Suddenly Terry turned his back on his foe and deliberately struck several times at vacancy. Then he dropped his hands and walked back by the fire, saying, with a shake of his head:

"I've enough! ye could bate the divil and his uncle."

Fred Linden was sitting on the ground shaking with laughter. He had not seen any thing for a long time that pleased him so much. He had observed Terry in more than one fight with the boys at home and he knew he was an ugly customer, as full of grit as a bull dog, but the Shawanoe struck him fully a dozen times, while the Irish lad with all his skill desperately put forth never once touched him. The discomfiture of the brave Irish lad was complete.

No witness of the bout, however, could have failed to admire the skill and pluck of Terry. He acquitted himself well and kept up the struggle, even after he was convinced that he could do nothing with his alert antagonist. Then, when Deerfoot began to trifle with him, he turned around as I have shown and struck the empty air.

"Why did you do that?" asked Fred, as the three stood by the fire discussing the incident.

Terry passed his open hand over his cheeks, which were red and smarting from the sharp taps of Deerfoot, and closing one eye and scratching his head, made answer:

"I had been sthrikin' at Deerfut until I obsarved that ivery time I sthruck at him I didn't hit him; so thinks I to mesilf, I will see whither I can hit him by tryin' not to hit him; so I sthruck where I knowed he wasn't, thinkin' he was there."

"Well, I must declare Deerfoot the winner."

"I can't deny that he is; I throw up the sponge and extind to him the best wishes for himself and family."

Smiling in a way that left no doubt of his relish of the incident, Deerfoot warmly shook the hand of his friend, whose brave fight had increased his admiration of him.

"My brother is brave," said he admiringly; "perhaps he can lay Deerfoot on his back; Deerfoot will rejoice if he can do so."

"Be the powers! but that suits me," exclaimed the delighted Terry; "I forgot we were to have a wrestling match; Fred, ye will be koind enough to sarve as riferee again; we'll take side holts and it'll be the bist two out of thraa."

Terry was warranted in feeling more confidence in this test of skill. He had failed—as he knew he would always fail—in a sparring contest, for the reason that Deerfoot was so quick that he could not touch him; but one of the necessities of a wrestling match is that the contestants shall first seize each other. Terry believed that he had as much physical strength as Deerfoot, and if he once got a fair hold, he would not let go until he downed him.

Terry being right and Deerfoot left handed, each was able to secure his most effective grip. So, standing side by side, in the old fashioned style, with a dusky left arm around the white neck and a white arm around the dusky neck, they began the struggle.

In this match, as before, Deerfoot allowed his antagonist to dally with him awhile before he took the aggressive. Passing him over his hip Terry gave Deerfoot such a violent fling that a pang of fear shot through him, lest he had broken the Shawanoe's neck; but though he shot headlong out of the grasp of the Irish lad, the Shawanoe landed lightly on his feet and instantly leaped back and closed with Terry again.

"I'll fetch ye this time," he muttered between his compressed lips; "ye shan't git out of me hands till ye's down flat on yer back and mesilf layin' a-straddle of ye. There's a difference between boxin' and sparrin' and I shall taich ye the same, as me grandmither—"

Both went down that instant, but the Shawanoe was on top. His antagonist could not have fallen flatter had he been dropped from the roof of a house.

"Mark the first fall for Deerfut," called out Terry, hastily clambering to his feet, the Shawanoe extending his hand to help.

This result weakened the confidence of the Irish lad in himself, that is, so far as concerned his opponent. He reflected that many of the Indians are skillful wrestlers, and while Deerfoot had had no training in boxing, he had in the other art. Such a cool headed athlete would be sure to learn fast. Terry recognized the peculiar flirt by which he had been turned off his feet as the very trick he had played successfully on his playmates at home, but which he never dreamed was known to Deerfoot.

The Irish lad tried every possible lock, twist and turn upon his rival, but he could not get him off his feet. It seemed to Terry that he whirled in the air when almost on the ground, and that if he had been dropped head downwards from the height of a rod, he would alight on his feet.

Fred saw Deerfoot, who was carefully watching his antagonist, smile, and he knew what was coming. So deftly that, for the life of him, the spectator could not see how it was done, Terry went over again as "flat as a flounder." Not only that, but to the astonishment of the victim as well as of the witness, the Shawanoe remained erect, so that he literally flung his antagonist to the ground and looked smilingly down upon him.

"Ye can baat the baaters," exclaimed Terry, rising to his feet, and shaking hands with his victor. "I niver met any one who could down me in that sthyle. I don't know how ye did the same, but I haven't any doubts that ye done it, as me great uncle remarked whin the cannon ball took off his head."

With the same shadowy smile Deerfoot looked inquiringly at Fred Linden.

"Deerfoot thinks maybe his brother would be glad to lay him on the ground?"

"I'll be hanged if I don't try it," laughed Fred, springing to his feet, and instantly but cautiously closing arms with the graceful warrior.

"My brother can not throw Deerfoot," said the latter; "but the heart of Deerfoot would be glad if he would tell him how he would like to fall—on his shoulders, or side, or back."

"I wouldn't like to fall at all; but if you think you can get me on my shoulders, just try it; that's all."

"It shall be as my brother wishes."

The words seemed yet in the mouth of Deerfoot when Fred felt himself sailing through space, and the next instant he landed on his shoulders with a shock that Terry declared made the ground shake.

As before, Deerfoot himself did not fall, but looked smilingly down on his prostrate friend as he began climbing to his feet again.

"Now, if my brother wishes to fall on his back, it shall be so."

"I've little doubt that you will not do just as you say you will; I only ask that you wait till I say I am ready; you did the last before I had time to prepare."

"Ye bitter not ax him to wait," said Terry, who rolled over on the ground in the exuberance of his mirth, at the sight of his big friend going down before the lithe, willowy Shawanoe; "for since he's bound to do what he says, the sooner ye are out of yer suspinse, the sooner ye'll be out of it."

"Be kind enough to attend to your own affairs," said Fred stiffly; "Deerfoot and I are running this show."

"It looks as if Deerfut had charge of the whole of it," was the comment of Terry, who broke into laughter again; "and whin he is done ye'll agraa with me."

Once more the arms passed over each other's neck. Fred resolved that whatever came, he would not be taken by surprise this time. He was stronger than Terry and he had thrown him more than once. He could not understand, therefore, why he should not at least give the Shawanoe a struggle. He braced his feet, with every muscle strained, and every faculty on the alert.

"I am ready," said he; "do your best."

"On which side shall Deerfoot throw his brother?"

"On my right side, and as hard as you can."

Now, you will see the difficulty of the task, for Fred had his right arm tightly locked over the neck of Deerfoot, so that that side was guarded by the body of the warrior himself. It would seem, that if Fred should fall on either side it could only be on the left. Manifestly if it should be the right, the Shawanoe could not go down with him. He must bring him to the ground and escape from beneath him before he fell.

He did it. For a second or two the contestants stood motionless. Then, like a flash, Deerfoot slipped from the grasp of his friend, dropped down in a stooping posture almost to the earth, holding the right hand of Fred firmly with his left (this was to prevent him using that hand to save himself), and then by a quick dart to the left, he carried both feet of his opponent off the ground, and Fred fell squarely on his right side, his conqueror straightening up as he went down.

"I would be obleeged," said Terry, throwing back his head with laughter, "if yees will be koind enough to till me who is runnin' the show about this time."

Fred was chagrined at the ease with which Deerfoot had overthrown him, and it was not lessened by the honest compliment which the young warrior gave to his skill. Both Fred and Terry had been pretty well jarred, for they were downed with such amazing suddenness that it could not be otherwise; but neither referred to it and they could only praise the wonderful ability of their friend.

"I tell you," said Fred, seating himself on the ground beside the other two, after the flurry was over, "all this proves that skill is worth more than strength. I am quite sure that I am as strong as you, Deerfoot, but I don't believe that Terry and I together could lay you on your back. When I had my arm around your neck, I suspected you would try to slip out, and I squeezed you pretty hard. You slid out so quickly that at the moment you were down at my heels, I thought I had you fast."

"I'm thinkin' that the nixt thing we should try is a race; Fred can outrun me and I'll agraa that he will outrun Deerfut, that is, if ye'll allow me to make the conditions."

"What would they be?" asked Deerfoot, Looking gravely down upon his friends.

"The race should be for a hundred yards, and Deerfut must give Fred ninety-five yards start, though to make it sure enough, maybe it ought to be ninety-six or siven."

"Then you would require about ninety-nine, according to the same calculation," said Fred.

"Ye's are right," replied Terry, to whom it seemed that no athletic feat was impossible for the Shawanoe; "nayther yersilf nor mesilf have a right to be mintioned in the same day with him."



CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE LAST CAMP-FIRE.

It seemed to strike all three of the friends at the same moment that they had shown a strange forgetfulness of the occasion. A sudden impulse had led them into a test of skill, that had continued fully a quarter of an hour, during which there was no thought on the part of any one of the gravity of their situation.

But a little while before, both Fred Linden and Terry Clark were in distress on account of their friends, while their own position (believing as they did that there were Winnebagos in front as well as in the rear), ought to have driven away all inclination for sport or amusement. One of their strongest desires was the presence of Deerfoot, that they might have his counsel and help. Here he was, and no reference had been made to the subjects uppermost in their minds. Now that he took his seat near them by the camp-fire, as if to invite their confidence, they quickly returned to the all important business.

First of all, they asked for his experience since their separation the night before. He gave only a part of it. He told nothing about his conflict with the Wolf and his companion, which resulted in the death of both, but said that he had kept watch of the Winnebagos until morning, when he saw them start for the camp in the mountains. He learned from their signaling that they had other warriors in the neighborhood, and there could be no doubt that an attack was intended upon the Hunters of the Ozark. Nevertheless the Shawanoe kept in their vicinity, until they approached the open prairie of which mention has been make. Then he decided to pass them and join his young friends.

Feeling no doubt that the latter were following the right trail (several examinations which he made satisfied him that they were doing so), he left it altogether, and took a shorter route across the country. He was so familiar with it that he could easily do this. His intention was to strike the main path again at the crossing, where they had such a narrow escape from the cyclone; but he calculated that by nightfall they would be a considerable distance beyond, and he wished to test their watchfulness when left to themselves. So he came back to the trail about half way between that point and the creek which they had crossed by means of the canoe. He saw from an examination of the ground that he was ahead of them, so he sauntered forward, firing off his gun where a turn in the path made it seem to come from one side instead of in front of them. He did this as he explained with a view of warning them to keep their eyes open. It soon began growing dark and he kept on until he reached the stream, where he decided to wait and see what they would do.

He was as surprised as they when they brought forth the little canoe and pushed themselves across by means of the pole which Fred Linden himself cut. He followed them, easily wading the stream. After that he indulged in a little diversion with which you are familiar.

"Wasn't it strange, Deerfoot," said Fred, "that we should have found that canoe?"

He nodded his head to signify that he thought it was.

"Have you any idea how it got there?"

"He who owned the boat hid it under the bushes."

"But there are no Indian villages within a great many miles of this place—is that not so?"

He gave another affirmative nod.

"Have you any idea of who the owner can be?"

A third affirmative nod followed.

"Who is he?" asked Fred in astonishment.

"Deerfoot."

"What! Does that little canoe belong to you?"

"Deerfoot made it and hid it under the bushes: why did not my brothers use the paddle?"

"We hunted all round, but could not find it."

"It was within reach of my brother's hands; it was covered with leaves."

"And so the boat is yer own?" repeated Terry; "why that looks as if ye lived somewhere in this neighborhood; is such the case, owld boy?"

The question did not seem to please the Shawanoe. He was sitting directly in front of his young friends, who looked earnestly in his face. He made no answer to Terry's question, but continued looking among the coals, as if he was pondering some other matter that had thus been brought to mind. Fred shook his head at Terry as a warning that he should not repeat his query, and the latter was wise enough not to do so; but the friends concluded from that moment that the wandering young Shawanoe made his home at no great distance from where all three were at that moment sitting in the wilderness. And they were right.

A minute later, Deerfoot raised his head and signified that he wished to know in turn what had befallen them since they parted company twenty-four hours before. You will admit that each had a stirring story to tell and he told it. The Shawanoe first listened to Terry's account of his ride on the back of the wounded buffalo, and, when it was finished, he quietly remarked to his young friend that he had done well.

Though he showed no emotion, it was clear to both boys that he felt the most concern in the experience of Fred Linden. He said nothing until the narrator was through, including the account of the cyclone. Deerfoot had heard the noise made by the latter, but he was so far removed from its path that he saw none of its fearful effects, and in fact cared little about it, for he had seen the same thing more than once before.

But that which interested him was the account of Fred Linden's meeting with the Winnebago horse thieves. This was the first knowledge he received that any of their enemies were mounted on animals. Deerfoot had turned off the main trail so early in the day that he missed them altogether. When he came back to the path, near where the three were in camp at that moment, and he examined the ground for signs of the footprints of the boys, there were none that had been made by the hoofs of horses. They had struck the trail further to the north, taking a different course from the camp where they had stolen the animals.

Fred blushed under the warm compliments of Deerfoot on his coolness, bravery and skill in the presence of the three Winnebagos. You will agree that it was a daring exploit indeed, which would have done credit to a veteran frontiersman. It could not have been otherwise to draw such warm praise from the Shawanoe.

But the compliments could well be deferred to some other season. The fact that three Indians had stolen the same number of horses from the Hunters of the Ozark, and then had ridden leisurely away to meet their friends, showed that they had great confidence in themselves, doubtless caused by the belief that they were safe against any attempt to recover the property.

"Deerfoot," said Fred, after there had been a full exchange of experiences; "we stopped here only because we could not keep to the trail in the darkness. Don't you think it best that we should now go on, since you will not have the same trouble that we did?"

He shook his head in the negative.

"It is not far to the camp of my brothers; the Winnebagos are a long ways back on the trail; they will not come up with us; my brothers have a chance to sleep; they may have no chance when they reach the cabin; let them sleep now."

The natural inference from this remark was that he believed nothing more was to be apprehended from the Winnebagos, so long as our three friends were on their way to the cabin of the Hunters of the Ozark. The danger would now be transferred to that point.

"Is it not likely that some of the red men are between us and our friends?" asked Fred, as though their guide had not thought of every contingency.

"There is none," was the quiet answer, and then he added the explanation. The Winnebagos, as soon as they had captured the horses, had mounted them and ridden off to meet Black Bear and the rest, so as to combine with them in the attack upon the cabin in the mountains. Being so few in numbers, they did not dare stay in the neighborhood, but were certain to come back with the others.

The theft of the animals was no part of the original plan of the red men, and was therefore what may be considered poor generalship, since it was likely to draw attention to the presence of hostiles and to put the Hunters of the Ozark on their guard.

Deerfoot made no such remark at the time, but he afterward expressed his regret that he had not joined Fred and Terry earlier in the day, so that he could have been with them when they met the horse thieves. Had he done so, there can be no doubt that they would have recaptured every one of the animals, even if they had had to shoot each thief from the back of his stolen steed. Such a result would have changed the whole course of the events that followed.

Since the Shawanoe advised them to stay where they were until morning, the natural query of the lads was as to the degree of danger they ran. They had thought there was little to be feared from Indians, but after the fire was started, both had misgivings—afterward intensified no doubt by the little trick played upon them by Deerfoot.

He assured them that there was nothing to be feared from Indians. There was and would be none near them through the night. They were at a safe distance from the trail, so that if any one should pass back or forth he could not possibly catch a glimpse of the camp.

"I never dispute a man's sintimints," said Terry, "onless it happens to disagraa with me own, so I'll say ye are right because we think the same way; but it's within me own ricolliction that whin ye enj'yed the honor of our coompany night before last, ye kipt guard all the night; Frederick and mesilf will now return the coompliment and take charge of the honors oursilves. If ye have any disputation that ye want to inter into, we'll sittle it by maans of a wristling match."

Deerfoot was inclined at first to act as sentinel, just as he had done before, but he had already declared that there was nothing to be feared, and his friends were so in earnest that he could not well refuse their request. He would have preferred that they should gain all the sleep they could, so as to lay up a stock, as may be said, against what was likely to come at the cabin, but he yielded. He agreed to their wishes, and in doing so, indulged in one of his smiles, the depth of whose meaning neither of the youths fully comprehended. In fact it simply meant that he understood their ability in that respect better than they did themselves.

And so, after reading his Bible, a portion of it aloud, he lay down upon the blanket of Terry, as he did two nights before, and soon fell asleep.

"I'm glad to obsarve the same," remarked Terry; "for the good lookin' spalpeen must be in naad of slumber. I say, Fred, did ye iver saa the loikes of him? We must git him to run a race and jump and swim and stand on his head and show jist what he can do. I'm glad as I say to obsarve that he is aslaap, for he must naad the same. I say, Fred, let's stay awake till daylight, so as to fool him."

"I am glad to do that in return for the watch he kept over us the other night; but if you and I undertake to sit up at the same time we shall fail. So I'll lie down and sleep awhile. When you find yourself getting drowsy, wake me up and then I shall be able to keep my eyes open until morning. In that way Deerfoot may have a whole night of rest."

"I'm agraaable to the same."

The plan was carried out, that is, a part of it, Fred Linden soon dropped asleep, and, within an hour, Terry Clark did the same. When Deerfoot threw his blanket off his face and assumed the sitting position, he saw just what he expected to see and he allowed them to slumber peacefully until daylight.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

CONCLUSION.

The awaking of the boys was of the most pleasant character. The sky had cleared and the sunlight penetrated between the branches from which the autumn leaves were fast falling. The crispness which is felt at that season of the year, stirred the young hearts and enlivened the spirits in spite of the serious situation in which all three found themselves.

The odor of broiling fish was snuffed by the lads, and nothing could have been more delicious and appetizing. They were very hungry, and the night before they supposed they would have to wait indefinitely for their morning meal, but they opened their eyes to find that Deerfoot had provided the most toothsome breakfast that could be imagined.

In the early morning light, fully two hours before the sun appeared, Deerfoot crossed the stream in his own canoe, and, taking the trail, ran several miles at the highest speed. While he did not go far enough to see the camp-fire of the main war party of Winnebagos, he did not pause until certain that they had stayed in camp all night and would not cross the stream where the boys lay asleep until the forenoon was half gone. So the Shawanoe hastened back, and dropped a short distance down stream in his canoe, having obtained his paddle, to an eddy where it took but a few minutes for him to coax a half dozen fish from the cool, clear depths, and these were just browning to a turn when the boys opened their eyes.

Fred and Terry looked in each other's faces and laughed. They knew what an absurd failure they had made. They had promised to watch while Deerfoot slept, and then left him to act as sentinel until morning.

"It was your fault," whispered Fred, hunting in his pocket for the package of salt and pepper which survived, despite the wetting it had received; "why didn't you wake me up, as I told you to do?"

"How could I wake ye up when I was aslaap mesilf?" was the pertinent query of Terry; "I think I was only a half minute behind yersilf in beginning me swate dreams."

"Even if you had roused me," said Fred, "I suppose I would have dropped to sleep the same as you; no one can keep awake (unless it is Deerfoot) while sitting on the ground. Well, I am sure I shan't say any thing about it if he doesn't."

"Let us shake on that," whispered Terry, stealthily extending his hand.

Deerfoot acted as though unaware that any such lapse had occurred. The browned fish were spread on the green leaves, and Fred sprinkled the seasoning upon the portions to be eaten by himself and Terry; the Shawanoe preferred none on his.

"If nothing unexpected happens," said Fred, "we will arrive at the cabin to-day."

The Shawanoe inclined his head by way of answer.

"When will the Winnebagos that are following us come to this stream?"

Deerfoot pointed to a portion of the sky which the sun would reach in about three hours from that time.

"The Winnebagos are together; there may be a few coming from different parts of the wood, but Black Bear has most of his warriors with him, and he feels strong enough to destroy the cabin and our brothers who are there."

"There are three there now, and when we join them there will be six. If father and the rest have fair notice of their coming, they ought to be able to put every thing in good shape for a defense. It won't take them long to gather enough food to last for weeks, but how about water?"

"They have no water; our brothers know not why they should have it."

The Shawanoe meant to say that the men, seeing no reason why they should collect any store of water within their primitive structure, never did so. It was at their door, and, when they wished to drink, they had but to stoop down and drink. Believing no such emergency as now threatened could arise, they failed to make any provision against it.

"I've been thinkin'," said Terry, "that bein' as how we started from Greville to j'in the Hunters of the Ozark, with the idaa of spindin' the winter with the same, that from the time we started we were mimbers of the same, but timporarily separated by a wide stritch of woods; what are yer own idaas?"

"I am not sure that I understand what you are trying to get at, but if you mean to say that we may call ourselves two of the Hunters of the Ozark, I see no objection if we are a few days behind the rest in reaching the beaver runs."

"Oblige me by tistifying to the same," said Terry, rather effusively, shoving his hand toward his friend, who suspended operations with the fish long enough to salute him.

The breakfast was quickly finished, and the boys helped each other with their knapsacks, caught up their guns and followed Deerfoot as he led the way back to the trail. He did not hint any thing about their failure to keep guard for him the night before, though they felt sure that they would hear from him at some time not very far distant.

When they found themselves following the path that had become so familiar, they glanced furtively behind, half expecting to hear the Winnebago war whoop and to see the warriors rushing after them; but not a living soul beside themselves was in sight, and the quiet assurance of their leader very nearly removed all such fear from them.

"Are there any more streams to cross?" asked Fred, a moment after they started along the trail.

"There are none."

"That is good, and since we are several hours in advance of the Indians, we ought to be able to reach the cabin in time to give them warning, that is, if they are in need of it."

"How can they help being in need?" asked Terry.

"The horses were turned loose to look after themselves, and though I can't know for some time how it is, it seems to me that it could well happen that they would not miss the animals for several days and possibly not for a week or two."

The best ground for doubting that the Hunters of the Ozark were aware of the theft of the horses was the fact that there had been no pursuit. Those men, it is safe to say, would not have stayed idle had they known that three vagabond Indians were astride of their property and riding to the northward. With the three fleeter animals at command, they would have been after them in a twinkling: they would not have been obliged to wait till they met Fred Linden before receiving some rifle shots.

Fred was confirmed in this theory by Deerfoot, who declared that such was his explanation of the failure of the hunters to pursue the thieves.

For two hours the trail which they were following steadily ascended, until they were considerably higher than when they left camp in the morning. The undergrowth was abundant, and the wood in some places was so dense that they could see only a short distance on either hand. The trail was sinuous, winding in and out among the rocks in a way that would have bewildered any one not used to such traveling.

At last they reached the ridge of the elevation up which they had been climbing, and found themselves on the margin of a plateau or rather valley, beyond which rose the rugged, precipitous Ozarks. Since the ground sloped away from them, in the direction of the mountains, their view was extended over many square miles of forest, stream and natural clearing, to the mountain walls beyond, looking dim and soft in the distance, with the hazy air between.

"Do my brothers see the gleam of the water yonder?" asked Deerfoot, pointing to a winding stream, large enough to be called a river, though it was half hidden by the woods. Its course was in the main at right angles to the trail which the boys had been following, though, at times it seemed to run straight toward and then away from them.

The youths answered that they could not very well look in the direction indicated by their friend, without seeing the stream to which he directed their attention.

The Shawanoe placed himself so that he stood in front of the two.

"Now," said he, "let my brothers follow Deerfoot's finger and tell me what they see."

Pointing well to the right, he slowly swung his index finger toward the left, until he had described about a quarter of a circle.

Since it was not easy for the two to look exactly at the point meant, at the same time, Terry Clark first tried it. Removing his cap, he closed one eye and carefully peered along the extended arm of the Shawanoe as though it was a rifle which he was about to aim and fire.

"What is it?" asked Fred, a moment later, with some impatience over the plodding deliberation of his companion.

"I obsarve a big lot of traas, some rocks, some water and a claarin' where ye could raise a big lot of praties, and—and—and—"

"I see what you mean!" exclaimed Fred in some excitement; "right in the middle of the clearing stands a large cabin made of logs."

"It's mesilf that obsarves the same," added Terry, replacing his cap and looking inquiringly at the Shawanoe, who let his extended arm fall as he faced about and said: "That is the home of my brothers; that is the cabin of the Hunters of the Ozark."

"Hurrah!" called out Terry; "we're purty near there."

"But we don't know how matters stand," said Fred; "even Deerfoot can not tell whether they are all alive or dead."

"I know bitter than that," remarked Terry, appealing straight to the Shawanoe, who, without directly answering the question, notified them of an interesting fact: a thin column of smoke was rising from the cabin.

"That shows that some one is in there," said the Irish lad, "but whither he is white or rid, I don't s'pose the Shawanoe, with all his smartness, can tell even at this distance."

"My brother speaks truth," said Deerfoot; "our brothers may be well and they maybe dead and the Winnebagos may have built the fire to lure us to them: we shall soon know."

* * * * *

Here for the present we must pause, for we have already filled the space assigned to us; but we propose soon to tell you all about the adventures of Deerfoot, Fred and Terry, and of their friends the Hunters of the Ozark, whom they were trying to help. The story in which this will be related will appear under the title of

"THE CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS."

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FAMOUS STANDARD JUVENILE LIBRARIES.

ANY VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY AT $1.00 PER VOLUME

(Except the Sportsman's Club Series, Frank Nelson Series and Jack Hazard Series.).

Each Volume Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth.

HORATIO ALGER, JR.

The enormous sales of the books of Horatio Alger, Jr., show the greatness of his popularity among the boys, and prove that he is one of their most favored writers. I am told that more than half a million copies altogether have been sold, and that all the large circulating libraries in the country have several complete sets, of which only two or three volumes are ever on the shelves at one time. If this is true, what thousands and thousands of boys have read and are reading Mr. Alger's books! His peculiar style of stories, often imitated but never equaled, have taken a hold upon the young people, and, despite their similarity, are eagerly read as soon as they appear.

Mr. Alger became famous with the publication of that undying book, "Ragged Dick, or Street Life in New York." It was his first book for young people, and its success was so great that he immediately devoted himself to that kind of writing. It was a new and fertile field for a writer then, and Mr. Alger's treatment of it at once caught the fancy of the boys. "Ragged Dick" first appeared in 1868, and ever since then it has been selling steadily, until now it is estimated that about 200,000 copies of the series have been sold.

—Pleasant Hours for Boys and Girls.

A writer for boys should have an abundant sympathy with them. He should be able to enter into their plans, hopes, and aspirations. He should learn to look upon life as they do. Boys object to be written down to. A boy's heart opens to the man or writer who understands him.

—From Writing Stories for Boys, by Horatio Alger, Jr.

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RAGGED DICK SERIES. 6 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $6.00 Ragged Dick. Rough and Ready. Fame and Fortune. Ben the Luggage Boy. Mark the Match Boy. Rufus and Rose.

TATTERED TOM SERIES—First Series. 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 Tattered Tom. Phil the Fiddler. Paul the Peddler. Slow and Sure.

TATTERED TOM SERIES—Second Series. 4 vols. $4.00 Julius. Sam's Chance. The Young Outlaw. The Telegraph Boy.

CAMPAIGN SERIES. 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 Frank's Campaign. Charlie Codman's Cruise. Paul Prescott's Charge.

LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES—First Series. 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 Luck and Pluck. Strong and Steady. Sink or Swim. Strive and Succeed.

LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES—Second Series. 4 vols. $4.00 Try and Trust. Risen from the Ranks. Bound to Rise. Herbert Carter's Legacy.

BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 Brave and Bold. Shifting for Himself. Jack's Ward. Wait and Hope.

NEW WORLD SERIES. 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 Digging for Gold. Facing the World. In a New World.

VICTORY SERIES. 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 Only an Irish Boy. Adrift in the City. Victor Vane, or the Young Secretary.

FRANK AND FEARLESS SERIES. 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 Frank Hunter's Peril. Frank and Fearless. The Young Salesman.

GOOD FORTUNE LIBRARY. 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 Walter Sherwood's Probation. A Boy's Fortune. The Young Bank Messenger.

RUPERT'S AMBITION. 1 vol. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $1.00

JED, THE POOR-HOUSE BOY. 1 vol. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $1.00

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HARRY CASTLEMON.

HOW I CAME TO WRITE MY FIRST BOOK.

When I was sixteen years old I belonged to a composition class. It was our custom to go on the recitation seat every day with clean slates, and we were allowed ten minutes to write seventy words on any subject the teacher thought suited to our capacity. One day he gave out "What a Man Would See if He Went to Greenland." My heart was in the matter, and before the ten minutes were up I had one side of my slate filled. The teacher listened to the reading of our compositions, and when they were all over he simply said: "Some of you will make your living by writing one of these days." That gave me something to ponder upon. I did not say so out loud, but I knew that my composition was as good as the best of them. By the way, there was another thing that came in my way just then. I was reading at that time one of Mayne Reid's works which I had drawn from the library, and I pondered upon it as much as I did upon what the teacher said to me. In introducing Swartboy to his readers he made use of this expression: "No visible change was observable in Swartboy's countenance." Now, it occurred to me that if a man of his education could make such a blunder as that and still write a book, I ought to be able to do it, too. I went home that very day and began a story, "The Old Guide's Narrative," which was sent to the New York Weekly, and came back, respectfully declined. It was written on both sides of the sheets but I didn't know that this was against the rules. Nothing abashed, I began another, and receiving some instruction, from a friend of mine who was a clerk in a book store, I wrote it on only one side of the paper. But mind you, he didn't know what I was doing. Nobody knew it; but one day, after a hard Saturday's work—the other boys had been out skating on the brick-pond—I shyly broached the subject to my mother. I felt the need of some sympathy. She listened in amazement, and then said: "Why, do you think you could write a book like that?" That settled the matter, and from that day no one knew what I was up to until I sent the first four volumes of Gunboat Series to my father. Was it work? Well, yes; it was hard work, but each week I had the satisfaction of seeing the manuscript grow until the "Young Naturalist" was all complete.

—Harry Castlemon in the Writer.

GUNBOAT SERIES. 6 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $6.00 Frank the Young Naturalist. Frank before Vicksburg. Frank on a Gunboat. Frank on the Lower Mississippi. Frank in the Woods. Frank on the Prairie.

ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00 Frank Among the Rancheros. Frank in the Mountains. Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho.

SPORTSMAN'S CLUB SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.75 The Sportsman's Club in the Saddle. The Sportsman's Club The Sportsman's Club Afloat. Among the Trappers.

FRANK NELSON SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.75 Snowed up. Frank in the Forecastle. The Boy Traders.

BOY TRAPPER SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00 The Buried Treasure. The Boy Trapper. The Mail Carrier.

ROUGHING IT SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00 George in Camp. George at the Fort. George at the Wheel.

ROD AND GUN SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00 Don Gordon's Shooting Box. The Young Wild Fowlers. Rod and Gun Club.

GO-AHEAD SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00 Tom Newcombe. Go-Ahead. No Moss.

WAR SERIES. 6 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $6.00 True to His Colors. Marcy the Blockade-Runner. Rodney the Partisan. Marcy the Refugee. Rodney the Overseer. Sailor Jack the Trader.

HOUSEBOAT SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00 The Houseboat Boys. The Mystery of Lost River Canon. The Young Game Warden.

AFLOAT AND ASHORE SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00 Rebellion in Dixie. A Sailor in Spite of Himself. The Ten-Ton Cutter.

THE PONY EXPRESS SERIES. 3 vol. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00 The Pony Express Rider. The White Beaver. Carl, The Trailer.

THE END