckshot in her hands. Mary stood
beside her sable domestic ready to direct her not
as to how, but where and when, to use the ancient
weapon.

" You must be very careful, Buttercup," said Mary
in a low voice, " not to fire till I tell you, and to
point only where I tell you, else you '11 shoot father.
And do keep your finger off the trigger ! By-the-
way, have you cocked it ? "

"0 missy, I forgit dat," answered the damsel
with a self-condemned look, as she corrected the error.
" But, don' you fear, Missy Mary. I 's use' to dis yar
blunn'erbus. Last time I fire 'im was at a raven.
Down goed de raven, blow'd to atims, an' down goed
me too— cause de drefful t'ing kicks like a Texas mule.
But bress you, I don' mind dat. 1 's used to it ! "

311

0" TIIK SEA AND THE HOCKIES.

Buttercup gave a little suiff „f grave ecoru with

«ma.y ,ll3 of hfe were beneath her notice.

We have aaid that all iirea had been extinguished
but this ,s not strictly correct, for in the r„l
-here the two .aidens watched the e was an rZ

nr^etrt'^^r'-'^''^''^^-^''"--

sparks to betray its presence. On this tl,.-
3 J.od a r ,^,.^^^ ^^ ^^^j ^^ n this h^

found K.r "" °"'^ '""'"^ """ broke the p^
found stulness of the night, while the watchel
se^ee y reathed, so intently did they listen

a daritb t?""'"' "'" «««-restraining Dick saw
a dark object moving towards his side of the
stockade, which he felt was much too real o be
classed with the creatures of his imagination which
had previously given him so much trouble. Wilb ^^
a moment's hesitation the rifle flew to his 3^0^
and the prolonged sUence was broken by the sha n
-port, while an involuntary half-suppLs d c !
proved that he had not missed his mark TheZl
object hastily retreated. A neighbouring cliffecho d

the sailor that they also were on the alert.
Instantly the night was rendered hideous bv a

trii:'^f^!--^-P-^«.^oraTomtt:

™^— 6«vu yiacQ to a glare of licrht as «

1-ndred rifles vomited their deadl, contend, and

•■i ^*

iti

e,?-

€

212

CHARMK TO TIIK UEHCUK : A TALK

the sound of many rushing foct was heard upon the
open sward in front of the ranch.

The three male defenders had ducked their heads
below the protecting breast-work when the volley
was fired, and then, discarding all idea of further
care, they skipped along their respective lines,
yelling and firing the repeaters so rapidly, that, to
any one ignorant of the true state of things, it nmst
have seemed as if the place were defended by a
legion of demons. To add to the hullabaloo Butter-
cup's blunderbuss poured forth its contents upon
a group of red warriors who were rushing towards
the front gate, with such a cannon-like sound and
such wonderful effect, that the rush was turned
into a sudden and limping retreat. The effect,
indeed, was more severe even than Buttercup had
intended, for a stray buckshot had actually taken
a direction which had been feared, and grazed her
master's left arm! Happily the wound was very
slight, and, to do the poor damsel justice, she could
not see that her master was jumping from one
place to another like a caged lion. Like the same
animal, however, he gave her to understand what
she had done, by shouting in a thunderous bass roar
that fully justified his sobriquet —

"Mind your eye, Buttercup! Not so low next
time ! "

The immediate result of this vigorous defence
was to make the Indians draw off and retire to the

OF THT: Hf.K AND THE ROCKIER. 213

woods—presumably for consultatiou. By previous
arrangement the negro girl issued from t)io house
with three fresh repeaters in her arms, ran round to
the combatants with them and returned with their
almost empty rifles. These she and Mary proceeded
to reload in the hall, and then returned to their post
at the upper front window.

The morning was by this time pretty well ad-
vanced, and Jackson felt a little uncertain as to
what he should now do. It was still rather dark ;
but in a very short time, he knew, dawn would
spread over the east, when it would, of course, be
quite impossible to defend the walls of the little
fort without revealing the small number of its
defenders. On the other hand, if tliey should
retire at once the enemy miglit find a lodge-
ment within, among the outbuildings, before there
was liglit enough to prevent them by picking off
the leaders ; in which case the assailants would be
able to apply fire to the wooden walls of the house
without much risk.

"If they manage to pile up enough o' brush to
clap a light to," he grumbled to himself in an under
tone, "it 'sail up wi' us."

The thought had barely passed through his brain,
when a leaden messenger, intended to pass through'
it, carried his cap off his head, and the fire that
had discharged it almost blinded him. Bigfoot, the
chief of tjie savages, had wriggled himself, snake-

••**' l»

f 1

ClfAHUr. TO TIIK RRSCUK : A TAU

fftflhion, up to the stockado unseen, ami wliilo
Konring IJull wjm meditating what wns boat to bo
done, ho had nearly succeeded in rendering him
unnble to do anything at all.

The shot was tho signal for another onslaught.
Once more tho woods rang with fiendish yells and
rattling volleys. Bigfoot, with tho agility and
strength of a gorilla, leaped up and over tho stockado
and sprung down into Jackson's arms, while Darvall
and Crux resumed their almost ubiquitous process
of defence, and Ihittorcup's weapon again thundered
forth its defiance.

This time the fight was more protracted. Big-
foot's career was indeed stopped for the time being,
for Jackson not only crushed the life almost out
of him by au unloving embrace, but dealt him a
prize-fighter's blow which efllectually stretched him
on the ground. Not a moment too soon, however,
for the white man had barely got rid of the red
one, when another savage managed to scale the wall.
A blow from the butt of Jackson's rifle dropped him,
and then the victor fired so rapidly, and with such
eftect, that a second time the Eeds were repulsed.

Jackson did not again indulge in meditation,
but blew a shrill blast on a dog-whistle— a precon-
certed signal— on hearing which his two comrades
made for the house door at full speed.
Only one other of the Indians, besides the two

alreadv mpnf.i'nno*! haA a\^f^r>aaAaA in «/^*■^.: 4.1.-

Jill

Of THF SKA AND THR ROCKIKS. 215

stockndo. This man wa« creeping up to the open
door of the house, and, tomahawk in hand, had al-
most reached it when Dick Darvall came tearing
round the corner.
" Hallo I Crux," cried Dick, •• that you ? "
The fact that ho received no reply was sufficiont
for Dick, who was too close to do more than drive
the point of his rifle against the chest of the In-
dian, who went down as if ho had been shot, while
Dick sprang in and held open the door. A word
from Jackson and Crux as they ran forward suUiced.
They passed in and the massive door was shut and
barred, whilo an instant later at least half-a-dozen
savages ran up against it and began to thunder on it
with their rifle-butts and tomahawks.

"To your windows I" shouted Jackson, as he
sprang up the wooden stair-case, three steps at a
time. " Fresh rifles here, Mary I "

" Yes, father," came in a silvery and most unwar-
like voice from the hall below.

Another moment and three shots rang from the
three sides of the house, and of the three Indians
who were at the moment in the act of clambering
over the stockade, one fell inside and two out.
Happily, daylight soon began to make objects dis-
tinctly visible, and the Indians were well aware that
it would now be almost certain death to any one
who should attempt to climb over.
It is well known that, as a rule, savages do not

»wn.

216

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

P »'"3

throw away their lives recklessly. The moment it
became evident that darkness would no longer serve
them, those who were in the open retired to the
woods, and potted at the windows of the ranch, but,
as the openings from which the besieged fired were
mere loop-holes made for the purpose of defence, they
had little hope of hitting them at long range except
by chance. Those of the besiegers who happened to
be near the stockade took shelter behind the breast-
work, and awaited further orders from their chief
—ignorant of the fact that he had already fallen.

Fropa the loop-holes of the room which Jackson
had selected to defend, the shed with the saddled
horses was visible, so that no one could reach it
without coming under the fire of his deadly weapon.
There was also a window in this room opening upon
the back of the house and commanding the field
which we have before mentioned as being unde-
fended while the battle was waged outside. By
casting a glance now and then through this window
he could see any foe who might show himself in
that direction. The only part of the fort that seemed
exposed to great danger now was the front door,
where the half-dozen savages, with a few others who
had joined them, were still battering away at the
impregnable door.

Dick, who held the garret above, could not see the
door, of course, nor could he by any manoeuvre
manage to bring his rifle to bear on it from his

lent it
r serve
to the
li, but,
1 were
3, they
jxcept
tied to
Teast-

chief
3n.

ckson
ddled
.ch it
lapon.
upon

field
inde-

Qdow
ilf in
emed
door,
I who
t the

ethe
luvre
L his

N»

Sf-

I .^'

iiii

■li!

" NOW, BUTTERCUP, GIVE IT 'EM-HOT. "-PaRP, 217.

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 217

loop-hole, and he dared not leave his post lest more
In^ans should manage to scale the front stockade

Buttercup, in the room below, had indeed a bet-
ter chance at her window, but she was too inexpert
in warfare to point the blunderbuss straight down
and fire with effect, especially knowing, as she did,
that he sight of her arm in the act would be the
signal for a prompt fusillade. But the girl was not
apparently much concerned about that or anything
else. The truth is that she possessed in an eminent
and enviable degree the spirit of entire trust in a
leader. She was under orders, and awaited the
word of command with perfect equanimity ! She
even smiled slightly-if such a mouth could be said
do anything slightly-when Mary left her to take
■TCsh rifles to the defenders overhead.

At last the command came from the upper re-
gions, in tones that caused the very savages to
pause a moment and look at each other in surprise.
1 hey did not pause long, however!

"Now, Buttercup," thundered Bearing Bull, "give
It 'em— hot!" °

At the word the girl calmly laid aside her weapon,
ifted the big iron pot with familiar and business-
like facility, and emptied it over the window

The result is more easily imagined than described.
A yell that must have been heard mUes off was the
prelude to a stampede of the most ]iv«lv „,t„,e
It was intensified, if possible, by the further acton

<Ci

'■»;«.. SI

218

(JHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

of the negress, who, seizing the blunderbuss, pointed
it at the flying crowd, and, shutting both eyes, fired !
Not a buckshot took effect on the savages, for But-
tercup, if we may say so, aimed too low, but the
effect was more stupendous than if the aim had
been good, for the heavy charge drove up an inde-
scribable amount of peppery dust and small stones
into the rear of the flying foe, causing another yell
which was not an echo but a magnified reverberation
01 the first. Thus Buttercup had the satisfaction of
utterly routing her foes without killing a single man !

DAylight had fairly set in by that time, and the
few savages who had not succeeded in vaulting the
stockade had concealed themselves behind the
various outhouses.

The proprietor of the ranch began now to have
some hope of keeping the Indians at bay until the
troops should succour him. He even left his post
and called his friends to a council of war, when a
wild cheer was heard in the woods. It was followed
by the sound of firing. No sooner was this heard
than the savages concealed outside of the breastwork
rose as one man and ran for the woods.

" It *s the troops ! " exclaimed Dick hopefully.

" Troopers never cheer like that," returned Jackson
with an anxious look. " It 's more like my poor
cow-boys, and, if so, they will have no chance wi'
such a crowd o' Reds. We must ride to help them,
an' you'll have to ride with us, Mary. We

II ,

daren't leave

OP THR SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

219

f',

varmints

you behind, la
skulkin' around."

"I'm ready, father," said Mary with a ^.n'A a

go wuh -ee wi- my repeater to keepT„ eton tl
hidden reptiles, so that if one of thl I
much as the tip of his ugly Ce tuZ "'

remember it v„„ -n "*^* "^^se to

emember it. You will go to my loophole Cru- «t,'

understand?" Crux nodded « "°»e°— You

Middle Of the fort't'fard' ^Z' Zf't'''

je- and the'g::i^rZp:::r :n

Man who raised it fell woundein th;gl:;''

Well done, Crux!" he exclaimed at f^!
moment firing his own rifle at hSd wUcV"""'
Peepmg round a corner. The head van"^ T

:Se:ror ''-'-' ""■ ----""

"Come round wi' me or.' ^h— -^
cried Jackson A, \C "" " "' ""^ "^^i^^^^^s out,"
<iackson. At the same time he uttered a roar

S&'

»^r

i!S*-'«"

220

CIIARLIK TO THE UESCUE : A TALE

that a bull might have envied, and they both rushed
round to the back of the outhouses where three
Indians were found skulking.

At the sudden and unexpected onslaught, they
fired an ineffectual volley and fled wildly through
the now ope < followed by several shots from

both pursuers, ,. uose aiui, however, was no better
than their own had been.

Meanwhile Crux and the girls, having reached the
shed according to orders, mounted their respective
steeds and awaited their comrades. They had not
long to wait. Jackson and Dick came round the
corner of the shed at full speed, and, without a
word, leaped simultaneously into their saddles.

"Keep close to me, girls,— close up!" was all
that Jackson said as he dashed spurs into his horse,
and, sweeping across the yard and through the gate,
made straight for that part of the woods where
yells, shouts, and firing told that a battle was
raging furiously.

11
'■"iiiii

OF TIIK SEA AND THE KOCKIES.

221

CHAl'TfiU XIX.

Tin BlKiculi i»D ITS COHSBQUKNCE*

The ground in the neighbourhood of the ranch
favoured the operations of an attacking party for
I was so irregular and so cumbered with knolls'and
clumps of trees that the defenders of the post
scarce dared to make a sally, lest their retreat
should be cut off by a detached party of assailants.

Hence Jackson would never have dreamed of
quitting his house, or ceasing to act on the defen-
sive had he not been under the natural impression
that It was his own returning cow-boys who had
been attacked and out-numbered by the Indians.
Great therefore, was hi surprise when, on rounding
a b uiTand coming into view of the battle-field, the
party engaged with the Indians, though evidently
white men, were neither his own men nor those of
the u. S. troops.

He had just made the discovery, when a band of
about fifty warriors burst from the woods and
rushed upon him.

" Back to back, boys ! drLs. IrflPr, oU„^ i •> „!,..,..,,
Jackson, as he fired two shots and dropped two

*lt f

lir

223

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

Indians. He pulled at a third, but there was no
answering report, for the magazine of his repeater
was empty.

Crux and Darvall turned their backs towards
him and thus formed a sort of triangle, in the midst
of which were the two girls. But this arrangement,
which might have enabled them to hold out for
some time, was rendered almost abortive by the
ammunition having been exhausted.

" So much for bein' in too great a hurry ! " growled
Jackson between his clenched teeth, as he clubbed
his rifle and made a savage blow at the Indian who
first came close to him. It was evident that the
Indians were afraid to fire lest they should wound
or kill the women; or, perhaps, understanding
how matters stood, they wished to capture the white
men alive, for, instead of firing at them, they circled
swiftly round, endeavouring to distract their atten-
tion so as to rush in on them.

Bigfoot, who had recovered from his blow and
escaped from the ranch, made a sudden dash at
Dick when he thought him off his guard, but Dick
was not easily caught off his guard in a fight.
While in the act of making a furious demonstration
at an Indian in front, which kept that savage off,
he gave Bigfoot a " back-handed vvipe," as he called
it, which tumbled the chief completely off his horse.
Just then a turn of affairs in favour of the whites

mil 1,1 '

».i

l!l|,;i,

Wao ba&iiig piuuu vu tiiu uii&iie-nelu oeyona. me

iliiji

Mil' I

O" TllK SEA AND TUK ttoCKIM.

party there had attaclcH ti,«

^--.who.Ltu„e3:vr:xrthtr

"All' Buck Tom!" roawH T„ i
luent. ^ "''"'''^''" "» amaze-

So sudden was the onset fl,«f n t ,.
for a moment paralysed atdh .."''"""' """
-« right and Lt Tt W 'oi u^d IT'"' ''"
i"to the very miUst of Z ^Z t ''™«''
t 'oy were alongside of their frS ^hfr^ T"""'"'
to outlaw band were alread; e'red 'l "■f/"' °^
skirts of the crowd. «°gaged on the out-

Tte very danger of the white men constit„f»H .
some extent their safety for ,, ^° ""''"'""'ed to

"umbered and surrounded' that ItZ T' '" °"'-
-i-o^elesttherruld^ltt^tt^^^^^^^^

^^eSytperdtV"'^^' ''''' ° ^ ^"^'^

"Keds"^i?ralH :i7lh"' '""'^'' ''"
little band of cow-boys ThTvnK """ ^''^'°''''
but the suddennesTof Sr? "'""'^^'S'"^
toher to distract the savage! ''"""" '^'^'^^^^
While the noise was at its },«;„Kt

-.sensation, of many feet beati^lh::;;:;::

.*.'■

fii
111

224

CirARLlK TO THE UESCUK : A TALK

felt. Next moment a compact line was seen to
wheel round the blulT where the fight was going on,
and a stentorian " Charge ! " was uttered, as the
United States cavalry, preceded by Hunky Ben,
bore down with irresistible impetuosity on the foe.

But the Indians did not await this onset. They
turned and llud, scattering as they went, and the
fight was quickly turned into a total rout and hot
pursuit, in which troopers, outlaws, travellers, ranch-
men, scouts, and cow-boys joined. The cavalry,
however, had ridden far and fast, so that the wiry
little mustangs of the plains soon left them behind,
and the bugle ere long recalled them all.

It was found on the assembling of the forces that
not one of the outlaws had returned. Whethei
they were bent on wreaking their vengeance still
more fully on their foes, or had good reason for
wishing to avoid a meeting with the troops, was
uncertain ; but it was shrewdly suspected that the
latter was the true reason.

"But you led the charge with Buck Tom, sir,"
said »Tackson to Charlie, in considerable surprise,
"though how you came to be in his company is
more than I can understand."

" Here 's somebody that can explain, may-be,"
said one of the cow-boys, leading forward a wounded
man whose face was covered with blood, while he
limped as if hurt in the legs. " I found him tryin'
to crawl into the brush. D 'ye know him, boys ? "

I'l!''

i;i '!i

OF THE SEA AND TUB B0CKIE8. 225

"Why, it's Jako tho Flint f" «voi«- i
voice, 3J«„Uaneou3„; ^^L^tTSZ
wa laid on a revolver, as if to inflT.^
l'"..i»l.inor.t. ' M .t to infltct summary

"I claim this man aa mv nriannn," ..m ii
".andor of the troops, with ':;' ,00^1:.""'
vented any attempt at violence "' P'''

about it too •• ^'" " f '^<=^°'"' '<"■« 'i^e

to;ht:::„s::'"'^"'"'''«--''»'-«"i"«norep,y

Two troopers dismounted, and with a piece of
rope began to tie the outlaw's hands behindh" '
I arrest you also," said the commander to
Charhe, wo suddenly found a trooper on each sid

-SsefirLrSir'^^^''^"'--^-'-'^
-.. outiai about!: rriTrs'd

J-«ng in iight with a notorious band ZnZ
^•-bsurdityofhia-positio7;::di:Xrh^

«»

l«t

326

OMAIIMK TO TIIR RKSCUE: A TALK

and ho Rubmittcd, well knowing that his innoconce
would bo established immediately.

" Is not this man ono of your band, .Take ?" asked
the ofliccr tpiiotly,

" Yes, he is," replied the man with a malevolent
grin. " Ho 's not long joined. This is his first
Bcrimmago with us."

Charlie was so thunderstruck at this speech that
ho was led back to tho ranch in a sort of dazed
condition. As for Dick Darvall, ho was rendered
speechless, and felt disposed to regard tho whole
thing as a sort of dream, for his attempted explana-
tions wero totally disregarded.

Arrived at tho house, Charlie and Jake were
locked up in separate rooms, and sentries placed
beneath their windows — this in addition to tho
security of haud-cufTs and roped arras. Then break-
fast was prepared for the entire company, and those
who had been wounded in tho fight wore attended
to by Hunky Ben — a self-taught surgeon — with
Mary and Buttercup to act as dressers.

"I say, Jackson," observed Darvall, when the
worthy ranch-man found leisure to attend to him,
" of course you know that this is all nonsense — an
abominabl'^ lie about my friend Brooke being an
outlaw?"

" Of course I do, Dick/' said Jackson, in a tone of
sympathy ; " an' you may be cock-sure I '11 do what

T J. 1- -1- >-•

.: uuu i/U iiuip iui.

■n.-i. u - »n 1 i- i-i -„i*

10G0n09

" askca

ovolont
lis first

ch that
f (lazod
jndered
J whole
xplana-

[e were

placed
to the
1 break-
id those
.ttended
1 — with

len the
to him,
Qse — an
eing an

, tone of
do what

i.i 1*

OF Till SKA AND III* HOCKIM. 827

a truo rn„n an- th.re are «,mo ...yatorio, about him

tl.«t It PU..IO, „,o to think how h« 11 eloa, 'cm up"

•• Mysteries fochocl Dick. ^^

•' Ay my^erie,. I Vo had ,omo talk wi' Ilunky

Ben, an l.o a aa much pu«l„d a, myaCf. jf J,

"Well, then, I ',„ pu,,,^.j

yo,"«,tur„cU Dick, "for ,„y «„„„ „„., „,'';;

oaman-al. atn.i«ht a..' abovehoarU-aa ov^r
mot with on aen or laml."

abZT '""^ ^ ^^' ^"^ "'=" ■» ««»« "y-tery

aoout hini, soinuhow." j'^^^y

;;"myo explain what the mystery ia, Jackaont"
Well, l„s ,a what Hunky Hen aaya. He a«w

C ;r ''"' "" f'" °"'^' '"«•" »■«- to Traitor"
imp following ,n the footsteps o" that notorioua out-
law liuck Tom. Feelin' sure that Buck meant tc

overshot h.m to a place whore ho thought it likely
th outlaw would lay in wait. Sure enough, when he
got here he found Buck aquattin' behind a big rck

dXlTr^""''^'"'- ^"■^^'-'•^'re think

wolf '""'" '"' ''"'' ^^"•' " -^ °f -^-n

"Why, when Buck stepped out an' bid him thnw
up hia hands, your friend merely lonk.H ,. n?l
ana aaid aomethin' that Hunky 'could;^ hJar;:;

P Hi

IE.

>«)

'f .

AnOa^-.i-f. -; t

228

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

'J«i|j|i;

then Buck dropped his pistol, an' your friend got off
his horse and they shook hands and went off as
thick as thieves together. An' now, as you 've seen
an' heard, your friend turns up headin' a charge of
the outlaws— an' a most notable charge it was—
alongside o' Buck Tom. Jake the Flint too claims
him for a comrade. Pretty mysterious all that,

ain't it ? "

" May I ask," said Dick, with some scorn in his
tone, " who is this Hunky Ben, that his word should
be considered as good as a bank-note ? "

" He 's the greatest scout an' the best an' truest
man on the frontier," replied Jackson.

" H'm ! so Miss Mary seems to think too."

" An' Mary thinks right."

"An' who may this Jake the Flint be?" asked

the sailor.

" The greatest scoundrel, cattle and horse stealer,
and cut-throat on the frontier."

"So then," rejoined Dick, with some bitterness,
"it would seem that my friend and mate is taken up
for an outlaw on the word o' the two greatest men
on the frontier ! "

"It looks like it, Dick, coupled, of course, wi'
your friend's own actions. But never you fear,
man. There must be a mistake o' some sort, some-
where, an* it's sure to come out, for I'd as soon
believe my Mary to be an outlaw as your friend-
though I never set eyes on him before the other day.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

22D

The fact is, Dick, that I 've learned physiognoiny
since " ^ J

" Fizzi-what-umy ? " interrupted .Dick.

"Physiognomy-the study o' faces-since I came
to live on the frontier, an' I 'm pretty sure to know
an honest man from a rogue as soon as I see him
an' hear him speak-though I can't always prove
myself right." ^ ^

While Dick and his host were thus conversin-
and the soldiers were regaling themselves in the halT
the commander of the troops and Hunky Ben were'
engaged in earnest conversation with Charlie
Brooke, who gave an account of himself that quite
cleared up the mystery of his meeting, and after-
wards being found associated with, the outlaws.

"It's a queer story," said Hunky Ben, who
besides being what his friends called a philosopher!
was prone at times to moralise. "It's a queer
story, an' shows that a man shouldn't bounce at a
conclusion till he's larned all the ins an' outs of a
matter."

" Of course, Mr. Brooke," said the officer, when
Dick had finished his narration, "your companion
knows all this and can corroborate what you have
said ? "

'':t^ot aU," replied Charlie. "He is an old ship-
mate whom I picked up on arriving at New York,
and only knows that I am in search of an old
school-fellow who has given way to dissipation and

■«w-

" »■"

'..<«■

-f

■ t*

.,11

i)l

«i

■f

^
t

01*

230

cmahlie to the rescue : a talk

i! i^iil

got into trouble here. Of my private and family
affairs he knows nothing."

"Well, you have cleared yourself, Mr. Brooke,"
continued the Captain, whose name was Wilmot,
" but I 'm sorry to have to add that you have not
cleared the character of your friend Leather, whose
name has for a considerable time been associated

' the notorious band led by your old school-
fellow Kitson, who is known in this part of the
country as Buck Tom. One of the worst of this
gang of highwaymen, Jake the Flint, has, as you
know, fallen into my hands, and will soon receive
his deserts as a black-hearted murderer. I have
recently obtained trustworthy information as to the
whereabouts of the gang, and I am sorry to say
that I shall have to ask you to guide me to their
den in Traitor's Trap."

" Is it my duty to do this ? " asked Charlie, with
a troubled look at the officer.

" It is the duty of every honest man to facilitate
the bringing of criminals to justice."

" But I have strong reason for believing that my
friend Leather, although reckless and dissipated,
joined these men unwillingly — was forced to do it
in fact — and has been suffering from the result of a
severe injury ever since joining, so that he has not
assisted them at all in their nefarious work. Then,
as to Kitson, I am convinced that he repents of his
course of conduct. Indeed, I know that his men

OPTHK SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 231

have been rebellious of late, and this very Jake has
been aspiring to the leadership of the gang."

"Your feelings regarding these men may be
natural," returned the captain, "but my duty is to
wse you in this matter. Believing what you say of
yourself I will treat you as a gentleman, but if you
decline to guide me to the nest of this gang I must
treat you still as a prisoner."

"May I have a little time to think over the
matter before answering ? "

"So that you may have a chance of escaping
me?" replied the Captain.

"Nothing was further from my thoughts," said
Charlie, with a flush of indignation.

"I believe you, Mr. Brooke," rejoined the Captain
with gravity. " Let me know any time before twelve
to-day what course you deem it right to take. By
noon I shall sound boot and saddle, when you will
be ready to start. Your nautical friend here may
jom us if he chooses."

Now, while this investigation into the affairs of
one prisoner was going on, the other prisoner, Jake
was busily employed investigating his own affairs
with a view to escape.

How he fared in this investigation we reserve
for another chapter.

' *>' i»tm

I^..-.A-

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232

CUABLIB TO THE KESCUlS : A TALE

CHAPTER XX.

JAKE THE FLINT IN DIPi"I0ULTIB8.

The man who, at the time we write of, was
known by the name of Jake the Flint had acquired
the character of the most daring and cruel scoundrel
in a region where villains were by no means rare.
His exploits indicated a spirit that was utterly
reckless of life, whether his own or that of his fellow-
men, and many were the trapperd, hunters, and
Redskins who would have given a good deal and
gone far to have the chance of putting a bullet in
his carcass.

But, as is not unfrequently the case with such
men, Jake seemed to bear a charmed life, and when
knife, bullet, and rope, cut short the career of many
less guilty men, Jake had hitherto managed to elude
his captors — at one time by strategy, at another by
a bold dash for life, and sometimes by " luck." No
one had a kind word for Jake, no one loved, though
many feared, admired, and hated him. This may
seem strange, for it is usually found that even in the
case of the most noted outlaws there is a woman or
a man, or both — who cling to them with affection.

OF THE SEA AND IBB EOCKIES. 233

Perhaps the fact that Jake was exceptionally harsh
and cruel at all times, may account for this, as it
accounted for his sobriquet of Flint. He was called
by some of those who knew him a " God-forsaken
man. We merely state the fact, but are very far
from adopting the expression, for it ill becomes any
man of mortal mould to pronounce his fellow-nan
uod-forsaken.

In the meantime we feel it to be no breach of
•Chan y to say that Jake had forsaken God, for his
foul language and bloody deeds proved the fact
beyond all question. He was deceitful as well as
cruel, and those who knew him best felt sure that his
aoing under Buck Tom was a mere ruse. There is
I.t tie doubt that he had done so for the purpose of
obtammg an influence over a gang of despeLoes,
ready to hand, as it were, and that the moment he
saw his opportunity he would kill Buck Tom and take
command. The only thing that had kept him from
doing so sooner, it was thought, was the fact that
Jiuok had the power to gain the affection of his
men, as well as to cause them to fear him, so that
Jake had not yet found the time ripe for action.

After the outlaw had been put into the room by
himself, as already stated, the door locked, and a
sentry posted below the window, he immediately
turned with all his energy to examme into his cir-
cumstances and prospects. Jjirst of all his wrists
were manacled. That, however, gave him little

jtMpi ^9K ~

234

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

* ' I

concern, for his hands were unusually small and
delicate, and he knew from experience that he could
slip them out of any handcuffs that would close
easily on his wrists — a fact that he had carefully
concealed, and of which men were not yet aware,
as he had not yet been under the necessity of
availing himself of the circumstance.

The rope with which he had been bound on the
way to the ranch had been removed, the handcuffs
being deemed sufficient. As the window of his •
prison was over thirty feet from the ground, and
a sentinel with a carbine and revolver stood below,
it was thought that the bird who had so frequently
escaped his cage before was safe at last, and fairly
on his way to the gallows.

Not so thought Jake the Flint. Despair did not
seem to be a possibility to him. Accordingly, he
examined his prison carefully, and with a hopeful
smile. The examination was soon completed, for
the room presented no facilities whatever for escape.
There was no bed from which to take the sheets
and blankets to extemporise a rope. No mattress to
throw over the window so as to break a heavy man's
fall. No chimney by which to ascend to the roof,
no furniture, indeed, of any kind beyond a deal
chair and table. The door was of solid oak and
bolted outside.

Obviously the window was his only chance. He
went to it and looked out. The depth was too

OF The sba akd the rookies.

936

much, he know, for even his strong bones to stand
the shock ; and the sentinel paced to and fro under-
neath with loaded carbine.

" If any one would only lay a feather-bed down
there," thought Jake, "I'd jump an' take my
chance." ^

While he was gazing meditatively on the fair
prospect of land and water that lay before him, one
of the bolts of the door was withdrawn, then an-
other, and the door slowly opened.

For an instant the outlaw gathered himself up for
a rush, with a view f o sell his life dearly, and he had
even begun to draw one of his hands out of the
manacles, when the folly and hopelessness of the
attempt struck him. He quickly checked himself
and met his jailor (one of the troopers) with I
smilmg countenance as he entered and laid a loaf
and a jug of water on the table.

The rattle of a musket outside told Jake that his
jailor had not come alone.

Without a word the man turned, and was leaving
the room, when Jake, in a voice of great humility,
asked him to stop.

" You couldn't remove these things, could you ? "
he said, holding out his fettered hands.
"No," answered the trooper, sharply.
"Ah!" sighed Jake, «I feared it was agin the

rules. You nnnlHn'f. l^f *«^ V-.- ii » ^-

- •" -^" «io iiavo Dne use 01 a file,

could you, for a few minutes ? What ! agin' rules

:»•.«*<

2de

CIIAHLIE TO THE HESCUE : A TALB

iiiii

I ii

ii I'll

too ? It 's a pity, for I 'm used to brush my teeth
with a file of a mornin', an' I like to do it before
broakfttst."

Jake interlarded his speech with a variety of
oaths, with which wo will not defile the paper, but
he could extract no further reply from the trooper
than a glance of scorn.

Left to himself, Jake again went to the window,
which was a small cottage one, opening inwards
like a door. He opened it and looked out. The
sentinel instantly raised his carbine and ordered
him to shut it.

" Hullo ! Silas, is that you ? " cried Jake in sur-
prise, but paying no attention to the threat, "I
thought you had quit for Heaven durin' the last
skrimidge wi' the Reds down in Kansas ? Glad to
see you lookin' so well. How 's your wife an' the
child'n, Silas ? "

" Come now, Jake," said the trooper sternly, " you
know it 's all up with you, so you needn't go talkin'
bosh like that — more need to say your prayers.
Stand back and shut the window, I say, else I '11 put
a bullet through your gizzard."

" Well now, Silas," said Jake, remonstratively, and
opening the breast of his red shirt as he spoke, " I
didn't expect that of an old friend like you— indeed
I aidn't. But, see here, if you raaly are goin' to fire
take good aim an' keep clear o' the heart and liver.
The gizzard lies hereabout (pointing to his breast)

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

237

and easy to hit if you 'vc a steady hand. I know
the exact spot, for I Vo liad tho cuttin' up of a good
bunch o' men in my day. an' I can't bear to see a
thing muddled. But hold on, Silas, I won't put ye
to the pain o' shootin' me. I 'U shut the window if
you '11 make mo a promise."

"What's that?" demanded the trooper, still
covering tho outlaw, however, with his carbine.

" You know I 'm goin' to my doom-that 's what
poetical folk call it, Silas-an' I want you to help
me wind up my affairs, as the lawyers say. Well,
this here (holding up a coin) is my last dollar the'
remains o' my fortin', Silas, an' this here bit o' paper
that I 'm rappin' round it is my last will an' testi-
monial. You '11 not refuse to give it to my only
friend on arth, Hunky Ben, for I've no wife or
chick to weep o'er my grave, even though they
knew where it was. You '11 do this for me, Silas
won't you ? " '

" All right— pitch it down."

Jake threw the coin, which fell on the ground a
few feet in front of the trooper, who stooped to pick
it up.

With one agile bound the outlaw leaped from the
window and descended on the trooper's back, which
was broken by the crashing blow, and Jake rolled
over him with considerable violence, but the poor
man's body had proved a sufficient buffer, and Jake
rose unhurt. Deliberately taking the carbine from

<^»

238

OIIARLIR TO THE RESOUB : A TALI

the (load man's hand, and plucking the revolver
from his belt, ho sauntered off in the direction
of the stables. Those being too small to contain
all the troop-horses, some of the animals were
picketed in an open shed, and several troopers
were rubbing them down. The men took Jake
for one of tho cow-boys of the ranch, for ho passed
them whistling.

Entering tho stable he glanced quickly round,
selected tho finest horso, and, loosing its halter from
the stall, turned the animal's head to the door.

"What are ye doin' wi' the captain's horse?"
demanded a trooper, who chanced to be in the
neighbouring stall.

" The captain wants it. Hold his head till I get
on him. He's frisky," said Jake, in a voice of
authority.

The man was taken aback and obeyed; but as
Jake mounted he turned suddenly pale.

The outlaw, observing the change, drew the re-
volver, and, pointing it at the trooper's head, said,
in a low savage voice, " A word, a sound, and your
brains are on the floor ! "

The man stood open-mouthed, as if petrified.
Jake shook the reins of the fiery horse and bounded
through the door-way, stooping to the saddle-bow
as he went. He could see, even at that moment,
that the trooper, recovering himself, was on the

Point of nttfiri"£r a shout Wbeelins? r^^und in the

OP THE SKA AJm THE R0CKIE8. Mf

htli '""• "'"' "'" """ '"" ''"'■ " '•""«' in

The shot of courao aroused tlm wl,„lo ranch

Men r„..,«a.„to the yard with „„., without nr„.t
w.ld coufusion. but only in time to see a flyi„„

horseman croas the .,u„re and make for the gate
A rat l,n« .rrogular volley wa. aent after him. buf the
only effect it had was to cause the outlaw to t,,,,.
round in the saddle and wave hi, hat. wllnl
vont to a yell of triumph. Another moment and
J.e was beyond the bluff and had disappeared.

r...l r ""''"°'" '"''"""y ™»g °<" at the
ranch and eve^ preparation was mad. for pursuU

oug , mounted as Jake was on the bestl 2

oMhe troop, they could not hope to overtake

Hunky Ben, at his own particular request was
permitted to go on in advance.

"You see, sir," he said to the captain, "my Black
Polly an't quite as good as your charger, but she 's
more used to this sort o' country, an' /can take tie
ahort cuts where your horse could hardly follow."

l^ '^\ ^° ^'">°"t yo«. now that we have Mr
Brooke to guide us."

Chlrhe"" o.r'l"'' "'" "" """""^^ ^«"' - he passed
Charlie on his way to the stables. "Don't you

ctt' z^^- 1° «^'^^ .'^^ -^^^^ ^° '^:

inic. ...... i ni goin' on before you to

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OHARUE TO TIIK RP80V1: ▲ TALI

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hutit up the rcptilcs->to try an' catch Juke the
Flint ! "

The scout chuckled inwardly as ho said this.

" But why go in advance ? You can never over-
take the scoundrel with such a start and on such a
liora<i."

" Never you mind what I can or can't do,'* said
Ben, entering the stable wliore the dead trooper
still lay, and unfastening Black Polly. "I've no
time to explain. All I know is that your friend
Leather is sure to be hanged if ho 's cotched, an' I 'ra
sure he 's an innocent man — therefore, I 'm goin' to
save him. It 's best for you to know nothin' more
than that, for I see you *re not used to tellin' lies.
Can you trust me ? "

" Certainly I can. The look of your face, Ben,
even more than the character you bear, would in-
duce me to trust you."

" Well then, Mr. Brooke, the first sign o' trust is
to obey orders without askin' questions."

" True, when the orders are given by one who has
a right to command," returned Charlie.

" Just so, an' my right to command lies in the
fact that the life o' your friend Leather depends on
your obedience."

" I 'm your humble servant, then. But what am
I to do?"

"Do whatever Captain Wilmot orders without
objectin', an' speak nothing but the truth. You

'HIil "'

or TirK 8EA AND TIIK BoclUM. t41

he couUh„„«,,t,,,,,, „. „„ ,„„ „., ,,, ^„;,_, '
«toc.l. Vour fnond I.o„tIu,r l,«s got « Chri,tiu„

to ho«r .t Sfty Mothfa' about it to nnybo.ly. Tho
t.mo nmy come wl.en it may bo useful to drop L

nock of lua beautiful nmie, and in another minutn
woa seen racing at full speed over the rolli;;;::; f

• if jjfo Jf I

242

CllAllLlE TO TllK UESCUE: A TALE

i,f!]

CHAPTER XXI.

TELLS OP A OnUBL DEED, AND SHOWS HOW MYSTERIOUSLY
HUNKY DEN BEHAVED.

When Jake escaped from the ranch of Roar-
ing Bull he tried the mettle of Captain Wilmot's
charger to the uttermost, for well he knew that the
pursuit would be instant and vigorous; that his
late comrade Charlie Brooke could guide the troops
to the cavern in Traitor's Trap, and that if his
companions, who would doubtless ride straight back,
were to escape, they must be warned in time.
He also knew that the captain's charger was a
splendid one. In order to accomplish his purpose,
therefore, he would ride it to death.

The distance between the ranch and the outlaws'
cave was not so great but that any mustang in the
plains could have traversed it in a day, but the cruel
man had made up his mind that the captain's
charger should do it in a few hours. It is not so
much distance as pace that kills. Had any consi-
deration whatever been extended to the noble crea-
ture by the ignoble brute who rode it, the good
horse would have galloped to the head of the Trap

OP THE SEA AND THE KOCKIES. 243

almost without turning a hair At fir«f i . ,

ground m the exuberance of l.is strength • thourrh
the e was no need to bound, and coursing ver S

ot an gtSpS: tuf ? '' r ' "°"-««'

of the In-lT, ^ "' '"'■'" ""« ^O'^^r Slopes

Tt b,Tfi """^ *''"' *'"= '"»«« began to

put back first one ear and fi>^„ .1, ,.1

times both as .ff ^ °"'"'' ^"'' ="">«-

"well Z;.. / o^Pectation of the familiar

well done, or pat on the neck, or cheek nf fi,
re.n with which the captain had be" w It to s, 'c'

torn !. , * "°"''"^' ^"len the first symp.

torn appeared of a desire to reduce speed jZ
drove his cruel spurs into the charger's glo 1 ^
With a wrld snort and bound the horse Ltd
ov^a^n and spurned the ground as if in^rCa^t
Then the breath began to labour slightly the

Z^f^T'r' "^"^^ coat,and1h';M
'oam to fleck his broad chest. Still Jake pressed

e It^drw "'"""^ ^"^- '' '^om nT
2 cted that a man who cared not for his feUow
woma nave much «^r«-M- " ~
Murder of

deeper dye than that of a horse

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214

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

I '!!/ t

seething in the outlaw's brain. This to him useless
expedition, which had so nearly cost him his life,
would be the last that Buck Tom should command.
After blowing out his brains he would warn the
others of the impending danger and lead them away
to other and more favourable fields of enterprise.

At this point the good horse stumbled and almost
threw his rider, who, with horrible curses, plied the
spurs and tugged at the bit until blood was mingled
with the flying foam. Never, save once — when
Captain Wilmot was caught alone in the plains by
Cheyenne Indians and had to fly for his life— had
the good charger been urged to anything like such
an effort as he was now called on to make, and then
there was no cruelty mingled with the urging. The
very tone of his master's voice, as lie patted the
neck ar?d shook the rein and gently touched him
with the spur, must have convinced the intelligent
creature that it was a matter of life or death—
that there was a stern need-be for such haste.

Turning at last into the gorge of the Trap, the
charger gasped and sobbed with distress as he faced
the steep ascent and tried, with the unabated
courage of a willing heart, to pull himself together
while the unmerciful monster still drove in the
spurs and galled his tender mouth. But the brave
effort was unavailing. Stumbling over a root that
crossed the path, the horse plunged forward, and
fell with a crash, sending his rider over his head.

n useless
his life,
ommand.
warn the
lem away
•prise,
id almost
plied the
3 mingled
3e — when
plains by
life — had
like such
and then
ing. The
atted the
shed him
ntelligent
' death —
ste.

Trap, the
3 he faced
unabated
f together
re in the
the brave
root that
vard, and
his head.

OF THE SEA AND THE ItOCKIES. 246

Jake, alighting on his face and right shoulder, lay
stunned for a few seconds. Then he jumped up
displaying torn garments and a face covered with
Dlood.

Eunniug to the horse's head he seized the rein
and shook it savagely, kicking the animal's face
wi h hw heavy boots in his anxiety to make it rise,
but the poor charger was beyond his cruelty by
that time, for its neck had been broken by tho fall

Oh ! It was one of those sights which are iitted
to make even thoughtless men recognise the need of
a Saviour for the human race, and to reject with
something like scorn the doctrine-founded on
wholly insufficient evidence-that there is no future
of compensation for the lower animals i

The outlaw did not waste time in vain regrets.
Bestowing a meaningless curse on the dead chLer
he turned and went up the narrow glen at a smart
pace, but did not overstrain himself, for he knew
well that none of the troop-horses could have kept
up with him. He counted on having plenty of
time to warn his comrades and get away without
hurry. But he reckoned without his host-beinc
quite Ignorant of the powers of Black Polly and
but slightly acquainted with those of her master
Hunky Ben.

Indeed so agile were the movements of Polly
and so thoroughly was the scout acquainted witJi'
the by-paths and short cuts of that region, that he

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246

OHArJ.IE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

actually passed the fugitive and reached the head
of Traitor's Trap before him. This he managed by-
forsaking the roads, keeping a straighter line for
the outlaws' cave, and passing on foot over the
shoulder of a hill where a horseman could not go.
Thus he came down on the covern, about half-an-
hour before Jake's arrival. Clambering to the
crevice in the cliff against which the cave abutted,
and sliding down into a hollow on its earthen roof,
he cautiously removed a small stone from its posi-
tion, and disclosed a hole through which he could
both hear and see most of what took place inside.

Lest any one should wonder at the facility with
which the ground lent itself to this manoeuvre, we
may as well explain that the bold scout possessed
one of those far-re? ching minds which are not satis-
fied without looking into everything, — seeing to the
bottom of, and peering round to the rear of, all
things, as far as possible. He always acted on the
principle of making himself acquainted with every
road and track and by-path, every stream, pond,
river, and spring in the land. Hence he was well
aware of this haunt of outlaws, and, happening to
be near it one day when its owners were absent, he
had turned aside to make the little arrangement of
a peep-hole, in the belief that it might possibly turn
out to be of advantage in course of time !

The clump of shrubs and grass on the rugged
bank, which formed the top of the cave, effectu-

al il

I' I I I'

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 247

ally concealed the natural hollow which he had
deepened, and the overhanging mass of the rugged
cliff protected it from rain and dew.

What Hunky Ben saw on looking through his
peep-hole filled him with surprise and pity, and
compelled him to modify his plans.

Almost below him on a brush couch, lay the tall
form of Buck Tom, with the unmistakable hue of
approaching death upon his countenance. Beside
him, holding his head, kneeled the much-wasted
figure of Leather—the reputed outlaw. Seated or
standing around in solemn silence were six of the
outlaws, most of whom bore tokens of the recent
fight, in the form of bandage on head or limb.

" I brought you to this. Leather ; God forgive me,"
said the dying man faintly.

"No, you didn't, Ealph," replied the other, calling
him by his old familiar name, " I brought myself to
it. Don't blame yourself, Ealph ; you weren't half so
bad as me. You 'd never have been here but for
me. Come, Ealph, try to cheer up a bit ; you're not
dying. It 's only faint you are, from loss of blood
and the long gallop. When you 've had a sleep
and some food, you '11 feel stronger. We '11 fetch a
doctor soon, an' he'll get hold o' the bullet. Dear
Halph, don't shake your head like that an' look so
solemn. Cheer up, old boy !"
Leather spoke with a sort of dAST^Prnfo forvour

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but Ralph could not cheer

up.

248

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

U !'

" No," he said sadly, " there is no cheer for mo.
I 've thrown my life away. There 's no hope — no
mercy for mo. I 'vo been trying to recall the past,
an' what mother used to teach me, but it won't
come. Tiicro 's only one text in all the Bible that
comes to me now. It's this — *13e sure your sin
will find you out!' That's true, boys," he said,
turning a look on his comrades. " Whatever else
may be false, that 's true, for I know it."
" That 's so, dear Ealph," said Leather earnestly,

" but it's no less true that '*

Just then a noise was heard in the outer pass-
age; then hurrying footsteps. Instinctively every
man drew his revolver and faced the door. Next
moment Jake entered.

" Here, one of you ; a drink— I'm fit to ha !"

His eyes fell on the figure of Buck and he shrank
back for a moment in silent surprise.

" Yes, Jake," said the dying man, with a glance
of pity not unmiugled with scorn, "it has come
sooner than you or I expected, and it will save you
some trouble— maybe some regret. I've seen
through your little game, Jake, and am glad I 've
been spared the necessity of thwarting you."

He stopped owing to weakness, and Jake, re-
covering himself, hastily explained the reason of his
sudden appearance.

" Fetch me a rag an' eome water, boys," he con-
tinued. " It looks wori. ihan it is — only skin deep.

OF THE SEA AND THE IIOCKIES. 249

And we We not a moment to lose. Those who have
a mind may follow me. Thom that wants to swine
may stop."

" But how about Buck Tom ? " asked one who
was not quite so depraved as the others.

"What's the use o' askin'?" said Jake. "It's
all up with him, don't you see ? Besides, ho 's safe
enough. They 'd never have the heart to hang a
dying man."

•'An' Leather!" cried another. "We mustn't
quit Leather. He's game for many a fight yet.
Come, Leather; we'll help you along, for they're
sure to string you up on the nearest tree."

"Don't trouble yourself about me," said Leather,
looking round, for he still kneeled beside his old
friend, « I don't intend to escape. Look to your-
selves, boys, an' leave us alone."

" Unless you 're all tired o' life you '11 quit here
an' skip for the woods," said Jake, as, turning round,
he hurriedly left the place.

The others did not hesitate, but followed him
at once, leaving Buck Tom, and his friend to shift
for themselves.

During all this scene Hunky Ben had been in-
tently gazing and listening^chiefly the latter.
When the outlaws filed past him he found it ex-
tremely difficult to avoid putting a bullet into the
Flmt, but he restrained himself because of what yet
remained to be done.

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lili

!«0

CIIAUMK TO THE UESCUE : A TALK

soon as ilio outlaws wore well out of flij,'ht
Bon aroso nncl proparod for action. First of all ho
ti-^'htonud his bolt. Tiiuii ho pullod tho hood of his
coat well ovor his head, so that it cflbctually cou-
coalod liis face, and, still further to accomplish
the end in view, he fastened the hood in front with
a wooden pin. Proceeding to tho stable ho found,
as ho had hoped and expected, that the outlaws had
left one or two horse-cloths behind in their flight.
In one of these ho enveloped his person in such a
way as to render it unrecognisable. Then ho walked
straight into tho cave, and, without a word of warn-
ing, threw his strong arms around Shank Leather
and lifted him off tho ground.

Of course Leather shouted and struggled at first,
but as well might a kitten have struggled in tho
grip of a grizzly bear. In his worn condition ho
felt himself to be utterly powerless. Buck Tom
made a feeble effort to rise and help him, but tho
mere effort caused him to fall back with a groan
of helpless despair.

Swiftly his captor bore Leather up the side of
the hill till he got behind a clump of trees, into the
heart of which he plunged, and then set his burden
down on his feet. At the same time, throwing back
his hood and flinging away the horse-cloth, he stood
up and smiled.
" Hunky Ben, or his ghost ! " exclaimed Shank,

for

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

201

You 'ro right, you

ng man, though you've only

seed mo onco that I know of. Hut most men that
see mo onco aro apt to roinoniher mo."

^ ''Well, Hunky," said Loatlier, while tho indigna-
tion began to return, "you may think this vc-ry
annising, but it's mean of a big strong man like
you to take advantage of a fellow that 's as weak as
a child from wounds an' fever. Lend mo ono o'
your six-shooters, now, so as we may stand on

somewhat more equal terms and but a truce to

boasting ! I 'm sure that you wouldn't keep smilincr
at me hko a Cheshire cat if there wasn't something
behnid tliis." **

"You're right. Mr. Leather," said Ben, becoming
at once grave and earnest. There is somethin' be-
hind it-ay, an' somethin' before it too. So much
that I have barely time to tell "ee. So, listen wi'
both ears. There 's a bunch o' men an' troops close
to the Trap even now, on their way to visit your cave.
It they find you-you know what that means ? "

" Death," said Leather quietly.

"Ay, death ; though ye don't desarve it," said Ben.

" But I do deserve it," returned Shank in the
same quiet voice.

Well, may-hap you do," rejoined the scout coolly,
" but not, so far as I know, in connection wi' your
present company. Now, there 's Buck Tom "

"Ay, what of him?" asked Shank, anxiously.

''Well, in the nat'ral course o' things, death is

■f

It J-

»«>

I i!i

969

CIIARLrE TO THE UE8CUE : A TALE

comin' to him too, an* that '11 save him from bcin*
■trmiLj up— for they 'ro apt to do that sort o* thinpj
hereavvdy in a loos^ free-an -easy stylo that's awk-
ward sometime. I was " 'thin an inch of it myself
once, all through a mistake— 1 '11 tell 'ec about that
when I 'vo got more time, maybe. Well, now, I 'm
keen to sa\c yuu an' Buck Tom if I can, and what
I want you to understand is, that if you expect mo
to help you at a time when you stand considerable
in need o' help, you '11 have to do what I tell 'ee."

"And what would you have me do?" asked
Shank, with a troubled look.

" Itemain hero till I come for *ee, and when you
meet me in company say nothin' about havin' met
mo before."

"Can I trust you, Ilunky Ben?" said Shank,
looking at him earnestly.

" If you can't trust me, what d' ye propose to do ? "
asked the scout with a grin.

"You're right, Ben. I tmist trust you, and, to
say truth, from the little I know of you, I believe
I 've nothing to fear. But my anxiety is for Ealph—
Buck Tom, I mean. You 'ro sure, I suppose, that
Mr. Brooke will do his best to shield him ? "

" Ay, sartin sure, an', by the way, don't mention
your Christian name just now — whatever it i&— nor
for some time yet. Good-day, an' keep quiet till I
come. We 've wasted overmuch time a'ready."

So saving:, the scout left the coDDice. and. flinmner

* V

OV THE SEA AND THE IIOCKIES.

253

rom bcin'
i o' thinj?
it's awk-
it my self
bout that
now, I 'in
and what
ixpcct mo
isiderablo
ell 'ou."
?" asked

i^hcn you
ivin' met

I Shank,

e to do ? "

, and, to

I helievG

Ealph —

lose, that

mention
t is —nor
liet till I

L flino-iner

Open his coat, ro-ontorcd tho cave a very difie rent-
looking man from what ho was when lie left it.

"Hunky Ben!" exclaimed Buck, who had re-
covered by that time. " I wish you had turned up
half-an-hour since, boy. You might havo saved
my poor friend Lcatlicr from a monster who camo
here and cariiod him away bodily."

"Ay? That's strange, now. Ilowb'over, worse
luck might havo befel him, for the troops aro at my
heels, an' ye know what would bo in store for him
if he Was here."

"Yes, indeed, I know it, Ben, and what is in
store for mo too ; but Death will havo his lau^ih at
them if they don't look sharp."

"No, surely," said the scout, in a tone of real
commiseration, "you'ro not so bad as that, aro
you ? "

"Truly am I," answered Buck, with a pitiful
look, "shot in the chest. But I saw you in tho
light, Ben ; did you guide them hero ? "

"That's what I did— at least I told 'em which
way to go, an' camo on in advance to worn you in
time, so 's you might escape. To tell you tho plain
truth, Ealph Eitson, I 'vo bin told all about you by
your old friend Mr. Brooke, an' about Leather too,
who, you say, has bin carried off by a monster ? "

" Yes— at least by a monstrous big man."

" You *re quite sure o* that ? "

Wl MP'

snrp.

>»

^ ■,!

S04

CIIAIILIK TO TIIK UWCUE : A TALB

"An* you wuuM know tlio monstor if you saw
him ngain?"

" I think r would know hia figure, but not his
face, for I did not aoo it."

"Strun^'ol" ronmrkcd the scout, with a simple
look ; •• nn' you 're surtiu sure you don't know where
Leather is now ? "

"Not got the most distant idea."

" Tlmt 's well now ; stick to that, an' there 's no
fear o' Leather. As to yoursolf— they '11 never think
o' hangin' you till ye can Widk to the gallows— so
cheer up, Buck Tom. It may be that ye dcaarve
hangin', for all I know; but not just at present.
I 'm a bit of a surgeon, too— bein' a sort o' Jack-of-
all-trades, and know how to extract bullets. What
between Mr. Brooke an' mo an' time, wonders may
be worked, if you're wise enough to keep a tight
rein on your tongue."

While the scout was speaking, the tramp of
cavalry was heard outside, and a few minutes later
Captain Wilmot entered the cave, closely followed
by Charlie Brooke.

iMi^i

?IK

J, Asm*'-

or THE BRA AlfD TIIK HOCKIKf,

109

OHArrKU XXII.

TIIK CAVH or Till OnTT,AWB INVADKD BT (JIIORTB AWD V.H. TnoOPJI.

Wk nood scarcely say that lUick Tom was wiso
enough to put a bridle on his tongue after tl>o
warning liint ho had received from the scout. Ho
found this all the easier that ho had nothing to con-
ceal save the Christian name of his friend Lcalhor,
and, as it turned out, this was never asked for by
the coniniandor of the troops. All that the dying
outlaw could reveal was that Jake the Flint had
suddenly made his appearance in the cave only a
short time previously, had warncf^ his comrades,
and, knowing that he (Buck) was mortally wounded,
and that Leather was helplessly weak from a wound
which had nearly killed him, had left them both to
their fate. That, just after they had gone, an un-
usually broad powerful man, with his face concealed,
had suddenly entered the cave and carried Leather
off, in spite of his struggles, and that, about half-an-
hour later, Hunky Ben had arrived to find the cave
deserted by all but himself. Where the other out-
laws had gone to he could not tell— of course they

'"'■■'Ml

I
I

31
31

256

CHARLIE TO THE KESCUE : A TALE

would not reveal that to a comrade who was sure to
fall into the hands of their enemies.

" And you have no idea," continued the captain,
"who the man is that carried your friend Leather
so hurriedly away ? "

"Not the slightest," returned Buck. "Had my
revolver been handy and an ounce of strength left
in me, you wouldn't have had to ask the question."

" Passing strange ! " murmured Captain Wilmot,
glancing at the scout, who was at the moment
. seated on a keg before the fire lighting his pipe, and
witl^ a look of simple benignant stolidity on his
grave countenance. " Have you no idea, Ben, where
these outlaws have taken themselves off to ? "

" No more 'n a lop-eared rabbit, Captain Wiimot,"
answered the scout. " You see there 's a good many
paths by which men who knows the place could
git out 0* the Trap, an* once out o' it there 's the
whole o' the Kockie range where to pick an' choose."

" But how comes it, Ben, that you missed Jake ?
Surely the road is not so broad that you could pass
him unseen ! Yet you arrived here before him ? "

" That 's true, sir, but sly coons like the Flint can
retire into the brush when they don't want to be
overhauled. That wasn't the way of it, however.
With such a splendid animal as your poor horse, Cap-
tain, an' ridden to death as it was — an' as I 'spected
it would be — I knowed I had no chance o' comin' up
wi* the Flint, so I took advantage o' my knowledge

OF THE 8EA AKD THE ROCKIES. 287

0- the lay 0- the land, an' pushed ahead by a slighter

1 iL ^ T. "' ^'" ''''^'«' °' *« rant! an-
droppin that other people don't know on I peeoed

sorf n' fn.i u . ^* ^^^ ^"^^ a sneakin'

sort feel about it! An' thpn fr,« xi,
couirln'f -.n^ I, ' *^® others— I

couldut see how many there was-wonTrl T.o
swarmed out on me an' T'^ h7 T . ''''^

tracks for the scruT'an' 1 rn '^h > '" "^'"^
fl J i. 1 «^^"«-, an i^rn nothm* more Sn T

-S'l r7"f r "^^^ ^"'' - ^1 *hat I c! ,d
-praps find out where they fixed to pull out to
Bu I heard nothin' more worth tellin'. Thev 1^,
made some hurried, an' by no means kindly oteem
tjons about poor Buck an' leather an' wi tZtr
he hJls. I „ent into the woods a bit ffiyselfarter
ttat, just to be well out o' the way, so to speak *
when I got back hers Leather V ""^"''^'^^

gom

258

CHAllLIE TO THE TIKSCUE : A TALE

« And you didn't see the man that carried him off?"

" No I didn't see him."

« You'd have shot him, of course, if you had seen

himl" ,

"Ko, indeed, captain, I wouldnt.

.-No! why not?" aaked the captain with a peou-

"""mithecanse," answered the scout, with a look
of great solemnity, "I wouldn't shoot such a man
on any account-no matter what he was dom !

ied!" returned the other with a hroadening
^mUe. " I had no idea you were superstitious, Ben.
I thought you feared neither man nor devil.

« mat I fear an' what I don't fear," returned
the ..coutwith quiet dignity, "is a matter which
has never given me much consarn.

.. Well, don't be hurt, Hunky Ben, I don t for one
„,oment question your courage, only I fancied that
Tyou saw any one rescuing an outlawjou would
have tried to put a bullet into him whether he hap-
cened to be a man or a ghost."
'^ i I have told you," broke in Buck Tom with
something of his old fire, "that Leather xsncian

"""TL. only y^r word for that, and you know
what that is worth," returned the captam. I dou t
want to be hard on one apparently so near his end,
Z to say truth, I'm inclined to beUeve you, u

, __ .v.*. ^Y^c man Leather has been for a long
4 we know uuau unj.j uirtu j — «**

OF THE SEA AND THR ROCKIES.

259

time in your company-whether a member of your
band or not must be settled before another tribunal.
If caught, he stands a good chance of being hanged
And now," added the captain, turning to a sergeant
who had entered the cave with him, " tell the men
to put up their horses as best they may. We camp
here for the night. We can do nothing while it is
(lark, but with the first gleam of day we will make
a thorough search of the neighbourhood."

While the troopers and tLeir commander were
busy making themselves as comfortable as possible
in and around the cave, the scout went quietly up to
the clump of wood where Leather was in hiding
and related to that unfortunate all that had taken'
place since he left him.

"It is very good of you, Hunky, to take so
much mterest in me and incur so much risk and
trouble; but do you know," said Leather, with a
look of surr-rise, not unmingled with amusement,
"you are a puzzle to me, for I can't understand how
you could tell Captain Wilmot such a heap o' lies
—you that has got the name of bein' the truest-
hearted scout on the frontier ! "

^' You puzzle me more than I puzzle you, Leather,"
returned the scout, with a simple look. « What lies
have I told ?"

"Why, all you said about what you saw and
heard when you said you were eavesdroppin' must
have been nonspnse vmi l■Y^r^•,rr 4?^- i, ^y

260

ciiahlie to the rescue : a tale

^ll

hear and see what took place in the cave through
tons of rock and earth ? "

" How I saw and heard, my son Leather, is a pri-
vate affair of my own, but it was no lie.
Leather looked incredulous.
" Then you said," he continued, " that you didn't
see the man that carried me away."

« No more I did, boy. I never saw him ! "
" What ! not even in a looking-glass ? "
" Not even in a lookin'- glass," returned Hunky.
" I 've seed his reflection there many a time, — an' a
I^retty good-lookin' reflection it was— but I Ve never
see'd himself— that I knows on! No, Leather, if
Captain Wilmot had axed me if I saw you carried
off, I might ha' been putt in a fix, but he didn't ax me
that. He axed if I 'd seen the man that carried you
off an' I told the truth when I said I had not More-
over I wasn't bound to show him that he wasn't fit to
be a lawyer— specially when he was prter an inno-
cent man, an' might p'l'aps hang him without a
trial. It was my duty to guide the captain in pur-
suit of outlaws, an' it is my duty to shield an inno-
cent man. Between the two perplexin' duties I.
tried to steer as straight a course as I could, but I
confess I had to steer pretty close to the wind."

« Well, Hunky, it is my duty to thank you instead
of criticising you as I have done, but how do you
come to be so sure that I 'm innocent ? "
"P'r'flT^fi hpp.au sft vG Dutt such an innocent

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 261

iiuestion," replied Ben, w'th a little smile. " D' ye
rally think, Leather, that an old scout like me is
goin' to let you see through all the outs and ins by
which I comes at my lainin' ! It 's enough for you
to know, boy, that I know a good deal more about
you than ye think-more pYaps than ye know
about yerself. I don't go for to say that you're a
bcrn angel, wantin' nothin' but a pair o' wings to
carry ye off to the better land-by no means, but
I do know that as regards jinin' Buck Tom's boys,
or takin' a willin' part in their devilish work, ye are'
innocent, an' that's enough for me."

"I'm glad you know it and believe it, Ben,"
said Leather, earnestly, " for it is true. I followed
Buck, because he 's an old, old chum, and I did it at
the risk of my life, an' then, as perhaps you are
aware, we were chased and I got injured. So far I
am innocent of acting with these men, but Ben,
I don't admit my innocence in anything else ! My
whole life— well, well— it's ot no use talkin'. Tell
me, d'ye think there's any chance o' Buck getting
over this?"

" He may. Nobody can tell. I '11 do my best
for him. I never lose hope of a man, after what
I've see'd in my experience, till the breath is fairly
01' i fiiim."

" Thank God for these words, Ben."
"Yes," continued the scout, "aud your friend
Brooke is at this moment sunk in the blue dumns

••" mm

nMl

iMi

,*0-'

262

CHAKLIE TO THE llESCUE : A TALE

because you have been carried off by a great
mysterious monster ! "

" Then he doesn't know it was you ? " exclaimed
Leather.

"In course not. An' ho doesn't know you arc
within five hundred yards of him. An* what's
more, you mustn't let him know it was me, for
that must be kept a dead secret, else it'll ruin
my character on the frontier. "We must surround
it v/i' mystery, my boy, till all is safe. But I didn't
come up here to enjoy an evenin's conversation.
You're not safe where you are. Leather. They'll
be scourin' all round for you long before sun-up,
so I must putt you where you'll be able to look
on an* grin at them."

" Where will that be ? " asked Leather, with some
curiosity.

" You know the cliff about five hundred feet high
that rises just over on the other side o* the valley —
where the water-shoot comes down ? *'

"Ay, it*s likely I do, for I've seen it every
mornin' for months past."

" An* you remember the hole near the top o' the
cHff?"

" Yes — that looks about the size of a crow ? "

" "Whatever it looks like it 's three times the size
of a man, an' it 's the mouth of a cave," returned the
scout. " Now, I '11 lead you to the track that 'U let
you up to that cave. It *s a splendid place, full of

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

2ftS

all sorts o' holes an' places where a man couldn't
find you even if he know'd you was there. Once
up, you may sit down, smoke your pipe in the
mouth o' the cave, an' enjoy yourself, lookin' on at
the hunt arter yourself. Here 's a bit o' chuck I 've
brought to keep you from wearyin', for they may
keep it up all day. When all danger is past I '11
come up for ye. You needn't show more o' your-
self, however, than the top o' your head. A man
can never be over-cautious when he 's bein' hunted
down. An' mind, don't leave the place till I come
for you."

Handing a cold roast fowl and a loaf to his
companion, the scout got up and led him away to
the spot which he had just described. It was by
that time quite dark, but as Hunky Ben knew every
inch of the ground he glided along almost as quickly
as if it had been broad day, followed, with some
difficulty, by poor Leather, who was still in a state
of great prostration,, partly because of his injury and
partly in consequence of his previous dissipation.
As the place, however, was not much more than
half-a-mile distant his powers of endurance were not
much tried. The scout led him across the narrow
valley just above the outlaws* cave, and then, enter-
ing a steep rocky defile, he began to ascend a place
that was more suitable for goats than men. After
half-an-hour of upward toil they reached a plateau
where the track— if it may be so styled — seemed

P<MI|I

264

CIIAllLIR TO TIIF RESCUE : A TALE

III

to run in a zig-zag manner until it reached a
small hole in the solid rock. Through this they
entered and found themselves within a cavern
and in total darkness.

" We may rest a bit now," said the scout. " There 's
a ledge hereabouts. There you are. Sit down.
I '11 have to take your hand here lest you fall off
the bridge into the holes on each side o' the track."

" Are the holes dangerous ? " asked Leather.

"They're dangerous enough to be worth takin'
care of, anyhow, for if ye was to tumble into one
you 'd never come out again. There, nov% let 's go
on, for if I don't git back soon, they '11 be wonderin'
if the monster hasn't run away wi' me too, as well
as you ! "

After advancing a short distance in total dark-
ness — Ben feeling his way carefully step by step —
they came suddenly to the hole in the front of the
cave to which reference has been already made.
The place had evidently been used before as a place
of refuge and temporary abode, for, near this front-
mouth of the cave was found a litter of pine branches
which had plainly been used as a bed.

"Sit ye down there, Leather," said the scout,
" see, or, rather, hear — for the eyes aren't of much
use just now — I 've set down the grub an' a flask
o' water beside ye. Don't strike a light unless you
want to have your neck stretched. Daylight won't
be long 0* lettin' ye see what 's goin' on. You won't

OF TFIE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 265

weary, for it'll bo aj good as a play, yourself bein*
chief actor an* audience all at the same time ! "

Saying this the scout melted, as it were, into the
darkness of the cavern, and, with noiseless moc-
casined feet, retraced his steps to the rear entrance.
Left to himself the poor wanderer found both
time and food for reflection, for he did not dare in
the darkness to move from the spot where he had
seated himself. At first an eerie feeling of inde-
finable fear oppressed him, but this passed away
as the busy thoughts went rambling back to home
and the days of comparative innocence gone by.
Forgetting the dark surroundings and the threaten-
ing dangers, he was playing again on the river
banks, drinking liquorice-water, swimming, and
rescuing kittens with Charlie Brooke. Anon, he
was wandering on the sea-beach with his sister,
brown-eyed Mary, or watching the manly form of
his old friend and chum buffeting the waves to-
wards the wreck on the Sealford Eocks. Memory
may not be always faithful, but she is often sur-
prisingly prompt. In the twinkling of an eye
Shank Leather had crossed the Atlantic again and
was once more in the drinking and gambling saloons
-the "Hells "of New York— with his profoundly
admired "friend" and tempter Ralph Eitson. It
was a wild whirl and plunge from bad to worse
through which Memory led him now— scenes at
which he shuddered and on which he would fain

m u

li!

986

ClfAULIF TO TIIR URSCUE : A TAT-F,

.«mIi

have closed his eyes if possible, but Memory knows
not the meaning of mercy. She tore open his eyes
and, becoming unusually strict at this point, bade
him look particularly at all the minute details of
his reckless life—especially at the wrecks of other
lives that had been caused by the wreck of his
own. Then the deepest deep of all seemed to be
reached when he rose — or rather fell — from the
condition of tempted to that of tempter, and, some-
how, managed for a time to lead even the far
stronger-minded Ralph Ritson on the road to ruin.
But, he did not lead him long. The stronger
nature soon re-asserted itself ; seized the reins ; led
the yielding Leather to the cities of the far west ;
from gambling took to robbing, till at last the gay
and handsome Ritson became transformed into
the notorious Buck Tom, and left his weaker chum
to care for himself.

It was at this point — so Memory recalled to him
— that he, Leather, was stopped, in mid and mad,
career, by a man of God with the love of Jesus
in his heart and on his lips. And at this point
Memory seemed to change her action and proved
herself, although unmerciful, pre-eminently faithful.
She reminded him of the deep contrition that God
wrought in his heart; of the horror that over
whelmed him when he thought of what he was, and
what he had done; of the sudden resolve he had
formed to follow Ritson, and try to stop him in the

or TIIR SKA AND TIIK ROCKIKB. 267

fearful career on which he hftd ©nt«fod. Then
came the memory of faihiro ; of dosporato onxioties ;
of futile entreaties; of unaccountably resolute per-
severanco; of joining thn outlaw band to bo near
his friend ; of being laughnd to scorn by them all ;
of being chased by U.S. troops at the very com-
inencemont of his enterprise; of being severely
wounded, rescued, and carried off during the flight
by Buck Tom, and then— a long blank, mingled
with awful dreams and scenes, and ribald songs,
and curses— some of all which was real, and some
the working of a fevered brain.

So terribly vivid were these pictures of memory,
that one of the shouts of dreamland absolutely
awoke him to the fact that ho had extended his
wearied limbs on his couch of pine brush and fal^ m
asleep. He also awoke to the perception that it
was broad daylight, and that a real sliout had min-
gled with that of dreamland, for after he had sat up
and listened intently for a few moments, the shout
was repeated as if at no great distance.

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IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

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11.25

^ L£ 12.0

III 116

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Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(7'i6) 872-4503

^^\.

^ ^^

268

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

CHAPTER XXIII.

THB TROOPS OUTWITTED BY THB 8C0UT AND HIS FRIENDS.

Creeping quickly to the mouth of the cave
Leather peeped cautiously out, and the scene that
met his startled gaze was not calculated to restore
that; equanimity which his recent dreams had dis-
turbed.

The narrow and rugged valley which lay spread
out below him was alive with' horsemen, trotting
hither and thither as if searching for some one,
and several parties on foot were scaling gorges
and slopes, up which a horseman could not
scramble.

The shout which had awakened the fugitive was
uttered by a dismounted trooper who had climbed
higher on the face of the cliff than his fellows, and
wished to attract the attention of those below.

" Hi ! hallo ! " he cried, " send Hunky Ben up
here. "I've found a track that seems to lead to
somewhere, but it'll need the scout's nose to ferret
it out."

Leather's heart beat wildly, for, from the position
of the man, he could not doubt that he had dis-

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

269

covered the track leading up to the cave. Before he
could think how he should act, a response came to
the call from Hunky Ben.

" Ay, ay," he shouted, in a voice so bold and re-
sonant, that Leather felt it was meant to warn him
of his danger, "Ay, ay. Hold on ! Don't be in a'
hurry. The tracks branch out further on, an' some
o' them are dangerous. Wait till I come up.
There's a cave up there, I '11 lead ye to it."

This was more than enough for Leather. He
turned hastily to survey his place of refuge. It
was a huge dismal cavern with branjhing tunnels
around that disappeared in thick obscurity, and
heights above that lost themselves in gloom;
holes in the sides and floor that were of invisible
depth, and curious irregular ledges, that formed a
sort of arabesque fringe to the general confusion.

One of these ornamental ledges, stretching along
the roof with many others, lost itself in the gloom
and seemed to be a hopeful living-place— all the
more hopeful that it was in the full blaze of light
that gushed in through the front opening of the
cave. This opening, it will be remembered, was on
the face of the cliff and inaccessible. But Leather
found that he could not reach the ledge. Hastening
to the dark side of the cave, however, he saw that
by means of some projections and crevices in the
rocky wall he could reach the end of the ledge.
Creeping along it he soon found himself close to

I'ifrKI

It i'«

270

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

the opening, surrounded by strong light, but effec-
tually concealed from view by the ledge. It was as
if he were on a natural rafter, peeping down on the
floor below! As there was a multitude of such
ledges around, which it would take several men
many hours to examine, he began to breathe more
freely, for, would the searchers not naturally think
that a fugitive would fly to the darkest recesses of
his place of -refuge, rather than to the brightest
and most accessible spot ?

He gave vent to a sigh of relief, and was congra-
tulating himself upon his wisdom, when his eyes
chanced to fall on the flask of water and cold roast
fowl and loaf lying conspicuous in the full glare of
light that flooded the front part of the cave !

If the fowl had been thrust whole into his
throat it could scarcely have added to the gush of
alarm that choked him. He slipped incontinently
from his arabesque ledge and dropped upon the
floor. Securing the tell-tale viands with eager haste
he dashed back into the obscurity and clambered
with them back to his perch. And not much too
soon, for he had barely settled down when the voice
of the scout was heard talking pretty loudly.

"Come along, Captain Wilmot," he said, "give
me your hand, sir. It 's not safe to walk alone here,
even wi* a light."

" Here, where are you ? Oh! All right. Haven't
you got a match ? " asked the captain.

OF THE SKA AND THK ROCKIES.

271

"Nothin' that would burn more'n a few seconds.
We're better without a light, for a gust o* wind
might blow it out an* leave us worse than we was.
Mind this step. There."

" Well, I 'm glad I didn't bring any of my men in
here," said the Captain, as he kicked one of his
heavy boots violently against a projection of rock.

"Ay— 'tis as well you didn't," returned the scout,
in a tone suggestive of the idea that he was smiling.
"For there's holes on both sides, an' if one o' your
men went down, ye might read the funeral sarvice
over him at once, an' be done with it. There's a
glimmer o' daylight at last. Te 'U soon be at the
other end now."

"A horrible place, truly," said the Captain, "and
one that it would be hard to find a fellow in even if
we knew he was here."

"Didn't I say so, Captain? but ye wouldn't be
convinced," said Hunky Ben, leading his companion
into the full light of the opening and coming to a
halt close to the ledge above which the fugitive
lay. "Besides, Leather could never have found his
way here alone."

"You forget," returned Wilmot, with a peculiar
smile, « the monster might have shown him the way
or even have carried him hither."

"Ah, true," answered the scout, with solemn
gravity. " There 's somethin' in that."

Wilmot laughed.

],: .':tni

ll' .

272

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" What a splendid view," he said, going forward
to the opening— "and see, here is a bed of pine
brush. No doubt the cave must have been used as
a place of refuge by the Redskins in days gone by."
"Ay, an* by the pale-faces too," said the scout.
"Why, I 've had occasion to use it myself more than
once. And, as you truly obsarve, sir, there 's small
chance of findin' a man once he 's iu here. As well
run after a rabbit in his hole."

" Or search for a needle in a haystack," observed
the Captain, as he gazed with curious interest
around and above him. "Well, Ben, I give in.
You were right when you said there was lo proba-
bility of my finding any of the outlaws here."

"I'm ginerally right when I speak about what I
understand," returned the scout calmly. "So now,
Captain, if you 're satisfied, we may as well go an'
have a look at the other places I spoke of."

Assenting to this the two men left the place, but
Leather continued to lie perfectly still for a
considerable time after their footsteps had died
away. Then, gliding from his perch, he dropped on
the floor and ran to the opening where he saw the
troopers still riding about, but gradually going
farther and farther away from him. The scene was
not perhaps, as the scout had prophesied, quite " as
good as a play," but it certainly did become more
and more entertaining as the searchers receded and
distance lent enchantment to the view.

ii!l

'A*

"AND RAN TO THE OPENING. WHERE HE SAW -HE TROOPERS
STILL RIDING ABOUT."— Page 272.

■§-

le.'

Hill

Ol' THE SKA AND THE ROCKIES. 373

WlionatlMt the troops had disappeared, Shank
bo hought him of the food which llZky Den had
eo thoughtfully provided, and, sitting down on the
brush couch, devoted himself to breakfast with a
hearty appetite and a thanhful spirit

,.lf ITm'' ""T"' '^"""•'' '"'^'"« '"""fl^d him-
self that the outlaws had fairly escaped him. and

that Buck Tom was too ill to be moved, retired to a
cool g^ade m the forest and held a council of war
with the scout and Charlie Brooke.

"Now, Ben," he said, dismounting and seating
himself on a mossy bank, while a trooper took
charge of the horses and retired with them to a
neighbouring knoll, "it is quite certain that in the
present unsettled state of the district I must not
remain here idle. It is equally certain that it would
be sudden death to Buck Tom to move him in his
present condition, therefore some men must be left
behind to take care of him. Now, though I can ill
afford to spare any of mine, I feel that out of mere
humamty some sacrifice must be made, for we can-
not leave the poor fellow to starve."
"I can relieve you on that point," said the scout,
tor If you choose I am quite ready to remain."
And of course," interposed Charlie, "I feel it
my duty to remain with my old friend to the end."
Well, I expected yon to say something of this
sort. Now," said the captain, "how many men
Will you require ? "

W «''

t^mm ofliii

274

CIIAUUM TO Tii£ KEbCUE : A TAL£

"None at till, Captain," answered Ben decisively.

•• But what if these scoundrels should return to
their old haunt ? " said Wilmot.

"Let them come," returned the scout "Wi'
Mr. Brooke, an' Dick Darvall, an' three Win-
chesters, an' half-a-dozen six-shooters, I 'd engage to
hold the cave against a score o' such varmin. If
Mr. Brooke an' Dick are willin' to "

" I am quite willing, Ben, and I can answer for
my friend Dick, so don't let that trouble you."

'* Well, then, that is settled. I '11 go off at once,"
said the captain, rising and signing to the trooper to
bring up the horses. "But bear in remembrance,
Hunky Ben, that I hold you responsible for Buck
Tom. If ho recovers you must produce him."

The scout accepted the responsibility; the ar-
rangements were soon made ; " boots and saddles "
was sounded, and the troopers rode away leaving
Charlie Brooke, Dick Darvall, Buck Tom, and the
scout in possession of the outlaws' cave. .

0» THE SEA ANT. TIIK IIOCKIM.

CHAPTEK XXIV.

When tl,o soldier, woro safely away Hu„ky ficn
returned to the cave and brought LoaL down

Charlxe Drooke's love for his old schooI-foHow
and playmate seemed to become a new passi n noT
hat the wreck of life and limb presented by Shanl
had awakened within him the sensation of I
ound p.ty. And Shank's admiration fo Z
Ievot.o„ to Charlie increased tenfold now tha
the ternble barrier of self had been so IJ
ehminatcd from his own nature nn^ „ •

imt within him. ' "'' " "*"' "P'^''

knfw ai" ';°"r'r' *•'' '•y ""' ^'"'h came to
know and understand the other under the influence

of new hghts and feelings. But their thoughts Z
themselves, and their joy at meeting in such p c„Uar
arcumstanees. had to be repressed to sorexL"
the presence of their common friend HalphEiteo'
-to Buck Tom-for Charlie knew him o^lt ~
ddschoo. fellow, though to Leather he had Ca
S:wl"'""'^^^^^-«'''«^'"''^'-^edinth

ijt'Mj

S76

CUAKLIi!) TU TMK UKiiCUK : A TALK

I'B

The scout, (luring tho first interval of leisure on
tho previous day, had extracted tho ball without
much dittlculty from Buck's chest, through which
it had passed, and was found lying close under tho
skin at his back. Tho relief thus aftbrded and
rest obtained under the intluenco of some medicine
administered by Captain Wilmot had brightened the
poor follow up to some extent; and Leather, seeing
him look so nmch better on his return, began to
entertain some hopes of his recovery.

Buck himself had no such hope ; but, being a man
of strong will, he refused to let it bo seen in his
demeanour that he thought his case to bo hopeless.
Yet he did not act from bravado, or the slightest
tincture of that spirit which resolves to " die game."
The approach of death had indeed torn away the
veil and permitted him to see himself in his true
colours, but he did not at that time see Jesus to
be the Saviour of even "tho chief of sinners."
Therefore his hopelessness took tho form of silent
submission to the inevitable.

Of course Charlie Brooke spoke to him more than
once of the love of God in Christ, and of the dying
thief who had looked to Jesus on the cross and
was saved, but Buck only shook his head. One
afternoon in particular Charlie tried hard to remove
the poor man's perplexities.

" It 's all very well, Brooke," said Buck Tom, " and
very kind of you to interest yourself in me, but

OF rnr. uia and tiik hockibs.

277

tho love of Ood and tho flalvation of Christ art
not for mo. You don't know what a ainnor I
have boon, a rebel all my life— a// my life, mark
you. I would count it mean to come winning for
pardon now that tho gnmo is up. I denene hell— or
whatever sort o' puuiahmeut is due— an' 1 'm willinc
to take it"

"Kalph Kitson," said Rrooko impressively, "you
are a far greater sinner than you tliirik or admit."

"Perhaps I am," returned the outlaw sadly, and
with a slight expression of .surprise. '• Perhaps i
am." ho repeated. " Indeed I admit that you are
right, but—but your saying so is a somewhat strange
way to comfort a dying man. Is it not ?"

'• I am 7wt trying to comfort you. I am trying,
by God's grace, to convince you. You tell me that
you have been a rebel all your days ? "
"Yes; I admit it."

" There are still, it may be, a few days yet to run,
and you are determined, it seems, to spend these
in rebellion too — up to the very end ! "

" Nay, I do not say that. Have I not said that I
siihnit to whatever punishment is due ? Surely that
is not rebellion. I can do nothing now to make
up for a misspent life, so I am willing to accept
the consequences. Is not that submission to God—
at least as far as lies in my power ? "

" No ; it is not submission. Bear with me when I
say it is rebellion, still deeper rebellion than ever.

mtmt

j'jj'' '

PI t

nil

278

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : ^ TALE

God says to you, ' You havc destroyed yourself but
in me is your help,* He says, ' Though your sins bo
as scarlet they shall be \vhite as snow.' He says,
' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and yc a shall bo
saved,' and assures you that 'whoever will' may
come to Him, and that no one who cones shall
be cast out — yet in the face of all that you tell
me that the love of God and the salvation of Ckrist
are not for you ! Ealph, my friend, you think that if
you had a chance of living your life over again you
would do better and so deserve salvation. That
is exactly what God tells us we cannot do, and then
He tells us that Himself, in Jesus Christ, has pro-
vided salvation from sin for us, offers it as a free
unmerited gift; and immediately we dive to the
deepest depth of sin by deliberately refusing this
deliverance from sir unless we can somehow manage
to deserve it."

" I cannot see it," said the wounded man thought-
fully.

"Only God Himself, by His Holy Spirit, can
enable you to see it," said his companion ; and then,
in a low earnest voice, with eyes closed and his
hand on his friend's arm, he prayed that the outlaw
might be " born again."

Charlie Brooke was not one of those who make
long prayers, either " for a pretence " or otherwise.
Buck Tom smiled slightly when hi& friend stopped
at the end of this one sentence.

irself but
iir sius bo
He says,
. shall bo
iriir may
■nes shall

you tell
of Ckrist
ak that if
igaiii you
)ii. That
and then

has pro-
as a free
^e to the
ising this
N manage

thought-

Dirit, can
and then,
I and his
le outlaw

'ho make
)therwise.
I stopped

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 279

"Year prr.yer is not long-winded, anyhow?" he
said.

" True, Ralph, but it is comprehensive. It requires
a good deal of expounding and explaining to make
man imderstand what we say or think. The Al-
mighty needs none of that. Indeed He does not
need even the asking but He lids us ask, and that is
enough for me. I have seen enough of life to under-
stand the value of unquestioning obedience whether
one comprehends the reason of an order or not."

"Ay," returned Buck quickly, "when he who
gives the order has a right to command."

" That is so much a matter of course," rejoined
Charlie, " that I would not think of referring to it
while conversing with an intelligent man. By the
way— which name would you Hke to be called bv
Ralph or Buck ? " '

"It matters little to me," returned the outlaw
languidly, "and it won't matter to anybody long
I should prefer 'Ralph,' for it is not associated with
so much evil as the other, but you know our circum-
stances are peculiar just now, so, aU things considered,
I had better remain Buck Tom to the end of the
chapter. I'll answer to whichever name comes
first when the roll is called in the next world."

The conversation was interrupted at this point by
the entrance of Hunky Ben bearing a deer on his
lusty shoulders. He was followed by Dick Darvall.

"There," said the former, throwing the carcass on

■•■»

280

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

If--'

!<6

the floor, " I told ye I wouldn't be long o* briugin'
in somethin' for the pot."

"Ay, an' the way he shot it too," said the
seaman, laying aside his rifle, "would have made
even a monkey stare with astonishment. Has
Leather come back, by the way? I see'd him
goin' full sail through the woods when I went out
this mornin'."

" He has not yet returned," said Charlie. " When
I relieved him and sat down to watch by our friend
here, he said he felt so much better and stronger
that he would take his gun and see if he couldn't
find something for the pot. I advised him not to

trust his feelings too much, and not to go far, but

ah, here he comes to answer for himself."

As he spoke a step was heard outside, and next
moment Shank entered, carrying a brace of rabbits
which he flung down, and then threw himself on a
couch in a state of considerable exhaustion.

"There," said he, wiping the perspiration from
his forehead. " They 've cost me more trouble than
they're worth, for I'm quite done up. I had no
idea I had become so weak in the legs. Ealph, my
dear fellow," he added, forgetting himself for the
moment as he rose and went to his friend's side,
" I have more sympathy with you, now that I have
found out the extent of my own weakness. Do you
feel better?"

" Yes, old boy— much — much better."

0* bringhi'

said the
lave made
)nt. Has
see'd him

went out

" When
our friend
1 stronger
e couldn't
im not to
far, but —

, and next
of rabbits
aself on a
1.

:ion from
uble than
I had no
?alph, my
f for the
nd's side,
it I have
Do you

OP THR SRA AND THE UOCKIES. 281

" That 's all right. I 'm convinced that-hallo !
why, who shot the deer ? "

" Hunky Ben has beat you," said Charlie.

"Beat Leather!" exclaimed Darvall, "why he
beats all creation. I never see'd anytliing like it
since I went to sea."

"Since you came ashore, you should say. But
come, Dick," said Charhe, "let's hear about this
wonderful shooting. I'm sure it will amuse Buck
—unless he 's too wearied to listen."

" Let him talk," said the invalid.* " I like to hear
hmi."

Thus exhorted and encouraged the seaman re-
counted his day's exijerience.

" Well, you must know, messmates," said he, " that
I set sail alone this mornin', havin' in my pocket
the small compass I always carry about me-also
my bearin's before startin', so as I shouldn't go lost
m the woods— though that wouldn't be likely in
such an narrow inlet as this Traitor's Trap, to say
nothin' o' the landmarks alow and aloft of all sorts.
I carried a Winchester with me, because, not bein'
what you may call a crack shot, I thought it would
give me a better chance to have a lot o' resarve shots
in the locker, d' ye see ? I carried also a six-shooter,
as It might come handy, you know, if I fell in wi' a
Redskin or a bear, an' got to close quarters. Also
my cutlass, for I 've bin used to that aboard ship
when I was in the navy.

•tniKi

torn

■I

'■'♦,'■ i

I !

282

CUAELIE TO THE KE3CUE : A TALE

" Well, away I went—makin' sail down the valley
to begin with, Pn' then a long tack into the moun-
tains right in the wind's eye, that bein' the way to
get on the blind side o' game. I hadn't gone far
when up starts a bird o' some sort "

" What like was it ? " asked the scout.

"No more notion than the man in the moon,"
returned the sailor. "What wi' the flutter an'
scurry an' leaves, branches an' feathers— an' the
start — I see'd nothin' clear, an' I was so anxious to
git somethin' for the pot, that six shots went arter
it out o' the Winchester, before I was quite sure I 'd
begun to fire— for you must know I've lamed to
fire uncommon fast since I come to these parts.
Hows'ever, I hit nothin' "

"Not quite so bad as that, Dick," interrupted the
scout gravely.

"Well, that's true, but you better tell that part
of it yourself, Hunky, as you know more about it
than me."

" It wasn't of much consequence," said the scout,
betraying the slightest possible twinkle in his grey
eyes, " but Dick has a knack o' lettin' drive without
much regard to what 's in front of him. I happened
to be more in front of him than that bird when he
began to fire, an' the first shot hit my right leggin',
but by good luck only grazed the bark. Of course
I dropped behind a rock when the storm began and

«^ qai^^u i;iic*c, aiiU wiicu a iiai cuuiti J. iiaiiOO U, '

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 283

..11^' "If •!" '"'"°°'" ««d Dick, resuming the
narrative, "an- that haUoo waa more like the yeU of
a bull of Baahan than the c^^ of a mortal m^. I
made my heait jump into my throat an' stick there,

II t""' \ r'' '"'' '"'^'^ " "''°1« ^^i-
triDe at one shot "

"Six shots, Dick. Tell the exact truth an' don't
contradie' yourself," said Hunky.

" No, it wasn't," retorted the seaman stoutly « It
was arter the Jlnt shot that you gave the yell
Hows ever. 1 allow that the echoes kep' it goin' tili

haTthi ?,r f-""' ' "^ '^ y-' ~t-

that the halloom' an' flutterin' an' scurryin' an'
echom' an' thought of Eedskins jn my brain all
m«ed up wi- the blatterin' shote, cauled such a
rampus that I experienced considerable relief when
the smoke cleared away an' I see'd Hunky Ben in
front o' me laughin' iit to bu'st his sides."

"WeU, to make a long yam short, I joined
Hunky and aUowed him to lead, seein' that he un-
derstands the navigation hereaway better than me."
Come along.' says he. 'an' I'll let you have a
chance at a deer.'

•'■All right.' says I, an' away we went up one
hdl an down another-for aU the world as if we'
was walkm' over a heavy Atlantic swell-till we
come to a sort o' pasi among the rocks.

" 'I ;m goin' to leave you here to watch.' «»v, h«
• an' 1 'U go round by the futt o' the gully an''drive

384

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

the deer up. They'll pass quite close, so you've

■ >'

ily to-

"Hunky stopped short as he was speakin' and
flopped down as if he 'd bin shot— haulin' me along

wi* him.

"'Keep quiet,' says he, in a low voice. 'We're
in luck, an' don't need to drive. There's a deer
comin' up at this very minute— a young one. You '11
take it. I won't fire unless you miss.'

" You may be sure I kep' quiet, messmates, arter
that. I took just one peep, an' there, sure enough,
I saw a brown beast comin' up the pass. So we
kep' close as mice. There was a lot o' small bushes
not ten yards in front of us, which ended in a cut

a sort o' crack — in the hill-side, a hundred yards

or more from the place where we was crouchin'.

" ' Now,' whispers Hunky to "

" I never whisper ! " remarked the scout.
« Well, well ; he said, in a low v'ice to me, says
he, ' d' ye see that openin' in the bushes V * I do,'
says I. ' Well then,' says he, ' it 's about ten yards
ofif ; be ready to commence firin' when it comes to
that openin'.' ' I will,' says I. An', sure enough,
when the brown critter came for'id at a walk an'
stopped sudden wi' a look o* surprise as if it hadn't
expected to see me, bang went my Winchester four
times, like winkin', an' up went the deer four times
in the air, but niver a bit the worse was he. Snap
I went a fifth time ; but there was no shot, an' I

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

285

you vo

in' and
B along

'We're
a deer
You '11

IS, arter
mough,
So we
bushes
n a cut
i yards
in*.

ne, says
'I do/
n yards
3mes to
enough,
7alk an'
t hadn't
iter four
ir times
I. Snap
)t, an* I

gave a yell, for I know the cartridges was done. By
that time the critter had reached the crack in the
hill I told ye of, an' up in the air he went to clear
it, like an Indy-rubber ball. I felt a*most like to
fling my rifle at it in my rage, when bang ! went a
shot at my ear that all but deaf ned me, an' I wish
I may niver fire another shot or furl another
t*gallant-s'l if that deer didn't crumple up in the
air an* drop down stone dead— as dead as it now
lays there on the floor.'*

By the time Dick Darvall had ended his narrative
—which was much more extensive than our report
of it — steaks of the deer were sputtering in a fry-
ing-pan, and other preparations were being made
for a hearty meal, to which all the healthy men
did ample justice. Shank Leather did what he
could, and even Buck Tom made a feeble attempt
to join.

That night a strict watch was kept outside the
cave— each taking it by turns, for it was just
possible, though not probable, that the outlaws
might return to their old haunt. No one appeared,
however, and for the succeeding eight weeks the
party remained there undisturbed. Shank Leather
slowly but surely regaining strength; his friend.
Buck Tom, as slowly and surely losing it; while
Charlie, Dick, and Hunky Ben ranged the neighbour-
ing forest in order to procure food. Leather usually
remained in the cave to cook for and nurse his

III

'MP
11

-e

28G

CIIAKLIE TO THE llESCUE : A TALE

I! '

friend. It was pleasant work to Shank, for lovo
and pity wore at the foundation of the service.
Buck Tom perceived this and fully appreciated it
Perchance ho obtained some valuable light on
spiritual subjects from Shank's changed tone and
manner, which the logic of his friend Brooke had
failed to convey. Who can toll ?

OF THE SKA AND THE ROCKIKS.

287

CHAPTEE XXV.

SHOWS HOW THB SIAMAN WAS SENT ON A DELICATE MISSION
AMD HOW HE FAItED.

" Shank," said CharHe ono day as they >, ero sit-
ting in the sunshine near the outlaws' cave,
waiting for Dick and the scout to return to their
mid-day meal, "it seems to me that we may bo
detained a good while here, for we cannot leave
Ealph, and it is evident that the poor fellow won't

be able to travel for many a day "

" If ever," interposed Shank sorrowfully.
"Well, then, I think we must send down to
Bull's Ranch, to see if there are any letters for us.
I feel sure that there must be some, and the
question arises— who are we to send ? "

" You must not go, Charlie, whoever goes. You
are the only link in this mighty . wilderness, that
connects Ealph and me with home— and hope.
Weak and helpless as \ye are, we cannot afiford to
let you out of our sight."

" Well, but if I don't go I can't see my way
to asking the scout to go, for he alone thoroughly
understands the ways of the country and of^'the

288

CHAULIJ!; TU TIJE HmQUH '. A TALtl

III

If*

Indians — if any should chanco to como tliia way.
Besides, considering the pledge he is under to bo
accountable for Buck Tom, I doubt if he would
consent to go."

"The question is answered, then," said Shank,
" for the only other man is Dick Darvall."

" True ; and it strikes me that Dick will be very
glad to go," returned Charlie with a smile of pecu-
liar meaning.

" D' ye think he 's getting tired of us, Charlie ? "

" By no means. But you know he has a roving
disposition, and I think he has a sort of fondness
for Jackson — the boss of the ranch."

It was found when the question was put to him,
that Dick was quite ready to set out on the mission
required of him. He also admitted his fondness for
Roaring Bull !

"But what if you should lose your way?"
asked the scout. *-

" Find it again," was Dick's prompt reply.

" And what if you should be attacked by Indians?"

" Fight 'em, of course."

" But if they should be too many to fight ? "

" Why, clap on all sail an* give 'em a starn chase,
which is always a long one. For this purpose, how-
ever, I would have to command a good craft, so I 'd
expect you to lend me yours, Hunky Ben."

"What! my Polly?"

•'• Even so. Black Polly."

OF THF SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 289

The scout received this proposal gravely and
shook his head at Hrst. for ho was naturally fond of
his beautiful nmro. and, besides, doubted the
sailor's horsemanship, though ho had perfect faith
m his courage and discretion. Finally, however, he
gave in ; and accordingly, one fine morning at day-
break, Dick Barvall, mounted on Black Polly, and
armed with his favourite Winchester, revolvers, and
cutlass, "set saU" down Traitor's Trap to visit his
lady-love !

Of course ho knew that his business was to obtain
letters and gather news. But honest Dick DarvaU
could not conceal from himself that his main object
was— Mary Jackson 1

Somehow it has come to be supposed or assumed
that a jack-tar cannot ride. Possibly this may be
true of the class as a whole to which Jack belongs,
but it is not necessarily true of all, and it certainly
IS not true of some. Dick Darvall was an expert
horseman-though a sailor. He had learned to ride
when a boy, before going to sea, and his after-
habit of riding the " white horses " of the Norseman,
did not cause him to forget the art of managing the'
" buckers " of the American plains. To use his own
words, he felt as much at home on the hurricane
deck of a Spanish pony, as on the fo'c'sl of a man-
of-war, so that the scout's doubt of his capacity as a
rider was not well founded.
Tremendous was the bound of exultation which

! I

290

CHARLIE TO THE RlfiCUl : A TALt

our soainau folt, thon, when hu found liiui.self
on the mngniticcnt black marc, witli tho fnmh
morning air fanning his tomples, and tho bright
morning sun glinting through a cut in tho
eafltorn range.

Soon ho reached tlio lower end of tho valley,
which being steep ho had descended with tightened
rein. On reaching tho open prairio ho gave tho
niaro her head and went off with a wild whoop like
an arrow from a bow.

Black Tolly required neither spur nor whip.
She possessed that charmingly sensitive spirit which
seems to receive an electric shock from its rider's
lightest chirp. She was what you may call an anxi-
ously willing steed, yet possessed such a tender
mouth that she could bo pulled up as easily as she
could bo made to go. A mere child could have
ridden her, and Dick found in a few minutes that
a slight check was necessary to prevent her scour-
ing over the plains at racing speed. He restrained
her, therefore, to a grand canter, with many a stride
and bound interspersed, when such a thing as a rut
or a little bush come in her way.

With arched neck, glistenin^ .^, /oluminous
mane, and flowing tail she flew onward, hour after
hour, with many a playful shake of the head, and
an occasional snort, as though to say " This is mere
thil :Vs play ; do let me put on a spurt ! " *

It muy uot bo fair to credit such a noble creature

or Tu« BMA Aim ini kockifs. 991

with t«lki„„, or even thinkinK, <.!«..«, but Dick

J»«rvall cl«arly ,,nder»tood her to say »omothin« ol

tha .ort. for nftnr « wl.ile he «,duc«d ,pocd to «

kind of mdio-rubbor walk nnd patted I.or nock
iaying— '

"No no, las., you mustn't nso up your .troDgth
«t t^.0 bcgmning. WoVe got a longbh trip before
u», I oily, an it won't do to cinp on all soU at the
bogiiinui' of tlio voyage."

At Davi,l'„ store Dick stopped for a short time to
obtain a little rcfrcslmiont for himself and I'oUy
There ho found a group of cow-bojs discussing the
nllnirs of their neighbours, and enlarging noisily
on things in general under the brain-clcarin- and
reason-inspiring inlluonco of strong drink I To'theso
he recounted briefly the inci.lonts of the recent raid
of the troops into Traitor's Trap, and learned that
Jake the Flint had "drifted south into Mexico
where he was plyiug the trade of cattle and horse
stealer, with the usual accompaniments of that pro-
fcssion-fighting. murdering, drinking, etc." Some
of the deeds of this notorious outlaw, as narrated by
he cow-boy Crux, who happened to be there, made
the blood of Dick run cold-and Dick's blood was
not easily made to run otherwise than naturally by
any one-except, of course, by Mary Jackson, who
could at aU events make it run hot, also fast or slow

■ verv miiph n^ort».ri;«^ *-. i.— . ... '

.. ...v.^i-aiii^ tu aur own sweefc wiii I

But the seaman had no time to lose. He had

■I

292

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

i>. .. (

<tflk v^

PHI

still a long way to go, and the day was advancing.
Remounting Black Polly he was soon out again on
the prairie, sweeping over the grassy waves and
down *nto the ^^.ollov^s with a feeling of hilarious
jollity, that was born of high health, good-nature,
pleasant circumstances, and a free-and-easy mind.

Nothing worthy of particular notice occurred after
this to mar the pleasure of our sailor's "voyage"
over the prairie until he reached a belt of woodland,
through which for half a mile he had to travel.
Here he drew rein and began to traverse the bit of
forest at a quiet amble, partly to rest Polly, and
partly that he might more thoroughly enjoy the
woodland scenery through the umbrageous canopy
of which the sun was sending his slanting rays and
covering the sward with a confused chequer- work of
green and gold.

And here Dick Darvall became communicative ;
entered into conversation, so to speak, with himself.
After a few minutes, however, this did not prove a
sufficient outlet to his exuberant spirits.

"Come, Dick," he exclaimed, "give us a song.
Your voice ain't, perhaps, much to speak of as to
quality, but there 's no end of quantity. Strike up,
now ; what shall it be ? "

Without replying to the question he struck up
" Eule Britannia " in tones that did not justify his
disparaging remark as to quality. He reached the
other end of the wood and the end of the song at

».

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

293

the same time. "Britons," shouted he with un-
alterable determination —
"Kever, never, ne— ver, shall be— Eedskins ! "
This unnatural termination was not an intentional
variation. It was the result of a scene that sud-
denly burst upon his view.

Far away on the prairie two riders were seen
racing at what he would have styled a slant away
from him. They were going at a pace that suggested
fleeing for life.

"Eedskins— arter somethin*," murmured Dick, pull-
ing up, and shading his eyes from, the sun with his
right hand, as he gazed earnestly at the two riders.

"No— n— no. They're whites," he continued,
" one o' them a man ; t'other a woman. I can make
that out, anyhow."

As he spoke, the racing riders topped a far-off
knoll ; halted, and turned round as if to gaze back
towards the north— the direction from which they
had come. Then, wheeling round as if in greater
haste than ever, they continued their headlong gallop
and disappeared on the other side of the knoll.

Dick naturally turned towards the north to see,
if possible, what the two riders were flying from.
He was not kept long in doubt, for just then a band
of horsemen was seen topping the farthest ridge in
that direction, and bearing down on the belt of
woodland, along the edge of which they galloped
towards him.

' tMI

"if h

'»i* 1

tj|;:'|

mm' '

\*m*.

:;:! . .

'»«».. ■:*!

•mi*

294

CHARLIE TO THE HESCtJE : A TALE

< 1!

j!j'!|l

ijill

(■j .]

There was no mistaking who they were. The
war-whoop, sounding faint and shrill in the dis-
tance, and the wild gesticulations of the riders, told
the story at once to our seaman — two pale-faces,
pursued by a band of bloodthirsty savages !

Unskilled though he was in backwoods warfare,
Dick was not unfamiliar with war's alarms, nor was
he wanting in common sense. To side with the
weaker party was a natural tendency in our sea-
man. That the pursuers were red, and the pursued
white, strengthened the tendency, and the fact that
one of the latter was a woman settled the question.
Instantly Dick shook the reins, drove his unarmed
heels against the sides of Polly, and away they went
after the fugitives like a black thunderbolt, if there
be such artillery in nature !

A wild yell told him that he was seen.

"Howl away, ye land lubbers!" growled Dick.
" You *11 have to fill your sails wi' a stiffer breeze
than howlin' before ye overhaul this here craft."

Just then he reached the crest of a prairie billow,
whence he could see the fugitives still far ahead of
him. Suddenly a suspicion entered the seaman's
mind, which made his heart almost choke him.
What if this should be Mary Jackson and her
father ? Their relative size countenanced the idea,
for the woman seemed small and the man unusually
large.

In desperate haste Dick now urged on his gallant

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

296

steed to her best pace, and well did she justify the
praises that had been often bestowed oh her by
Hunky Ben. In a very brief space of time she
was close behind the fugitives, and Dick was now
convinced that his suspicions as to who they were
was right. He rode after them with divided feel-
ings—tremblingly anxious lest Mary should fall
into the hands of their ruthless foes^xultantly
glad that he had come there in time to fight, or die
if need be, in her defence.

Suddenly the male fugitive, who had only glanced
over his shoulder from time to time, pulled up,
wheeled round, and quickly raised his rifle.

" Hallo ! get on, man ; don't stop !" Dick yelled,
in a voice worthy of Bull himself. Taking off his
hat he waved it violently above his head. As he
spoke he saw the woman's arm flash upwards; a
puff of smoke followed, and a bullet whistled close
over his head.

Next moment the fugitives had turned and re-
sumed their headlong flight. A few more minutes
sufficed to bring Dick and the black mare alongside,
for the latter was still vigorous in wind and limb,
while the poor jaded animals which Mary and her
father rode were almost worn out by a prolonged
flight.

" Dick Darvall," exclaimed Jackson, as the former
rode up, " I never was gladder to see any man than
I am to see you this hour, though but for my Mary

','1

'i:i

!k'i

296

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

<<|i

1^,!!

I 'd surely have sent you to kingdom come. Her
ears are better than mine, you see. She recognised
the voice an' knocked up my rifle just as I pulled
the trigger. But I 'm afeared it 's too late, lad."

Th6 way in which the man said this, and the look
of his pale haggard face, sent a thrill to the heart
of Dick.

" What d'ye mean ? " he said, looking anxiously
at Mary, who with a set rigid expression on her pale
face was looking straight before her, and urging her
tired pony with switch and rein.

"I mean, lad, that we've but a poor chance to
reach the ranch wi' such knocked-up brutes as
these. Of course we can turn at bay an' kill as
many o' the red-devils as possible before it 's all
over wi' us, but what good would that do to Mary ?
If we could only check the varmins, there might be
some hope, but "

"Jackson ! " exclaimed the seaman, in a firm tone,
" I '11 do my best to check them. God bless you,
Mary—good-bye. Heave ahead, now, full swing ! "

As he spoke, Dick pulled up, while the others con-
tinued their headlong flight straight for the ranch,
which was by that time only a few miles distant.

Wheeling round, Dick cantered back to the knoll
over which they had just passed and halted on the
top of it. From this position he could see the band,
of about fifty Indians, careering towards him and
yelling with satisfaction, for they could also see

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

297

him— a solitary horseman— clear cut against the
bright sky.

Dick got ready his repeating rifle. We have
already mentioned the fact that he had learned to
load and fire this formidable weapon with great
rapidity, though he had signally failed in his attempts
to aim with it. Being well aware of his weakness,
he made up his mind in his present desperate ex-
tremity not to aim at all ! He had always felt that
the difficulty of getting the back and front sights
of the rifle to correspond with the object aimed at
was a slow, and, in his case, an impossible process.
He therefore resolved to simply point his weapon
and fire I

"Surely," he muttered to himself, even in that
trying moment, " surely I can't altogether miss a
whole bunch o' fifty men an' horses ! "

He waited until he thought the savages were
within long range, and then, elevating his piece a
little, fired.

The result justified his hopes. A horse fell dead
upon the plain, and its owner, although evidently
unwounded, was for the time hors de coinhat.
^ True to his plan, Dick kept up such a quick con-
tinuous fire, and made so much noise and smoke,
that it seemed as if a whole company of riflemen were
at work instead of one man, and several horses on
the plain testified to the success of the pointing as
compared with the aiming principle !

««( . -fei

IkM

298

ClIAnLiK TO THE RESCUE : A TALB

Of course the firo was partly returucil, and for a
time the atout seaman was under a pretty heavy
rain of bullets, but as the savages fired while gallop-
ing their aim was necessarily bad.

This fusillade had naturally the effect of checking
the advance of the Indians — especially when they
drew near to the reckless man, who, when the snap
of his rifle told that his last cartridge was off,
wheeled about and fled as fast as Black Polly could
lay hoofs to the plain.

And now he found the value of the trustworthy
qualities of his steed, for, instead of guiding her out
of the way of obstacles, he gave her her head, held
tight with his legs, and merely kept an eye on the
ground in front to be ready for any swerve, bound,
or leap, that might be impending. Thus his hands
were set free to re-charge the magazine of his rifle,
which he did with deliberate rapidity.

The truth is, that recldessness has a distinct
tendency to produce coolness. And there is no one
who can afford to be so deliberate, and of whom
other men are so much afraid, as the man who has
obviously made up his mind to die fighting.

While Dick was loading-up. Black Polly was
encouraged by voice and heel to do her best, and
her best was something to see and remember!
When the charging was finished, Dick drew rein
and trotted to the next knoll he encountered, from
which point he observed with some satisfaction

Olf THE SEA AKD tHE ROCKIES.

299

that the fugitives were still pressing on, and that
the distance between them and their foe had slightly
increased.

But the seaman had not much time to look or
think, for the band of Redskins was drawing near.
When they came within range he again opened
fire. But this time the savages divided, evidently
with the intention of getting on both sides of him,
and so distracting his attention. He perceived
their object at once, and reserved his fire until they
turned and with frantic yells made a simultaneous
dash on him right and left. Again he waited till
his enemies were close enough, and then opened
fire right and left alternately, while the Indians
found that they had outwitted themselves and
scarcely dared to fire lest the opposite bands should
hit each other.

Having expended the second supply of ammuni-
tion, Dick wheeled round and took to flight as before.
Of course the mare soon carried him out of range,
and again he had the satisfaction of observing that
the fugitives had increased their distance from the
foe.

"One more check o' this kind," thought Dick,
"and they'll be safe— I think."

While thus thinking he was diligently re-charg-
ing, and soon cantered to the top of a third knoll,

ranch was by that time dimly visible on the horizon,

■JMI

mi
•J

■"'i'!

300

CIIARLIR TO THE RESCUE I A TALE

•I

0|r

aud tho weary fugitives wore seen struggling to-
wards it. But Dick found, on halting and looking
back, that tho Indians had changed their tactics.
Instead of directing their attention to himself, as
on the previous occasions, they had spread out to
the right and left and had scattered, besides keep-
ing well out of range.

"What are the sinners up to now?" muttered
the seaman in some perplexity.

He soon perceived that they meant to go past
him altogether, if possible, and head towards the
fugitives in separate groups.

"Ay, but it's not possible!" exclaimed Dick,
answering his own thoughts as he turned swiftly,
and stretched out after his friends. Seeing this, the
savages tried to close in on him from both sides, but
their already winded ponies had no chance against
the grand Mexican mare, which having been con-
siderately handled during the day's journey was
comparatively fresh and in full vigour.

Shooting ahead he now resolved to join his friends,
and a feeling of triumph began to rise within his
breast as he saw them pushing steadily onward.
The ranch, however, was still at a considerable
distance, while the Indians were rapidly gaining
ground.

At that moment, to Dick's horror, the pony which

MOrxr .TqpVo'^'" Tnflo ofnTVlVkln/l oriA foil Ort«rJiv«r» i^-g

rider over its head. But the fair Mary, besides

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

801

ii-c

being a splendid horsewoman, was singularly agile
and quick in perception. For some time she had
anticipated the catastrophe, and, at the first indi-
cation of a stumble, leaped from the saddle and actu-
ally alighted on her feet so- yards ahead. Of
course she fell with some violence, but the leap
broke her fall, and probably saved her neck. She
sprang up instantly, and grasping the reins, tried to
raise her pony. It was too late. The faithful
creature was dead.

Jackson, pulling up, wheeled round and was back
at her side instantly. Almost at the same moment
Dick Darvall came up, threw the mare almost on
her haunches, leaped from the saddle, and ran to
Mary. As he did so, the crash of a pistol shot at
his ear almost deafened him, and a glance showed
him that Jackson had shot his horse, which fell
dead close to his daughter's pony.

" Kill your horse, Dick," he growled sharply, as
he exerted his great strength to the utmost, and
dragged the haunches of his own steed close to the
head of the other. " It 's our only chance."

Dick drew his revolver, and aimed at the heart
of Black Polly, but for the soul of him he could
not pull the trigger.

"No — I won't!" he cried, grasping the lasso
which always hung at the saddle-bow. "Hobble

4- n r\ 4'/-kmi/\ I /\r«n f "

There was such determination in the sailor's com-

')!t|l

' •'Hill «

If^

302

OIURLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALC

s'j

mand, that Jackson felt bound to obey. At the
same moment Dick bound the horse's hiiid-lcgs. Ho
fully understood what Jackson intended, and the
latter was as quick to perceive the seaman's drift.
Seizing the reins, while his friend caught hold of
the Insso, Dick cried, " Out o' the way, Mary I " and
with a migiity effort the two men threw the mare
on her side.

" First-rate ! " cried Jackson, while his companion
held down the animal's head. "It couldn't have
dropped better. Jump inside, Mary, an' lie down
flat behind your pony. Let Mary have the reins,
Dick. She knows how to hold its head down with-
out showin' herself."

Even while he was speaking, Jackson and Dick
leaped into the triangle of horses thus formed, and,
crouching low, disappeared from the sight of the
savages, who now came on yelling with triumph, for
they evidently thought themselves sure of their
victims by that time.

" Are ye a good shot, Dick 1 " asked Jackson, as
he gazed sternly at the approaching foe.

" No — abominably bad."

" Fire low then. You may catch the horses if ye
miss the Kedskins. Anyhow you '11 hit the ground
if you aim low, an' it's wonderful what execution a
bullet may do arter hittin' mother Earth."

"T r\a\rckf aim " rorvlip^ fT»o aailnr " Onlv n ivnafft

o' time. I just point straight an' fire away."

At the
gs. Ho
lud the
I's drift,
hold of
)r 1 " and
ho iiiare

Tipanion
I't have
ie down
10 reins,
vn with-

nd Dick
led, and,
; of the
mph, for
of their

ikson, as

ses if ye
} ground
cution a

OP THE SKA AND THE BOCKIES. 303

"Doit, then," growled Koaring Bull, wi(^ some-
thing that sounded like a short laugh.

At tho saino moment ho himself took quick aim
at the foe and fired ; the loading horse and man im-
mediately rolled upon the plain.

As both men were armed with repeating rifles
the fusillade was rapid, and most of tho savages, who
seldom fight well in tho open, wore repulsed. ' Ihit
Boveral of them, headed apparently by their chief,
rodo on fearlessly until within pistol-shot.

Then the two defenders of this peculiar fortress
sprang up with revolvers in each hand.

" Lie close, Mary," cried Jackson as he fired, and
the chiefs horse rolled over, almost reaching their
position with the impetus of the charge. Tlio chief
himself lay beside his horse, for another shot had
ended his career. As two other horses had fallen,
the rest of tho band wheeled aside and gaUoped away,'
followed by a brisk fire from the white men, who'
had again crouched behind their breast-work and
resumed their rifles.

Bullets were by that time flying over them in
considerable numbers, for those Indians who had
not charged with their chief had, after retiring to a
safe distance, taken to firing at long range. At this
work Dick's rifle and straight pointing were of little
use, so he reserved his fire for close quarters, while

Jackson, who was almost; a pprfcin chr^^■ «f

ranges, kept the savages from drawing nearer.

Ii»

301

OBAULIE TO

E : A TALE

f. 1

It '

€

•• Lio closer to the pony, Miss Mary/' said Dick, as a
shot passed closo over the Ki«"l '^"^^ whistled between
him ami his comrade. "Were you hurt in the fall?"

"No, not in the least. Don't you think they'll
hoar the firing' at the ranch, father?"

"Ay, lass, if there 's anybody to hear it, hut I sent
the boys out this niornin' to hunt up a bunch o'
steers that have drifted south among Wilson's cattle,
an' I fear they've not come back yet. Sec, the
reptiles are goin' to try it again ! "

As he spoke, the remnant of tlio Iledskins who
pressed homo the fust charge, having held a palaver,
induced the whole band to make another attempt,
but they were met with the same vigour as before
—a continuous volloy at long range, which emptied
several saddles, and then, whe;> the plucky men of
the tribe charged close, the white men stood up, as
before, and plied them with revolvers so rapidly
that they were fain to wheel aside and retire.

"Ammunition's gcttin* low," said Dick, in an
anxious tone.

"Then I'll waste no more," growled Jackson,
" but only fire when I *m safe to hit."

As he spoke a distant cheer was heard, and,
looking back, they saw, with a rebound of hope,
that a band of five or six cow-boys were coming
from the ranch and galloping full swing to the
rescue. Behind them, a few seconds later, appeared
a line of men who came on at a swinging trot.

lick, ana
between
le fall?"
: they '11

it [ sent
)uuch 0*
's cattle,
Soo, the

(ina who
palaver,
attempt,
L3 before
emptied
r men of
)cl up, as

1 rapidly
re.

k, in an

Jackson,

\rd, and,
of hope,
3 coming

2 to the
appeared

fOii.

'AMMUNITION'S GETTIN' LOW," SAID DICK.- PaKC 304.

ai
of
d
th

OP THE SEA AND THE B0CKIE3. 305

"Troopers. I do believe 1 " exclaimed Jackson

"Thank Godl" said Mary, with a deep sigh of
relief as she sat up to look at them. The troopers
gave a cheer of encouragement as they thundered
past to the attack, but the Indians did not await
the onset. At the first sight of the troops they fled
and in a few minutes pursued and pursuers alike'
were out of sight-hidden behind the prairie waves.

I can-t tell you how thankful I am that I didn't
shoot the mare," said Dick, as they unfastened the feet
of Black Polly and let her rise. "I 'd never have been
able to look Hunky Ben in the face again arter it."

WeU, I 'm not sorry you spared her," said Jack-
son ; "as for the two that are dead, they're no great
OSS-yet I've a kind o' regret too, for the poor
things served us well."

"Faithfully-even to death," added Mary, in a
sorrowful tone as she stooped to pat the neck of her
dead pony.

"Will you mount, Miss Maiy, and ride home?"
asked the sailor.

"Thank you_no, I'd rather walk with father
We have not far to go now."
"Then we'll all walk together," said Jackson
Dick threw Black Polly's bridle over his arm
and they all set off at a smart walk for the ranch
of Eoaring Bull, while the troops and cow-boys
chased thft 7?Pr1.qVinaKo«%,-v,f^ fi,- .,, , . . "^

^^" ""^^ mtu tuu mountains whence
they had come.

30C

CIIAULIE TO Tllli UESCUE: A TALE

CHAPTER XXVI.

TREATS Of VAUIOUS INTEIIBSTINO MATTERS, AND TKLL8 OF NEWS

FROM UOMB.

Dick Dauvall now learned that, owing to tlio
disturbed state of the country, Captain Wilmot
ha4 left a small body of men to occupy Bull's
ranch for a time ; hence their presence at the
critical moment when Jackson and his daughter
stood so much in need of their assistance.
He also found that there were two letters awaiting
the party at Traitor's Trap— one for Charles Brooke,
Esq, and one for Mr. S. Leather. They bore the
postmarks of the old country.

"You'd better not start back wi' them for three
or four days, Dick," said Jackson, when they were
seated that evening in the hall of the ranch, en-
joying a cup of coffee made by the fair hands of

Mary.

Dick shook his head. " I 'm acting post-boy just
now," said he, " an' it would ill become me to hang
off an' on here waitin' for a fair wind when I can
beat into port with a foul one."

« But if the Redskins is up all round, as some o'

i OF NEWS

ag to the
I Wilniot
py Bull's
36 at the
daughter
assistance.
i awaiting
es Brooke,
r bore the

L for three

they were

ranch, en-

r hands of

►st-boy just
ae to hang
^hen I can

as some o'

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 307

the boys have reported, it's not merely a foul wind
but a regular gale that's blowin', an' it would
puzzle you to beat into port in the teeth o' that"
''I thinlC remarked Mary, with an arch smile,

that Mr. Darvall had better 'lay to' until the
troops return to-night and report on the state of
the weather."

To this the gallant seaman declared that ho would
, ""'y *°° happy to east anchor altogether where
he was for the rest of his life, but that duty was
'lu y, and that, blow high or blow low, fair weather
or foul, duty had to be attended to.

"That's true, high-principled seaman!" re-
turned Jackson; "and what d'ye consider your
duty at the present time ? "

Dick° '^''"'"' ""^ ''"^'''' ° ^°^""' ^"" '•" '^^^'"'^

"Just so, but if you go slick off when Eedskins
are lampagin' around, you'll be sure to get nabbed

iTtters''' '"^ ^'''' ^"' '° ^"^ '" "'""■ ^^^^^' y^'

"It's my duty to try," said Dick. "Hows'ever,"
he added turning to Mary with a benignant smile,
1 11 take your advice. Miss Mary, an' wait for
the report o' the soldiers."

fv ^^'^ ,*' *'°°^"^ '''""'•^' *«•' ^«P"t was. that
tte Eedskms, after being pretty severely handled,

-^^„ .J ,eacn tiiu woods, where it would
have been useless to follow them so close upon

mi'

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pit

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/ I

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W IS

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308

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE: A TALE

I'i

night ; but it was their opinion that the band, which
had so nearly captured the boss of the ranch and
his daughter, was merely a marauding band, from
the south, of the same Indians who had previously
attacked the ranch, and that, as for the Indians of
the district, they believed them to be quite peace-
ably disposed.

"Which says a good deal for them," remarked
the officer in command of the troops, "when we
consider the provocation they receive from Buck
Tom, Jake the Flint, and such-like ruffians."

"The moon rises at ten to-night, Dick," said
Jackson, as they went together to the stables to
see that the horses were all right.

" That 's so," said the sailor, who noticed something
peculiar in the man's tone ; " what may be the reason
o* your reference to that bit of astronomy ? "

" Why, you see," returned the other, " post-boys in
these diggin's are used to travellin* night an* day.
An'.the troopers' report o' theweathermightbe worse.
You was sayin* somethin' about duty, wasn't you ? "
"Eight, Jackson," returned Dick, "but Black
Polly is not used to travellin' night an' day. If she
was, I'd take her back to-night, for moonlight is
good enough for a man that has twice taken soundin's
along the road, an' who 's well up in all the buoys,
beacons, an' landmarks, but it would be cruelty to

the good mare."

"Duty first, Dick, the mare second. You don't

id, which
Einoh and
md, from
ireviously
udians of
te peace-
remarked
when we
om Buck

Lck," said
stables to

something
the reason

Dst-boys in
it an* day.
itbe worse,
m'tyou?"
but Black
ay. If she
oonlight is
n soundin's
the buoys,
cruelty to

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 309

need to trouble about her. I'll lend ye one o' my
best horses an' take good care o' Black Polly till
Hunky Ben claims her."

"Thank 'ee, Jackson, but I'll not part wi' Black
Polly till I 've delivered her to her owner. I won't
accept your invite to stop here three or four days
but neither will I start off to-night. I 've too much
regard for the good mare to do that."

"Ho! ho!" thought his host, with an inward
chuckle, "it's not so much the mare as Mary that
you 've a regard for, my young sailor ! "

But in spite of his name the man was much
too polite to express this opinion aloud. He merely
said, « Well, Dick, you know that you 're welcome
to squat here as long or as short a time as you like
an' use the best o' my horses, if so disposed, or do
the postboy business on Black Polly. Do as ye like
wi' me an' mine, boy, for it's only fair to say that
but for your help this day my Mary an' me would
have bin done for."

They reached the stable as he was speaking,
and Jackson at once turned the conversation on the'
horses, thus preventing a reply from Dick-in regard
to which the latter was not sorry.

In the staU the form of Black Polly looked
grander than ever, for her head nearly touched the
roof as she raised it and turned a gleaming eye on
^^- visitors, at the same time uttering a slic^ht

f-V.o

Vt.X\i

You don't I whinny of expectation.

IHI

.lih

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iliri'

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310

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

"Why, I do believe she has transferred her
affections to you, Dick," said Jackson. "I never
heard her do that before except to Hunky Ben,
and she 's bin many a time in that stall."

"More likely th^' «he sxp:;cted Ben had come
to bid her good-nigi ' turned the sailor.

But the way in which the beautiful creature
received Dick's caresses induced Jackson to hold
to his opinion. It is more probable, however, that
some similarity of disposition between Dick Darvall
and Hunky Ben had commended itself to the mare,
which was, as much as many a human being, of an
amiable, loving disposition. She thoroughly ap-
preciated the tenderness and forbearance of her
master, and, more recently, of Dick. No doubt the
somewhat rough way in which she had been thrown
to the ground that day may have astonished her,
but it evidently had not soured her temper.

That night Dick did not see much of Mary, bhe
was far too busy attending to, and providing for, the
numerous guests at the ranch to be able to give
individual attention to any one in particular— even
had she been so disposed.

Buttercup of course lent able assistance to her
mistress in these domestic duties, and, despite her
own juvenility— we might perhaps say, in conse-
quence of it— gave Mary much valuable advice.

"Dat man's in a bad way," said she, as, with
her huge lips pouting earnestly, she examined the

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

311

'ed her
I never
cy Ben,

id come

creature
to hold
rer, that
Darvall
tie mare,
ig, of an
jhly ap-
I of her
oubt the
1 thrown
jhed her,

ry. bhe
g for, the
i to give
ar — even

ce to her
spite her
in conse-
Ivice.
as, with
lined the

contents of a big pot on the fire. The black maiden's
lips were so pronounced and expressive that they
might almost be said to constitute her face !

" What man ? " asked Mary, who, with her sleeves
tucked up to the elbows, was manipulating certain
proportions of flour, water, and butter.

" Why, Dick, ob course. He 's de only man wuth
speakin' about."

Mary blushed a little in spite of herself, and
laughed hilariously as she replied —

"Dear me. Butter, I didn't think he had made
such a deep impression on you."

" 'Snot on'y on me he 's made a 'mpress'n," returned
the maid, carelessly. " He makes de same 'mpress'n
on eberybody."

" How d' you know ? " asked Mary.

" 'Cause I see," answered the maid.

She turned her eyes on her mistress as she spoke,
and immediately a transformation scene was pre-
sented. The yes dwindled into slits as the cheeks
rose, and the serious pout became a smile so magni-
ficent that ivory teeth and scarlet gums set in ebony
alone met the gaze of the beholder.

" Buttercup," exclaimed Mary, stamping her little
foot firmly, " it 's boiling over ! "

She was right. Teeth and gums vanished. The
eyes returned, so did the pout, and the pot was
whipped ofi the fire in a twinkling, but not before a
mighty hiss was heard and the head of the black

nil I

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ill

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312

CIIiUlLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

maiden was involved in a cloud of steam and
ashes !

"I told you sol" cried Mary, quoting from an
ancient MS.

"No, you di'u't," retorted her servitor, speaking
from the depths of her own consciousness.

Wo refrain from following the conversation beyond
this point, as it became culinary and flat.

Next day Dick Darvall, refreshed — and, owing
to some quite inexplicable influences, enlivened —
mounted Black Polly and started ofl" alone for
Trjiitor's Trap, leaving his heart and a reputation
for cool pluck behind him.

Of course he was particularly watchful and cir-
cumspect on the way up, but saw nothing to call
for a further display of either pluck or coolness.
On arriving at the cave he found his friends there
much as he had left them. Buck Tom, owing to
the skilled attentions which he had received from
that amateur surgeon, Hunky Ben, and a long re-
freshing sleep— the result of partial relief from pain
— was a good deal better ; and poor Leather, cheered
by the hope thus raised of his friend's recovery,
was himself considerably improved in health and
spirits.

Fortunately for his own peace of mind, it never
seemed to occur to Shank that a return to health
meant, for Buck Tom^ duath on the "allows. Per-
haps his own illness had weakened Shank's powers

im and

from an

peaking

beyond

, owing
veimd —
one for
putation

md cir-
to call
oolness.
Is there
wing to
3d from
^ong re-
}m pain
cheered
Bcovery,
Ith and

t never

health

?. Per-

powers

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 313

Of thought. It may be, his naturally thoughtless
disposition helped to render him oblivious of the
solemn fact, and no one was cruel enough to remind
him of it. But Buck himself never forgot it; yet
ho betrayed no symptom of despondency, neither
did ho indicate any degree of hope. He was a man
of resolute purpose, and liad the power of subduing
—at least of absolutely concealing-his feelings. To
those who nursed him he seemed to be in a state of
gentle, colourless resignation.

Charlie Brooke and Hunky Ben, having been out
together, had returned well laden with game; and
Leather was busy at the fire preparing a savoury
mess of the same for his sick friend when Dick
arrived.

"News from the old country 1" he exclaimed,
holding up the letters on entering the cave. " Two
for Charles Brooke, Esq., and one for Mister
Leather ! "

" They might have been more polite to me. Hand
It here," said the latter, endeavouring to conceal
under a jest his excitement at the sight of a letter
from home ; for his wild life had cut him off from
communication for a very long time.

" One of mine is from old Jacob Crossley," said
Charlie, tearing the letter open with eager interest.

^ An' mine is from sister May," exclaimed Shank.

If any one had observed Buck Tom at that
moment, he would have seen that the outlaw started

!l B'

111 It

314

CIIAIILIE TO TIIK RKSCUE : A TALE

•C

*^ ft
•^ J

«r

and rose almost up on one elbow, while a deep flush
suffused his bronzed countenance. The action and
the flush were only nionicntary, however. Ho sank
down again and turned his face to the wall.

Charlie also started and looked at Shank when
the name of May was mentioned, and the eye of
Ilunky Ben was on him at the moment. But
Ilunky of course could not interpret the start. Ho
knew little of our hero's past history — nothing what-
ever about May. Being a western scout, no line of
his mahogany-looking face indicated that the start
aroused a thought of any kind.

While the recipients of the letters were busily
perusing their missives, Dick Darvall gave the scout
a brief outline of his expedition to the ranch, re-
serving the graphic narration of incidents to a more
fitting occasion, when all the party could listen.

" Dick, you 're a trump," said the scout.

" I 'm a lucky fellow, anyhow," returned Dick.

" In very truth ye are, lad, to escape from such a
big bunch o' Kedskins without a scratch ; why "

" Pooh ! " interrupted the sailor, " that 's not the
luck I'm thinkin' of. Havin' overhauled Roariu'
Bull an' his little girl in time to help rescue them,
that 's what I call luck— d'ee see ? "

" Yes, I see," was Hunky Ben's laconic reply.

Perhaps the scout saw more than was intended,
for he probably observed the glad cntnusiasm witii
which the bold seaman mentioned Roaring Bull's

OF TIIK SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

310

iop flush
tion and
Flo sank

ik when
3 eye of
it. But
\vt. Ho
ng what-
line of
:he start

e busily
}hG scout
inch, ro-

a more
}ten.

Dick,
n such a

^hy ■'

not tho

1 Roarin'
ue them,

Bply.
intended,

ng Tiull's

littlo girl. Wo cannot toll. His wooden counton-
anco betrayed no sign, and he may have seen no-
thing; but ho was a western scout, and accustomed
to take particular note of tho snuillcst signs of the
wilderness.

" Capital-first-rato I " exclaimed Charlie, looking
up from his letter when he had finished it.

"Just what I was going to say, or something of
tho same sort," said Leather, as ho folded his epistle.

"Then there's nothing but good newsl" said
Charlie.

" Nothing. I suppose it 's the same with you, to
judge from your looks." returned Shank.

" Exactly. Perhaps." said Charlie, " it may interest
you all to hear my letter. There are no secrets in
It, and the gentleman who writes it is a jolly old
fellow, Jacob Crossley by name. You know him,
Dick, as the owner of tho IFalrm, though you 'vo'
never seen him."

"All right. I remember; fire away," said Dick.

" It is dated from his office in London," continued
our hero, "and runs thus:—

" M^ DEAK BR00KE,~We Were all very glad to
hear of your safe arrival in New York, and hope
that long before this reaches your hand you will
have found poor Leather and got him to some place
of comfort, where he may recover the health that
we have bcun given to understand he has lost.

" I chanced to be down at Sealford visiting your

M
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III

III!

lit*

I (I

8ie

CnABLIE TO TITR nKSCUR : A TALI

''*%]

mother when your letter arrived ; hence my know-
ledge of its coiitcuta. Mrs. Leather and l»er davi^'liter
May were thou as usual. By the way, what a
pretty girl Muy has bcconio 1 I remember her such
a rumpled up, dress anyliow, harum-scarum sort of

girl, that 1 find it hard to ludiove the tall, grace-
ful, modest creature I meet with now is the same
person I Captain Stride says she is the finest craft
he ever saw, except that wonderful * Maggie,' about
whose opinions and sayings ho tells us so much.

"But this is a double digression. To return:
yoiir letter of course gave us all great pleasure. It
also gave your mother and May some anxiety, where
it tells of the necessity of your going up to that
wild-west place, Traitor's Trap, where poor Leather
is laid up. Take care of yourself, my dear boy, for

1 *m told that the red savages are still given to those
roasting, scalping, and other torturing that one has
read of in the pages of Fenimoro Cooper.

" By the way, before I forget it, let me say, in
reference to the enclosed bill, it is a loan which I
have obtained for Leather, at very moderate interest,
and when more is required more can be obtained on
the same terms. Let him understand this, for I
don't wish that he should think, on the one hand,
that he is drawing on his mother's slender resources,
or, on the other hand, that he is under obligation to
anv one= I send the bill because I feel ouite sure
that you started on this expedition with too little.

ill

OP TIIK 8EA AND TlfK ROCKFES.

917

y know-
laiightor
what a
her Huch
I sort of
11, graco-
,ho sainu
icst cnift
e/ about
luch.

return :

nire. It

y, where

to that

Leather

boy, for

. to those

one has

3 say, in
which I
interest,
;ained on
lis, for I
ne hand,
esources,
gation to
uite sure
ioo little.

It is drawn in your namo, and I think you will ho
able to cash it at any civilised town—oven in the
far west !

"Talking of Captain Stiido-wrrw I talking of
Inin ? Well, no matter. As ho is past work now
but thinks himself very far indeed from that con-'
dition. I have prevailed on him to accept a now and
peculiar post arising out of the curious evolutions
of the firm of Withers and Co. which satisfies tho
firm completely and suits tho captain to a T. Ah
tho work can bo done anywhere, a residence has
been taken for him in Sealford, mi.l-way between
that of your mother and Mrs. Leather, so that ho
and his wife and little girl can run into either port
when so disposed. As Mrs. L, however (to use his
own phraseology), is almost always to bo found at
anchor in th ^ Brooke harbour, ho usually kills both
with the same visit. I have not been to see him
yet in tho new abode, and do not know what the
celebrated Maggie thinks of it.

" When you find Leather, poor fellow, tell him
that his mother and sister are very well The
fonner is indefatigable in knitting those hundreds
of socks and stockings for poor people, about which
there has been, and still is, and I think ^ver will be
so much myetery. The person who bu .horn from
her must be very deep as well as honest, for no
inquiries ever throw anv fresh hahh nn f i,« .,.u:.„.
and he~or she, whichever it is-pays regularly as

II'

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318

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

the worsted work is delivered — so I 'm told ! It is
a little old lady who pays — but I've reason to believe
that she *s only a go-between — some agent of a so-
ciety for providing cheap clothing for the poor, I
fancy, which the poor stand very much in need of,
poor things I Your good mother helps in this work
— at least so I am told, but I 'm not much up in
in the details of it yet. I mean to run down to see
them in a few days and hear all about it.

"Stride, I forgot to say, is allowed to smoke a
pipe in your mother's parlour when he pays her a
visit. This is so like her amiability, for she hates
tobacco as much as I do. I ventured on a similarly
amiable experiment one day when the worthy Cap-
tain dined with me, but the result was so serious
that I have not ventured to repeat it. You remem-
ber my worthy housekeeper, Mrs. Bland ? Well, she
kicked over the traces and became quite unmanage-
able. I had given Stride leave to smoke after dessert,
because I had a sort of idea that he could not digest
his food without a pipe. You know my feelings
with regard to young fellows who try to emulate
chimneys, so you can understand that my allowing
the Captain to indulge was no relaxation of my
principles, but was the result of a strong objection I
had to spoil the dinner of a man who was somewhat
older than myself by cramming my principles down
his throat

" But the moment that Mrs. Bland entered I knew

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

319

by the glance of her eye, as well as by the sniff of
her nose, that a storm was brewing up— as Stride
puts it— and I was not wrong. The storm burst
upon me that evening. It 's impossible, and might
be tedious, to give you all the conversation that we
had after Stride had gone, but the upshot was that
she gave me warning.

" • But, my good woman,' I began

" ' It 's of no use good-womaning me, Mr. Crossley,'
said she, ' I couldn't exist in a 'ouse w'ere smokin'
is allowed. My dear father died of smokin'-at
least, if he didn't, smokin' must 'ave 'ad somethink
to do with it, for after the dear man was gone
a pipe an' a plug of the nasty stuff was found under
'is piller, so I can't stand it; an' what's more, Mr.
Crossley, I won't stand it ! Just think, sir, 'ow silly
it is to put a bit of clay in your mouth an' draw
smoke through it, an' then to spit it out again as if
you didn't like it ; as no more no one does on begin-
nin' it, for boys only smoke to look like men, an'
men only smoke because they've got up the 'abit
an' can't 'elp it. W'y, sir, you may git up any 'abit.
You may git the 'abit of walkin' on your 'ands
an' shakin' your legs in the hair if you was to per-
severe long enough, but that would only prove you a
fool fit for a circus or a lunatic asylum. You never
see the hanimals smokin'. They knows better.
Just fancy I what would you think if you saw the
cab 'osses all a-settin' on their tails in the rank

II: 'i

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^lilr-

320

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

'fie

smokin' pipes an' cigars ! What would you think
of a 'oss w'en 'is cabby cried, " Gee-up, there 's a fare
a 'owlin' for us," an' that 'oss would say, " Hall right,
cabby, just 'old on, hold man, till I finish my pipe" ?
No, Mr. Crosisley, no, I '

"'But, my good soull' I burst in here, 'do
listen *

"'No use good-soulin' me, Mr. Crossley. I tell
you I won't stand it. My dear father died of it, an'
I can't stand it '

" ' I hate it, Mrs. Bland, myself ! '

*\ I shouted this interruption in such a loud fierce
tone that the good woman stopped and looked at
me in surprise.

" ' Yes, Mrs. Bland,' I continued, in the same tone,
*I detest smoking. You know I always did, but
now more than ever, for your reasoning has con-
vinced me that there are some evil consequences of
smoking which are almost worse than smoking itself!
Eest assured that never again shall the smell of the
noxious weed defile the walls of this house/

" ' Lauk, sir ! ' said Mrs. Bland.

" I had subdued her, Charlie, by giving in with
dignity. I shall try the same role next breeze that
threatens.

" I almost feel that I owe you an apology for the
length of this epistle. Let me conclude by urging
yju to bring poor Leather home, strong and well.
Tell him from me that there is a vacant situation in

OP THE SEA AND THE ItOCKIES. 30 1

ul ^Zt '^''I'^'!'""' Co. which will just suit him.
He 8hall have it when he returns-if God spares me
to see h.a again But I 'm getting old, Charlie, and
we know not what a day may bring forth."

"A kmd— a very kind letter," said Leather
earnestly, when his friend had finished readin.

p^ H' ^' ''"''' "' " ^' ^'^^ y°»' own father
B«,oke" remarked Buck Tom, who had been hV
ten ng m tently. « Have you known him long ? "
Not long. Only since the time that he gave

but the ht tie I have seen of him has aroused in me

a teelmg of strong regard."
"My sister May refers to him here," said Leather

wr^ a peouhar smile, as he re-opened his letted
The greater part of this teUs chiefly of private aifair,

which would not interest any of you, but here i a

passage which forms a sort of commentary on what

you have just heard:—

"'You will be amused to hear,' she writes, 'that
good Captain Stride has come to live in Sedford
Kind old Mr. Crossley has given him some sort o^
work connected with Withers and Co.'s house which
i can neither understand nor describe. Indeed

am convinced it is merely work got up on purpose'
by Ml. Crossley as an excuse for giving his old

lie

322

CHAULI£ TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

;ii

j^PH '%>

III

for further duty, and tlie Captain will never admit
himself to be in that condition till he is dying.
Old Jacob Crossley — as you used to call him —
thinks himself a very sagacious and " deep " man, but
in truth there never was a simpler or more trans-
parent one. He thinks that we know nothing
about who it is that sends the old lady to buy up
all the worsted-work that mother makes, but we
know perfectly well that it is himself, and dear
, mother could never have gone on working with
satisfaction and receiving the money for it all if we
^ad not found out that he buys it for our fisher-
men, who are said really to be very much in need
of the things she makes.

" * The dear old man is always doing something
kind and considerate in a sly way, under the
impression that nobody notices. He little knows
the power of woman's observation! By the way,
that reminds me that he is not ignorant of woman's
powers in other ways. We heard yesterday that
his old and faithful — though rather trying — house-
keeper had quarrelled with him about smoking ! We
were greatly surprised, for we knew that the old
gentleman is not, and never was., a smoker. She
threatened to leave, but we have since heard, I am
glad to say, that they have made it up ! * "

"H'm! there's food for meditation in all that,"
said Dick Darvall, as he knocked the ashes out of
his pipe and put it in his vest pocket.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

er admit
is dying.
11 him—
man, but
TO trans-
nothing
buy up
, but we
md dear
ing with
all if we
ar fisher-
in need

omething
ider the
ie knows
the way,
woman's
day that
; — house-
ing! We
; the old
cer. She
ird, I am

all that,"
es out of

323

CHAPTER XXVII.

HCNKT BEN AND CHAULIK OKT B.VOKD THKIB DEPTH
AND BUCK TOM QETB BEYOND RECALL.

iraitors Trap one day Charlie Brooke and Hunkv
Ben came to a halt on the summit of an emlente
that ^commanded a wide view over the snrronnr;

hiJS? ^'°"r P^'"'' ^'"'" '"'d B'^o'^e, leaning
his rifle against a tree and momiting on a piece of
rock the better to take in the beautiful project o
woodland river, and lake. "When I tUnk of the
swannsofpoor folk in the old countiy who don
own a foot of land, have little to eat. and on y rl

ptntTh ":,' '"^ *° ''""S *'^«- -' "er'e Tnd
P ant them down where God has spread His
b essmgs so bountifully, where there is never lack

thJfltsit'tif '!f ' """^ ^"°"^'' '^^'«'" -'--<!
"■rthowtsonlylead-tTp-lT—^S

824

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

.« I

I '

the wilderness, a man can't git all the information
needful to larn him about things in the old world.
Dear, dear, it do seem strange to me that any man
should choose to starve in the cities when there's
the free wilderness to roam about in. I mind havin'
a palaver once wi' a stove-up man when I was
ranchin' down in Kansas on the Indian Territory
Line. Screw was his name, an' a real kind-
hearted fellow he was too— only he couldn't keep
his hand off that curse o' mankind, the bottle. I
mentioned to him my puzzlements about this
^natter, an' he up fist an' come down on the table
wi' a crack that made the glasses bounce as if they 'd
all come alive, an' caused a plate o' mush in front
of him to spread itself all over the place— but he
cared nothin' for that, he was so riled up by the
thowts my obsarvation had shook up.

"'Hunky Ben,' says he, glowerin' at me like a
bull wi' the measles, ' the reason we stay there an*
don't come out here or go to the other parts o' God's
green arth is 'cause we can't help ourselves an' don't
know how — or what — don't know nothin' in fact ! '

" * That 's a busted-up state o' ignorance, no doubt,'
said I, in a soothin' sort o' way, for I see'd the
man was riled pretty bad by ancient memories, an'
looked gittin* waxier. He wore a black eye, too,
caught in a free fight the night before, which didn't
improve his looks. ' You said we just now,' says I.
* Was you one o' them ? '

)rmation
d world,
my man
tt there's
id haviii'
1 I was
[erritory
il kiud-
n't keep
ottle. I
3ut this
,he table
if they'd
in front
—but he
3 by the

le like a
there an'
I o' God's
an' don't
a fact ! '
10 doubt/
3ee'd the
ories, an*
eye, too,
eh didn't
V,* says I.

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 325

"'Of course I was,' says he, tamin' down a little,
' an' I 'd bin one o' them yet— if not food for worms
by this time— if it hadn't bin for a dook as took
pity on me.'
" ' What 's a dook ? ' says I.
"'A dook?' says he. 'Why, he's a dooTc, you
know ; a sort o' markis— somewheres between a lord
an' a king. I don't know zackly where, an' hang
me if I care ; but they 're a bad lot, are some o' them
docks- rich as Pharaoh, king o' J'rus'lem, an' hard
as nails— though I 'm bound for to say they ain't all
alike. Some on 'em 's no better nor costermongers,
others are men\ men what keeps in mind that the
same God made us all an' will call us all to the
same account, an' that the same kind o' worms '11
finish us all off at last. But this dook as took pity
on me was a true blue. He wasn't one o' the hard
sort as didn't care a rush for us so long as his own
stummick was full. Neether was he one o' the
butter-mouths as dursen't say bo to a goose. He
spoke out to me like a man, an' he knew well
enough that I 'd bin born in the London slums, an'
that my daddy had bin born there before me, an'
that my mother had caught her death o' cold
through havin' to pawn her only pair o' boots to
pay my school fees an' then walk barefutt to the
court in a winter day to answer for not sendin' her
boy to the board school— Aer send me to school !—
she might as well have tried to send daddy himself;

1=^ ■

iMR

326

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

ill

an' him out o' work, too, an' all on us starvin'. My
dook, when he hoar about it a'most bust wi' passion.
I hear 'im arterwards talkin' to a overseer, or some-
body, "confound it," says he— no, not quite that, for
my dook ho never swore, only he said somethin'
pretty stiff—" these people are starvin'," says he, " an'
pawnin' their things for food to keep 'em alive, an'
they can't git work nohow," says he, " an' yet you
worry them out o' body an' soul for school fees ! " ' I
didn't hear no more, for the overseer smoothed 'im
down somehows. But that dook — that good man,
Hunky Ben, paid my passage to Ameriky, an' sent
me off wi' his blessin' an' a Bible. Unfortnitly I
took a bottle wi' me, an when I got to the other
side I got hold of another bottle, an' another — an'
there stands the last of 'em.*

"An' wi' that, Mr. Brooke, he fetched the bottle
in front of him such a crack wi* his fist as sent it
all to smash against the opposite wall.

" ' Well done, Screw 1 ' cried the boy at the bar,
laughin' j * have another bottle ? '

" Poor Screw smiled in a sheepish way, for the
rile was out of him by that time, an', says he, * Well,
I don't mind if I do. A shot like that deserves
another ! '

" Ah me 1 " continued the scout, " it do take the
manhood out of a fellow, that drink. Even when
his indignation 's roused and he tries to shake it off,
he can't do it."

OF TUB SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

327

a'. My

passion,
r some-
that, for
►methin'
he, "an'
live, an'
yet you
es!" 'I
bed 'im
)d man,
an' sent
bnitly I
le other
ler — an'

3 bottle
sent it

-he bar,

for the
, * Well,

ieserves

ike the
1 when
e it off,

" Well do I know that, Ben. It is only God who
can help a man in such a case."

The scout gravely shook liia head. " Seems to
me, Mr. Brooke, that there 'a a screw loose some-
wheres in our theology, for I 've heard parsons as well
ns you say that— as if the Almiglity condescended
to help us only when we 're in bad straits. Now,
though I 'm but a scout and pretend to no book
larnin', it comes in strong upon me that if God made
us an' measures our movements, an' gives us every
beat o' the pulse, an' counts the very hairs of our
heads, we stand in need of His help in every case
and at all times ; that we can't save ourselves from
mischief under any circumstances, great or small,
without Him."

"I have thought of that too, sometimes," said
Charlie, sitting down on the rock beside his com-
panion, and looking at him in some perplexity, " but
does not the view you take savour somewhat of
fatalism, and seek to free us from responsibility in
regard to what we do ? "

" It don't seem so to me," replied the scout, " I 'm
not speakin', you see, so much of doin' as of escapin'.
No doubt we are perfectly free to idll, but it don't
follow that we are free to act. I 'm quite free to
will to cut my leg off or to let it stay on ; an' if I
carry out my will an' do it, why, I 'm quite free
there too— an' also responsible. But I ain't free to
sew it on again however much I may will to do so

328

CIIAIirJE TO THE RE8CUR: A TALE

iii

8m:

— loastwiso if I do it won't stick. The consekinces
o' my docd I must boar, but who will deny that
the Almighty coxild grow on another leg if lie
chose ? Why, some ceoters he doca allow to get
rid of a limb or two, an' grow new ones I So, you
see, I 'm responsible for my deeds, but, at the same
time, I must look to God for escape from the con-
sekinces, if Ho sees at to let me escape. A man,
bein' free, may drink himself into a drunkard, but
ho 'a not free to cure himself. He can't do it. The
demon Crave has got him by the throat, forces him
to open his mouth, and pours the fiery poison down.
The thing that he is free to do is to will. Ho may,
if he chooses, call upon God the Saviour to help
him ; an' my own belief is that no man ever made
such a call in vain."

" How, if that bo so, are wo to account for the
failure of those who try, honestly strive, struggle,
and agonise, yet obviously fail ? "

" It 's not for the like o' me, Mr. Brooke, to ex-
pound the outs an' ins o' all mysteries. Yet I will
p'int out that you, what they call, beg the question
when you say that such people 'honestly* strive.
If a man tries to unlock a door with all his might
and main, heart and soul, honestly tries, by turnin'
the key the wrong way, he '11 strive till doomsday
without openin' the door ! It 's my opinion that a
man may get into difficulties of bis own free-will. He
can get out of them only by applyin' to his Maker."

nsekincea
leny tlint
5g if Ho
)w to get

So, you
tho same
tho con-

A man,
kard, but

it. The
vcQB him
on down.
Ho may,

to help
rev made

' for the
struggle,

:e, to ex-
et I will
question
* strive,
is might
Y turnin'
oomsday
2 that a
will. He
Maker."

OF THE 8EA AND TIIR ROCKIES. S39

During tho latter part of this conversation tho
hunters had risen and were making their way
through the trackless woods, when the ocout stopped
suddenly and gazed for a few seconds intently at
the ground. Then he kneeled and began to examine
the spot with great care. "A footprint here," he
Baid, "that tolls of recent visitors."

"Friends, Ben, or foes?" asked ou- hero, also
gomg on his knees to examine tho marks " WoP
now, I see only a pressed blade or two of grass, but
nothing the least like a footprint. It puzzles me
more than I can tell how you scouts seem so sure
about invisible marks."

"Truly, if they was invisible you would have
reason for surprise, but my wonder is that you don't
see them. Any child in wood-craft might read
them. See, here is the edge o' the right futt making
a famt impression where the ground is soft~an' the
heel ; surely ye see the heel ! "

"A small hollow I do see, but as to its being a
heel.print I could not pronounce on that. Has it
been made lately, think you 1 "

"Ay, last night or this morning at latest; and it
was made by the futt of Jake the Flint. I know it
well, for I 've had to track him more than once an'
would spot it among a thousand."

" If Jake is in the neighbourhood, wouldn't it be
well to return to the cave ? He and some of his
gang might attack it in our absence."

\iif

330

CiiABLIE TO THE S£SCUC : A TALI

if!

" No fear o* that," replied the acout, rising from
hifl inspection, the " futt p'ints away from the cavo.
I should say that the Flint has bin there dm in' the
night, an' found that we kep' too sharp a look-out
to be caught sleepin'. Where ho went to arter that
no one can tell, but we can hoof it an' see. Like
enough he went to spy us out alone, an' then re-
turned to his comrades."

So saying, the scout "hoofed it" through the
woods at a pace that tested Charlie Brooke's powers
of endurance, exceptionally good though they were.
,Af>ar a march of about four miles in comparative
silence they were conducted by the footprints to
an open space in the midst of dense thicket,
where the fresh ashes of a camp fire indicated that
a party had spent some time.

"Just so. They came to see what was up and
what could be done, found that nothin' partiklar was
up an' nothin' at all could be done, so off they go,
mounted, to fish in other waters. Just as well for us."

" But not so well for the fish in the other waters,"
remarked Charlie.

"True, but wo can't help that. Come, we may
as well return now."

While Charlie and the scout were thus following
the trail, Buck Tom, lying in the cave, became
suddenly much worse. It seemed as if some string
in his system had suddenly snapped and let the
poor human wrecK ran aown.

ling from
tho cavo.
lurin' the

look-out
arter that
30. Liko

then re-

Dugh the
'a powers
lioy wore,
nparative
^prints to
thicket,
atod that

3 up and
;iklav was
■ they go,
ill for us."
V waters,"

we may

following
I, became
ne string
i let the

Of TOR SEA AND Till ROCKIFJ. as|

" Come hero. Ixjnther," he goaped faintly.

Poor Shank, who never loft him, and who wat
preparing food for him at the time, was at his aide
m a moment, and bent anxiously over him.

" D' you want anything ? " he asked.

" Nothing. Shank. Whore 'a Dick ? "

" Outside ; cutting some firewood."

"Don't call him I'm glad we are alone," aaid
the outlaw, seizing his friend'a hand with a feeble
tremuloua graap. "I'm dying. Shank, dear boy.'
I ou forgive me ? "

" Forgive you, Ralph I Ay-long, long ago I "

He could not Onish the sentence.

"I know you did, Shank," returned the dying
man, with a faint smile. "How it will faro with
me hereafter I know not. I Ve but one word to say
when I get there, and that is^guilty I I-I loved
your sister. Shank. Ay-you never guessed it. I
only tell you now that I may send her a message.
Tell her that the words she once said to me about a
Saviour have never left me. They are like a light
in the darkness now. God bless you-Shank-and
— May."

With a throbbing heart and listening ear Shank
waited for more; but no more came. The hand he
still held was lifeless, and the spirit of the outlaw
had entered within the veil of that mysterious
Hereafter.

:|||
:ii!i

332

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

CHAPTER XXVIIT.

CHASE, CAPTURB, AND END OP JAKE THE FLINT.

It was growing dark when Brooke and the scout
reached the cave that evening and found that Buck
Tom was dead ; but they had barely time to realise
the fact when their attention was diverted by the
sudden arrival of a large band of horsemen — cow-
boys and others — the leader of whom seemed to be
the cow-boy Crux.

Hunky Ben and his friends had, of course, made
rapid preparations to receive them as foes, if need
were ; but, on recognising who composed the caval-
cade, they went out to meet them.

"Hallo! Hunky," shouted Crux, as he rode up
and leaped off his steed, " have they been here ? "

" "Who d' ye mean ? " demanded the scout.

" Why, Jake the Flint, to be sure, an' his mur-
derin' gang. Haven't ye heard the news ? "

" Not I. Who d' ye think would take the trouble
to come up here with noos ? "

"They've got clear off, boys," said Crux^ in a
voice of great disappointment. "So we must off
saddle, an' camp where we are for the night."

Of THE SEA AND TUB ROCKIES.

333

[NT,

the scout
that Buck
3 to realise
:ed by the
nen — cow-
med to be

urse, made

les, if need

the caval-

le rode up

I here ? "

ut.

i' his mur-

the trouble

Crux, in a
e must off
5ht."

While the rest of the party dismounted and dis-
persed to look for a suitable camping-ground, Crux
explained the reason of their unexpected appearance.

After the Flint and his companions had left their
mountain fastness, as before described, they had
appeared in different parts of the country and com-
mitted various depredations; some of their robberies
having been accompanied with bloodshed and
violence of a nature which so exasperated the people
that an organised band had at length been gathered
to go in pursuit of the daring outlaw. But Jake
was somewhat Napoleonic in his character, swift in
his movements, and sudden in his attacks ; so that,
while his exasperated foes were searching for him in
one direction, news would be brought of his having
committed some daring and bloody deed far off in
some other quarter. His latest acts had been to
kill and rob a post-runner, who happened to be
a great favourite in his locality, and to attack
and murder, in mere wanton cruelty, a family of
friendly Indians, belonging to a tribe which had
never given the whites any trouble. The fury of
the people, therefore, was somewhat commensurate
with the wickedness of the man. They resolved to
capture him, and, as there was a number of resolute
cow-boys or the frontier, to whom life seemed to be
a bauble to be played with, kept, or cast lightly
away, according to circumstances, it seemed as if
the effort made at this time would be successful.

334

CHAKLIE TO THE llESCUE : A TALE

1-;

•».•!

•5 ■■

iV'

1 '■

1 ^^

1 ' '

' U"

iV]

C >

Tho latest reports that seemed reliable were to
the effect that, after slaying the Indians, Jake and
his men had made off in the direction of his old
stronghold at the head of Traitor's Trap. Hence
the invasion by Crux and his band.

" You '11 be glad to hear — or sorry, I 'm not sure
which — " said the scout, " that Buck Tom has paid
his last debt."

"What! defunct?" exclaimed Crux.

" Ay. Whatever may have bin his true character
an' deeds, he 's gone to his account at last."

" Are ye sure, Hunky ? "

" If ye don't believe me, go in there an' you '11 see
what 's left of him. The corp ain't cold yet."

The rugged cow-boy entered at once, to convince
himself by ocular demonstration.

" Well," said he, on coming out of the cave, " I wish
it had Laen the Flint instead. He '11 give us some
trouble, you bet, afore we bring him to lie as flat as
Buck Tom. Poor Buck ! They say he wasn't a bad
chap in his way, an' I never heard of his bein' cruel,
like his comrades. His main fault was castin' in his
lot wi' the Flint. They say that Jake has bin carousin'
around, thro win' the town-folk everywhere into fits,"

That night the avengers in search of Jake the
Flint slept in and around the outlaws* cave, while
the chief of the outlaws lay in the sleep of death in
a shed outside. During the night the scout went
out to see that the body was undisturbed, and was

le were to
I, Jake and
of his old
p. Hence

31 not sure
n has paid

3 character
. »

you '11 see
^et."
convince

ve, " I wish
ve us some
e as flat as
:isn't a bad
bein* cruel,
stin' in his
n carousin'
B into fits,"
F Jake the
save, while
of death in
scout went
d, and was

OF THE SEA AND THE ROOKIES. 336

Startled to observe a creature of some sort moving
near it. Ben was troubled by no superstitious
fears, so he approached with the stealthy, cat-like
tread which he had learned to perfection in his
frontier life. Soon he was near enough to perceive,
through the bushes, that the form was that of Shank
Leather, silent and motionless, seated by the side of
Buck Tom. with his face buried in his hands upon
his knees. A deep sob broke from him as he sat,
and again he was silent and motionless. The scout
withdrew as silently as he had approached, leavin-
the poor youth to watch and mourn over the friend
who had shared his hopes and fears, sins and
sorrows, so long-long at least in experience, if not
in numbered years.

Next morning at daybreak they laid the outlaw
in his last resting-place, and then the avengers pre-
pared to set off in pursuit of his comrades.

"You'll join us, I fancy," said Crux to Charlie
Brooke.

" No ; I remain with my sick friend Leather. But
perhaps some of my comrades may wish to go with
you."

It was soon arranged that Hunky Ben and Dick
Darvall should join the party.

"We won't be long o' catchin' him up," said Crux
"for the Mint has become desperate of late an'
we're pretty sure of a man when he gets into 'that
fix."

i^spf*' vf-mti^'

336

CIIAllLIE TO THE llESCUE : A TALE

til

ill
If'

iiiill!

Tho desperado to whom Ciux referred was one of
those terrible human monsters who may bo termed
a growth of American frontier life, men who, hav-
ing apparently lost all fear of God, or man, or death ;
carry their lives about with hilarious indifference,
ready to risk them at a moment's notice on tho
slightest provocation, and to take the lives of others
without a shadow of compunction. As a natural
consequence, such maniacs, for they are little else, are
feared by all, and even brave men feel the necessity
of being unusually careful while in their company.
, Among the various wild deeds committed by Jake
and his men was one which led them into serious
trouble and proved fatal to their cb^'ef. Coming to
a village, or small town, one night, they resolved to
have a regular spree, and for this purpose encamped
a short way outside the town till it should be quite
dark. About midnight the outlaws, to the number
of eight, entered the town, each armed with a Win-
chester and a brace of revolvers. Scattering them-
selves, they began a tremendous fusillade, as fast as
they could fire, so that nearly the whole population,
supposing the place was attacked by Indians, turned
out and fled to the mountains behind the town. The
Flint and his men made straight for the chief billiard-
room, which they found deserted, and there, after
helping themselves to all the loose cash available,
they began to drink. Of course they soon became
wild under the influence of the liquor, but retained

i^as one of
►Q termed
tvho, hav-
or death ;
lilYerence,
e oa the
of others
a natural
e else, are
necessity
Dmpany.
i by Jake
;o serious
ioming to
solved to
incamped
be quite
e number
h a Win-
ng them-
as fast as
)pulation,
IS, turned
wn. The
f billiard-
ere, after
available,
1 became
i retained

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 337

sense enough to mount their horses and gallop away
before the people of the place mustered courage to
return and attack the foe.

It was while galloping madly away after this raid
hat the murderous event took place which ended
m the dispersal of the gang.

Daylight was creeping over the land when the
outlaws left the town. Jake was wild with excite-
ment at what had occurred, as well as with drink
a^d began to boast and swear in a horrible manner.'
When they had ridden a good many miles, one of
the party said he saw some Redskins in a clump of
wood they were approaching.

"Did ye?" cried Jake, flourishing his rifle over
his head and uttering a terrible oath, "then I'll
shoot the first Eedskin I come across."

"Better not, Jake," said one of his men. " Thev 're
all friendly Injins about here."

wrlt^'V' >n\°^^' *' '^''" y^"^^ '^' ^^"«ken
wre^tch. "I'll shoot the first I see as I would a

At that moment they were passing a bluff covered
with timber, and, unfortunately, a poor old Indian
woman came out of the wood to look at the horse-
men as they flew past.

Without an instant's hesitation Jake swerved
aside, rode straight up to the old creature, and blew
out her brains.

Accustomed as they were to deeds of Violence

I Ml

338

OHA.ULIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

-.'1.

m»

I
♦

* I

•l

Ml
,*■■■'.' ,

and bloodshed, his comrades were overwhelmed
with horror at this, and, fearing the consequences
of the dastardly murder, rode for life away over the
plains.

But the deed had been witnessed by the relatives
of the poor woman. Without sound or cry, fifty
Red men leaped on their horses and swept with the
speed of light along the other side of the bluff,
which concealed them from the white men's sight.
Thus they managed to head them, and when Jake
and his gang came to the end of the strip of vjood,
the Red men, armed with rifle and revolver, were
in front of them.

There was something deadly and unusual in the
silence of the Indians on this occasion. Concen-
trated rage seemed to have stopped their power to
yell. Swift as eagles they swooped down and sur-
rounded the little band of white men, who, seeing
that opposition would be useless, and, perhaps, cowed
by the sight of such a cold-blooded act, offered no
resistance at all, while their arms were taken from
them.

With lips white from passion, the Indian chief in
command demanded who did the deed. The out-
laws pointed to Jake, who sat on his horse with
glaring eyes and half-open mouth like one stupefied.
At a word from the chief, lie was seized, dragged off
his horse, and held fast by two powerful men while
a third bound his aruis, A spear was driven deep

OF THK SEA AND THE K0CKIE8.

irwholmcd
isequencea
y over the

e relatives
cry, fifty

>t with the
the bluff,

len's sight.

when Jake

ip of V700(l,

olver, were

sual in the
. Concen-
ir power to
m and sur-
who, seeing
laps, cowed
offered no
taken from

ian chief in
The out-
horse with
le stupefied,
dragged off
, men while
driven deep

339

into the ground to serve as a stake, and to this Jake
was tied. Ho made no resistance. He seemed to
have been paralysed, and remained quite passive
while they stripped him naked to the waist. His
comrades, still seated on their horses, seemed incap-
able of action. They had. no doubt, a presentiment
of what was coming.

The chief then drew his scalping knife, and
passed it swiftly round tlie neck of the doomed man
I so as to make a slight incision. Grasping the flap

raised at the back of the neck, he tore a broad band
of skin from Jake's body, right down his back to
his waist. A fearful yell burst from the lips of the
wretched man, but no touch of pity moved the hearts
of the Red men, who^a chief prepared to tear off
another strip of skin from the quivering flesh.

At the same moment the companions of the Flint
wheeled their horses round, and, filled with horror,
fled at full speed from the scene.

The Eed men did not attempt to hinder them.
There was no feud at that time between the white
men and that particular tribe. It was only the
murderer of their old kinswoman on whom they
were be:it on wreaking their vengeance, and with
terrible cruelty was their diabolical deed accom-
plished. The comrades of the murderer, left free to
do as they pleased, scattered as they fled, as if each

._.w «xi«i^iO uu cuuuiu i/iie signi 01 liie other,

and they never again drew together.

340

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALK

%...

On the very next day Crux and his band of aven-
gers were galloping over the same region, making
straight for the town which the outlaws had thrown
into such consternation, and where Crux had been
given to understand that trustworthy news of the
Flint's movements would probably be obtained.

The sun was sotting, and a Hood of golden light
was streaming over the plains, when one of the band
suggested that it would be better to encamp where
they were than to proceed any further that night.

" So we will, boy," said Crux, looking about for a
suitable spot, until his eye fell on a distant object
that riveted his attention.

"A strange-looking thing that," remarked the
scout, who had observed the object at the same
moment. "Somethin' like a man, but standin'
crooked-like in a fashion I never saw a man stand
before, though I've seen many a queer sight in my

day."

"We'll soon clear up the mystery," said Crux,
putting spurs to his horse and riding straight for
the object ii" question, followed by the whole cav-
alcade.

" Ay, ay, bloody work bin goin' on here, I see,"
muttered the scout as they drew near.

" The accursed Eedskins ! " growled Crux.

We need scarcely say that it was the dead body
^c T«i,/^ 4-v./>« lyoA fimcj ^iannvPTAfl tip.d to the SDcar

which was nearly broken by the weight of the muti-

1 of aven-
1, making
id thrown
had been
WB of the
lined.
Iden light
I the band
,mp where
,t night,
kbout for a
ant object

arked the
the same
b standin'
man stand
ight in my

said Crux,
itraight for
whole cav-

lere, I see,"

ux.

I dead body

,0 the snear

)f the muti-

OF THK SEA AND THE H00KIK8. 341

lated carcass. Besides tearing most of the skin off
the wretched man's body, the savages had scalped
Jake; but a deep wound over the region of tlio
heart ohowed that they had, at all events, ended his
sufloringa before they left him.

While the avengers-whose vengeance was thus
forcstalled-were busy scraping a shallow grave for
the remains of the outlaw, a shout was raised by
several of the party who dashed after something
into a neighbouring copse. An Indian had been
discovered there, and the cruelties which had been
practised on the white man had, to a great extent,
transferred their wrath from the outlaw to his
murderers. But they found that the rush was
needless, for the Indian who had been observed
was seated on the ground beside what appeared to
be a newly formed grave, and he made no attempt
to escape.

He was a very old and feeble man, yet something
of the fire of the warrior gleamed from his sunken
eyes as he stood up and tried to raise his bent form
into an attitude of proud defiance.

" Do you belong to the tribe that killed this white

man ? " said Hunky Ben, whose knowledge of most

of the Indian dialects rendered him the fitting

spokesman of the party. °

"I do," answered the Indian in a stern yet

QUaVerinD" Vnicn thai-, ooor^ft/l „ ^:i.:c..r o

- " - ■■■■-■ ^'-'-i vcij- pituui, lor It was

evident that the old man thought his last hour had

111!

S43

ClIAULIE TO THE KE8CUE : A TALK

t
i

come, and that ho liad mado up his mind to die as
becRnie i <launtloss Indian bravo.

A I tiiat moment a little Indian girl, who had
hitherto lain quite conceaud in the tangled grass,
started up like a rabbit from its lair and dashed
into the thick-^t J=^wiftly though the child run,
however, one of tho young men of tlie party was
swifter. Ho sprang off in pursuit, and in a few
moments brought her back.

"Your tribe is not at war with tho pale-faces,"
continued the scout, taking no notice of this episode
I " They have been needlessly cruel."

For some moments the old man gazed sternly at
his questioner as if he heard him not. Then tho
frown darkened, and, pointing to the grave at his
feet, he said —

" Tho white man was more cruel."

'• What had he done ? " asked the scout.

But the old man would not reply. There came
over his withered features that stony stare of resolute
contempt which he evidently intended to maintain
to the last in spite of torture and death.

"Better question the child," suggested Dick
Darvall, who up to that moment had been too much
horrified by what he had witnessed to be able to
speak.

The scout looked at the child. She stood trem-
blina hfisidfl her cantor, with evidences of intense
terror on her dusky countenance, for she was only

OF THK SKA AND THE U0CKIE8.

848

to die as

wlio had
,dcd grass,
lid dashod
child run,
party was

ill a few

)ale- faces,"
lis episode

sternly at

Then the

ave at his

'here came
of resolute
3 maiutaiu

sted Dick
1 too much
be able to

itood trem-

of intense

e was only

too well accuatonied to the cruelties practised by
white men and red on each other to have any hope
either for the old man or herself.

" Poor thing ! " said Ilunky Ben, laying liis strong
hand tenderly on the girl's head. Then, taking her
hand, he led her gently aside, and spoke to her in
her own tongue.

There was something so unexpectedly soft in the
scout's voice, and so tender in his touch, that the
little brown maid was irresistibly comforted. When
one falls into the grasp of Goodness and Strength,
relief of mind, more or less, is an inevitable result.
David thought so when he said, " Let me fall now
into the hand of the Lord." The Indian child evi-
dently thought so when she felt that Ilunky Ben
was strong and perceived that he was good.

" We will not hurt you, my little one," said the
scout, when he had reached a retired part of the
copse, and, sitting down, placed the child on his
knee. " The white man who was killed by your
people was a very bad man. We were looking for
him to kill him. Was it the old man that killed
him ? "

"No," replied the child, "it was the chief."

" Why was he so cruel in his killing ? " asked the
scout.

"Because the white man was a coward. He
feared to face our warriors, but he shot an old
woman ! " answered the little maid ; and then, iu-

344

CUARLIE TO lilK UE80UK : A TALK

I
» 1

• ^

Spired with coiificlonce by the Bcout's kind nud
pitiful exprosaion, she rolutud t)io whole story of
the savage and wanton murder perpetrated by the
Flint, the 8ubse(iuont vengeance of her people, and
the unchecked (light and dispersion of Jake's com-
rades. The old woman who had been slain, she
snid, was her grandmother, and the old man who
had been captured was her grandfather.

"Friends, our busincsa has been done for us,"
said the scout on rejoining his comrades, "so we've
nothing to do but return home."
I Ho thou told them in detail what the Indian
girl had related.

" Of course," he added, " we 've uo right to find
fault wi' the Kedskins for punishin' the murderer
arter their own fashion, though wo might wish they
had bin somewhat more merciful "

"No, we mightn't," inteuupted Crux stoutly.
"The Flint got off easy in my opinion. If I had
had the doin' o't, I 'd have roasted him alive."

" No, you wouldn't. Crux," returned Ben, with a
benignant smile. " Young chaps like you are always,
accordin' to your own sliowin', worse than the devil
himself when your blood's roused by indignation at
cruelty or injustice, but you sing a good deal softer
when you come to the scratch with your enemy in
your power."

"You 're wrong, Hunky Ben," retorted Crux firmly.
" Any man as would blow the brains out of a poor

Of Till SKA AND THE ROCKIRa

346

diid niul
story of
id by tho
oplo, and
co's com-
ilain, she
nan who

for us/'
so we've

e Indian

t to find
murderer
rish they

stoutly.
If I had
e."

n, with a
e always,
ihe devil
lation at
sal softer
3nemy in

ix firmly,
f a poor

old woman in cold blood, us tho Flint did, desarvot
tho worst that can bo done to him."

"I didn't say nowt about what he dcflarves,"
returned tho scout ; " I was spcakin' about what you
would do if you'd got tho kiliin' of liim."

" Well, well, mates." said Dick Darvall, a little
impatiently, "seems to me that we're wastin' our
wind, for tho miserable wretch, bein' defunct, is
beyond tho malice o' red man or wliito. I there-
fore vote that we stop palaverin', 'bout ship, clap
on all sail an' lay our course for homo."

This suggestion met with general approval, and the
curious mixture of men and races, which had thus
for a brief period been banded together under the
inlluonco of a united purpose, prepared to break up.
"I suppose you an' Darvall will mako tracks for
Traitor's Trap," said Crux to Hunky Ben.

"That's my trail to bo," answered the scout.
" What say you, Black Polly ? Are ye game for
such a spin to-night ? "

Tho mare arched her glossy neck, put back both
ears, and gave other indications that she would have
fully appreciated the remarks of her master if she
had only understood them.

" Ah I Bluefire and I don't talk in that style," said
Crux, with a laugh. " I give him his orders an' he
knows that he 's got to obey. He and I will make
a bee-line for David's Store an' have a Jrink.
Who 'li keep me company ? "

346

CIIAULIE TO THE llESCUB : A TALE

Ml-

if'

Several of the more reckless among the men in-
timated their willingness to join the tcper. The
rest said they had o.her business on hand than to
go carousin' around.

"Why, Crux," said one who had been a very
lively member of the party during the ride out,
" d' ye know, boy, that it 's writ in the book o' Fate
that you an' I an' all of us, have just got so many
beats o' the pulse allowed us—no more an' no less
—an' we 're free to run the beats out fast o": slow,
just as we like? There's nothin' like drink for
makin' em go fast !

" I don't believe that, Robin Stout," returned Crux ;
" an' even if I did believe it I 'd go on just the same,
for I prefer a short life and a merry one to a long
life an' a wishywashy miserable one."

"Hear ! hear ! " exclaimed several of the topers.
"Don't ye think. Crux," interposed Darvall,
"that a long life an' a happy one might be better
than either?"

"Hear! hearl" remarked Hunky Ben, with a

quiet laugh.

" Well, boys," said one fine bright-looking young
fellow, patting the neck of his pony, "whether my
life is to be long or short, merry, wishywashy or
happy, I shall be off cow-punching for the next six
months or so, somewhere about the African bend,
on the Colorado River, in South Texas, an' I mean
to try an' keep my pulse a-goin' without drink.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

347

le men in-
oper. The
ind than to

jen a very
3 ride out,
ook 0* Fate
ot so many
an* no les3
ast 0': slow,
I drink for

irned Crux ;
st the same,
ne to a long

he topers.
3d Darvall,
it be better

Jen, with a

)king young
whether my
ihywashy or
the next six
ifrican bend,
i, an' I mean
'ihout drink.

I *ve seen more than enough o' the curse that comes
to us all on account of it, and I won't be caught in
that trap again."

" Then you 've bin caught in it once already, Jo
Pinto ? " said a comrade.

" Ay, I just have, but, you bet, it's the last time.
I don't see the fun of makin' my veins a channel
for firewater, and then finishin' off with D. T., if
bullet or knife should leave me to go that length."

" I suppose, Pinto," said Crux, with a smile of
contempt, " that you 've bin to hear that mad fellow
Gough, who 's bin howlin' around in these parts of
late ? "

" That 's so," retorted Pinto, flushing with sudden
anger. " I 've been to hear J. B. Gough, an' what 's
more I mean to take his advice in spite of all the
flap-jack soakers 'tween the Atlantic and the
Rockies. He 's a true man, is Gough, every inch of
him, and men and women that 's bin used chiefly
to cursin' in time past have heaped more blessin's
on that man's head than would sink you. Crux, — if
put by mistake on your head— right through the
lowest end o' the bottomless pit."

"Pretty deep that, anyhow!" exclaimed Crux,
with a careless laugh, for he had no mind to quarrel
with the stout young cow-boy whode black eyes he
had made to flash so keenly.

" It seems to me," said another of the band, as he
hung the coils of his lasso round the horn of his

™,

348

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

ii I

It' 'V

.V ■ 'I

f :«

:«» I :■

Mexican saddle, " that we must quit talkin' unless
we make up our minds to stop here till sun-up.
Who's goin' north? My old boss is financially
busted, so I've hired to P. T. Granger, who has
started a new ranch at the head o* Pugit's Creek.
He wants one or two good hands I know, an' I 've
reason to believe he 's an honest man. I go up trail
at thirty dollars per month. The outfit 's to consist
of thirty hundred her.d of Texas steers, a chuck
wagon and cook, with thirty riders includin' the
boss himself an* six horses to the man."
\ A couple of stout-looking cow-boys offered to join
the last speaker on the strength of his representa-
tions, and then, as the night bid fair to be bright
and calm, the whole band scattered and galloped
away in separate groups over the moon-lit plains.

OP THE SEA AND THE ROOKIES.

349

in' unless
1 sun-up.
nancially
who has
b's Creek.
, an' I *ve
D up trail
bo consist
a chuck
idin' the

}d to join
presenta-
be bright
galloped
plains.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THET EKTURN TO THB RANCH OP ROARINa BULL, WHERE
SOMETHINQ SERIOUS HAPPENS TO DICK DARVALL.

When Dick Darvall and Hunky Ben returned
from the expedition which we have just described,
they found all right at the cave, except that a letter
to Leather had been sent up from Bull's ranch
which had caused him much grief and anxiety.

" I have been eagerly awaiting your return, Ben "
said Charlie Brooke, when he and the scout went
outside the cave to talk the matter over, "for the
news in this letter has thrown poor Leather back
^considerably, and, as he will continue to fret about
it and get worse, something must be done."

He paused for a few moments, and the scout
gravely waited for him to resume.

"The fact is," continued Charlie, "that poor
Leather's father has been given far too much to the
bottle during a great part of his life, and the letter
just received tells us that he has suddenly left home
and gone no one knows where. Now, my friend
Leather and his father were always very fond of
each other, and the son cannot forgive himself for

350

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

■'4

•m

having at various times rather encouraged his father
in drinking, so that his conscience is reproaching
him terribly, as you may well believe, and he insists
on it that he is now quite able to undertake the
voyage home. You and I know, Ben, that in his
present state it would be madness for him to
attempt it ; yet to lie and fret here would be almost
as bad. Now, what is your advice ? "

For some moments the scout stood silent with
his eyes on the ground and his right hand grasping
his chin — his usual attitude when engaged in
meditation.

" Is there enough o' dollars," he asked, " to let you
do as ye like ? "

"No lack of dollars, I dare say, when needed,"
replied Charlie.

" Then my advice," returned the scout promptly,
"is to take Leather straight off to-morrow mornin'
to Bull's ranch; make him comfortable there, call
him Mister Shank, — so as nobody '11 think he 's been
the man called Leather, who 's bin so long ill along
wi' poor Buck Tom's gang, — and then you go off to
old England to follow his father's trail till you find
him. Leather has great belief in you, sir, and the
feelin' that you are away doin' your best for him
will do more to relieve his mind and strengthen his
body than tons o' doctor's stuff. Dick Darvall
could remain to take care ot him if he has no
objection."

OF THE SEA AND THE ROOKIEH.

351

d his father
reproaching
d he insists
iertake the
that in his
'or him to
d be almost

silent with
ad grasping
engaged in

" to let you

3n needed,"

it promptly,
:ow mornin'
3 there, call
ik he 's been
)ng ill along
ou go off to
ill you find
sir, and the
est for him
•engthen his
ick Darvall
he has no

"I rather think he wcild be well pleased to do
80," replied Charlie, with a laugli of significance,
which the scout quietly cubjected to analysis in
what he styled his brain-pan, and made a note of
the result in his mental memorandum book !

" But I doubt if Leather "

I "Shank," interrupted the pcout. "Call him

Shank from now, so 's we may all git used to it ;
tho' p'r'aps it ain't o' much importance, for most o'
the men that saw him here saw him in uncommon
bad condition an* would hardly know him agdn,
besides, they won't likely be at Bull's ranch, an'
the captain an' troops that were here have been
ordered down south. Still one can never be too
careful when life and death may be i' the balance.
Your friend niver was one o' the outlaws, but it
mightn't be easy to prove that."

" Well, then," resumed our hero, " I was going to
say that I fear Shank won't be able to stand the
journey even to the ranch."

" No fear of that, sir. We '11 carry him down to
the foot o' the Trap, an' when we git out on
the plain mount him on one o' the horses left by
poor Buck — the one that goes along so quiet that
thcv Ve given it the name o' the Wheelbarrow."

" Should I speak to him to-night about our plan,
Ben ? "

" No. If I was you I 'd only suy we 're goin' to
take him down to Bull's ranch i' the mornin'.

:!;,i ^

SP h

352

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

i .

That *11 take his mind a bit off tho letter, an* then
it *11 give him an extra lift when you tell him the
rest o' the plan."

In accordance with this arrangement, on the
folk-wing morning a litter was made with two stout
poles and a blanket between. On this the invalid
was laid after an early breakfast ; another blanket
was spread over him, and the scout and Dick, taking
it ap between them, carried him out of Traitor's
Trap, while Charlie Brooke, riding Jackson's horse,
led the Wheelbarrow by the bridle. As for Black
Polly, she was left to follow at her own convenience,
a whistle from Hunky Ben being at any moment
sufficient to bring her promptly to her master's side.

On reaching the plain the litter was laid aside,
the blankets were fastened to the horses, and Shank
prepared, as Dick said, to l^oard Wheelbarrow.

" Now then. Shank," said the seaman, while helping
his friend, " don't be in a hurry. Nothin' was ever
done well in a hurry either afloat or ashore. Git
your futt well into the stirrup an' don't take too
much of a spring, else you '11 be apt to go right over
on the starboard side. Hup you go ! "

The worthy sailor lent such willing aid that there
is little doubt he would have precipitated the cata-
strophe against which he warned, had not Hunky
Ben placed himself on the " starboard side " of the
steed and counteracted the heave. After that all
went well; the amble of the Wheelbarrow fully

OF TUE SEA AND THE R0CKIE8.

853

, an* then
[ him the

b, on the
two stout
16 invalid
)v blanket
ck, taking
' Traitor's
)n's horse,
for Black
ivenience,
i moment
iter's side,
aid aside,
nd Shank
row.

le helping
was ever
lore. Git
I take too
right over

that there
the cata-
)t Hunky
e' of the
r that all
row fully

Justified the title, and in due course the party
arnved at the ranch of Eoaring Bull, whore the
poor invahd was confined to his room for a consider-
able time thereafter, and became known at the ranch
as Mr. Shank.

One evening Charlie Brooke entered the kitchen
of the ranch in search of his friend Dick Darvall
who had a strange fondness for Buttercup, and
frequently held converse with her in the regions of
the back-kitchen.

"I dun know whar he is, massa Book," answered
the sable beauty when appealed to, " he 'a mostly
somewhar' around when he 's not nowhar else."

" I shouldn't wonder if he was," returned Charlie
with a hopeful smile. « I suppose Miss Mary 's not
around anywhere, is she ? "

"I shouldn't wonder if she wasn't; but she ain't
here, massa," said the black maid earnestly.

"You are a truthful girl, Butter-stick to that
and you '11 get on in lire."

With this piece of advice Charlie left the kitchen
abruptly, and thereby missed the eruption of teeth
and gums that immediately followed his remark.

Making his way to the chamber of his sick friend,
Charlie sat down at the open window beside him.

"How d'you feel this evening, my boy?" he
asked.

" A little better, but—oh dear me !— I berrin to
despair of getting well enough to go home, and it's

lit'

♦

354 CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

impossible to avoid being worried, for unless father
is sought for and found soon he will probably sink
altogetiier. You have no idea. Charlie, what a fear-
ful temptation drink becomes to those who have once
given way to it and passed a certain point."

"I don't know it personally—though I take no
credit for that— but I have some idea of it, I think,
from what I have seen and heard. But I came to
relieve your mind on the subject, Shank. I wanted
to speak with Dick Darvall first to see if he would
fall in with my plan, but as I can't find him just
now I thought it best to come straight to >ou about
it. Hallo! There is Dick."

" Where 1" said Shank, bending forward so as to

see the place on which his friend's eyes were fixed.

" There, don't you see 1 Look across that bit of

green sward, about fifty yards into the bush, close

to that lopped pine where a thick shrub overhangs

a fallen tree "

. a I gee— I see!" exclaimed Shank, a gleeful ex-
pression banishing for a time the look of suffering
and anxiety that had become habitual to him.
"Why, the fellow is seated beside Mary Jackson!"
"Ay, and holding a very earnest conversation
wloh her, to judge from his attitude," said Charlie.
« Probably inquidng into the market-price of steers

or some absorbing topic of that sort."

"He's grasping her hand now!" exclaimed
Shank, with an expanding mouth.

I A -Si

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

856

sss father
ably sink
at a fear-
have once

[ take no

;, I think,

[ came to

I wanted

ho would

him just

)ou about

•d so as to
^ere fixed,
ihat bit of
bush, close
overhangs

gleeful ex-
)f suffering
il to him.
Jackson ! "
onversation
lid Charlie,
ce of steers

exclaimed

^ "And she lota him hold it. lieally this becomes
interesting," observed Charlie, with gravity. " But,
my friend, is not this a species of eavesdropping 1
Are wo not taking mean advantage of a pair who
fondly think themselves alone ? Come, Shank, let
us turn our backs on the view and try to fix'our
minds on matters of personal interest."

But the young men liad not to subject themselves
to such a delicate test of friendship, for before they
could make any attempt to carry out the suggestion,
Dick and Mary were seen to rise abruptly and
hasten from the spot in different directions. A fov
minutes later Buttercup was observed to glide upon
the scene and sit down upon the self-same fallen
tree. The distance from the bedroom window was
too great to permit of sounds reaching the observers'
ears, or of facial contortions meeting their eyes very
distinctly, but there could be no doubt as to the
feelings of the damsel, Or the meaning of those
swayings to and fro of her body, the throwing back
of her head, and the pressing of her hands on her
sides. Suddenly she held out a black hand as if
inviting some one in the bush to draw near. The
invitation was promptly accepted by a large brown
-a well-known favourite in the ranch house-

dog
hold.

Rover— for such was his name— leaped on the
fallen tree and sat down on the spot which had
previously been occupied by the fair Mary. The

866

CnARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

r '

< J

I -

» ,

t .:
c

nti

•I

position was ovidontly sugROjtivo. for Buttercup
immodiately began to gosticulato and clasp her
hands as if talking very earnestly to the dog.

" I verily believe," said Shank, " that tlie blacking-
ball is re-enacting the scene with Hover I See I she

grasps his paw, and "

"My friend," said Charlie, "wo are taking mean
advantage again ! And, behold ! like the other pair,
they are lUtting from the scene, though not quite
in the same fashion."

This was true, for Buttercup, reflecting, probably,
that she might bo missed in the kitchen, had
suddenly tumbled Kover oif the tree and darted
swiftly from the spot.

« Come now. Shank," said Charlie, resuming the
thread of discourse which had been interrupted,
" it is quite plain to Dick and to myself that you
are unfit to travel home in your present state
of health, so I have made up my mind to leave you
hero in the care of honest Jackson and Darvall, and
to go home myself to make inquiries and search for
your father. Will this make your mind easy ? For
that is essential to your recovery at the present

time."

"You were always kind and self-sacrificing,

Charlie. Assuredly, your going will take an enormous

weight off my mind, for you are much better fitted

by nature for such a search than I am— to say

nothing of health. Thank you, my dear old boy, a

OF THE SEA AND THE ROGKIKg.

357

luttorcup
hiHp her

Ijlftcking-
Rcol bIjo

ing mean
thor pair,
not quite

probably,
lion, had
id darted

iiiuu}^ the
torrupted,
that you
gent state
leave you
irvall, and
search for
asy ? For
le present

sacrificing,
1 enormous
etter fitted
m — to say
old boy, a

■

thousand times. As for Dick Darvali," added
Sliank, with a laugh, " hoforo this evening I would
have doubted whether ho would bo willing to remain
with mo after your departure, but I have no doubt
now— considering what wo have just witnessed!"

"Yes, he has found 'metal more attractive/"
said Charlie, rising. "I will now go and consult
with him, after which I will depart without
delay."

"You've been having a gallop, to judge from
your heightened colour and ilashing eyes," said
Charlie to Dick when they met in the yard, hulf-
an-hour later.

" N— no— not exactly," returned the seaman, with
a slightly embarrassed air. " The fact is I 've bin
cruisin' about in the bush."

" What ! lookin' for Redskins ? "

" N— no ; not exactly, but "

"Oh! I see. Out huntin', I suppose. After
deer — eh ? "

"Well, now, that was a pretty fair guess,
Charlie," said Dick, laughing. " To tell ye the plain
truth, I have been out arter a dear— full sail —
an' "

" And you bagged it, of course. Fairly run it
down, I suppose," said his friend, again interrupting.

"Well, there ain't no *of course' about it, but
as it happened, I did manage to overhaul her, and
coming to close quarters, I "

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

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1.0

I.I

l^|28 |2.5

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S '^ Ilia

^ us, 12.0

1.25 1.4 1.6

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEQSTER.N.Y. 14580

(716)073-4503

358

CHARLIE TO TUE RESCUE : A TALE

"Yes, yes, / know," interrupted Charlie a third
time, with provoking coolness. "You ran her on
to the rocks, Dick — which was unseamanlike in
the extreme — at least you ran the dear aground on
a fallen tree and, sitting down beside it, asked it
to become Mrs. Darvall, and the amiable creature
agreed, eh ? "

"Why, how on earth did *ee come for to know
thxit ? " asked Dick, in blazing astonishment.

" Well, you know, there *s no great mystery about
it. If a bold sailor will go huntin' close to the
house, and run down his game right in front of
Mr. Shank's windows, he must expect to have'
witnesses. However, give me your flipper, mess-
mate, and let me congratulate you, for in my opinion
there 's not such another dear on all the slopes of
the Eocky Mountains, But now that I 've found you,
I want to lay some of my future plans before you."

They had not been discussing these plans many
minutes, when Mary was seen crossing the yard in
company with Hunky Ben.

"If Hunky would only stop, we'd keep quite
jolly till you return," observed Dick, in an under-
tone as the two approached.

"We were just talking of you, Ben," observed
Charlie, as they came up.

" Are you goin' for a cruise. Miss Mary ? " asked
the seaman in a manner that drew the scout's
attention.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

369

" No," replied Mary with a little laugh, and any-
thing but a little blush, that intensified the attention
of the scout. He gave one of his quiet but quick
glances at Dick and chuckled softly.

" So soon I " he murmured to himself ; " sartinly
your sea-dog is pretty slick at such matters."

Dick thought he heard the chuckle and turned
a lightning glance on the scout, but that sturdy
son of the forest had his leathern countenance turned
towards the sky with profoundest gravity. It was
characteristic of him, you see, to note the signs
of the weather.

"Mr. Brooke," he said, with the slow deliberate
air of the man who forms his opinions on solid
grounds, "there 's goin* to be a bu'st up o' the ele-
ments afore long, as sure as my name 's Hunky."

" That *s the very thing I want to talk about with
you, Ben, for I meditate a long journey immediately.
Come, walk with me."

Taking the scout's arm he paced with him slowly
up and down the yard, while Dick and Mary went
off on a cruise elsewhere.

360

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

CHAPTER XXX.

OUANUES TUB SCENE SOMEWHAT VIOLENTLY, AND SHOWS
OUR HBRC IN A NEW LIGHT. 4

The result of our hero's consultation with the
scqut was not quite as satisfactory as it might have
been. Charlie had hoped that Hunky Ben would
have been able to stay with Shank till he should
return from the old country^ but found, to his regret,
that that worthy was engaged to conduct still further
into the great western wilderness a party of emigrants
who wished to escape the evils of civilisation, and to
set up a community of their own which should be
founded on righteoup*^'^ss, justice, and temperance.

"You see, sir," said the scout, "I've gi'n them
my promise to guide them whenever they 're ready
to start, so, as they may git ready and call for my
services at any moment, I must hold myself free
o' other engagements. To say truth, even if they
hadn't my promise I 'd keep myself free to help *em,
for I 've a likin* for the good man — ^half doctor, half
parson as well as Jack-of-all-trades— as has set the
thing agoin'— moreover, I've a strong belief that

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

361

all this fightin', an' scalpiu', an' flayin' alive, an'
roastin', an' revenge, ain't the way to bring about
good ends either among Red men or white."

" I agree with you heartily, Ben, though I don't
very well see how we are to alter it. However, we
must leave the discussion of that difficulty to another
time. The question at present is, what hope is there
of your staying here even for a short time after
I leave ? for in Dick Darvall's present condition of
mind he is not much to be depended on, and Jackson
is too busy. You see, I want Shank to go out on
horseback as much as possiMe, but in this unsettled
region and time he would not be safe except in
the care of some one who knew the country and
its habits, and who had some sort of sympathy with
a broken-down man."

" All I can say, Mr. Brooke, is that I '11 stay wi'
your friend as long as I can," returned the scout,
" an' when I 'm obleeged to make tracks for the west,
I '11 try to git another man to take my place. Any-
how, I think that Mr. Eeeves-that 's the name o'
the good man as wants me an' is boss o' the emi-
grants—won't be able to git them all ready to
start for some weeks yet."

Charlie was obliged to content himself with this
arrangement. Next day he was galloping east-
ward— convoyed part of the way by the scout on
Black Polly and Dick Darvall on Wheelbarrow.
Soon he got into the region of railways and steam-

1 j ^1
illlJ

362

CHARUE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

boats, and, in a few weeks more was once again
in Old England.

A post-card announced his arrival, for Charlie had
learned wisdom from experience, and feared to take
any one " by surpiiso " — especially his mother.

We need not describe this second meeting of
our hero with his kindred and friends. In many
respects it resembled the former, when the bad news
about Shank came, and there was the same conclave
in Mrs. Leather's parlour, for old Jacob Crossley
happened to be spending a holiday in Sealford at
thb time.

Indeed he had latterly taken to spending much of
his leisure time at that celebrated watering-place,
owing, it was supposed, to the beneficial effect which
the sea-air had on his rheumatism.

But May Leather knew better. With that dis-
criminating penetration which would seem to be the
natural accompaniment of youth and beauty, she
discerned that the old gentleman's motive for going
so frequently to Sealford was a compound motive.

First, Mr. Crossley was getting tired of old
bachelorhood, and had at last begun to enjoy
ladies* society, especially that of such ladies as Mrs.
Leather and Mrs. Brooke, to say nothing of May
herself and Miss Molloy — the worsted reservoir —
who had come to reside permanently in the town and
who had got the " Blackguard Boy " into blue tights
and buttons, to the amazement and confusion of the

OF TUB SEA AND THE fiOCKim

863

little dog Scraggy, whose mind was weakened in
consoquence--so they said. Second, Mr. Crossley
was remarkably fond of Captain Stride, whom ho
abused like a pick-pocket and stuck to like a brother,
besides playing backgammon with him nightly, to
the greac satisfaction of the Captain's "missus" and
their "little Mag." Third, Mr. Crossley had no
occasion to attend to business, because business,
somehow, attended to itself, and poured its profits
perennially into the old gentleman's pocket ~ a
pocket which was never full, because it had a
charitable hole in it somewhere which let the cash
run out as fast as it ran in. Fourth and last,
but not least, Mr. Crossley found considerable relief
in getting away occasionally from his worthy house-
keeper Mrs. Bland. This relief, which he styled
"letting off the steam " at one time, "brushing away
the cobwebs " at another, was invariably foUowed by
a fit of amiability, which resulted in a penitent spirit,
and ultimately took him back to town where he
remained till Mrs. Bland had again piled enough of
eccentricity on the safety valve to render another
letting off of steam on the sea-shore imperative.

What Charlie learned at the meeting held in
reference to the disappearance of old Mr. Isaac
Leather was not satisfactory. The wretched man
had so muddled his brain by constant tippUng that
it had become a question at last whether he was
quite responsible for his actions. In a fit of

364

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

remorse, after an attack of delirium tremens, ho liad
suddenly condemned himself as being a mean con-
temptible burden on his poor wife and daughter.
Of course both wife and daughter asserted that his
mere maintenance was no burden on them at all —
as in truth it was not when compared with the
intolerable weight of his intemperance — and they
did their best to soothe him. But. the idea seemed
to have taken firm hold of him, and preyed upon
his mind, until at last he left home one morning in
a fit of despair, and had not since been heard of.
« " Have you no idea, then, where ho has gone ? "
asked Charlie.

"No, none," said Mrs. Leather, with a tear
trembling in her eye.

" We know, mother," said May, " that he has gone
to London. The booking clerk at the station, you
know, told us that."

"Did the clerk say to what part of London he
booked ? "

" No, he could not remember."

" Besides, if he had remembered, that would be
but a slight clew," said Mr. Crossley. " As well look
for a needle in a bundle of hay as for a man in
London."

" As well go to sea without rudder or compass,"
observed Captain Stride.

" Nevertheless," said Charlie, rising, " I will make
the attempt,"

OF TIIE SKA ANT) TrtE ROCKIES.

dC5

"Hopeless," said Crossley. "Sheer madness,"
added Stride. Mrs. Leather shook her head and
wept gently. Mrs. Brooke sighed and cast down
her eyes. Miss MoUoy—who was of the council,
being by that time cognisant of all the family
secrets-^clasped her hands and looked miserable.
Of all that conclave the only one who did not throw
cold water on our hero was pretty little brown-eyed
May. She cast on him a look of trusting gratitude
which blew a long smouldering spark into such a
flame that the waters of Niagara in winter would
have failed to quench it

" I can't tell you yet, friends, what I intend to
do," said Charlie. "All I can say is that I'm
off to London. I shaU probably be away some
time, but will write to mother occasionally. So
good-bye."

He said a good deal more, of course, but that was
the gist of it.

May accompanied him to the door.

"Oh I thank you— thank you!" she said, with
trembling lip and tearful eyes as she held out her
hand, " I feel sure that you will find father."

« I think I shall, May. Indeed I also feel sure
that I shall— God helping me."

At the ticket office ho found that the clerk
remembered very little. He knew the old gentle-
man well by sight, indeed, but was in the habit of
selUng tickets to so many people that it was

866

CHARLII TO THE BBSOITI : A TALI

impossible for him to romombor where they booked
to. In fact the only thing that had fixed Mr.
Leather at all in his memory was the fact that the
old man had dropped his ticket, had no money to
take another, and had pleaded earnestly to let him
have one on trust, a request with which ho dared
not comply — but fortunately, a porter found and
restored the ticket.

"Is the porter you refer to still hero?" asked
Charlie.

Yes, he was there ; and Charlie soon found him.
J The porter recollected the incident perfectly, for the
old gentleman, he said, had made a considerable
fuss about the lost ticket.

"And you can't remember the station he went
tol"

" No, sir, but I do remember something about his
saying ho wanted to go to Whitechapel — I think it
was— or Whitehall, I forget which, but I 'm sure it
was white something."

With this very slender clew Charlie Brooke
presented himself in due time at Scotland Yard, at
which fountain-head of London policedoni he gave a
graphic account of the missing man and the circum-
stances attending his disappearance. Thence he
went to the headquarters of the London City
Mission ; introduced himself to a sympathetic
secretary there, and was soon put in communication
with one of the most intelligent of those valuable

Of THE flf A AND Tm? ROCICf Rfl.

867

booknd
led Mr.
that the
loney to
let him
10 dared
uid and

asked

nd him.
, for the
idorablo

he went

bout his
think it
1 sure it

Brooke
iTard, at
B gave a
circum-
mce he
)n City
pathetic
tiication
valuable

'•olf-sacrificing and devoted men who may bo styled
the salt of the London slums. This good man's
district embraced part of Whitochapel.

"I will help you to the extent of my power, Mr.
Brooke," he said, " but your quest will be a (lillicult
one. peihaps dangerous. How do you j ropoae to
go about it ? "

"By visiting all the low lodging-houses in White-
chapol first," said Charlie.

"That will take a long time," said the City
Missionary, smiling. " Low lodging-houses are some-
what numerous in these parts."

" I am aware of that, Mr. Stansfield, and mean to
take time," returned our hero promptly. "And
what I want of you is to take me into one or two of
them, 80 that I may see something of them while
under your guidance. After that I will get their
streets and numbers from you, or through you, and
will then visit them by myself."

^"But, excuse me, my friend," returned the
missionary, "your appearance in such places will
attract more attention than you might wish, and
would interfere with your investigations, besides
exposing you to danger, for the very worst charac-
ters in London are sometimes to be found in such
places. Only men of the police force and we city
missionaries can go among them with impunity."

"I have counted the cost, Mr. Stansfield, and
intend to run the risk ; but thank you, all the same.

ill"

M f

868

OIIAKLIE TO THE UEflOUI: A TALI

for your woll-moatit warning. Can you go roun<r
one or two tliia afternoon ? '* »

" I can, with pleaauro, and will provide you with
Afl many lodging-houflo addrussus as I can procure.
Do you live far from this ? "

"No, quite cIobo. A gcntlonian who waw in your
Secretary's ofTlco when I called recommended a
small lodging-house kept hy a Mrs. Butt in tlie
neighbourhood of Flower and Dean Street. You
know that region well, I suppose?"

"Ay—intimately; and I know Mrs. Butt too — a
very respectable woman. Come, then, let us start
on our mission."

Accordingly Mr. Stansfield introduced his inex-
perienced friend into two of the principal lodging-
houses in that neighbourhood. They merely passed
through them, and the missionary, besides comment-
ing on all that they saw, told liis new friend where
and what to pay for a night's lodging. He also
explained the few rules that were connected with
those sinks into which the dregs of the metropolitan
human family ultimately settle. Then he accom-
panied Charlie to the door of his new lodging and
bade him good-night.

It was a dingy little room in which our hero
found himself, having an empty and rusty fire-grate
on one side and a window on the other, from which
there was visible a landscape of paved court. The
foreground of the landscape was a pump, the middle

'»

round

'ou with
procure.

in your
mdad a

1 in iho

t. You

i too — a
us start

is inex-
lodging-
y passed
)mment-
d where
Ho also
:ed with
opolitan
accom-
ing and

VLT hero
ire-grate
n which
rt. The
3 middle

Of Till SKA AND THE nOCKlKS. 300

dUtanco a wuHh-tuh. and the background a brick
wall, ubout ton feet distant and fifteen feet high
Tliero was no sky to the landscape, by reanon of
the next house. The furniture was in keeping with
the view.

Observing a small sofa of the last century on its
last logs in a corner, Charlie sat down on it and
rose again instantly, owing apparently to rheumatic
complaints from its legs.

"U! sir," said the landlady, who had followed
him into the room, "you don't need to fear r ly-
think. That sofur, sir, 'as bin in my family for
three generations. The frame was renoo'd before I
was born, an' the legs I 'ad taken ofl' an' noo ones
putt on about fifteen year ago last Easter as
ever was. My last lodger ee went through the
bottom of it, w'ich obliged me to 'avo that renoo'd,
so it's stronger than ever it were. If you only
keep it well shoved up agin the wall, sir, it 11 stand
a'most any weight-only it won't stand jumpin' on.
You mustn't jump on it, sir, with your feetl"

Charlie promised solemnly that ho would not
jump on it either with his feet or head, and then
asked if he could have tea and a fire. On being in-
formed that ho could have both, he drew out^his
purse and said —

"Now, Mrs. Butt, I expect to stay here for two or
three weeks-perhaps longer. My name is Brooke.
I was advised to come here by a gentleman in the

.11!!!]

370

CHARLIE TO THE nESCU7, : A TALE

offices of the City Mission. I shall have no visitors
—being utterly unknown ii. this neighbourhood—
except, perhaps, the missionary who parted from mo

at the door "

" Mr. Stansticld, sii ? " said the landlady.

" Yes. You know him ? "

"I've knowed 'im for years, sh. I shall only be
too pie? fed to 'ave any friend of 'is in my ouse, I
assure you."

"That's well. Now, Mrs. Butt, my motive in

coming here is to discover a runaway relation "

, "La! sir— a little boy ? "

" No, Mrs. Butt, a "

" Surely not a little giLvl, sir," said the landlady,
with a sympathetic expression.

" It is of no consequence what or who the run-
away relation ij, Mrs. Butt ; I merely mention the
fact in order that you may understand the reason of
any little eccentricity you may notice in my con-
duct, and not perplex your mind about it. For
. instance, I shall have no regular hours— may be out
late or early— it may be even all night. You will
give me a pass-key, and I will let myself in.
The only thing I will probably ask for will be a cup
of tea or coffee. Pray let me have one about; an
hour hence. I 'm going out at present. Here is a
week's rent in advance."

« Shali I put on a fire, sir ? " asked Mrs. Butt.

" Well, yes — you may."

Ill'

10 visitors
)uvhood —
I from mo

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

371

ill only bo
ly 'ouse, I

motive in
tion "

landlady,

) the run-
antion the
2 reason of

I my con-
t it. For
nay ue out

You will
myself in.

II be a cup
> abouo an

Here is a

!. Butt. .

"Toast, sir?"

"Yes, yes,'^ said Charlie, opening the outer
door.

"'Ot or cold, sir?"

'"Ot, and huttered," cried Charlie, with a laugh, as
he shut tha door after him and rendered further
communication impossible.

Weuding his way through the poor streets in the

midst of which his lodging was situated, our hero

at last found an old-clothes store, which he entered.

"I want a suit of old clothes," he said to the

owner, a Jew, who came forward.

The Jew smiled, spread out his hands after the
manner of a Frenchman, and said, " My shop, sir, is
at your disposal."

After careful inspection Charlie selected a fustian
coat of extremely ragged appearance, with trousers
to match, also a sealskin vest of a mangy complexion,
likewise a soiled and battered billycock hat, sJ
shockingly bad that it was difficult to imagine it to
have ever had better days at all.

" Are they clean ? " he asked.

"Bin baked and fumigated, sir," answered the
Jew solemnly.

As the look and smell of the garments gave some
countenance to the truth of this statement, Charlie
paid the price demanded, had them wrapped up in
a green cotton handkerchief, and carried them off.

Arrived at his lodging he let himself in, entered

372

CHARUE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

' » '-Hi

* i

his room, and threw the bundle in a corner. Then
he rang for tea.

It was growing dark by that time, but a
yellow-cotton blind shut out the prospect, and a
cheery fire in the grate lighted up the little room
brightly, casting a rich glow on the yellow-white
table-cloth, which had been already spread, and
creating a feeling of coziness in powerful contrast
to the sensation of dreariness which had assailed
him on his first entrance. When Mrs. Butt had
placed a paraffin lamp on the table, with a dark-
brown teapot, a thick glass sugar-bowl, a cream-jug
to match, and a plate of thick-buttered toast that
scented the atmosphere deliciously, our hero thought
— not for the first time in his life— that wealth was
a delusion, besides being a snare.

" ' One wants but little here below,' " he mused, as
he glanced round the apartment ; " but he wants it
longer than that" thought he, as his eyes wandered
to the ancient sofa, which was obviously eighteen
inches too short for him.

"I 'ope you've found 'im, sir," said Mrs. Butt
anxiously, as she was about to retire.

" Found who ? "

"Your relation, sir; the little boy — I mean

gurl."

" No, I have found neither the boy nor the girl,"
returned the lodger sharply. " Hvaven't even begun
to look for them yet."

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

373

er. Then

e, but a
}ct, and a
ittle room
llow-white
Dread, and
il contrast
id assailed
Butt had
bh a dark-
cream-jug
toast that
ro thought
vealth was

J mused, as
le wants it
! wandered
y eighteen

Mrs. Butt

-I mean

r the girl,"
>yen begun

"Oh I beg parding, sir, I didn't know there was
two of *em."

"Neither are there. There 's only one. Fetch me
some hot water, Mrs. Butt, your tea is too good. I
never take it strong."

The landlady retired, and, on returning with the
water, found her lodger so deep in a newspaper that
she did not venture to interrupt him.

^ Tea over, Charlie locked his door and clothed
himself in his late purchase, which fitted him fairly
well, considering that he had measured it only by
eye. Putting on the billycock, and tying the green
cotton kerchief loosely round his neck to hide his
shirt, he stepped in front of the looking-glass above
the mantelpiece.

At sight of himself he was prepared to be
amused, but he had not expected to be shocked I
Yet shocked he certainly was, for the transforma-
tion was so complete that it suddenly revealed to
him something of the depth of degradation to which
he might fall-to which many a man as good as
himself, if not better, had fallen. Then amusement
rose within him, for he was the very beau-ideal of
a typical burglar, or a prize-fighter: big, square-
shouldered, deep-chested, large-chinned. The only
parts that did not quite correspond to the type were
his straight, weU-f ormed nose and his clear blue eyes,
but these defects were put right by slightly droopin^r
his eyelids, pushing his billycock a little back on

.'" >■

u
n

* * ¥

M ;
« s

•1^

374

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

his head, and drawing a lock of hair in a drunken
fashion over his forehead.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him. Slipping his
latchkey into his pocket he went out of the house'
and closed the door softly. Then he rang the bell.

" Is the gcn'leman at *ome ? " he asked of Mrs.
Butt, in a gruff, hoarse voice, as if still engaged in a
struggle with a bad cold.

"What gentleman ? " asked Mrs. Butt, eyeing him
suspiciously.

" W'y, the gen'leman as sent for me to give *im
iboxin' lessons — Buck or Book, or some sitch name."

"Brooke, you mean," said Mrs. Butt, still sus-
picious, and interposing her solid person in the
doorway.

"Ay, that's the cove—the gen'leman I mean
came here this arternoon to lodge wi' a Missis Butt
or Brute, or suthin' o* that sort — air you Mrs.
Brute ? "

"Certainly not," answered the landlady, with
indignation ; " but I *m Mrs. Butt."

" Well, it *s all the same. I ax yer parding for
the mistake, but there 's sitch a mixin' up o' Brutes
an' Brookes, an' Butts an' Bucks, that it comes hard
o' a man o' no edication to speak of to take it all in.
This gen'leman, Mr. Brute, 'e said if 'e was bout
w'en I called I was to wait, an' say you was to
make tea for two, an' 'ave it laid in the bedroom as
e *d require the parlour for the mill."

*^ »

drunken

pping his
;he house'
the bell.
[ of Mrs.
aged in a

'^eing him

give *im
jh name."
still sus-
a in the

I mean
ssis Butt
^ou Mrs.

dy, with

rding for
o' Emtes
mes hard
it all in.
fvas bout
1 was to
droom as

or THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 375

The man's evident knowledge of her lodger's
affairs, and his gross stupidity, disarmed Mrs. Butt
She would have laughed at his last speech if it had
not been for the astounding conclusion. T-.a in the
bedroom and a mill in the parlour the first night
was a degree of eccentricity she had not even con-
ceived of.

'* Come in, then, young man," she said, making
way. "You'll find Mr. Brooke in the parlour at
his tea."

The prize-fighter stepped quickly along the dark
passage into the parlour, and while the somewhat
sluggish Mrs. Butt was closing the door she over-
heard her lodger exclaim—

"Ha! Jem Mace, this is good of you-veiy good
of you-to come so promptly. Mrs. Butt," shouting
at the parlour door, "another cup and plate for Mr"
Mace, and— and bring the ham / "

" The 'am ! " repeated Mrs. Butt softly to herself

as she gazed in perplexity round her little kitchen'

" did 'e oidei Si 'am V *

Unable to solve the riddle she gave it up and

carried m the cup and saucer and plate.

"I beg your parding, sir, you mentioned a 'am »
she began, but stopped abruptly on seeing no one
there but the prze-fighter standing before the fire
m a free-and-easy manner with his hands in his
breeches pockets.

The light of the street-lamps had very imperfectly

dtb

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUB-: A TALE

revealed the person of Jem Mace. Now that Mrs.
Butt saw him slouching in all his native hideousness
against her mantelpiece in the full blaze of a par-
affin lamp, she inwardly congratulated herself that
Mr. Brooke was such a big strong man — almost a
match, she thought, for Mace I

" I thought you said the gen'leman was in the
parlour, Mrs. Brute ? " said Mace inquiringly.

"So 'e — was," answered the perplexed lady,
looking round the room ; " didn't I 'ear 'im a-shakin'
'ands wi' you, an' a-shoutin' for 'am ? "
, " "Well, Mrs. Brute, I dun know what you 'eard ;
all I know is that I 've not seed 'im yet."

"'E must be in the bedroom," said Mrs. Butt,
with a dazed look.

"No 'e ain't there," returned the prize-fighter;
" I 've bin all over it — looked under the bed, into
the cupboard, through the key'ole; — p'r'aps," he
added, turning quickly, " 'e may be up the chimbly !"

The expression on poor Mrs. Butt's face now
alarmed Charlie, who instantly doffed his billycock
and resumed his natural voice and manner.

" Forgive me, Mrs. Butt, if I have been somewhat
reckless," he said, " in testing my disguise on you.
I really had no intention till a few minutes ago of
playing such a practical "

"Well, well, Mr. Brooke," broke in the amazed
yet amiable creature at this point, "I do assure
you as I 'd never 'ave know'd you from the worst

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

377

it Mrs.
ousnesa
' a par-
3lf that
[most a

in the

i lady,
■shakin'

1 'eard ;

s. Butt,

fighter ;
ed, into
ps," he
imbly!"
ce now
illycock

mewhat

on you.

ago of

character in Witechapel. I wouldn't have trusted
you— not with a sixpence. You was born to be a
play-actor, sirl I declare that Jem Mace have

given me a turn that But why disguise yourself

in this way, Mr. Brooke ? "

" Because I am going to haunt the low lodging-
houses, Mrs. Butt, and I could not well do that, you
know, in the character of a gentleman ; and as you
have taken it so amiably I'm glad I tried my
hand here first, for it will make me feel much more
at ease."

" And well it may, sir. I only 'ope it won't get
you into trouble, for if the p'leece go lookin' for a
burglar, or murderer, or desprit ruffian, where you
'appen to be, they 're sure to run you in. The only
think I would point out, sir, if I may be so free, is
that your *ands an' face is too clean."

"That is easily remedied," said Charlie, with a
laugh, as he stooped and rubbed his hands among
the ashes ; then, taking a piece of cinder, he made
sundry marks on his countenance therewith, which,
when judiciously touched in with a little water and
some ashes, converted our hero into as thorough a
scoundrel as ever walked the streets of London at
unseasonable hours of night.

lil'i'^

•m

amazed
) assure
e worst

378

CTIAnUE TO THE RESCT7B : A TALE

CHAPTEE XXXI.

fAILDBB AND A NBW SOBNT,

Although our hero's plan of search may seem
to some rather Quixotic, there was nothing further
, from his thoughts than merely playing at the game
of amateur detective. Being enthusiastic and
sanguine, besides being spurred on by an intense
desire to rescue the father of May Leather, Charlie
Brooke was thoroughly in earnest in his plan. He
knew that it would be useless to attempt such a
search and rescue in any other capacity than that
of a genuine pauper, at least in appearance and
action. He therefore resolved to conduct the search
in character, and to plunge at once into the deepest
pools of the slums

It is not our intention to carry the reader through
the Arabian-night-like adventures which he ex-
perienced in his quest. Suffice it to say that he
did not find the lost man in the pools in which he
fished for him, but he ultimately, after many weeks,
found one who led him to the goal he aimed at.
Meanwhile there were revealed to him numerous

ay seem

; further

tie game

tic and

intense

Charlie

tn. He

such a

an that

ice and

B search

deepest

;hrough
he ex-
that he
lich he
weeks,
at.
merous

0» HIE 8U AND THE ROCKIES. ST*

ph«es of life_o,, „ther. of living death-in the
slums of the great city which caused him many a
heartache at the time, and led him ever afterwards
to cons^er with anxious pity the condition of the
poor, the so-called lost and lapsed, the depraved
degraded, and unfortunate. Of course he found-
as so many had found before him-that the demon
Dnnk was at the bottom of most of the misejv he
^^esse d,b„, he also learned that whereosX
weak and vicious natures dated the commencement
of their iinal descent and fall from the time when
they began t^ drink, many of the strong and Z
cious spirits had begun a life of wickedness in earTy

httk additional fuel to the already roaring flame

JL " T'! '"""'" """ ■"«» °' a" stamps and

houses of dl great cities. .At first Charlie did not

etcht h ?' 'r '" ~"^ -°-Sed in the
s arch for his friend, and anxious to avoid drawing
attention on himself; but as he grew familiar witS
these scenes of misery and destitution he graduallv
began to be interested in the affairs of other peol
and- as he was eminently sympathetic, he became the'
confidant of several paupers, young and old. A few
tried to draw him out, but he quietly checked Uieir

CUriOSltV Wlf,linnf. mir,-«« ^cc^^..

It may be remarked here that he at once dropped

380

CHARLIE TO THE KE8CUE : A TALI

I;,

I ' '

111

1 !

!|.pi!

hi!

the fltylo of talk which he had adopted when repre-
senting Jem Mace, because ho found so many in
the lodging-liouaos who had fallen from a good
position in society that grammatical language was
by no moans singular. His size and strength also
saved him from much annoyance, for the roughs,
who might otherwise havo bullied him, felt that it
would bo wise to leave him alone.

On one occasion, however, his pacific principles
were severely tested as well as his manhood, and
as this led to important results we must recount the
incident.

There was a little lame, elderly man, who was a
habitual visitor at one of the houses which our hero
frequented. He was a humorous character, who
made light of his troubles, and was a general
favourite. Charlie had felt interested in the man,
and in ordinary circumstances would have inquired
into his history, but, us we have said, he laid some
restraint on his natural tendency to inquire and
sympathise. As it was, however, he showed his
goodwill by many little acts of kindness — such as
making way for Zook — so he was called — when he
wanted to get to the general fire to boil his tea or
coffee ; giving him a portion of his own food on the
half pretence that he had eaten as much as he
wanted, etc.

There was another habitud of the same lodging,
named Stoker, whose temperament was the very

OF THE SEA AND THE UOCKIEfl.

on ropre-
nmny in
L a good
;imgo was
ngth also

rouglis,
It that it

mnciples
lood, and
sount the

ho was a

our hero

jter, who

1 general
the man,

inquired
aid some
[uire and
owed his
-such as
■when he
lis tea or
3d on the
)h as he

) lodging,
the very

opposite to that of little Zook. Ho was a huge,
burly dock labourer; an ex-prizo-fightcr and a
disturber of the peace wherever ho went. Between
Stoker and Zook there was nothing in common savo
their poverty, and the former had taken a strong
dislike to the latter, presumably on the ground of
Zook's superiority in everything except bulk of
frame. Charlie had come into slight collision with
Stoker on Zook's account more than once, and had
tried to make peace between them, but Stoker was
essentially a bully ; he would listen to no advice,
and had more than once told the would-be peace-
maker to mind his own business.

One evening, towards the close of our hero's
search among the lodging-houses, little Zook entered
the kitchen of the establishment, tea-pot and penny
loaf in hand. He hastened towards the roaring
fire that might have roasted a whole sheep, and
which. served to warm the entire basement story
OP kitchen, of the tenement.

"Here, Zook," said Charlie, as the former passed
the table at which he was seated taking his supper,
" I 've bought more than I can eat, as usual I I 've
got two red-herrings and can eat only one. Will
you help me ? "

" It 's aU fish that comes to my net, Charlie," said
the little man, skipping towards his friend, and
accepting the herring with a ffratftfnl hnf. «vo««^«.f . i
bow.

333

CiiAAUi TO TUis aiCiCUS: A TALI

•1

Wo oiuittod to Bay that our hero paaacd among
tho paupers by his Christian nnmo, wliich bo had
given as being, from ita very universality, tlio best
possible alias.

A few iniuutos later Stoker entered and went to
the fire, where loud, angry voices soon told that
the bully was at his old game of peace-disturber.
Presently a cry of " shame " was hoard, and poor Zook
was seen lying on the floor with his nose blecc'It;^.

" Who cried shame ?" demanded the bully, looking
fiercely round.
, "/did not," said Charlie Brooke, striding towards
him, '• for I did not know it was you who knocked
him down, but I do cry shame on you now, for
striking a man so much smaller than yourself, and
without provocation, I warrant."

" An' pray who are you ? " returned Stoker, in a
tone that was meant to be witheringly sarcastic.

"I am one who likes fair play," said Charlie,
restraining his anger, for he was still anxious to
throw oil on the troubled waters, " and if you call
it fair play for a heavy-weight like you to attack
such a light-weight as Zook, yon m' st havr f'^r-
gotten somehow that you ... an Englishman.
Come, now. Stoker, say to Zook you are sorry and
won't worry him any more, and I'm sure 'he'll
forgive you ! "

■ Hear 1 hear ! " cried several of the on-lookers.
"■ Puihapa I mai/ forgive 'im," said Zook, with a

Of TUB SBA kVn Tni ROOKHi,

983

k1 among

1 bo had

the iMjflt

I wont to

told that
Jisturbcr.
)oor Zook
lecdiug.
f, looking

I towards

knocked

now, for

rself, and

kcr, in a
astic.
Charlie,
ixious to
you call
:o attack
lavr fnr-
jlishman.
oriy and
ire he'll

okers.
:, with a

hinnorous lecr.ns ho wiped his blooding nosi^-Td
do tt'niost anything to pleaw Charlie!"

This was received with a goneral laugh, but
Stoker did not laugh ; ho turned on our hero with
ft look of mingled pity and contempt,

" No, Mister Chorlio," he said, " I won't say I 'ni
sorry, because I 'd tell a big lie if I did, and I 'II
worry hini just as much as I please. But I '11 tell
'o what I '11 do. If you show yourself as ready wi'
your bunches o' lives as you are wi' yer tongue, and
agree to fight me, I '11 miy to Zook that I 'm sorry
and won't worry 'im any more."

There was dead silence for a minute after tho
delivery of this challenge, and much curiosity was
exhibited as to how it would bo taken. Charlie cast
down his eyes in perplexity. Like many big and
strong men he was averse to use his superior physi-
cal powers in fighting. Besides this, he had been
trained by his mother to regard it as more noble to
suffer than to avenge insults, and there is no doubt
that If tho bully's insult had affected only himself
he would have avoided him, if possible, rather than
come into conflict. Having been trained, also to
let Scripture furnish him with rules for action 'his
mmd irresistibly recalled the turning of the "other
cheek" to the smiter, but the fact that he was at
that moment acting in defence of another, not of him-
self, prevented that from relieving him. Suddenly
—like the lightning flash—there arose to him the

; If

r f i#

334

CHARLIE t6 the RESCUE : A TALE

[1 %,

' ! I

words, "Smite a scorner and the simple will beware"!
Indeed, all that we have mentioned, and much more,
passed through his troubled brain with the speed of
light. Lifting his eyes calmly to the face ©f his
opponent ho said —

*' I acoopt your challenge."

"No, no, Charlie!" cried ^he alarmed Zook, in a
reuionstrativG tone, "you'll do nothing of the sort.
The man's a old prize-fighter! You haven't a
chance. Why, I'll fight him myself rather than
let you do it."

And with that the little man began to square up
and twirl his fists and skip about in front of the
bully in spite of his lameness— but took good care
to keep well out of his reach.

"It's a bargain, then," said Charlie, holding out
his hand.

" Done ! " answered the bully, grasping it.

" Well, then, the sooner we settle this business
the better," continued Charlie. "Where shall it
come off?"

" Prize-fightin 's agin the law," suggested an old
pauper, who seemed to fear they were about to set
to in the kitchen.

" So it is, old man," said Charlie, " and I would
be the last to engage in such a thing, but this is not
a prize-fight, for there's no prize. It's simply a
fight in defence of weakness against brute strength
and tyranny."

i"i

ALE

1 Zook, in a
of the sort.

u haven't a
rather than

io square up
front of the
'k good care

holding out

ig it.

his business

ere shall it

ssted an old
ibout to set

nd I would
it this is not
's simply a
ite strength

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 386

There were only a few of the usual inhabitants of
the kitchen present at the time, for it wag yet early
in the ovening. This was lucky, as it permitted of
the fight being gone about quietly.

In tlie upper part of the building there was an
empty room of considerable size which had been
used as a furniture store, and happened at that time
to have been cleared out with the view of addin<> it
to the lodging. There, it was arranged, the event
should come off, and to this apartment proceeded all
the inhabitants of the kitchen who were interested
in the matter. A good many, however, remained
behind-some because they did not like fights
some because they did not believe that the parties
were m earnest, others because they were too much
taken up with and oppressed by their own sorrow*,
and a few because, being what is called fuddled'
they did not understand or care anything about thj
matter at all. Thus it came to pass that all the
proceedings were quiet and orderly, and there was
no fear of interruption by the police.

Arrived at the scene of action, a ring was formed
by the spectators standing round the walls, which
they did m a single row, for there was plenty of
room. Then Stoker strode into the middle of the
room, pulled off his coat, vest, and shirt, which he
flung into a corner, and stood up, stripped to the
waist, like a genuine performer in the ring. Charlie
also threw off coat and vest, but retained his shirt-

'4,1 ' I !

386

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE ; A TALE

W7-

ill

"i"

an old striped cotton one in harmony with his other
garments.

" I 'm not a professional," he said, as he stepped
forward; "you've no objection, I suppose, to my
keeping on my shirt ? "

" None whatever," replied Stoker, with a patron-
ising air ; " p'r'aps it may be as well for fear you
should kitch cold."

Charlie smiled, and held out his hand—" You
see," he said, " that at least I understand the civi-
lities of the ring."

There was an approving laugh at this as the
champions shook hands and stood on guard.

"I am quite willing even yet," said Charlie, while in
this attitude, " to settle this matter without fighting
if you '11 only agree to leave Zook alone in future."

This was a clear showing of the white feather in
the opinion of Stoker, who replied with a thundering
"No!" and at the same moment made a savage
blow at Charlie's face.

Our hero was prepared for it. He put his head
quickly to one side, let the blow pass, and with his
left hand lightly tapped the bridge of his opponent's
nose.

" Hah ! a liammytoor ! " exclaimed the ex-pugilist
in some surprise.

Charlie said nothing, but replied with the grim
smile with which in school-days he had been wont
to indicate that he meant mischief. The smile

h his other

he stepped
)se, to my

a patron-
r fear you

nd— "You
I the civi-

lis as the
rd.

ie, while in
ut fighting
tt future."
feather in
ihundering
} a savage

b his head
d with his
opponent's

3x-pugilist

the grim
been wont
rhe smile

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. $87

passed quickly, however, for even at that moment
he would gladly have hailed a truce, so deeply did he
feel what he conceived to be the degradation of his
position-a feeling which neither his disreputable
appearance nor his miserable associates had yet been
able to produce.

But nothing was further from the intention of
Stoker than a truce. Savages usually attribute for-
bearance to cowardice. War to the knife was in
his heart, and he rushed at Charlie with a shower
of sloggmg blows, which were meant to end the
fight at once. But they failed to do so. Our hero
mmbly evaded the blows, acting entirely on the
defensive and when Stoker at length paused, pant-
ing, the hammytoor was standing before him quite
cool, and with the grim look intensified

shot forth a blow which one of the juvenile by.
standers described as a « stinger on the beak f "

The owner of the beak felt it so keenly, that he
lost temper and made another savage assault, which
was met m much the same way, with this difference
that his opponent delivered several more stingers'
on the unfortunate beak, which after that would
have been more correctly described as a bulb

Again the ex-pugilist paused for breath, and again
the "hammytoor" stood up before him smilin<.

more grimly than ever— .mntinr. « k^.i. ... _• , °
- ^— ^-..^ ^ xiuwc, ib 13 true,

but quite unscathed about the face, for he had

888

CHAHLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

guarded it with great care although he had received
some rather severe body blows.

Seeing this, Stoker descended to mean practices,
and in his next assault attempted, and with par-
tial success, to hit below the belt. This roused a
spirit of indignation in Charlie, which gave strength
to his arm and vigour to his action. The next time
Stoker paused for breath, Charlie— as the juvenile
bystander remarked—" went for him," planted a blow
under each eye, a third on his fr rehead, and a
fourth on his chest, with such astounding rapidity
and force that the man was driven up against the
wall with a crash that shook the whole edifice.

Stoker dropped and remained stiU. There were
no seconds, no sponges or calling of time at that
encounter. It was altogether an informal episode,
and when Charlie saw his antagonist drop, he
kneeled down beside him with a feeling of anxiety
lest he bad killed him.

"My poor man," he said, "are you much
hurt?"

« Oh ! you Ve no need to fear for me," said Stoker
recovering himself a little, and sitting up—" but I
throw up the sponge. Stoker's day is over w'en
'e's knocked out o' time by a hammytoor, and Zook
is free to bile 'is pot unmorlested in futur'."

" Come, it was worth a fight to bring you to that

state of mind, my man," said Charlie, laughing.

xlere, two of you, help to take him down and wash

I received

practices,
vith par-
roused a
I strength
lext time
! juvenile
ed a blow
i, and a
rapidity
ainst the
ice.

ere were

at that

episode,

Irop, he

' anxiety

I much

i Stoker
-" but I
jr w'en
id Zook

to that
LUghing.
id wash

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 339

the ul^^^^ T r? '"' ^^"'^'^^ ^ «°-«reign to
the juvenile bystander already mentioned "lout
and buy sausages for the whole company.'' ' "'

oZ wit^ '"'' '^ '^' ^^°S looked at each

rebound of TT ''^"^"°'^^' ''' ^^-^-> ^n the

than an hour thereafter ^^

most of the paupers were asleep in their poor beds
dreaming, perchance, of '■ better days " when pork
sausages were not so tremendous a trTat S
Zook we„, to the table at which Charlie 1 h

the game 's np wi' you, whatever it was." '

p .

I i. ;i

»i™

I Hi

■^i ii^'

890

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

" What d' you mean, Zook ? "
" Well, I just mean that it 's o' no manner o' use
your tryin' to sail any longer under false colours in
this here establishment."

" I must still ask you to explain yourself," said
Charlie, with a puzzled look.

"Well, you know," continued the little man, with
a deprecatory glance, "w'en a man in ragged clo'so
orders people here about asif 'e was the commander-
in-chief o' the British Army, an' flings yellow boys
about as if 'e was chancellor o' the checkers, an'
orders sassengers offhand for all 'ands, 'e mai/ be a
gfentleman-— wery Hkely 'e is,— but 'e ain't a redooced
one, such as slopes into lodgin'-'ouse kitchens.
W'atever little game may 'ave brought you 'ere,
sir, it ain't poverty— an' nobody will be fool enough
in this 'ouse to believe it is."

"You are right, Zook. I'm sorry I forgot my-
self," returned Charlie, with a sigh. "After all, it
does not matter much, for I fear my little game-
as you call it— was nearly played out, and it does
not seem as if I were going to win."

Charlie clasped his hands on the table before him,
and looked at the newspaper some what disconsolately.
" It 's bin all along o' takin' up my cause," said
the little man, with something like a whimper in
his voice. "You've bin wery kind to me, sir, an*
I 'd give a lot, if I 'ad it, an' would go a long way
if I warn't lame, to 'elp you."

ler o' use
olours in

3lf," said

lan, with
ed clo'so
mander-
ow boys
cers, an'
<iy be a
redooced
dtchens.
ou 'ere,
enough

jot my-
ir all, it
game —
i it does

)re him,
lolately.
B," said
nper in
sir, an'
ig way

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 391

Charlie looked steadily in the honest, pale, care-
worn tace of his companion for a few seconds with-
out speaking. Poverty, it is said, brings together
strange bed-fellows. Not less, perhaps, does it lead
to unhkely confidants. Under a sudden impulse
our hero revealed to poor Zook the cause of his
being there-concealing nothing except names.

"You'll 'scuse me, sir," said the little man, after
the narrative was finished, "but I think you've
gone on summat of a wild-goose chase, for your
man may never have come so low as to seek shelter
m sitch places."

"Possibly, Zook; but he was penniless, and this
or the work-house, seemed to me the natural place
to look for him in."

" 'Ave you bin to the work-'ouses, sir ? "

" Yes^at least to all in this neighbourhood."

"What! in that toggery ?" asked the little man
with a grin. '

"Not exactly, Zook, I can change my shell like
the hermit crabs."

"Well, sir, it's my opinion that you may go on
till doomsday on this scent an' find nuthin' ; but
there's a old 'ooman as I knows on that might be
able to 'elp you. Mind I don't say she could, but
she mi^Jit Moreover, if she can she will."

"How ?" asked Charlie, somewhat amused by the
earnestness of his little friend.

Why, this way, She 's a good old soul who

lost

303

If .

GIIAHLIE TO TFIE IIESOUE ; A TALK

er 'usband an' 'er son-if I ain't inistakcn-.throu"h
drmk, an' ever since, slio 'as devoted 'er«elf body
an' soul to save men an' women from drink. She
attends temperance meetin's an' takes people there
— a'most drags 'em in by the scruff o' the neck
She keeps 'er eyes open, like a weasel, an' w'enever
she sees a chance o' what she calls pluckin' a brand
out 0' the fire, she plucks it, without much regard
to burnm' 'er fingers. Sometimes she gits one an'
another to submit to her treatment, an' then she
locks 'em up in 'er 'ouse-though it ain't a big un
-an' treats 'em, as she calls it. She's got'^ono
there now, it's my belief, though w'ether it's a he
or a she I can't tell. Now, she may 'ave seen your
friend goin' about-if 'e stayed long in Whitechapel."
"It may be so," returned our hero wearily, for
he was beginning to lose heart, and the prospect
opened up to him by Zook did not on the first blush
of It seem very brilliant. "When could I see this
old woman ? "

"First thing to-morror arter breakfast, sir."
" Very well ; then you '11 come and breakfast with
me at eight ? "

"I will, sir, with all the pleasure in life. In this
'ere 'ouse, sir, or in a resterang ? "

''Neither. In my lodgings, Zook."

Having given his address to the little man, Charlie
bade him good-night and retired to his pauper-bed

for thft Ifiqf. iima

— throuf,']i
f«elf body
'ink. Sho
ople there
the neck.
' w'enovcr
i' n brand
ch regard
s one an'
then she
a big un

got one
it 's a he
een your
echapel."
arily, for
prospect
rst blush

see this

'ast with

In this

Charlie
iper-bed

OF THE SKA AND THE ROCKIES.

393

CHAPTEIl XXXII.

8UOCK6.8 AND FUTURK PLANS.

I'UNCTUAL to tho niinuto Zook presented him-
self to Mrs. Butt next morning and demanded
audience.

Mrs. Butt had been forewarned of the impending
visit and, although she confessed to some uncom-
lortable feelings in respect of infection and dirt
received him with a gracious air.

" You 've come to breakfast, I understand ? "
"Well, I believe I 'ave,» answered the little man
with an involuntary glance at his dilapidated
clothes; -avin' been inwited-unless," he added
somewhat doubtfully, "the inwite came in a
dream."

"You may go in and clear up that point for
yourself," said the landlady, as she ushered the
poor man into the parlour, where he was almost
startled to find an amiable gentleman waiting to
receive him. °

" Come along, Zook, I like punctuality. Are you

hungry ?

« '

Ungry

as a 'awk, sir," replied Zook, glancing at

\\l^

'lilllll

304 CHAULIE TO THE REflCUK : A TALE

tho table and rubbing hia hands, for tlicro entered
his nostrils delicious odours, the causes of which
very seldom entered his throat. " Wy. sir. I kiww'd
you was a gent, from tho wery first 1 "

"I have at least entered my native shell." said
Charlie, with a laugh. "Sit down. We've no
time to waste. Now what '11 you have ? Coffee,
tea, pork-sausage, ham and egg, buttered toast, hot
rolls. Just help yourself, and fancy you 're in the
lodging-house at your own table."

" Well, sir, that would be a stretch o' fancy that
would strain mo a'most to the bustin' p'int Coffee,
if you please. Oh yes, sugar an' milk in course.
I never let slip a chance as I knows on. W'ich
bread ? well, 'ot rolls is temptin', but I allers 'ad a
weakness for sappy things, so 'ot buttered toast—
if you can spare it."

"Spare it, my good man ? " said Charlie, laughing
"There's a whole loaf in the kitchen and pounds of
butter when you 've finished this, not to mention
the shops round the corner."

It was a more gratifying treat to Charlie than he
had ^pected, to see this poor man eat to his heart's
content of viands which he so thoroughly appreciated
and so rarely enjoyed. What Zook himself felt it
is impossible for well-to-do folk to conceive, or an
ordinary pen to describe ; but, as he sat there, opposite
to his big friend and champion, stowing away the
good things with zest and devoHnn of r^,1,^««« u

! I

PALE

tlioro entered
1868 of which
h sir, I ktww'd

shell," said
We *ve no

ivo ? Coffee,
red toast, hot
^ou're in the

o' fancy that
►'int Coffee,
ilk in course.
» on. Wich

1 allers 'ad a
ered toast —

lie, laughing.

id pounds of

to mention

'lie than he
5 his heart's
appreciated
nself felt it
ceive, or an
3re, opposite
g away the

nntmrvon •I*-

OK TU£ B«A AJTO THE ROCKIBft Sgg

^ easy to believe that l.is watery eyes u e charged
With the tears of gratitude as well aa with those of
a chronic cold to which ho was subject

Breakfast over, they started off in quest of the old
woman with teetotal proclivities.

Chlr^rJIf ^°" "°'"" '° '"""' •■«"" wked
Oiiarlie, as they went along.

"Through a 'ouse in the city as I was connected
with afore I got run over an' lamed. They used
to send me with parcels to this old 'ooman. In
cou..e I didn-t know for sartin' w'at was in the
parcels but avi_„- a nose, you see, an' bein' able to
smeU. I guessed that it was a compound o' wittlcs
an wursted work."
"A strange compound, Zook."
"WeU, they wasn't zactly compoundcd-they
was sometimes the one an' sometimes the other
never mixed to my knowledge."
" What house was it that sent you i "
"Withers and Co."

" Indeed 1" exclaimed Charlie in surprise. "I
know the house well. The head of it is a well-
';:;" f "-^ropist. how came you to leave
them ? They never would have allowed an old
servant to come to your pass-unless, indeed, he
was

"A fool, sir, or wuss," interrupted Zook; "an'
that sjust what I was. I rumied away from 'em,
-., ^^ ^ vu oeen asiiamed to go back since. But

806

oil ARLIK TO TlfK RKflCUI : A TALE

f?t?

that 'a 'ow I conio to know old Missis Mog. an' it 's
down 'cro sho lives."

They tuniod into a narrow pasflORo which led to
ft small court at the back of a mass of miserable
buildings, and here they found the residence of the
oM wonum.

" Hy the way, Zook, what 's hor name ? " asked
Charlie.

" Mrs. Mag Samson."

" Somehow the name sounds familiar to me," said
Charlie, as ho knocked at the door.

A very small girl opened it and admitted that her
missis was at 'ome; whereupon our hero turned to
his companion.

" I '11 manage her best without company, Zook,"
ho said; 'so you bo off; and see that you come to
my lodging to-night at six to hoar the result of
my interview and have tea."

"I will, sir."

" And here, Zook, put that in your pocket, and
take a good dinner."

"I will, sir."

"And— hallo! Zook, come here. Not a word
about all this in tlie lodging-house ;-stay, now I
think of it, don't go to the lodging-house at all.
Go to a casual ward wh 3re they '11 make you take a
good bath. Be sure you give yourself a good scrub.
D'ye hear?"
" Yes, sir."

. TALK

■ Mag, an' It's

which led to
^8 of misorablo
58idenco of the

name?" oakud

»r to mo," said

(litted that her
lero turned to

inpaiiy, Zook,"
you como to
tho result of

r pocket, and

Not a word
-stay, now I
blouse at all.
:o you take a
1 good scrub.

or TUB 8F-A AND THE nOCKflM. 397

He walked away nnirn,urin«. " More 'am and
hm an buttered toast to-night I Zook. you 're in
luck to.day-.in clover, n.y boy I in clover I"

Meanwhile. Charlie lirooke found hin.solf f„ tho
P-aencc of a bright-eyed little old won.n. wh bl
»um welcome with the native grace of one who is a

"Forgive rny intrusion, Mrs. Samson," he said
^k.ng t e chair to which the old wonmn poij
"but, indeed, I feel assured that you will when I

state that the object of my visit isl ask y;^^^^^^^^^^
m the rescue of a friend from drink."

"No man intrudes on me who comes on such an

errand; but how does it happen, sir, that you think
/ am able to aid you ? "

of h,8 m eting and conversation with Zook, and
followed that up with a fuU explanation of his recent
efforts and a graphic description of Isaac Leather
. ^'"^ "^^ """""n l^tened attentively, and, as her
visitor proceeded, with increasing i„tLt ;ot un
mingled with surprise and amusement

When he had concluded, Mrs. Sawson rose, and

opening a door leading to another room, held up her'

finger to impose silence, and softly bade him look in

He did so. The room was a very small one'

scantily furnished, with n ln» ,".T} °"''

398

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

•*f

corner, and there, on the bed, lay the object of his
quest— Isaac Leather ! Charlie had just time to see
that the thin pale face was not that of a dead but of
a sleeping man when the old woman gently pulled
him back and re-closed the door.
" That 's your man, I think."
"Yes, that's the man— I thank God for this
most astonishing and unlooked-for success."

"Ah I sir," returned the woman, sitting down
again, " most of our successes are unlooked for, and
when they do come we are not too ready to recog-
nise the hand of the Giver."

" Nevertheless you must admit that some incidents
do seem almost miraculous," said Charlie. " To have
found you out in this great city, the very person
who had Mr. Leather in her keeping, does seem
unaccountable, does it not ? "

" Not so unaccountable as it seems to you," replied
the old woman, "and certainly not so much of a
miracle as it would have been if you had found him
by searching the lodging-houses. Here is the way
that God seems to have brought it about. I have
for many years been a pensioner of the house of
Withers and Co., by whom I was employed until
the senior partner made me a sort of female city-
missionary amongst the poor. I devoted myself
particularly to the reclaiming of drunkards— having
special sympathy with them. A friend of mine.
Miss Molloy, also employed by the senior partner in

TALE

le object of his
just time to see
>f a dead but of
I gently pulled

God for this
ccess."

, sitting down
looked for, and
•eady to recog-

some incidents
rlie. "To have
le very person
ng, does seem

;o you," replied
so liiuch of. a
had found him
jre is the way
bout. I have
' the house of
tnployed until
f female city-
3voted myself
cards — having
iend of mine,
lior partner in

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 399

works Of charity, happened to be acquainted with
Mr Leather and his family. She knew of his failing
and she found out-for she has a strange power
that I never could understand of inducing people to
make a confidant of her.-she found out (what no
one else knew it seems) that poor Mr. Leather
wished to put himself under some sort of restraint,
for he could not resist temptation when it came in
his way. Knowing about me, she naturally advised
h.m to put himself in my hands. He oljected at
first, but agreed at last, on condition that none of
his people should be told anything about it. I did
not like to receive him on such conditions, but gave
m because he would come on no other. Well, sir you
came down here because you had information which
led you to think Mr. Leather had come to this
part of the city. You met with a runaway servant
of Withers and Co.-not very wonderful that. He
naturally knows about me and fetches you here.
Don't you see?"

"Yes, I see," replied Charlie, with an amused
expression; "still I cannot help looking on the
whole affair as very wonderful, and I hope that
that does not disqualify me from recognising God's
leading in the matter."

"Nay, young sir," returned the old woman, "that
ought rather to qualify you for such recognition for
are not His ways said to be wonderful-ay, some-

times * Daat finHinr* niif » 9 T*.,*. —t..

^ ^...^ „a« I i,ui, YiiisLn we Know not

400

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

■'III,'

now we shall know hereafter. I thought that when
my poor boy went to sea "

" Mrs. Samson !" exclaimed Charlie, with a sudden
start, " I see it now ! Was your boy's name Fred?"

"It was."

" And he went to sea in the Walrus, that was
wrecked in the Southern Ocean ? "

" Yes," exclaimed the old woman eagerly.

" Then," said Charlie, drawing a packet from the
breast-pocket of his coat, " Fred gave me this for you.
I have carried it about me ever since, in the hope
that I might find you. I came to London, but
found you had left the address written on the
packet, and it never occurred to me that the owners
of the Wcdrus would know anything about the
mother of one of the men who sailed in her. I
have a message also from your son."

The message was delivered, and Charlie was still
commenting on it, when the door of the inner room
opened and Isaac Leather stood before them.

"Charlie Brooke!" he exclaimed, in open-eyed
amazement, not unmingled with confusion.

"Ay, and a most unexpected meeting on both
sides," said Charlie, advancing and holding out his
hand. " I bring you good news, Mr. Leather, of your
son Shank."

"Do you indeed?" said the broken-down man,
eagerly grasping his young friend's hand. "What
have you to tell me ? Oh Charlie, you have no idea

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

401

that when

b a sudden
me Fred?"

I, that was

it from the
lis for you.
n the hope
mdon, but
en on the
the owners
about the
in her. I

ie was still
inner room
lem.
open-eyed
n.

Lg on both
ling out his
her, of your

down man,
d. "What
ave no idea

what terrible thoughts I've had about that dear
boy since he went off to America ! My sin has
found me out, Charlie. I've often heard that
said before, but have never fully believed it till
now."

" God sends you a message of mercy, then," said
our hero, who thereupon began to relieve the poor
man's mind by telling him of his son's welfare and
reformation.

But we need not linger over this part of the
story, for the reader can easily guess a good deal
of what was said to Leather, while old Mrs.
Samson was perusing the letter of her dead son,
and tears of mingled sorrow and joy coursed
down her withered cheeks.

That night, however, Charlie Brooke conceived a
vast idea, and partially revealed it at the tea-table
to Zook— whose real name, by the way, was Jim
Smith.

" 'Ave you found 'er, sir ? " said Mrs. Butt, putting
the invariable, and by that time annoying, question
as Charlie entered his lodging.

"No, Mrs. Butt, I haven't found 'er, and I don't
expect to find 'er at all."

" Lawk ! sir, I 'm so sorry."

" Has Mr. Zook come ? "

"Yes, sir 'e's inside and looks impatient. The
smell o' the toast seems a'most too strong a tempta-
tion for *im ; I 'm glad you 've come."

'"■V

.»!'■

'I' IP

402 CHAIULIK TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

"Look here, Zook," said Charlie, entering his
parlour, "go into that bedroom. You'll find a
bundle of new clothes there. Put them on. Wrap
your old clothes in a handkerchief, and bring them
to me. Tea will be ready when you are."

The surprised pauper did as he was bid, without
remark, and re-entered the parlour a new man I

" My own mother, if I 'ad one, wouldn't know
me, sir," he said, glancing admiringly at his vest.

"Jim Smith, Esquire," returned Charlie, laughing.
" I really don't think she would."
I "Zook, sir," said the little man, with a grave
shake of the head ; " couldn't think of changin' my
name at my time of life ; let it be Zook, if you
please, sir, though in course I 've no objection to
esquire, w'en I 'ave the means to maintain my

rank."

" Well, Zook, you have at all events the means
to make a good supper, so sit down and go to work,
and I '11 talk to you while you eat,— but, stay, hand
me the bundle of old clothes."

Charlie opened the window as he spoke, took hold
of the bundle, and discharged it into the back yard.

" There," he said, sitting down at the table, " that
will prove an object of interest to the cats all night,
and a subject of surprise to good Mrs. Butt in the
morning. Now, Zook," he added, when his guest was
fairly at work taking in cargo, " I want to ask you—
have you any objection to emigrate to America ? "

(ring hi3
11 find a
J. Wrap

ing them

[, without
nanl
n't know

.3 vest.

laughing.

1 a grave
angin' my
Dk, if you
)jection to
intain my

the means

to work,
3tay, hand

I, took hold
back yard,
ible, " that
s all night,
iutt in the
s guest was

1 ask you —
[nerica ?

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

403

"Not the smallest," he said — as well as was
possible through a full mouth. " Bein' a orphling, so
to speak, owin' to my never 'avin' 'ad a father or
mother — as I knows on-^there 's nothin* that chains
me to old England 'cept poverty.'*

" Could you do without drink ? "

"Sca'sely, sir, seein' the doctors say that man
is about three parts — or four, is it? — made up o'
water ; I would be apt to grow mummified without
drink, wouldn't I, sir ? "

"Come, Zook — you know that I mean strong
drink — alcohol in all its forms."

" Oh, I see. Well, sir, as to that, I 've bin in the
'abit of doin' without it so much of late from need-
cessity that I don't think I 'd find much difficulty
in knocking it off altogether if I was to bring prin-
ciple to bear."

" Well, then," continued Charlie, "(have some more
ham ?) I have just conceived a plan. I have a friend
in America who is a reformed drunkard. His father
in this country is also, I hope, a reformed drunkard.
There is a good man out there, I understand, who
has had a great deal to do with reformed drunkards,
and he has got up a large body of friends and sym-
pathisers who have determined to go away into the
far west and there organise a total abstinence com-
munity, and found a village or town where nothing
in the shape of alcohol shall be admitted except

act rfcliirain

p f

lisv!

404 CHARLIE TO THE llESCUE : A TALE

"Now, I have a lot of friends in England who,

I think, would go in for such an expedition if "'

"Are they all reformed drunkards, sir?" asked
Zook in surprise, arresting a mass of sausage in its
course as ho asked the question.

"By no mean ^.».rned Charlie with a laugh,
" but they are ear. douls, and I 'm sure will go if
I try to persuade them."

" You 're sure to succeed, sir," said Zook, " if your
persuasions is accompanied wi' sassengers, 'am, an'
buttered toast," remarked the little man softly, as
he came to a pause for a few seconds.
' " I '11 bring to bear on them all the arguments that
are available, you may be sure. Meanwhile I shall
count you my first recruit."

"No. 1 it is, sir, w'ich is more than I can say
of this here slice," said Zook, helping himself to
more toast.

While the poor but happy man was thus pleasantly
engaged, his entertainer opened his writing portfolio
and began to scribble oflf note after note, with such
rapidity that the amazed pauper at his elbow fairly
lost his appetite, and, after a vain attempt to recover
it, suggested that it might be as well for him to retire
to one of the palatial fourpence-a-night residences in
Dean and Flower Street.

" Not to-night. You 've done me a good turn that
I shall never forget," said Charlie, rising and ringing
the bell with needless vi^^our.

gland who,

on if "

ir?" asked
sago in its

h a laugli,
3 will go if

:, "if your

3, 'am, an'

softly, as

nents that
ile I shall

I can say
iimself to

)leasantly
[ portfolio
i^ith such
ow fairly
;o recover
1 to retire
dences in

f """""BtmiocKin. ,„

"Oh, lawks I no-this way," rcDlied fl,» .
woman, who was becoming almost imW , . ^°'^

No, thank you. Missis," replied th« vu-T

avm left my razors at 'ome I prefers the wat r cold "

Irving Zook to his meditations Mrs ZT * .

to bed, remarking, as she extin^uishld fhf .T

that Mr. Brooke was still "a-wrhTn- t ."'"""*'

fire!" a-writin like a 'ouso a

turn that
1 ringing

406

CnARLIB TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

•I '

CIIAriER XXXIII.

8WEBTWATBR BLUPP.

We muat now leap over a considerable space, not
only of distance, but of time, in order to appreciate
fully the result of Charlie Brooke's furious lettcr-
- writing and amazing powers of persuasion.

Let the reader try to imagine a wide plateau,
dotted with trees and bushes, on one of the eastern
slopes of the Rocky Mountains, where that mighty
range begins to slide into union with the great
prairies. It commands a view of mingled wood-
land and rolling plain, diversified by river and lake,
extending to a horizon so faint and far away as to
suggest the idea of illimitable space.

Early one morning in spring five horsemen
emerging from a belt of woodland, galloped to the
slope that led to the summit of this plateau.
Drawing rein, they began slowly to ascend. Two
of the cavaliers were young, tall, and strong ; two
were portly and old, though still hearty and vigor-
ous ; one, who led them, on a coal-black steed, was

_ zn -»4. r.'^r.nin\n-n /^f flio V>nnlrwrnnHs-TY\an. flud

one, who brought up the rear, was a thin little man,

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

407

space, not
appreciate
Dus lettcr-
i.

le plateau,
he eastern
lat mighty
the great
;led wood-
r and lake,
away as to

horsemen
ped to the
is plateau,
lend. Two
itrong; two

and vigor-
c steed, was
is-man; and
I little man.

who made up for what ho wanted in size by the
energy and vigour of his action, as, with hand and
heel, ho urged an unwilling horse to keep up with
the rest of the party.

Arrived at the summit of the plateau, the leading
horseman trotted to its eastern edge, and halted as
if for the purpose of surveying the position.

" Here we are at last," ho said, to the tallest of
his comrades ; " Sweetwater Bluff — and the end of
our journey ! "

" And a most noble end it is ! " exclaimed tho tall
comrade. " Why, Hunky Ben, it far surpasses my
expectations and all you have said about it."

" Most o' the people I 've had to guide over this
trail have said pretty much the same thing in
different words, Mr. Brooke," returned the scout,
dismounting. " Your wife will find plenty o' subjects
here for the paintin* she 's so fond of."

" Ay, May will find work here to keep her brushes
busy for many a day to come," replied Charlie,
"though I suspect that other matters will claim
most of her time at first, for there is nothirg but
a wilderness here yet."

" You *ve yet to lam, sir, that we don't take as
long to fix up a town hereaway as you do in the
old country," remarked Hunky Ben, as old Jacob
Crossley ambled up on the staid creature which we
have already introduced as Wheelbarrow.

Waving his hand with enthusiasm the old gentle-

408

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

P'i

man exclaimed, "Glorious!" Indeed, for a few
minutes ho sat with glistening eyes and heaving
chest, quite unablo to give vent to any other senti-
ment than "glorious!" This he did at intervals.
His interest in the scene, however, was distracted
by the sudden advent of Captain Stride, whose
horse—a long-legged roan— had an awkward
tendency, among other eccentricities, to advance
sideways with a waltzing gait, that greatly discon-
certed the mariner.

" Woa 1 you brute. Back your tops'ls, won't you ?
I never did see sitch a craft for heavin* about like
a Dutch lugger in a cross sea. She sails side on,
no matter where she's bound for. Forges ahead
a'most entirely by means of leeway, so to speak.
Hallo! woa! Ketch a grip o' the painter, Dick,
an' hold on till I git off the hurricane deck o' this
walrus— else I '11 be overboard in a . There "

The captain came to the ground suddenly as he
spoke, without the use of stirrup, and, luckily, with-
out injury.

" Not hurt, I hope ? " asked Dick Darvall, assistin^^
his brother-salt to rise.

"Not a bit of it, Dick. You see I'm a'most
as active as yourself, though double your age, if
not more. I say, Charlie, this is a pretty look-out.
Don't 'ee think so, Mr. Crossley ? I was sure that
Hunky Ben would find us a pleasant anchorage and
safe holding-ground at last, though it did seem

for a fuw
nd heaving
Dther senti-
t intervals.
} distracted
rido, whoso
awkward
to advance
Eitly discou-

won't you ?

about like
lils sido on,
rges ahead

to speak,
nter, Dick,
eck o' this

rhere "

lenly as ho
jkily, with-

11, assisting

'm a'most
our age, if
y look-out.
3 sure that
borage and

did seem

OF THE SEA AND TIFE ROCKIES. 409

as if wo was pretty long o' connu' to it Just as
wo was leavin' the waggins to rido on in advance
derend—' ' "^^^^^^-^^^ ^-Maggio, you may

"Hallo! Zook," cried Charlie, as the little man
of the s ums came limping up, "what have you
done with your horse ? "

"Cast 'im loose, sir. an' gi'n 'im leave of absence
^ long as e pleases. It 's my opinion that some o'
the osses o the western prairies ain't quite eekal to
some the 'osses I've bin used to in Eotten Row.
Is this the place, Hunky? Well, now," continued
the httle man, with flashing eyes, as he looked round
on the magnificent scene, "it '11 do. Beats W'ite-
chapel an' the Parks any'ow. An' there's lots o'
poultry about, too!" he added, as a flock of wild
ducks went by on whistling wings. " I say, Hunky
Ben, wat s yon brown things over there by the
shores o' the lake?"
" Buffalo," answered the scout.
"What! wilduns?"

" There 's no tame ones in them diggin's as I
knows on. If there was, they 'd soon become wild,
you bet." '

f.lt'^l ;^;^t'« yon monster crawlin' over the
farthest plain, like the great sea-serpent ? "
"Why, man," returned the scout, "them's the

waggms. Come. now. W.'a fo t^««i, ^^. _-. .i «
,.. ■., — ., „.^ truiik au git cne nre

1,'i mu ... **" 6^ i- Witt are

lit. The cart wi- the chuck an' tents "U be here in

i4 ^

410

OnXnT.II TO THK nKBCUl : A TAt.l

a few minutes, an* the waggios won't be loug artcr
'cm "

" Ay, wi* the women an* kids shontin* for grub,"
added Zook, as ho limped after the scout, while tho
rest of the little band dispersed — some to cut fire-
wood, others to select the best positions for tho tents.
The waggons, with a supply of food, arrived soon
after under tho care of Roaring Hull himself, with
two of his cowboys. They were followed by Butter-
cup, who bestrode, man- fash ion, a mustang nearly
as black as herself and even more frisky.

In a wonderfully short time a number of white
tents arose on tho plateau and several fires blazed,
and at all the fires Buttercup laboured with super-
human effect, assisted by the cowboys, to the
unbounded admiration of Zook, who willingly super-
intended everything, but did little or nothing. A
flat rock on tho highest point was chosen for the
site of a future block-house or citadel, and upon this
was ere long spread a breakfast on a magnificent
scale. It was barely ready when the first waggons
aifived and commenced to lumber up the ascent,
preceded by two girls on horseback, who waved
their hands, and gave vent to vigorous little
feminine cheers as they cantered up the slope.

These two were our old friends whom we knew
as May Leather and Mary Jackson, but who must
now be re-introduced to the reader as Mrs. Charlie
Brooke and Mrs. Dick DarvalL On the same day

OF Tire BRA AND TRR R0CKII8.

Dg artor

ir gnib,"
hilo tho
cut firo-
he tents,
ed soon
elf, with
Butter-
^ nearly

of white
3 blazed,
,h supor-
to the
y super-
ling. A
I for the
ipon this
gnificent
waggons
e ascent,
waved
13 little
pe.

we knew
'ho must
. Charlie
jHiue day

411

they had changed their names at tho Kanch of
Roaring Bull, and had come to essay wedded life in
t};o far west

Wo need hardly say that this was the great ox.
perimcntal emigrant party, led by tho Rev. William
Reeves, who had resolved to found a colony on
total abstinence principles, and with as many as
possible of the sins of civilisation left behind.
They found, alas I that sin is not so easily got rid
of; neverthelnss, the eflfort was not altogether fruit-
less, and Mr. Reeves carried with him a sovereign
antidote for sin in tho shape of a godly spirit.

The party was a largo one, for there were many
men and women of the frontier whose experiences
had taught them that life was happier and better
in every way without tho prevalent vices of gam-
bling and drinking.

Of course the emigrants formed rather a motley
band. Among them, besides those of our friends
already mentioned, there were our hero's mother
and all the Leather family. Captain Stride's
daughter as well as his " Missus," and Mr. Crossley's
housekeeper, Mrs. Bland. That good woman, how-
ever, had been much subdued and rendered harmless
by the terrors of the wilderuci ) which she had
been recently exposed. Miss Moiloy was also there,
with an enormous supply of knitting needles and
several bales of worsted.
Poor Shank Leather was still so much of an in-

413

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

i f.

': %

valid as to be obliged to travel in a spring cart with
his father, but both men were rapidly regaining
physical strength under the influence of temperance,
and spiritual strength under a higher power.

Soon the hammer, axe, and saw began to resound
in that lovely western wilderness ; the net to sweep
its lakes ; the hook to invade its rivers ; the rifle to
crack in the forests, and the plough to open up its
virgin soil. In less time, almost, than a European
would take to wink, the town of Sweetwater Bluff
sprang into being; stores and workshops, a school
and a church, grew up like mushrooms ; seed was
sown, and everything, in short, was done that is
characteristic of the advent of a thriving com-
munity. But not a gambling or drinking saloon, or
a drop of firewater, was to be found in all the town.

In spite of this, Indians brought their furs to it ;
trappers came to it for supplies ; emigrants turned
aside to see and rest in it; and the place soon
became noted as a flourishing and pre-eminently
peaceful spot.

OP THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

413

; cart with
regaining
mperance,
er.

bo resound
b to sweep
ihe rifle to
pen up its
European
ater Bluff
, a school
seed was
e that is
ing com-
saloon, or
the town,
nrs to it ;
its turned
lace soon
jminently

CHAPTEE XXXIV.

TBK LAST.

Br/T a Uttle cloud arose ere long on the horuon
of Sweetwater Bluff. Insignificant at first, it sud-
denly spread over the sky and burst in a wUd storm.

The fi„t intimation of its approach came from
Charlie Brooke one quiet autumn evening, in that
brief hut delightful season known as the Indian
oummer.

Charlie entered his garden that evening with a
fowlmg-pieoe on his shoulder, and two brace of
prairie hens at his girdle. May was seated at her
cottage door, basking in sunshine, chatting with her
mother-who was knitting of course-and Shank
was convening with Hunky Ben, who rested after
a day of labour.

"There, May, is to-morrow's dinner," said Charlie
throwing the birds at his wife's feet, and sitting
down beside her. "Who d'you think I passed
when I was out on the plains to-day, Hunky?
Your old friend Crux the Cowboy."

"He '8 no friend o' mine," said the scout, while

414

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

something like a frown flitted across his usually
placid brow. " I 'm not over pleased to hear that
he 's comin', for it 's said that some old uncle or
aunt o' his — I forget which — has left him a lot o'
dollars. I hope he ain't comin' to spend 'em here,
for he'd never git along without gamblin' an'
drinkinV'

" Then, I can tell you that ho is just coming to
stay here," returned Charlie, "for he has several
waggons with him, and a dozen men. I asked him
where he was going to, and he said, to locate him-
self as a store-keeper at Sweetwater Bluff; but he
did not seem inclined to be communicative, so I left
him and galloped en to report the news. What
d' you think about it 1 "

" I think it '11 be a bad day for Sweetwater Bluff
when Crux comes to settle in it. Howsoever, this
is a free country, an' we've no light to interfere
with him so long as he don't break the laws. But
I c^oubt him. I *m afeard he '11 try to sell drink, an'
there's some o' our people who are longin* to git
back to that."

The other members of the party, and indeed
those heads of the town generally who knew Crux,
were of much the same opinion, but some of them
thought that, being in a free country, no one had a
right to interfere. The consequence was that Crux
and his men were permitted to go to work. They
hired a shed in which to stow their goods, while

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES.

415

lis usually
I hear that
i uncle or
im a lot o'
I 'em here,
nblin' an'

coming to
las several
asked him
ocate him-
iff; but he
^e, so I left
'S. What

vater Bluff
soever, this

interfere
laws. But

1 drink, an'
gin* to git

nd indeed
:new Crux,
ne of them
> one had a
\ that Crux
ovk. They
lods, while

they were engaged in building a store, and in course
of time this was finished ; but there was a degree of
mystery about the ex-cowboy's proceedings which
baffled investigation, and people did not like to press
inquiry too far ; for it was observed that all the men
who had accompanied Crux were young and powerful
fellows, well armed with rifle and revolver.

At last, however, the work was finished, and the
mystery was cleared up, for, one fine morning, the
new store was opened as a drinking and gambling
saloon; and that same evening the place was in
full swing— sending forth the shouts, songs, cursing
and demoniac laughter for which such places are
celebrated.

Consternation filled the hearts of the community,
for it was not only the men brought there by Crux
who kept up their revels in the new saloon, but a
sprinkling of the spirited young fellows of the town
also, who had never been very enthusiastic in the
temperance cause, and were therefore prepared to
fall before the first temptation.

At a conference of the chief men of the town it
was resolved to try to induce Crux to quit quietly,
and for this end to offer to buy up his stock-in-trade!
Hunky Ben, being an old acquaintance, was re-
quested to go to the store as a deputation.

But the ex-cowboy was inexorable. Neither the
offer of money nor argument had any effect on him.

" Well, Crux," said the scout, at the conclusion of

416

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

I I

his visit, "you know your own affairs best, but,
rememberin' as I do what you used to bo, I thought
there was more of fair-play about you."

" Fair-play 1 What d' ye mean ? "

" I mean that when folk let you alone, you used
to be willin' to let therm alone. Here has a crowd
0* people come back all this way into the Rockies
to escape from the curse o' strong drink and gamblin',
an' here has Crux— a lover o* fair-play — come all
this way to shove that curse right under their noses.
I *d thowt better of \'e. Crux, lad."

"It don't matter much what you thowt o* me,
old man," returned the cowboy, somewhat sharply ;
" an', as to fair-play, there 's a lot of men here who
don't agree wi* your humbuggin' notions about
temperance an* tee-totalism — more of 'em, maybe,
than you think. These want to have the drink, an'
I 've come to give it *em. I see nothin' unfair in that."

Hunky Ben carried his report back to the council,
which for some time discussed the situation. As in
the case of most councils, there was some difference
of opinion : a few of the members being inclined to
carry things with a high hand — being urged thereto
by Captain Stride — while others, influenced chiefly
by Mr. Eeeves, were anxious to try peaceable means.

At last a sub-committee was appointed, at Hunky
Ben's suggestion, to consider the whole matter, and
take what steps seemed advisable. Hunky was an
adroit and modest man — he could not have been a
first-rate scout otherwise! He managed not only

best, but,
I thought

I, you used
IS a crowd
le Eockies
d gamblin',
—come all
their noses.

3wt o* me,
it sharply;
1 here who
ions about
jm, maybe,
) drink, an*
air in that."
the council,
Lon. As in
} difference
inclined to
ged thereto
Lced chiefly
Eible means.
, at Hunky
matter, and
iky was an
ave been a
id not only

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 4 1 7

to become convener of the committee, but succeeded
in getting men chiefly of his own opinion placed on it
At supper that night in Charlie's cottage, while
enjoying May's cookery and presence, and waited
on by the amused and interested Buttercup, the
sub-committee discussed and settled the plan of
operations.

" It 's all nonsense," said Hunky Ben, " to talk of
tryiu' to persuade Crux. He's as obstinate as a
Texas mule wi' the toothache."

" Rubbish ! » exclaimed Captain Stride, smiting the
table with his fist. " We mustn't parley with him.
but heave him overboard at once ! I said so to my
missus this very day. * Maggie,' says I "

"And what do ym think, Charlie?" asked Mr.
Crossley.

" I think with Hunky Ben, of course. He knows
Crux, and what is best to be done in the circumstances.
The only thing that perplexes me is what shall we
do with the liquor when we've paid for it? A lot
of it is good wine and champagne, and although
useless as a beverage it is useful as a medicine, and
might be given to hospitals."

" Pour it out ! " exclaimed Shank, almost fiercely.

" Ay, the hospitals can look out for themselves,"
added Shank's father warmly.

" Some hospitals, I 've bin told, git on well enough
without it altogether," said Dick Darvall. « How-
ever, it's a subject that desarves consideration.—

418

CHABUE TO THE RESCUE : A TALE

Hallo ! Buttercup, what is it that tickles your fancy
an' makes your mouth stretch out like that ? "

Buttercup became preternaturally grave on the
instant, but declined to tell what it was that tickled
her fancy.

Shortly after the party rose and left the house,
Hunky Ben remarking, with a quiet laugh, that deeds
of darkness were best hatched at night.

What the conspirators hatched became pretty
evident next day, for, during the breakfast hour, a
band of forty horsemen rode slowly down the sloping
road which led to the plains, and on the side of
which Crux had built his saloon.

Crux and his men turned out in some surprise to
watch the cavalcade as it passed. The band was
led by Charlie Brooke, and the scout rode in advance
on Black Polly as guide.

" Is it the Keds or the Buffalo you 're after to-day,
Hunky, with such a big crowd ? " asked Crux.

" Halt ! " cried Charlie, at that moment.

TJie forty men obeyed, and, turning suddenly to
the left, faced the saloon.

"Hands up!" said Charlie, whose men at the
same moment pointed their rifles at Crux and his
men. These were all too familiar with the order to
dare to disobey it.

Our hero then ordered a small detachment of his
men to enter the saloon and fetch out all rifles and
pistols, and those of Crux's, people who chanced to
have their weapons about them were disarmed.

rour fancy
it?"

ve on the
lat tickled

the house,
that deeds

ne pretty
Lst hour, a
ihe sloping
le side of

lurprise to
band was
in advance

ter to-day,
rux.

iddenly to

en at the
X and his
le order to

ent of his
rifles and

ihanced to
disarmed.

OF THE SEA AND THE ROCKIES. 419

Another detachment went off to the stables behind
the saloon.

While they were thus engaged Charlie addressed
Crux.

"We have decided to expel you, Crux, from this
town, he said, as he drew an envelope from his
pocket. "We have tried to convince you that
as the majority of the people here don't want you'
It IS your duty to go. As you don't seem to see'
this we now take the law into our own hands. We
love fair-play, however, so you will find in this
envelope a cheque which we have reason to believe
18 fully equal to the value of your saloon and all its
contents. Your lost time and trouble is your own
affair. As you came without invitation, you must
go without compensation. Here are your rifles, and
revolvers, emptied of cartridges, md there are your
horses saddled."

As he spoke, one detachment of his men handed
rifles and revolvers to the party, who were stricken
dumb with amazement. At the same time, their
horses, saddled and bridled, were led to the front
and delivered to them.

"We have no provisions," said Crux, at last
recovering the use of his tongue; "and without
ammunition we cannot procure any."

" That has been provided for," said our hero
turning to Hunky Ben.

"Ay, Crux," said the. scout, "we don't want to
starve you, though the 'arth wouldn't 1-- ^ i'

420

CHARLIE TO THE RESCUE : A TALB

we did. At the other end o' the lake, about five
mile from here, you '11 find a red rag fiyiu' at the
branch of a tree. In the hole of a rock close beside
it you'll find three days' provisions for you and
your men, an' a lot of ammunition."

"Now, mount and go," said Charlie, "and if you
ever show face here again, except as friends, your
blood be on your own heads ! "

Crux did not hesitate. He and his men saw that
"the game was up"; without another word they
mounted their horses and galloped away.

While this scene was being enacted a dark
creature, with darker designs, entered the drinking
saloon and descended to the cellar. Finding a
spirit-cask with a tap in it, Buttercup turned it on,
then, pulling a match-box out of her pocket she
muttered, " I t'ink de hospitals won't git much ob it!"
and applied a light. The effect was more powerful
than she had expected. The spirit blazed up with
sudden fury, singeing off the girl's eyebrows and
lashes, and almost blinding her. In her alarm But-
tercup dashed up to the saloon, missed her way, and
found herself on the stair leading to the upper floor.
A cloud of smoke and fire forced her to rush up.
She went to the window and yelled, on observing
that it was far too high to leap. She rushed to
another window and howled in horror, for escape
was apparently impossible.

Charlie heard the howl. He and his men had
retired to a safe distance when the fire was first ob-

OP THE SEA AND THK KOCKIR.S.

421

about five
ill' at the
ioso beside
• you and

and if you
lends, your

n saw that
word they

d a dark
e drinking
Finding a
irned it on,
pocket she
mchobit!"
:e powerful
;ed up with
jbrows and
alarm But-
er way, and
upper floor,
to rush up.
n observing
e rushed to
, for escape

is men had
jvas first ob-

served—thinking the place empty—but the howl
touched a chord in our hero's sympathetic breast,
which was over ready to vibrate. From whom the
liowl proceeded mattered little or nothing to Charlie
Brooke. Sufficient that it was the cry of a living
being in distress. He sprang at once through the
open doorway of the saloon, through which was
issuing a volume of thick smoke mingled with flame.
" God help him I the place '11 blow up in a few
minutes," cried Hunky Ben, losing, for once, his
imperturbable coolness, and rushing wildly after his
friend. But at that moment the thick smoke burst
into fierce flame and drove him back.

Charlie sprang up the staircase three steps at a
time, holding his breath to avoid suflocation. He
reached the landing, where Buttercup ran, or, rather,
fell, almost fainting, into his arms. At the moment
an explosion in the cellar shook the building to its
foundation, and, shattering one of the windows,
caused a draught of air to drive aside the smoke.'
Charlie gasped a mouthful of air and looked round!
Flames were by that time roaring up the only stair-
case. A glance from the nearest window showed
that a leap thence meant broken limbs, if not death,
to both. A ladder up to a trap-door suggested an
exit by the roof. It might only lead to a more
terrible leap, but meanwhile it offered relief from
imminent suffocation. Charlie bore the half-dead
girl to the top rung, and found the trap-door pad-
locked, but a thrust from his powerful shoulder

422

CIIAULIK TO TIIK IlESCUK : A TALI

wrenched hasp and padlock from their hold, and
next moment a wild cheer greeted him as he stood
on a corner of the gable. But a depth of forty or
fifty feet wtt3 below him with nothing to break his
fall to the hard earth.

"Jump!" yelled one of the onlookers. "No;
don't!" cried another, "you'll be killed"

" Hold your noise," roared Huuky Ben, " and lend
a hand here— sharp! — the house '11 blow up in a

minute."

He ran as he spoke towards a cart which was
partly filled with hay. Seizing the trams he raised
them. Willing hands helped, and the cart was run
violently up against the gable — Hunky shouting to
some of the men to fetch more hay.

But there was no time for that. Another ex-
plosion took place inside the building, which Charlie
knew must have driven in the sides of more casks and
let loose fresh fuel. A terrible roar, followed by
ominous cracking of the roof, warned him that there
was no time to lose. He looked steadily at the cart
for a moment and leaped. His friends held their
breath as the pair descended. The hay would not
have suflficed to break the fall sufficiently, but happily
the cart was an old one. When they came down
on it like a thunderbolt the bottom gave way.
Crashing through it the pair came to the ground,
heavily indeed, but uninjured !

The fall, which almost stunned our hero, had the

lold, and

he stood

f forty or

break his

:8. "Noj

and lend
up in a

hich was
he raised
b was run
outing to

other ex-
ih Charlie
casks and
lowed by
that there
it the cart
leld their
should not
it happily
,ine down
[ave way.
e ground,

0* THE 8EA AND TIIK ROCKIM. 438

curious efToct of reviving Buttercup, for she muttered
•ometliing to the effect that "dat was a nios' drefful
smash " as they conveyed her and her rescuer from
the vicinity of danger.

This had scarcely been done when the house blew
up— its walls were driven outwards, its roof was
blown ofr, its bottles were shattered, all its baleful
contents were scattered around, und, amid an ap-
propriato hurricane of blue fire, that drinking and
gambling saloon was blown to atoms.

Would that a like fate might overtake every
similar estttblis'\ment in the world !

This was the first and last attempt to disturb the
peace of Sweetwater Bluff. It is said, indeed, that
Crux and some of his men did, long afterwards, make
their appearance in that happy and flourishing town,
but they came as reformed men, not as foes—men
who had found out that in vary truth sobriety tends
to felicity, that honesty is the best policy, and that
the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.

THE END.

), had the

Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty,
at the Edinburgh University Press.