Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 28 August 1887 — Page 2

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THE DTDlATAPOIiTS JOEJRAI,. SUNDAYl AUGUST 28, 1887 TWELVE PAGES

Printed by Special Arrangement with Author Copyrighted by Associated Literary Press. TEXAR'SYEVENGE BY JULES VERNE. A Story of the American Civil War.

CHAPTER XV. AFJEK THE CAPTURE. " TEXAR! "-iueh was the well-hated name that Zermah had shouted in the darkness at the moment Mrs. Burbank and Alice reached the bank of Marine Creek. The girl had recognized the Spaniard. There could be no doubt he was the author of the abduction, of which he now took personal charge. It was indeed Texar, and with - him were half a dozen accomplices. For some time he had been planning this expedition, which had for its object the devastation of Camdless Bay, the pillage of Castle House, the ruin of the Burbank family, and the eapture or death of its head. It was with this In view that he had launched his horde of pillagers on to the plantation. But he had not put himself at their head; he had left the task of leading them to a few of the most violent of his partisans, and hence John Bruce was right when he assured James Burbank that Texar was not among the assailants. Texar was aware of the existence of the tunnel between Caetle House and the creek. If the bouse was captured the defenders would evidently try to escape down the tunnel. Taking a boat from Jacksonville, and followed by another boat with Squambo and two of his slaves, he had eome to the creek to watch. He was pot mis- . taken. That be saw at once when he found one of the Camdless Bay boats stationed among the reeds. The blacks in charge of it were surprised, attacked, and strangled. AH that had then to be done was to wait. Soon Zermah appeared, and with her the little girl. Fearing that help might come in answer to Zermah's shouts, the Spaniard had thrown her into Sauambo's arms; and when Mrs. Burbank and Alice appeared on the bank, Zermah was being carried ofE to the middle of the river in the Indian's boat. We know the rest When the prisoners were secured, Texar did sot think it necessary to accompany Squambo, wh was entirely devoted to him, and knew where to take Zermah and Dy, and when the three cannon shots recalled the assailants from storming Castle House, he had struck oft obliquely across the St. John's, and disappeared. Where had he gone? No one knew. He did not return to Jacksonville during the night of the 3d and 4th of March, nor for twenty-four hours afterward. What was the meaning of this strange absence, which he took no trouble to explain 1 No one could tell. But it would be a somewhat compromising circumstance should he be charged with carrying off Dy and Zermah. The coincidence between the abduction and his disappearance could rot but tell against him. Nevertheless, he did not return to Jacksonville till the morning of the 5th to take the necessary measures for the defense of the town in time enough, however, to lay the snare for Gilbert Burbank, and preside at the committee which sentenced the young officer to death. One thine was certain, and that was that Texar was not in the boat with Squambo, which was carried off into the gloom by the rising tide. Zermah, knowing that her shouts would not be heard on tbe deserted banks of the St. John's, was silent. She sat in the stern with Dy in tar arms. The child was quite frightened, and uttered not a single complaint. She clung to the half-breed's breast, and hid herself in the folds of her mantle. Once or twice only did a few words escape her lips. "Mamma! Mamma! Good Zermah, I am afraid! I am afraid! I want to see mamma!" "Yes, my dear," answered Zermah, "we shall see her. Never fear; I am near yon." At the same moment, Mrs. Burbank had run along the right bank of the stream, and was seeking in vain to follow her daughter as she was borne away to the opposite side. The darkness was then profound. The fires on the estate bad begun to subside, but not without several explosions. From the heavy clouds of smoke in the north the flames shot Tjp but seldom, when they illuminated the river for a second like a flash of lightning. Then all was silent and dark. The boat wan in midstream, and the banks could not be seen. It could not have been more isolated, more alone, in the open sea. Whither was Squambo bound? It was important for Zermah to know. To ask the Indian would he useless; and so she tried to make out the position for herself not an easy thing to do in the darkness while Squambo kept in the midClio of the St. John's. The tide was running in, and, paddled by the to blacks, the boat rapidly sped to the south. And would it not be wise for Zermah to leave some traces of her route, so as to help her mas- , ter in her search! But on the river that was impossible. On land, a rag torn from her mantle and left on a bush might be the beginning of a trail which, once recovered, might follow to the end. But what would be the use of entrusting anything to the stream! Could it be hoped that chance would bring it to James Burbank's bands! The idea must be given up, and she must content herself with ascertaining where she landed. An hour elapsed, and Squambo had not ut- ' tered a word. The two slaves paddled in silence. No light appeared on the banks, neither in the houses nor under the trees. Zermah watched right and left, ready to note the least indication, and thinking onlywjf the danger which threatened the girl. Of her own danger she never thought; all her fears were concentrated on the child. It was Texar who . had stolen her of that there could be no doubt She had recognized the Spaniard, who had been at Marine creek either with the intention of entering Castle House throueb the tunnel or waiting for the defenders when they attempted to escape. If Texar had not been in such a hurry, Mrs. Burbank and Alice Stannard would now have been in bis power. If he had not headed the attack of the militia and rabble, it was because he felt surer of securing the Burbank family at Marine creek. In any case, Texar could not deny that he had taken part in the seizure. Zermah had shouted his name, and Mrs. Burbank and Alice must have heard her. Later on, when the hour of justice came, when the Spaniard would have to answer for his crimes, he would not on this occasion be able to invoke one of those inexplicable alibis that had hitherto succeeded with him. What fate had he in reserve for his victims? Was be going to banish them to the marshy Everglades beyond the source of the St Johnsl Did he look upon Zermah as a dangerous witness, whose evidence would one day ruin him? Zermah would willingly have sacrificed her life to save the child that had been carried away with her. But if she were dead what would become of Dy in the hands of Texar and his companions? The thought was torture to her, and (he clasped the girl more closely to her heart, as If Squrfmbo had shown some intention of taking her away. Zermah noticed that the boat was nearing the left ban IE of the river. Would that give her any clew! No, for she did not know that the Spanlard lived in Black creek, on one of the islets of the lagoon. Even Texar's partisans were ignorant of this, for no one bad ever been admitted - to the blockhouse which he occupied with Squambo and the blacks. It was to Black Creek that Squsmto was ta

ing tho prisoners. In that mysterious plaoe they would be safe from all search. The creek was, so to speak, impenetrable, for no one knew the plan of its waterways. It offered a thousand retreats where prisoners could be hid without it being possible to discover any traces of them. If James Burbank tried to explore its tangled thickets, there would be time enough to remove the half-breed and child to the peninsula. There all chances would be lost of recovering them amid the vast regions which the Floridan pioneers rarely visited, and the unhealthy plains where only Indians wandered. The forty-five miles between Camdless Bay and Black creek were quickly covered. About 11 o'clock the boat passed the bend which the St John's makes two hundred yards below the creek. All that had to be done was to find the entrance to the lagoon not an easy thing to do in the profound darkness which enveloped the left bank of the river. Squambo, though well acquainted with the place, kept off the.shore as much as possible. It would have been easier for him to run close in, but the bank was cut into by a number of small creeks bristling with reeds and other aquatic plants, and he was afraid of running aground. And as the tide was turned he would be in a difficulty were he to do so. He would have to wait nearly eleven hours till the tide came back, and how could he avoid being seen during that time? There were always a good many boats on the river, and now events necessitated cop-stant communication between Jacksonville and St. Augustine. If the members of the Burbank family had not perished in the attack on Castle House they would be sure to begin an active search in the morning, and Squambo, stuck on a shoal at the foot of the bank, would inevitably be seen. It would be a dangerous position, and for many reasons it was better for him to remain in the stream; even, if necessary, to anchor and wait for the dawn, when he could be sure of his road. Suddenly he heard a noise approaching him. It was the sound of paddle-wheels. And almost immediately a moving mass appeared round the bend of the left bank. A steamboat was advancing at half speed. In less than a minute it would be upon them. By a gesture Squambo stopped his men, and with a movement of the rudder turned the boat's head toward the right bank so as to avoid being seen. 3 But the beat had been sighted by the look-out on board, and she was hailed from the steamer. Squambo uttered a terriLli oath. But he had to obey. A moment afterwards he ran alongside the steamer, which had stopped to wait for him. Zermah at once rose from her seat Here was a chance of safety. Could she not appeal for help, make herself known, and escape from Squambo? The Indian arose at the same moment, bowie knife in hand. With the other hand be caught hold of Dy, whom Zermah in vain tried to snatch from him. "One word," he said, "and I will kill her?" If it had been her own life that was threatened, Zermah would not have hesitated. But as it was the child's, she was silent From the deck of the steamer nothing could be seen of what was taking place in the boat The steamer was coming from Picolata, where she had embarked a .detachment of militia for Jacksonville, to reinforce the Southern troops defending the mouth of the river. An officer leaning over the bridge spoke to the Indian "Where are you going to?" "Picolata." Zerman took note of the name, although she knew that Squambo wished to keep secret his real destination. "Where do you come from?" "Jacksonville." "Any news there?" "NaT "Nothing about Dupont's flotilla?" "Nothing." "No news since the attack on Fernandina and Fort Clinch?" "None." "What was the meaning of the lights we saw, and the reports we heard, while we were at anchor waiting for the tide to turn ?" "An attack on Camdless Bay plantation." "By the Northerners?" "No. By the Jacksonville militia. The planter defied the orders of the committee "Eight ! Right ! You mean James Burbank, the mad Abolitionist ?" "Just so." "What was the result!" "I don't know. I only saw it as I passed. It looked as though everything was in flames." At this moment a feeble cry escaped from the child's lips. Zermah put her hand on Dy's mouth, as the Indian's finger felt for her neck. The officer on the bridge heard nothing. "Were the guns in action at Camdless Bay?-' "I do not think so." "Why the three reports that seem to come from Jacksonville V "Is the St John's clear from Picolata to the bar?" "Quite clear, and you need not trouble yourself about the gunboats." "All right Sheer off?" An order was sent to the engine-room, and the steamer resumed her way. 'Can you answer me a question?" asked Squambo. "What?" said the officer. "The night is very dark. I hardly know where I am." "Off Black Creek." "Thank you." The paddle-wheels churned the river face, and gradually the steamer disappeared in the night, leaving behind her a considerable troubling of the waters. Squambo, left alone in mid-stream, sat down in the canoe and gave the order to resume paddling. He knew his position, and starboarding his helm, headed straight for the opening of Black creek. That it was to this place of such difficult access that the Indian was taking them, Zermah could no longer doubt, and little good did the knowledge do her. How could she tell her master, and how could he succeed in searching this impenetrable labyrinth? At the back of the creek were there not the forests of Duval county offering every facility ftr evading pursuit, in case James Burbank managed to get through the lagoon! This part of eastern Florida was in those days a lost country, in whichlt was almost impossible to find a trail. Nor was it prudent to venture on doing so. The Seminoles wandered about the forest and marshlands, and were formidable enemies. They robbed the travelers who fell into their hands, and massacred those who attempted to defend themselves. A strange affair, much talked of at that time, had happened in the upper part of the country a little to the northwest of Jacksonville. Twelve Floridans had landed on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico and been surprised by a tribe of Seminoles. They had not been put to death because they bad made no resistance, which, as they were one to ten, was not to be thought of. They were stripped, and robbed of all they possessed, even to their clothes. They were forbidden, on pain of instant execution, to again enter the territory which the Indians claimed as their own; and, to recognize them in case they disobeyed the order, the chief of the tribe availed

himself of a very simple device. He tattooed them on the arm in a curious way with the juice of a dye-plant and a needle-point, so that they could not remove the mark. Without further' ill-treatment, tney were turned adrift. The? reached the northern plantations in a piteors plight, branded, so to speak, with the crest f the Indian tribe, and not at all anxious, as mty be imagined, to again fall into the hands of these Seminoles, who would massacre them'in order to honor their signature. i At any other time the militia of Duval county would not have .allowed such a proceeding to pass with impunity. They would have gone off in pursuit of the Indians. But at present tley had something else to do besides undertaking an expedition against the nomads. The fear of seeing the country invaded by the Northerners overshadowed everything. Their-only ot-ject was to prevent the Northerners becoming masters of the St John's and the district it watired, and they could not spare a man from; the Southern forces at Jacksonville and on: the Georgian frontier. There would be time entugh later on to take the field against the Semintles. when they had been emboldened by the Jivil war to the point of invading the enemy's territory. Then they would not be contented to drive them back into the Everglades, but v&uld endeavor to destroy them to the last man. It was thus dangerous to venture into the territory of western Florida; and, if James Burbank pu&hed his researches in that direction, it would be to meet with more than the usual dangers. The boat bad reached the left bank of the river. Squambo, knowing where Black creek enters the St. John's, had no fear of grounding on a shoal, and in less than five minutes be was under the branching trees in darkness deeper than that extending over the river. Accustomed as he was to the navigation of the network of the lagoon, he could advance without fear, but as he could no longer be seen, why should he not have more light on his path? A resinous branch was cut from one of the trees and lighted, and stuck in the bow of the boat, so that its smoky light showed the way. In about half an hour Squambo traversed the meanderings of the creek, and at last he reached the island of the blockhouse. Zermah was there made to land- Overcome with fatigue, the little girl was asleep in her arms. She did not wake when the half-breed entered the door of the fortress and was shut up in one of the rooms communicating with the central redoubt. Dy, wrapped in a covering which was dragged from one of the corners, was laid on a sort of pallet Zermah watch by her side.

CHAPTER XVL A STRANGE OPERATIONS In the morning at 8 o'clock it was the 3d of March Squambo entered the room where Zermah had passed the night. He brought some food bread, a piece of cold venison, fruits, a jue of strong beer, a pitcher of water, and the different utensils of the table. At the same time one of the blacks placed in one of the corners an old piece of furniture with toilet necessaries, towels and other things for the half-breed's own use and that of the little girL Dy was still asleep. By a gesture Zermah had besought Squambo not to' wake hr. s When the negro had gone out, Zermah asked the Indian in a low voice: "What are they going to do with us?" "I don't know," said Squambo. "What orders have you had from Texar?" "Whether they come from Texar or from somebody else tney are these, and you would do well to conform to them. So long as you are here, this room will be yours, and you will be kept in it during the night" "And during the day?" "Vou can walk about the incfosure." "While we are here. But where are we? "Where I was told to bring you," "And are we to remain here?" "I have said what I had to say," said the Indian. "It is useless to ask me more; I shall not answer." And Squambo, whose manner gave no hope of further conversation, left the room. Zermah looked at the girl. A few tears rose to her eyes, tears which she at once wiped away. It would never do for Dy, when she awoke, to see that she had been crying. It was necessary that the child should gradually become accustomed to her new position, precarious as it might be, for all depended on the Spaniard. Zermah thought over what had passed during the night. She had seen Mrs. Burbank and Alice on the bank while the boat moved away. Their desperate appeals, their heart-rendering cries, had reached her. But had they been able ro get bask to Castle House along the tunnel, reach the besieged, and tell James Burbank and his companions of the new misfortunes that had fallen on them? Had they been captured by the Spaniard's men, dragged far from Camdless Bay, killed, perhaps? If so, James Burbank would not know that his child had been e:trfjpt off with Zermah. He would think, that his wile, Alice, his daughter, and the half-breed had got away from Marine creed and reached Cedar Rock in safety. He would then make no immediate search for their recovery Supposing that Mrs. Burbank and Alice had got back to Caetle House, and James Burbank knew everything, was there not cause to fear tbac the honse had been entered by the assailants, pillaged, burnt, destroyed? In that case, what had become of its defenders? If they had been made prisoners or killed in the struggle, Zermah could not hope for any assistance cn their part. Even if the Northerners had become masters of the St. John's she was lost. . Neither Gilbert Burbank nor Mars would know that the sister of one and the wife of the other were imprisoned in the islet in Black creek. And although these things were so, and Zermah had only herself to look to, her energy would not leave her. She would do all she could to save this child who had perhaps only her in the world to look to. Her life would center in this idea escape! Not an hour should pass without her doing something towards doing so. ' But was it possible to escape from the fortress watched by Squambo and his companions, to get away from the ferocious bloodhounds that prowled round the enclosr.re, to fly from this island lost in the thousand windings of the lagoon? Yes, it was possible, but only on condition that she was secretly helped by one of the slaves who knew the channels of Black creek. Why should not the temptation of a large reward induce one of the men to help her in her escape? That was the direction in which she must work. Dy had just awoka. The first word she uttered was a call for her mother. Then she looked round the room. The remembrance cf last night's events returned to her. She saw the half-breed, and ran to her. "Good Zermah! Good Zermah!" she murmured, "I am afraid! I am afraid!" "You mnst not be afraid, my dear." "Where ia mammal" "She will come soon. We have been obliged to save ourselves as yon know! We are now in safety. There is nothing to fear. As soon as they have helped your father, he will come to us." Dv looked at Zermah, as much as to say "Is that really true?" "Yes," said Zermah, who wished to give the child confidence at any cost. "Yes, Mr. Burbank told us to wait for him here." "But the men who took us away in the boat?" said the child, returning to the charge. "They are the servants of Mr. Harvey, my dear. You know Mr. Harvey, your father's friend who lives at Jacksonville. We are in his cottage at Hampton Red." "And Mamma and Alice, who were with us, why are they not here?"' "Mr. Burbank called them back as they were going to get into the boat. Do you not remember? As sooo as the naughty men have been hunted from Camdless Bay. they will come and look for you. See .ow! Don't cry! Don't be afraid, my dear, eve 1 if we stay here for some days. We are wel hidden. And now let me put yon straight" Dy kept her eyes obstinately fixed on Zermah, and notwithstanding what she had been told, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. She had not woke with a smile as she usually did. It was important to keep her busy to distract her attention. And Zermah tried to do so with the most tender solicitude. She performed her toilet with as much care as if , the child were at Castle House, and at the same time tried to amuse her with her stories. Then Dy ate a little, and Zermah shared her first breakfast with her. "Now, my dear, if you like, we will go out into the enclosure." "Is Mr. Harvey's cottage very nice?" asked the child. "Nice? No!" said Zermah. "I think it is an old hovel. But there are trees and watercourses, and a place where we can walk. We shall stay here for some days, and if you are not too tired, and are very good, mamma will be pleased." "Yes, good Zermah, I will be good!" said the little girL The door of the room was not locked. Zermah took the child's hand and went out with her. They first found themselves in the central redoubt, where it was dark. A moment afterwards they were in full daylight beneath the foliage of the great trees through which the sun shot its rays. The enclosure was not large; it was about an acre in extent, and of this the block-house occupied the greater portion. The palisade which surrounded it did not allow Zermah to reconooiter the position of the island in the lagoon. All she could see through the old gateway was a tolerably wide channel, with troubled waters separating it from the neighboring inlands. A woman and a child could but find it difficult to escape. Even supposing Zermah could get possession of a boat, bow could she get out of trie interminable labyrinth? She did not know that Texar and Squambo alone knew the waj for the negroes rarely left the block-house. To

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reach the fct John s, or the marshes to tne west of the creek, she would have to trust to chance. And was not that running to certain destruction? During the next day or two Zermah, on thinking matters over, saw that no help could be hoped from Texar's slaves. They were for the moat part half brutish negroes of forbidden appearance. The Spaniard did not keep them chained, bat they had not more liberty than if he bad. Witn plenty to eat grown on the island, and addicted to strong drink, which Squambo was not at all stingy in giving them, and specially kept for defending the blockhouse, they had no interest in changing their existence for another. The slave auestion debated a few miles from Black creek had no interest for them. To gain their freedom? Why? And what would they do with it? Texar assured their existence, and Squambo did not ill-treat them, although he would have smashed the head of the first man who advised them to mutiny. They never dreamt of such a thing. They were, indeed, brutes inferior to the hounds prowling around the palisade. And without exaggeration it could be said that the bounds excelled them in intelligence, for they knew all the ins and outs of the creek, swam its multiple passes, running from islet to islet, guided by a marvellous instinct which never led them astray. Often their baik would be beard along the left bank of the river, and before night they would come back to the block-house all by themselves. No boat could enter Black creek without being at once discovered by these formidable guardians. Except Squamoo and Texar, no one would dare to leave the fortress without running the risk of beiug devoured by these savage Carib dogs. When Zermah saw how the enclosure was watched, when she saw she could expect no help from those who guarded her, it might be thought that she gave up all thought of escape in despair. But she did not. Help might come from outside, and in that case it would come from James Burbank, if he was free to act, or from Mars when Mars learned how his wife had disappeared. Failing these she must depend on herself for the child's safety. And she would be equal to the task. Isolated in this laeoon she saw herself surrounded only by brutish men. Sometimes she thought that one of the negroes, who was still young, looked at her with pity. Was there any hope in that? Could she trust bim to tell her the way to Camdless Bay, and held her to escape to Castle House? It was doubtful. And Squambo had evidently noticed that the slave was taking an interest in her, for now he was kept away, and Zermah met him no more in her walks about the enclosure. Several days passed and there was no change in the circumstances. From morning till night Zermah and Dy were at liberty to move about as they chose. When night came, although Sqnambo did not lock them in their room, yet he did not allow them to leave the central redoubt. He never spoke to them, and Zermah had given up all attempts to question him. Not for a moment did he seem to leave the island. She felt that his v; atch over them was unceasing. And she employed herself in looking after the child, who constantly asked for its mother. "She will come!" Zermah would reply. "I have had news of her. lour father will come too, my dear, and with Miss Alice." And when she had said this she knew not what else to imagine; and then she did her best to amuse the child; who showed more sense than could be expected at her age. The 4th, 5th and 6th of March went by. Although Zermah listened for some distant detonation to announce the presence of the Federal flotilla on the waters of the St. John's, no sound reached her. All was silence at Black creek. It was not reasonable to suppose that Florida did not yet belong to the soldiers of the North. And this increased the half-breed's anxiety to the utmost. Failing James Burbank, she must trust to Gilbert and Mars. And what was very strange was that the Spaniard had not once shown himself in the blockhouse, either in the day or the night. At least Zermah saw nothing to make her think so. And she scarcely slept, passing her long hours of insomnia in listening always in vain. What could she do if Texar came to Black creek? Would he listen to her prayers or her threats? Was not the Spaniard's presence more to be feared than his absence? It was the night of the 6th of March, and about 11 o'clock. For the thousandth time Zermah was thinking over these things, as little Dy quietly slept. The room which served them for a cell was in deep darkness. No sound was heard without, except the whistling of the winds along the crumbling planks of the blockhouse. Suddenly she heard someone walking into the central redoubt. At first she supposed it was the Indian going to his room opposite hers, after making his usual round to see that all was safe. Then she heard a few words spoken by two voices. She glided to the door, and placed her ' ear close to it, and listened. She recognized Squarabo's voice, and almost immediately afterward Texar's. A shudder seized her. What did the Spaniard want at this hour? Was it some new scheme against her and the child? Were they going to take them from their room, carry them to some more unknown retreat, more impenetrable than this of Black creek? In a moment all these sunpositions presented themselves. Then her energy took the upper hand, and she leant against the door and listened. "Nothing new?" said Texar. "Nothing, master," said Squambo. "And Zermah?" "I refused to answer her questions." "Have any attempts been made to reach them from Camdless Ray?" "Yes, but none have succeded." From this reply Zermah learnt that people were searching for them. Who could they be? 'How do you know?" "I have been several times to the river bank," said the Indian. "And a day or two ago I saw a boat laying off the creet. The two men in her landed on one of the islands by the bank." "Who were these two men?" "James Burbank and Walter Stannard." Zermah could hardly restrain her emotion. James Burbank and Walter Stannard! And so the defenders of Castle House had not perished in the attack on the plantation. And if they had begun to search, it was because they knew that she and the child had been carried off. And if they knew that, it must be because Mrs. Borbank and Alice told them so. So that they were alive, and they mnst have got back to Castle House after hearing her last shout for help against Texar. James Burbank thus knew what happened. He knew the scoundrel's name. Perhaps he even suspected where he had bidden his victims. He might even reach them! This chain of thought linked itself together instantly in Zermah's mind. A great hope took possession of her a hope that vanished immediately when she heard the Spaniard answer: "Yes! Let them search, and they will never find them. In a few days we need have no fear of James Burbank!" What these words meant Zermah could not divine; but, coming from the man whom Jacksonville obeyed, they were a formidable menace. "And now, Squambo, 1 want you for an hour," said tho Spaniard. 'Right." "Follow me." A moment afterward they entered the Indian's room. What were they doing there? Was it some secret that Zermah ought to know? In her position she Bhould neglect nothing that might be of use to her. Her room door, as we know, was not locked during the night. The precaution would have been useless, as the redoubt was locked, and Squambo kept the key. It was impossiDle to get out of the blockhouse, and consequently to attempt escape. Zermah could thus open her door and step, out She held ber breath while she did so. The darkness was intense. Only a few p streaks of light came from the Indian's room. Zermah crept to the door and peeped through the crack between two planks, What she saw was too strange to understand its meaning. Although the room was lighted only by the fag end of a resinous torch, the light was enough for the Indian, who was occupied in a work of great delicacy. Texar was seated in front of him. with his leather coat thrown back, and with his left arm bare and stretched out on a little table just under the light of the torch. A piece of pacer or curious shape, pierced with little holes, was laid on the inner part of the fore-arm. With a fine needle Squambo pricked the skin in every place where there was a hole in the paper. The Indian was tattooing, and as a Seminole, he was an expert at such work. He did it with such skill and lightness of hand that the epidermis was only touched by the needle point, and the Spaniard felt not the least discomfort. When he bad done, Squambo lifted the paper; then, taking a few leaves of a plant Texar had brought with him, he rubbed them over the fore-arm. The sap of the plant rubbed into the needle punctures caused a sharp itching, but the Spaniard was not the man .to trouble himself about such small matters. This part of the operation over, Squambo held the torch close to the tattooed place. A reddish design then appeared on the skin. The design was an exact copy of that formed by the needleholes in the paper. It was a series of intercrossed lines, representing one of the symbolic figures of the Seminole religion. The mark could never more be effaced from the arm on which Squambo had put it. Zermah had seen it all, and as we have said, couli understand nothing of it What interest could Texar have in being thus tattooed? Why this "particular sign." as the passports say! Did he wish to pass as an Indian? Neither his complexion nor his foatures would admit of his do

ing so. Was there any connection between this mark and that which had been put on the Floridans who had been robbed by the Seminoles? All on account of it, was he going to prove one of those inexplicable alibis which had hitherto stood him in such good stead? Perhaps this was one of the secrets of his life which the future would reveal. Another question presented itself to Zermah. Had not the Spaniard come to the blockhouse to avail himself of Squambo's cleverness as a tattooer? . Was be going back to Jacksonville, where his partisans were still in power? Or was he going to stop at the blockhouse day after day and make fresh arrangements regarding his prisoners? Zermah's anxiety was not of long duration. She bad slipped back to her room as soon as the Spaniard rose to enter the central chamber. Hidden by the door she heard the few words exchanged between the Indian and his master. "Watch them with more care than ever," h said. "Yes," replied Squambo. "But if we are closely pressed by James Burbank " "James Burbank, 1 tell you. will not trouble you after a few days. Besides, yon know where to take the half-breed and child where I shall meet you again." "Yes, master, said Squambo; "for we must provide against Gilbert Burbank, or Mars, Zermah's husband " "Before forty-eight hours they will both be in my power, and when I get them " Zermah did not hear the end of the sentence which threatened her husband and Gilbert so seriously. Texar and Squambo then left the redoubt and the door shut behind them. A few minutes later the skiff paddled by the Indian left tne island, traversed the sombre sinuosities of the lagoon, and put the Spaniard on board a boat that was waiting for him off the creek. Squambo and his master then separated, Texar going down with the tide to Jacksonville. He arrived there at dawn, in time to put his plans in execution. Ard soon afterwards Mars disappeared in the waters of the St. John's and Gilbert Burbank was condemned to death. (TO BS CONTINUED NEXT SUNDAY. )

OF INTEREST TO WOMEX. Defects of Figure Shown by Summer Gowns The Fashionable Woman's Wardrobe. Deformed Women. Special to the Indianapolis Journal. New York, Aug. 27. A perfectly formed woman is more of a rarity than a white crow. Pretty faces belong to New York girls as a part of the ordinary courtesy of nature. Beautiful women, so far as hair, and lips, and eyes can contribute to beauty, are not uncommon sights, but grace, or even symmetry of figure, is among society girls or shop girls practically unknown. Five women out of ten whom one passes on the street are deformed. August is a good month in which to study the female form divine. Thick clothing is an impossibility. Wraps of all descriptions are cast aside. In the cotton gown, which fashion has decreed shall be as close-fitting and as severe in its outlines as its woolen, tailor-made model, no amount of padding and no make-up, however ingenious, can disguise certain facts which are patent to everybody with eyes. The average New York girl has two strong points her head and her hands. The head is wellshaped and well set upon the shoulders. It is not large, but is alert in every turn and movement. It impresses the observer as belonging to a sensitive, intelligent, highly civilized type, whether hs soes the face or confines his view to the tip of the ear and the coils of the hair. The hands have grown progressively better since tight gloves went out and outof door exercise came in. As a rule they are not plump enough to be positively pretty, but tennis and archery have given them a more muscular, healthy, usable look than their pallid predecessors of a dozen years ago. But the figure. That is a cultivated product, and as compared with the wild growth gives one a curious idea of the feminine agriculturalists who have taken its training in hind. One has to reckon, in the first place, with the designed, and in the second place with the accidental. That is, one has to "take into account the conventional shape which the girl tries to model herBelt into, and the various modifications of that shape brought about by the manner of life, work, exercise, etc. As a basis for the various exigencies of life to work themselves out upon, the New York girl for four or five years past has started with Mrs. Langtry. There never was a figure exhibited in New York that became more popular or more widely imitated than the Langtry figure, and, allowing for the faint touch of caricature that marks an imitation as distinguished from the original, and sometimes for the broader caricature that shows the difference between dress education and non-education, there are some thousands of duplicates of the Langtry waist and shoulders walking about the streets to-day. The Lily's neck is beautiful, but her shape is English, and bad English, and the copies made out of all 6orls of flesh and blood material naturally exaggerate its worst points. A good example of the second-hand Lily was one of the throng of workers that poured out of a big dry-goods store at closing hour last night. She was a sunset-headed belle, twenty years old or thereabouts, good-looking, neatly dressed, and very like her original in natural figure and superinduced build. As I looked at her, her shoulders, though really small, seemed of disproportionate size. The shoulder blades, through dress necessities, were pushed out at an angle and the shoulders forced forward, giving a tilted prominence to the whole upper part of the body. , The chest was a trifle flat. The waist was six or eight inches too small and unnaturally round. Across the bust gran the prominent line that marked the corset top, and from this point to the waist-line the body was as unresponsive to muscle movements, as rigid and almost as much beyond its owner's control as if it had been molded out of ciead clay. The hips were too large. With the swaying of the draperies, the swish and swing of the extensive bustle, the figure gave the impression of being insecurely fastened in the middle, and one involuntarily hoped the hinge might not give way and the thing break in two. The probabilities are that her calves would have showed bad garter-marks and that she would not have bared her feet except in strictest privacy for a good round sum. This English figure is a very general working pattern, and sometimes, passing a cluster of girls on the pavements who have given many years to its cultivation, one can guess at the everyday habits that have brought about individual peculiarities, differentiating figure from figure and adding special to general deformity. An English waist on a girl who doesn't take much exercise is apt to remain closest to the average type. Long, thin arms are the only characteristic in such cases added. An English figure at a clerk's or copyist's, or stenographer's desk always gets one shoulder and sometimes one whole side of the figure higher than the other. But it is the athletic girl, the new type of girl who goe3 in for pretty nearly all the sports her brother takes up, who is, if she has previously cultivated her figure, the worst deformed girl of alL There is nothing like athletics and corsets, mixed or in altercate doses, to bring out the possibilities of curv6, twists and abnormal developments in a modern girl. All British femininity is at present eneaged in screaming contradictions at Labourchere, because he had the hardihood to declare that tennis-playing giris were crooked. In a half dozen croups at the Central Park yesterday. I picked out four plavers whose right shoulders were noticeably of different shape from the left, and six or seven in whom the same thing, though less obvious, bad begun to manifest itself, the summer exertion enlarging the muscles and tight clothing thrusting them out of place and accentuating the uneven development of the body. Girls who row in corsets are a curious sight, the extra muscular development all taking place high tap where the blo.d has a chance to circulate and making the shoulders tower above the rest of the body. When I see a woman who is not deformed I mark the day with a red letter. Mrs. Tom Thumb, the Countess Magrie they call ber now, enjoys the distinction of being the only symmetrically shaped midget. The women of full size who have bodies whose lines a sculptor would care to copy without alteration occupy positions almost as unique. Miss Alice Freeman has owed much of her success at Wellesley to the fact that she is a magnificent specimen of womanhood physically, finely formed and commanding respect by her control of bodily powers. No whalebones creak when she walks. Maria Mitchell, the astronomer, with ber white hairs, would shame many a younger woman with her perfect physique. Mrs. Jenne.s Miller, the new dress reformer, will succeed, if she succeeds, because she is herself harmony from up to toe in every line. Miss Grace II. Dodge, the school commiasioser. has one of the best figures in New York.

One can see splendid figures in Castle Garden any day in the week, but fhey never appear outside it because the irom ant's first exploring tour is directed toward a cheap clothing shop, wbereshe throws aside the German or Swedish bodice, and puts on the corset, which she laces the tighter to make up for lost time. Sitting in the office of a woman physician the other day, I noticed a collection of buttons that lay on a tray on her writing desk. "Snapped off women's gowns." she said in answer to my look of inquiry. "A good proportion of my patients can't put on their bonnets when they rise to go without unfastening their dress to enable them to lift their hands to their head. In the unbuttoning or buttoning up process one will fly off and hide itself in the corner. I keep a bunch of flowers," and she pointed to a vase of golden rod. "forany nnlncicy cne to cover deficiencies with: when we can't find the truant button." A masseuse who has seen considerable service in wealthy families, told me one day that in years she had administered maeeage to only one woman whose ribs were not displaced bv corset wearing. In a certain studio in a city the place of honor is occupied by a series of studies in marble of a beautiful foot It is taken in every position that a foot could be supposed to occupy, io repose, as it would appear walking, running, balanced' on the toes. Once the sculptor saw a human foot, a woman's foot, that was fit to take a cast from. He never expected to get another model of any u?e to bim, and perpetuated that in a variety of attitudes. Eliza Putnam Heaton. Safe Deposits for Dresses. Special to the Indianapolis Journal. New York. Aug. 27. When a woman has 250 gowns, with underwear, wraps, bonnets, laces and parasols to correspond, what is she going to do with them? Obviously she requires some place for storage, and the result of competition in dressing is seen in the demand this summer for especial rooms, arranged for the keeping of such toilet valuables at the watering place hotels. Such a gown-room is not a mere trunk storage apartment It is fire-proof, or meant to be so, and it contains a wealth of closet-room and dress-rack room that would turn an ordinary housewife's brain. Four such rooms, pre-empted by individuals, have been in use this month at Saratoga, to say nothing of plebeian bed-rooms set asice for wardrobe mysteries by one woman or two or three women in common. Mrs. William Lawton, of New York, has had one gown-room. She is credited with eighty out-door gowns, 100 evening gowns anil some fifty morning and piazza toilets. A Chicago woman, Mrs. Moore, has another gownroom, and keeps it about as full. The wife of a Kansas City broker, an heiress from the Pacifio coast and a pretty demi-blonde Philadelphian carry an equal amount of baggage and are hard at work at the task of making one appearance in each toilet of their list of from 150 to 200 apiece. The yachting gown is very picturesque this summer. Sometynes it is a red twill cloth, with a long pleated wistcoat of white pique. Sometimes it is a yellow and white stripped flannel, with a peaked yellow cap. Sometimes it is a dark blue serge, with a squadrou bodice in white, made short waisted and fastened with three double buttons. A check tweed with a peaked red cap is a pretty fancy. A soft silk boating gown comes out when there are no white caps t be seen. A red silk blouse contrasts piquantly with a fancy skirt. A white silk shirt is sometimes the most effective garb of all, with draperies of the same color, a scarlet sash and scarlet cap. Many women look their best on the water. They know it and take very kindly to gala days with the fleet For autumn journeys by rail or steamer a favorite material is a lustrous mohair. Shades ol French gray are preferred, or, for young girls, stripes of gray and white, fawn and white, bjue and white, or solid dark blue. Rows of narrow moire ribbon make the prettiest trimming. Tht bonnet is of gray straw, small and close, trimmed with cardinal flowers, one drooping cluster of scarlet bean blossoms, red carnations or bluettes. The old-time pocket, hanging on fthe outside of the gown and corresponding with the short, round waists and full skirts, is one of the fashion revivals threatened for the falL The pocket is to be long and narrow in shape, just large enough to accommodate a handkerchief, and designed for ornament rather than use. It won't be quite so suggestive of lunatic asylum or Bridewell as the rattling girdle chains, at least. The pocket ought to be big enough to carry a latch key whether it holds a vinaigrette or not. Not until a woman is able to let herself into ber own house at night is she a business-like member of a civilized community. e. p. h.

A Dainty Novelty. Special to the Indianapolis Journal. New Yokk, Aug. 27 A novel fashion at seaside resorts this season has been the introd notion among very rich women of a drinking glass especially designed for the purpose of imbibing the particular kind or kinds of mineral water that milady affects. These glasses, the first oi which was of course imported from Paris, are of various designs more or less elaborate, some ot them revealing the mo6t exquisite workmanship. They are fastened to a gold or silver chain and worn dangling from the belt The custom, which is a new one, is naturally in danger of being carried to excess and serving as an excuse for vulgar display. This is true of all new fashions; but, on the other hand, it cannot be denied that a private and elegant glass from which to quaff sulphur or Hawthorne water is vastly more desirable and agreeable than drinking the same liquids out of a coarse tumbler that has been pressed by the lips of thousands of the common herd. And since the imagination plays so large a role in our actual experiences, it may be questioned whether the obnoxieus flavors of mineral waters generally would not be materially modified for the better by the prolonged use of these individual aesthetic glasses. We all know that champagne taken out of a tin cup or a tooth mug becomes at once insipid and disagreeable. From a logical standpoint, therefore, and in inverse ratio, even Bulphur water might become palatable in proportion to the magnificence of the drinking glass. At Saratoga a lady well known in New York city has one of these glasses that is a marvel of art It is made of the thinnest and purest crystal in the shape of an ordinary tumbler. Around the edge is a double row of turquoises set in a gold rim. and below this a numberof tiny dimouds. The chain that attaches this costly trifle to the wearer's side is of alternating links of embossed gold and deep blue enamel, also inlaid with jewels. Strange to say, the lady is hardly satisfied with it, however, and thinks of sending abroad for one of yet greater price. Claka Lanza. A Memorable Night In Paris. Paris Letter in Philadelphia Press. "I think you have told me. Mrs. Crawford, that you were on excellent terms with Thiers. Under what circumstances did you meet bim?" "I met him first through Mr. Crawford, shortly after mv marriage. I suppose it would be m 1864, and I enjoyed his friendship till his death. I recollect that when he was elected President of the Republic I told him all our old friendship would have to be at an end he was king now, and I ehould require regular presentation to bim in the rame way as I should have to be presented to a sovereign. Thiers was immensely amused with my suggestion, and the fact that be was President altered in no way our social relations, which were of the most cordial, right down to the day of his death. "During the exhibition year I was presented to all the kings and queens at that time in ' Paris, and Lady Cowley asked me to her famous supper at the British embassy, where I met twenty actual and future sovereigns of Europe. It was the night that the Emperor Maximilian was shot, and I recollect well the news being brought into the room as we were at table. But it was only whispered to a few of us. I was sitting quite near the Emperor of the French and the Queen of the Belgians. The Emperor appeared very uncomfortable and agitated the whole of the evening, and when a piper of the Duke ol Edinburgh came in to play before the company, the Empress Eugenie danced herself ud and down in her chair in time to the music in order to appear gay and unconcerned in spite ot the news. That is one of the remarkable gatherings I have witnessed in Paris." A Photographic Diary. New York Evening Post. Some time ago there was an exhibition of amateur work here in New York, and another one is talked about. Perhaps the most interesting novelties in amateur work of the last few years are the numbers of amateur albums devoted to family history, constituting almost a pictorial diary of the family life. One noted amateur has rough manilla albums, each one devoted to one of his children. The first page shows the baby a day old, and not a month passes without a picture of that child or some of its surroundings the nursery, the house, its books and playthings. On eome pages are family groups, in which the child figures. Beneath each piture is written the date, and the the album will constitute a curious record for the future. A writer in the Boston Herald claims to know from long experience that cedar boughs laid on shels or in corners infested with ants of any color will drive them away. Green tansy t equally good.