Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 May 1891 — CHAPTER XVI. ON THE TRAIL—A DISCOVERY. [ARTICLE]

CHAPTER XVI. ON THE TRAIL —A DISCOVERY.

“Now, dad,” said Chub, as they hastened home, “you go to Speer’s—have the women folks send to the men; tell them they’ll get $lO apiece, and five for all the boys, and the same for every dog they bring. I’ll ride to Ivoggers’, and I’ll get them to send over to Whalley’s—that’s the best plan to get the word round uoon. And mind, everybody’s to make straight for the Corners first After that—and, oh! yes, dad, don’t forget the horns—they must bring horns and keep blowing them. And if they find anything they must fire guns—that's the easiest and best plan I can think of now. ” “1 hat’s the best idea out, Chub.” “Well, make haste, dad. I’ll find Dan before sunset; be sure I will, dad.” “I hope and trust you may,. Chub. ” The neighbors, although living iar apart, soon heard of the rare opportunity to make a considerable sum of money, and at the same time settle for all time the question of the disappearance of Dan In less *tfrah an hour thirty men and as many boys were gathered at the Conners There were a dozen good dogs, and some curs that ought to have been drowned. A number had horns, and everybody had a gun. It was Chub Dawson who issued orders. She did it in such clear terms that n-qtiddy could fail to comprehend just what he had to do. “Dad, I’ll go with Mr. Bash and these boys, and you take the same road you went (Over last night. Now, we are all ready. ” It was thus the quest for the counterfeiters'’ factory was begun in earnest—and rtlae most exciting and thorough search that had yet been made for Dan Bash. It is unnecessary to say that Chub had, with the assistance of Mr. Bash, instructed a number of those heading tthe different little groups to be on the lookout for every sign that indicated the presence, at any time, of a man. All (■•*vices, heavy undergrowth, caves .and great hollow trees were to be examined closely. And everything that seemed like a pit •or strange and unusual depression in the earth was to be examined. Chub still remembered her strange dream. Her lover was lying bound somewhere. Bound by his enemies and left to die, or else some cruel fate had ordered it that nature was responsible for his condition. The horns blew: the sound echoed •over the mountain tops as the search was prosecuted. The dogs' barking assisted the hunters in keeping near each other. “We are taking in a heap of territory in this hunt," said Hank Dawson to his neighbor as they joined each other at the end of an hour. “Yes, indeed; we’re spread out pretty wide. I reckon this is a leetle the biggest swath any hunting party has ever out on any mountains. There’s enough in the seareh now to find every squirrel and snake within five miles of the regular road. Seems as if the whole country’s out now. ” It was true. Either the earnestness displayed by those who heard of the money to be earned or an unaccountable whim seized the poople. Wherever the searchersmoved they were ' quickly joined by others, who spread out until upward of a hundred were engaged in the search, on horseback and afoot. “There! Did you hear that?” It was Hank Dawson, who held his head to one side quickly. “That's a gun. ” “Yes—off to the right. ” “Where would it be. likely?” Hank reflected. “Wei 1 , now, I believe I can locate tha - . If they'd only fire another.” He put a hand up to his ear and nodded. “I thought so. I’ve got it now.” “Where did the sound come from?— these echoes mislead me,” said his neighbor. “Yes—they are misleadin’—but I’ve got the pint—we’ll come to them right . smart now —mind if we don’t.” “There’s another. ” “They must be in a hurrv —a Desky hurry. We’ll make out to get there on time, now, I reckon. ” “But you haven’t told me where it is.” “Oh! I meant to. Why, as near as I can guess, that shootin’ is about the Big Rock.” “I know as much now- as I did afore.” “Humph! Well, there's lots o’ folks round here that ain’t a bit wiser than you be. ” Hank Dawson was urging his horse forward now speedily. His companion

could scareily keep up with him as he made his way through tho forest. Back of them followed two or threo others —men and boys on foot, with dogs yelping and barking. Hank hastily made his way to the point he thought the sounds came from. He called loudly to those near him to follow. These in turn shouted to others and blew their tin horns. In ten minutes, or less time, a considerable number were directly in the rear of Hank Dawson, who pressed on quickly until ho reached a spot that overlooked a considerable expanse of country. This spot was known to the old inhabitants of the county as Baldy. It was a spot that Nature seemed to have left unfinished. The rocks were so large and thiek-*-so heavily piled on top of each other —that they looked like a pile of material tossed down in a heap, in a hurry. The trees would not grow there. Some vines grew around the gray rocks, and a few berries. Tho place had such a lonely, such a dreary, desolate aspect, that mankind abided it The hunter happening that way never did more than glance at tho waste place, shudder as the prospect of plunging into snakes’ dens rose rapidly in his mind, and turn his back cheerfully on Baldy. Even to Hank Dawson the place did not look very inviting. The Big Rock he had spoken of loomed up before him. It was a marvel in height, length and solidity. What seemed to the eye of tho traveler on the road far below a stone as largo as an average log cabin rose sheer, abruptly at least fifty feet Its gray face was wrinkled with tiie wash of untold centuries. The roelcs near it were dwarfed in comparison. Not a living creature was in-sight. “Cur'us, ” said Hank Dawson, “mighty cur'us, this is. I'm certaih that shot came from here. ” As Hank stood looking over Baldy, a group gathered near him. Suddenly there was a shout—a loud voice was heard, fottowed by another in altercation. Then there were sounds of a scuffie. The sounds seemed to come from the base of the big rock. “Blast my cats!” a favorite expletive with Hank Dawson. “I ought to know that voice. ” Then, picking his way carefully among the rocks —they were very thick there where he stood —he added, in a loud voice, to his companions: “Come on, boys—that’s Chub’s gun I heard, I’m pretty sure; and I’m just as sure I heard her voice. ” He pushed on over the stones, and passed around the corner of the big rock on Baldy, when those nearest him heard him utter a sharp exclamation and leap from his horse It was not much wonder. What Hank Dawson beheld was sufficient to stir the blood of more sluggish men. The scene that mot his gaze there on Baldy was talked of years afterward. In the cavity between the enormous rock and a lesser rock at its base in the rear was a rude cabin. The cabin was wholly concealed from the view of those who chanced to come that way. There was but one way to perceive it, and that was by approaching it from the corner of the rock Hank Dawson had approached StEven there the few bushes and vines clambering over the face of the low-lying rocks almost concealed the cabin. Standing where Hank Dawson approached it, his attention was attracted by the flutter of a dress he well knew. Then has eye followed the movements of has daughter, first to a man lying on the ground, next to a man who crouched before the rifle aimed at him. The rifle was in the hands of Chub. The man crouching at the base of a rock was one of the Monks gang. From all other sides the opening between the two rocks was concealed, first by undergrowth, then by rocks tumbled up promiscuously. The roof of the cabin that caught Hank’s eye was formed by placing limbs of trees between the edge ■and side of the small rock and the face of the great gray rock. Hank Dawson’s eye took these details in at a single glance, and then, as I have related, he leaped from Ills horse and sprang toward his daughter, exclaiming: “I’m here, Chub!” [IJ BE CONTINUED.]