Part 2

The chief nodded his head, but a chorus of "ughs" expressed the dissent of his council. They meant to decide the fate of old Two Knives without delay. Three of the older braves still insisted upon arguing the case one after the other, and by the time the last of them ceased speaking, Murray felt pretty safe about To-la-go-to-de. He said to himself: "The old fox has half an hour the start of them now. He is miles and miles away."

Just then Many Bears turned to him with: "What say now? Any words?"

"No. Never speak twice. Apaches do what think best."

"Ugh! Good. Young braves, bring out Lipans. No wait. Kill them all right away."

Prisoners such as these were likely to be a troublesome burden to a party on the march, like that of Many Bears, and the only real question before the council was, after all, in what precise manner the killing should be done.

But while they were talking a great cry arose from the vicinity of the lodge where the Lipans had been shut up--a cry of surprise, anger, and disappointment. And then the word spread over the whole camp like wild-fire, "The Lipans are gone!"

It was almost beyond belief, and there was a general rush toward the row of lodges and beyond them, into the bushes and through the corral. It came very near stampeding every pony there, and every trace of anything like a "trail" left by the feet of Two Knives and his warriors was quickly trampled out. The only "sign" found by anybody was in the shape of more than a dozen thongs of buckskin lying on the ground in the lodge, all clean cut through with a sharp knife. That told plainly how the prisoners had escaped. The braves who had searched and tied them were positive that not one of them retained a knife, or was left in a condition to make any use of one. They must have had help from somebody, but it was a great mystery who that somebody could be. Suspicion might have fallen upon Murray and Steve, but it was well known that the latter had remained in his lodge, refusing even to look at the prisoners, while Send Warning had been in council with the chiefs. They believed they knew where he had been all the while, and none of them imagined that Two Knives had been set free before he had lain in that "prison lodge" three minutes. It was a terrible mortification; but something must be done, and again Murray was asked for advice.

"What do I think? Let me ask you a question. Did the Lipans go away on foot?"

"Ugh! No. Take good horse."

"Did they have any arms? Gun? lance? bow?"

"Ugh! No. Think not."

"They are cunning warriors. Did they ride out among your young men? Send Warning says they would do just what great Apache chief would do."

"Ugh! Good. Pale-face chief very wise. Lipans go all way round. Like snake. Only one thing for us to do. Catch 'em when they come to pass."

"Better ride now," said Murray. "Send Warning and Knotted Cord will ride with Apache braves. No time lose. Want fresh horse."

He afterward explained to Steve that a little seeming activity on their part was needful at that moment of excitement, lest anything unpleasant should be said about them. Besides, he had no fear of any further collision with the Lipans. The night was too far gone for that, and he had great confidence in the courage and skill of old Two Knives.

In less than twenty minutes after he had given his advice, he and Steve Harrison, mounted on fresh mustangs chosen for them from the corral by Red Wolf himself, were riding across the ford at the head of a strong squad of Apache warriors, commanded by a chief of well-known skill and prowess.

"They will pick up plenty more on the way, Steve, but they won't have much to do."

"No danger of their catching old Two Knives?"

"Not a bit. I'll tell you all about it some other time."

"I've something to tell you, Murray; I can't keep it."

"Out with it, my boy."

"That white daughter of old Many Bears can speak English. She understood what I said, and answered me."

It was dark, or Steve would have seen that the face of his friend grew as white as his hair, and then flushed and brightened with a great and sudden light.

For a moment he was silent, and then he said, in a deep, husky voice,

"Don't say any more about it to me, Steve. Not till I speak to you again. I'm in an awful state of mind to-night."

Steve had somehow made up his mind to that already, but he was saved the necessity of saying anything in reply.

Red Wolf rode closer to him at the moment, and said,

"Knotted Cord is young. Been on war-path before?"

"Say yes, Steve," muttered Murray.

"Yes, I'm young. Seen a good deal, though. Many war-paths."

"What tribe strike?"

"Lipans, Comanches, Mexicans. Followed some Pawnees once. They got away."

Red Wolf's whole manner told of the respect he felt for a young brave who had already been out against the fiercest warriors of the Indian country. He would have given a good many ponies to have been able to say as much for himself.

* * * * *

The position chosen by the Lipans was a strong one, and the scattered shots which now and then came from the mouth of the pass told that the beaten warriors of To-la-go-to-de were wide awake and ready to defend themselves.

But for one thing that end of the pass would have been already vacant. The pride of the Lipans forbade their running further without at least an effort to learn what had become of their chief. They felt that they could never look their squaws in the face again unless they could explain that point.

To be sure, it was almost a hopeless case, and the Apaches would be upon them in the morning, but they waited.

Everything seemed to be growing darker, and the outlying Lipan sentinels were not in any fault that four men on horseback should get so near them undiscovered. It was very near, and the new-comers must have known there was danger in it, for one of them suddenly put his hand to his mouth and uttered a fierce, half-triumphant war-whoop. It was the well-known battle cry of To-la-go-to-de himself, and it was answered by a storm of exulting shouts from the warriors among the rocks. Their chief had escaped!

That was true, and it was a grand thing, but he had brought back with him only three men of his "front rank."

The Apaches could hear the whooping, and the foremost of them deemed it wise to fall back a little. Whatever their enemies might be up to, they were men to be watched with prudence as well as courage.

The words of To-la-go-to-de when he joined his friends were few. There was no further account to be made of Captain Skinner and his miners, he told them. They were cunning, and they had taken care of themselves. It had been well to plunder their camp. He himself owed his safety to their old friend No Tongue, and the Lipans must never forget him. The Yellow Head had probably been killed, and they would not see him again. They must now gather all their horses and other plunder, and push their retreat as far as possible before morning. Some other time they would come and strike the Apaches, but it was "bad medicine" for them just now.

Whatever else that may have meant, according to Indian superstition, every warrior could understand that their losses had weakened them too much to think of fighting another hard battle. It was no disgrace to make a great deal of haste under such circumstances, and so, if Red Wolf and the rest had been near enough at that hour, they would have seen Two Knives and what was left of his band riding steadily on, deeper and deeper in among the mountains.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A BUFFALO HUNT IN SOUTH AFRICA.

I had been hunting from break of day, and although I had seen a number of antelopes and other animals interesting to a sportsman, they were so wild that it was impossible to come within fair shooting range. Moreover, I had the misfortune to be mounted on a very slow horse, which had only sufficient speed to be useful in the chase of elephants. It was, nevertheless, very steady, and stanch as a rock, making it invaluable in pursuit of the latter game.

After I had been quiet for a few hours during the heat of the day, a Bushman came to me with the information that there was a large herd of buffalo close at hand.

As meat was much wanted, I hastened the saddling, and hurriedly departed for the scene of action, with the Bushman as guide, leaving word for the rest of my followers to come after me as soon as possible.

The country was beautiful in this locality. There was a large flat expanse covered with grass, in parts extremely rank, and dotted over here and there with scattered trees, while at intervals of half a mile or more kopjies--an immense jumble of rocks--would crop up to the height of several hundred feet. These masses of rock deserve a word of notice, for they are a peculiar feature of tropical South Africa. Invariably they are composed of a brilliant red sandstone, or of a rusty brown metallic-looking formation, and from their detached and broken positions induce the beholder to think that some powerful volcanic force had shoved them up to their present elevated position.

Strange as it may appear, they are ever covered with a considerable amount of vegetation, particularly wild fig, some varieties of palms, and numerous descriptions of creepers, although it is utterly impossible that there can be any soil or moisture about their roots.

To see the setting or rising sun glinting off these masses of rock is a sight never to be forgotten, for every corner or cranny seems to be possessed of jewels of most wonderful brilliancy that reflect every shade of light possessed by the rainbow.

The buffaloes were soon found, and with a due amount of caution I succeeded in approaching within thirty paces of a very fine young but full-grown bull. The better to make sure of my aim, I dismounted, and gave the game both barrels from my eight-bore. The thud, thud, in response told me that they had hit, while a stagger forward and attempt to lie down said that they had been well placed.

My horse, which was behind an ant-hill, on which grew numerous bushes, I now left, and walked up to the buffalo, which I did not for a moment doubt would never regain its legs. But in this I was mistaken, for no sooner did the wounded beast see me than it recovered its legs, and without hesitation dashed at me. Both barrels I again delivered, at less than fifteen paces.

Still the foe came on; so at last I was compelled to resort to the undignified course of turning on my heels and beating a most rapid retreat. I felt convinced that my pursuer had his speed impeded by the wounds he had received, for I gained the ant-hill and clambered up it, but not before his horns were in unpleasant nearness to my person. But here I was safe, for although the buffalo again and again attempted to climb its steep sides, he utterly failed. At length the horse caught his eye, and on him he now sought to vent his wrath, but the old steed simply cantered or trotted, as occasion demanded, round my asylum.

I think it could scarcely have been possible to have witnessed a more ridiculous scene, for my mount would not be driven off, nor would the bull give up the chase. I had now time to load, and, waiting for a clear broadside shot, I tumbled Mr. Buff over in his tracks. Immediately the shot was fired, the old horse actually turned round to see the result, then walked up to the fallen foe, and examined him, as if with the eye of an experienced judge in shooting matters.

I have killed a great many buffalo with one bullet; seldom have I required more than two. But, from some unexplainable cause, you will occasionally come across an animal that it appears impossible to deprive of life, although your shooting looks, when inspecting the body, to have been perfectly correct.

PEOPLE WE HEAR ABOUT.

WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE.

The greatest English statesman of the time is by descent a Scotchman, his father having removed from Scotland to Liverpool, in England, where he became a wealthy merchant, and where in 1809 his second son, William, was born.

At his first school the young Gladstones (as the name then was) was considered very stupid at arithmetic; but he must soon have overcome this failing, for at the University of Oxford he took the highest honors in mathematics as well as in classical studies, and as a statesman he has handled the enormous revenues of the British Empire with wonderful skill.

At twenty-three years of age Mr. Gladstone became a member of Parliament, and during the half-century that has elapsed since that time he has only been without a seat in the House of Commons for a few months. At thirty-four he became a member of the cabinet, and in every succeeding cabinet, when the Liberal party has been in power, he has had a seat.

He has twice been Prime Minister--an office which can be held only so long as the Minister is supported by a majority of the members of the House. This office he still holds; and though he is said to be anxious to retire from public life, he is so far superior to any other statesman in the Liberal party that he must remain at its head as long as health and strength will permit.

Although he is now seventy-two years of age, Mr. Gladstone is still a young man so far as work is concerned. It is said that he does the work of two men, and as if to prove the fact, he holds two offices in the government of which he is the head.

He is a powerful speaker, and has frequently spoken in Parliament, and once in the open air, for four hours without a break. The fact that he held the attention of his listeners for so long a time is the highest tribute to his powers as an orator.

When Mr. Gladstone wants rest, he reads Homer in the original Greek or writes a book, and for recreation he cuts down trees in his beautiful park at Hawarden, in Wales. Abraham Lincoln in his youth was a rail-splitter; Mr. Gladstone in the fullness of his years is an expert lumberer.

A BATTLE OF ICEBERGS.

BY DAVID KER.

"Well, Jack, my boy, d'ye see anythin'? Keep a bright lookout, you know, for we all looks to _you_!"

"Come, don't make fun o' me, Bob! P'raps I'll have as sharp eyes as yourn afore I'm half your size."

Anybody might well have wondered to hear a child's voice speaking from the mast-head of a North Sea whaler, and still more surprised would he have been at sight of the figure from which that voice proceeded.

There were two persons in the "crow's-nest," as the lookout post of a whaler is called. This is simply a big cask firmly lashed to the mast with small ropes, and supported by two pieces of stout planking.

One of the two watchers on this occasion was a grim old sailor, with a voice as harsh as his face, which, roughened by the storms of fifty years, and framed in short iron-gray hair and whiskers, looked very much like the battered figure-head of some weather-worn old ship. His companion was a little boy of ten, whose fair hair and round ruddy face appeared quite babyish beside the granite-hewn visage of the "old salt."

But young as he looked, Jack Raikes was no baby. Those blue eyes of his were as sharp as any on board; and to run up the weather-rigging in a stiff breeze, climb to the mast-head and hang his cap on it, was mere play to "little Jack," as the sailors affectionately called him.

"So, my lad," said Bob Watson, laughing, "you thinks your eyes'll be as good as mine afore long. Well, you're a sharp-sighted 'un for your age, you are, but I don't know as how you're quite up to _me_ yet. Come, s'pose we tries which'll sight a whale fust?"

But the smile suddenly vanished from the old sea-man's face, as a gleam of sunshine fades into a rising cloud. He arched his hand over his eyes, and gazed fixedly to the northward, his look becoming graver and graver with every moment, until Jack was quite startled.

"What's up, Bob? Anything wrong?"

"Can't say yet, lad, but I'm afeard so. Let's have another look. Yes, it's just as I thought. God help us!"

And putting both hands to his mouth, he shouted at the top of his voice:

"Deck, ahoy! Look out for _ice_!"

The men, who were lying idly about the deck, sprang to their feet at once, and there was a sudden bustle which showed that the warning had been heard and understood.

"Where away?" hallooed the Captain.

"Right ahead--two on 'em--bearin' down upon us!"

The Captain's hard mouth set itself a little tighter, but that was all. He threw a quick glance to windward, and then shouted to the steersman, "Keep her away a point or two!"

"Ay, ay, sir!"

There was no sign of fear in either Captain or crew--only a grave, subdued look on every face, which showed that they fully understood their danger, although it could not terrify them. And yet the peril was one which might well have dismayed the bravest man alive. Once caught between the two approaching mountains of ice, the vessel would be crushed like an egg-shell, and she and all her crew sent to the bottom together. Nor did there seem to be much chance of escape. The wind was light, and what little there was of it was driving the ship straight toward the icebergs as they drifted with the current. Unless they should change their course, or the wind shift suddenly, the doom of both ship and crew appeared certain.

Little Jack had caught sight of the advancing masses almost as soon as his old friend, and the sudden paling of his ruddy cheeks showed how fully he understood the situation. He looked wistfully up in Bob's face, as if to ask whether there was any hope for them, and the old sailor, mindful of his little pet even in the teeth of that deadly peril, answered, as cheerily as ever: "Well, Jack, my son, them two lubbers is a-tryin' hard to outmanoover us, ain't they? But you jist see if we don't git the weather-gauge on 'em yet!"

By this time the icebergs were near enough to be plainly visible from the deck, and the sudden chilling of the air by their approach, like the coldness of coming death, was felt by every man on board. Onward they came, those great cathedrals of frost, slowly, steadily, mercilessly, like the march of a destroying army.

And all the while the sea around them was blue and bright, and the sun shone brilliantly in a cloudless sky, and the great battlements of ice glowed like living rainbows with every variety of gorgeous coloring--blue, red, green, and gold. And so, with all the beauty and splendor of life around them, the doomed men stood silently awaiting death.

Old Bob set his teeth hard, and pressed his hand firmly upon little Jack's shoulder.

"'Tain't for myself as I minds it," he muttered, "for my time's pretty nigh up; but it _do_ seem hard for this little chap to be cut off in his fust blossomin' like. If my life could go for hisn, God knows I'd give it gladly."

And now, as if to destroy the last chance of escape, her terrible assailants parted suddenly, the one bearing down upon her port and the other upon her starboard quarter, as if to shut her in between them. Even the iron-nerved Captain changed color, and flung down his speaking-trumpet in despair. But just as all hope seemed gone, the long-hoped-for shift of the wind came.

"Starboard your helm!--starboard!" roared the Captain, instantly.

"Starboard it is."

One quick turn of the helm, and the vessel glided past the nearest berg, so close that one of the projecting ice points scraped her taffrail. Even that slight contact with the mighty mass made her whole frame quiver from stem to stern; but the danger was past, and the crew breathed freely once more.

"Now, my boys," shouted the youngest of the men, "stand by and see them two have it out by theirselves."

It was even so. The two destroyers, balked of their prey, were rushing straight upon each other. The wind had lulled again as if holding its breath for the coming battle, and all was as still as death, when the two moving mountains clashed together.

There came a crash to which the loudest thunder would have been as nothing, and the smooth sea boiled up into huge waves, dashing the vessel about like a toy, while the very air was darkened with flying splinters of ice. When the rush passed, the contending icebergs were seen to be at some distance, swaying dizzily to and fro like two living combatants reeling under a heavy stroke.

"At it again, old fellers!" cried young Simmonds; "that first bout don't count neither way."

Again came the terrible shock, followed by a fierce, grinding crash, as a huge pinnacle of ice, heavy enough to sink a hundred-gun ship, fell thundering into the sea.

"Port your helm!--port!" shouted the Captain.

"Port it is," answered the steersman, coolly, and the vessel sheered off.

She was not a moment too soon. Hardly had she got clear when the nearest iceberg was seen to lurch heavily forward. For an instant it rocked violently to and fro, and then plunged down into the sea, with a noise that might have been heard for miles.[2] The billows cast up by its fall tossed the strong ship aloft like a feather, flinging all the crew upon their faces; and for a moment sea and sky were all one blinding whirl of foam.

[2] This is a common occurrence in the Northern seas, and usually attributed to the melting away of the iceberg from below.

There was a moment of awful silence, when nothing could be heard but the groaning of the ship's timbers and the awful roar of the waves.

Then, as the frightened men rose to their feet, Bill Simmonds cried out, "We ain't dead this time, anyway."

But old Bob Watson drew little Jack to his side, and whispered to him:

"Jack, lad, when ye say yer prayers to-night, don't forget to thank God for savin' us, for if 'twasn't for that shift o' wind, all our lives warn't worth _that_."

AN OLD-FASHIONED AMUSEMENT.

In by-gone days it was quite the fashion for learned and clever people to amuse themselves by forming anagrams on the names of their acquaintances or on those of the celebrated public men. Isaac Disraeli, father of the late Lord Beaconsfield, mentions the custom in his book about the _Curiosities of Literature_.

It was considered a delicate compliment to send an anagram to your friend. One polite Frenchman, a poet, as it happened, sent his lady-love, whose name was Magdelaine, a budget containing no less than three dozen quaint and witty anagrams.

And now perhaps you would like me to tell you what an anagram is, and how it is made. It is a simple playing with letters. You take any word or sentence, and you make other words and sentences from it, using all the letters in the original, and changing them about as you please, so long as you make sense, but not using any others. You may not omit an _a_ or an _o_ which chances to be in your way, and you may not borrow a _t_ or an _s_ from the rest of the alphabet to help you out of a puzzle. You must use only the letters in the name you have selected.

Galenus transposed becomes Angelus. I ought to tell you here that there are exceptions to the rule requiring you to use only the letters given in any name. In old times _i_, _j_, _u_, _v_, _w_, and sometimes _c_ and _k_, were changed around by people to suit their own convenience, and so, rather than lose the making of a very good anagram, you may take some liberties with those particular letters.

On a rainy spring evening, when you are all at home together, it would be charming to try this antiquated game of wit. Get out the sheets of note-paper and the pens, and let everybody help. I would not be astonished if even grandpa were to take a share in the fun.

Let me give you some illustrations. Queen Elizabeth was noted during her long reign for her wise government at home, and her courage in defying her enemies of other lands. She was always surrounded by courtiers who liked to please her, and in her day it was thought more elegant to write in Latin than in plain English. One of the noblemen made this anagram one day after dinner:

Elizabetha Regina AngliƦ-- Anglis Agna, HiberiƦ Lea.