CHAPTER LIX.

AND LAST.

"But," queried Walter Parks, when question and comment had been exhausted, "are you sure that we have, even now, evidence enough to convict Krutzer, or Francoise, as you call him?"

"He has called himself Francoise from the day he and his worthy wife left the wagon-train," rejoined Stanhope. "He has never been Krutzer since. As for proof, we shall not lack that; but I think the old villain, if he lives to come to trial, will plead guilty. His wife possesses all the courage; he is cunning enough, but cowardly. He will not be allowed to see or consult with her; and free from her influence, he can be made to confess. Besides, the old woman has been wearing about her person a belt, which, if I am not mistaken, is the one stolen from the body of Arthur Pearson. It is of peculiar workmanship, and evidently very old. It contains papers and money."

"If it is Pearson's belt," interposed Walter Parks, "I can identify it, and so could some others of the party if--"

"Was a certain Joe Blakesley a member of your band?" asked the Chief quickly.

"Yes."

"And could he identify this belt?"

"He could."

"Then Vernet has done something; he has found this Blakesley."

"Where?" asked the Englishman, eagerly.

"In California."

"Good!" cried Stanhope; "Van shall have the full benefit of his discovery."

And in the final summing-up, he did have the benefit, not only of this, his one useful exploit, but of all Stanhope's magnanimity. Through his intercession, Vernet was retained in the service he had abused; but he was never again admitted to the full confidence of his Chief, nor trusted with unlimited power, as of old. The question of supremacy was decided, and to all who knew the true inwardness of their drawn battle Richard Stanhope was "the Star of the force."

In regard to Papa Francoise, as we will still call him, Stanhope had judged aright.

He was possessed of wondrous cunning, and all his instincts were evil, but he lacked the one element that, sometimes, makes a successful villain: he was an utter coward. Deprived of the stimulus of the old woman's fierce temper and piercing tongue, he cowered in his cell, and fell an easy victim to his inquisitors. He was wild with terror when confronted by the girl Nance, risen, as it seemed to him, from the grave to denounce him. And when, after Nance had withdrawn, he faced Stanhope and his Chief, Walter Parks and John Ainsworth, he was as wax in their hands.

Up to that moment the name of Arthur Pearson, and that long-ago tragedy of the prairies, had not been mentioned, and Papa believed that the killing of Siebel, with, perhaps, the stealing of little Daisy, were, in the eyes of the law, his only crimes. But when Walter Parks stood forth and pierced him through and through with his searching eyes, Papa recognized him at once, and fairly shrieked with fear.

And when he learned from Richard Stanhope, how Franz Francoise met his death, and that it was his son's dying words which condemned him, he threw himself before his accusers in a paroxysm of abject terror, and confessed himself the murderer they already knew him to be.

But Mamma was made of other timber. When consigned to her cell, she was silent and sullen until, in compliance with Stanhope's instructions, they attempted to take from her the belt she wore. Then her rage was terrible, and her resistance damaging to the countenances and garments of those who sought to control her.

She received Richard Stanhope with such a burst of fury, that restraint became necessary; and even when she sat bound and helpless before her accusers, her struggles were furious, and her imprecations, shrieked out between frothing lips, were horrible to hear.

When she saw Walter Parks, she seemed to guess why he was there. And when she knew all: that Franz Francoise was surely dead, and how he died; that Papa had confessed everything; that John Ainsworth had come back to claim his daughter, and lavish upon her his love and fortune--her ravings broke out afresh. She was frightful to see, and dangerous to all who ventured to approach. So they treated her as a mad woman, and for many days Mamma hurled unheard imprecations at her cowardly spouse, and cursed Richard Stanhope, arrayed in a strait-jacket.

But she was non-committal, baffling, from first to last. She would admit nothing, explain nothing, confess nothing. She defied them all.

* * * * *

On the following morning, at the Warburton Mansion, a happy group assembled to hear, from Mr. Follingsbee, all that was not already known to them of Stanhope's story.

How it was told, let the reader, who knows all, and knows Mr. Follingsbee, imagine.

Leslie was there, fair and pale, robed once more in the soft, rich garments that so well became her. Alan was there, handsome and humble. He had made, so far as he could in words, manly amends to Leslie, and she had forgiven him freely at last. Winnie too, was there, obstinately avoiding Alan's glance, and keeping close to Leslie. Mrs. French was there, smiling and motherly. And little Daisy was there, the centre of their loving glances.

In her childish way, the little one had told all that she could of her captivity.

She had gone to sleep upon the balcony of her Papa's house and in the arms of "Mother Goose." She had awakened in a big, dark room, whose windows were tightly shuttered, and where she could see nothing but a tiny bit of sky. A negress, who frightened her very much, had brought her food, and sat in the room sometimes. She had been lonely, terrified, desolate.

The little that she could tell threw no light upon the mystery of her hiding-place, but it was all that they ever knew.

"I used to pray and pray," said Daisy, "but God didn't seem to hear me at all. And when I woke in that little room that smelled so bad--it was worse than the other--I just felt I must _make_ God hear, so I prayed, oh, so loud, and then the door broke in, and that nice, funny man picked me up, and there was Mamma; and only think! God might have let me out long before if I had only prayed loud enough."

When Leslie learned her own story, and was brought face to face with her father, her cup of joy was full indeed. She was at anchor at last, with some one to love her beyond all others; with some one to love and to render happy.

"Oh," she said, "to know that my dear adopted parents were after all my own kindred; my uncle and my aunt! What caprice of their evil natures prompted those wretches to do me this one kindness?"

"They knew where to find the Ulimans," said her father, "and knew that they were wealthy. It was the easiest way to dispose of you."

"I suppose so," she assented, sighing as she thought of those dear ones dead; smiling again as she looked in the face of her new-found father.

In the present confidence, the happiness and peace, that surrounded her, Winnie French could not continue her perverse _role_, nor, indeed, was Alan the man to permit it. She had let him see into her heart, in that moment when he had seemed in such deadly peril, and he smiled down her pretty after-defiance.

"You shall not recant," he said laughingly; "for your own sake, I dare not allow it. A young woman who so rashly espouses the cause of a swain, simply because he has the prospect of a pair of handcuffs staring him in the face, is unreliable, sadly out of balance. She needs a guardian and I--"

"Need an occupation," retorted Winnie, maliciously. "Don't doom yourself to gray hairs, sir; repent."

"It's too late," he declared; and they ceased to argue the question.

* * * * *

They would have _feted_ Stanhope and made much of him at Warburton Place, for Alan did not hesitate to pronounce such a man the peer of any. But the young detective was perversely shy.

He came one day, and received Leslie's thanks and praises, blushing furiously the while, and conducting himself in anything but a courageous manner. Once he accepted Alan's invitation to a dinner, in which the Follingsbees, Mr. Parks and Mr. Ainsworth participated. But he took no further advantages of their cordially-extended hospitality, and he went about his duties, not quite the same Dick Stanhope as of yore.

On her part, Leslie was very reticent when Stanhope and his exploits were the subject of discussion, although, when she spoke of him, it was always as the best and bravest of men.

"Parks talks of returning to England," said her father one day at luncheon, "and he wants Stanhope to go with him."

"Will he go?" asked Alan, in a tone of interest.

"I hope not; at least not until I have time to bring him to his senses."

"Why, Papa!" ejaculates Leslie.

"Has our Mr. Stanhope lost his senses, uncle?" queries little Daisy anxiously.

"You shall judge, my dear. He has refused, with unyielding firmness, to accept from me anything in token of my gratitude for the magnificent service he has rendered us."

"And," added Alan, "he has refused my overtures with equal stubbornness."

"But he has accepted the splendid reward promise by Mr. Parks, has he not?" queries Mrs. French.

"That, of course; he was bound to do that," said Mr. Ainsworth, discontentedly. "And in some way I must make him accept something from me. Leslie, my dear, can't you manage him?"

"I fear not, Papa." And Leslie blushed as she caught Winnie's laughing eye fixed upon her. "I don't think Mr. Stanhope is a man to be managed."

"Nonsense, Leslie," cries Winnie. "He's afraid of a woman; he blushes when you speak to him."

"Did he blush," queried Leslie maliciously, "when you embraced him that night of the masquerade?"

In the midst of their laughter, Winnie was mute.

* * * * *

One day, some weeks after the _denouement_, Stanhope, sauntering down a quiet street, met Van Vernet.

"Stop, Van," he said, as the other was about to pass; "don't go by me in this unfriendly fashion, if only for appearance's sake. How do you get on?"

"As usual," replied Vernet indifferently, and looking Stanhope steadily in the face. "And you? somehow you look too sober for a man who holds all the winning-cards."

"I don't hold all the winning-cards, Van. Indeed, I'm inclined to think that I've lost more than I've won."

Vernet continued to regard him steadily and after a moment of silence, he said quietly:

"Look here, Dick, I'm not prepared to say that I quite forgive you for outwitting me--I don't forgive myself for being beaten--but one good turn deserves another, and you did me a very good turn at the end. You've won a great game, but I'm afraid you are going to close it with a blunder."

"A blunder, Van?"

"Yes, a blunder. You have devoted yourself, heart and soul, to a pretty woman, and you are just the man to fall in love with her."

"Take care, Van."

"Oh, I know what I am saying. On the day of our meeting at Warburton Place--the last meeting, I mean, when you figured as Franz Francoise--I saw what you missed. You may think that I was hardly in a state of mind for taking observations, but, in truth, my senses were never more intensely alert than while I stood there dumbly realizing the overthrow of all my plans. And I saw love, unmistakable love, shining upon you from a woman's eyes."

"Van, you are mad!"

"Not at all. It's a natural termination to such an affair. Why, man, you are deservedly a hero in her eyes. Don't be overmodest, Dick. If you care for this woman, you can win her."

He turned with these words, passed his amazed listener, and walked on. And Stanhope resumed his saunter, looking like a man in a dream.

That evening he made his first voluntary call at Warburton place.

* * * * *

Alan and Winnie, two months later, were married, and Stanhope was among the wedding-guests.

"Warburton Place will have a new mistress, Mr. Stanhope," Leslie said to him. "I am going to abdicate in Winnie's favor."

"Entirely, Mrs. Warburton?"

"Entirely; I have fought it out, and I have conquered, after a hard struggle. Alan and Winnie, when they return, will reign here. Papa and I are already preparing our new home. We shall not be far away, and we will divide Daisy between us."

Later in the evening, Mrs. Follingsbee captured him and inquired:

"Have you heard Leslie's last bit of Quixotism?"

"No, madam."

"She has made this house over to Winnie as a bridal gift. And every dollar of her husband's legacy she has set aside for Daisy Warburton."

"I'm glad of it," blurted out Stanhope; and then he colored hotly and bit his lips.

When Alan and his fair little bride were installed as master and mistress of Warburton Place, Leslie and her father received their friends in a new home. It was not so large as the mansion Leslie had "abdicated;" not so grand and stately; but it was elegant, dainty, homelike.

"It suits me better," said Leslie to Stanhope. "The other was too grand. Winnie can throw upon her mother the burden of its stateliness, and Mrs. French will make a charming dowager. I am going to leave my past behind in the old home; and begin a new life in this."

"Are you going to leave me behind, with the rest of your past?" he asked.

"No," she said smilingly, "you have not lost your value; and if I should turn you out, fresh troubles would arise. I should have to contend with Daisy, and Papa too."

And indeed Daisy had given him a prominent place in her affections.

"Some of my friends," he said after a pause, "are advising me to abandon the Agency, and embark in some quieter enterprise."

"Do you mean that they wish you to give up your profession? to cease to be a detective?"

"Yes."

"And what did you answer?"

"I am seeking advice; give it me."

"Any man may be a tradesman," she said slowly. "Nine tenths of mankind can be or are doctors, lawyers, clergymen. The men who possess the skill, the sagacity, and the courage to do what you have done, what you can do again, are very few. To restore lost little ones; to reunite families; to bring criminals to justice, and to defeat injustice,--what occupation can be nobler! If I were such a detective as you, I would never cease to exercise my best gifts."

"I never will," he said, taking her hand in his.

* * * * *

Months passed on; winter went and summer came. Walter Parks lingered in America, his society dearly valued by John Ainsworth and Mr. Follingsbee, his presence always a welcome one in Leslie's dainty parlors, and at Warburton Place. Winnie, who had been a saucy sweetheart and piquant bride, had become a sweetly winsome wife. John Ainsworth was renewing his youth; and Leslie, having passed the period of her widowhood, once more opened her doors to society.

Richard Stanhope had become a frequent and welcome guest at Leslie's home, and all his visits little Daisy appropriated at once to herself. Indeed she and Stanhope stood upon a wondrously confidential footing.

"Next month comes Mamma's birthday," said Daisy to him one day, when she sat upon his knee in Leslie's pretty flower-decked room. "We're going to have a festival, and give her lots of presents. Are you going to give her a present, Mr. Stanhope?"

"I don't know," he said, looking over at Leslie; "your Mamma is such a very particular lady, Daisy, that she might be too proud to accept my offering."

"Why," cried the child, "that's just what Uncle Ainsworth says about you: that you are too proud to take a gift from him, and it vexes him, too."

"Daisy, Daisy!" cried Leslie, holding up a warning finger.

"Your uncle is a very unreasonable man, Daisy," laughed Stanhope. "Now tell me, do you think I had better offer your Mamma a birthday present?"

"Why"--and Daisy opened wide her blue eyes--"Uncle Alan says that everybody who loves Mamma will remember her birthday. Don't you love my Mamma?"

"Yes," said Stanhope slowly, and fixing his eyes upon Leslie's face, "I love her very much."

Leslie's cheeks were suffused with blushes, and she sat quite silent, with downcast eyes.

"Daisy," said Stanhope, putting the child down quickly, "go to your uncle Ainsworth, and tell him that I have changed my mind; that I want the best part of his fortune. Run, dear."

And as the child flew from the room, he rose and stood before Leslie.

"If your father yields to my demand," he said softly, "what will be your verdict?"

A moment of stillness. Then she lifts her brown eyes to his, a smile breaking through her blushes.

"A man of your calling," she said, "should have guessed that long ago!"

* * * * *

Papa Francoise never came to trial. His terror overcame his reason, and in his insanity he did what he never would have found the courage to do had he retained his senses. He hanged himself in his prison cell.

But Mamma lived on. Through her trial she raved and cursed; and she went to a life-long imprisonment raving and cursing still. Her viciousness increased with her length of days. She was the black sheep of the prison. Nothing could break her temper or curb her tongue. She was feared and hated even there. Hard labor, solitary confinement, severe punishment, all failed, and she was at last confined in a solitary cell, to rave out her life there and fret the walls with her impotent rage.

Millie, the faithful incompetent, remained in Leslie's service until she went to a home of her own, bestowed upon her by a good-looking and industrious young mechanic.

Nance, the one-time drunkard, became the object of Leslie's pitying care, and did not relapse into her former poverty and evil habits.

The Follingsbees, the Warburtons--all these who had been drawn together by trials and afflictions--remained an unbroken coterie of friends, who never ceased to chant Stanhope's praises.

And little Daisy passed the years of her childhood in the firm belief that,

"God will do anything you want him to, if you only pray loud enough."

THE END.

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=CONTENTS.=--The Lovers' Meeting. The Serpent In Eden. A Sudden Departure. What the Old Tree Revealed. Two Heartless Plotters. The Story of a Mother's Wrongs and a Husband's Crimes. Turns her Back on the Old Home, and Trusts the Future and Lucian Davlin. Nurse Hagar is "Out of Sorts." Madeline Defies her Enemies. "_You are her Murderer!_" The Railway Station at Night. A Disappointed Schemer Rejoiced. Madeline's Flight. The Night Journey to New York. A Friendly Warning Unheeded. "Take it; _in the Name of your Mother I ask it_!" Alone in the Great City. A Shrewd Scheme. An Ever-Present Face. Olive Gerard's Warning. The Cruel Awakening. The Bird in a Golden Cage. The Luxurious Apartments of Lucian Davlin, the Man of Luck. A Dissatisfied Servant. The Man of Luck Defied. A Well-Aimed Pistol Shot. "Little Demon, I will kill you before I will lose you now!" Doctor Vaughn Summoned. A Charming Widow at Bellair. "The Danger is Past!" Gone! "When Next we Meet I Shall Have Other Weapons!" Bonnie, Bewitching Claire. A Tell-tale Photograph. "Cruel, Crafty, Treacherous." Madeline and Olive in Conference. "Kitty, the Dancer, will Die!" The Story of an Old Crime Retold. "Percy! Percy! Percy!" A Message from the Dead. "May God's Curse fall on all who Drove her to her Doom!" Miss Arthur's French Maid. Cora Growing Weary of Dissembling. Celine Leroque Overhears an Important Conversation. Mr. Percy startled. Cora Shares this Feeling. Percy Turns the Tables. "And yet you are on the Earth!" Celine Manages to Play the Spy to some Purpose. Cora and Celine Measure Swords. Cora's Cunning Plot. "Celine looked Cautiously about her." An Intercepted Telegram. Face to Face. A Midnight Appointment. "I am Afraid for you; but give It up now? never!" An Irate Spinster. Celine's Highly Probable Story. Gathering Clues. A Hurried Visit. The Hand of Friendship Wields the Surgeon's Knife. Claire Keith Placed Face to Face with Trouble. A Dual Renunciation. An Astonishing Disclosure. "I am not Worthy of him, and _she_ is!" Struggling Against Fate. "Ah, how Dared I think to Become one of you?" A Fiery Fair Champion. Hagar and Cora have a Meeting. Cora gets a Glimmer of a False Light. "To be, to do, to Suffer." A Troubled Spinster. An Aggravating French Maid. "Won't there be a Row in the Castle!" Setting some Snares. Cora and Celine form an Alliance. A Veritable Ghost Awakens Consternation in the Household. "If ever you want to make him feel what it is to Suffer, Hagar will help you!" Doctor Vaughn Visits Bellair. Not a Bad Day's Work. Henry Reveals his Master's Secrets. Claire Turns Circe. A Mysterious Tenant. Celine Hurries Matters a Trifle. The Curtain Rises on the Mimic Stage. Celine Discharged by the Spinster, takes Service with Cora. The Sudden Illness. The Learned "Doctor from Europe." "I am Sorry, very Sorry." The Plot Thickens. A Midnight Conflagration. The Mysterious House in Flames, and its Mysterious Tenant takes Refuge with Claire. The Story of a Wrecked Life. "Well, it is a Strange Business, and a Difficult." Letters from the Seat of War. Mr. Percy Shakes Himself. A Fair Invalid. "Two Handsomer Scoundrels Never Stood at Bay!" A Silken Belt Worth a King's Ransom. A Successful Burglary. Cross Purposes. A Slight Complication. A new Detective on the Scene. Clarence Vaughn seeks to Cultivate him. Bidding High for First-Class Detective Service. "Thou shalt not Serve two Masters" set at naught. Mr. Lord's Letter. Premonitions of a Storm. "The--fellow is Dead!" A Thunderbolt. "I have come back to my own!" A Fair, but Strong. Hand. Cora Restive under Orders. "You--you are----?" "Celine Leroque, Madam." A Madman. A Bogus Doctor Uncomfortable. "Don't you try that, sir!" Lucian Davlin's "Points" are False Beacons. Cora's Humiliation. An Arrival of Sharp-Eyed Well-Borers. Rather Strange Maid Servants. The Cords are Tightening and the Victims Writhe. A Veritable Sphynx. Sleeping with Eyes Open. A Savage Toothache. A Judicious Use of Chloroform. A Bold Break for Freedom. An Omnipresent Well-Borer. "No Nonsense, Mind; I'm not a Flat." "For God's sake, _what_ are you?" "A Witch!" The Doctor's Wooing. Mrs. Ralston Overhears Something. A Fresh Complication. "He is very Handsome; so are Tigers!" An Astounding Revelation. Mrs. Ralston's Story. "No," gasped Olive, "I--I--." A Movement In Force. Cora stirs up the Animals. A Wedding Indefinitely Postponed for Cause. Nipped in the Bud. Ready for Action. "Be at the Cottage to-night." A Plea for Forgiveness. Sharpening the Sword of Fate. The Weight of a Woman's Hand. "Officers, take him; he has been my Prisoner long enough!" "Man, you have been a Dupe, a Fool!" Cora's Confession. "The Pistol is Aimed at Madeline's Heart!" "It Is a Death Wound!" "The Goddess you Worship has Deserted you!" The Death-bed of a Hypocrite. "And then comes Rest!" The World is Clothed in a New White Garment.

"God's greatness shines around our incompleteness, Round our restlessness His rest!"

A SLAVER'S ADVENTURES

ON SEA AND LAND.

By WM. H. THOMES,

Author of "THE GOLD HUNTERS' ADVENTURES IN AUSTRALIA," "THE BUSHRANGERS," "RUNNING THE BLOCKADE," etc., etc.

ILLUSTRATED WITH FORTY ELEGANT ENGRAVINGS.

SOLD ON ALL RAILWAY TRAINS AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.

as I turned, I managed to keep my eyes on the shelf overhead, so that I could note all the movements that took place. I was repaid for my trouble, for as I fell back and pressed my hand on my side, as though fatally wounded, I had the satisfaction of hearing a triumphant laugh issue from the thicket overhead; and the next instant the repulsive features of Moloch were thrust through the branches of the trees, and he seemed to enjoy the appearance which I presented.

"Bah! you fools!" cried the rascal, in a mocking tone, "do yer think that yer can take me? I vos too quick for yer. Had yer come an hour sooner, yer might have caught me nappin'. But now I jist spits at yer. Ah, fools, I has the voman, and I means to keep her."

I seldom miss with a revolver, especially when the object at which I aim is within reasonable distance; but I must confess that I was nervous and full of revengeful feelings, or perhaps I was too hasty; for I suddenly raised my pistol and fired at the fiend who was grinning at me from amid the branches of the balsam trees. I missed the scoundrel, and yet I would have given a thousand dollars to have sent a bullet crushing through his brain, and killed him on the spot.

"Ho, ho! yer didn't come it," laughed the fiend. "Vait a minute and I'll make yer see somethin' that'll open yer eyes."

He disappeared, and while he was gone I changed position, so that he could not single me out for another shot, in case he desired to test his old horse-pistols.

"You ain't hit, is you?" whispered Hackett and Hopeful in anxious tones.

"No," I answered.

Before they could congratulate me, Moloch, the devil, appeared, bearing in his arms the almost lifeless form of poor, dear Amelia Copey, whose dress was torn and soiled, and whose hair was hanging down in tangled masses, neglected and uncared for.

"Look!" yelled the fiend, in a triumphant tone; "'ere's the girl vot I loves, and she vill love me afore long, or I'll know the reason vy."

As he spoke he held the fair form in such a manner that

THE BUSHRANGERS.

_A Yankee's Adventures During His Second Visit to Australia._

BY WM. H. THOMES,

_Author of_ "_The Gold Hunters in Australia_," "_The Bushrangers_," "_Running the Blockade_," _etc., etc._

sides would be equally well guarded, then glanced over the excited crowd, in hopes that Dan would array himself on our side--but that enterprising gentleman had suddenly disappeared, and left us to our fate.

"Stand back," shouted the inspector; "it will be the worse for you. There's many of you present who know me, and know that I have a large force of policemen on hand. If you strike a blow, not one of you shall escape justice.

"Unbar the door as quickly as possible," whispered the inspector, after getting through with his threatening speech.

I lifted the heavy gum wood bar from its place, and then raised the latch, expecting that it would yield, but to my surprise it did not--it was locked, and the key in the pocket of the doorkeeper, who had made his escape from the room in company with Dan.

I almost uttered a groan of agony when I made the discovery, and to add to the perplexity of our situation, the ruffians must have understood our case, and known that the key was never left in the lock, for they uttered a discordant and ironical hoot, and then a shout of sardonic laughter.

"For Heaven's sake, don't be all night in getting that door open," cried Fred, nervously, and I will confess that I also partook of the same complaint.

"Now for a rush--cut them to pieces," exclaimed many voices; but I observed that the cries came from those who were farthest from us, and out of the reach of our pistols, which we were forced to display, in hope of keeping the robbers at a respectful distance.

"Is the door unbarred?" asked Mr. Brown, turning half round, and exposing his side to the knives of the crowd, and quick as thought, a man sprang forward to begin the work of bloodshed; but sudden as were his movements, they were anticipated, for I raised the heavy bar, which I had not relinquished, and let it fall upon his head with crushing force.

The poor devil fell at our feet without uttering a groan, although many spasmodic twitchings of his nerves showed that he was not killed outright. His long knife narrowly missed the side of the inspector, and for the first attempt at our annihilation, it was not to be despised.

The wretches uttered yells of rage when they saw their comrade fall, but none seemed inclined to assume the leadership and begin the attack in earnest.

Not one of their motions escaped us, and as long as they were disposed to brandish their knives at a distance, we did not choose to carry matters to extremities; but change of tactics was suddenly resorted to on the part of our opponents, that placed us in no little peril.

All the tumblers, bottles, and decanters of the bar were taken possession of by the savage scoundrels, and the first intimation that we had of the fact was the crushing of a bottle (empty, of course--they were not the sort of men to throw away liquor of any kind) against the door just above our heads.

The fragments were showered upon our faces and shoulders, before we had time to consider on the matter another bottle flew past my head, and hit our prisoner upon one of his shoulders, injuring

THE GOLD HUNTERS' ADVENTURES;

OR, WILD LIFE IN AUSTRALIA.

=By WM. H. THOMES=, author of "The Bushrangers," "The Gold Hunters in Europe," "A Whaleman's Adventures," "Life in the East Indies," "Adventures on a Slaver," "Running the Blockade," etc., etc.

A FASCINATING STORY OF ADVENTURE.

A Whaleman's Adventures

_AT SEA, IN THE SANDWICH ISLANDS AND CALIFORNIA._

BY WM. H. THOMES,

Author of "THE GOLD HUNTERS' ADVENTURES IN AUSTRALIA," "THE BUSHRANGERS," "RUNNING THE BLOCKADE," etc., etc.

Illustrated with Thirty-Six Fine Engravings.

SOLD ON ALL RAILWAY TRAINS AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.

RUNNING THE BLOCKADE;

OR, U. S. SECRET SERVICE ADVENTURES.

_By WM. H. THOMES, Author of_ "_The Gold Hunters' Adventures in Australia_," "_The Bushrangers_," "_Running the Blockade_," _etc., etc._

ELEGANTLY AND PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED.

The Gold Hunters in Europe

--OR--

THE DEAD ALIVE.

By WM. H. THOMES,

Author of "THE GOLD HUNTERS' ADVENTURES IN AUSTRALIA," "THE BUSHRANGERS," "RUNNING THE BLOCKADE," etc., etc.

Illustrated with FORTY Fine Engravings

SOLD ON ALL RAILWAY TRAINS AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.