Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 16, Number 17, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 17 October 1885 — Page 6

I »«4««l

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

DORIS BURNHAM.

A STORY OF PIONEER DAYS.

CHAPTER VIII.

.4 COWARD SHOT.

Waunita was sick at heart. She walk ed on, careless wither her steps led her Finally she caught sight of the dimpling waters of the lake, and the gleam of the white tents of Mr. Burnbam's camp among the trees.

All ihe wild fears of Panther's faith 1688n ess to herself came back with redoubled force, now that old Mahkewa's words had famished her with a clue to bis conduct. She had a lival—and that rival a beautiful white woman

With that sex instinct which is com mon to women of all races and colors there sprang up in ber bosom a wild fierce batrea of the girl whom she sup' had supplanted ber in her bus tad's affections. The hopelessness of her own position added a sting to ber feeling. She knew that in a contest for Manro's heart the red child of the for est would have no chance against her rival and, loving Monro deeply, she felt that the unknown white girl would fall as easy a prey to him as she had her self done.

While she stood, leaning against a tree, and gazing dreamily toward the tent, she beard the beat of a horse's hoofs, and then next minute Doriscame riding by. not a dozen paces away. Waunita shrank back and screened herself from observation behind the tree but her eyes gazed with all the fury of a scorned woman at the girl whom she regarded as ber successful rival.

Doris rode on without seeing her, on her homeward way. Wannita's gaze followed ber until she had reached the tent, dismounted, and was lost to sight within ber canvas borne.

Yes, she WM beautiful, this white woman! No wonder the Panther left the arms of his poor Indian wife to follow ber up! Waunita turned away, sick at heart, fully persuaded of the treachery of Munro, yet blaming, with all the intensity of her wild nature, this woman sbe dee rued had robbed her of all she held dearest in this world—the heart of her husband.

0

She pursued her solitary way back towards the lodge of Mahkewa. Suddenly the bushes at the side of the path she was pursuing parted, and Grey Eagle Htood before her. He gazed at her a moment in silence. •'Is Waunita lost?" said he, slowly, "she is far from the lodges of her tribe." "Waunita is not lost," she replied "She came here to be with the Panther But Grey Eagle, too, is a lotfg way from his people. What does he here?" "Grey Eagle's camp ia near here," replied the Indian. "His work is here but it will soon be done,—and then he will return to his people. Why is Waunita so far from her husband's lodge?"

Waunlta's home is with Mahkewa," replied the girl dropping her eyes, "and it is not far away."

Grey Eigle gazed for a moment at her with «n expression of surprise, which gradually changed to one of deed compassion. Then he said, "Grey Eagle will take Waunita to the lodge of Mah kewa," and, taking her hand in his, as if she had been a child, he led her in the direction of bor home.

It was on the afternoon of the same day. Munro was wandering in the woods in tho vicinity of Fairfax'* camp. He made up his mind that time pressed, and that foul work he designed to do must be done quickly.

He heard a distant rifle-shot, and went quickly in its direction, cautiously watching through the trees to catch a glimpse of the hunter. Finally he reached the edge of a little plateau, the ground sloping from his feet gently to a forest glade. Some distance away he

saw

Fairfax, bis riile carelessly resting in the hollow of his left arm, moving toward tho shore, which was not far away.

Stepping behind a tree, Munro drew bis rifle to his shoulder, and aimed at the unconscious young mau. He paused au instant—and the magnitude of the crime he was about to commit flashed across his mind, Gambler, roue, scoundrel that he had been tor years, he had never yet taken human life. Then flashed over hitn the thought of Fairfax Hall and the fortune that might be his, wore Fairfax once out of the way. His hand waited, his Anger still on the trigger. Then the image of Doris Uurnhatn came up before his mental vision, and as the woods iu which she rejected him came over him his linger pressed the trigger and the rifle's sharp report rang out.

As the muscles of his arm contracted, however, Fairfax suddenly stopped, intending to drop on his knee, tho better to take aim at a squirrel he suddenly saw. Munro saw the act, but it was too late. His own shot followed the same instant. Brief as was the instant of time, it saved Fairfax's life, as Munro ball passed through bis cap instead of his brain, as he was in the act of kneel-

feunro dropped to the ground, and, with the tree shielding him, crawled rapidly backward until he was hidden from view. Then rising to his feet he dashed rapidly away, though a clump of underbrush, ana so made his escape in the forest.

Fairfax felt the ball cat through his cap and heart! its spiteful "zip" as It passed over bis head. He turned

tonlshment.

ID

A

as

faint wreath of blue

smoke floating off through tbe trees showed him whence it had come. With a shrill whistle to Seth, he went back to the spot. He could see no one, nor did the scattered, sodden leaves oft the ground show any trace of his assailant's footsteps. "Hey, Cap! What's the matter? What did ye kill called Seth, appearing at this juncture. "I killed nothing: but I came very nearly being killed myself," was Fairfax's reply, as he removed his cap and held it out to the old trapper. "Jewhilllkina! but that was a dose call, sure enough!" said the latter.

Who d'ye spoee did It?" The two men discussed the matter at length, but could arrive to no satisfactory solution of the affair. Fairfax was disposed to treat it aa a chance ahot of Mme hunter, who saw him indistinctly through the woods, aod who. mortified at his mistake, fled without revealing himself. Seth scratched his bead, aod delivered himself that it was "a *oshdaracd queer go, aod be bfiwved thar was too many Injuns round ia these diKgin*', anyhow!" 8o, after some more fruitless specula tioo, they moved away, aod took the path leading to their oamp.

CHAPTER IX. KOIXITO.

It was the tie xt morning. The mist hang Ofwr the surface of the ta£kt

and the sun had not yet risen to dispel it. In a boat were Jotham and Doris, the latter intently engaged in fishing, the former managing the boat, bnt finding time, however, to catch as many fish as his mistress. "Jotham, are you getting hungry said Doris, baiting her hook anew, and throwing it far out into the water. "Tolable," answered the boy, intently watching his boat. "Think I could eat 'bout half a bam fried, if I had it. Bnt I ain't as hungry as these here fish are." "Jotbam, how do you like living here in the woods?" "Tolable. Gittin' ready to go back, though, when you folks is ready," and Jotbam began to whistle in a low tone. "Jotbam, don't you know that you will have no luck fishing if you whistle on the water "Yes'm, ®o I've heard," said Jotnau), pulling a fine fish from the water as he spoke. "Don't alleis hold good, though." "Well, I should think not!" was Doris's reply. "Hist! what is that

Both sat still and listened, On the one side the shore and forest could be seen dimly outlined through the mist. In all other directions its gray blanket shut down, obscuring the view entirely. The islands were entirely hidden. But from out the fog on the lakeward side came the sound of the strokes of a padpie. "Who can that be, Jotbam?" "Don't know. Mabbe it's Seth or Mr. Fairfax." "Supposeyou bail them, Jotbam?"

For reply, the boy placed his fingers in bis mouth and blew a shrill blast, that was echoed back to them from the rocky shore. The strokes of the paddle ceased, and all was silent.

Jotbam again woke the echoes with his whistle. The sound began again, and soon grew louder as if approaching nearer. Then the dim outline appeared through the midst of a solitary Indian in his canoe. As he approached, Doris saw that it was Gray Eagle. "It is the Indian who gave me the fish, Jotbam," said the in a low tone.

Grey Eagle, recognizing them, altered bis course slightly to bring him alongside. Reaching over the side of his canoe, be lifted a string of magnificent fish for their inspection. "Oh, what fine fish J" exclaimed Doris. "Golly!" said Jotham. "Say, where did you ketch 'em

The Indian pointed over in the direction of the nearest island, and replied: "The fish are plenty there. The white girl will find them just beyond the point of the island that goes toward the setting sun." Then, with a gesture of farewell, he picked up his padule, and soon disappeared in the fog in the direction of the shore. "Jotham, we must go over there and try oar luck," said I)oris to her boatman. "Guess BO. But hadn't we better get some breakfast first Mr. Burnliam will be gettin' pretty hungry if we don't get back." "Oh, Jotham, you are longing for your breakfast yourself!" laughed the girl. "However, we have plenty for our morning meal. Let us go back home."

Jotbam was not slow to adopt a suggestion which chimed in so well with his own inclinations, and speedily brought the boat to the landing place near the tents.

Half an hour afterwards Mr. Burnbam and his daughter sat down to breakfast. The flap of the tent was thrown back, giving an uninterrupted view of the lake. The mist was rising rapidly, and one by one-the islands appeared, great masses of green set in the placid surface of the lake, whict hardly stirred by the morning air.

As they ate, Doris chatted with her father, relating to him her adventures of the morning on her fishing excursion.

Indeed, papa, I must go over to the island fishing. I must, indeed. May I take Jotham with me?" "When do you wish to go, Doris? This mornint? again "Ob, no! I have had all the fishing I wish for this morning. Besides, I want to take a run through the woods on horseback. The day is too beautiful to stay indoors, and the chnrms of the for est are superior to those of the lake." "When do you wish to go, then "Why, papa, Jotbam thinks that towards evening would be an excellent time for fishing. So, if you have no ob jectlon, I shall take him to row me over beyond the point of that nearest island after an early tea." "Just as you please, Doris. By the the way, what has become of Mr. Fair fax, do you suppose? I have seen noth ing of him or the trapper for the past two days." "I am sure I do not know, papa, suppose they are too busy at wildwood sport to think of visiting us." "Horse's ready. Miss," said Jotham appearing at the door. "Very well, Jotham. I will soon be ready,and Doris disappeared within her sanctum to make ready for her ride.

After her q§Mtersation with her father it was not strange that her mind was OC' cupled with thoughts of Sidney Fairfax She rode through the forest in the bright sunshine, and the sudden impulse came over ber to pay Fairfax and the trapper an impromtu visit.

But the camp was silent and deserted A slender wreath of light-blue smoke circled from the top of the wide chimney, showing that tbey had not been long gone, however but Doris turned away, with a feeling of disappointment that sbe had not caught a glimpse of the bright handsome face of the young man. eanwbile Seth and Fairfax were a couple of miles away on the shore of the bay. The latter had long oontemplated bunting trip in that direction, and this morniug had determined to make it.

The mysterious shot, of which be was so nearly the victim, had passed from his mina, and he was thinking cf Doris BurnhMn as he strode away by the side of the trapper. The young girl bad made a deep impression upon him. She would have been most attractive amid a bevy of girls of her own age bnt coming upon ber in the wilderness, where he nad not seen the face of a white worn an fcr more than six months, it was not strange that abe should be doubly attractive.

Indeed, the girl was in his thoughts by day and his dreams by night. He had awakened to the knowledge of the fact that be was in love with ber, and be had foagbt against it. While he was not poor, he could not offer to ber a home that would at all equal the one to which she was accustomed from ber childhood and with an honest feeling at his heart that it would not be right for him to attempt to engage her affections under such circumstances, he had for the past two days absented himself from her father's amp.

Bat he missed ber bright face, ber pleasant conversation, the companionedoof

ship of her father, who was an man—and after his tons stay

'W\i'

ooeted In the

wilder nws, with only Seth for a companion, he found In the society of both great attraction, aaJde from Doris's bright eyes sod sweet face. "Ah, were I the heir of Fairfax Ban, how gladly would I t«U ber bow I lovs ber T'was his unspoken thought. "Gosh!" broke from Seth at this

TERRB riADTK SATOSDAT JDV SWUNG MAIL.

ment," "Look thar now. Gap.' Fairfax halted by his companion's side, and glanced in the direction indi cated by his outstretched finger.

Tbey had stumbled upon the lodge of Mahkewa. Afire was burning in front and over it the old woman was bending preparing the morning meal. The flap of the

IOOSL

!ge was open, and within, on aunita, her babe in

Eilearms.

of skins, sat

er Fairfax recognized Mahkewa as the old woman who had warned Mm, such a mysterious manner, that he had an enemy. His thoughts instantly reverted to the shot which had been fired at him the previous afternoon. Did the old woman's warning point to this? Had she any knowledge of the person who fired tne shot? "I've seen that old critter snootln' around through the woods," said Seth, "bnt I never knew where she hung out till this mortal minute. I wonder where the men are?" "Let us go talk to her," said Fairfax Accordingly they approached the lodge

Mahkewa noted their approach. She only stepped back and dropped the fly of the tent, thus concealing Waunita then she went on broiling the fish over the fire.

Seth addressed her, greeting her in the Indian tongue. She replied briefly. Fairfax then removed his cap, and holding it out to her, pointed to the bullet-hole. Mahkewa instantly became interested. Extending her skinny band she took it, and examined the bullethole intently. Then looking up into Fairfax's face, she said to him, in Indi an, "How happened this?" "Tell her, Seth," said Fairfax.

Seth briefly explained the circumstances, wondering to himself why Fairfax should take the trouble of inform ing this old Indian crone of this.

Turning her beady eyes on I and poinung_to the bullet-hole, Mahke-

wa spoke in English "Did not Mahkewa tell the white bun ter an enemy was on bis track Tbe Great Spirit was kind to him, and kept him from barm." "But who fired the shot? Do you know that demanded Fairfax. "The hunter must watch for his foe He will not stop at this." "But who is my enemy

Mahk ewa has spoken. Let the white hunter beware!" And picking up tbe fish, the old woman turned away and entered the lodge.

Fairfax turned and walked away, fol lowed by Seth. "What on airth did Bhe mean by that? Had she been talkin' to you before tbis, Gap?" inquired be.

Fairfax acquainted tbe hunter with all that bad transpired daring tbe previous meeting on tbe shore of the lake. "Wall, that beats tbe Jews! The old devil knows more about that shot than sbe

wftutB

to tell,

Bure

enough! Now

who could she mean "That is just what I should like to find out," replied Fairfax "There's a young brave around these woods that calls himself Grey Eagle," returned Setb, musingly. "I never hit on bis camp, and I shouldn't wonder if that squaw and pappose that was inside tbe tent belonged to him. Now, QOOIS it have been that feller Did you\e?er meet him, Cap "Never," returned Fairfax. "He's a rather good-lookin' cuss for an Indian," returned Seth, "and mighty friendly, too. I don't see what he would want to pick you off for, though. But I'll find him mighty soon—to-morrow 8ure—and I'll Bee what he knows about tbfltshot

And the two men passed on, intent on tbe day's sport. But all tbe pleasure was gone from the bright day for Fairfax. The thought that a secret foe was on bis track, was terrible.

He determined as soon as they returned to camp, to go over to Mr. Burn ham and acquaint blm with the mysteri ous circumstances.

CHAPTER X. -LOST. "•'I

The sun had turned bis course west ward the same day. and Doris, return ing from ber ride, had found the day so warm that sbe was glad to sit quitely within the tent, protected by the giant trees that overshadowed it from tbe sun's piercing rays. She grew tired of reading, and taking a book in ber band strolled along the bluff overlooking the lake, until she found a convenient seat

The book had little attraction for her and sbe gazed down at tbe clear, green water lapping tbe rooks, and so shallow that tbe pebbly bottom waB clearly visa ble. "How cool the water looks this hotaf ternoon,"sbe mused. And with this idea came the thought that it would be

Sepths

leasant to batbe in the transparent into which sbe was gazing. "I'll try it I" thought Doris, and she returned to tbe tent. Placing her book on the table, she speedily improvised a bathing snit, ana making it up in a bundle sbe returned along the rocks looking for a suitable spot to enter the water.

This

sbe

soon found. It was a little

bay, formed by the band of nature. On each side were tbe walls of rock stretch ing out into the water, which was shal low enough to enable her tu enter with perfect safety. The treee and bushes on top of the rocks grew to tbe very edge, while at the innermost point of tbe little bay a huge rock lay on tbe beach overgrown with bushes and small trees Behind it there was thus a natural dressingroom, with walls of rock twelve or fifteen feet high on cwo sides, while the rock shielded her from observation in front, and badthere been any boat on the lake from which she might have been

Men

while the branches overhead

screened her completely from tbe sun and sky. Finding a spot at which she could clamber down to the water's edge, sbe withdrew into this triangular little place, and in a few mina tea she emerged, ready for the water.

It was anew pleasure of ber life in the woods. Hie water was cool enough to be grateful, yet not enough to chill ber unpleasantly. Tbe yellow sand was smooth and firm, and her rosy, dainty little feet did not even leave their prints as she entered the water.

Doris did not dream that tbeie was a hidden watcher of her gambols in tbe water. But on the edge of tbe bluff, at one side of tbe little bay, in a dense little thicket of underbrush, crouched Wannita, gazing upon her.

Hie poor Indian girl wa* restless and unhappy. She had gone to tbe camp of the Panther, bnt finding him absent, ber jealous mind imagined that he must have gone to visit tbe girl she imagined was ber successful rival, and sbe bad turned her steps In the direction of Mr. Burn ham's tent.

She had Mngered within eyeshot of the camp for some time, but it appeared to be deserted. Then she saw Doris return to prepare for ber bath, and when she retraced ber steps to the lake, Waunita had cautiously followed her.

Seeing Doria decend the hand, the jealous fear* of tbe Indian girl, who still possessed tbe idee that Monro most be near, led her to cautiously approach the cove and peer ever tbe edge of the diff.

When Wannita had esconsced herself I wss no sign of Doris. But there was in the little thicket, and, carefully part-1 black bank of clouds ia the northwest, ing the branches which obscured her and the surface of the lake was rippling view, she fully expected to see Munro and Doris below. Instead to her great surprise, sbe saw Doris just plunging into the clear waters of the lake, ana langhing gleefully to herself as she shook the crystal drops from her pretty brown hair.

She gazed upon the beautiful girl, unable to repress her admiration, even thought she considered the white girl to be her rival in the affections of Munro. Doris was a rival, it is true—but a most unwilling one. It would have saved soi row had Waunita known the true state of tbe case.

Like a tiger-cat watching its prey, the Indian girl lay in a covert formed by the dense shrubbery, and gazed with flaming eyes upon the unconscious girl.

And when tbe fair bather, grown tired of sporting like a Nereid in the clear, warm water of the lake, had resumed her steps homeward, Waunita followed her, like a hound upon the trail. ...»

The sun was declining in the west as Doris, refreshed by a meets, made her pearance before her father, who. with

SET

runderneath

writing desk upon a camp-table, bad

a huge

tree in front of the tent. Mr. Bnrnham's eyes rested upon the fair girl with pleasure. She wore a brown suit which fitted her supple figure to perfection. A jaunty cap was on her head, a sable plume encirceling it. A bit of scarlet ribbon at her neck added bright color to relieve the effect of the dark drees that she wore, and the only ornament discernible was a little gold cross suspended by a slender chain about her neck—a gift of her mother's, very much prized by Doris, and worn almost constantly.

Her father's eje, lingering lovingly upon his daughter, took in all these details, not dreaming that they were trifles that he should remember for days, amid the suffering that was to come to him. "Good-by, papa! I am going. to try my luck fishing again!" said she, stepping to his side and kissing his cheek. "Indeed! You are growing extremely fond of the gentle sport, are you not? Or is it that you are becoming fonder of a fish diet, you little gourmand Did not yon get enough fishing this morning?" "Oh, but that yoang Indian caught Buch large fish over beyond the point of that island, that I wish to try my fortune there also." "Very well, my dear. Whese is Jotham "Indeed I do not know. I will call him."

But Jotham did not answer. He was gone from the camp, and Doris and her father, seeing that his beloved old mHSket was also missing, soon came to the conclusion that he was indulging in a private expedition in the woods. "That is too bad, Doris. You should have told Jotham that you wanted him to row you over, this evening," said Mr. Burnham. "I did, papa, but he has forgotten it, I suppose. Never mind I will take the small boat, and go myself." "Very well, dear. I should go with you, except that I am expecting a boat along from Buffalo this evening, and 1 must have aome letters ready to go with it," was ber father's response.

With a cheery good-by, and another kiss upon Mr. Burnbam's cheek, Doris was gone. In a few moments ber father, glancing down to tbe lake, saw ber rapialy pulling ber boat in the direction of tbe point. Sbe stopped rowing an instant, waved her hand toward him, and again resumed her course.

Mr. Burnham busily engaged himself in wilting, and an hour afterward, as he concluded his task, he bad scarcely closed his desk, when Fairfax aud Seth ftDPOflrod*

Mr. Burnham was unaffectedly glad to see the young man, for whom he had conceived a great liking. They Btepped inside the tent and took seats. "Mr. Burnham," said Fairfax, "I have determined to ask your opinion of some circumstances that have recently happened to me. There may be nothing in either of them, yet when put together tbey form a most striking coincidence." "Certainly, Mr. Eairfax. If there is anything I can do to aid you in any way, pray command me," was the courteous reply.

Fairfax thereupon reiated briefly his first meeting with old Mahkewa, and tbe mysterious warning she then gave him. Then he told of the shot that came so near ending his own life and finally told of his second rencontre with the old Indian woman that morning, in front of her lodge on the shore of the bay. "And now, Mr. Burnham," said Fairfax, in conclusion, "whatinterpretation do yon put on these circumstances?" 'I hardly know," was the reply. "It seems strange that you should have a deadly enemy, one who would aim at your life, here in the wilderness—and still more strange that tbe old squaw should know of it. Did you leave any enemv behind you when you came to the West—I beg your pardon for asking —who would follow you "I have not an enemy in the wide world that I am conscious of," was Fairfax's straightforward reply "And have you bad no dc any Indians sinse you have been bare Have you made an enemy of any of them, even in a trivial way "I have seen but one or two—this old woman of whom I spoke, and a young man, a hunter, apparently, whom I have seen once or twice. There has not been another in this neighborhood since we haye been encamped nere." "It is very strange, mused Mr. Burnham. "I am inclined to think that, somehow, you have innocently done something to anger some Indian, who is endeavoring to avenge himself upon yon. It seems hardly possible, however."

Tbey discussed tbe matter some time longer, but could arrive at no solution of the mystery. "Supper's ready !"*said Jotbam, ap•aring at tbe door of the tent.

Fairfax and Setb accepted the invitation to join Mr. Burnham at tbe table, and tbe party adjourned to tbe other tent. "Where is Miss Born ham inquired Fairfax, after they were seated at tbe supper labia. has gone over bevond the point of that Island to the left—the nearest one—to try fishing. By the way, Jotbam I thought you were to accompany her? Where were you this afternoon

Jotham started, and a look of pexplexity came over his honest features, "Gosh hang it!" he exclaimed. "Sure enough, Miss Doris did say we would go over and try tbe place where tbe Injun caught his ten. I dean forgot all about It."

Where were yon repeated Mr. Burnham. "Why, I heard a squirrel ssssin' up there in the woods piece, snd went np to git a crack at him. Couldn't find him, though."

Suppose yon see if Doris is coming," said Mr. Burnham. Tbe sun's disc wss just resting on tbe surface of tbe lake on the western horizon as Jotham went out to look. Then

under tbe rising breeze from that quar ter. "Can't see anything of her," was Jotham's report. But Mr. Burnham was busily engaged in conversation, and hardly noted tne reply. Doria was so much her own mistress thst her fsther never dreamed that danger could befall her when she was off on one of her little jaunts.

The group about tbe table sat long, Mr. Burnham having become interested in the account Fairfax gave him of his early life in England. When they rose, the dusk was approaching rapidly.

Mr. Burnham started on observing how late it was. "Why does not Doris come?" he exclaimed, stepping out to where he could have an uninterrupted view of tbe water to the island toward which Doris had gone.

There was no sign of the girl or her boat. The wind had increased rapidly, and the water was already rough, while the storm-elouds had increased until they covered half the heavens. "Jotbam!" called Mr. Burnham, in a quick, excited tone. "Here!" was tbe answer, and Jotham appeared from the brush stables, currycomb in hand. "Here, quick! We must go for Doris!" and Mr. Burnham started for the landing. "Allow me, Mr. Burnham," said Fairfax. "Let Setb and myself go."

A hurried celloquy ensued. Seth finally took command. "Here, you Jotbam! It's going to be black as thunder inside of half an hour. Build a bright fire right here on the beach just as close to tbe water as you can without the waves reaching it. Here," said he picking up apiece of driftwcod, and placing it at a suitable spot. "Build up a regular bonfire, so that we can't miss seein' it on the way back. Keep it buruin' till we come, too!" and tbe three men entered the boat, Mr. Burnham steering, and Fairfax and Seth pulling lustily at the oars.

Even with the wind dead against ber, it did not take many minutes for the boat, manned by such strong and willful arms, to round the wooded point of the island. There was no sign of Doris or her boat. "Run her on the beach!" said Setb. "It's sand, and slopes gently!"

In a micute or two the boat was beached and tbe three sprang out. The, point was long and narrow, and it did not take ten minutes to determine that Doris was not there. A search along the shore, until the northern point of the island was rounded, was equally fruitless. There was no sign of the missing girl. "My God! My poor Doris!" moaned the agonized father. "What has (happened to her?" "Take courage, Mr. Burnham," said Fairfax. There can hardly anything serious have happened her, although it seems strange that she has not returned. Perhaps she ran straight for land when she saw tbe storm coming, and then went on foot to camp

This conjecture seemed reasonable, as the island was considerably to the westward of the camp, and the run to shore, in a direct line, was more than a third shorter than the course to be taken to reach tbe camp. "That may be true!" was Mr. Burnham's reply, in a tone of relief. "Let us return at once

Setb raised the sail, and took tbe tiller. Under the strong breeze the boat flew over tbe foam-tipped waves like a bird. Tbe beacon flre built by Jotham flamed redly against the black background of forest, and Seth directed his course straight for it.

As they came nearer, they could see Jotham piling on wood and brush, and they strained their eyes to see if more than one form could be discerned around the fire—for, if Doris had returned, she would be anxiously awaiting her father's return, despite tbe rain that was begin ning to fall.

Finally the boat's keel grated on the pebbly beach, and the three men sprang out. Seth grasped the rope and began drawing her up tbe beach, beyond the reach of the waves. "Is Doris here?" was the frenzied inquiry of Mr. Burnham, as he reached the spot where Jotham stood.

A shake of the bead was his reply. "My God What has become of her?" shrieked the anguished father,

Just then the storm burst in fury, and Ihe rain poured down in sheets. The whole party proceeded to tbe tents, and Fairfax did all that he could to comfort Mr. Burnham.

Seth, meanwhile, was busily engaged in preparing torches. In hall an hour the violence of the storm was over and the rain ceased. The broken clouds covered tbe face of the sky, and the wind was going down, but the heavy rollers still beat in thunderous pulsations on tbo 56&cb*

The torches were lit, and the whole party went along the lake westward, scouring the woods for some trace of Doris. There was still a hope that she bad run straight to land, and might have been caught by the storm in tbe forest,

They had reacned in their search 8 spot nearly on a line with tbe extremity of the point of tbe island when a cry from Seth brought them to the beach.

Doris's overturned boat lay on the beach, the oars still in tbe rowlocks There was no sign of tbe missing girl! [TO BE CONTINUED.]

1 was confined to my bed for six weeks with rheumatism in my leg. Athlophores cured me. It is a medicine well worthy of patronago and does all that is claimed for it in curing rheumatism. Ex-policeman John McGrath, LaFayette, Ind.

It will tako three months and f2,000 to mount Jumbo.

If you would have appetite, flesh, color, strength, and vigor, take Ayer's Sarsaparllla, that Incomparable tonic and blood purfier.

Tbe world does not owe anybody "a living" tUl be has earned it.

For weak lung*, spitting of blood, shortness of breath, consumption, nigbtsweata and all lingering coughs, Dr. Pierce's "Golden Medical Discovery" is a sovereign remedy. Superior to cod liver oil. By druggists.

Most of tbe successful railroad men of tbe country started oot as poor boys.

There'* nothing ba'f so sweet in lifer' S fNext to tbe Joys of home and wife) Am fragrant breath, and pearly teeth, Wlthhard and rosy gams beneath— And see these ebarau

of

which we sing

Have from sweet SOZODOKT their spring

Irreproachable

Not one word of censure tiiinnstly tittared against SOZODOXT. No other dentifrice makes tbe teeth so entirely free from every objectionable ingredient.

What

SPALDIHO'S GLUE

has joined

csnnot be pot ssunder. 17-6 w.

AN ENGLISHMAN'S TESTIMONY. I feel it my duty to the thonsands wha suffer trom Blood Poison to give my ex-

perience with that horrible disease and tbe wonderful effect of Swift's Specificin its treatment. I am a native of England. and while there I contracted this, terrible disease, and for two years was under treatment as an out-door patient at Nottingham Hospital, England, but was not cured. I suffered the most agonizing pains in my bones, and was covered with sores all over my body and limbs. I had vertigo and deafness, with partial loss of sight, severe pains in my head and eyes, etc., which nearly ran me crazy. I lost all hope in that country, aud sailed for America, and was treated at Roosevelt in this city, as well as by a prominent physician in New York having no connection with the hospitals.

I saw the advertisement of Swift's Specific, and I determined to give it a trial as a last resort. I had given up all hope of being cured, as I had through tbe bands of the best mt men in Nottingham and New York. I took six bottles of S, S. S. and I say with great joy that they have cured me entirely. 1 am sound and well as I ever was in my life. I was so proud of the cure that I wrote to Gloucester, England, to an old compauion whe is suffering with locomator ataxia, as thedoctors call it, caused by Blood Poison. He has arrived here, and is taking S. S. S. with marked benefit. I confidently believe that in a short time be will be entirely well, and that after having passed through the best medical bands ia England without any good effect.

L. FRED HALFORD.

New York City, June 12th. 1885. Treaties on Blook snd Skin Diseases mailed free.

THE SWIFT SPECIFIC CO., Drawer 3, Atlanta, Ga., N. Y., 157 W. 23d street.

A. Great Discovery.

Mr. Wm. Thom»s, of Newton, la,,, ys: "My wife has been seriously affected with a cough for twenty-five years, and this spring more severely than ever ihe bad used manv remedies

before. Sr without relief, and being urged to try Dr. King'" New Discovery, did so, witn most gratifying results. The first bottle relieved her very much, and the second bottle has absolutely cured her. She has yye Trial Bottles Free at Cook 6 Bell's Drug

»y

not bad so good health for thirty years.'* Trial Bottles Free at Coc Store. Large size $1.00.

-6-

Never Uive Up.

If you are suffering with low and depressed spirits, loss of appetite, general debility, disordered blood, weak constitution, headache, or any disease of a bilious nature, by all means procure a bottle of Electric Bitters. You will be surprised to seo the rapid improvement that will follow yon will be inspired with new life Btrength and activity will return pain and misery will cease, and henceforth you will rejoice in the praise of Electric Bitters. Sold at fifty cents a bottle bjr Cook & Bell. (0)

Bncklen's Arnica Salve. The Best Salve in the world for Cuts,Bruises,. Sores, Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Fever Sores, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and all skin eruption*, and positively cures Piles, or no pay required. It is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction, or money refunded. 25o per box. For sale by Cook A Beil. (tf.)

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