"Say! You can't see thirty miles at night."

"I meant to say three leagues—-"

"Nor three leagues—-"

"One league then, gosh blame it!"

"That's better."

"Waal, we sighted her b'arin' down on us."

"And then?" asked Jack, smilingly.

Why, we let her git right up ter us, thinkin' she had a easy wictim. Then we turned on her to fire, an' blow her ter pieces. Wot wuz our horror ter find as our powder got so wet we couldn't use it. Bein' as ther guns wuz useless, wot did we do? Perpared ter board ther lubber. Up ter her we dashed. Over flew ther grapplin' irons.

"On her deck swarmed her crew. Down in her hold they chased ther pirates. But that wuz only a ruse on thar part. As soon's our crew went below, up came ther lubbers through ther hatch, an' fastened our marines down in ther hold. They wuz prisoners. I alone wuz lef aboard ther Wabash. Seein' 'em makin' a rush fer our deck I grabbed a ax an' cut ther grapplin's. We drifted apart afore they could board ther frigate. Seein' as all wuz lost onless I licked ther swabs, I manned ther guns an' gave 'em broadside ar ter broadside. I smashed thar ship ter pieces. She went down never ter rise again. Most o' her crew wuz killed. Them wot wuzn't swum on ther sea. Then I amused myself firin' shots at thar heads. I took 'em off as clean as a whistle every time I let 'em have it. In jest four minutes by ther clock they was all gone. Turnin' ter my messmates—-"

"Confined in the pirate's hold, they all went to the bottom with the ship," said Jack, quietly.

"I—oh—ouch!"

"The powder was so wet you couldn't use it. But in spite of this you did some remarkably good shooting, didn't you, Tim?"

"Wha'—wha—what d'yer mean?" feebly stammered the old sailor.

"Just what you said," laughed Jack.

"I must a fergot about sayin' that."

"Very likely. Will you acknowledge now that I've got you?"

"Ay, ay. There's no help for it."

"In a big lie?"

"But, my lad—-"

"Tell the truth once in your life!"

"Waal, I owns up," groaned Tim.

It was a severe hardship to do it.

But there was no help for him, he realized.

Jack burst into a hearty peal of laughter.

The sheriff and the Dutchman, inside the stage, had heard all that passed, and they fairly yelled over Tim's discomfiture.

"Nipped that time, Tim," laughed Timberlake.

"Shiminey Christmas, ditn'd he got it by der neck!" grinned Fritz.

"Tell as the rest of the yarn, Tim."

"Yah. Ve vos litsten," added Fritz.

"Awast yer lubbers!" growled the old fellow, sourly.

They might have chaffed him considerably more, but just then Jack interrupted them with the startled exclamation:

"Hark, boys!"

"Vos iss?" eagerly asked Fritz.

"Horses' hoofs coming!"

"Ay, ay, I hears 'em!" said Tim.

"There's a wagon, too," the sheriff added.

The sound was rapidly approaching along the road.

All listened intently, and soon distinguished the steady pounding of hoofs and the rumble of wheels.

A few moments later they caught view of two bright lamps on the vehicle, shining ahead, with a steady glow, through the falling rain drops.

"That looks like a stage," muttered Jack, "but we will know positively in a moment more."

CHAPTER XII. THE FIGHT IN THE CANYON.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Oh, Lor'! what's this?"

"Is that the Independence stage?"

"Yes. Don't shoot! I cave!"

"Ah! do not alarm yourselves; we are friends."

Jack turned on the search-light as he spoke and beheld four horses pulling an old fashioned yellow stage coach, on each side of which burned two lamps.

Upon the box sat an old jehu, Sandy Ellis by name, who had driven that vehicle for quarter of a century over that route.

He was a gray-whiskered old fellow, with a bony face and a long red nose, and his stage contained half a dozen people, who were excitedly discussing the stoppage and the meaning of that brilliant electric light.

"For the Lord's sake, boy, what's that you've got there—the sun?"

"Only an electric search-light," laughed Jack.

"But where's your team?"

"Don't need any for this electric stage."

"What's that—a sort of a trolley car?"

"Yes, without the overhead pole and wire."

"Thunderation! this beats everything! What do you want?"

"I wish to protect you from the James Boys."

"Say, now, is them varmints around?"

"Laying for this stage,"

"Wow!" gasped Sandy. "That's terrible, so it is!"

Jack gave all hands an account of what happened, and when he finished the stage passengers were in a cold sweat.

They wanted to turn right back.

But Jack wouldn't allow this.

"I ain't sure whether they're ahead or behind us," said he. "At any rate you can't turn back now."

"But they may kill us!" said a fat man in the stage.

"They're bound to rob as anyway," asserted a man with a valise filed with genuine diamond jewelry samples.

"That depends entirely upon all hands present," said Jack. "Are all of you armed?"

Every one but a woman in the stage assented, and Sandy pulled out a big navy revolver from his boot leg, and remarked:

"You can just gamble on it I am."

"Any of you afraid to fight, if it became necessary?"

"I'd rather not if I could avoid It," replied a thin fellow, with a hacking cough. "Fighting isn't my fort."

"Waal, I guess you'll pull a trigger if you saw a gang of masked bandits trying to bore a hole in your head."

"I fancy I would."

"That's settled then. Now you see my stage?"

"Yes, and a queer one she is!" commented Sandy.

"She is bullet proof. I propose that as she is safer than your ramshackle old wooden affair, all hands get inside of her, and let me carry you through."

"But what about my horses?" asked Sandy.

"Hitch them on to this vehicle. Throw those rubbers over my stage to hide her outline. You can also put your lamps on here and drive for us. That will draw the bandits from cover. My friends are all armed and ready to fire the moment they show their noses."

Every one but the lady liked the plan.

She, of course, was averse to fighting of any kind.

As there was no way out of their dilemma, and Jack's offer gave promise of protecting them from robbery and, perhaps, death, every-one got into the Terror.

The lamps and horses were transferred.

"You can leave the stage here," said Jack to Sandy.

"No one will molest it until you return for it to-morrow."

"Are you pretty sure about them there James Boys?"

"Decidedly, or I wouldn't have troubled myself to do this for you," replied Jack.

"Well, it would do no harm, even if we are disappointed about meeting them," said the old driver.

They had been obliged to tie the traces to the Terror, but there was no pull on them as Sandy had only to keep his horses trotting while Jack made the machine run itself.

Owing to the gloom of the night, the rubbers on the body of the Terror, the horses, lamps and driver any one would have imagined it was the regular old stage coach.

The people inside talked in low tones and every man aboard held his weapon ready for use.

Down pattered the rain drops with a monotonous sound, and the hoofs of the four horses splashed up the muddy water from the puddles in the road and beat on the hard ground with the regularity of clockwork.

They rattled along in this manner for quarter of an hour and ran from the regular road into a dark canyon.

Here the walls towered up hundreds of feet.

It was a very gloomy place.

"We must be pretty near the ledge road now, ain't we?" Jack asked.

"Yes; in five minutes this 'ere canyon will swing us out on it," replied Sandy. "That's where we're to look for them, ain't it?"

"Yes—if not sooner—-"

"Hark! D'you hear that?"

Jack listened intently.

The wind was howling over the crags.

All the trees and bushes were loudly rustling.

But it was not this that attracted the driver's attention.

Jack quickly caught the sound of pattering hoofs coming toward the vehicle from both sides.

Then a stentorian voice roared out:

"Halt!"

"What—me!" shouted Sandy.

"Yes—you!" came the reply.

And at the same moment Jesse James, mounted on his wonderful coal black steed, Siroc, dashed up beside the stage.

He was followed by his entire band.

Although he and the rest were masked, Jack knew his voice at once, and shrank back to conceal his features in the collar of his rubber coat, which was turned up around his neck.

In a moment the whole gang was about the Terror.

Sandy reined in his horses.

Then he growled:

"What do you want?"

"Throw up your hands!"

"No, I won't! You're thieves!"

"Obey, or I'll blow your head off."

This order was accompanied by the click of a pistol, and it was poked over toward the old driver's face.

Sandy dropped the reins, and Jack stopped the Terror.

This was no sooner done when two of the bandits cut the traces, and delivering the horses a blow, sent them galloping away.

"Oh, Lor'! There goes my nags!" roared Sandy.

"Shut up, and hand over your valuables."

"Ain't got none!" roared the old driver.

"Give me some light, boys, and we'll go through the passengers."

The next moment a dozen dark lanterns in the hands of the horsemen flashed out upon the Terror.

They recognized her instantly.

"Duped!" yelled Jesse. "It's the electric stage!"

"Fire, boys!" shouted Jack.

A deadly volley was poured from within the Terror, and many a yell of pain from the outlaws plainly told how effective some of them had been.

They dashed their lanterns to the ground and galloped off.

But that did no good.

Jack turned on the search-light.

Its broad glare brightly lit up the canyon, and they saw the bandits galloping ahead of them.

"Give it to them again!" cried Jack.

The inmates of the Terror let drive a second volley.

Crack, bang!

Crack, bang!

Crack, bang!

Shot after shot pealed out.

Jesse James never was more furious.

He yelled at his men, and then screamed:

"Fire back! Obey, or I'll fire at you yourselves!"

"By thunder, this was a surprise!" groaned Frank.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang! went the shots fired by the gang.

A storm of bullets flew back at the stage.

Poor old Sandy Ellis suffered death for his temerity.

A bullet struck him in the breast, and he uttered a groan and fell to the ground, never to rise again.

"They've killed Sandy!" cried Jack.

His words aroused the rage of the inmates of the Terror.

"B'ar down on ther pirates!" gasped Tim.

Jack sent the machine racing after the bandits.

There was one of the masked riders directly in front of the Terror, and the villain turned in his saddle, aimed a revolver point-blank at Jack, and was just upon the point of firing when the ram struck his horse.

It toppled the bandit from the animal's back, his pistol was discharged, the ball flew up in the air, and the horse was impaled and killed.

As the Terror pushed ahead, the two front wheels ran over the bandit's neck, almost putting an end to him.

Back recoiled the stage, the ram was withdrawn from the horse, and then she dashed ahead again in hot pursuit of the gang who all rode like fury now, to escape.

As they plunged ahead, the inmates of the stage kept up a pitiless fusillade of shots against the flying outlaws.

CHAPTER XIII. THE STRANDED COUNTRYMAN.

"We can't run any further!"

"Gee whiz, lad, then ther bandits'll escape!"

"I can't help that, Tim; there's something the matter."

The Terror had scarcely emerged from the canyon, when the lights suddenly went out, the machinery ceased to work, and the electric stage came to an abrupt pause.

All the bandits had been seen bunched far ahead, going down the slope at a breakneck pace.

When the light went out they vanished.

That was the last our friends saw of them that night, and every one began to bombard Jack with questions.

"What's the matter?"

"Can't you go ahead?"

"Do you want them to escape?"

"What are you stopping for?"

These and similar questions assailed the inventor.

He almost lost patience with them, as he cried:

The machinery for some reason has broken down.

"Vat vos pusted—dot trifin' rod!" asked Fritz.

"I don't know yet, but I'll find out."

"Here," said Timberlake, "take one of the stage coach lanterns."

Jack alighted with Fritz, and they made a critical examination of the machinery situated on the outside of the Terror.

But they failed to find the cause of the mishap there.

Then they went inside to look.

Nor was anything broken here.

Jack was intensely puzzled.

"What does this mean anyway?" he muttered. "I can't find a solitary thing the matter with her."

"Dot peat me!" replied Fritz, scratching his head.

"With electrical machinery, which is one of the simplest things in the world, one ought to see at a glance any derangement," said Jack, "But I can't understand where the trouble is now."

"Let's look ofer it agin," suggested the Dutchman.

It was done.

The second examination was as fruitless as the first, and they were left as much in the dark as they had been before. Half an hour was thus lost.

Some of the stage passengers in the meantime went back into the canyon with a spade and the other lamp.

They found Sandy Ellis' body.

He was dead.

They buried him.

When they returned Jack said:

"I wonder if the dynamo spring can be broken?"

"See," suggested Fritz.

Jack opened the box.

One glance was enough.

"Well, if we haven't been fools!" he exclaimed.

"Vos iss now?" asked the Dutchman.

"The spring has only run down and needs winding."

Every one burst out laughing now that the threatened gravity of the situation resolved itself into a comedy of error.

Jack wound up the spring.

Everyone got aboard and the lights blazed up under Jack's management, the machinery began to work, and the Terror ran ahead again without any trouble.

The delay had given the bandits a chance to escape.

Upon reaching the nearest settlement Jack left the people there whom he had rescued, and the Terror continued on her way.

On the following morning the rain ceased.

Breakfast was partaken of and then Jack said:

"Although we have created some mischief in the James Boys ranks, we have not yet done anything to bring the two ringleaders to justice. Nor have I gained a cent of the money stolen from the Wrightstown Bank."

"I have warned you what a slippery cuss Jesse is." said Timberlake, "Now you have seen some samples of it."

"He certainly is a pretty shrewd fellow."

"But whar is we ter look fer him!" asked Tim.

"He has no regular haunt," replied the sheriff.

"Den ve only by plind luck must go?"

"I'm afraid so, Fritz," assented Timberlake. "However, since he has started upon his raids again, he won't stop now until he makes a big haul. Then he is liable to divide with the gang, disband for a while, and seek safety in flight to some other section of the country until his funds are exhausted."

"Like most criminals, though," said Jack, "I see that he has the same hankering after the place where most of his villainy is practiced."

"All outlaws have a series of habits exactly like, as far as my experience has taught me," said the sheriff.

"When I wuz in ther navy," began Tim, "I once—-"

Biff! came Fritz's fingers down on the back of his neck.

What he was going to say was choked off.

Then Fritz rushed him into the next room.

There he jammed the sailor and banged the door shut.

"Dot seddles him!" he chuckled.

As the door was locked they were spared the affliction of hearing another of Tim's awful yarns for the time being.

The Terror scoured the surrounding country for a week after that, but nothing was seen of the bandits.

It was then decided to run to Independence and try to get some information from the authorities there by means of which they could locate the gang.

According to this programme, the sheriff gave Tim the direction, and the old sailor steered the stage on her way.

It was then very late in the afternoon.

They followed a country road, and passing several wayfarers, the appearance of the Terror caused them the most intense astonishment.

A few miles along the road they caught sight of an old fellow in a wagon loaded with grain.

He looked like a farmer.

There was no horse hitched to the vehicle.

But the shafts were broken and to the stumps there yet clung the remains of a broken harness.

The old fellow was the picture of despair.

He sat on top of his load, a whip in his hand and a big, red bandana handkerchief in the other with which he was vigorously mopping his forehead.

Fritz was steering the Terror.

Observing the forlorn countryman he burst out laughing.

"Shiminey Christmas!" said he, "dot fellow vas look like as if he vas got left behint mit his horse!"

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked from inside.

"Dot wagon in der roat."

"Where?"

"Ahet."

Jack emerged.

He saw the wagon.

And he also noticed an old log house.

He stood embowered among some trees, rocks, and bushes some distance ahead on the left hand side of the road.

In a moment more the Terror reached the wagon, and halting beside it, the countryman glaring at it with a look of the most intense astonishment upon his face.

"For the lands sakes alive!" he gasped, "what's that thing?"

"A stage that runs by electric power," Jack replied.

"And what's the trouble with you, sir?"

"I've been having an awful time with Eliza."

"Eliza? Who is she?"

"My mule."

"Oh! It looks as if she had been cutting up tricks."

"You'd ought to have seen her; consarn her old hide—and you'd have pitied me. She's the blamedest stubborn critter I ever seen. Once she gets her back up and quits, there's no use trying to go no farther. Look at the way she left me."

"Pretty sad sight."

"I should say so. She took a sudden notion to stop right here, I coaxed and cajoled her, but she wouldn't budge. Then my dander riz, I spit on my hands and hit her a whang on the tail, and she raised up her heels and kicked out like a battering ram."

"How unfortunate for you."

"It made my blood bile. I then thumped blazes out of her. The more I soaked her the wuss she kicked, until finally she kicked herself out of the harness and ran sway."

"And left you here with your load?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you got far to go?"

"Only to yonder old log hut."

"That isn't far."

"No, not when you say it quick."

"I'll tow you over there with this machine."

"Will you? Oh, thank you! I was just going to ask you to do it!"

"Is that all?"

"Can you help me roll the wagon inside to protect the grain in case it rains before I can find Eliza again?"

"Certainly we will," laughed Jack.

They hitched a rope to the wagon, and the Terror hauled it over to the door of the old building.

As the Terror could not get the wagon through the door, Jack and his companions alighted; each one manned a wheel, and the farmer seized the shafts.

Ahead they rolled it toward the open door.

But scarcely had they got it started when a dozen men, with masks on their faces and pistols in their hands, rushed out of the building and surrounded the four friends.

"The James Boys!" gasped Jack, in startled tones.

CHAPTER XIV. INTO THE QUICKSAND.

It was evident to Jack that he and his friends had been the victims of a very shrewd game.

The fact was, that the James Boys had a rendezvous in the log cabin, and having held up the farmer who owned the wagon, they had stolen his money, his mule, and his clothing.

Seeing the Terror coming, Jesse concocted the scheme to trap our friends, rigged one of the gang in the farmer's clothes, and the game was played according to the bandit king's orders.

It looked as if it was going to be a success, too.

None of the Terror's crew were armed.

And the outlaws had them covered with their weapons.

"Yield!" roared Jesse.

"We're tricked!" gasped Jack.

"Hands up, or die!"

"Don't fire! We submit!"

There was no alternative.

So the four raised their hands.

"Bind them!" ordered the outlaw chief.

His men carried out this order with alacrity.

In a few moments more all were rendered helpless.

A grim look of intense satisfaction swept over the dark bearded face of Jesse James as his four enemies lay upon the ground at his feet.

He intently regarded them a moment and then hissed:

"At last I've got you, Jack Wright!"

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" coolly asked the inventor.

"Put you out of my way as quick as possible."

"Very well; proceed. You have an excellent chance now."

"I've got your fate settled. And yours, too, Timberlake."

"If our positions were reversed," bitterly said the sheriff, "I would not lose a moment about blowing your brains out!"

"I have no doubt of that," Jesse answered, with a dark scowl. "And I'll follow your good advice. Prepare to die."

He drew his pistol from his belt and aimed it at Timberlake.

A tremor passed over the plucky fellow and he turned pale, for he knew he was face to face with death; but his courage did not forsake him and he quietly remarked:

"I'm ready to go. Fire!"

Before Jesse could do so. Frank sprang between him and his victim.

"Fool!" he hissed, warningly. "Do you want to throw your neck in the halter by doing this with all hands looking at you?

"Get out of my way!" savagely replied Jesse.

Although Frank was the eldest, and was accustomed to obeying his more determined brother, he did not do so in this instance.

"If you don't stop," he exclaimed, in angry, excited tones, "I'll hit you."

A look of surprise mantled Jesse's face.

He was not accustomed to threats and disobedience from Frank.

It therefore gave him a most emphatic shock.

"Are you getting crazy?" he asked.

"No—but you must be. Think of what you are doing."

"The men have seen me bring down my man many a time."

"Very true. But that was in a fight. Did they ever see you commit a cool, deliberate murder?"

This version startled Jesse.

He returned the pistol to his belt.

"You are right, Frank," said he, reluctantly. "I'll have to swallow my rage and hang or shoot these prisoners in accordance with the law of civilized communities."

There was a bitter tinge of sarcasm in his tones as he said this, and turning abruptly to the men he said, brusquely:

"Carry them into the hut."

Timberlake felt relieved.

So did Jack and the rest.

If Frank had not interfered the sheriff would have been killed, for they saw a lurking demon in the glare of Jesse's eyes when he was menacing Timberlake.

He certainly, meant to carry out his mad intention.

The prisoners were carried into the hut.

They saw the floor littered with saddles and bridles, blankets, cooking utensils and other objects of use to the bandits.

As Jack leaned against the wall opposite the open door he saw the bandits go up to the electric stage and try to get in.

The doors were secured with spring locks.

As Jesse tried to open one he was startled to hear a gruff voice inside exclaim:

"Stand back there or I'll drop a lighted match into a powder keg!"

It was the parrot.

He had once heard that sentence uttered.

Now he used it at random, never knowing what it signified.

But it was one of the luckiest expressions he ever made, for it startled the bandits and they rushed away in alarm.

"There are more people in the stage!" exclaimed Jesse, who was deceived by Bismarck's voice, as he knew absolutely nothing about the existence of the bird.

"But you counted only four in the crew," said Jim Cummins.

"I know it. They may have picked up others though."

"That's so."

"Give them a shot."

There were five men with Jesse.

All had retreated from the stage.

They now opened fire upon it.

Bang—bang!

Crack—crack!

Bang—bang—bang!

No shots were returned.

This amazed them.

But they heard Bismarck yell:

"Go it, you chumps—go it."

"Whoever that is howling," growled Jesse, "has got a nerve! I suppose he won't do anything until we get around the stage. Then he'll try to blow us up."

"Don't go near the blamed thing then," said Wood Hite.

"There's nothing in it for us, but I'd like to blow the infernal thing to pieces, so it can't do us any more damage."

"Oh, we can do that as soon as we get more dynamite."

"That's so. The party who is inside will hang around here in hopes of rescuing their pals, and we'll get a chance later."

None of them dared go too near the stage.

Nor was it of any use to fire at the Terror.

Bullets made no impression upon it.

Jesse understood this very well.

He, therefore, retreated to the interior of the hut with his men.

Jack kept his eyes and ears wide open, and soon saw the gang follow a motion of Jesse, and group themselves in one corner of the hut, and hold a whispered, conversation.

The inventor did not hear a word they uttered.

But he saw by their actions that they were scheming some mischief against them, and the result was soon manifested.

Jesse left the crowd and approached the prisoners.

"We've settled your fate!" he announced abruptly.

"Indeed," replied Jack. "What new villainy is brewing?"

"That you will find out in a few minutes. You wounded me and I know you are authorized to hunt me down, break up the gang and put us in jail. Consequently I am going to have revenge. In quarter of an hour you will be dead and buried."

"I doubt it," quietly answered Jack. "And as for your debt of vengeance, let me recall to your mind that it was you who aroused the enmity between us. You began it by robbing or rather swindling the Wrightstown Bank out of $5,000."

"Oh, yes," grinned the bandit, pulling a big roll of bills out of his pocket. "This is the money only a couple of hundred of it gone. That was quite a clever game."

"It did not hit me as hard as it might," said Jack. "The bank loses the money of course, but as I am the president of it, and a large stockholder, fully half the amount comes out of my pocket. I'll get that money away from you now."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"This way."

And up jumped Jack.

He had got Fritz to loosen his bonds with his teeth.

Once free from the wrist lashings, he liberated his ankles.

The bandit recoiled with a startled yell, and the rest arose.

Jack sprung forward, snatched the roll of bills from Jesse's hand, shoved it in his pocket and seized the outlaw.

The young inventor was a veritable Hercules in strength.

As the gang made a rush for him, he suddenly lifted Jesse James up in the air and hurled him at the crowd.

The bandit's body struck Bob Ford and Cole Younger, knocked them back against the crowd, and ere they all recovered from their astonishment, Jack sprang out the door and rushed to the stage.

Several pistol shots were fired after him, but as the outlaws were excited, they aimed poorly and missed their mark.

Reaching the Terror, Jack jumped aboard, and she sped away.

As soon as the outlaws recovered, and saw him escaping, Jesse yelled:

"Grab the rest, and hustle them out before they escape too!"

The gang pounced on Tim, Fritz and Timberlake.

Carrying them out of the hut by a back door, they passed through the woods until they came to a glen.

In the middle of it was a small, shallow lake, covering a bed of quicksand, and they paused upon the shore.

"Throw them in!" ordered Jesse.

His men complied.

As the prisoners were bound, they could not help themselves.

One after another they were tossed into the treacherous lake.

No sooner were their bodies upon the sand when they began to slowly sink into it.

The bandits gathered along the shore to watch their unlucky victims perish in the quicksand bed.

CHAPTER XV. RESCUED FROM DEATH.

Having gained his freedom, Jack had raced away with the Terror in order to keep out of danger until he was prepared to defend himself.

He did not stop the stage until she was at a considerable distance from the rendezvous of the bandits.

Then he critically examined her.

She proved to be in first-class order.

Jack then went inside and put on a suit of armor.

Thrusting two pistols in his belt, he procured a small basket, and opening a box, he withdrew from it a dozen steel balls to each of which a small metal handle was attached.

These he put very carefully into the basket.

They were hand grenades.

Loaded with the same terrible explosive compound that he put in the bullets he used, they possessed ten times the power that ordinary dynamite shells have.

Armed with these awful missiles, he was ready to go back and single-handed engage in a fight with the whole gang.

Jack's courage and perseverance were of a high order.

He deposited the basket in a metal, bullet-proof box on the front platform, and seating himself, seized the wheel.

"I've got explosives enough here to blow the whole crew to fragments," he muttered. "And what is more, I'll do it too, in order to wrest my friends from their clutches!"

Back along the road rolled the Terror.

The moon now rose in the sky.

In a few minutes Jack neared the hut.

Stopping the electric stage within fifty yards of it, he picked up one or the bombs and shouted:

"Jesse James, come out here, or I'll blow that hut up!"

Receiving no reply, Jack hurled the grenade.

It struck an end of the hut.

A horrible glare of light flashed out.

It was followed by a report like thunder.

Half of the hut was blown to fragments, and the ground shook.

Jack saw at a glance that the hut was deserted.

He heard the distant voices of men among the trees, and realizing that the bandits had gone into the woods, he drove the stage along a road that wound among the trees.

In a few moments he neared the quicksand lake.

The bandits saw him coming, and aiming their rifles at the gallant young inventor they fired at him.

A storm of bullets struck Jack.

They did not pierce his armor, however.

He stooped over and picked up one of the grenades.

As soon as he arrived close enough to the outlaws, he hurled the bomb at them, and it landed in their midst.

The explosion was fearful.

Three of the villains were blown to pieces, several were knocked down, the rest were half deafened, and an uproar of hoarse yells of pain escaped those who were struck by the flying particles of metal from the exploded shell.

Seeing the Terror coming on toward them rapidily, the bandits who survived rushed away into the woods.

They were filled with horror and alarm.

Such weapons as Jack Wright wielded were beyond their powers of endurance, and they set him down for a fiend.

Once protected by the trees, they shot back at him.

Bang!

Crack!

Boom!

Whiz! came the shots.

Jack picked up another bomb, and let it fly.

It landed among the trees, and bursting there, spilt and tore them to pieces, and sent the outlaws flying again.

At this moment Jack was startled by a wild yell of:

"Help! Save me!"

He looked around to see where the sound came from, and beheld his three friends buried to their necks in the quicksand.

"Good heavens!" he gasped, as he realized what the outlaws had been doing to them.

"They've tried to murder the boys."

He saw that they were in a bed of quicksand.

Assured that he would not have any immediate trouble from the outlaws, Jack went into the stage and got a hatchet.

He then alighted.

His friends were twenty feet from the bank.

They laid pretty close together, but were out of his reach.

Rushing in among the shrubbery. Jack rapidly cut down a number of cedar trees, and swiftly carried them to the quicksand.

With these he built a rude bridge out to his friends.

Even the trees began to sink in the sand as he walked out on them, but he reached Tim, and seizing him by the arm, he exerted all his enormous strength, and succeeded in pulling him up.

Jack cut his bonds.

"Don't waste a moment," he gasped, "but go ashore and cut some more of the cedars to pile on these."

"Ay, ay," replied Tim, and he hastened away.

Timberlake was next nearest.

"Are you fastened?" Jack asked him.

"Yes; bound hand and foot."

"I'll get you up in a moment."

"Shack," groaned Fritz. "Hurry ub."

His mouth was even with the water, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he prevented himself swallowing it.

Tim came back and flung some cedars to Jack.

With these he built his bridge out further.

Giving the sheriff a pull that raised him a foot, Jack left him and made his way to Fritz.

He reached the Dutchman just in time to save him.

It almost pulled the fat fellow's joints apart when the inventor hauled him up, but once he was free of his bonds and upon the cedars he aided Jack to pull the sheriff up and set him free.

They all got their feet stuck in the sand as they fought and struggled to reach firm land, for the trees were now sunk but they finally managed to get ashore.

Here they found Tim bombarding the woods.

All the bandits had seen what was happening, and now opened fire upon them again.

The old sailor procured two bombs.

He let thus drive in the direction the shots came from, and they ripped the woods and blew up rocks and trees, and created the most terrific devastation.

That silenced the outlaws.

None of them were killed, but many were wounded, and they now lost no time at making their escape.

Jack and his companions hastened back aboard the Terror, and sent her flying back to the road.

There they waited for the appearance of some of the gang; but they waited in vain.

All had escaped in the other direction.

When assured of this, the four adventurers went inside to change their clothing, and rest themselves.

Jack's companions told him how they happened to be found sinking in the bed of quicksand.

"They meant to kill you!" he exclaimed.

"Ay, ay, lad! But you balked 'em!" chuckled Tim.

"And I've get most of the stolen money back," laughed Jack, as he held up the wad of bank notes he took from Jesse James.

"Donner und blitzen! Vot a surbrised barty dot vos fer der pandits," roared Fritz. "Inshtid of Yesse Yames hookin' money from odder beoples, it must haf peen shtrange fer him ter haf money hooked from him alretty."

"Yes—a very novel experience for the thief," said the sheriff, dryly. "I congratulate you, Mr. Wright, for doing something to that villain that nobody else ever did. It is a most remarkable thing for Jesse James to be robbed."

"I reckerlect when I wuz in ther navy," said Tim, "I once had a experience like that. We went out ter hunt fer a fillibuster's ship when wot wuz our surprise ter have ther lubber tackle us. Gee whiz! wuzn't I mad! I ups an' loads one o'ther guns ter fire at him when he slipped aroun' asturn us. As we couldn't train no gun ter b'ar on him in that ther sitiwation wot should I do but git a coil o' rope, mount ther riggin' an' lasso his capstan, It wuz a mighty good throw too. Waal, sir, we heaved an' hauled on that ere rope, dragging ther lubber over to our ship until we got him alongside—-"

"And none of them attempted to cut your lasso from their capstan?" asked Jack. "They must have wanted to get captured."

"It's werry funny," said Tim, "but none o' them seemed ter think o' doin' that. Waal, sir, as soon as we hauled 'em alongside we had a broadside ready ter pour inter that craft ter blow her ter pieces, an' ther gunners wuz at ther posts ready ter fire. But afore we could carry out this plan ther willians boarded us an' captured us an' our ship."

"It can't be possible?"

"But it wuz, my lad."

"How did you escape?"

"One night I got free an' rushed into the powder magazine with a lit pipe in my mouth, an' them arter me."

"If you were a prisoner where did you got the lit pipe?"

"Oh, I had it," replied Tim. "Ter continer, seein' my enemies all rushin' arter me, I took ther pipe an' yelled fer 'em ter go back or I'd drop ther burnin' baccy inter ther powder. They refused—-"

"And you dropped the light into the powder?"

"No. Ther light had gone out," grinned Tim. "It skeered 'em so though, that when they recovered they bolted out, an' fearin' ter git blowed up, they all jumped overboard an' was drowned. I released my messmates, an' we took ther ship."

"Tim, is that a lie, or a fabrication?"

"A fabrication, o' course," indignantly and innocently answered the old salt. "D'yer s'pose Tim Topstay would tell a lie?"

CHAPTER XVI. THE CAPTURE OF WOOD HITE.

On the second day after the aforegoing events occurred Fritz happened to glance into the water tank of the Terror and noticed that their supply of liquid was running low.

This was very unpleasant, as they were then nowhere near any spring or stream, and he walked into the front room where Jack sat talking to Timberlake, and said:

"Dere don't vos more as enough water to last bis to-night."

"That's too bad. Can't we get a supply near here?" said Jack.

"Not that I am aware of," answered the sheriff. "But, about three miles along the road there is a farm-house, and we can get all we want from the countryman's cistern."

"Suppose we go there and try," suggested Jack.

"Vell, I dell Dim," said the Dutchman.

He then spoke to the old sailor who was steering, and Tim sent the stage in the direction indicated.

In a short time they came in view of the farm-house.

This had scarcely been done when Tim caught sight of a man with his head swathed in bandages rush out of the house to the stable from whence he soon emerged on horseback.

He gave one glance back at the stage and then, plunging spurs into his steed's flanks, he dashed away.

Off he went across the rolling country at a furious pace, his peculiar action at once arresting Tim's attention.

The old sailor only had one eye, but it was a good one, for no sooner had he seen the fugitive's face when he recognized him as that mercenary member of the James Boys' gang called Wood Hite, and noted as a desperate ruffian.

"Gee whiz!" gasped Tim.

"What's the matter?" asked Jack.

"Thar goes Wood Hite!"

"Is that so?"

"Ay, an' his head is all bandaged!"

"He must have been wounded."

"Sartin, and he wuz in thar farm-house tryin' ter git well."

"He must have seen us coming and got scared out."

"Jist my opinion, Jack."

The young inventor came out on the front platform.

He gazed long and earnestly at the flying rider and then said:

"You have made no mistake—that's Hite."

"This ere ole eye o' mine are a regler telescope."

"Chase the villain, Tim!"

"You bet I will."

And pulling the dynamo lever over as far as it would go, the old sailor spun the wheel around, turning the stage from the high road, and sent her flying after the horseman.

"If he thinks we can't run on anything but hard ground," said Jack, grimly, "he will soon learn his error."

"That ere's a mighty good nag he's a-ridin'."

"Yes—all the James Boys' gang are well mounted."

"Ain't Hite ther lubber wots allers grubbin' fer money?"

"Yes, he, the most grasping one of the gang."

"D'yer reckon as thar's any more o' his messmates in ther farm-house?"

"No, I believe not. If there had been, they would have come out with him," replied Jack, as they flew past the old house.

"S'posen we runs him down?"

"I'll make him admit where the rest of the gang is."

"Ay, now, that's a blamed good plan."

The bandit had taken refuge in the house, as he had suffered a very bad wound, but having seen from one of the upper bed rooms that the stage was coming, he took alarm and fled as has been recorded.

By so doing, he greatly amazed the good people with whom he had been stopping, as they knew nothing of his real character in consequence of a lie he told them.

The man was wild with fear.

He spurred and lashed his horse furiously.

And he kept his lead with remarkable speed.

The Terror rattled and bumped over the rougher grass, but found it pretty good going anyway, as the open country of Missouri is generally fairly level.

Tim watched the contest with interest.

He could not help admiring the bandit's good riding.

But he also saw that the stage slowly but surely began to gain.

"Fer a short dash, that was prutty good!" he remarked.

"In a long race no animal on earth could run against us though," replied Jack smiling.

"See how we're overhaulin' ther lubber!"

"In a few minutes well reach him, Tim, and—-"

Bang!

The fugitive fired back.

Zing! came the bullet.

It grazed Jack's head.

One inch nearer and it would have killed him!

"Hit yer?" asked Tim, in alarm.

"No, just missed," coolly replied the inventor.

"Gee! it hummed like a bumble bee!"

"Yes, it was a dangerous shot."

"Shall I heave him one, an' drop him?"

"No! I want to take him alive."

On they continued to go until at last the Terror was very close to the bandit.

"There is nothing can save you from capture now!" Jack shouted at him. "Surrender, you dog!"

"I'm blowed if I will!" roared Wood Hite.

He made one last supreme effort to forge ahead, but finding he could not do it, he leveled his revolver at Tim.

Jack had a pistol in hand.

He aimed, and fired it at Hite's weapon.

Simultaneous with the explosion of the bullet there came a wild howl from the bandit, and his pistol flew up in the air, ruined beyond repair.

"I'm struck!" he groaned.

"Will you quit?" demanded Jack.

"Don't drop me and I will."

"All right! Dismount!"

The fugitive pulled in the panting and sweating horse, and Tim stopped the electric stage.

Down to the ground jumped the bandit, and raising his hands above his head he roared:

"Mind you now—no games, partner."

"What was you doing in that farm house?"

"Getting over the wounds you gave me."

"Where are the rest of the gang?"

"I don't know."

"Come, come! No lies!"

"I tell you I don't know."

"We'll see," said Jack, pulling out his watch and drawing a bead on the man. "It is now three minutes to four. At precisely four o'clock, unless you tell us where I can find the James Boys, I'll fire!"

"Say! don't do that!" cried the bandit, in alarm.

"That's the law."

"But I really don't—-"

"One minute."

"For Heaven's sake, let up!"

"You are wasting valuable time, Wood Hite."

"If I knew I'd tell you quick enough."

"Your time on earth is growing mighty short."

"Won't anything else satisfy you?"

"No. Two minutes!"

"Good Lord A'mighty!"

"Speak—quick!"

"It's as much as my life is worth!"

"Very well. Ten seconds more!"

The outlaw was as pale as death.

The bandages around his head added to the look of unutterable woe upon his haggard face.

He trembled like an aspen, and burst into a cold, clammy perspiration, and was breathing heavily.

Jack glanced up from his watch.

"Time's up!" he exclaimed.

"Mercy!"

"Speak, or perish!"

"Yes! yes! I'll tell."

"Well?"

"To-morrow at two o'clock they'll be in Husking Valley."

"What for?"

"To raid the town."

"Any particular place?"

"Yes—the bank."

"Good! We'll be there. What's the plan?"

"Jess did not mention it."

"That will do."

"Can I go now?"

"Oh, no; we want you."

"What for?"

"To go with us. I want to see if you lied. Come here!"

Wood Hite slouched up to the stage, cast a regretful glance at his horse which was browsing the grass, and Tim tied his hands behind his back.

He was then hustled into the stage, and Jack had a short conversation with Timberlake about the place where the alleged raid was to occur.

The town was a place remote from where they then were, and the sheriff directed Tim in which direction to go.

Meeting with another farm house, they procured some water and then sped away.

That night they arrived in the vicinity of Husking Valley, and Jack entered the town to reconnoiter the ground.

CHAPTER XVII. RAIDING THE BANK.

On the following afternoon there were a great many strangers in the town of Husking Valley, but the residents did not consider this very strange, as the County Fair was being held there.

These fairs were matters of great importance to the natives.

They always brought large crowds of strangers from the surrounding country, and created a rather lively scene.

Jack was lurking near the bank with Timberlake, and Tim and Fritz were aboard the Terror in easy hailing distance, yet completely concealed from view.

The inventor and his companion stood in a doorway close to the bank, intently watching the thronging natives.

"Here's another example of the James Boys' cunning," said Jack, finally breaking the silence.

"To what do you allude?" moodily asked the sheriff.

"Why, Jesse James timing his arrival here during the fair."

"In what way was that a sharp move?"

"To do this job he would need the gang, wouldn't he?"

"I think he would not venture it without them."

"And he must have known the fair was going on."

"Probably he did."

"Wouldn't the entrance of his gang to the town excite a great deal of comment and attention if there were no fair?"

"Naturally, as crowds in country towns are unusual."

"Well, I figure it that he knew the fair was in progress here, that he knew the crowd would cloak his entrance of his gang, and they would therefore excite no suspicion."

"That seems to be pretty likely."

"Would you know all the men if you saw them?"

"I believe so—at any rate, I would recognize the old members. He occasionally recruits new men. We have wiped out some of the newer element. I noticed that although some of the old bandits were wounded during our engagement with them, the ones who fell were mostly new men.

"That's the reason they fell perhaps. The older birds had experience enough to keep out of harm's way."

"Well, if any of them happen to go into that bank, you can rest assured that I'll recognize them."

"It's half-past two now, but they haven't materialized yet."

"Maybe Wood Hite was lying to save his life."

"No—I think not. His tones had a truthful ring."

Jack glanced across the street at the bank.

It was a a small brick building, with two iron-barred windows and a door flush with the street, through which he could see the entire interior.

There were half a dozen clerks busy inside behind a long desk, before which there was a wire netting that rose almost to the ceiling.

The first window nearest the door was that of the cashier, the next was that of the paying-teller, and the next the receiving-teller, after which followed the book-keepers and discount clerk.

All were busy at their various occupations, as it had been a rush day, in consequence of the large crowd.

Jack had seen every man, woman and child, who had gone in or come out since midday, and he had scanned every one who had passed by without detecting a bandit.

Yet his patience did not give out.

"Do you suppose our prisoner knows what method Jesse James will employ in his attempted raid?" he asked.

"No. He never tells his plans to the men, as a rule, until a very short time before they are carried out. Jesse James is very cautious and suspicious. He knows that the hand of every honest man is turned against him. He is even on the alert for danger. He is quick witted, deep, dark and cunning, and he wouldn't trust his own brother out of his sight. That probably accounts for the wonderful success he has always had at carrying out his daring plans, and escaping the consequence."

"The fellow is certainly a marvel in some ways."

"He inspires his men with fear of him. I have particularly noticed this of the Ford Boys. They seem to think that every time he looks at them he suspects them of treachery, and they seem to think that every time he draws a gun he is going to kill them. Most of the rest have the same feeling about Jesse. They all fear him, yet he has a strange marked influence over them. It seems to inspire the gang with a certain trust, respect, and blind obedience to his commands."

"Hello! what's that? See there?"

"What?" asked Timberlake in startled tones.

Jack pointed down the street.

A great cloud of dust was rising there.

People were scattering right and left, and as it drew nearer, Jack distinguished a huge coal black horse bestrode by a man who rode him furiously.

"What is it, Timberlake—a madman?"

"It looks like a horse running away."

"The man rides it as if he were part of the animal."

"Heavens, what speed! See—here he comes!"

Like wildfire the rider came thundering along.

In a few moments he was in plain sight.

"Some drunken countryman on the rampage!" muttered Jack.

"That fellow will kill somebody yet."

"When he goes by let us stroll over to the bank, and quietly warn the clerks of Jesse James' plot to put them on their guard. Then they will be ready for him."

"It's too late to do that now."

"Why so?"

"Because that rider is Jesse himself!"

Jack shot a keen glance at the man, and a startled cry escaped him, for the horse was certainly the famous Siroc and the rider the king of the bandits!

"What's his purpose, Timberlake?" gasped Jack.

"Perhaps he is pursued. See—he clutches two revolvers, and the wild villain is holding the bridle rein with his teeth.

"He's heading for the bank!"

"Come on!"

They rushed from their covert.

Jesse's quick eyes detected them instantly.

Raising a whistle to his lips, he blew a shrill blast.

It was his usual signal to the gang and they understood it, and mounted upon their horses, came galloping out of the by streets and other places where they had been concealed.

The whole armed crowd headed for the bank.

They thus cut off Jack and the sheriff.

To everybody's surprise, the moment Siroc arrived opposite the door of the bank, Jesse turned him and sent him galloping right into the building.

Pausing before the paying teller's window, Jesse thrust his two pistols through, causing the man to yell and recoil.

"Hand me every bundle of bills in that draw before you!" roared the bandit. "Quick, or I'll fire!"

"No—no—no!" gasped the startled man.

"I'll make you!"

And—bang! went his pistol.

The bullet grazed the clerk's head.

"I'm killed!" he screamed.

"No, you ain't, but you will be if you don't obey."

"For God's sake, don't fire again!"

"Will you give me that money?"

The cruel, wicked eyes were now turned upon the man in a manner that made him writhe.

He saw that his doom was sealed unless he complied without wasting any more time about it.

So out came the money.

There were stacks of it—hundreds of dollars.

The bandit kept the paying teller covered with one hand, and with the other transferred the money to his saddle bag.

"Now, go!" he shouted.

Then he began to blaze away.

All the clerks dodged under the desk to escape the flying bullets.

Having emptied one of his pistols, and intimidated them, the bandit king spoke to his steed.

Siroc turned and went thundering out to the street.

There an exciting scene was going on.

The gang, to cover Jesse's movements, had begun to fire their pistols right and left, and the people in the streets and houses and stores hastily made themselves scarce.

As soon as Jesse emerged, they closed in around him, dug spurs in their animals, and went clattering away.

Jack and Timberlake had been baffled.

They witnessed the daring robbery.

Seeing that it was impossible to get through the lines of the bandits to stop it, Jack signaled his friends.

No response came back.

Fearing trouble for the Terror they rushed away.

She was where they had left her, but Tim and Fritz had alighted, gone away and were only just then returning.

"What's up?" panted Jack.

"Wood Hite escaped! We've been chasin' him!" Tim replied.

"Too bad! But never mind—-"

"Vot's all dot shootin'?"

"The James Boys—they've beaten us!"

"Whar is they?"

"Running away! Get aboard—arm yourselves!"

"Goin' arter 'em, lad?"

"Yes; don't lose a minute!"

All hands hastily got aboard the stage.

Jack mounted the seat and sent her rushing out.

As soon as she reached the street Jack sent her flying in pursuit of the fugitives.

The bandits soon saw her chasing them.

CHAPTER XVIII. IN DEAD MAN'S GULCH.

The sun was gleaming down brightly as the cavalcade of bandits went thundering out of Husking Valley chased by the electric stage.

A cloud of dust was kicked up by the horses' hoofs which almost obscured the riders from view.

Jack steered the machine with the greatest precision, and Fritz came through the forward door and joined him.

"How did Wood Hite get free to escape?" asked the inventor.

"Ach, he didn'd got free, His hants vos died behint his beck yet," replied Fritz. "Me and Dim vos sittin' oud here, vaitin' tet hear yer sicknal. Puddy soon ve hear somepody behint dot stages, und see Vood Hite had got oud der beck door. He vas runnin' avay. Ve runt afder him. But vhen ve got down der streed, ve don'd see nodding ohf him. He ditsappeared."

"Couldn't you find him?"

"Nein. Ve ditn'd couldt seen vhere he vented."

"I'm sorry, for I wished to put him behind the bars!"

"Nefer mindt," said Fritz. "Ve mebbe caughted more ohf dem."

"I hope so. Anyway, we are pretty close to them now."

"So dey gotted der money from der pank?"

"Jesse rode into the building on horseback and looted it single-handed."

"Dot son-ohf-a-sea-ghooks vos got blenty spunks alretty!"

"Too much for the safety of the public. I'd sooner arrest him individually than his whole gang put together."

"Dot vould preak dem up!"

"That's just my impression."

In a few moments the town was left behind and the horse-men galloped out into the open country over a rocky tract.

There the horses had an advantage over the Terror, as they could pick their way over the rough ground.

A fearful jolting and rattling of the stage ensued, and Jack was forced to slacken speed.

That gave the fugitives an advantage.

They quickly gained a long lead, for Jack had to zigzag the Terror in and out among the stones.

She kept falling farther and still further behind.

Some distance beyond the rocky place Jack caught view of a prairie covered with brush and long dry grass.

It renewed his hope, and he remarked confidentially:

"Once we reach that place we'll soon catch up to them."

"I don't tink so," answered Fritz, who was watching the bandits.

"Why don't you?"

"See vot dey vos doin'!"

A chill of dismay passed over the inventor, for he now saw the bandits setting fire to the long grass.

The wind was blowing toward the Terror.

That kept the fire burning in her direction, while the bandits galloped away from it, setting fire to it as they proceeded.

In a short space of time there was a roaring wall of flame and smoke opposed to the Terror.

In order to prevent Jack from coming in on a flank, the outlaws, spread out like a fan, and kept dropping lighted matches into the combustible grass.

It did not take long to thus create such a wide barrier that the Terror could not hope to get around it in time to overtake the miscreants.

Jack stopped her short.

Clouds of spark-laden smoke were being swept into their faces by the wind, and an intense heat was generated.

"Fritz, we are thwarted."

"Donner vetter! Dey cover deir redreat vell!"

"We can't remain here; those flames will roast us."

"Make a large circle vunct."

"That's the only way," said Jack, starting the Terror.

She now ran off at an angle, and the flames swept to the rocky section and burned out.

There was not enough grass there to keep tha fire going, but behind the first avalanche of flame came another.

It was, therefore, impossible to chase the bandits further.

The fire rendered the air stifling.

Timberlake and Tim were disgusted at this turn of affairs, for both had been confidant of capturing the outlaws.

"If it hadn't ben for ther escape of Wood Hite," growled the old sailor, "we'd aheerd yer signal in ther town, an' reached yer wi' ther Terror afore them lubbers got away."

"Regrets are useless now, Tim."

"O' course. But it allers makes a feller mad ter think he didn't do sich an' sich a thing at ther time he wuz doin' anything wot don't pan out jist as he'd like it ter."

"Perhaps we can head them off yet."

"If thar's a livin' show, Jack'll get it, When I wuz in ther navy we was once asallin' up ther Red Sea, when an Arabian dhow collided with us, an' busted a hole in ther side o' ther Wabash below ther water line; then ther willain coolly sailed away without ever excusin' himself.

"We could astood ther damage, but his indifference about ther injury he done ter us riled us all up. Seein' as he didn't care a blame, our skipper sent ther friggte aflyin' arter him. Waal, sir, ther cuss cracked on sail an' fled. Arter him we tacked, detarmined ter punish ther swab fer his imperdence. It wuz a long stern chase wot lasted ten hours. But we finally overhauled him—-"

"Why didn't your frigate sink if she had a hole stove into her below the water liner."

Tim gave a slight start.

He had entirely overlooked this point.

Pondering a moment, he took a chew of tobacco, and replied:

"I guess ther hole wuzn't smashed all ther way through."

"Don't you know whether it was or not?"

"No; how could I go below ter look at sich a time?"

"You ought to know best."

"Waal, let it pass an' I'll go on."

"No, you won't go on."

"Why not, sir?"

"Because I won't stay here and listen to you."

"Say, sheriff d'yer mean ter insinuate as I'm a liar?"

"Oh, no. I'm too frank to insinuate what I know to be a fact, I say it right out, openly and plainly," laughed Timberlake.

Tim eyed him with a mystified look.

He did not know whether to accept this reply as a direct insult or to take it as a belief in his veracity.

"Wot d'yer mean?" he asked.

"Simply this—you are the most outrageous old liar I ever came in contact with!" replied Timberlake.

"Oh!" cried Tim, in horror. "Listen ter him! You wait till I finish this ere yarn, an' see if I'm tellin' ther truth."

"I'm afraid I won't live long enough to wait until you finish that story," dryly answered the sheriff. "It would be too long a wait on my part, and—-"

But Fritz interrupted him just there by shouting:

"Dere dey go—dere dey go!"

Timberlake opened the front door.

"Who—the bandits?" he asked eagerly.

"Yah."

"Where are they?"

"Dey go among dem rocks."

The stage had by this time run around the fire.

The James Boys must have curved their course toward the very direction to which the Terror was running, for Fritz had suddenly caught view of them.

They were heading for the rocks at the base of a rugged range of hills directly ahead of the electric stage.

Jack noticed a number of gorges, gulches and canyons splitting the towering hills and cliffs ahead, and observed that the bandits were heading for one of them.

He pointed this out to his companions.

"They don't see us yet!" he exclaimed, "but they will the moment they glance back this way!"

"I think I know where they are going," said Timberlake.

"Where?' asked Jack.

"Into Dead Man's Gulch."

"What would bring them there?"

"A huge cave, where the James Boys sometimes retreat."

"Can we reach it with this stage?"

"Yes. But once they get in they could hold us at bay."

"We will see about that when we run them to cover!"

In single file the bandits rode into the dark gulch, and when it had swallowed up the last one Jack pulled over the lever and sent the Terror ahead at full speed.

She made rapid headway to the gulch and soon reached it.

"Where is the cave situated?" asked Jack.

"Opposite that big bowlder, on the left hand side," the sheriff replied. "You'd better put on your armor."

"I shall," Jack replied, as he stopped the Terror, "and you all had better arm yourselves, and prepare for trouble."

Their preparation, were hastily made.

As soon as everything was in readiness Jack alone went outside and assumed control of the wheel.

His friends ranged themselves at the windows.

All were well armed and ready for any danger.

In the course of a few minutes the Terror ran up to the big boulder and paused there.

Jack saw a mass of creeping vines that grew up the side of the wall, covering a dark aperture.

This was probably the cavern entrance.

He had scarcely noticed it when there sounded the sharp spiteful crack of a rifle behind the vines.

Ping! came a bullet.

It struck Jack squarely over the heart.

His breast plate flattened it and it fell harmless.

"A sentrys shot!" he muttered. "The villains know we are here now and the siege will soon begin."

CHAPTER XIX. THE BANDIT'S LAST SHOT.

"Timberlake, I think I can run the Terror into that cave."

"Look out you don't get her jammed in the entrance."

"Oh, I can clear the rocks on each side easily enough."

"Go ahead then."

Jack let the stage advance slowly.

A volley of rifle shots poured out of the cavern entrance.

The bullets did no harm, however, and the Terror continued on.

Reaching the opening she glided in, the hubs of her wheels grazing the rocks on each side, so close did she run.

Another volley met her.

It was lucky Jack had on his armor.

Had he not been so protected be might have perished.

Shot after shot struck him, and bullet after bullet hit the stage.

On she advanced unhesitatingly, though into a short gloomy passage, and then Jack turned on the search-light.

The dazzling glare gushed into an enormous cavern in which, the James Boys had ridden upon their horses.

At the sides there were ledges and galleries, above the roof was domed, and from the main cave numerous passages branched off in various directions.

Near one of these passages stood Siroc with Jesse James astride of his back, the bandit clutching a rifle.

The rest of the men were grouped behind him.

"Hulloa!" he shouted at Jack.

"Jesse James, I demand your surrender!" cried the inventor.

"Why should I?" demanded the bandit.

"Because you can't get away from here alive."

"That's all you know about it. There are plenty exits."

"Will you give in?"

"I want to compromise."

"That I'll never do!"

"I've got a great inducement—-"

"You can make none to me."

"Come here, and you'll see."

A suspicion of treachery flashed over Jack's mind.

He turned to his companions, and said in low tones:

"We want him dead or alive. Fire at him!"

Before Jack's friends could obey, a grating sound was heard above the Terror, and the inventor glanced upward.

A cry of alarm escaped his lips.

Several of the bandits had gone up on the gallery above the Terror, and were pushing over a huge rock that rested there.

Just as Jack looked up it fell.

The rock must have weighed a ton.

It came down directly toward the roof of the Terror.

Jack gave the starting lever a sudden jerk, and the stage suddenly darted ahead.

She was too late to escape injury, though.

With a sickening crush the rock struck the rear end of the roof, crushing it like an egg shell, and going down on the platform, it carried it and the steps away.

A howl of joy escaped the James Boys.

They thought the terror was destroyed.

It was lucky Jack's friends were in the front room.

Although the machine was badly damaged, she was not crippled so she could not work.

The machinery had escaped injury, as Jack had caused her to run ahead just in the nick of time.

"Give it to them, boys!" panted Jack.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

The three shots struck the men in the gallery.

Not one of the villains knew what hit them.

"Again!" roared Jack.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

This time the shots were directed at the riders, and that set up a wild chorus of yells and plunged away.

It was clear enough to Jack that the bandit king had schemed to lure him over closer beneath the gallery so that the men up there would be sure to land the rock on the stage.

A rattling volley came back from the bandits' rifles.

Crack! Crack!

Crack! Crack!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The firing continued without cessation for several minutes, but when the Terror made a rush for the outlaws, it ceased.

Every one of them drove their horses into the passages, and were instantly swallowed up by the gloom.

Jack cut out the current and put on the brakes.

"They're gone. That settles it. We can't follow them into those narrow passages!" he exclaimed. "Let's destroy this place and go out!"

He procured several of the hand grenades, to which binding screws were attached, planted them in niches in the walls, joined them in series by copper wires, and from the two end ones ran two lead wires to the dynamo.

Jack ran the stage out into the gulch.

There he turned a current of electricity into the wires, the bombs were burst, and the cave was blown up.

It was completely wrecked.

The roof fell in, the walls caved in, the passages were choked up with debris, and it was rendered utterly useless as a place of resort again for the outlaws.

Jack sent the stage dashing through the gulch.

It emerged into a valley through which ran a stream which wound in and out among the hills.

Instead of finding the bandits there though, Jack was chagrined to see that the passages they followed had led them up into the hills.

He saw some of the villains speeding away on their horses for the other side of the range.

It was not possible to follow them up there amid the tangled shrubbery and tumbled rocks with the stage.

"The only course to pursue," Jack commented, "is to go around the base of the hills and try to reach them that way."

"It's a mighty long course, my lad," said Tim.

"That's so; but there is no alternative."

"Vhere yer tink dey go now, Dimperlake?" asked Fritz.

"Out of the State, as fast as possible," the sheriff answered.

"Vhy yer tink me dot?"

"Because they've made a rich haul from the Husking Valley Bank, and we have sickened them with this section of the country. They are not used to such rough treatment."

"The James Boys won't leave Missouri until after I land them in prison," resolutely said Jack, "I've come here to do it and I won't be baffled. You know I've got the money they stole from the Wrightstown Bank. Now I'm going to get the governor's reward, or know the reason why."

"If you think you can do it, I'm with you heart and soul," replied the sheriff. "My chief ambition as to break up that gang, and get the nippers on those dare devil brothers."

"To leave the State what place would they go to first?"

"Well, as near as I can judge, the nearest railroad center to this place is Macon City."

"Direct me how to get there."

The sheriff complied.

Jack had to steer the stage around the hills.

She finally reached the table-land on the other side, and a survey was made with telescopes.

In the far distance a horseman was seen.

He looked not much bigger than a fly on the distant horizon, and Jack at once jumped at the conclusion that he might be one of the outlaw gang.

He, therefore, pursued the man.

As he drew near Macon City they were close enough to recognize him as Jesse James mounted on Siroc.

Not one of the rest of the band were in sight for the simple reason that they had scattered and gone in different directions to reach the city singly and in pairs at intervals so as not to excite the suspicion of the inhabitants.

Jesse had seen the stage long before.

He was riding like the wind.

His fine horse seemed to realize the threatening danger and was straining every muscle to outstrip the Terror.

It was in vain.

Nearer and nearer drew the stage.

For a moment Jack was tempted to drive the ram into the gallant horse and thus end the race.

But when he saw what a magnificent beast it was and realized how nobly it was striving to bear its master out of the reach of his foes the inventor relented.

He did not have the cruelty of heart to kill it.

All he wanted was the rider.

So he shouted:

"Halt!"

"Only when I'm dead!" yelled Jesse.

"Then I'll shoot you."

"Two can play at that game!"

As the stage rolled up to the horse, Jack and the bandit were aiming their pistols at each other.

For a moment a deathly silence ensued.

Crack—bang!

The two reports sounded as one.

Jack was unhurt.

But Jesse James flung up his hands and toppled headlong to the ground, with blood gushing from a wound upon his head, and his face looking like that of a corpse.

Siroc galloped on, and the Terror paused.

CHAPTER XX. CONCLUSION.

The moment the bandit king fell from the saddle, Jack sprang to the ground and rushed over to him.

Planting his foot on the breast of the fallen man and raising his pistol in the air, Jack shouted:

"Victory!"

"Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!" cheered his friends.

In a moment they were beside the young inventor.

"Did you kill him?" asked Timberlake.

"No it's only a scalp wound," Jack answered.

"Let me handcuff him."

"Your surmise was correct about the gang heading for Macon City."

"I know what their general habits are."

The sheriff handcuffed the bandit king.

He was utterly unconscious from the shot.

Fritz and Tim were so delighted they shook hands fervently, let off several emphatic expletives and fairly danced.

"Gee whiz, he's captured at last!" roared the sailor.

"Shiminey Christmas, Dim, who oxbected dot alretty?"

"An' ther rest o' his crew must be in harbor in that town."

"Fer sure. Ve vhas bound ter foundt 'em mit der railroat depot."

"Carry the prisoner aboard the Terror, boys," said Jack.

Tim and Fritz did this.

Siroc ran on to the town and vanished.

When Jack realized this a grave look crossed his face.

"I'm sorry the horse escaped!" he exclaimed, regretfully.

"Why so?" asked Timberlake, with some show of surprise. "You could not do anything with that animal. There are very few people in the world who can ride him unless Jesse puts the man on the beast's back and let's it know he desires it."

"That ain't the point," said Jack, "I'm afraid the rest of the gang will see it run riderless into the town and know that Jesse has got into trouble. They may take warning and fly before we can get our hands upon them."

"Very true; let's hasten after it then."

They boarded the stage.

The shadows of twilight were falling.

Fritz and Tim took care of the wheel, and Jack and the sheriff went into the dining-room where Jesse laid on the floor.

He had by this time fully recovered and realized what happened, and a dark scowl mantled his brow as he gazed up at Jack.

"Come to crow over me?" he asked in surly tones.

"Yes," replied Jack. "I made up my mind when I came here that I'd get you, and I've done it."

"There isn't a jail in the State can hold me."

"Timberlake will answer for that."

"Where's Siroc?"

"Ran away."

"Good!"

"Oh, I didn't want him."

"I don't refer to that."

"What then do you mean?"

"All the money I got out of the Husking Valley Bank is in the saddle bag, and he will run straight to the gang, his empty saddle will warn them to fly, and they'll get the money."

"Confound it!"

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

It was a derisive, mocking laugh.

Jesse was delighted because the inventor had not gained all.

On went the stage.

She ran into the city at dusk.

Jesse was put in jail, and Jack and his friends left the stage under guard, and hurried to the railroad depot.

Fortune seemed to favor them.

The first person they saw standing on the platform waiting for the train, was Frank James.

Jack lightly stepped up behind him.

Grasping both of his arms, he exclaimed:

"Frank James, you are my prisoner!"

A startled cry burst from the outlaw's lips, and he made an effort to tear himself free and reach his pistols.

But the iron grip of the young inventor was not to be shaken off so easily, and the wiry bandit found himself as helpless as an infant in the hands of Jack.

Then he craned his neck around to see who had him.

A roar of rage escaped his lips when he satisfied his curiosity.

"Jack Wright!" he gasped.

"Yes, We've got Jesse, too."

"What! Jess caught!"

"Little over an hour ago."

"May the demon roast you!"

"Don't rave! it won't do any good."

"Oh. Lord! Here's Timberlake, too!"

"Yes. He waits to take you away."

"Let go, or I'll—-"

He fiercely struggled again, but it was useless.

Timberlake smiled grimly as he disarmed the outlaw.

He carried a veritable arsenal.

A crowd gathered around.

As soon as they realized that the prisoner was one of the James Boys, the interest in him was aroused at once.

Timberlake snapped a pair of fetters on his own and Frank's wrists, and led him away to the jail.

An alarm had been sent out to the police to look for the rest of the gang.

As Siroc and the men had mysteriously vanished, it was fair to presume that they had found the horse, got the money, took the hint, and left for parts unknown.

Anyway none of them were found.

Jack's mission was accomplished.

The governor was notified of what he had done, and the reward was sent to him at once.

Jack was well satisfied, and Timberlake more so.

If the newspapers had not at once published an account of the arrest, more of the gang might have been taken.

As it was all escaped arrest.

When the evidence of the four was taken, the young inventor had his wonderful electric stage repaired for the journey home as he had nothing further to keep him in Missouri, now that he had dispersed the James Boys gang.

They needed the rest they got after that.

Before Timberlake left them to go to Kansas City, he said:

"I am grateful for all you've done, boys, and will never forget your gallant conduct. You have accomplished what we have for a long time been striving to do."

"Oh, Lor'," said Tim, disdainfully. "That ain't nothin' ter wot I once did when I wuz aboard o' ther ole frigate Wabash."

"Whoop!" roared Fritz, interrupting him.

"Stow yer gab!"

"Vos a yarn comin'?"

"That's none o' yer business, As I was assayin—-"

But he got no farther.

Fritz grabbed his accordeon and began to play.

Tim paused with a look of pain and horror on his face.

"Haul to, thar!" he bellowed.

"I can't. I vos vound up ter 'blay dwendy-four hours," grinned Fritz, grinding away furiously.

"Gee whiz! Yer'll set me looney."

"Noddings vould blease me besser."

"Are yer goin' ter stop?"

"Nien!"

"Then yer a dead Dutchman!"

And so saying Tim chased him into the store-room of the Terror, where the parrot and monkey were roosting, and a moment afterwards the four became tangled up in a struggle that shook the stage like an earthquake.

It did not last long.

When Tim, Fritz, Whiskers and Bismarck emerged from the room, they looked as if they had been passed through a threshing machine, but they were on terms of good fellowship.

Shortly afterwards, Sheriff Timberlake shook hand, with the three friends and departed.

Jack then made preparations to return home.

As soon as the Terror was ready, they left Macon City and started across the country at a rapid pace.

Nothing of importance occurred during the trip, and in due time they reached Wrightstown.

Here they were gladly welcomed.

The machine was then taken apart and packed away as they had no further use for it, the parrot and monkey were transferred to Jack's house and Jack refunded the money to the Wrightstown bank much to everybody's surprise.

It was not long after this that Jack received news that the James Boys had escaped from prison, reorganized the old gang and were devastating the State.

But he did not care to go after them again.

Indeed, he ultimately learned that such a course would have been useless, as Jesse James was finally shot dead by one of the Ford Boys.

Jack had a more peaceful pursuit in view at home.

During his absence he had thought of another new invention, and began to plan it out.

It was a most marvelous contrivance, and in the end he made a success of it, and, when he used it, the machine led him into the most thrilling situations.

For want of space here we have prepared a sequel to this story which will follow in this publication.

It is a most interesting account of Jack, Tim and Fritz, and as we will soon be in their company once more, let us conclude this narrative.

[THE END.]

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Read the Following List of Numbers Already Published:

No. 1 The Wolf Men of Minnesota. . . by Howard De Vere

2 The Shark Hunters. . . by Horace Appleton

3 Tim Finnegan, the Young Irish Detective. . . Written by Himself

4 Fox Cap, the Friend of Daniel Boone. . . by Kit Clyde

5 The American Robinson Crusoe; or, The Wreck of the "Hurricane". . . by Gus Williams

6 Hook and Ladder No. 6. . . by Howard De Vere

7 Lost in the Pacific. . . by Lieut. E. H. Kellogg

8 Ned Newton, the Young Engineer of the Swan. A Story of the Mississippi River. . . by Albert J. Booth

9 Cruise of the Silverwing. . . by George W. Goode

10 On Board the Schoolship Norfork. . . by Hal Standish

11 Roy, the Western Union Telegraph Messenger. . . by Robert Knox

12 Wine and Cards. A Temperance Story. . . by H. K. Shackleford

13 Skeleton Saul. . . by Marline Manly

14 Billy Bunce the Boy Actor. . . by John Sherman

15 McDonald, the Man Tracker. . . by Walter Fenton

16 Yarns Around the Camp Fire. . . by H. K. Shackleford

17 The Secret Glen; or, The Mysterious War Chief. . . by Don Jenardo

18 Comic Adventures of Mike Mulligan. . . by Tom Teaser

19 Corney of the Cliff; or, The Bold Irish Smuggler. . . by Corporal Morgan Rattler

20 Abandoned at Sea. . . by Frank Forrest

21 Nan and Nat. the Child Riders. A True Tale of the Arena. . . by Horace Appleton

22 Dan Hayes; the Detective. . . by Geo. W Goode

23 Virginia Dick. A Southern Boy in the Mexican War. . . by Albert J. Booth

24 The Ghost of the Saw-Mill. . . by Robert Maynard

25 Dick Desmond; or, The Mutiny on the Golden Gate. . . by A. F. Hill

26 Tim Woodruff. the Young Chairmaker. . . by Percy R. St. John

27 Moccasin Mose. . . by Paul Braddon

28 The Pearl Diver. . . by J. G. Bradley

29 Jolly Jack, the Rover; or, The Last Voyage of the Phantom Ship. . . by Allyn Draper

30 Night-Express Ned. . . by Frank Forrest

31 The Lost Finger. . . by Berton Bertrew

32 "Little Dot," the Dandy Scout of the Plains. . . by Paul Braddon

33 Our Social Club. . . by "Ed"

34 The Wreckers of the Wallkill. . . by Allan Arnold

35 Big Beck, the Prince of Trappers. . . by Richard R. Montgomery

36 Mail Train Mat. . . by Frank Forrest

37 Swift-Foot: or, The Adopted Chief. . . by Ralph Morton

38 The Ourang-Ourtang Hunters. . . by Geo. G. Small

39 The Comic Detective. . . by "Ed"

40 Yankee Jack. . . by Captain Geo. Granville

41 Hank Monk; or, The Stage Driver of the Pacific Slope. . . by Robert Maynard

42 The Boss of the School; or, Around the World for Fun. . . by Captain Will Dayton

43 The Fire Rider. . . by Gaston Garne

44 War Eagle; or, The Hero of a Hundred Fights. . . by H. K. Shackleford

45 Simple Silas; or, The Idiot Detective. . . by Harry Rockwood

46 Old Invincible. . . by Police Captain Howard

47 The Secrets of the Diamond Island. . . by Horace Appleton

48 Peeping Peter. A Tale of the American Revolution. . . by Roger Starbuck

49 He Didn't Get Left! Something Very Novel. . . by Peter Pad

50 A Dead Witness. . . by Allan Arnold

51 Danger Signal Dave, the Dashing Boy Engineer of the West. . . by Albert J. Booth

52 Brave Captain Kelly: or, The Daring Irish Privateers. . . by Corporal Morgan Rattler

53 The Caffre King; or, Three New York Youths in Africa. . . by Berton Bertrew

54 Iceberg Jack, the Hero at the Artic. . . by R. T. Emmet

55 Ebony Eph, the Colored Detective. . . by Harry Rockwood

56 Out With General Crook; or, The Twin Scouts of the Sierra Madres. . . by John Sherman

57 The Cavern of Death; or, The Maiden Avenger. . . by Gaston Garne

58 Young Hercules, the King of Detectives. . . by Police Captain Howard

59 The Young Drover; or, The Secret Order of the Northwest. . . by Morris Redwing

60 The Circus Wonder. . . by P. T. Raymond

61 Young Franklin; or, Buried Under the Snow. . . by Albert J. Booth

62 Ruined by Wine. A Temperance Story. . . by H. K. Shackleford

63 Bareback Tom, the Circus Wonder. . . by Horace Appleton

64 No. 202; or, In League With the Secret Service. . . by Lieutenant E. H. Kellogg

65 The Island Captive; or, Donald Dane's Victory. . . by John Sherman

66 One Thousand Miles on Skates. . . by R. T. Emmet

67 Dick the Pilot; or, The River Pirate's Plot. A Tale of the Mississippi. . . by J. G. Bradley

68 The Young Cliff Climber. A Tale of the Andes. . . by Gaston Garne

69 Alderman Maloney. . . by Tom Teaser

70 "King of the Ice;" or, Astray in the Arotic. . . by Albert J. Booth

71 The Spy of Toronto. A Story of 1812. . . by Don Jenardo

72 Lost in the Sewers; or, Adventures Beneath a Great City. . . by Gaston Garne

73 The Wizard of the Deep; or, The Wonderful Ocean Cave. . . by C. Little

74 Gold Mask; or, The Mystery of the Mines. . . by Robert Maynard

75 Young Wide-Awake, the Pride of Engineers; or, Life on the Railroad. . . by Albert J. Booth

76 The Flying Soud. A Romance of the Ever Faithful Isle. . . by Gaston Garne

77 In the Clouds with a Maniac; or, The Jockey's Peril. . . by John Sherman

78 Foxy and Brother, the Invincible Detectives. . . by Police Captain Howard

79 Lost Under Ground; or, A Week in the Dark. . . by Horace Appleton

80 Rocky Mountain Joe. . . by Robert Maynard

81 The Ogres of the Ocean; or, The Voyage of the "Seashell". . . by Albert J. Booth

82 Black Hills Bill. . . by H. K. Shackleford

83 Daring Zach, the Dwarf Scout of Palo Alto. . . by Lieutenant E. H. Kellogg

84 Figure Four; or, Simple Silas' Last Trail. . . by Harry Rockwood

85 The Young Life-Saving Crew. . . by Col. Ralph Fenton

86 The Haunted School-House. . . by Gaston Garne

87 The Mysterious Sport. . . by Robert Maynard

88 The Ocean Mystery. . . by J. G. Bradley

89 Jack Bruce, the Star of the Circus. . . by C. Little

90 The Jaguar Hunters; or, Wild Adventures in Brazil. . . by Harry Rockwood

91 The Life-Savers; or, the Wreck of Lbs "Ringdove". . . by Albert J. Booth

92 The Wonder Skiff. . . by J. G. Bradley

93 Mark Manley, the Young Engineer. . . by Albert J. Booth

94 Kit Carson's Raid. . . by Robert Maynard

95 Cape Horn Chris, the Whaler's Son. . . by Albert J. Booth

96 Two Comical Crusoes, and A Very Black Friday. . . by Tom Teaser

97 Dick Darnley, the Switch Boy. . . by Robert Lennox

98 The Haunted Cave; or, The Land of Wonders. . . by H. K. Shackleford

99 Old Sixty; or, The Last Run of the Special. . . by C. Little

100 The Young Balloonist; or, A Boy's Adventures in the Clouds. . . P. T. Raymond

101 Two New York Boys Around the World. . . by Gaston Garne

102 Phantom, the Prairie Trapper. . . by Paul Braddon

103 "Stand Together;" or, The Young Firemen of Clinton. . . by C. Little

104 Harpoon Harry; or, The Castaways of the Antarctic. . . by Albert J. Booth

105 The Rival Knights; or, The Forest Champion. . . by Walter Fenton

106 Simple Silas Among the Moonshiners. . . by Harry Rockwood

107 The Black Band. . . by Paul Braddon

108 Pacific Dick, the Pirates' Dread. . . by J. G. Bradley

109 Shorthand Dick; or, The Young Reporter in Omaha. . . by Robert Maynard

110 The Mystic "7"; or, The Terror of the Bandits. . . by Gaston Garne

111 Little Crow; or, The Tomahawk and Scalplng Knife in Minnesota. . . by Robert Lennox

112 The Tattooed Hand. . . by Paul Braddon

113 Lost in New York; or, A Country Boy's Adventures. . . by C. Little

114 Simple Silas and the Night-Riders. . . by Harry Rockwood

115 The Ocean Scout; or, Captain Low's Last Cruise. . . by Don Jenardo

116 The Haunted Island. . . by Robert Lennox

117 Torpedo Tom; or, What a Yankee Boy Can Do. . . by Howard De Vere

118 Lightning Joe. . . by R. T. Emmet

119 Among the Thugs; or, Two Yankee Boys in India. . . by Hal Standish

120 Young Phenix: or, Avenged From the Grave. . . by Gaston Garne

121 General Grant's Boy Spy; or, The Hero of Five Forks. . . by Ralph Morton

122 The Pearl of the Border; or, The Girl Avenger. . . by Robert Maynard

123 The Boy Captives of the Zulus; or, Held For Ransom. . . by Capt. Geo. Granville, U. S. A.

124 The Invisible Scout. . . by P. T. Raymond

125 The Mysterious Five; or, The Terror of the Bandits. . . by Paul Braddon

126 Hawk and Weasel, the Baltimore Detectives. . . by Police Captain Howard

127 The Boy Balloonists; or, Adventures in the Clouds. . . by Harry Eaton

128 The Scout's League. . . by Paul Braddon

129 The Black Diamond. . . by Allyn Draper

130 Matt Mizzen, the Young Rover . . . by Gaston Garne

131 From Wine to Ruin; or, Jack Jordan's Peril. . . by H. K. Shackleford

132 The Silent Hunter; or, The Old Scout's Secret. . . by R. T. Emmet

133 The King of the Clouds. . . by Walter Fenton

134 The Hidden Cave. A Legend of the Ohio. . . by Don Jenardo

135 Little Luke the Boy Driver of the Mines; or, The Young Hero of Diamond Shaft. A Story of Life and Adventures Down in a Coal Mine. . . by C. Little

136 The Diamond Bullet. . . by Gaston Garne

137 Old Bob Gray: or, The Lone Trapper of the Rockies. A Story of Wild Adventure. . . by C. Little

138 The Red Pirate; or, The Island of Death. . . by J. G. Bradley

139 The House on the Hill. . . by Don Jenardo

140 Dashwell, the Detective; or, The Mysteries of Seven Days. . . by Police Captain Howard

141 The Dead Avenger; or, Denounced from the Grave. . . by Robert Lennox

142 Little Corinne: or, The Pride of the Ring. A Thrilling Story of Circus Life. . . by Lieut. E. H. Kellogg

143 Tracked for Years. . . by Corporal Morgan Rattler

144 The Dwarf Bell Ringer; or, The Mystery of the Church Tower. . . by Gaston Garne

145 Ranch 5. A Story of the "49ers". . . by Robert Maynard

146 The Black Cross; or, The Mysteries of the Jungle. A Tale of India. . . by Robert Lennox

147 Keen Kit; or, The Border Detective Among the Mormons. . . by Walter Fenton

148 The Secret Den; or, The Mississippi Pirates. . . by Don Jenardo

149 The Masked Safe Blowers of Chicago. . . by Walter Fenton

150 Vogiene, the Unknown Wonder of the Border. . . by Paul Braddon

151 The Mad Midshipman; or, The Pirate's Last Cruise. . . by Gaston Garne

152 Emerald Pat; or, The Orange and the Green. . . by Sergeant O'Donnell

153 Born to Be a Middy; or, On and Off a Man-o'-War. . . by J. G. Bradley

154 The Circus Runaway; or, The Boy Trainer and His Elephant on Their Travels. . . by P. T. Raymond

155 Luke Bland; or, Piping a Dreadful Crime. . . by Tom Fox

156 The Broken Vow: or, The Lion Tamer's Oath. . . by C. Little

157 The Firebugs of Chicago. . . by Horace Appleton

158 The Ghouls of Gotham; or, The Man in the Black Cloak. . . by Paul Braddon

159 Crookstaff, the Ranger; or, The Outlaws of the Hill. . . by John Sherman

160 Liontine, the Pirate's Daughter. . . . by Lieut. E. H. Kellogg

161 Contiental Dick, the Dread of the Tories. . . by Col. Ralph Fenton

162 The Young Brigand Chief. . . by Robert Maynard

163 The Black Hand; or, The Mystery of a Ring. . . by Gaston Garnes

164 Just in Time; or, The Plot That Failed. . . by P. T. Raymond

165 Bold Ben Bryan, the Yankee Sailor Boy. . . by J. G. Bradley

166 Hunting the Wolf-Killers; or, Perils in the Northwest. . . by R. T. Emmet

167 The Haunted Cabin; or, The Secrets of the Swamp. . . by H. K. Shackleford

168 The Hand of Fate; or, The Hawks of New York. . . by Paul Braddon

169 The King of Three Oceans. . . by J. G. Bradley

170 The Gipsy's Curse; or, The Revenge of a Lifetime. . . by C. Little

171 The Swan; or, Life on the Mississippi. . . by Don Jenardo

172 Dragon Dick; or, In Pursuit of a Mountain Bandit. . . by Robert Maynard

173 From East to West in a Balloon. . . by Gaston Garne

174 Around the World in the Air; or, The Adventures of a Flying Man. . . by Harry Kennedy

175 The Death Spell; or, The Black Voodoo's Vengeance. . . by C. Little

176 The Boy Jockey; or, Fame and Fortune on the Race Course. . . by R. T. Emmet

177 Big Carlos, the Giant Pirate. . . by J. G. Bradley

178 Hank Hamilton, the Blue Grass Detective; or, The Horse Thieves of Kentucky. . . by Police Captain Howard

179 Monte, the Mystery of Culpepper Valley. . . by Paul Braddon

180 The Pearl of the Pacific. . . by Robert Lennox

181 The Magic Rifle. . . by C. Little

182 Bravest of tho Brave. A Story of the Mexican War. . . by Capt. Geo. Granville, U. S. A.

183 Greybeard, the Terror of the Seas. . . by A. F. Hill

184 Pete Walsh, the Western Detective. . . by R. T. Emmet

185 The House of Mystery. . . by Police Captain Howard