Title: Colonel Crockett, the Texan trailer - Beadle's pocket novels No. 99
Author: Lasalle, Chas. E.
Language: English
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  COLONEL CROCKETT,
  THE TEXAN TRAILER.


  BY CHAS. E. LASALLE.


  NEW YORK:
  BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
  98 WILLIAM STREET.



  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
  BEADLE AND COMPANY,
  In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.



THE TEXAN TRAILER.



CHAPTER I.

COLONEL CROCKETT ON A BEAR-HUNT.


"I say, stranger, did you see any thing of a confounded big b'ar
passing this way?"

The question was uttered by Davy Crockett, the renowned bear-killer
of Tennessee, as, dashing at full speed through the dense forest, he
suddenly emerged into a small clearing, where a big Dutchman sat on a
log eating his dinner. The latter stared at the glowing hunter for a
moment, and with his mouth crammed so full that he could hardly speak,
he said:

"Hooh! vat you said?"

"Did you see a b'ar pass this way, a few minutes ago?"

"Vat kind of a bear vas he?"

"A black bear and a regular whopper."

"Vas he goin' py hees legs, or vas he flyin' mit his wings?"

Crockett stared at the Dutchman, as if meditating whether to bring him
to his senses or not by breaking his gun over his head; but there was
such an appearance of honesty in his countenance, that, despite his
hurry, he paused to exchange a word or two with him.

"Dutchy, did you ever see a bear?"

"Yaw, I vos."

"Did you ever see one fly through the air?"

"Yaw--more as goot many times."

"When?"

"I see'd one only next day after yisterday. He had wings so big as
never vos, and had von sheep dat he hold fast mit his toes."

Crockett laughed.

"You old Dutch blunderbuss, you mean an _eagle_."

"Yaw; vot kinds does I means?"

"A _bald-headed_ eagle, I suppose."

"Yaw--dat's him; ef he _bald_-headed, den he _bare_-headed, ain't he?"

"I suppose."

"Den he eagle vot was _bare_--hooh? vot you call him?"

"Yes."

"Den he _bear_ mit wings."

And the Dutchman laughed, as though he had said something extremely
funny, while Crockett was amused in spite of himself.

"Vos he great pig bear, mit four legs?" inquired the Hollander,
suddenly becoming serious again.

"Yes--a ring-tailed roarer."

"And he hop along so?" he continued, dropping on his hands and feet and
hopping along like a frog.

"Something like that," assented Crockett.

"And his mouth open, mit his tongue hanging in?"

"Yes--yes: which way did he go?"

"Yaw; I hash not seen notting of him!"

And again the Dutchman laughed until he was ready to fall off the log,
all the while cramming his mouth with food.

There was no little humor in Colonel Crockett, and the round fat
Dutchman, shaking with laughter, like so much jelly, was more then he
could stand, and throwing back his head, he made the forest ring with
his own mirth.

This made Hans Bungslager go it harder then ever, till finally he
capsized--and tipping over the log backward, the last Crockett saw
of him, as he moved away, was his dumpy legs beating the air, as he
sought to complete his partial summerset so as to rise to the standing
position again.

But Colonel Crockett was seeking the trail of the most enormous bear he
had seen since coming into Texas, and as he had a special anxiety to
secure and take it back to camp, he was fearful of losing too much time.

So, without cultivating the acquaintance of Bungslager any further, he
turned his back upon him and struck into the woods, making for a point
where he believed there was a good prospect of finding his prey.

I may say, to relieve all anxiety of the reader, that Hans finally
succeeded in turning over on his face, and regaining his feet. He was
very nearly choking, however, from the food which had gone the "wrong
way," and, when he finally recovered his self-command, and looked
around for the American hunter, he had vanished like a phantom.

All this was some thirty odd years ago. The eccentric Colonel Crockett,
who had served several terms in Congress, had been disappointed of a
reëlection, and had left Tennessee and gone off to the territory, or
rather republic, of Texas, there to join the Texans who were gallantly
struggling for their independence against Santa Anna, and the hordes of
Mexicans that were overrunning the country.

Crockett was a born hunter, and when he reached this part of the world,
he found there was an abundance of game--so much that he was tempted to
linger by the way, and delay his visit to the Alamo, which was doomed
to make such a wonderful struggle against the overwhelming forces that
were marshaling against it.

He, with several friends, was therefore off on a several days' hunt in
the wilds of eastern Texas. He had joined a party on their way to the
Alamo, but while they halted at a small village some miles back, he had
gone on with several others to take part in a grand hunt.

In that vast State, as is well known, are found buffaloes, deer, pumas,
ocelots, jaguars, wild-cats, black bears, wolves, foxes, raccoons,
opossums, rabbits, hares, squirrels, antelope, mountain goats and
moose; besides, prairie-hens, wild geese, wild turkeys, brant, teal,
canvas-back ducks, pheasants, quails, partridges, grouse, woodcock,
pigeons, turtle-doves, rice-birds, and numerous others--to which may
be added murderous Mexicans, and equally murderous and more daring
Comanches, Apaches and other tribes, so that there was a good
prospect of Crockett and his friends securing all the sport that they
could possibly wish.

Starting off together, they had gone but a short distance when they
discovered a dozen buffaloes grazing on the slope of a hill, about a
quarter of a mile distant, and the whole parted, dashed away in pursuit.

The buffaloes took the alarm, and while yet a good ways off, thundered
away at full speed, leading the hunters on quite a long chase. They
were in full tilt after them, when the keen eye of Colonel Crockett
detected an immense bear on his right, making for the cover of a dense
tract of forest.

Davy Crockett had a weakness for bears; he had slain his hundreds in
the wilds of Tennessee, and he preferred hunting them to any species of
game known. So the instant he caught sight of this monster, he shouted:

"Go ahead after the buffaloes, and I'll chase the bear."

With which he turned his mustang to the right, and sped away in pursuit
of his favorite prey.

But bruin had a good start, and made such good time that he plunged
into the wood several hundred yards in advance of Crockett, who
strained every point to catch up with the frightened brute.

It was of no avail, however, and hurrying in a short distance among the
trees, Crockett found the wood too dense to continue the pursuit on
horseback; and, determined not to lose his sport in this way, he leaped
to the ground, hastily fastened his bridle to a limb, and continued the
pursuit on foot.

His skill enabled him to keep on the trail of the bear, without
trouble, until, while running at full speed, he dashed into the
clearing, where Hans Bungslager was eating his dinner on the log. The
particulars of their interview have been given.

In his great haste, and in dodging in and out among the trees and
undergrowth, Crockett had gotten off the trail of the bear, and was
hunting for it when he ran against Hans Bungslager. He knew that he
could not be far from his game, and that by running across the general
direction he had been following he was certain of intersecting it.

This he did, and, as he anticipated, met with success, almost
immediately. Such a large animal as a bear, and especially this one,
could not fail to leave a perceptible trail, which the keen eyes of
Crockett were quick to detect.

The hunter was deprived of one great advantage. When hunting in the
Tennessee canebrakes, he was always accompanied by a number of dogs,
that were sure to "tree" their game very quickly and to afford the
greatest assistance in the hunt. But now he had not a single yelper
with him, and was compelled to rely on himself entirely.

Hark! He heard the crackling of twigs and brush ahead--evidence that he
was gaining rapidly upon his prey. He bent to the pursuit with renewed
ardor, and, although he could not see the bear, he knew that he was
close upon him.

On, on dashed the hunter, tearing through the underbrush, with scarcely
a halt to turn aside, until a wild scream of agony made his blood
tingle, and leaping into a small clearing the next instant, he beheld a
scene so exciting in its character that it almost stopped the beating
of his heart.



CHAPTER II.

IN CLOSE QUARTERS.


The bear seemed to know that a dangerous enemy was upon his track, and
was not only frightened but infuriated by the fact. In his aimless
flight, he came directly upon a small clearing, in the center of which
stood a log-cabin cottage, surrounded by a small patch of cultivated
ground.

At the very moment of his appearance, a lithe, handsome young lady was
passing across this clearing with a pail of water in her hand. Catching
sight of the bear, she uttered a shrill scream of terror, that caught
Crockett's ear, and ran at full speed for the open door of her cabin,
while the exasperated brute, with a growl of fury, made for her.

The girl was fleet of foot, and seemed to run with the speed of the
wind; but the bear was so close upon her, that, when she darted into
the door she had not time to close it behind her.

As Davy Crockett sprung into the clearing he caught a glimpse of the
girl as she vanished through the door, and saw the huge brute lunging
after her. As quick as thought his rifle was at his shoulder, and he
blazed away at his hind quarters, so rapidly disappearing from view.

It would have been better if the shot had not been fired, for, striking
the monster in the haunch, it did not inflict even a dangerous wound,
and only succeeded in adding to the fury of the animal, whose rage was
already at the boiling-point.

The hunter saw him twitch from the stinging pain, as, with an ominous,
cavernous growl, he disappeared in the cabin, from whose interior were
heard the heart-rending shrieks of the terror-stricken girl.

Crockett became desperate. His rifle was of no further use, and
throwing it aside, he threw his arm back of his neck, and drew forth an
awful-looking knife--a genuine Bowie, presented to the hunter by the
daring little inventor himself.

"Panthers and wildcats!" he exclaimed, as he ran like a deer across
the clearing; "that bear has got into the wrong pen, and ef he isn't
got out in a hurry, he'll raise the biggest kind of a rumpus, which I
rather reckon he's doing now!"

In a twinkling, he was at the door, and without hesitation sprung
within. Only a glance was needed to understand the situation.

The fair fugitive, upon reaching the interior of the cabin, had felt
instinctively that there was no safety upon the lower floor, and had
gone up the stairs in the corner, in a more expeditious manner than she
had ever done before.

The bear evidently had not seen her, and was nosing around for her in
the lower apartment. When the hunter bounded into the room, he was the
very man he wanted to see and he "went for him."

Crockett had been in a hand-to-hand struggle before with these
creatures and he knew what they were. He wasn't particularly anxious to
be caught at a disadvantage, so when the brute made a plunge at him,
he dodged and slipped aside, the bear striking with such force against
the door that it was banged to, and the two contestants were thus shut
together.

"Come up-stairs! quick!" shouted the same voice that had uttered the
screams. "Come quick or you will be killed! he will have you sure, if
you don't hurry!"

Now, if this same voice had only remained quiet, it is not at all
improbable that Crockett might have retreated up-stairs; but, with
his characteristic stubbornness, he determined to pay no heed to this
appeal, while at the same time he was actuated by a suspicion that
perhaps the bear might invade this retreat, and thus endanger the young
lady whom he was so anxious to befriend.

"Never mind me," he called out, as he dodged to the other side of the
room and kept his eyes fixed keenly upon his antagonist. "I've been
in this kind of business afore, but look out the brute don't find out
where you are, for I don't blame him for wanting to swaller such a
purty piece."

The girl didn't appeal to him any more: doubtless she concluded she was
only wasting her breath.

The lower floor, I should remark, was like the ordinary apartments of
the log-cabins on the frontier. One large room occupied the lower part
of the building, and here were the fire-place, closet, table, chairs
and various domestic articles.

Crockett glanced at the fire-place in the hope of finding some
embers there, but one look showed that the young lady had made her
preparations for kindling a fire, but the light had not yet been
applied; so that means of defense was thereby rendered unavailable.

But he still grasped his huge Bowie, all-potent in his hands, and he
concluded it was time his formidable enemy was made to feel its point.

The bear did not permit him to remain idle long, but turning with
wonderful quickness for such a lumbering animal, he reared on his hind
legs, and with his red mouth open and growling voice, came in a direct
line toward him.

Every thing was now to be sacrificed for defense, and catching up the
table, Crockett slammed it full in the face of the bear, and then
darting nimbly forward, plunged his knife half-way to the hilt in
his body. He would have driven it to the handle, had not the point
encountered a bone.

Having no time to repeat the blow, he withdrew the weapon, and leaped
backward, just in time to escape the furious lunge of the brute. The
blood poured in a stream from the frightful wound made, but the bear
seemed to feel no loss of strength and to be unconscious of the hurt he
had received.

A few more such blows, however, were only needed to "settle the hash"
of the creature, and Crockett now endeavored to inflict them as
speedily as possible, without receiving any return.

The bear was awkward in his movements, but there was also a certain
swiftness that made it exceedingly dangerous to his antagonist. At
the same time, his size compelled more dexterity upon the part of
Crockett, who leaped and danced about the room like an acrobat on
exhibition.

Finding himself in a corner, the hunter was forced to dart so close to
the bear that its descending paw grazed his back and tore off a few
strips from his hunting-shirt, and a twinge or two of pain, reminded
him of what was in store for him, if the brute once got him in his
embrace.

Again the knife sunk deeply into the body of the bear, being driven
this time from the back, and sent in with such vigor, that it produced
a sensible effect upon the raging monster.

But such a mass of vitality was not easily destroyed, and for the time
the bear was more furious than ever. Crockett was kept so continually
dodging and leaping about, that he found it utterly impossible to get
in another blow; and as he circled around the room, he was in imminent
peril of being thrown down by some of the articles of furniture that
were continually in his way.

Moving thus, too, he caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes, peering down
from the stairs, while the fair owner held a rifle in her hands as if
awaiting the opportunity to use it.

"Shall I shoot?" she finally asked, in a suppressed voice, as he passed
near her.

"When you're sartin of plugging him," replied Crockett, never once
removing his eyes from the glowing orbs of the beast.

It was plain that if the hunter was going to escape with his life,
something must be done to weaken the bear, that was pressing him so
close that a collision could not be postponed much longer.

Any man who has ever met Colonel Davy Crockett knows that when fairly
aroused he had a fearful temper, and was reckless in what he did. His
blood was now fairly up, and he determined that he had retreated about
long enough.

"Confound you!" he muttered, as he steadied himself against the side of
the wall, preparatory to making his charge, "do you think I am afeard
of you?"

And then uttering a yell, such as he had heard escape the throats of
the Creek Indians at the massacre of Fort Mimms, he bounded toward his
foe.

The bear at this minute was reared on his hind legs, with paws up.
Crockett, as he reached these formidable weapons, ducked his head, so
as to pass beneath them, and as quick as thought buried his knife into
the side of the brute.

It was a terrible blow, and gave the creature such a spasm of pain that
his paws dropped almost involuntarily, and Crockett was compelled to
extricate himself in such haste, that he was unable to withdraw his
knife and take it with him.

This made his situation ten-fold more perilous. He had no weapon at all
with which to defend himself, and it was only left for him to await
the fierce onslaught of the terrible foe. Thoroughly aroused, he was
determined on recovering his knife, even though at the imminent risk of
his life.

"Come up-stairs!" shouted the terrified girl, who was vainly seeking a
chance to fire upon the bear, "he will kill you _now_, sure!"

"Let him kill me then!" was the stubborn reply of Crockett. "I am going
to git that knife ag'in, or he's going to git me."

Believing he had a chance, the hunter made a lunge for it. He struck
the handle, but he could not retain his hold, and, as his hand slipped
off, he received a staggering blow from the bear, that knocked him to
the floor.

A gasp of terror escaped the girl, but Crockett recovered himself and
made another attempt to regain his property.

Again his hand grasped the handle, and the brute made for him. Had
the hunter let the knife go, and sprung out of the way, he would have
escaped easily; but, mad with rage, he held fast to it, refusing to
loosen his grip, even when he felt the weight of the paws upon his
shoulders.

With a desperate effort, he jerked the Bowie loose, the blood gushing
after it in a copious stream. Then he attempted to pull away, but
it was too late, and the two went down together, locked in a death
embrace, Crockett believing that his last day had come!



CHAPTER III.

THE ALARM!


Certain that the hunter was doomed to death, the fair stranger, whose
own escape had been so narrow, could restrain herself no longer. With
rifle in hand, she leaped down the stairs, and made her way toward the
combatants upon the floor.

Colonel Crockett was in great extremity, for, in spite of the terrible
wounds the bear had received, he still possessed tremendous strength,
and now that he had got his foe in his arms, he was bent on giving him
the "death-hug," without any unnecessary delay.

But the hunter now had the Bowie in his powerful right hand; he used it
with all the strength and skill at his command. While his own face was
in such proximity to the terrible snout of the wood monster, he plunged
his knife again and again into his side, with a frequency and power
certainly sufficient to kill any animal but a Texan bear.

Still the fearful gripe of those immense fore legs, grew more rigid
each moment, until Crockett felt the breath of life leaving his body,
and was certain that the walls of his breast were being caved in.

"Fire! quick!" he managed to gasp, as he saw the girl with the gun
standing near them.

"I am afraid of hitting you!"

"Never mind if you do--don't wait."

Placing the muzzle directly against the head of the monster, the girl
pulled the trigger of her rifle.

The most vital part of the bear was pierced. The ball went crashing
through his brain, and with a sort of sigh, his great strength failed
him; he rolled heavily over upon his side, and breathed his last.

As quick as a flash, Colonel Crockett disengaged himself and sprung to
his feet.

"Oh, you are killed!" wailed the girl, as she sunk upon the edge of
one of the overturned chairs, "you can not live with such frightful
wounds!"

The hunter was indeed a distressing object to look upon. The blood from
the beast covered him almost from head to foot, and, scattered over his
face, it made him look as if he had been lacerated by the claws of the
brute.

"Me!" exclaimed the delighted Crockett, "I have not been harmed a bit:
I've only had a good squeezing, but, I'm gradually getting my breath
back again. Howsumever, I've been hugged before, and I've no doubt
such a good-looking gal as you have been hugged, too. If I hadn't a
blue-eyed little wife, down in Tennessee, I'd be tempted to play the
bear to you."

"Oh! how can you jest at such a terrible time?" said the girl, her face
blanched with terror.

"I know I ought to be ashamed of myself," said Crockett, as he looked
down and realized what a plight he was in, "but it was always a
weakness of mine to be joking when I hadn't oughter. If I ain't too
impertinent, may I ax your name?"

"Katrina Duncan."

"Where is your father and mother?"

"I have none."

"What! you don't live here all alone?"

"Oh, no! I live with my uncle and aunt."

"Where might they be just now?"

"My aunt has gone to the village."

"That is a dozen miles away."

"The creek runs near the house, and she used the canoe. She can easily
get back by nightfall."

"And your uncle--I haven't seen any thing of him."

"He is in the woods at work."

A sudden suspicion entered the head of Crockett.

"What is his name?"

"Bungslager."

"Ah! I see'd him in the woods--the jolliest Dutchman I ever sot eyes
on. When do you expect--"

"Doonder and blitzen!"

Turning their heads, the two saw the very man of whom they were
speaking, standing in the door. Short, fat, sturdy, with his round,
moon-like face lit up by a pair of round eyes that were the embodiment
of wonder and amazement.

"What dis mean, eh? Vot hash somepody peen doin', eh?"

"You have visitors, uncle."

"Yaw, as I sees, but when my visitor brings von pig pear mit him, I
vish he leaf him inside de out doors."

"He didn't bring him, uncle; the bear came himself, and this gentleman
rushed in to prevent him from killing me."

"Oh, yaw, and got killed himself. I ish glad to see you," said Hans,
advancing and offering his hand; "dis ish your gun vat I picks up."

"It looks like the critter," said Colonel Crockett, advancing and
taking his weapon. "I see'd I couldn't make no use of it, so I dropped
it and sailed in with my Bowie, and ef it hadn't been fur Katrina here,
it would have been the last of old Davy Crockett."

Hans Bungslager stopped and looked at the hunter with a curious
expression.

"What your name ish?"

"Colonel Davy Crockett."

"From Tennessee?"

"Exactly."

The Dutchman burst into a laugh that nearly shook him to pieces.

"You ish dat pig fool, eh, dat went to Congress and didn't know noffin.
I heerds 'pout you, and dinks you de piggest fool as never vas."

This was not very complimentary to Crockett, but the good nature of
Hans Bungslager was irresistible, and he laughed to see him laugh.

Katrina was somewhat embarrassed, and thought it her duty to apologize
for the rudeness of her uncle.

"He doesn't mean any thing," said she, turning toward the hunter; "it's
a way he has. He got some papers that told about you in Congress, and
he was so pleased that he staid home two or three days, and did nothing
but sit in his chair and laugh."

"He's a lucky dog to be able to laugh so much," replied Crockett, with
a serious air. "I have done a good deal of laughing in my time, but I
reckon I've felt like crying as many times. Howsumever, I s'pose you
want to get this carcass out the room."

Katrina replied that such was her wish, and Crockett and his host laid
hold and managed to drag the huge creature outside the door. He was
pulled some distance away, when the hunter, taking his Bowie in his
hand, ran his finger along the edge.

"Go way with yer buffalo-steaks and venison, when I can git b'ar meat,"
said he, as he began operating upon it. "I'm going to stay to supper
with you. I s'pose you've eat b'ar-steak?"

"Oh, yaw!" replied Hans; "I eats him once."

"How did you like him?"

"A Mexican--one greaser, gif him me to _p'ison_ me; ef I had eat but
lettle I would died; but I eat so much dat I spit him up ag'in."

"Get out! wait till I cook ye a hunk of it; you'll like it better than
any sourkrout you ever saw."

Bungslager shook himself with laughter at the thought of his finding
any thing in the way of food that could please his palate better than
that savory article; but he stood by and watched Crockett, as he
handled his knife with a skill that was really admirable.

The bear was in prime condition, and, after laying his shaggy hide
back, the hunter cut out several slices that looked quite tempting, and
which he asserted would tickle the tongue of any one, when properly
cooked and placed upon the table.

The hide was carefully taken from the entire body, and then the carcass
was rolled into the creek to float away, as being of no further use,
while Crockett carefully washed the stains from his own person. Then
bearing the hide over his arm, and the clean-looking meat, the two
returned to the cabin.

During their absence, Katrina had improved the time to the utmost. The
furniture, except where irreparably injured, had been placed to rights,
the floor scrubbed up, and the fire kindled, and every preparation made
for preparing a meal.

Looking at the bright, cheerful room, one could scarcely believe that a
few minutes before it had been the scene of such a frightful contest as
I have described.

When Crockett explained his wishes, the really charming, rosy-cheeked
girl yielded her place to him at the fire, and he commenced the
preparation of his bear-steaks. The savory odor soon filled the room,
and placing some fresh butter and snowy bread upon the table, the three
sat down to their meal.

But they were doomed to an interruption. The first mouthful was not yet
tasted, when through the open door the figure of a young man was seen
approaching, walking with a rapid stride across the clearing.

As he came nearer, it was easy to see from his blanched face and
excited manner, that he was the bearer of some important and alarming
tidings.



CHAPTER IV.

THE FLIGHT.


The individual who was seen hastening across the clearing, showed in
his actions that he was an acquaintance of Bungslager and his niece.

"Well, Sebastian, what is it?" asked the latter, while the quick flush
that overspread her face told Colonel Crockett at once what relation
existed between them. Even in that moment of excitement the young man
had time to cast one admiring glance upon the maiden.

"I've bad news! the worst news!"

All turned away from the table and looked expectantly toward him.

"What is it?"

"Three runners reached Brownston, a couple of hours ago, with the news
that a big war-party of Comanches are approaching!"

"Ish dat all?" exclaimed Hans, with a sigh. "I dinks my cow has tumbled
over a log, and hurts herself."

"But they will be there by to-night."

"Does my frow know it?"

"Yes; she besought me to hurry to you, and urge you to come at once,
without a moment's delay. As soon as I learned it, I prepared to come,
although several urged me against it, as they thought I would be
intercepted before I could get back; but I have made all haste."

"From what p'int are they coming?" asked Crockett, who had the sense to
perceive that this was a serious peril that threatened the Dutchman and
his niece.

"From the north-east," replied Sebastian, turning toward Crockett, who
had risen to his feet.

"How do you know that they intend attacking the village?"

The young man looked at the hunter a moment without replying.

"I suppose you are a stranger in these parts, for if you wasn't, you
would know that Brownston has been attacked several times before,
although never by such a large force as now threatens it. A good many
of our men are off in the Texan war, and a good many more are going;
but, we've had so many of these raids by the Comanches, that we've got
used to them. We're better prepared than we used to be."

"Do you think the village is in danger itself?"

"No," was the prompt reply. "As we have been warned, I do not see as
there is any danger at all."

"Then if we can get _there_, we shall be safe?"

"Undoubtedly."

"It is about a dozen miles away," added Crockett, in a voice which
showed he was considerably relieved; "it ain't likely that the
red-skins will be there before night."

"No; we do not fear for Brownston itself, now that we have been
notified, but it is the outlying houses, that are in such danger, and
quite a number of the folks have gone out to warn them."

"Then let's set down and make a meal on b'ar-steaks, and all go to the
village together," setting the example, by taking his place at the
table again.

The coolness with which this was uttered had a most reassuring effect
upon the others. Sebastian, (as the young Texan was called,) was a
volunteer in the war of independence of the Lone Star State, and was
home in his native village of Brownston for a short time to see his
friends, when this alarm reached his ears.

Knowing full well the ferocious character of the Comanches, and that
in their wars, they made no discrimination between Mexican, Texan or
American, the tidings filled him with the gravest alarm, concerning the
beautiful Katrina and her uncle.

He was glad to find a guest there whose appearance showed him to be a
man of knowledge, skill and daring, and who could not fail to prove a
most valuable auxiliary in escaping the peril which had descended so
suddenly upon them. He advanced and offered his hand.

"I am Sebastian Carsfield, a Texan, fighting against Santa Anna. I am
glad to make your acquaintance."

"And I am on my way to the Alamo," replied Crockett, warmly shaking his
hand.

"Then we are brothers: I join you at the meal."

"I dinks you ain't so much hungry as I vas," said Hans, who was quite
impatient at the delay, and who attacked the viands with renewed
appetite. Katrina was so flustered by the exciting news and the
presence of her lover, that she became quite thoughtful and ate very
little.

Crockett seemed to have forgotten entirely that such a thing as a
hostile force was threatening them, and joked and jested in his usual
manner. He related many of his adventures in Tennessee, in hunting
bears, and some incidents of his eventful career in Congress, and his
memorable tour through the northern States.

In this way the afternoon wore rapidly away, the dinner was lengthened,
and by the time that the party rose from the table, the latter part of
the day was half gone.

As the "frow" of Bungslager had gone to the village of Brownston in
the canoe, there was no means of making the journey by water, so it
was arranged that the dozen intervening miles should be made overland.
Hans owned a sturdy horse, not very fleet, but tough and enduring, upon
which he proposed to load every thing necessary, while he and Katrina
walked.

Sebastian had come on foot, not pausing to procure a horse, and
Crockett offered to yield his mustang to her, as the animal was at no
great distance, and he intended to procure him before setting out for
the village.

But she declined. None of the party were more able to walk than she,
and in the labyrinths of the woods, she had more confidence in her own
limbs than in those of any quadruped or biped.

It was agreed that Crockett should go after his mustang and then follow
a bridle-path that he could easily find, which struck the creek about
a mile below the cabin of Bungslager, and there await the coming of
his friends. At the same time Sebastian was to descend the river some
distance below, to see whether any thing more could be discovered
regarding the Comanches, and then was to return to the point mentioned,
where it was believed that all would rendezvous at the end of a couple
of hours.

With this understanding the parties separated--Crockett taking the
trail made by the bear, while he was pursuing it, as the speediest way
of reaching the point where he had left his mustang tied. Sebastian
located the bridle-path with such exactness that he was certain of
finding it without any delay.

The Texan, with his heavy rifle slung over his shoulder, strode off
in an eastern direction, following the course of the creek. As he
looked up to the sky, and saw how near the sun was setting, a shade
of anxiety crossed his face. He felt that they had lingered too long
in the cabin, after the danger became known. It was now impossible to
get fairly started for Brownston, before night was closing in, and the
probabilities were that the place would not be reached before daylight.

These hours of darkness would be hours of the greatest peril to his
friends. He had no doubt that the vigilant, ferocious Comanches would
be between them and the village before the night was half gone. Such
a large party could hardly hope to make their way through the lines
without discovery--especially with the blundering Hans Bungslager, who
seemed incapable of comprehending the grave character of the danger
that menaced them.

"I am afraid we shall see the worst kind of trouble, before many hours
come and go!" muttered the Texan, as he strode thoughtfully through the
forest.



CHAPTER V.

A SLIP OF THE MEMORY.


Colonel Crockett was also equally thoughtful. He felt that a mistake
had been made through his agency, and that the gravest consequences
might be the result.

"Them b'ars have always got me into trouble," he muttered, impatiently.
"I s'pose if I git into a fight with a greaser and a b'ar comes along,
I'll leave him and put for the b'ar."

He had easily found the trail of the brute, and kept it without
trouble. The way back seemed much longer than when he was pursuing the
beast with so much zeal; but he traveled very fast, and reached the
open prairie before the sun had set.

In one hand he carried his long, reliable rifle, and over the other was
hung the huge shaggy hide of the black bear. Its size and character
made it too valuable for him to leave until it could become dried, and
so he took it to make sure of having so valuable an article.

Reaching the edge of the prairie, he found that his mustang had managed
to disengage his bridle and was cropping the grass near at hand.
Crockett was on the point of emerging from the woods, when his quick
eye detected something out upon the plain.

Scarcely a half-mile distant, and almost precisely upon the spot where
he had left his companions to pursue their buffaloes, he saw fully a
hundred mounted Comanche Indians.

"By hokey-pokey!" muttered the hunter, as he stood and watched the
sight, "that means business, sure enough!"

The band of red-skins seemed to be holding a sort of council. They were
gathered in a large circle, the heads of their horses pointed inward,
while a dozen or two on foot stood in the center, apparently debating
together upon some proposed scheme, while their devoted followers were
waiting until their leaders were ready to give their orders.

Colonel Crockett stood almost fascinated at the sight. The Comanches
were fine-looking men, gayly dressed in bright colors, all mounted on
magnificent horses, and, as is well known, they are among the finest
horsemen in the world. Sitting as motionless as carved figures, they
would have formed a capital scene for a painter.

The question that naturally occurred to the hunter was whether these
made up the entire force of Comanches that were marching against
Brownston. If they did, the town being forewarned, certainly had little
to fear from them; but the settlers who dwelt in the surrounding
country were as powerless to resist this band, as though all the
red-skins west of the Rio Grande should descend upon them.

Crockett felt that time was important, and that he endangered the
safety of others by waiting; but, he was so anxious to watch their
movements that he determined to wait awhile at least, and try to
discover their intentions.

His experience among the Creek Indians had given him a good knowledge
of Indian character and ways, and he was not long in understanding that
was a sort of council--those in the center of the large circle, having
all to say in the matter.

Crockett first carefully approached his own mustang, and securing him,
sprung upon his back, and then held himself in readiness to flee in
case the red-skins should turn their faces toward him.

Some fifteen minutes passed in this painful suspense, when a
simultaneous shout arose from the group, and they were seen turning
their horses about, and brandishing their weapons about their heads.

The conclusion had been reached!

The Comanches were now ready to march!

And just at this moment, Colonel Crockett became aware that the faces
of the Indians were turned toward him, and their horses were galloping
at full speed directly at the point in the wood where he stood.

"Be sure you're right, then go ahead," growled Crockett, as he wheeled
his mustang about, "and I think it's right for me to kick gravel."

The proximity of the trees was such that, as I have shown before, the
hunter dismounted and continued the pursuit on foot; but now, under the
influence of fear, his mustang seemed to shoot in and out among the
trees like a swallow in its flight.

"I wonder if they see'd me," muttered Crockett, as he ducked his head
to avoid being swept off his horse or having his head swept off his
shoulders. "I don't think they did, or they wouldn't have sent so
many after me. Howsumever, maybe they've heard that I am a member of
Congress."

Unconsciously Crockett had turned the head of his horse toward the
path, for which he ought to have searched, and his horse suddenly
plunged into it, and wheeled off to the right, and followed it at the
same headlong speed.

This made traveling a great deal easier, and the mustang plunged along
at a really swift gait, his rider every now and then casting his head
around, in the expectation of catching a glimpse of those fearless dogs
yelping upon his track.

"If they can ride through this wood any faster than me," exclaimed
Crockett, as a limb knocked his coon-skin cap from his head, "then I'd
like to stop and see them."

He kept up this break-neck pace for some time longer, and hearing
nothing of his enemies, he paused and listened. The sound of a leaf
that rustled through some branches overhead and fluttered down upon his
shoulder was all that reached his ear, besides the hurried breathing of
his animal.

"Sartinly if they war coming I'd hear them," he concluded, after
listening for a few minutes, and every thing was still as the grave.

Dismounting from his mustang, he knelt down and placed his ear upon the
ground. Had there been horsemen anywhere in the neighborhood, the tramp
of their feet would have been heard, but to his surprise Crockett heard
nothing at all.

"There's one thing sartin," said he, "them Comanches ain't on my trail,
so I'll give the hoss a little rest."

With which he drew his animal down to a moderate walk.

By this time it was growing dark, and despite the speed with which
Crockett had ridden, he was yet a great deal behindhand, on account of
waiting to watch the movements of the red-skins. He ought to have been
at the rendezvous long before this.

All through the tumultuous excitement Crockett had clung to his
bear-skin with almost the tenacity that he grasped his rifle. He had
done it almost unconsciously, even after his cap was swept from his
head.

He was on the point of starting ahead again when his quick ear detected
something suspicious. The sound was very slight, but such as it was, it
convinced him that there was some one coming along the path.

Not knowing what it meant, the hunter drew his horse aside out of the
path, and then waited and watched. The obscurity was so great that he
could not see very distinctly, but in the gloom he discovered two men,
who passed by on a rapid run. He could see that they were Indians, and
that they were moving very fast.

What struck Crockett as singular was that these red-skins were pursuing
the opposite direction from him. Either they must have passed by the
rendezvous toward which he was hurrying, or they had gone dangerously
near it.

"What does it mean?" the Tennessean asked himself, beginning to feel
a little puzzled at the action of the red-skins; "these are queer
critters--these Comanches--they don't do business like the Creeks and
Choctaws. Now how did them two rapscallions get round on t'other side
of me? They couldn't have passed me in the path, for I was riding too
blamed fast."

He returned to the path again, and, as his horse walked along, he
thought seriously upon the situation of himself and friends.

Suddenly he started.

Could it be that there was another band of Comanches on the other side
of Hans Bungslager's cabin? Or were these scouts who were scouring
through the country in search of victims, and having discovered the
flight of the fugitives, had they made all haste to the main body that
the whites might be cut off before there was a chance of escape?

The more he reflected upon what he had seen, the more serious alarm did
he feel. It was not for himself that he feared, but it looked to him as
though the gentle Katrina Duncan was in greater danger than she or her
friends imagined.

He continued riding forward, his horse on a moderate walk, until in the
moonlight he caught the glimmer of water ahead, and he knew that he was
drawing near the rendezvous.

Feeling it his duty to be suspicious on all occasions, he dismounted
again, and fastening his horse beside the path, crept stealthily
forward and looked about him. The creek was broad and deep, but he saw
no person or boat visible.

Where was Sebastian? was the question he asked himself, as he looked
furtively about. "Can it be that those two Comanches have slain him,
and his dead body is somewhere at hand?"

He stood irresolute a moment, debating whether to begin the search or
not, when a low, cautiously-uttered whistle reached his ear. Suspecting
that it was a signal from some Indian to another, he stepped further
back in the shadow, and cocked his rifle, determined to shoot the first
red-skin that showed himself.

The whistle was repeated, and finally Crockett ventured to answer it.
He had scarcely done so when a figure appeared in the path before him
whom he at once recognized as Sebastian, the Texan.

The two met and clasped hands in the moonlight like old friends.

"Where are they?" was the first whispered question of Crockett.

"I do not know; I have seen and heard nothing of them since I left
there this afternoon."

"How long have you been here?"

"Over an hour. What kept you?"

The hunter gave a concise account of what I have already made known to
my readers, and then asked him his experience.

"I reached here as quick as I could, after leaving you," replied the
young Texan, "but the boat I expected to find here was gone, so I went
down the creek about a mile, where I found it caught in some bushes."

"How did it get there?"

"It must have got loose and drifted down there; I remember the prow
only rested against the bank, and it might have done it very easily."

"Have you seen any of the Comanches?"

"Not one," replied Sebastian.

"That's blamed queer," muttered Crockett; "there's a strange look about
things that don't suit. What can keep Bungslager?"

"He may be in trouble--"

"Hello! there he comes!" interrupted Crockett, as he saw the pursy
form of the Dutchman emerge from the wood, leading his horse that was
heavily loaded with his domestic utensils and food.

The two men stood until he advanced to where they were, and then with a
blanched face Sebastian asked the question:

"_Where is Katrina?_"

Hans Bungslager turned about and looked at the back of his horse a
moment, as if in a maze of perplexity, and then exclaimed:

"+Doonder and blitzen! I Forgot her!+"



CHAPTER VI.

ALL WRONG.


"Forgot her!" exclaimed the astounded Sebastian; "how did you do that?"

"I dinks at first she drops off de hoss--but afore I starts she goes
back to look fur de cow, and I forgits about her till I gots here, and
den I dinks, 'cause you ax me."

"This is a serious business," said the young Texan, turning toward
Crockett. "I think Bungslager is a little the biggest fool I ever saw.
It won't do to go on to the village and leave the girl alone in the
woods."

"I rather guess not--'specially when she's such a purty piece of
calikar as that. I'd be very glad to go back arter her, but, as she'd
be a blamed sight gladder to see you, and you'd be gladder yet to see
her, why I ain't the man to interfere."

The Texan coughed, and pretended not to comprehend the meaning of
Crockett hastily replying:

"Suppose, then, you and Hans go on toward the village while I go back
after her."

"I'm agreeable."

"The path follows the creek all the way, and Hans has traveled it often
enough to know it, so you won't be delayed on that account. Good-by and
good-luck to you!"

"'Bass," called out Hans, as he saw the young man start off.

"Well, what is it?" was the quick, business-like response.

"You goes arter Katrina, eh?"

"Yes; I do not propose to desert her."

"Ef she hain't found te cow, you can help her looks for him, and den
you drives her into de village, and we has protein and milk for supper."

"We'll see to that," replied Carsfield, who had no wish to dispute with
the Dutchman, "but, of course, I will look after Katrina first."

"Yaw; te cow has got a bell on her neck, so dat it will be easy fur to
find her and den--"

He paused as the young man had vanished in the wood, and turning back
to Crockett asked:

"Do we waits here till dey don't come, or do we don't go on till arter
dey don't come?"

"I think so," replied Crockett, not exactly certain whether his answer
was any more luminous than the question itself.

"Yaw; dat ish all right--I allers dink so."

"Sebastian advises us to keep on toward the village; we won't be able
to travel very fast, as your horse has got about ten wagon-loads on
his back, and if you're going to ride on top, he'll have to set down
and rest about every hundred yards. So they will overhaul us, afore we
can reach the village. Are you going to ride your hoss? If not you're
welcome to straddle mine."

"No; I rides my hoss--you see he expects me, and I dush not disapp'ints
him."

"All very well," replied Crockett, "but how the hokey-pokey are you
going to get on top?"

"I shows you."

Hans Bungslager, as I have said, had his horse so loaded down that he
was almost invisible. The pillow-bed "lapped" on each side so much
that his head and a little of his neck could be seen. On this was
placed another bulging tick, while numerous articles were adjusted and
balanced with a skill which showed that the delicate hand of Katrina
had borne a share in the task. These necessarily projected from the
side of the horse, but she had remembered that the path they expected
to follow was quite narrow, and the "breadth" was principally upward.

Having walked to this point, Hans concluded that he was entitled to
ride, and indeed in loading his horse, care had been taken to arrange
the articles so as to make him a nice comfortable seat.

Hans displayed his innate sagacity by leading the horse beside a
short stunted tree with a projecting stumpy limb, upon which, with
considerable "boosting" by Crockett, he managed to climb, and then,
thanks to the gentleness of his horse, he safely "located himself upon
his back."

"Now I ish ready," he called out, hitching about a little, so as to
make sure he was firmly seated; "drive ahead."

Crockett pressed forward, and in the gloom saw a well-defined path
before him, running parallel with the creek. This was the one referred
to by Sebastian, and he took it at once.

Hans Bungslager succeeded in riding his horse better than would have
been expected. By keeping in the center of the path, the trees and
shrubbery at the sides did not interfere with his movements. The only
difficulty was that by being elevated so much, he got his face pretty
well scratched and occasionally was compelled to duck and dodge rather
vigorously.

Crockett's native humor now and then manifested itself, when he turned
about and saw the ludicrous figure in the rear; but, at the same time,
he could not help feeling that they were threatened by a danger so
serious that it ought to demand their entire thought.

The sky was clear, and the bright moonlight here and there penetrated
through the tree-tops, lighting up the path and occasionally giving
birth to frightful grotesque figures, that to a man's excited
imagination would be apt to assume the form of reality.

But Colonel Crockett had been through too many trying scenes to be
frightened by shadows. He dreaded not them--but he did dread the
Comanches, that certainly could be at no great distance, and through
whose lines it would be very difficult to pass in order to reach the
village.

Had his own convictions been acted upon, the whites would not have
attempted to make the settlement at all. In the dense woods which
surrounded the cabin, there were any number of places where they could
have concealed themselves, and waited until the danger had passed; but
others had the right to decide upon their course of action, and his
generous nature would not permit him to forsake them so long as they
were in peril.

The two horses walked silently through the wood, the only sound being
the faint clamp of their feet, and the rustling of the shrubbery
against the baggage of Hans Bungslager. Occasionally he spoke to
Crockett, but not often, as the Dutchman, reckless as he was, could not
fail to see that it was no time for conversation.

So they progressed for a mile or so, when Crockett suddenly heard a
furious gasping.

"Whoa! doonder and blitzen! whoa."

Checking his own horse and turning his head, he could see that Hans
was in trouble. His obedient animal had instantly stopped upon being
appealed to, but he was still in difficulty.

"What is it?" inquired the colonel.

"Doonder! dish limb has cotch my nose under de shin, and I can't gets
my neck loose. Back!" he commanded to his horse, that, moving back a
step or two, enabled him to free himself from the snare into which he
had run his head.

"Can I help you any?" asked the hunter, who was not certain whether he
was still in trouble or not.

"Yaw; you can help me as never vas."

"How?" asked Crockett, springing from his mustang, and hurrying back
beside him.

"You goes pack to de capin, and up-stairs in my room, under te bed,
yer finds some bear-grease; if you rubs dat on my chin here I feels
goot."

"I'll see you hanged first," growled the hunter, as he hurried back to
his horse. "If you ain't the greatest Dutchman in Texas, or the United
States, then I'll go back to Tennessee and run for Congress ag'in."

Had there been no one beside himself and the Hollander concerned,
Crockett would not have attempted to keep him company; but the
beautiful Katrina, and the gallant young Texan had already won a warm
place in the heart of the grizzled adventurer, and he was willing
to incur any personal risk for them. As it was, he saw that, under
Providence, all depended upon his watchfulness, and he therefore
determined to assume the part of master, so long as he was compelled to
keep company with Hans.

Nothing of Indians yet.

Crockett had scarcely thought this, when he heard the reports of three
guns in rapid succession, but a short distance to the right of them in
the wood, and not a little startled, he reined up and listened, Hans
from necessity being compelled to do the same.

They waited five or ten minutes, when, hearing nothing more, the
journey was resumed, Colonel Crockett feeling a conviction that some
sort of trouble was at hand.

A hundred yards or so further on the horse of the hunter stopped, and
leaning forward, the rider saw that the path divided, a branch turning
off quite sharply to the right, while the other kept almost directly
ahead.

Being an utter stranger, of course he appealed to Hans.

"Which do we take, the right or left?"

"De right," was the instant reply.

"You're sartin of that?"

"Yaw."

"Then we will go ahead."

And the famous Tennessean acted upon the motto, which has been quoted
so many times, both during and after his life, his animal walking
forward in quite a lively, business-like fashion.

Crockett began to think that it was time the young Texan and his
lady-love put in an appearance. He felt a longing for the society of
such a daring, chivalrous young man, as he knew Carsfield to be, and
he thought that at the tardy rate pursued by him and Hans, the two
fleet-limbed lovers ought to be somewhere in the vicinity.

But fully another mile was now passed and nothing was heard of them.
Once again the report of a gun had been heard, but this time it was in
another direction, and so far away, as to be quite a relief. Neither of
the alarms had come from the rear, so there was no reason to fear that
Carsfield and Katrina were in any difficulty.

"I say, hilloa!" suddenly called out Hans, in the husky, eager tones of
one who is alarmed and excited. "I say, hilloa!"

"Wal, what's the matter, man?" inquired the hunter, reining up his
mustang until the horse of the Dutchman could approach no closer.

"I hash sumfin' to dells you."

"Let me hear it then."

"It ish a good joke."

And thereupon Hans began shaking with laughter, until it really seemed
as if he would fall from the back of his animal. He made several
attempts to speak, but before he could make himself intelligible
he broke off into immoderate laughter again. Finally Crockett lost
patience.

"You can stay there and laugh, while I go on."

"Hold on! hold on, Mister Crockett--ain't it fooney--but I made--haw!
haw! haw!--one great mistake--haw! haw!--_dish is de wrong path, and
we're furder away from de settlement dan when we shtarted! haw! haw!
haw! haw! haw! haw!_"



CHAPTER VII.

JOURNEYING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.


Hans Bungslager certainly had a remarkable appreciation of a joke, and
although something like anger rose in Crockett's breast at the thought
of the stupid mistake that had been made, he could only grin and wait
in silence until his outburst of merriment was ended, when he inquired:

"Are you sartin that we ain't right after all?"

"Dish ish de path dat goes round, and come back of my house shust in
front of it, and if we keeps on, te cabin will run ag'inst us."

"Then we may as well turn back."

Crockett guided his horse carefully around the other so as still to
hold the lead, and after considerable trouble, Hans succeeded in
imitating him, and the return was begun.

It is never a very pleasant thing to find you have taken the wrong
road, and Colonel Crockett felt somewhat ruffled that his companion
should have misled him; but, after all, he did not see as any thing was
lost thereby.

He felt very grave doubts in his own mind of the wisdom of this
attempt to reach the settlement, when it was as good as certain that
the Comanches were ahead of him. At any rate, there was no wisdom in
seeking to do so, supported only by Hans Bungslager.

Sebastian was as keen and skillful as he was brave. He was intimately
acquainted with every crook and turn of the forest-paths, he had fought
Comanches and Mexicans, and some reliance could be placed upon him in
an emergency like this.

Pretty Katrina was far more valuable in the hour of danger than was
her thick-headed uncle; and by turning back, there was the probability
of joining them the sooner, provided they had not already come up and
passed the point where the two paths joined.

This seemed so probable as to cause Crockett considerable misgiving,
and he turned about to make a proposition to the Dutchman.

"You're so heavily-loaded, Hans, that it won't be safe for your hoss
to undertake to git up a trot, if he was able, which I don't believe
he is. So I'll gallop on ahead to meet the folks, while you take your
time. Are you agreeable?"

"Yaw."

Without waiting for any thing further, Crockett struck his mustang into
a gallop, his hoofs sounding upon the earth with a dangerous loudness,
when there was such necessity for silence in all their movements.

A few minutes only were necessary to bring him back to the main path,
where he looked keenly about in the gloom for some sign of his young
friends; but none was to be seen, and he heard only the sigh of the
winds and the soft flow of the creek.

Had they already passed?

The question was so important that Crockett thought himself justified
in taking rather imprudent means to answer; so he galloped some
distance down the path, and then reining up, shouted:

"+Hilloa!+"

He repeated the call several times, and his voice echoed among the
trees with a startling force, but no welcome response came back in the
shape of a signal from Sebastian. Then he dismounted from his horse,
and advancing to where the moonlight shone upon the ground, carefully
scrutinized it as an Indian does when looking for the signs of the
passing of a foe.

But he was unable to detect any thing at all, and so he retraced his
steps to the "junction," convinced that the lovers were still between
him and the cabin.

"Whoa! whoa! Doonderation! Why you don't shtop?"

As these excited words reached the ears of the hunter he became
sensible of a furious tearing forward of some animal, and while he was
looking up the path to see what it meant, the horse of Hans Bungslager
came forward on a trot, that threatened to displace every thing upon
her back, and jolting the rider like so much jelly.

"Whoa! shtop him!" he called out, seeing Crockett.

"What's the matter?" asked the latter, with a laugh, as he turned his
horse so as to head him off.

"He got scared at a pig bear back in te woods, and I can't shtop him."

The animal was certainly frightened at something, and instead of
stopping before the obstruction placed in his path, he shied sharply to
the right. Hans was unprepared for this movement, and he rolled over to
the other side, bringing himself to the ground, with the feather-bed
upon top of him. Leaving him to disengage himself as best he could,
Crockett made a dash for the horse just in time to catch his bridle.

"Doonder blitzen!" muttered Hans, as he staggered to his feet, "what
made you shtop de hoss so _chook up_?"

"That's the only way I see'd to do it. Are you hurt any?"

"I dinks I am," replied the Dutchman, as he began feeling of different
parts of his person, "I prokes my pipe, and I bu'sted two buttons off
my coat behind, and I feels pad all over of myself."

"If you will take my advice you'll strip off all there is on this hoss."

"Vot I does shmit it?"

"Leave it here till you kin come back and get it; if you keep it on the
horse, and try to get it into the settlement, you'll lose it and your
scalp, too."

"Can't lose my skelp, 'cause I hain't got none to lose," replied
Hans, lifting his hat and showing his pate, white and shining in the
moonlight.

Crockett urged his proposition, and his comrade seemed quite struck
with it. He debated and hesitated awhile, but finally consented, and,
as the horse had become soothed and quieted by this time, he stood
still, while the different articles were taken from his back.

They were carefully deposited under a large tree, standing back some
distance from the path, and then Hans remounted his animal and took the
reins in his hand.

By this time, Crockett began to feel some apprehension about the
lovers, who ought to have been on the spot before this.

He made numerous inquiries of Hans, but learned very little. The
stolid Dutchman seemed certain that it was all well with both of them,
and that there was no cause for anxiety about either.

"Sebastian--he so shmart de Injins can't cotch him."

"But Katrina?"

"She so purty dat nobody never didn't hurt her, and so nobody won't
never say nottin' to her--so she's all right."

"She's never had a pack of red-skins chasing her," replied Crockett,
who was any thing but satisfied with the situation of things.

"Dat is why dey won't do it, den, no more."

"But, why are they hanging back so?"

"Dey ain't hangin' pack--dey hang forward. I dinks Katrina ish
lookin' fur de cow, Sebastian ish lookin' fur Katrina, and te cow ish
lookin' fur me, and we ish lookin' fur all dem, and so we all keeps
lookin'--yaw! yaw!"

"It seems to me we may as well wait here till they come--there ain't
any other way they can get to the settlement is there?"

"Yaw."

"How?"

"Dey kin go down into Mexico, and den come round frough de Mulf of
Gexico, and come dat way--but den it ish furder dan dis way isn't?"

"Is there any other straight path?"

"Dey kin go on t'oder sight de creek."

"I didn't know there was another path. Just as like as not they
have taken that and are several miles ahead."

"I don't dinks so."

"Why not?"

"Cause we hain't heard de cow-bell--dat go jingle-jingle."

"Let's go ahead, for I don't see any use in waiting here."

The hunter felt some impatience at the belief that he had dallied away
so much time, when it was more than probable that the parties for whom
he was waiting had long since passed by on the other side.

Accordingly he started his horse along the path again, Hans Bungslager
following close in the rear.

"So his animile was skeared by a b'ar," mused the Tennesseean, as he
rode along and recalled the fright of the horse ridden by his friend.
"I wonder if he was as big a critter as I shot yesterday? If he was I'd
like to get a shot at him."

He held up his rifle in front of him, as he passed through a small
patch of moonlight, to make sure that the priming was in good condition.

"She's allers ready," he mused, as he still held it. "I don't like
Injins, and I do like b'ars, and I'd a blamed sight rather shoot one of
the four-footed than one of the two-legged critters, and if one should
come 'long just now--"

"Hilloa!" called Hans again, in an unusually cautious voice.

"Well, what now?" asked Crockett, turning his head; "don't speak too
loud."

"My hoss is skeart ag'in."

"What by?"

"I dinks dat bear ish follerin' me," replied Hans, looking affrightedly
over his shoulder.

"Where is he?" was the excited demand of Crockett, who thought no more
of lovers or Indians. "Do you see him?"

"No, but I hears him valk, and the hoss he don't like it; I dinks he
pig bear or else he be Injin dat is trying to shteal me."

"I guess it's more likely to be a red-skin than any thing else,"
replied the Tennesseean, instantly becoming very circumspect in his
movements, "and whichever it is, I've got to use my gun on 'em!"



CHAPTER VIII.

HEMMED IN.


When young Sebastian Carsfield started in quest of Katrina Duncan, it
is not to be supposed that he would permit any thing to delay him on
the way.

The fact that she was alone, at such a dangerous time as this, was
enough to give wings to his feet, and in a short time he crossed the
clearing and stood in front of the cabin from which they had departed a
few hours before.

The thought that possibly there might be some of the Indians here
caused him suddenly to check his steps and spring back to the cover of
the wood, where he stood for several minutes carefully scrutinizing the
building and listening.

All was still, and satisfied that none of the Comanches had yet reached
the spot, he advanced boldly, and, drawing the latch-string, entered.
All was dark and quiet within, and he called the name of his beloved
several times without receiving any response.

"She has not returned from looking after the cow," he concluded, as he
came out of the building again, and looked anxiously around, uncertain
what way to turn.

The thought that possibly danger threatened the house caused him to
leave the cabin, and, passing across the clearing, take shelter in
the shadow of the wood, where he could watch without being watched in
return.

He recollected that a cow of Hans Bungslager generally wore a bell, the
better to indicate her whereabouts in the woods, and he listened in the
hope of detecting that. Once or twice he fancied he heard the _tinkle,
tinkle_, but it was so faint that he could not locate it, nor make
certain that he was not mistaken.

In the mean time he was growing more anxious. Time was of the utmost
importance to him; there was little doubt in his mind but that all
these exposed houses of the settlers would be visited by the Comanches,
who moved with wonderful celerity, and struck blows as quick and
powerful as they were merciless.

"Surely she will return to the building," he concluded, referring to
Katrina, "and finding her uncle gone, will hurry on after him. Then
what could have caused her delay?"

He was in this distressing anxiety when he started as he saw a couple
of figures advance from the wood, at no great distance from where he
was standing, and start directly across the clearing toward the house.

A second glance only was needed for him to identify them as
Indians--Comanches who had left their mustangs somewhere near at hand,
and were paying this visit to the cabin.

The Texan watched them as eagerly as a cat watches a mouse, and at the
same time he was filled with the gravest apprehension about Katrina,
for this proved that the location of Bungslager's cabin was known to
the Comanches, and it looked very probable that she had already fallen
into their hands.

The two Indians walked at a leisurely gait, and upon reaching the
cabin, knocked at the door, and in the stillness he could distinctly
hear the words, in broken English:

"White man, let brother in."

Then they knocked again.

"Poor Injin come long way--he tired--white brudder, let him come
in--won't stay long."

No response being made, one of the savages lifted the latch and
entered, and as a matter of course, was not long in discovering
that the cabin was deserted. The moonlight, too, told the story of
precipitate flight, as the red-skins could see that their coming had
been expected and prepared for.

Learning that much, there was nothing left for the Comanches to do,
except to come out again. Carsfield could see them very distinctly,
standing side by side, and the guttural mumble of their voices was
plainly audible, as they discussed some point in their own tongue.

The Texan supposed it was as to whether they should burn the building
or not. He made up his mind that if they attempted to do it, he would
shoot the one who made the first move, relying upon his knife and
pistol to deal with the other.

As it was, by changing his own position somewhat, he could get both
of them in range, and he nervously grasped his rifle, asking himself
whether he should make the shot or not. Two considerations only
restrained him.

It was probable that a large body of Comanches were within call, and
that the shot would be the signal for them to swarm to the spot. If
Katrina were still wandering somewhere in the woods, her danger would
be greatly increased, and so he held the shot which, had he fired,
would have changed the whole course of succeeding events.

For something like fifteen minutes the red-skins occupied their
position, and then they walked away with the indifference that had
characterized their coming.

Carsfield had fought these daring marauders before, and it was a great
trial for him to permit them to walk away unmolested when he had it in
his power to punish them so well for their temerity.

"However, they have spared the cabin, and if they will go and stay
away, I shall not trouble them," he muttered, as he lowered his piece,
and wondered what the next development was to be.

All at once he heard the tinkle of the cow-bell!

It was unmistakable, and he started up, his heart fluttering with fear
and hope, for he concluded right away that Katrina was driving the cow
home, and the departing Indians had not got far enough away to miss
hearing it.

Fortunately it was from the opposite side of the clearing, from where
they disappeared, and it was approaching.

"She will soon be here," he added to himself, as he advanced to
meet her; "the unsuspicious creature has no idea of the danger that
threatens."

It never occurred to the Texan, in his excited condition, that he
was the one who ought to be suspicious, inasmuch as the sound of the
cow-bell had broken upon his ear too suddenly to have been caused by
the gradual approach of a cow.

He was too desirous of meeting Katrina Duncan to observe those
"points," which at another time, would have been certain to have roused
his alarm.

The bell showed that the wearer was close to the edge of the wood,
and from some whim which he could not explain himself, the young man
stepped back into the shadow and waited for the cow to appear.

Fortunate indeed was it for him that he did so, for he had scarcely
taken refuge in the shelter of the wood, when a tall, sinewy Comanche
stepped into view, and in his hand he held the identical cow-bell that
had struck so pleasantly upon the ear of the lover!

The latter could scarcely repress an exclamation of amazement as
he witnessed this, for he had not the remotest thought of any such
strategy as it signified. The Indian had been the first to discover the
cow, and after killing her, the bell had been taken from her neck with
the purpose of using it as a decoy in drawing the owners on to their
destruction.

Could it be possible that Katrina had taken the alarm in time?

This was the question, Sebastian asked himself, as he narrowly watched
the dusky dog who was attempting this piece of shameless deception.
Dark as was the prospect, he began to feel some hope that such might be
the case.

Like a true lover, he believed the mental abilities of his favorite
unequaled by any one else, and taking lesson from the stupidity of her
uncle, she might have detected the nearness of the Indians before they
discovered her.

While these thoughts were passing through his mind, he was watching the
movements of the decoy. With the jingling bell held in one hand, and
his rifle in the other, he walked across the clearing, turning his head
expectantly toward the cabin, as if expecting some response from that.
He even circled entirely around it, and then as if disgusted with the
failure of this enterprise upon his part, he, too, took his departure
into the woods, and the Texan was once more left alone.

Alone and wrought up to a high pitch of excitement. Several hours had
already passed since the departure from the cabin, and the party of
four was separated into three companies, hardly one knowing where to
look for each other, and not more than one understanding how great a
danger menaced them.

The young man was naturally filled with the greatest anxiety to do
something for his beloved, and with a desire to get the rest away from
the perilous spot, but his hands seemed really to be tied.

He could only stand still as it were, and see the procession go by
without taking part in it.

To add to his discomfort, he now began to be haunted by the thought
that she had already discovered her danger, and had followed after the
party, starting at such a time as to miss him.

So strong did this conviction become, that he had decided to do the
same, and make _that_ point clear, when his acutely sensitive ear
caught the sound of a footstep directly behind him.

It was so soft and stealthy, that he was certain at once of its being
made by an Indian, and he sprung behind a tree to protect himself.

"_Sebastian, it that you?_"

There was no mistaking _that_ voice, and, trembling with joy he moved
forward in the gloom, calling out, in a fond but cautious voice:

"My own Katrina, where are you?"

"Here, right before you."

And the next instant she was clasped in his arms.

"Safe and unharmed!" he exclaimed, as he kissed her cold forehead. "I
was in despair about you."

"Where are uncle and Colonel Crockett?"

"Gone on toward the village."

"And why are you here?"

"Do you suppose I could desert _you_ when in danger, my dearest one?
Have I ever given you cause for such a suspicion?"

"No, dearest Sebastian; but what shall we do?"

"Let us follow them at once."

"We can not take the path, for I tried to do so twice, and each time
was forced to turn back."

"Why so?"

"The Comanches are watching for us there!"



CHAPTER IX.

A GLEAM OF HOPE.


"If that is the case," said the Texan, "we must take a roundabout way
to get out of here. The Indians seem to be getting plentier every
minute."

"You must be careful about making any noise, for you know what keen
ears they have."

"Never fear about me," replied the Texan; "keep close and walk quietly
as I do."

They began stealing around the edge of the clearing in search of
another path very rarely traveled, and which, it was reasonable to
suppose, was unknown to the Indians. They had taken scarcely a dozen
steps, however, when the young man heard a rustling footstep just in
front of him, and instantly stopped.

The next second he discovered several figures coming toward him, and
self-preservation made him wheel on his foot so rapidly, that it was
impossible to avoid making a little noise.

Slight as it was it caught the ear of the Comanches, one of whom
uttered a "woofh!" and moved rapidly toward him.

"Run for the house!" exclaimed Sebastian to Katrina, when he saw the
shape affairs had assumed; "hold the door ready for me, and I'll follow
in a minute."

There was no time for hesitation, and the light-footed girl started
for the house, running as she did when pursued by the ravenous bear.
Discovery was inevitable, and the instant she emerged into the
moonlight, two Comanches, repeating the "woofh!" dashed out after her.

But a lion appeared in the way, in shape of the Texan, who, brandishing
his terrible Bowie over his head, leaped in front, with a regular
screech of a yell, and made a murderous lunge with the weapon at the
nearest Comanche, who dodged it with the nimbleness of an athlete.

Sebastian made a sort of back-handed sweep at the other red-skin, who
avoided the blow with the same astonishing dexterity, and drew back to
a respectful distance.

This demonstration on the part of the Texan had the effect of checking
the rush after Katrina, who continued on her way, without pausing,
until, reaching the cabin, she dashed in, and holding the door, so that
she could close it in an instant, looked out upon the thrilling scene.

While the defensive, defiant attitude of the brave defender kept the
two Comanches from him, it did not "neutralize" their abilities by any
means. They too had knives, but the two together were not the equal of
the Bowie, in the hands of the wiry Texan; but their voices remained
to them, and the two set up some whoops and yells of such a peculiar
character, that the young man knew at once that they were intended as
signals, and they would be certain to bring others speedily to their
assistance.

So he began retreating toward the cabin, walking backward, and
presenting a defiant attitude to his enemies, who, following close,
still permitted a safe gap between them and him.

Now and then the Texan threw a quick glance over his shoulder, to make
sure that none of the treacherous red-skins were stealing upon him. He
was within a rod or so of the house, when he saw what he dreaded.

Some half a dozen Indians were hurrying to the spot, coming almost
directly from the rear, so that, if he remained where he was, he was
quite sure to be surrounded, and cut off entirely from reaching the
house.

Such a thing would have been madness upon the part of Sebastian, who
instantly turned, and ran at the top of his speed toward the house,
both parties of Indians converging in swift pursuit.

Katrina was on the look-out for him, and the instant he reached the
door, it was drawn open to admit him, and then closed as quickly.
She was prepared for such a crisis as this, and swift as came the
Comanches, by the time they threw themselves against the door, the
massive fastenings were in their place, and it presented as immovable a
front to the assault, as the side of the cabin itself.

There was only one window upon the lower floor, and as soon as the
Texan was certain of the door, he ran to this, reaching it scarcely a
moment too soon; for the head and shoulders of a sinewy Indian were
already through the opening.

The next minute, the body of the savage dropped back to the ground, as
limp and lifeless as a log of wood.

The Bowie-knife had done its work!

This decided repulse of the Comanches had the result of making them
more cautious. The whole party, numbering nearly a dozen, scattered
like a covey of partridges across the clearing until they reached the
wood, where they gathered together to consult how this fearful man was
to be routed out and their fallen companion avenged.

Sebastian gazed after them and saw one of the men as he skurried away,
bearing the body of the victim upon his shoulders.

Confident that they would speedily return to the assault, the Texan
stationed himself in the lower room, rifle in hand, ready to pick off
the first savage that exposed himself, while Katrina went to the upper
story, which, having a window upon each side, gave a better outlook
than from below.

As yet, the lovers had scarcely exchanged a word since entering the
building, except that he gave a few hurried directions, during the
first five minutes. The common danger was too great for wooing and
winning at such a time.

The respite now granted by the Comanches gave the young man a little
time to collect his thoughts and take in the "situation."

When he came to reflect upon what he had done, the conviction came to
him that a mistake had been made. By taking to the woods, he could
have vanquished the two red-skins who attacked, and then got away with
Katrina in the darkness before the others could come up. Thus clear of
all danger, and in the protecting shadows of the wood, he could easily
put her out of the reach of her foes before the dawn of morning.

But what had they done?

Nothing less than shut themselves in the cabin, where the red-skins, if
they chose to wait, could "gobble" them up at their leisure.

Sebastian reflected that there was not a mouthful of food in the
house, nor a drop of water, as it had been cleared of both, before the
principal furniture was removed. If the Indians chose to remain were
they were for a few days, their prey would drop like ripe fruit into
their hands.

But suppose, as was most probably the case, that they did not intend to
make a siege, what then?

There was only a single gun in the house, while there were so many on
the outside, Indian ingenuity could devise a safe means of getting so
near the cabin, that it would be about impossible to use this or any
other weapon, and then they could go to work, make their preparations
and burn down the structure.

As to the prospect of a rescue, the Texan saw none at all. These was no
military force at all in this part of the Republic, and of those who
were able to reach the settlement, it was not to be supposed that any
would venture out, while there was any reason to believe the Comanches
were anywhere within striking distance.

The situation was desperate at the best, but like a brave man he had no
thought of surrender, so long as he had a hand to raise in the defense
of himself and of her who was dearer to him than his own life.

Fully an hour passed, and not the slightest sign of an Indian was seen.
Sebastian grew tired of watching alone, and ascended to the upper room
to join Katrina.

The moonlight which entered the different windows, made it quite light
here, and he saw her at once as she came forward to meet him. He
pressed her to his heart, and imprinting a kiss upon her cheek, led her
back to the window at which she was standing when he entered.

"We are in a bad fix," he said.

"There is hope, I trust."

"I can not see any, or very little at least."

"Will they not leave after such a repulse?"

"I see no hope of it."

"They are moving very rapidly, and will not linger long in this
neighborhood. You know the Comanches go as quickly as they come."

"Not always; we have slain one of their number, and they will get even
with us if possible. If they can manage to put me out of the way, I
have no doubt they will be satisfied to take you and go."

"Oh, Sebastian!" she exclaimed, in a reproving, tender voice, "why do
you speak so lightly of so terrible a thing? Do you think I could live
after your death?"

"I don't doubt your love, dearest, and I shall stay here and fight to
the death for you; but, at such a time as this, there is nothing to be
gained by shutting our eyes to the truth."

"And you think the chances are against our escape?"

"Decidedly so; indeed, I see no prospect at all. I would rather fight
fifty Mexicans than a half-dozen of these Comanches. They are so
nimble, that it is the hardest thing in the world to hit one of them,
and they know how to strike out for themselves, and have got ten times
the courage of a greaser."

"And have they no mercy?"

"Mercy! I should like to see a red-skin with such a thing as mercy. I
have never come across one as yet. I am only sorry that I didn't pitch
into those two fellows, and then take to the woods with you, before the
others came up; but, as it is, we must fight it out to the bitter end
with them."

Katrina started.

"Oh, I have thought of something!" she exclaimed, in an eager and glad
voice.

"What is it?"

"I think I see a way of escape."

Her tones and manner showed that she was in earnest, and a slight
flutter of hope came to her lover at the thought.



CHAPTER X.

A STRANGE DELIVERANCE.


There was contagion in the manner of Katrina, and her lover wondered
very much what she could mean. She replied by leading him to the window
and pointing toward the edge of the woods, opposite to the side upon
which the Comanches had retreated.

"I see nothing," he said, "except the cellar, where your uncle has been
in the habit of keeping his potatoes and cabbage."

"That's just what I want you to see; for there is our means of
escape--at least I _hope_ so."

Sebastian looked at the girl in amazement.

"I don't understand you; if you have any thing to tell me, Katrina,
don't speak in riddles."

"What I have to ask is this; if there was any way by which we could
reach that mound, do you think we could get off unobserved from there?"

The young man scanned the hillock of earth very closely for a few
moments.

"It might be done," he replied, a moment later. "I notice a lot of
bushes just back of it, which seem to reach almost to the woods."

"They do so entirely; they are currant bushes, planted by me several
years ago. They reach entirely to the forest."

"Under their shadow, one might manage to steal to the woods. At any
rate, I think I could do it; but why talk of such a thing?" he asked,
somewhat impatiently, "when from here to the potato cellar, the ground
is as hard and level as a door, and they could see a cat stealing
along."

"Between the house and the cellar there is an _underground
communication_, which uncle Hans made last summer. Why he did it I can
not tell, but I have been through it several times."

Sebastian sprung to his feet in delight.

"Is it possible? Why didn't you tell me of it before? We will try it at
once; we will make it a success."

"Suppose the Comanches come before we get away, will they not be likely
to find out where we have gone?"

"Possibly they might. Suppose you go first, and I will keep watch until
you are ready for me."

Another difficulty presented itself at this point, although it did not
amount to a great deal. The door which opened above-ground into the
cellar, was on the side toward the house, and opening outward, would be
pretty certain to attract the notice of the vigilant Indians.

"How thick are the walls?" asked Sebastian.

"They are lined with boards."

"They can be easily displaced, I have no doubt, and, as we shall have
to make a new opening, I will go into the cellar with you."

"Let us do so then without any delay."

The Texan concluded to make a survey from each window before going, and
he did so, scrutinizing every part of the clearing and wood with all
the care possible.

It seemed to the Texan that perhaps the Comanches while waiting had
gained the idea that the defenders of the house were off their guard
and asleep; so, to prevent any action from any such presumption, he
fired his gun toward the wood, and then reloading his piece turned to
Katrina.

"I don't think they will disturb the house for some time; let us go at
once."

Down-stairs they went, and then into the cellar beneath the lower
floor. Here, of course, every thing was of pitchy darkness, and
Sebastian was led by the hand by Katrina, who was familiar with every
step of the way.

The passage leading from the main cellar to that where the potatoes
and cabbage (their bulk generally being too great to admit them beneath
the house) was about thirty feet in extent, and its excavation must
have caused Hans Bungslager a great deal of labor.

As they walked through the cool passage, both were compelled to stoop
quite low to prevent striking their heads; but the passage required but
a few minutes, when they came within the large cavern-like opening used
for storage-room, but which at this season was almost empty.

"Well, here we are!" said the young man. "There's the door, for I can
see the moonlight shining through it, and right opposite is where we
must dig ourselves out."

"Will it not be safe to use the door? I am afraid it will delay us too
much."

"It is running too much risk; I think we can shortly dig our way out."

Groping around with his hands, he speedily got hold of the planking,
and only a little exertion was necessary to draw it loose. Then nothing
but a mass of soft earth was between them and the outside.

The Texan used the plank as a shovel, and driving it into the earth,
speedily loosened so much that an alarming yawn occurred--much larger
than was anticipated and such that both were afraid it would attract
the attention of their enemies.

They paused and listened, but, hearing nothing, Sebastian cautiously
peered out. Every thing was quiet, and he could not see any evidence
that suspicious eyes were turned upon them. Then telling Katrina to
wait until he reached the wood, he as carefully drew himself out, and
lay flat upon the ground.

Fortunately he was directly beside the vigorous currant bushes, which
interposed an effectual screen against the observation of those upon
the other side, while its heavy shadow gave him enough obscurity to
prevent his being seen by any foes from the other direction unless
their attention was especially directed to the spot. Both were dressed
in dark clothes, and their hearts beat high with hope.

Sebastian had replaced his Bowie down his back, and holding his rifle
in his left hand, he began the perilous journey.

He had almost fifty feet to travel, and he did it with the skill of a
veteran scout of the plains--creeping along foot by foot, pausing and
listening and looking on every side of him. As he neared the somber
and welcome shadow of the wood, he was strongly tempted to hasten his
progress, and had he been alone he might have done so.

But the last yard of the dangerous trip was made with the same
deliberation and care as the others. He breathed more freely when he
passed the clearing, but his anxiety still remained, as Katrina was yet
to follow.

She had kept her eyes fixed upon his form, so long as she was able to
see him. At times his progress was so slow or was checked that she
feared he had been discovered; but, when about in despair, she could
see that he was moving again. By and by her strained eyes failed to
identify him in the gloom, as he gradually receded, and she could only
conjecture when he got to the wood. She listened for some signal, but
hearing none, concluded every thing favorable, and then she began her
task.

As may be supposed, Sebastian stood in the edge of the wood watching
her movements with an intensity of interest which can scarcely be
understood. He could see her as she emerged from the cabin, when the
same shadow that enveloped him, hid her from view, until she had
advanced quite a distance along the path.

"If any Comanche wants to commit suicide, let him interfere with her,"
muttered the Texan, as he stood with rifle in hand, watching her
progress.

But fortune favored them. The red-skins were indeed keeping a watch,
but it was a watch upon the house, in which, of course, they supposed
the whites were still at bay.

Katrina accomplished the whole distance in safety, and, at length,
entered the wood, rose to her feet and stood beside her lover.

"Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, as he clasped her in his arms. "I was in
an agony of fear until this moment."

"We are not safe yet," she whispered, looking affrightedly round in the
darkness, "they must be somewhere near us."

"Come on," said the young man, taking her hand, "I think we can avoid
them."

Instead of making directly for the path, he led her by a circuitous
route, and struck it at a point a couple of hundred yards distant.

From this place they moved stealthily forward, and soon found that it
was free from their foes. They advanced with great care, and not until
they had gone fully a half-mile did they converse with any thing like
freedom.

"I think we are safe from _them_," said the young man, somewhat
exultingly, referring to the red-skins whom they had left behind them.

"How long will they wait there?"

"Perhaps they will stay a day or two in the hope of starving us out, or
they may make an assault in force and discover the trick that has been
played upon them."

"And then what will they do?"

"Set fire to the cabin and leave."

"I suppose so," replied Katrina with a sigh. "It is sad, but I am
thankful that we are not included in the ruin."

"How was it you kept out of their way so well, before we met?" asked
the Texan, with some curiosity.

"I was searching for the cow, and I was not long in finding her dead,
killed by a bullet. Then of course I knew the Comanches were close at
hand, and I hurried to the house to warn uncle Hans of his danger, but
found he had already gone. As he had a heavy load on the horse, and
could move only very slowly, I knew I could overtake him, whenever I
wished to do so. So I remained to see what the Indians were going to do.

"I felt able to keep out of the way, and was doing so, when I thought
I saw you. I managed to approach near enough to be sure, and I made
myself known, and you know the rest."

"Yes," replied the lover, squeezing her hand in his. "I know the rest
indeed. We have been spared by Providence, and have made a remarkable
escape from the beleaguered cabin. The Comanches are still abroad, and
there must be many of them between us and Brownston; your uncle Hans is
not the sharpest woodman in the world, but I trust that when we all get
together, as I hope we shall speedily do, a way will be opened for all
of us to reach a place of safety."



CHAPTER XI.

IN THE WOOD.


It will be recollected that Colonel Crockett and Hans Bungslager were
left under the conviction that a bear was close behind them in the
path, and that the Tennesseean, true to his instincts, dismounted and
started back rifle in hand in quest of the game.

"I dinks I goes, too," muttered the Dutchman, as he slid off the back
of his beast. "I would rather fight mit a bear, den haf te hoss run
away mit me, and catch a limb under my chin, and take off my head
off--yaw, dat so."

Hans held his gun in hand, and he resolved, if he could gain the
chance, to shoot the bear in advance of his companion. He thought it
would be a good joke to play upon him.

So as Colonel Crockett moved stealthily along the path, the corpulent
Hollander did the same to the best of his ability; stepping so lightly
and rapidly, that it made it quite a task for him, and he puffed and
panted like a tired dog.

"Confound it!" growled Crockett, turning his head. "Can't you keep
still?"

"Dat ish what I is doing," was the reply. "I doesn't make no noise."

"You will frighten away the game."

"Dat ish a lie--"

"'Sh! there it is."

Hans caught sight of something dark, moving along the path, and
instantly raised his blunderbuss and fired, narrowly missing taking off
the head of Colonel Crockett in front of him. He did not strike the
object, or come anywhere near it, but he produced a response, like a
six-pounder.

"There! that will do; we don't propose to hurt you."

It was the voice of Sebastian, the Texan, and, as may be supposed, was
a surprise and delight to the others.

"Where did I hit you? In te head, or in te heart?" inquired Hans
Bungslager, with some solicitude.

"It is hard to tell precisely where I was hit," was the laughing reply;
"at any rate, I am not dangerously hurt, as far as I know. Your slugs
struck in the tree overhead like a hail-storm."

"Where ish Katrina?"

"Here she is, uncle," replied the buxom girl herself, hurrying forward,
and giving the old fellow a good embrace and kiss.

"You must be more careful," said Hans, in an impressive voice. "S'pose
I hit you, instead of Sebastian? You couldn't stand it petter as he
does."

"We were very careful; how could we do differently?"

"Te next time dat you ish coming in front of us behind, you must come
on peforehand and tells us dat you ish comin'--den we knows it, and we
no shoot de next time. Understand?"

"Yes," replied Katrina, in a dazed sort of way, as she turned and took
the hand of Colonel Crockett, who was heartily glad to see her.

"We were gittin' a little anxious about you," said he, as he warmly
shook the hand; "we heard the noise of guns and there was no telling
where the varmints war, or what they was doing. I've fout the Creek
Injins under old Gineral Jackson, and I've fout Old Hickory himself
in Congress, and got licked by him too, so you can see I've been
through some purty rough scrimmages in my time; but they say these
Comanches are a little worse than all, and that being the case, you can
understand why I'm so glad to see you."

Katrina modestly thanked him, while the Texan gave a brief summary of
their experience during the last few hours.

The question now arose as to what course should be taken by the
fugitives. Crockett believed that an attempt to push on into the
village would result in the capture of the entire party, while to stay
where they were would be equally fatal, as there was the strongest
evidence that the Comanches were very near them.

Indeed, the wonder was that they were unmolested at that very moment,
for some of the red-skins had passed over that very spot, and how the
whites had escaped detection and capture so long was a mystery to
Crockett.

"I ain't particular what we do," said he; "I only know we've got to get
out of this part of creation."

"Let's go on further, any way," replied the Texan, starting on foot,
with Katrina.

"Where ish te cow?" suddenly inquired Bungslager, just after he had
laboriously climbed back upon his animal.

"We couldn't bring her very well," replied the Texan; "I think she will
wait where she is till we come back."

"Dat is goot ash never vos," replied the contented Hollander; "she wash
always a goot cow and shtood shtill, only when she kicked te pail over,
and dat wash every time we milked, 'ceptin Sundays, when she kicked te
pail and me over bofe."

The young man being thoroughly acquainted with the path, and having
fought Comanches before, very properly took the lead, Katrina following
close behind him, while Crockett came next, and Hans Bungslager brought
up the rear.

In this order they started, and, as the horse of the Dutchman was
relieved of his bulky load of furniture, the party progressed at a good
pace, and without any unusual clatter or noise.

Stupid, thoughtless and reckless as Hans Bungslager naturally was, with
his love for fun and jollity outrunning every thing else, he still had
a perception (such as it was) of the danger that menaced them all, and
he showed a spasmodic discretion at times.

His little pony, as fat, round and well-preserved as himself, seemed to
comprehend the situation, and walked along with a steady, quiet step,
that was not heard as often as the quicker and more nervous tread of
Crockett's mustang. Hans himself was still, a rather unusual thing for
him.

Once or twice he started up a whistle, without thinking, but he
suddenly recalled himself to his senses, and preserved his peace as
well as the others.

He was subject to one annoyance, rather curious in its way. Every now
and then a conviction came over him that something was following him.
Sometimes he fancied that a Comanche was stealing on tip-toe, with
tomahawk in hand, ready to hurl it at his bald pate. More than once he
turned his head suddenly, expecting to confront the ugly phantom, but
it seemed to whisk out of sight before he could fix his vision upon it.

Then he was certain it was a huge black bear, lumbering along, and only
waiting for the opportunity to leap upon the haunches of his horse and
claw them both to pieces.

This was curious, as Hans Bungslager was one of the least imaginative
of men, and was rarely troubled with nightmare or phantoms of the
brain, but the feeling followed him like his own shadow, and would not
be shaken off.

He determined to wait until sure of what it was, and then to turn
suddenly and shoot it. There was no danger now of hitting Katrina,
Sebastian or any of his friends, for they were all in front of him. It
must be an enemy beyond all question, and therefore it was his duty to
put a ball through it at the very first opportunity.

The party had gone some distance, when a light was observed in the
sky, of so lurid a character, as to show that there was some large
conflagration.

"See what we have escaped," whispered the Texan, as he turned to look
at it, and ventured to press the hand of the girl beside him.

"Have they found out that we have fled?"

"Perhaps so, and perhaps not; they wouldn't hesitate to roast us in
such a bonfire, if they could only get the opportunity."

"It is then our house that is burning?"

"There can be no doubt of it. There is no other building near it, and
the light is in precisely the same spot. It is good-by to your home
now."

"Uncle Hans will mourn its loss, but how can I, when Heaven has been so
merciful to me?"

"He will have to build another; _you_ will not!"

"But I will assist him."

"But there's a little cottage in Brownston, already finished, around
which the honeysuckles and woodbine clamber, that is to be _your_ home."

As the lover spoke, he leaned over in the darkness, and kissed the
cheek that was not turned away from him.

Beyond the danger and darkness that enveloped them both, he saw the
rainbow of hope. There was a sky all sunshine that was only a short
distance away, and with the darling beautiful, loved Katrina by his
side, there was nothing that could cloud or make him unhappy.

Hans Bungslager saw the light, but he had no suspicion that it was his
own building that was on fire, else he would not have been so quiet, as
he rode upon his horse.

The whites paused but a few moments, when they resumed their journey,
moving with the same caution that had characterized their actions from
the first.

They were rapidly nearing a large clearing, where stood another
settler's house, and where there was reason to fear that some of
the wandering Comanches had made their appearance. No light in the
sky betrayed the work of the torch, but that was no proof that the
destroyer was not there that minute.

The Texan gave a word of caution to those in the rear, and when the
lighting up of the spaces between the trees tokened their approach to
the clearing, he requested all to remain still while he advanced and
made a reconnoissance.

This was done, and he stole along as softly and timidly as when making
his way from the cabin of Hans Bungslager.

Reaching the clearing, he saw the settler's house, standing as quiet
and undisturbed as though no danger had ever threatened it. No sounds
were audible, but there were no lights to be seen. Sebastian came to
the conclusion that the owner and his family had taken the alarm in
time and had fled to Brownston.

Still it was important that no mistake should be committed, and he
made his reconnoissance complete, by advancing up to the very house,
and even peering into the interior. The result confirmed his first
impression. There were no whites in them, and he returned to his
friends with his report to that effect.



CHAPTER XII.

A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.


The Texan having rendered his report, the party made ready to move on
again, when a rather alarming discovery was made.

Hans Bungslager was nowhere to be found!

There stood his horse, as quiet and unconcerned as though nothing
extraordinary had happened, but his rider was missing.

What did it mean?

This was the question which the three asked each other, and which no
one was able to answer.

"He came up and talked with us a few minutes, while you were gone,"
said Katrina, who was more alarmed than the others, "and then said he
would go back and get on his horse so as to be ready to start if all
should prove right, and that is the last we saw of him."

"Did he say nothing about going away?" asked the Texan.

"Not a word."

"What did he talk about?"

"Nothing in particular," said Katrina, trying to recall his words.

"I remember," put in Colonel Crockett, "that he said that he believed
something was follerin' him--either a bear or red-skin."

"That makes it look serious," remarked Sebastian, in an undertone.

"Why so?"

"Because probably something was following, and that something has been
the means of his disappearance."

"I don't see as there's any thing in that," added Colonel Crockett,
"for he talked the same way when you and Katrina came up."

"Exactly, and he was right, for we were in his rear, and he detected
us."

"But what could it be?" asked his alarmed niece. "No Indian could have
come anywhere near without our detecting him."

"Not unless he wanted us to do so; then it would have been easy enough.
I tell you," added the Texan, more earnestly than ever, "I believe
there has been some sharp trick played upon us."

Carsfield was firm in his belief, but he could give no definite
conjecture as to what the trick he referred to really was.

"I have had dealings with the Comanches before," he continued, "and
when they go to scheming and playing at strategy, they are a little the
sharpest fellows I ever saw."

"But I can see no object in this," said Katrina. "Uncle Hans is not
such a tempting prize that they should steal him and leave us."

"That is it," laughed Crockett; "when _you_ are here, any red or white
man would pass by us for _you_; you are right, Katrina."

"That is not what I meant," the blushing girl hastened to say; "but he
is the last man, as I look at it, that a party of Indians would seek to
capture."

"Our turn, _your_ turn, my dearest one, will soon come. They have
experimented on him; they have succeeded so well that their next
attempt will be upon us."

The words of Sebastian struck both Crockett and Katrina as full of
meaning, and they began to believe that he was right, although the
whole thing had a look which, neither of the three could explain or
understand.

When the Comanches were in such force, that an assault upon the
whiles could not but result in their capture or destruction, it
seemed incredible that they should take the pains and time to work
by artifice; but by what other means could the disappearance of the
Dutchman be accounted for?

"How was it done?" asked the perplexed girl, who was in a tremor of
anxiety about her uncle.

"That is a question which can only be answered by a guess," was the
reply. "I think one of the red scamps has followed us some distance,
and showed himself in some way or in some shape to Hans, so that he has
been led to follow after and attempt to capture him, and that's what
he's after now."

This at best was a very unsatisfactory explanation, and it did not suit
the originator of it himself.

"Must we leave him to his fate?" asked the girl, scarcely able to
restrain her tears of sympathy; "must he be left to perish?"

"I dislike the idea of leaving you again," replied Sebastian, "when
we are all in such danger; but, if you wish it, I will take the back
track, and make a short hunt for him."

"Oh! do," pleaded Katrina, taking one of his hands in both of hers and
pressing it; "do it for my sake. Colonel Crockett will wait here with
me, won't you?"

"Sartinly--any thing to please you," was the gallant reply. "I think,
howsumever, that it is all time lost."

But the affectionate girl would hear no refusal, and the Texan prepared
to obey.

"You must promise me that you will not leave this place, and that you
will not fire again unless you have to do so to save yourself," he
said, addressing himself to Colonel Crockett, who, of course, gave the
promise.

"You are now standing in the path," added the Texan. "Perhaps it will
be safer to withdraw a little to one side, so as to be out of the way
of any that may come along."

This was a good advice, and was acted upon at once. Crockett led the
horses some distance into the woods and fastened them to trees, where
they were beyond the sight of the keenest-eyed Comanche, and then their
friend took his departure.

Katrina was in a tremor of alarm, and seating herself beside the
Tennesseean, wept like a child. The grizzled wanderer did his best to
comfort her, but there was little he could say to soothe her alarm, and
so he let her have her cry out.

When something like a calm came back to her, it struck him that
something ought be done by way of diverting her attention from the
gloomy subject.

"Let's go to the edge of the clearing, and see whether any of the
varmints are about?"

She arose, and the two advanced to the open space, where the low, broad
deserted cabin could be seen, standing as quiet in the moonlight as
when they first cast eyes upon it.

"Hallo! there's something now!" whispered Crockett, touching the arm of
the girl, "and by the hokey-pokey, if it ain't a big bear!"

A large lumbering animal could be seen, shambling awkwardly over the
clearing near the house, as though he were searching for something to
eat.

The great bear-hunter impulsively raised his gun.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Just wait a moment, and see how nice I will drop that chap."

"No; you mustn't," she interrupted, drawing down his arm. "Remember the
promise you made to Sebastian."

"But he didn't mean bears," plead Crockett, very loth to forego the
pleasure of picking off the noble game.

"He meant every thing; he meant that you mustn't make the least noise
to bring the Comanches down upon us, and _you mustn't do it_!"

By this time the bear had disappeared around the house, and the hunter
reluctantly lowered his piece.

"Would thar be any harm," he asked, entreatingly, "in me slipping after
the critter, and chasing him away off in the woods, and then dropping
him?"

"And leaving me alone?"

"Ah, me!" sighed Crockett, "I s'pose you're right, but b'ars is my
weakness, and when I see one, thar's such an itching in my hands, that
it's mighty hard work to keep still, but I'll stick to you, till we get
out of this muss."

He asked as a boon, however, that she would consent to his standing
where he was so as to _look_ at the bear, if he should put in an
appearance again.

Katrina could not well refuse this, but she took good care to remain
with him, for after what she had witnessed, it was plain that he could
not be trusted, in the matter of bears.

Crockett stood faithful at his post for half an hour, carefully
scanning the clearing, forgetful of the absent Bungslager, and
Sebastian, and of his own danger, and intent only upon seeing the
animal which he had hunted with so much zest in the years past in the
wilds of his own Tennessee.

But nothing more of the huge creature was seen, and turning
disappointedly away, he and Katrina walked back in the wood, resumed
their seats, and awaited the coming of the young Texan.

About an hour had passed, and they were beginning to feel some
solicitude for the safety of the Texan himself, when he reappeared as
silently as an Indian hunter.

But he was alone.

"Have you learned nothing of him?" inquired the trembling Katrina,
hastening to her lover.

"Nothing at all," was the reply, as he took her two hands, and kissed
her face. "I went back for nearly a mile, and called to him a dozen
times, but heard and saw nothing at all that could give me the least
clue to his disappearance."

The poor girl covered her face and gave a wail of despair.

"Did you see nothing of the varmints?" inquired Crockett.

"No; I hardly know what to make of it; I am quite puzzled at the turn
affairs have taken."

So were they all, and the question remained:

"What shall we do?"



CHAPTER XIII.

BY THE CREEK.


The general opinion among the whites was that nothing was to be gained
by pushing on toward Brownston, at the present time.

They were now within a few miles of the village, and were pretty well
satisfied that they would have to run a regular gantlet to pass the
Comanches. Such a proceeding was not to be thought of so long as it
could be avoided.

"It won't do to turn back, nor to go forward, nor to stay here,"
remarked the young man, after quite a lengthy discussion.

"Isn't there some place, further in the woods," asked Crockett, "where
the varmints ain't likely to look for us?"

They were silent a few minutes, and then Katrina suddenly spoke:

"Do you remember that cavern, Sebastian, where we once halted when we
went fishing in the canoe?"

"The very spot," exclaimed the Texan, "and we can't be far from it. We
will leave our horses here and go to it."

"But tell me," she added, in a low voice, intended for his ears only,
"what about Uncle Hans? Is he to be left to perish?"

He turned his face toward her and spoke in the tenderest manner:

"You know, Katrina, that there is nothing in the world that I would
refuse to do for you; and you will believe me, when I tell you that
nothing in the world can be done for him. We are powerless to aid him
in the least."

"But what do _you_ think of it?"

"I have a strong belief that he will turn up all right in spite of the
bad look it has now. It is painful to you, but it can not be helped."

"You will hear nothing more from me about it," she replied, "so long as
other matters command your thoughts."

It was deemed best to unfasten the horses and lead them still deeper
into the wood, so as to make certain of their being out of sight of
any Indians who might appear in the path or clearing. Then they were
fastened to the limbs of trees, so as to prevent their straying, and
then, under the leadership of the Texan, they pushed on for the retreat
to which reference has been made.

A half-mile or thereabouts brought them the creek beside which the path
led for some distance, and then a few hundred yards to the right and
the refuge was reached.

Crockett saw an irregular pile of rocks, jutting out over the creek,
but no sort of entrance was visible.

Katrina, however, sprung nimbly upon the first bowlder and walked
rapidly up and over the mass, followed by the others, until she had
gone about twenty feet, when she leaped down a distance about equal to
her own hight, and their destination was reached.

It did not prove to be much of a cavern, but the rocks jutted and
lapped over each other in such a way as to make a hollow extending
about a half-dozen feet back.

The advantages of this retreat were, first, that it was not likely to
be visited by the Comanches, and in case it was, the occupants were
capable of making a successful defense for some time. They could not be
injured by fire, and the means of approach prevented any mass swarming
into and overwhelming them.

Hunger and thirst were the only effectual agents that could be brought
against them, and, under the circumstances, there was not much
probability of these being employed.

Accordingly, so far as they were concerned themselves, the three felt
warranted in considering themselves perfectly safe.

Then it remained for them to await the withdrawal of the Comanches,
which it was possible would occur within twenty-four hours.

As the Texan had remarked, these Indians strike quick, sharp blows, and
then vanish in time to avoid the recoil. They own the swiftest mustangs
of the south, and are among the finest horsemen in the world.

Their bravery is unquestioned, and the hunters of Texas, at any time,
would rather fight a score of Mexicans than a half-dozen of these
Comanches.

The whites had scarcely reached their retreat, when they heard the
sounds of guns in the direction of the village, proving that fighting
was going on there.

The sound of guns was incessant, and now and then the well-known
Comanche yells could be distinguished, proving that serious fighting
was going on between them and the settlers, who ought to be safe,
however, on their own ground.

It was only an illustration of the reckless bravery of these red-men,
who were not afraid to be the attacking party, when the odds were
against them.

The rattling fire lasted for full an hour, and then the shots became
dropping and scattering and the fighting evidently assumed a more
desultory character.

As the three whites stood leaning against the wall of rocks behind
them, and looking across the moonlit creek into the gloomy woods
beyond, they became aware of a gradual lighting up of the sky overhead,
with a glare which they soon saw reflected upon the leaves before them.

"Another fire!" exclaimed Sebastian, in an undertone.

"Close by, too," added Crockett.

"What can it be?" asked Katrina.

"It is the building which we saw, and where we were certain there was
no danger at all from the Indians," replied the Texan.

"Indeed, our escape has been wonderful," added the astonished girl; "we
have been walking and wandering about in the woods, with the Indians on
every side of us, and yet not a hair of our heads has been harmed."

"We have been wonderfully protected," responded her lover, "and I only
hope the same care will be continued to us."

"But others have not been so fortunate."

"No," said Sebastian, with a sigh, "such a raid as this must always
accomplish something. Where there are so many exposed, some of them
must fall. More than one house will be rendered desolate by this
incursion of the Comanches."

It was on the tongue of Katrina, as the thought of her uncle entered
her mind, to say that one home had already been made so; but she
recalled the promise made to her lover and held her peace.

By this time the night was more than half gone, and the three began to
look for the appearance of day.

The opinion of the Texan was that there would be a good deal of
fighting on the morrow, as the Comanches would be likely to scatter in
small bands through the country, seeking out the exposed settlers, and
wreaking their revenge upon them, for the repulse they were sure to
receive at the hands of the villagers.

This day would prove the dangerous one for the fugitives hiding beside
the creek.

Through all the hurry and bustle of danger, Crockett had held fast
to the bear-skin, which he had stripped from the body of the monster
with whom he had such a hard combat upon entering the cabin of Hans
Bungslager.

He now spread this upon the rock, as far back as they could penetrate,
and invited Katrina to lie down and rest.

Her lover urged her to do the same, but she waited until his blanket
was laid upon it, and then she reclined, and owing to her great fatigue
almost immediately dropped asleep.

The two men advanced to the outer edge of rocks and sat down to consult
a few moments upon the situation, and to speak without restraint
regarding the disappearance of Hans Bungslager.

"I feel some hope regarding him," said the Texan, "but I can not call
up any _reason_ for such a hope."

"I believe he's gone under _sure_," replied Crockett; "they've managed
to git him away from us and then knifed him so quick that he hadn't any
time to make any noise about it."

"Poor Katrina! it will be a hard blow for her, for she dearly loved her
uncle, who as dearly loved her."

"It didn't look much like it, when he come away and forgot her."

"He told the truth when he said he forgot her; he is the most
absent-minded man I ever saw. He sometimes forgets where he is, and
until I asked him where she was, he had no idea that he had such a
thing in the broad world as a niece named Katrina Duncan."

"Perhaps he has wandered away in one of his absent spells."

"It may be, but I hardly believe it."

All this time, while the two were talking, each had been listening to
something on the opposite side of the stream.

Neither had made any reference to it, as he wanted to avoid any
mistake, but while holding converse, their eyes kept wandering across
the stream in quest of the cause of the disturbance.

The disturbance itself was in the shape of a slight rustling of the
bushes. At first, it seemed to be caused by the wind; but when it was
continued and repeated for several minutes, it was manifest that there
was some definite cause for it.

More than one glance had been cast across the creek, but nothing at all
was discerned for some time, that could explain what it meant.

Instinctively reading the thoughts of Crockett, the Texan said:

"I guess it's a wild animal."

"I think so; very likely a bear," was the characteristic reply.

"'Sh! look!"

At that juncture the dark form of the creature was discerned in the
bushes on the other side of the creek.

Crockett caught up his rifle, but the Texan interposed.

"Hold on a minute; do you think that is a bear?"

"I'm sartin of it."

"It looks like a bear," replied young Carsfield, the Texan, "but, _my
opinion is that it is a Comanche warrior_!"



CHAPTER XIV.

HANS BUNGSLAGER.


I have spoken of the feeling, or rather conviction, that came over
Hans Bungslager that some one or some thing was following him. This
conviction became more settled, and when he dismounted on the edge of
the clearing not a particle of doubt remained.

He walked forward where Katrina and Crockett were standing, and
referred to the annoyance, and then something else coming into his
head, he forgot all about it.

Walking back where his horse was standing, he was about to elevate
himself to his seat, when he heard a pattering upon the leaves, and
looking down the path, saw what appeared to be a huge bear cavorting
about fifty rods distant.

"Doonder and blitzen! I dinks dat vos you!" he muttered, the instant he
saw the creature, "and I gets you now!"

Rifle in hand, he started on a heavy run, determined to give the
audacious brute his _quietus_ for his attempts to disturb him.

The bear seemed to take fright at his coming, and danced further away.
Several times the Hollander raised his gun, but ere he could make his
aim sure, the creature managed to get a tree between him and his foe,
who lowered his piece, and, with an exclamation of impatience, hurried
forward to get a better position.

This game at bo-peep continued for a long time, and Hans Bungslager
was drawn much further away from his friends than he supposed. He was
determined to shoot the intruder when he started, and the oftener he
was baffled the more determined did he become.

Once he had the aim exactly, and pulled the trigger with such vigor
that he came nigh breaking it, but found he had not raised the hammer,
and when he lowered his piece to rectify the error, and raised it
again, the aim was lost.

"Dat ish bad as never vas!" growled the angered Dutchman, as he panted
forward again, rapidly gaining on the creature.

By and by he was sure of a chance; he saw the bear sitting on his
haunches near the path, and resting his rifle on the crotch of a dead
limb, he took deliberate aim at the body of the brute.

His dumpy finger was pressing the trigger again, when he discovered
that he was aiming at a stump, and the bear was tumbling along a
hundred feet in advance.

"Doonderation!" gasped Hans Bungslager, almost dropping his gun in
amazement, "dat bear must have shpit dat stump up ag'in."

Nothing daunted, however, he resumed his pursuit, and was gaining quite
rapidly on the creature, when he saw something that alarmed him.

In hurrying along the path it was frequently only barely discernible,
and then when reaching a place where the moonlight streamed down upon
it, it could be distinguished with great distinctness.

On one of these occasions Hans saw the bear run on its hind feet in
a style such as no bear in the world could be trained to do, and in
just such a posture as a man would take who was tired of running in a
stooping position on his hands and knees.

The conclusion was inevitable; he was chasing an Indian disguised as a
black bear.

"Doonder and blitzen!" muttered Bungslager, as a cold chill of terror
ran through him at the discovery, "dat ish--dat ish--_fooney_!"

Obtuse and reckless as he was at times, the Hollander had brains enough
to perceive the deadly peril into which he had run. The Comanche
had adopted this artifice to draw him away from his friends, and to
encompass his destruction.

He was in a quandary as to what he should do.

If he kept on his pursuit, one result was inevitable, and if he turned
to retreat, following the path back again, the cunning red-skin would
know that his stratagem had been detected, and he in turn would become
pursuer and assailant.

Hans was never a good shot with a rifle, and he was pretty certain
that this bear was protected in some such a way that he could not be
injured by any rifle however well aimed, so he gave over all thought of
injuring the savage by means of his gun.

He could see only one thing that offered any hope, and that was to
give the Indian the slip. He was now quite a distance ahead, and still
seeking to allure him on. They were entering a part of the wood that
looked quite dense and dark, and here Hans resolved to make the effort
to get out of an exceedingly bad scrape.

So he followed along, trotting in his elephantine style, and to carry
out the illusion, he called out:

"Hold on, you pig coward bears; I got you now, and I shoots you sure,
in one minnit."

The bear, somewhat alarmed, trotted so rapidly ahead that it was nearly
lost to view in the darkness.

Now was his time.

Dropping as suddenly as if he was shot, he crawled on all fours, as
rapidly as his bulky form would admit, until he had gone something like
a hundred feet, when, panting and tired, he paused and listened.

The darkness around him was too great for him to see any thing of the
"bear," but the sound of a faint, muffled whoop told him that he had
been none too soon in his movement, and his foe was signaling to some
confederate, and they were both endeavoring to remedy the slip upon
their part.

"Yaw; lets 'em look!" chuckled Hans. "I dinks dey won't find me purty
soon as never vos."

Waiting until he was thoroughly rested and could hear no more, he arose
to his feet, and resumed his flight, taking good care to continue on in
the direction upon which he had started, and going further and further
away from the dangerous vicinity of his enemy, who had shown so much
ingenuity in endeavoring to draw him on to his own destruction.

So far as he could do so, Hans Bungslager advanced without making any
noise, for he knew how sharp the sense of hearing was upon the part of
the Indians. He plodded along in this manner, for the better part of an
hour, when his further progress was checked by his coming upon the bank
of the creek, to which I have made frequent reference.

Here he paused in a quandary.

"I dink I kin wades across dat," he mused, as he surveyed the calmly
flowing stream, "and den I gits on de oder side, and den I dinks I
ought to be on dis side, so I won't stay here nor goes to de oder side."

This perhaps was a sage conclusion, but rather difficult of
fulfillment. Very naturally he felt safer upon the other bank of the
creek, further away from the plotting Indians: but he was well aware
that the stream was quite deep in some places.

He stood undecided some minutes, and then the point was settled by
hearing the report of a gun at no great distance behind him.

"Doonder!" he exclaimed with a start, "mebbe dey shoots dat at me! I
dink I leaf!"

Anxious as he was to advance, and warm as was the summer night, he
preferred to reach the other shore in dry clothes; so he sat down upon
the bank and carefully removed his shoes and pants, and tying them into
a bundle, slung them over the barrel of his rifle, which rested over
his shoulder, and then ventured into the stream.

"Dish ish nice," he murmured, as the cool water crept up about his
bulky calves, "dish ain't deep."

Step by step he felt his way along, until he had reached the center of
the stream, where the water was not more than eighteen inches.

"Dish ish bettrish goot," he continued, "dish ish de way to cross de
brooks. I dinks dat I alway does--"

Despite his care, at this juncture he went into a hole, up to his neck.
As he sunk down, he gasped:

"Oo--oo!"

At the same time, he threw up both arms with such an involuntary
suddenness that the bundle dropped from his gun and began floating away
from him.

"Doonder and blitzen!" he exclaimed, as he plunged after it, still
grasping his gun, with a vice-like grip.

He managed to secure the bundle just as it was sinking, but it was only
a partial success. The indispensables remained in his hands, but the
shoes, with the carefully knit stockings wadded in them, vanished from
his view.

He groped around in the water some time for them, but they were not
to be found, and not a little disappointed, he made his way to land,
narrowly escaping a total submerge ere he succeeded.

He concluded that this way of crossing was not without its
disadvantages, and he was not clear in his mind that he could recommend
its adoption to his friends.

But, Hans was a sort of philosopher, and donning his pants, put himself
in the best condition possible.

At this juncture it occurred to him that perhaps Katrina would be
somewhat concerned at his absence, and he regretted that he had not
made known his intention before he started in pursuit of his bear.

He debated the matter awhile, but saw no practical way of remedying the
matter, and resolved to give it no further attention.

Child-like, he still felt the desire to keep moving, under the
impression that he was getting further and further away from his peril.

He had not accomplished any considerable distance, when he found that
he was unequal to the task of what would have been but sport in his
boyhood. He was not walking upon a carpet, nor anything like it. In the
darkness he could not pick his way, and the part of prudence was for
him to stop.

"I dinks I takes a nap, and shtarts when de morning comes to-morrow,"
he murmured, as he selected a suitable spot and stretched himself upon
the ground, where, for the present, I leave him sleeping the sleep of
innocence and health.



CHAPTER XV.

THE COMANCHE BEAR.


The declaration of Sebastian Carsfield that the object seen by him
and Crockett across the creek, instead of being a bear, was an Indian
gotten up in that shape, let in a flood of light upon both.

"I wouldn't shoot!" added the Texan; "let us go back, where he can't
hit us, and we will watch it."

They carefully withdrew a few paces, and lying down flat upon the rock,
peered over at the suspicious object.

They discovered little or nothing more. The dark huge figure of the
animal was seen for a few minutes, groping around in the undergrowth,
when it took itself off and did not come back.

"That's the bear I see'd on the clearin'," remarked Crockett; "and that
Katrina wouldn't let me shoot."

"Yes; it would have been a good thing if you could have put a ball
through it. I think it has been by some such means that Hans Bungslager
has been led on into the woods to his own destruction."

The night was so clear and still that the two men, almost
unconsciously, fell asleep, as they lay stretched out upon the rock.

The hours passed on, and when it began to grow light, Katrina awoke
and advanced to the front of the cavern, and paused beside the two men
stretched out there.

Both were sleeping soundly, and she looked at them for a few minutes
with feelings of commiseration.

"They are tired out and wearied," she murmured; "they will need sleep,
and I will let them be until I return."

Very carefully she came down from among the rocks, and advancing to
the edge of the creek bathed herself in it. The water was so cool and
refreshing that she plashed her hands it for several minutes.

No thought of danger entered her head, as she believed the place so
secluded that there was scarcely a possibility of their being disturbed
by the foes they dreaded so much. Had she known what her friends had
seen during the previous night, she would have been more careful in her
movements.

She was about a hundred yards from where the men were sleeping, and
sat down on the mossy bank of the stream for a few minutes to enjoy a
slight breeze that was fanning her face and that made music among the
rustling leaves.

The sky was clear, and the sunlight penetrated the woods with its
revivifying influence; but for the disappearance of her uncle she would
have been in the best of spirits. The cabin had been swept away, but
she and the two men had escaped with their lives, and to her, it seemed
that scarcely any danger had passed.

She had sat thus some ten minutes or thereabouts, when a crackling of
the bushes across the stream caused her to raise her head, and she
caught sight of what appeared to be a large black bear.

It was only a partial glimpse that she obtained, and the animal seemed
to be going away from her further into the wood.

"I guess he hasn't seen me," she concluded, as something warned her
that she had already remained away from the cavern too long.

So she concluded to wait a few minutes longer, as she felt a reluctance
to awake the hunters, who so badly needed sleep.

A short time after, she heard a ripple in the water above her, and she
looked up-stream, but saw nothing.

For the reason she was a moment too late. Had she been a little more
prompt, she would have detected that same "Comanche bear," carefully
wading across the creek, and using his hind legs in such a manner that
he stood upright like a man.

Katrina was unusually short-sighted to-day. Even when the water in
front of her flowed by dark and discolored, she failed to take warning,
and sat some time longer in a sort of dreamy reverie, hardly conscious
of what was going on about her.

But after awhile she roused herself to her situation and with a sigh
rose to her feet, and started on her return.

Her senses were now on the alert, and so, when she had taken a dozen
steps or so, she caught a glimpse of the bear, she had seen some time
before, and it was now directly between her and the rocks she was
seeking to reach.

This was bad, as she still had no gun in hand, and could not therefore
defend herself if attacked.

The manner of the brute seemed to indicate that he was not aware of her
proximity, and she leaped lightly behind a tree, for the purpose of
concealing herself.

She stood thus some ten minutes, debating whether she should call to
Carsfield or Crockett, or wait until they should awake themselves, or
the bear should withdraw.

It looked as if the latter were about to be the case, as the bear
seemed to be browsing around in an aimless way, constantly on the move,
and therefore he would be likely soon to move far enough to one side to
permit her to reach her refuge.

For this she waited, now and then growing impatient at the tardy
movements of the bear. The latter was constantly stirring about, but
somehow or other, it appeared to be back and forth, between her and the
rocks, and never once so much to one side, as to tempt her to make the
effort.

Furthermore, Katrina could not shut her eyes to the fact, that the
brute was gradually approaching her.

This, in the course of a few minutes became so apparent, that the
girl felt that her situation was becoming critical. A terror of alarm
shook her frame, and she was on the point of uttering a call to her
lover, when the bear shied off to one side so much as to give her the
"opening," so ardently desired.

Katrina stood trembling and hesitating for a moment, and then with one
ejaculated prayer, started like a fawn for the rocks.

She did not look to the right nor left, but she had scarcely started,
when she became aware that the bear had risen on his hind feet and was
seeking to intercept her.

Faster she ran, until she seemed to fly over the ground, but the
bear was more fleet of foot than she, and scarcely a dozen steps had
elapsed, when it became certain that she was to be intercepted by her
enemy.

Then Katrina turned her affrighted gaze upon her foe, and instead
of a bear saw a Comanche warrior, with a bear-skin thrown over his
shoulder, and its frightful head upon top of his own, directly in front
of her.

Still she sought to escape him; but the next instant his brawny arm
was thrown around her, and as he turned to flee with his captive, her
terrified scream rung through the woods and she swooned away.



CHAPTER XVI.

COLONEL CROCKETT'S LAST BEAR-HUNT.


"Surely I heard some one call me," muttered Sebastian Carsfield,
the Texan, as he roused himself up and rubbed his eyes. "What does
this mean? Crockett and I have both been asleep. What a warning to a
sentinel not to lie down or give way to drowsiness. But was that voice
a dream or a reality--"

He turned his head and saw that Katrina was gone.

With a dreadful, chilling horror at his breast, he sprung to his feet,
looked around and called out, "_Katrina!_ +Katrina!+ KATRINA!"

That voice penetrated far through the woods and reached the ears of
her who was being carried so swiftly away in the grasp of the painted
Comanche. She sought to reply, but the brute checked her utterance, and
the shrieks died out into a gasping sob.

"What's up now?" demanded Crockett, awakened by the tumult of his
comrade.

"God knows what's become of Katrina," was the despairing reply; "she
has vanished, gone or been stolen."

"Maybe she's somewhere about," replied the Tennesseean, rousing himself.

"No; I am sure it was her calling to me that awoke me a few minutes
ago."

"Then we oughter be on the move," added Crockett, leaping to his feet.
"What direction did it come from?"

"Coming to me in my sleep, I can hardly tell; but it strikes me that it
was from off yonder."

Crockett, led by some indefinable impulse, snatched up the bear-skin,
and with it over his arm, sprung down from among the rocks into the
woods below.

"We must take the trail," he added to the Texan, who had already
discovered it on the ground, and answered:

"There it is, leading toward the creek. She has gone there to bathe
herself."

A few moments sufficed to take them to the spot, where she had spent
a half-hour or so, early in the morning, and then they observed the
circuitous route back again, which suggested that she had discovered or
was seeking to avoid some danger.

There was no difficulty in tracing the footsteps to the point where the
Comanche bear had seized and borne her away. The prints on the ground
perplexed them for a few minutes.

"They were made by an Indian without a doubt," said the Texan.

"And that Indian," said Crockett, "was the bear that we saw last night
on t'other side of the creek."

"That's it! that's it!" fairly gasped young Carsfield; "it's their old
tricks over again. He can't be far away anyhow, and we will run him
into the ground before he can reach his confederates."

The Tennesseean was satisfied that this was the true course, and the
two started forward at once, the trail over the dead and rumpled leaves
being such that it was easily followed.

"He is running very fast," added Sebastian, when they had progressed
something like a hundred yards upon their way.

"But he can't carry the gal and outrun us besides."

"He'll make her do her own running after awhile."

"Is she good on the jump?" inquired Crockett.

"She runs very swiftly," said the lover, "and you may be sure that dog
will make her do her best."

"It strikes me that them varmints are tryin' to take prisoners, instead
of raisin' the ha'r of the settlers through these parts."

"That's it," was the reply, uttered on the run.

Such indeed seemed to be the case, when the past actions of the
Comanches were considered, for, it can be seen that more than once they
had it in their power to pick off the whites by deathly shot from the
wood, but had refrained, and resorted to strategy to secure them.

Hans Bungslager had been "operated" upon in this way, and had only
escaped through a providential gleam of prudence that flashed through
his brain at the right moment.

The trail followed by the Texan and Tennesseean, for a long distance,
went straight forward into the woods, as though aiming at no particular
point, but seeking to get as far away from pursuit as was possible.

They were still following hard after the abductor, when they crossed
the path leading to Brownston, and over which they had passed a few
hours before.

They paused an instant, looking to the right and left, but nothing was
to be seen, and the trail of the flying Indian was seen to cross the
path at right-angles.

"That is encouraging," exclaimed Sebastian.

"Why?" asked his companion.

"It looks as if he were going it alone, instead of hunting up his
companions."

"Don't be sartin of that. He ain't an Injin, if he don't know what
place his nose is p'intin' at, and he'll find some other scamps afore
long to help him."

Crockett proved right in this instance, for they had gone but a short
distance further, when they came in sight of the camp-fire. Their skill
in trail-hunting was not sufficient for them to make certain of the
time that had elapsed since the passing of the Comanche and his prize;
but they knew they could not be very far behind the scamp, and they
kept their eyes on the look-out that they did not run blindly into any
danger.

So they detected the faint curling smoke on the bank of a small stream
in time to prevent exposing themselves, and they made a careful
reconnoissance.

Four Comanche Indians were seated around a small fire, every one
smoking. The smell of cooking food was in the air, showing that they
had finished a good breakfast. Around them were scattered the contents
of several feather-beds, linen, calico and clothing, attesting very
plainly that they had "gone through" somebody's establishment in a most
effective manner.

Upon a heap of blankets sat Katrina Duncan, her face covered and her
head bent in despair. The Indians were eagerly discussing some matter,
and paid no attention to their helpless captive.

The Texan and Tennesseean withdrew a few paces to consult as to what
they should do. As there were five of their foes, it was hardly
practicable to make an attack upon them. From their concealment,
the whites could pick off two. The course of the other three in all
probability then would be to kill Katrina as quick as a flash, so as to
prevent the possibility of her rescue, and then to turn and attack the
two whites, with a very good prospect of finishing them off in the same
manner; for no living Indians can out-dodge, out-shoot or out-wit, or
out-fight these same Comanches of the South-west. With an odd man, they
would be certain to get into the rear of the whites, and when that was
done, it would be a long and last good-by to them.

"I don't see the bear," remarked Carsfield; "he may have thrown off the
skin, but I was unable to see it upon the ground."

"He's gone back, thinkin' we're at the rocks, to try and fool us."

Carsfield was strongly inclined to believe this.

"Where is Bungslager?"

"That is hard to tell," said Crockett; "we can think only of _her_ at
present."

The Texan turned suddenly upon his companion.

"See here, you have a bear-skin with you; isn't it possible for you to
play the bear too?"

Colonel Crockett took at once.

"I'll do it."

And straightway he began arraying himself in the costume of the animal.
He succeeded in making quite a resemblance, but when it was finished
both saw that the thing could not be done during daylight.

The only way by which they could hope to succeed was by Crockett
actually _taking the place of_ the Comanche who had been playing
the part of bear. Any critical scrutiny of the counterfeit by the
Indians would be certain to result in their detection of the trick.
If they could be made to believe that Crockett was their own comrade
frolicking about the camp, they would not be apt to bestow much
attention upon him. Still, as it was certain that the trick would be
discovered sooner or later, it was all-important that they should have
the darkness of night in which to work.

Accordingly the two withdrew to a safe distance, and the Texan went on
a little foraging expedition of his own, managing to secure enough food
for present purposes.

One or two of the Comanches was constantly going and coming, and they
kept the Indians under surveillance. Katrina was furnished with food,
but the camp was not broken and it was evident they intended to spend
the night where they were.

Late in the afternoon the "Comanche Bear" walked into camp, carrying
his hide thrown over his shoulder. He remained for an hour or two and
then departed, and, as it was now fully dark, Crockett prepared to
venture upon his dangerous experiment.

Young Carsfield approached as near the camp as prudent, and then
Crockett went sidling and galloping toward it, approaching gradually,
and yet concealing his identity as much as possible.

When he came within the circle of light, all five of the Indians looked
at him, and then paid no further heed, evidently believing it to be
their comrade, practicing to improve himself.

Nearer and nearer he approached the spot where Katrina was sitting, she
looking at him with a look of terror, as if uncertain whether he was
watching her or not. This was what Crockett wished, and he managed,
unseen by the Indians, to give her a sign which put her on her guard.

One of the Comanches looked suspiciously at him, but he advanced until
he was within a few feet of Katrina, when he called out to her in a
husky whisper:

"_Now run, right by me!_"

Having no thought of any such thing, her captors had not bound her,
and the girl darted off like a deer, leaping directly by Crockett, who
immediately followed hard after her.

It looked as if she had started in affright at the approach of the
bear, and all ought to have gone well, had not the genuine Comanche
bear, at this critical moment, put in an appearance.

This exposed the whole thing, and in an instant the Indians were on
their feet, in full pursuit, with their tricky companion at their head.

But Katrina had gained a good start, and had scarcely entered the real
gloom of the wood when her lover was beside her, holding her hand, and
they fled with all the speed at their command.

A few sharp turns, and they got beyond all danger; but the Comanche who
had played the part of bruin, followed so hard after Crockett that he
could not elude him.

"_Wal, if I must, I must!_" muttered the Tennesseean, drawing his
fearful Bowie and turning upon the red-skin.

The contest was over in a second almost. As the Indian sunk before the
fearful knife, Crockett was just in time to turn and elude the others,
who were coming up with much rapidity.

He had a hard time of it, and but for the shelter of the wood, would
not have succeeded in getting away; but he soon ceased from his great
exertions, and after an hour's cautious signaling managed to rejoin the
lovers, remarking, as he related his experience:

"Somehow or other I sorter feel this is the last b'ar-hunt I'll ever
take a hand in!"

They endeavored to laugh at his depression, and he purposely changed
the conversation, as he wished to cast no gloom over their happiness.

It was now deemed best to approach as near Brownston as possible, so
as to be ready to enter the village, if it could be done, early in the
morning.

They accordingly resumed their cautious way through the woods, but had
not gone far when they heard approaching footsteps.

The whites instantly halted, and the two men grasped their rifles,
ready for friend or foe.

"Doonder and blitzen! I's been valkin' ever sin' to-morrow mornin', and
I ain't so fur off te village as I would be yesterday ef I had started
next week!"

It was Hans, and the next minute all three were around him, grasping
his hands, Katrina weeping and embracing him, and all demanding what it
meant.

He explained, in his characteristic way, what had happened to him since
his separation, and adding that he was nearly famished with hunger; but
as there was no means of relieving him, the journey was continued until
they were in sight of the gleaming lights of the settlement.

As a careful reconnoissance failed to discover any thing of the
Comanches, they moved on and entered Brownston, where they learned that
the marauding Indians had taken their departure during the afternoon,
and the memorable raid was ended.

       *       *       *       *       *

A few days later, Crockett and his friends, who were awaiting his
return in the village, started for the Alamo, where, as it is well
known, this extraordinary man was inhumanly killed, with the remnant of
the garrison who had surrendered to the perfidious Santa Anna.

       *       *       *       *       *

The little cottage at Brownston became the home of Katrina Duncan when
she married the gallant Sebastian Carsfield, after the independence of
Texas was acknowledged by Mexico.

Hans Bungslager had a comfortable little sum stowed away where no
Comanches could lay their hands upon it, and with this he rebuilt his
cabin, bought a new cow, and he and his frow spent many days together
upon the same ground that had been the witness of so many fearful
scenes in their history.


THE END.



DIME POCKET NOVELS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.


   =1--Hawkeye Harry.= By Oll Coomes.
   =2--Dead Shot.= By Albert W. Aiken.
   =3--The Boy Miners.= By Edward S. Ellis.
   =4--Blue Dick.= By Capt. Mayne Reid.
   =5--Nat Wolfe.= By Mrs. M. V. Victor.
   =6--The White Tracker.= By Edward S. Ellis.
   =7--The Outlaw's Wife.= By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
   =8--The Tall Trapper.= By Albert W. Aiken.
   =9--Lightning Jo.= By Capt. Adams.
  =10--The Island Pirate.= By Capt. Mayne Reid.
  =11--The Boy Ranger.= By Oll Coomes.
  =12--Bess, the Trapper.= By E. S. Ellis.
  =13--The French Spy.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =14--Long Shot.= By Capt. Comstock.
  =15--The Gunmaker.= By James L. Bowen.
  =16--Red Hand.= By A. G. Piper.
  =17--Ben, the Trapper.= By Lewis W. Carson.
  =18--Wild Raven.= By Oll Coomes.
  =19--The Specter Chief.= By Seelin Robins.
  =20--The B'ar-Killer.= By Capt. Comstock.
  =21--Wild Nat.= By Wm. R. Eyster.
  =22--Indian Jo.= By Lewis W. Carson.
  =23--Old Kent, the Ranger.= By Edward S. Ellis.
  =24--The One-Eyed Trapper.= By Capt. Comstock.
  =25--Godbold, the Spy.= By N. C. Iron.
  =26--The Black Ship.= By John S. Warner.
  =27--Single Eye.= By Warren St. John.
  =28--Indian Jim.= By Edward S. Ellis.
  =29--The Scout.= By Warren St. John.
  =30--Eagle Eye.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =31--The Mystic Canoe.= By Edward S. Ellis.
  =32--The Golden Harpoon.= By R. Starbuck.
  =33--The Scalp King.= By Lieut. Ned Hunter.
  =34--Old Lute.= By E. W. Archer.
  =35--Rainbolt, Ranger.= By Oll Coomes.
  =36--The Boy Pioneer.= By Edward S. Ellis.
  =37--Carson, the Guide.= By J. H. Randolph.
  =38--The Heart Eater.= By Harry Hazard.
  =39--Wetzel, the Scout.= By Boynton Belknap.
  =40--The Huge Hunter.= By Ed. S. Ellis.
  =41--Wild Nat, the Trapper.= By Paul Prescott.
  =42--Lynx-cap.= By Paul Bibbs.
  =43--The White Outlaw.= By Harry Hazard.
  =44--The Dog Trailer.= By Frederick Dewey.
  =45--The Elk King.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
  =46--Adrian, the Pilot.= By Col. P. Ingraham.
  =47--The Man-hunter.= By Maro O. Rolfe.
  =48--The Phantom Tracker.= By F. Dewey.
  =49--Moccasin Bill.= By Paul Bibbs.
  =50--The Wolf Queen.= By Charles Howard.
  =51--Tom Hawk, the Trailer.=
  =52--The Mad Chief.= By Chas. Howard.
  =53--The Black Wolf.= By Edwin E. Ewing.
  =54--Arkansas Jack.= By Harry Hazard.
  =55--Blackbeard.= By Paul Bibbs.
  =56--The River Rifles.= By Billex Muller.
  =57--Hunter Ham.= By J. Edgar Iliff.
  =58--Cloudwood.= By J. M. Merrill.
  =59--The Texas Hawks.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =60--Merciless Mat.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
  =61--Mad Anthony's Scouts.= By E. Rodman.
  =62--The Luckless Trapper.= By Wm. R. Eyster.
  =63--The Florida Scout.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =64--The Island Trapper.= By Chas. Howard.
  =65--Wolf-Cap.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
  =66--Rattling Dick.= By Harry Hazard.
  =67--Sharp-Eye.= By Major Max Martine.
  =68--Iron-Hand.= By Frederick Forest.
  =69--The Yellow Hunter.= By Chas. Howard.
  =70--The Phantom Rider.= By Maro O. Rolfe.
  =71--Delaware Tom.= By Harry Hazard.
  =72--Silver Rifle.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
  =73--The Skeleton Scout.= Maj. L. W. Carson.
  =74--Little Rifle.= By Capt. "Bruin" Adams.
  =75--The Wood Witch.= By Edwin Emerson.
  =76--Old Ruff, the Trapper.= By "Bruin" Adams.
  =77--The Scarlet Shoulders.= By Harry Hazard.
  =78--The Border Rifleman.= By L. W. Carson.
  =79--Outlaw Jack.= By Harry Hazard.
  =80--Tiger-Tail, the Seminole.= By R. Ringwood.
  =81--Death-Dealer.= By Arthur L. Meserve.
  =82--Kenton, the Ranger.= By Chas. Howard.
  =83--The Specter Horseman.= By Frank Dewey.
  =84--The Three Trappers.= By Seelin Robbins.
  =85--Kaleolah.= By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N.
  =86--The Hunter Hercules.= By Harry St. George.
  =87--Phil Hunter.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
  =88--The Indian Scout.= By Harry Hazard.
  =89--The Girl Avenger.= By Chas. Howard.
  =90--The Red Hermitess.= By Paul Bibbs.
  =91--Star-Face, the Slayer.=
  =92--The Antelope Boy.= By Geo. L. Aiken.
  =93--The Phantom Hunter.= By E. Emerson.
  =94--Tom Pintle, the Pilot.= By M. Klapp.
  =95--The Red Wizard.= By Ned Hunter.
  =96--The Rival Trappers.= By L. W. Carson.
  =97--The Squaw Spy.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
  =98--Dusky Dick.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =99--Colonel Crockett.= By Chas. E. Lasalle.
  =100--Old Bear Paw.= By Major Max Martine.
  =101--Redlaw.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =102--Wild Rube.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =103--The Indian Hunters.= By J. L. Bowen.
  =104--Scarred Eagle.= By Andrew Dearborn.
  =105--Nick Doyle.= By P. Hamilton Myers.
  =106--The Indian Spy.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =107--Job Dean.= By Ingoldsby North.
  =108--The Wood King.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =109--The Scalped Hunter.= By Harry Hazard.
  =110--Nick, the Scout.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =111--The Texas Tiger.= By Edward Willett.
  =112--The Crossed Knives.= By Hamilton.
  =113--Tiger-Heart=, the Tracker. By Howard.
  =114--The Masked Avenger.= By Ingraham.
  =115--The Pearl Pirates.= By Starbuck.
  =116--Black Panther.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =117--Abdiel, the Avenger.= By Ed. Willett.
  =118--Cato, the Creeper.= By Fred. Dewey.
  =119--Two-Handed Mat.= By Jos. E. Badger.
  =120--Mad Trail Hunter.= By Harry Hazard.
  =121--Black Nick.= By Frederick Whittaker.
  =122--Kit Bird.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =123--The Specter Riders.= By Geo. Gleason.
  =124--Giant Pete.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =125--The Girl Captain.= By Jos. E. Badger.
  =126--Yankee Eph.= By J. R. Worcester.
  =127--Silverspur.= By Edward Willett.
  =128--Squatter Dick.= By Jos. E. Badger.
  =129--The Child Spy.= By George Gleason.
  =130--Mink Coat.= By Jos. E. Badger.
  =131--Red Plume.= By J. Stanley Henderson.
  =132--Clyde, the Trailer.= By Maro O. Rolfe.
  =133--The Lost Cache.= By J. Stanley Henderson.
  =134--The Cannibal Chief.= Paul J. Prescott.
  =135--Karaibo.= By J. Stanley Henderson.
  =136--Scarlet Moccasin.= By Paul Bibbs.
  =137--Kidnapped.= By J. Stanley Henderson.
  =138--Maid of the Mountain.= By Hamilton.
  =139--The Scioto Scouts.= By Ed. Willett.
  =140--The Border Renegade.= By Badger.
  =141--The Mute Chief.= By C. D. Clark.
  =142--Boone, the Hunter.= By Whittaker.
  =143--Mountain Kate.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =144--The Red Scalper.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =145--The Lone Chief.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =146--The Silver Bugle.= Lieut. Col. Hazleton.
  =147--Chinga, the Cheyenne.= By E. S. Ellis.
  =148--The Tangled Trail.= By Major Martine.
  =149--The Unseen Hand.= By J. S. Henderson.
  =150--The Lone Indian.= By Capt. C. Howard.
  =151--The Branded Brave.= By Paul Bibbs.
  =152--Billy Bowlegs, The Seminole Chief.=
  =153--The Valley Scout.= By Seelin Robins.
  =154--Red Jacket.= By Paul Bibbs.
  =155--The Jungle Scout.= Ready
  =156--Cherokee Chief.= Ready
  =157--The Bandit Hermit.= Ready
  =158--The Patriot Scouts.= Ready
  =159--The Wood Rangers.=
  =160--The Red Foe.= Ready
  =161--The Beautiful Unknown.=
  =162--Canebrake Mose.= Ready
  =163--Hank, the Guide.= Ready
  =164--The Border Scout.= Ready Oct. 5th.


BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.

Transcriber's Note: Changes have been made where the transcriber
perceived there to be typographical errors.



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