THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES MACON MOORE. SOUTHEEN DETECTIVE, By JUDSON E. TAYLOE, AUTHOR OF "GIPSY BLAIR," "THE INDIAN DETECTIVE," Etc. NEW YORK: J. S. OGILVIE & COMPANY, 25 Rose Street. Copyright, 1881. BY STREET & SMITH. CHAPTER. PAGE. I. A LIVING MAN'S DEATH-PLATE 19 II. A STRANGE DISCOVERY 22 III. THE MAN IN A LONG CLOAK 25 IV. ONE MAN DEFIES A DOZEN 28 V. OPENING UP A DEATH- TRAIL 30 VI. A ROGUE UNMASKED 33 VII. A MOST EXTRAORDINARY RUSE 36 VIII. SOME ACCOUNT OF QIIR HERO 39 IX. A RETURN SHOT. ....*. 42 X. ONE TO TEN 44 XI. IN A "PEACEFUL" DISGUISE BUT. BELLIGERENT MOOD 47 XII. MACON MOORE'S FIGHT WITH THE NIGHT RIDERS 50 XIII. COLONEL YENNI GETS THE NEWS 53 XI V. A SMALL FIGHT WITH A RED MAN 55 XV. A STRANGE TABLEAU 59 XVI. SURROUNDED BY FOES 61 XVII. THE DETECTIVE RECOGNIZED 64 XVIII. COLONEL YENNI'S DISCOVERY 67 XIX. PREPARING FORA THIRD STARTLING FEAT 70 XX. ON THE ROAD TO THE VALLEY OF DEATH 73 XXI. MACON MOORE WINS BY COOLNESS 77 XXI r. THE DETECTIVE IN THE VALLEY OF DEATH 80 XXIIL PREPARING FOR ANOTHER GREAT FEAT 83 XXIV. OUR HERO IN His GREATEST ROLE 86 XXV.- I AM MACON MOORE" 89 XXVL THE DETECTIVE BROUGHT TO BAY 92 XXVII. NUMBER NINE'S PERIL 94 XXVIII. ANOTHER NEW DISGUISE 97 XXIX. PICKING UP THE POINTS 100 XXX. COLONEL YENNI RECEIVES A VISITOR 103 8 XXXI. A RIDER'S BOASTS... 105 XXXII. LEADING FOR A TRAIL.... 108 ^, XXXIII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY Ill XXXIV. MACON MOORE IN A CORNER 114 XXXV. OUR HERO GETS OUT OF A CORNER AND TURNS TUETABLES.H? XXXVL THE PURSUIT... 119 XXXVII.-lN A DILEMMA 12 XXXVII I. AN EXTJi AORDINARY ANTAGONIST 125 XXXIX.-AT His MERCY 128 XL. MASTER OF THE FIELD 13 XLT. AN EVENTFUL MOMENT 13 < XLTI. THROWING OFF THE DISGUISE 13 XLlir. ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE DETECTIVE 138 XLIV. THE SECRET PASSAGE 14 XLV. TH E ESCAPE 144 XLVT. LUCY'S DISAPPEARANCE... 146 XLVIL RESCUED 149 XLVIII. THE DETECTIVE'S HOPE 152 XLIX. A WEIRD SCENE 155 L. THE WORK DONE. 158 449689 cc w 1 g fcj MACON MOOKE, THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. CHAPTEE I. A LIVING MAN'S DEATH-PLATE. "Whoa, there, Dandy! whoa! what's the matter with you, old boy? Whoa, there, whoa!" A horseman had been riding along a mountain road in the wildest district in the State of Georgia. The night was dark, and a wild storm was raging. The lightning flashes came bright and quick, followed by terrific peals of thunder. The rider had been urging his horse forward, and the spirited animal had dashed ahead over the road at a mad rate, when sud denly he came to a dead halt, planted his fore-feet firmly in the ground, and throwing his ears forward, presented a perfect picture of equine terror. The rider was evidently not only an excellent horseman, but a man of iron nerve, as he hardly moved in his saddle when the horse came to such a sudden stop, and there was not the slight est tremor in his voice as he quietly, biit firmly, urged his steed forward. Finding that urging did not serve the purpose, the rider re sorted to more severe measures, and plunging his spurs into the animal's flanks, exclaimed: "On there, you coward! Forward, I say!" The animal backed, reared, and plunged, and snorted in the most violent manner. " What on earth has frightened him?" muttered the rider, as he buried the spurs still deeper into the flanks of the frightened beast, and thus tried to force him forward. 20 MACON MOORE, The animal became more frantic and furious, when his rider exclaimed: " What has got into the beast? He must have seen something extraordinai'y to act in this way!"' Macon Moore, the great Southern detective, well knew the disposition of the horse. Both horse and rider had often been in perilous positions, and the former had never quailed before. The horseman leaned forward over his horse's neck and peered through the darkness to discover what had caused such a display of fear. Suddenly a brighter flash of lightning than any that had pre ceded it came, and our hero caught a momentary glance of an object that caused his own blood to turn cold. It certainly must have been a startling sight that could cause one nerve of the iron frame of Macon Moore to quiver. Right before our hero's path lay a new coffin. It was this, weird symbol of death that had caused the horse to rear and prance with frantic- fury. In an instant the bold rider was out of his saddle. As he struck the ground, an observer would have noticed that Macon Moore was not a man of large stature or stout frame; and yet later events will prove that he WHS a fellow possessed of almost superhuman strength and nerves of steel. The man never lived whose personal appearance served as a more, perfect mask to his real powers, both mental and physical. Macon Moore, the detective, was a true type of a genuine, hot-blooded, cultured Southerner. He was of slender build and of medium height, possessed small, classic features, a clear, girl-like blue eye flashing under a white, smooth forehead the latter fringed by light hair. This extraordinai'y man possessed certain peculiar physical advantages that enabled him to successfully assume disguises that no other man would dare attempt. A person coming into his presence would set him down men tally as a rather pretty, effeminate young gentleman, who had just escaped being born a woman; and yet some of the most desperate criminals in the South and Southwest would rather have faced in combat a grizzly bear than this delicate- appearing man. The moment the detective had dismounted he managed to quiet, to a certain extent, the restless fury of his steed. ing allayed the terror of his horse, the detective drew his masked lantern, and, with his bridle swung across his arm, he advanced toward the death-casket. A most thrilling discovery fell under his gaze. A large placard, lettered with blood-red figures, served as a coffin-plate. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. ill The letters had been written in blood, and read as follows: A strange glitter came into the detective's eyes, and a red spot glowed upon each cheek as his eye rested upon the significant warning, conveyed in such a weird and suggestive manner. "Aha!" he muttered, in an undertone; " they expect me! they have had a spy upon my track! they have my movements down fine!" The detective slid the mask of his lantern, and led his horse past the death-casket, when he mounted and rode on through the darkness as unconcernedly as though he had passed under an arch of flowers, with a welcoming motto, instead of over a coffin bearing his death-plate written in letters of blood. Although apparently riding along in such an unconcerned manner, the detective really was intensely on the alert. He Avas like the tiger who curls his claws like a harmless kitten just before the fatal leap. Macon Moore knew from the position of the coffin that the men who had spread out the grim warning knew not only his probable route but the hour of his coming. The meaning of that coffin, with its strange inscription, was this: "One side is life; beyond, death. Turn back, and live! advance, itit.tl die!'''' The steel-nerved man rode on but a short distance when he dismounted, and from his saddle-bags drew four hoof-muffles. Having placed them on his horse Dandy, he once more mounted and road ahead. The detective's well-trained horse appeared to know that silence was necessary, as he but lightly touched the ground, and seemed to possess an almost human keenness. After riding thus stealthily forward for a few seconds, the de tective came to a turn in the road, and just ahead espied the glimmer of a light. A touch upon the reign caused the horse to come to a halt, and the rider leaned forward to study the character of the gleam of light. 22 MACON MOORE, CHAPTEE II. A STRANGE DISCOVERY. It was a pitch-dark night, and objects at a distance were only revealed in outline, and it took the detective some seconds to fully decide upon the character of the light ahead. As length he discerned that the gleam came through the lower window of a house, and he urged his horse forward a few steps, when once more he came to a halt and dismounted. "Forewarned, forearmed," saith the old proverb, and it was upon the teaching of the above maxim that our hero was pro ceeding. Death might lurk behind a seemingly harmless bush, and an incautious step might bring him dead abreast of a number of ambushed assassins. Macon Moore picketed his horse beside the road, and drawing a pair of revolvers, he cocked them, and, with one in each hand, slowly advanced towards the house. He reached the low dwelling in safety, and stood beside an. open window! He was glancing through the window into the room. A light burned upon the mantel, and shed but a flickering glare around, but dimly revealing a human form lying upon the floor. It was an awful sight that met our hero's eye. Death appeared to be stalking abroad that night, and holding a high carnival, as it was upon a dead form that the brave man's eye fell. A beautiful girl lay upon the floor, her lovely features were rigid in death, and shone under the dull glare of light with such pure whiteness as made the body appear like a clothed statue. Strange sensations filled the heart of the gazer. Never before in all his life had he beheld a face so classically beautiful. Not a living soul appeared to be about, and the detective felt that he was standing under the shadow of a great mystery. Suddenly his eye fell upon a pistol lying upon the floor be side the dead girl. At once, those keen eyes ran over the room, and at length their gaze was fixed upon dark smears upon the wall. That practiced oyc had seen too many such tell-tale stains not to realize at once that the beautiful girl was the victim either of suicide or murder. He left the window and walked around to the door, and entered the room of death. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 23 As lie came nearer and bent over the dead face, a strange thrill stirred his heart. He had never seen that face when living, and yet it seemed as though tears of sadness and sorrow would force themselves unbidden to his eyes. Mechanically he placed his hand over the girl's heart, when in startled tones he ejaculated: "My God!" There was life there! that heart still beat! he had been de ceived by those pale and rigid features. There were no wounds upon the body, although blood-stains smeared several articles about the room. Macon Moore at once applied restoratives. His efforts were speedily rewarded; the seemingly dead girl began to show signs of returning life. Presently a sigh fell from her lips, her rigid features relaxed, and the glow of returning animation tinged her cheeks. Her eyes opened, lovely blue eyes full of tenderness. The detective raised her from the floor, and seated her upon a sofa in the room. The girl opened her lips and murmured: "My poor father!" At the same instant there came the report of a rifle. A convul sion passed over the lovely face, a look of wild terror to the eyes, and our hero feared that she was about to fall into another swoon. In a rich, manly tone, he asked: " What has happened?" " My poor, poor father!" murmured the girl. " Tell me, girl, what has happened?" " They have taken my father away to murder him!" "Who has taken your father away?" "Who are you?" suddenly demanded the fair girl, as full con sciousness of her position appeared to come to her. " I am a friend!" " Your name?" " Should I tell you my name, can I have the assurance that you will never breathe it in another's ear?" " Never." "My name is Macon Moore." "My father's murderer!" almost screamed the girl, as a look of terror overspread her face. "I your father's murderer?" " No, no; excuse me, I spoke rashly!" "I pray you open this mystery to me?" " My father has been accused of conveying information to you!" " What is your father's name?" "Leonard Bridges." 24 MACON MOORE, "There is some mistake here. I never heard your father's name before." ' My father is a clergyman. This is the parsonage. " 'Who accused your father of furnishing information to me?" 'The moonshiners, the distillers." "Tis false!" ' O sir! hasten to -where they have taken him, and, if they have not already murdered him, tell them so; save his life, in Heaven's name, I urge you!" " My dear girl, where have they taken your father?" " I know not; they came here about an hour ago, armed men with their faces masked; they beat the poor old man in my pre sence, trying to get him to confess that he had conveyed in formation to you, and they tried to force information from him." "What information could he give?" "They said he could give information as to your movements and identity." " You say it was but an hour ago they were here?" "Yes." "Did they abuse you?" "No." " How many men were in the party?" " At least a dozen." The detective leaped to his feet. For the first time the eyes of the lovely Lucy Bridges fell upon the man who had so strangely appeared in her presence. Her glance fell upon a delicate-looking man, strikingly hand some, but with a most singular look of courage and determina tion in his blue eyes. "I will save your father if he be still living." Suddenly an idea came to the girl, and she exclaimed: " I dare not ask you to sacrifice your own life for my fa ther's!" " I will act as my own guardian." "But to save him you will be compelled to confess your own identity. 'Tis your life they seek. " " My dear girl, do you mind your promise not to reveal my name, and I'll save your father's life without confessing my own identity. " The man walked toward the door, when once more the beauti ful girl said: "I dare not ask you to rush into peril; you are but a single man against a dozen furious assassins." " My dear lady, remember I am Macon Moore, the detective. I am accustomed to peril, and it matters little from what quar- THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 25 ter it may come; do you but abide your promise and I will mine." Without another word the detective left the house. As the latter passed out one door, a dark-faced man, with a fiendish expression of countenance, and wild, gleaming eyes, en tered at the other and stole noiselessly toward the fair girl, whose back was turned toward him. CHAPTEK HI. THE MAN UT A LONG CLOAK. A new life had opened to Macon Moore. The detective, despite his delicate beauty, had been known as a stern, silent man. It had been said of him that he was a cold, soulless man, to whom the sentiment of love and tenderness was unknown; and yet within a few brief moments the glance of one pair of lovely eyes had stirred emotions as deep, ardent, and tender as ever filled a human soul. Macon Moore had been considerably mystified by the occur rences that had followed since his discovery of the coffin. The man always kept his own counsel; it was his usual prac tice to go about his work in such a mysterious and subtle man ner that he had been styled by criminals the "shadow of death cop. " He wondered that the moonshiners should know of his com ing, and he was still more amazed upon learning that a man had been led forth to death on the charge of being his aide. The girl could not tell him where the assassin had led her father for execution, but our hero speedily formed a suspicion concerning the possible place selected for the tragedy. There was a glen back in the mountains called the "Valley of Death." The name had originally been applied to the dark glen be cause of an Indian massacre that had occurred there many years ago. The name had been sustained in later years, Judge Lynch had held court there many times, and there the stern and rapid sen tences of said court had been carried out. The place had also been the rendezvous of a band of lawless characters, and many a murder had occurred there without being attended with the irresponsible formalities of Judge Lynch. The detective knew of the bridle-path leading to the Valley of 20 MACON MOORE, Death, a short cut to the "Gulch of Skeletons," as it was some times called. The chances were that Leonard Bridges had already been tried, found guilty, and executed; still our hero would not slight even a forlorn hope, and mounting his good steed Dandy, ho started to the glen of dark shadows. Lucy Bridges had said there were twelve of the masked men who had led her father away, but the knowledge of the odds against him did not cause the detective to stop for a single second's consideration. An hour's ride brought Macon Moore to the Valley of Death. The detective entered the glen by a passage walled on either side by overhanging cliffs. Dismounting, our hero picketed his horse, and unslinging a repeating carbine, stealthily advanced towards the heaven- domed hall of justice, where Judge Lynch sat in stern aspect to arbitrate upon life or death. The detective soon came to a little knoll crowned with a num ber of large bowlders, and from this eyrie he commanded a view of the spot where the assassins were gathered. Fortune had favored him. He had arrived before the last act of the tragedy. . A strange sight was presented to his view. A dozen torches had been ranged around, serving the purpose of so many lamps. They had been ranged in regular order, having been stuck in the crevices of rocks, and as they burned in the still air they cast a somber light on surrounding objects. It was evident that the assassins had decided upon a rude imi tation of justice. One of their number sat on an improvised platform of rocks, and the others were gathered around in an artistic group. In the renter of this group of well-armed and masked men stood the prisoner. Macon Moore crept up until he stood on the line of light circled outward from the torches. lie was near enough to see distinctly, and hear as well every word that was spoken. It was a sad sight indeed. The prisoner was a man past sixty, tall of stature, with silver hair crowning handsome and benevo lent face. It was near the close of the trial. The evidence against the accused had evidently been given, and a few moments had been allowed him to speak in his own behalf. The permission was a mere formality a simple mockery of justice. THE SOUTHEEN DETECTIVE. 27 Leonard Bridges spoke in a firm tone, and looked like a very god amidst that band of masked murderers. " My friends, I plead not for my own life; were I alone in the world I would bow my head to the verdict of this informal court, and bid you carry out the sentence, but I have a child a dear and precious child!" Here the strong, brave man's voice broke, and he sobbed and buried his silver-crowned head in his hands. One of the assassins exclaimed in a rude tone: "You have not much time to spare, old man, and you had better employ what time you have in making a confession." ' ' I have told you before that I have no confession to make. I am innocent of the charges you have preferred against me. No matter how little sympathy I may have with law-breakers, I have not made it my business to become an informer, and I have a witness that I am innocent." " Who is your witness?" " God!" answered the prisoner in a solemn tone. " Well, as it ain't likely that you can subpoena your witness, you had better make up your mind to plead guilty and con fess!" " Suppose I do plead guilty and confess?" "Plead guilty and confess, and tell all you know about the movements of Macon Moore, and you are a free man!" " As Heaven is my witness, I could tell you nothing about the movements of the man you name." "We have positive proof that you have." " I swear I have not!" At this moment a most strange and singular incident occurred. A dark figure, shrouded in a long, black cloak, and with a soft hat drawn over his face, advanced and stood among the assas sins. The dark man enveloped in the long cloak appeared as though he had risen from the ground, so strange, silent, and mysterkms was his advent upon the scene. At once the click, click of revolver-locks could be heard, as the assassins prepared to shoot down the intruder at a nod from the president of the informal court. The new-comer advanced and placed himself beside the pris oner. A moment's ominous silence followed, broken at length by the president of the court, who asked: ' Who are you?" ; A stranger." ; What is your business here?" '1 am a witness in behalf of this good and innocent man." ; What do vou know about the matter?" 28 MACON MOORE, "I am ready to swear tliat this man never held communica tion with Macon Moore. " CHAPTER IV. OXE MAN DEFIES A DOZEN. A murmur of surprise passed around the circle of masked men upon hearing this remarkable declaration. The stranger stood erect, but kept the slouched hat drawn well down over his eyes. "Who are you?" demanded the leader of the assassins. " It matters not who I am as long as I am ready to swear that this good old man is innocent." "Do you know what the charge is?" "I do." "Where did you get the information?" "From your own lips." "And you are willing to swear that the prisoner is innocent?" "lam." " If you so swear, you must be in communication with Macon Moore." "lam." Curses arose on every side upon hearing this bold and unex pected acknowledgment. "What proof have we that you will swear to the truth?" "A man would not come here to swear to a lie with death star ing him in the face." "What is your object in coming here?" " I came to save the life of an innocent man." "What proof can you furnish that you are not a fraud?" "The best." "Name it." " First allow your prisoner to go free." " Not until you convince us that you testify truly." "The charge against Mr. Bridges is that he has been, in com munication with Macon Moore?" "That is the charge." 'It is false." ' We only have your declaration." ' No man's declaration is better than mine." ' Who are you?" ' Are you anxious to know who I am?" 'You will tell who you are or take yonder prisoner's place." ' If I offer to take his place, will you let him go free. " "No." THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 29 The stranger laughed in a satirical manner, and the circle of assassins narrowed around him. "You are a daring man," said the president of the court. " I am." " Who are you?" " I am Macon Moore!" and as the stranger spoke he cast aside his cloak and hat and stood like a second Ajax, a perfect picture of courage and defiance. A dozen weapons were aimed at his head, when the president of the court cried : "Hold!" With low-muttered curses the men stayed their hands. " What brought you here?" asked the president. " I came here to testify that this old man is innocent." "Your own life will pay the forfeit." "Not much." The detective spoke in a bold, confident tone. The assassins would have hacked him to mince-meat in a few seconds, but their leader, who was a cautious man, conceived an idea that the detective would not have dared to venture among them alone, " Your life is forfeited," he said. The detective laughed, and, raising his hand, said, in clear, distinct tones: "Do you think Macon Moore a fool? Would he come among you assassins alone? Only listen. The heart of every man here is covered with the muzzle of a rifle. One wave of my hand and I will be surrounded by twelve dead men. " The assassins who had been crowding forward with their wea pons in their hands, suddenly fell back. At the moment the detective's wonderful reputation and iron nerve served him well. The assassins knew that it was characteristic of the man to perpetrate just such a neat piece of strategy. Their weapons were held in paralyzed hands. They were bold men, but to meet death in such a cold-blooded and systematic manner was too much for even their strong nerves. Macon Moore took in the whole situation. He knew that he had not a moment to spare. He was playing a bold game, and it was necessary that he should act with quickness and decision. He placed his hand on the arm of the old man who had been condemned to death, and said, in a loud tone: " Go! Your life is as safe as though you were in the midst of your congregation!" 30 MACON MOORE. As the detective spoke he pointed in the direction where his own good horse Dandy was picketed. * The released prisoner took the hint and moved off in the di rection indicated. Turning towards the masked men the detective folded his arms, and in a clear, distinct tone, said : "Now tell me why was this man's life forfeited on the charge of being my friend?" There came no response to the question. " Speak, murderers!" Still that band of armed men stood silent in the presence of that one man who had so boldly defied them. "Mark my words, assassins. It's lucky for you I came in time to save that man's life! Had one hair of his head been in jured, every mother's son of you would have been planted be side a skeleton in this Valley of Death!" Having thus declared himself, the detective remarked: "We shall meet again!" And turning upon his heel he slowly and deliberately walked away without once turning his head. A few steps and he was without the line of light, and still there stood the band of assassins, armed to the teeth, motion less; not a man dared move; they were under the shadow of the genius of that one man, so delicate in appearance, a woman seemingly in stature, but a perfect lion when aroused. The clergyman had reached the point where the detective's horse was picketed, when he was joined by our hero. 'Mount!" said Moore. ' Have you another horse?" 'Mount, and speak not a word!" ' You are alone?" ' I am alone!" ' Wonderful man! Heaven must have shielded you." 'A life depends upon your silence, good sir! Mount, and we will away ere those murderers be upon our heels." CHAPTEE Y. OPENING UP A DEATH-TRAIL. Macon Moore understood human nature well enough to know that the assassins would speedily recover from their momentary paralyzation. He expected at any moment to hoar the crack of a revolver. Fortunately ho was acquainted with the mountain paths, and the moment the rescued man was mounted he seized Dandy by the bridle and led him forward. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 31 The detective moved cautiously, and at every step was on the alert for a pursuer. When they were some distance from the Valley of Death, and all fear of immediate pursuit was passed, the clergyman asked: "How happened it that you came to my rescue at such an op portune moment?" " It was the merest chance, or Heaven guided me." "Heaven must have guided you, and have protected you." Macon Moore was a man of few words, and had a habit of changing from a general subject of conversation to the business in hand. "You must not return to your house, Mr. Bridges." "Where shall I go?" "Anywhere but to your home." " I must return home." " No; I will attend to your daughter." " You know of my daughter?" The detective related what had transpired during the earlier hoiirs of the evening. " Where would you recommend me to go?" " Do you know of no place down the mountain where you can remain for a few days?" " I have a brother." "Do vou know the road to his house from here?" "I do." "Proceed there at once." "You will need your horse." " No, I will have no need for him; I will be compelled to lie in covert until I am ready to run in on some of the rascals around here who have ruled in such a lawless manner." "You are in government employ?" "I am." "You have undertaken a perilous labor." " I am used to peril. Good-night. I leave you here." "But wait a moment. My child?" "I am going to your home." " You will send her to me?" "I will." And without another word the detective darted* away and disappeared in the darkness. "A wonderful man!" muttered the good old clergyman, as he rode along, silently rendering a prayer of thankfulness at his almost miraculous rescue from a violent death. Macon Moore reached the clergyman's home. It was just past midnight, and yet no light shone through the windows of the parsonage. The storm, in the midst of which we introduced our hero to 32 MACON MOORE, our readers, had been but a fierce shower, which had passed away and had been followed by a beautiful calm. The detective thought it an unfavorable fact that there was no light in the window. It was natural to suppose that the girl would await news of her father's fate. The detective bad promised to return with news, and the fair girl had assured him that she would remain on her bended knees until he came again. Mucon Moore had sufficient experience to know that something unusual had occurred during his absence. With a stealthy step he approached the house, and at the front door came to a halt and listened. Not a sound came to his ears, and after waiting a few seconds he uttered a low signal-call. He expected no answer, and so far his expectations were re alized. Drawing his revolver, he entered the house with noiseless step, and proceeded cautiously, on his guard against a surprise. A moment and he was in the room where he had first beheld the parson's lovely daughter. " Lucy," he called, in a low tone. All was silent, not an answering sound came. The detective drew his dark lantern, and flashed the light around. ^ " My God!" he exclaimed, " could the fiends have murdered one so fair and innocent?" As the man uttered the exclamation he clutched his weapon convulsively, and a tigerish look distorted his handsome face. The evidences of a fearful crime were apparent on every side. His well-trained eye had noted the original blood-stains, but there were fresh ones visible now. Upon the middle of the floor was a pool of blood. The detective bent down over the blood-red testimony to a fiendish act, and saw, mingled with the crimson stain, locks of human hair. He recognized the smeared tresses; he had seen them on a living head. His frame became rigid with horror; great beads of cold sweat stood out upon white forehead. He had studied the evidences of many a terrible crime, but never before one of equal horror. He could not realize that during his brief absence the life of one so fair and beautiful had been mercilessly sacrificed. "Oh! why did I leave her?" he murmured. It seemed as though he had been tantalized by some cruel fate; to catch a glimpse of such a fair vision, and have it shadowed from his brain under a mystery so deep and terrible, caused his heart to almost oease its pulsation. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 33 He was still gazing at the fearful evidence of a terrible crime when a strange sound fell upon his ear. He listened and again he heard a deep moan. Macon Moore had never known before what it was to tremble with fear, and yet at the moment he shook like an aspen-leaf. He had not the courage to go towards the spot whence the sound came. He did not feel that even he could gaze upon the ghastly sight that he dreaded awaited him. Again the moan fell upon his ear. He felt ashamed of his weakness, and started towards the quar ter whence the sound of agony came. Passing out to the hall, he walked along, still on his guard against a surprise. The light of his lamp was flashed in advance, and there upon the floor he saw stretched the form of a negro. The detective spoke to the man, when, with a bound, the fel low sprang to his feet. Macon Moore fixed his keen eyes on the mulatto's face and came to an instantaneous conclusion. The detective felt that he was gazing upon the fiendish linea ments of Lucy Bridge's murderer. CHAPTEE VI. A EOGTJE TJNMASKED. Upon seeing that he was discovered, the man whom the de- ctive aroused dropped upon his knees and, in a most pitiful voice, exclaimed: "Don't kill me, massa! don't kill me!" "Why should I kill you?" "Dunuo; I ain't done nuffin." " Then why should I kill you?" "Why should dey kill Missy Lucy?" f ' Who killed Miss Lucy?" "Dunno; somebody killed her." "Did you see them kill her?" " Yes, sah; dis yere chile seen dem kill her!" "Saw who?" "Lot o' men in masks; moonshiners, mebbe; yes, guess dey wer' moonshiners, and dey had no right to go kill poor Missy Lucv; she were an angel!" "Why did they kill her?" "Dunno; heerd 'em say she had tole someting, and dat she must die!" 34 MAOON MOORE, Macon Moore raised his dark lantern and flashed the bright light square in the mulatto's face. A startled look passed over the feHow's face, while his eyes gleamed with a most singular intelligence. There was too great a contrast between the mam's apparent simplicity and his real intelligence, as expressed in his eyes. As stated at the close of our previous chapter, the detective, when he first caught sight of the fellow, thought that ho was gazing upon the fiendish face of the girl's murderer, and despite the mulatto's seeming simplicity and well-told story, the first suspicion remained. Macon Moore had been born on a plantation; he had lived in the midst of the poor black men all his life, and being naturally an observant man, he was familiar with all their natural peculi arities. The actions of the man before him were too transparent to so keen an observer; they were overdone; in fact, assumed. " Who are you?" asked the detective, in a quick, decisive tone, at the same moment fixing his keen blue eyes sternly upon the mulatto. " Oh! I'se a poor man roun' heah." "How did you happen to be round here at the time the murder took place?" "I jes' came roun' ter get someting to eat from Missy Lucy." " Do you usually come around begging for something to eat at an hour well on towards midnight?" "No, sah." " How did you happen to do so to-night?" "Dunno." The detective had held his lantern in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other. He stuck the latter in his pocket, and, reaching forth, suddenly snatched at the head of the mulatto. A strange denouement followed. The man's stubby crop of wool came off and revealed the closely-shaven scalp of a white man. The man leaped back as his false hair was jerked from his head, and drawing a revolver, he fired at point-blank range. The detective, however, was too quick for him. Had the former been armed he could have dropped his man, but having pocketed his pistol in order to expose the fraud, he was for the moment at'the assassin's mercy. As the man raised his pistol, Macon Moore swung his lantern around, and knocked the muzzle of the pistol upward; the -mllet, however, crashed through the lantern, and the two men were left in darkness. A number of pistol-shots followed. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 35 The detective had drawn his own weapon as his lamp was shattered, and both men blazed away in the darkness. But a few shots were exchanged. The assassin was the first to cease firing. The detective had changed his position after each shot, and when no responsive shot came, was on his guard against any little game. A minute passed, but it was one of those minutes whose dura tion seemed lengthened to an hour's space. The detective slowly backed toward the door of the room from which he had issued at the moment he entered the hall and discovered the disguised man. So wonderful were the officer's calculative perceptions, that he was able to reach the door opening into the room without making one false step. Once in the room, he went down in his clothes and drew forth a second dark lantern. He had known lanterns to be smashed before, and was pro vided for such a contingency. It took but a second to light his new lamp, but he did not raise the slide until he was in the hall once more, when he sud denly flashed the sharp ray through the darkness. He was alone. There were no signs of the man whom he had so singularly unmasked. Against the wall, however, was a fresh smear of blood. The detective's light was directed toward the floor, and illumined a blood-red trail. Our hero knew that one of his shots must have been effective. He followed the trail to the rear porch, and so down the garden path to a wicket gate. "I've only winged him a bit!" muttered Macon Moore, as he returned to the house. Our hero was greatly mystified. He could not understand the purpose of the man in remaining to tell the story of the murder. It was this little mystery that caused our hero to return to the house, as a new suspicion had come to his mind. There was no question but that the pretended mulatto had lingered behind for the sole purpose of telling the story of the murder. The detective's first impression had been, upon discovering evi dences of the horrid deed, that moonshiners were the perpe trators; but since his adventure with the man whom he had found in the house, he had cut adrift from his first conclusion. There had been a deliberate design to make it appear that the deed had been done by the masked marauders, and it was a cer tainty that the real murderer had assumed the character of a 36 MACON MOOKE, , poor old mulatto in order to convey such an impression to who ever should be the first to discover the deed. Once again in the room which had been the scene of the tragedy, our hero commenced a critical examination of all the evidences. As his examination proceeded he made the most astounding discoveries, and the most weird probabilities were presented to his imagination. Ascending the stairs, the detective entered several rooms, until at length he came tooue which he selected as the sleeping-room of the fair girl who had been so foully murdered. Strange thoughts came to the man, and he was inwardly shaken by deep emotions, as his eye rested upon the couch where that fair girl had so oft reclined in all her beauty and inno cence. The brave man's thoughts were sad indeed. It seemed like a cruel fate that he should have passed to his age without meeting a soul in female form capable of stirring his deepest feelings until his gaze rested on Lucy Bridges. Her presence had come to him like a glorious revelation a grand realization of a longing that had lain buried way down in his heart; and now the revelation, the glorious realization, had vanished in the deepest shadow and gloom. It was not often that at such a moment our hero stood and brooded over past events, but the passing night had brought to him a new experience. He was not permitted to indulge his sad fancies. He was aroused in the most thrilling and startling manner. A strange, grating noise fell upon his ear, and at once he was upon his guard. A movement of his thumb, and his light was out. He stood in total darkness. CHAPTEE VH. A MOST EXTEAORDINAKY KIJSE. Any man less used to constant surprises would have been taken at a disadvantage, but Macon Moore was too well trained and experienced not to recognize instantly the nature of the noise that he had heard. As his light went out, the detective dropped to the floor, and crawled close under the window. A moment and he had seen the face of a man pressed against the window-pane. The face only remained a moment, when it was withdrawn, and the detective knew that the man who had been peering in the room had. dropped once more to the ground. THE SOLTHERX DETECTIVE. 37 "I reckon I've been caught like a mouse in a trap!" was the detective's whispered comment, as he raised the sash half an inch, and put his ear by the opening. He heard words confirmatory of his suspicion. The house was surrounded by armed men. Death grimly smiled upon our hero from the muzzles of over twenty riti.es. "Is every door and window guarded?". was the first sentence that came to our hero's ears. The response brought him no hope. "A mouse couldn't get out of that house without being seen." Macon Moore took in the situation. The gang whom he had outwitted in the "Valley of Death " had probably discovered how they had been duped. They had struck his trail, and had run him down to the parsonage. The house was surrounded by a score of armed men, relent less, desperate murderers, bent on satisfaction and revenge. Under such fearful circumstances, the Southern detective was as cool and level-headed as though seated in the office of the police station in Savannah. He had heard one of the men say that a mouse could not pass from that house without being discovered; and yet, despite the presence of twenty armed men, the detective felt confident of running the guard and escaping his present peril. One thing mystified him. He did not understand why the men had delayed their entrance into the parsonage. A word that fell from one of his enemies revealed the rea son. " Let's set fire to the place and burn the imps all up!" "Ah!" thought Moore, " they think there is a number of men in the house." The detective decided to take advantage of their delay. He knew that in the end they would discover the truth, and the jig would be up with him unless he improved his time. Half an hour passed, and Macon Moore knew that the critical moment had arrived. He heard heavy steps in the house below stairs, and shortly after heavy steps were heard ascending to the upper story. It appeared as though certain death awaited our hero as he stood in the room and made no effort to escape. It could not be possible that he had determined single-handed to battle with twenty desperate men armed to the teeth. Nay, nay, the steel-nerved man was playing a cunning game, although taking long chances in risking it. Steps were heard outside the door, and the detective also re- 449G89 38 MACON MOORE, cognized that the men carried a light with them, as lie saw its rays shining beneath the door. ' ' This is the room where we saw the light, " he heard one of the men remark, and then both voices dropped to a whisper, and he could not distinguish what was said. There came a knock on the door from the outside. The detective made no response, and the rap was repeated, and after a^moment there came the command: " Open the door!" The door was unlocked. Had the men tried it upon first com ing opposite they would have discovered the fact. The door was opened and a flood of light rushed into the room, and a most strange and thrilling tableau was presented. The man who had opened the door held a lamp in his hand, and as the door yielded he thrust the lamp into tae room. In the background stood two other men with cocked and loaded rifles. Their aim rested upon a most interesting subject. A girl in her " robe de nuit, " a sleeping-cap upon her head, with long curls straggling down her shoulders, was kneeling be side the bed. The men stood silent and aghast. They had expected to see armed men rush forth, and instead beheld a girl kneeling beside her bed. They wero desperate men, but not bereft of every human sen timent. Without the exchange of a word, the man who had opened the door caught the knob and drew it to, and not one of the other men protested. How different would have been the scene that would have fol lowed, had those men seen the smile of triumph that played over the face bordered by that dainty lady's nightcap. Macon Moore had tried stratagem; had the latter failed he would have resorted to a desperate defense, and would have died like a man " with his back to the field and his feet to the foe." Under that night-robe was a man armed to the teeth; but cun ning had succeeded where desperate courage might have failed. When the door was closed the detective remained in a kneel ing position. He knew that a command might come from below ordering the girl to be brought down-stairs. Ten minutes passed, and the detective rose from beside the bed. It was necessary for him to learn the intentions of the men below stairs. Noiselessly he opened the door and stepped out to the hall. He could see down to the lower hall, and there be held a number of men standing over the blood-trail. The command came; THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 39 " Go and bring the girl down-stairs; she must know some thing as to the fight that has taken place here." Indeed there were good evidences of a fight, as the bullets discharged by the two men had plowed the wall and surface in several directions. Macon Moore, leaning over the balustrade, heard the com mand: " Go bring the girl down-stairs!" One of the men started to ascend to the second story. It was the man who had carried the light, and who had opened the door when the girl had been discovered. In a few seconds the man returned down-stairs, and reported that the girl was not in the room. 'I thought you men saw a girl in the room above stairs!" exclaimed the man who appeared to be the leader of the gang. " So we did!" " Then where in thunder is she now?" came the question. CHAPTEE VIII. SOME ACCOUNT OF OUK HEBO. Macon Moore had been celebrated as a detective for a number of years. He was the orphan son of a Confederate colonel, who had been killed while commanding a Georgia regiment. Our hero was but eleven years old when his father died, and as the latter had perished while in arms against the general government, the lad, left a friendless orphan at such an early age, had been thrown upon the charity of the world. The government, which provided for the orphans of the Union dead, had made no provision for the bereft children of Con federate soldiers. The little Southerner was a sturdy little chap, and having no known relatives, he had fought the battle of life without asking assistance from a living soul. He had managed to secure a fair education, and being a born gentleman, it served as well as though the means had been pro vided by others. Our hero was but twenty when, as a volunteer, he undertook to run down and capture a noted desperado who had committed a number of murders. Upon another occasion he had accompanied the sheriff as a volunteer to arrest a number of forgers who had located in the mountain fastnesses. The adventure proved a most desperate one. The sheriff and 40 MACON MOORE, all his party were slain save one. Macon Moore made his way back to the city covered with wounds. The whole commonwealth rose in indignation, and a large reward was offered for the capture of any member of the gang. When our hero recovered from his wounds he set out to run down the forgers and assassins. In two years, after encountering all sorts of adventures, he either captured or killed every man who had been engaged in the massacre. His adventures during these two years had given him the reputation of being one of the most daring men in the Southern States, and led to his special employment as State detective. He had never been known to fail in an undertaking when sent to capture a criminal, and the criminal classes throughout the whole South and Southwest had come to dread the pursuit of Macon Moore with greater terror than the knowledge that a whole regiment of government or State cavalry Avas upon their trail. It was thus as above detailed that our hero had through a series of adventurous incidents drifted into the trade of a profes sional detective. At the time our story opens a reign of lawlessness had pre vailed for a long time in the mountain districts of the State, where in various places illicit whisky stills had been established. The general government had sent down numerous agents, who had been murdered in the most ruthless manner, and the law lessness had gone on until it had become a condition of guerilla warfare. The suppression of the illicit whisky business was a national duty, as the general government collected the tax upon tho manufacture, but the moonshiners, in their efforts to evade the duty, had committed crimes against citizens of the State. Innocent men had been shot down ruthlessly in cold blood, sim ply for harboring over night a traveler suspected of being a government agent. Judges and officers were set at naught, and it appeared as though "Murder had bared her arm." At length the governor had offered the services of the great detective to the general government, and through some strange leak the fact had been conveyed to the whisky men. The news was received with curses. The moonshiners were shielded under a sort of immunity from punishment as individuals, from the fact that their acts of law lessness were committed in prangs. They had fought tho soldiers and agents, and snapped their THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 41 fingers at future consequences; but when it came to having a detective" let loose among them, especially such a man as Macon Moore, it became a serious matter. They knew then that they ran the danger of being spotted as individuals, and it was the latter system that they most dreaded. Could the government trail them down as individuals, the men would practically become outlaws, and eventually would be certain to fall into the hands of the law. The true secret was that there were men engaged in the busi ness who were unknown, and were recognized in society as re putable men. A detective, if permitted to carry on his work, would unmask and expose these rascals; and that is why all their attention was given to the possibility of assassinating the bold man who had undertaken to run them down. They would have snapped their fingers at an ordinary detec tive, and would have disposed of him in short order. Our hero, however, was a man who could not bo so easily silenced. He could not be approached with bribes. He knew most of the men whom he was to track. He was also well acquainted with the country; and besides all this he was known as such a deep and cunning man, and one who moved with the noiseless motion of a canoe through the waters, leaving no trail behind. When Macon Moore came across the coffin, with the placard marked sacred to his memory, he was not surprised. . He knew then that there was some man in the State depart ment in sympathy with some of the moonshiners, if not even a partner in the' traffic; and he knew also that it was through this source that the knowledge of his assignment to this perilous duty had become known to the men he was to trail down. He wondered that they had taken such a method to frighten him off, as it ought to have been known that he would not scare, and the weird warning had only served to put him on his guard. As our readers know, he had become engaged in active work from the first moment of his appearance in the mountains. Asking our readers' pardon for the above explanatory digres sion, we will proceed with our narrative. As our readers will remember, the man who had gone above stairs in the parson's house had returned and reported the girl missing. Our readers will remember also that the leader had demanded: " Whore in thunder is she?" " She has vanished!" was the only answer. The leader himself ascended the stairs, light in hand, and made an examination of the room. Turning to the men who had followed him, he said: 42 MACON MOORE, " There is something strange about this." One of the men had turned down the coverlet over the bed, and, in a quick tone, exclaimed: "There is something strange about this, too, I should think." As the man spoke he held aloft a cocked revolver, while to the hammer was tied a little placard bearing words of most startling significance. CHAPTEE IX. A EETUBN SHOT. The leader tore off the placard and read: " Sacred to the memory of every man whose hand is red with innocent blood." The strange missive was written in lead-pencil, and signed M. M ." A dead silence followed the reading of the note tied to the cocked pistol. Each man felt a cold chill go to his heart. It was no idle threat, coming as it did from such a wonderful man as the great detective, Macon Moore. The truth came like a flash of revelation to every man, and the whispered word was passed from man to man that the seeming fair girl who had been seen kneeling at the bedside was in reality the famous de tective the man whose presence in the mountains had caused workmen to hover round their silent stills with pale and anxious faces. The men who had held their leveled rifles through the open door gnashed their teeth in impotent rage and fury. They cursed themselves that those rifles had not been made to belch forth death to that seemingly helpless girl. They had had the scourge of their fortunes at their mercy; had had him trapped like a mouse in a cage, and he had slipped through their fingers, and at the present moment was laughing because of the joke he had played upon them. The detective had come to the correct conclusion when he had surmised that the gang who had been fooled in the " Valley of Death" had discovered their mistake. Twice in one night had the scourge been, single-handed, in thc-ir very midst, and twice had he evaded them. Maeon "Moore had not parted from the rescued clergyman over half an hour when the men were upon his trail. They had gathered round the spot where the two men had separated, and had been shrewd enough to determine that it was THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 43 the clergyman who had ridden away on horseback and the de tective who had gone afoot. It was the man afoot whom they had followed, and they had traced him to the parsonage. As they chewed the apple of chagrin, they realized that they ought to have entered the house upon their first arrival. Cowardice had deterred them; they were still under the im pression that Moore must have confederates with him; that he had left them at the parsonage while absent at the ' ' Valley of Death." " Twice we have been fooled," said the leader of the gang of moonshiners, "but, as I live, never again shall that man slip alive through our fingers." "We can strike his trail and run him down yet," suggested one of the men. "Indeed, we may, and to make sure," said the leader, "shoot down any man you mav meet, no matter in what guise you may find him." This was a brutal order, and yet, from the moonshiners' stand point, a necessary one, as they were determined to guard against any new disguise that the detective might assume. In the meantime, our hero was himself following a trail. As stated, a critical examination of the murder evidences had caused him to adopt a certain theory. It was a startling one, and yet there were strong reasons for adopting ft. Macon Moore was a man who considered no circtimstance too trifling for consideration, and it Avas this trait in his character that had contributed to some of his most remarkable professional successes. Upon hearing the command to bring the girl down for ex amination, he had determined that it was time for the girl to leave. The disguise was hastily removed, but not discarded; the pla card was tied to the cocked weapon, and Macon Moore let him self out of the window down to the ground. Had the man who ascended to bring down the girl looked out of the window, he would have seen a man noiselessly stealing awav. T ho moonshiner, however, thought that the girl had probably hidden under the bed, or in a closet, and he commenced to look for her without paying any attention to the open window through which the detective had departed. Not finding the girl, he reported back to his leader as recorded, and the events followed as above described. In the meantime the detective had run a narrow risk of cap ture. 44 MACOX MOOKE, A hundred yards from the house he had met two men. The latter were masked, and seeing our hero stealing from the direction of the house, their suspicions were aroused. Macon Moore was right face to face with the two men when he first saw them, and before he knew it two cocked pistols were planted against either cheek. " Where are you going, stranger?" " I was sent to look for you," was the answer, in a cool, off hand tone. " Sent to look for us?" "Yes." " Why were you sent to look for us?" " Macon Moore was in that house there half an hour ago, and the captain wants to rally all hands for hunt." "Macon Moore in the parsonage!" " Yes, he was, not more than thirty minutes ago." The two pistols were withdrawn from our hero's cheeks. His absolute " cheek " and coolness had saved his life. A hesitating or equivocal answer at the moment would have cost him his life. The two men were thrown completely off their guard, and. started toward the parsonage. Jt was a trying moment for our detective. He had saved his life by his coolness, and now he must pre vent those two men from communicating with the gang. It was necessary to avoid a pursuit. He proposed to turn trailer himself, and it would be tough business, with a gang of desperate men running him down at the same moment like a pack of blood-hounds. CHAPTER X. ONE TO TEN. Men engaged in perilous duties acquire one characteristic, and that is a habit of acting on the instant when a decision is made. The detective waited until the two men had proceeded about ten feet, when he suddenly sprang forward, and with the butt of his pistol dealt each a terrific blow on the head. He knew just where to strike so as to produce insensibility. Without cry or groan the two men reeled backward and fell to the ground. The detective did not strike a second blow, but dashed quickly away, taking a direction contrary to the onei he had been follow ing at the time he met the two men. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 45 He left a broad, open trail, but when some yards away he struck another direction and left a closer trail, and, finally, he came back to where he had started from, and going forward on his original course, left no trail. Moore had just struck his last course when the gang of moon shiners issued from the house, acting under the command to kill any one they met who was not immediately recognized. It was lucky for the detective that this Herodic order had not been communicated to the two men whom he had met, as his career would have ended then and there. The moonshiners were sleuthing for the detective's trail, and were not slow in finding it. The party advanced a short distance when one of them tripped over the prostrate form of a man. The moonshiner uttered a cry and called for a torch. The whole gang a moment later were gathered around the bleeding forms of the two men whom our hero had dropped. Restoratives were applied and the wounded men returned to consciousness. " What befell you?" demanded the leader of the gang. The latter was a man named Yenni, and he was one of the heaviest distillers in the business. He was reported to be enor mously rich, and it was understood also that every dollar that he owned had been accumulated in the unlawful traffic. He was a man known to possess great political influence, and it was supposed that he had partners in high quarters. A discovery of his identity meant not only ruin to himself, but to a large, number of influential men who were his aiders and abettors. The moment the men were restored to consciousness Yenni questioned them. Their story filled him with amazement. " It appears," he said, " that this man bears a charmed life. He meets us here, there, and everywhere, and always comes out ahead!" " There is no time to lose," suggested one of the men. " No time to lose in what way?" ' ' Macon Moore is not far off; we can overhaul him yet before daylight. " " You think we can overhaul him before daylight?" "Why not?" " Gentlemen, listen to me. I will give a check for tveuty thousand dollars to the man who will bring me the h<;M of Macon Moore, and this offer is to stand until he is captinxxi and executed!" " Suppose there are a number of us who capture himf ' 46 MACON MOORE, " The money -will be paid and his captors and executors can ar range about the division of the fund among themselves." A terrible incentive had been offered to twenty men to commit a ghastly murder. There is hardly a man living who, under like circumstances, would not have given up the job had he been in the detective's place and have known of the price put upon his head. Had our hero been told that a hundred thousand dollars had been offered for his capture, and that a thousand men were on his trail, it would have made no difference. He was in the mountains to accomplish a certain work, and he was the man to perform his duty or die! While twenty thousand dollars were being offered for his " taking off," our hero was quietly following the trail that com menced at the parsonage in a line of blood. Daylight found him still upon the trail. The man had been badly wounded, and owing to the latter fact, had left a broad trail. The detective traced him ten miles from the scene of the com bat to an elegant residence down in the valley. Macon Moore prepared to mouse out the mystery. His first move was to adopt a suitable disguise, and it was a . slender-looking man in the garb of a clergyman who stopped at the nearest tavern to obtain his breakfast. Even in the rough country where our hero found himself, the people had a sort of rustic reverence for a minister. The pretended student of divinity ate a pretty solid breakfast for an intellectual man who was supposed to care but little for bodily comforts. After his meal our hero came out upon the porch, and man aged to get into conversation with a lonely-looking old man, who appeared to belong about the neighborhood. It was some time before the subject of inquiry drifted to the man who lived in the elegant mansion to which the detective had traced the wounded fugitive. " Who lives in the handsome house about two miles from here?" 'Do you mean the Spaniard's place?" ' I don't know whether he is a Spaniard or a Chinaman." ' You mean the house with the gilded dome?" 'Yes." ' A Mr. Arteaga lives there." 'A Spaniard, eh?" 'Yes, sir." 'A retired gpntleman?" ' He pretends to be." ' What do you mean wliori you say he pretends to be?" THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 47 " Well, it is rumored that lie is interested in the whisky trade, but he pretends to be a gentleman of large means living on his money." ; ' Is he a married man?" " He may have a wife in Spain or Cuba, but no white woman has ever been seen around his place." "Does he associate with his neighbors?" "Not much; he is a reserved, ugly man; no one likes him around here." The conversation was brought to a sudden close at this point. The old man happened to glance up the road, when he ex claimed : " By George! I wonder what deed of violence is about to be perpetrated now?" Our hero glanced up the road, and his blood ran cold as he recognized the cause of the old man's declaration. Ten mounted men were seen riding toward the tavern, and the old man whispered the one word, " Moonshiners!" CHAPTEE XI. rrr A "PEACEFUL" DISGUISE BUT BELLIGEKENT MOOD. Macon Moore had not heard Colonel Yenni's command to his gang of eight riders to shoot down any man that they should meet, so as to make sure of their man, or at the moment he would not have placed so much reliance upon his disguise. There was no question as to the purpose of the ten horsemen that were seen approaching. They were upon our hero's track, and they were armed to the teeth. The choice was left to him to risk his disguise, or steal away and trust to flight. Macon Moore was too brave a man to risk a combat when it could be avoided. A truly brave man is one who is cool-headed and oalculative in moments of peril; and it is no sign of cowardice to avoid a fight against fearful odds when some purpose is to be served. Our hero would not have thought of retreating froru twice ten men had duty required that he should remain to face them; but wh;>< 'iirod as a very suspicious circumstance if the detective had declined to leave his weapons outside the room. As a sort of apology the Spaniard said: " You nrnst remember that these are excited times, and I have a perfect right to be on my guard against any surprise. The detective drew a number of pistols from his pocket and laid them against the surbasp beside the door; he also disarmed himself of a couple of formidable-looking bowie-knives. THE -SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. r,:i "Now, sir!" he said, "please search me, and assure yourself that I have retained no weapons." The Spaniard did not hesitate to do as requested, and the de tective noted the fact that the man was an expert as far as possible concealment of weapons was concerned. His examination was thorough and complete. CHAPTEB XV. A STRANGE TABLEAU. " Is it all right?" asked the detective, when the examination of his clothing was completed. "It's all right; come in!" As Macoii Moore stepped over the threshold the Spaniard closed and locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. " I'm a mouse in a trap!" observed the detective, mentally, as he saw the movement, and a peculiar smile flitted over his face. " I lock the door in compliment to yourself," said the Spaniard. "You appear to wish to be assured of absolute privacy. " "It's all right, sir!" The Spaniard seated himself at the table on which stood the student's lamp, and motioned our hero to a seat opposite. The latter saw a look of confidence on the Spaniard's face, backed by a sinister expression of triumph. " He thinks he has me disarmed and at his mercy," thought the detective; but he gave no sign, and seated himself directly opposite Arteaga. The Spaniard drew open a drawer in the table, and took therefrom a pair of highly-polished pistols, and in perfectly even tones, remarked: "Merely a warranted precaution. I mean you no harm, but I have the right to be upon my guard; now what is your business?" "There has passed between us a great deal of unnecessary ceremony," said the detective. "There are times when a little ceremony, such as you have witnessed, is necessary; now please name your business. " " I have come to tell you that you are under suspicion." "?dt> not understand you." " Colonel Yenni has found it necessary to notify every one of the gang that danger is ahead." "I tell you I do not understand you." "I can offer no explanations. I have only come here to de liver a simple message." " "What danger menaces me?" " Macon Moore, the great detective, is especially on your track!" GO MAC OX MOOKK. A fearful expression came over the Spaniard's face. " Macon Moore on my track?" he repeated. "Yes." " Why should Macon Moore be upon my track?" " He has trailed YOU down as engaged in tlte business." " Tis false!" "I have nothing to do with that. I am only delivering a message." " Have you any further message to deliver?" "Yes." "Proceed." "Col. Yenni told me to tell you that you were suspected of having a hand in the outrages upon the parson's daughter." The Spaniard's face became perfectly livid; his eyes rolled, and his complexion assumed a ghastly hue. With a fearful oath he rose to his feet, and presenting one of the cocked pistols directly against the detective's heart, de manded : " Who are you?" Not a muscle of the steel-nerved detective's face quivered, as, in perfectly even tones, he answered: "Take things easy; sit down; I am only a messenger, and I have more news to communicate." The Spaniard sat down, and, in a husky voice, remarked: "Be careful, my man, what you say. I hold your life in my hands. Make the first movement, and I will send a ball through your brain!" "Well, you are a violent man. You made me disarm myself because you feared I might be an assassin in disguise, and pray what are you?" " I have no time for idle bantering." In his excitement the Spaniard had forgotten his broken Eng lish, and used as good language as a highly cultured American. In a cool, aggravating manner, the detective asked: "Be you a real Spaniard?" Once more Artoaga leaped to his feet and was about to place the muzzle of a pistol against the detective's heart, but the latter rose also, and, from some strange place of concealment, drew a cocked weapon, and said: " Don't raise your hand, mister. If you do I'll drop you!" The Spaniard's half-raised arm fell to his side as though stricken with a sudden paralysis. 'You are an awful man," said the detective. 'Fellow, vou deceived me!" 'How?" 'You are armed!" 'You searched me yourself." , THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 61 " Who are you?" " I told you two or three times J. was a mere messenger." "You think you have tracked me?" " No; 1 have only exercised the same precaution that you claimed for yourself, and just now I feel that the point was well taken." " You are still at my mercy." "Ami?" " You are." "How so?" "A stamp of my foot would bring a dozen armed men into the room." "A stamp of your foot under those circumstances would bring you something else." "What do you mean?" "A bullet through your heart." "Two can play at that game." "Yes, my friend, but I've got the bead on you just at this mo ment, and, for convenience' sake, we will not break this pleasant and striking little tableau in other words, we will not change our positions until my errand is complete." "What more have you to say?" "I do not know as I ought to give you any further warning; you have not received it in a friendly spirit." " You are an impostor!" " What makes you think so, Mr. Arteaga?" The detective pronounced the name Arteaga in a very pecu liar manner, and a spasm passed over the Spaniard's face. "You have not deceived me. I 'knew from the first you were a fraud. You will never leave the house alive!" " Ah! you are the man who was talking a moment ago about assassins." "jl knew I was talking to one." A strange tableau was presented at the moment in that dark ened room. Macon Moore, clad in his red shirt and slouch hat, really did look like an assassin, as he stood with his cocked pistol leveled at the head of the Spaniard, and the latter was not a less strik ing figure, with his pale face and gleaming eyes. CHAPTEK XVI. SUKROUNDED BY FOES. A second's silence followed the Spaniard's last remark. A noise had been heard without, and both men were listening to the sounds. V2 MACOX MOORE, A cold chill went to Macon Moore's heart. It is a mistake to suppose that men of courage never feel the cold chill of apprehension. There are times when just such men more fully and keenly realize their peril than others; and though they ma}' give no outward sign, they inwardly feel chilled by some cold shadow overhanging them. The sound without that at the moment was holding the atten tion of both men was the clatter of many horses' feet. The Spaniard had just remarked: "I knew I was talking to an assassin! 1 ' and it was just at this point that the startling in terruption had come. A little more thrilling event, however, occurred an instant later, and while the clatter of the horsemen without continued. Macon Moore still held the Spaniard at bay with his weapon, and was about to make a remark, when the words were frozen to his lips by hearing a succession of soul-piercing shrieks. The cries came from a woman. A sudden impulse thrilled Macon Moore. He knew that by the sacrifice of the man's life, whom he held at his mercy, he could save his own life. To spare the man was to invite his own death, and he had but a few seconds wherein to decide. The shrieks had not been renewed. There had come a few wild, despairing cries and all was still as still as though the lips that uttered those agonizing screams had been sealed in death. Even at that moment the true humanity of Macon Moore was displayed. The hero of a hundred deadly hand-to-hand scrimmages could not shoot down even so bad a villain as he believed the pretended Spaniard to be in cold blood. Quick as a flash our hero dealt his man a blow, and the latter reeled and fell to the floor; with equal quickness the detective forced a gag into his victim's mouth, and fastened handcuffs around his wrists; and again with a silk handkerchief he bound his two feet. The man lay helpless. The blow he had received had knocked him into temporary insensibility, and he remained unconscious during the gagging and binding process. Macon Moore took the key from the man's pocket, and loap- ing across the room opened the door and l*t himself out. Im mediately closing and locking the door behind him, he sprang up the stairs just as a number of hard knocks came rattling against the great entrance-floor. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was fast sinking in the west. At the head of the stairs the detective stopped and listened. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 63 There was no sound of life around the house, save the knocks upon the door, that had become furious and violent. "Would it were night!" muttered the detective, as he passed along the broad hall to a window overlooking the lawn. A startling sight met his gaze. He counted thirty-two horses, showing a force of men too heavy for him to combat under any circumstances. For once the desperate man felt that he was in a quandary. The rapping at the door was continuous, and the detective knew that it would speedily be burst in and his presence dis covered. There was no chance for him to leave the house unseen, as it was completely surrounded. Macon Moore had been in a tight place a hundred times, when his life had hung on a thread; but his present predicament ap peared absolutely hopeless. He resolved on a most wonderful expedient. But one chance appeared open to him, and it was by just such expedients that he had escaped many times in the past. The knocking continued, and he descended the stairs to the lower hall. % His game was balked. Right at the foot of the stairs he saw the Indian stealing towards the door. Like an unleashed tiger the resolute man sprang upon the Indian and seized him by the throat. The Indian struggled; but he Avas in a powerful grip, and the hold upon his throat weakened him. The fingers of the detective tightened, and the man became black in the face, and finally sank to the floor as helpless and limp as a drowned man. Quick as thought the detective raised the Indian in his arms and ran tip-stairs with him, where, with equal quickness, he bound him as he had the Spaniard. It may appear strange that one man could thus overcome and secure two; but it must be remembered that our hero was no ordinary individual, but an extraordinary man who had been trained 'through many perils so as to act in just such an emer gency. foe knocking at the door had momentarily ceased. All that the detective feared was that it would be broken in before he could carry out his scheme. He started to descend the stairs, when the rapping was re newed. Macon Moore stepped to the door and drew the bolts, at the same time calling out: " For Heaven's sake be patient!" it MACON MOORE, The next moment the door was opened, and our audacious hero faced Colonel Yenni. " For Heaven's sake, colonel, have you a doctor with you!" "A doctor!" "Yes; quick! Arteaga is dying!" " Arteaga dying!'' repeated the colonel. The detective had spoken in such an assured and rapid man ner that the leader of the night-riders had not had time to in dulge a suspicion, even had there been anything to excite such a sentiment. Stepping out to the verge of the piazza, Colonel Yenni called out: "Is Dr. Landers with us to-day?" The answer came: "No." "Lend me your horse, colonel, we must have a doctor imme diately!" "Yes, take my horse; where will I find Arteaga, and when was he taken?" "The man will die if I stop to answer questions; you will find him in his bed-room. Pedro is with him." The detective had learned the Indian's name, and as he pro nounced it he darted down the stoop, and mounting the colonel's horse, dashed away. There was one man among those riders who uttered the excla mation: " Good heavens!" but he said no more. The colonel's horse was a good one, and put to his mettle at the first bound, he sped away like the wind. The man who had made the exclamation "Good heavens!" ad vanced to where the colonel was standing on the stoop, and asked : 'Who was that man?" 'A friend of Arteaga's." 'I hope you may find you are not mistaken." 'What do you mean?" asked Yenni, in an excited tone. 'I think that man was the parson in another rig!" CHAPTER XVH. THE DETECTIVE RECOGNIZED. Colonel Yenni seized hold of the man who had made the start ling statement, and exclaimed: What is that you say?" mis eye UHL IS Lllitt JTUU OWJ : " I may be mistaken, but, by Heaven! I caught just one glance of that man's eye as he leaped upon that horse, and if it wasn't THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 65 Macon Moore I'll never swear to any man's identity again as long as I live!" " Mount! mount! all hands mount and away after that scoun drel in the slouch hat and red shirt!" called the colonel, follow ing his command with a volley of oaths, terrible to hear, while in continuance, he exclaimed: " Shoot him down like a dog, and ask no questions!" The men were in their saddles in no time, but the daring rider, mounted on the colonel's horse, the swiftest of the lot, had fully three minutes' start. He was over a mile away, and out of sight by the time the pur suers had struck the road. The men knew from the start that it was a vain chase. In the first place, it was Macon Moore whom they were pur suing a more daring rider than the great English highwayman, Claude Duval. Again, the pursued was mounted on the best horse in that section of the country. Pursuit, with a chance of capture, was hopeless. In the meantime, the detective sped along, laughing one mo ment and filled with a desire to curse the next. His laugh was one of delight and triumph at his success in evading his foes. His chagrin came from a knowledge that he was fleeing from the house where those agonized screams had been uttered by a female voice. In the distance our hero saw a rider, and a still more wonder ful scheme was suggested to him than the one he had just car ried out. He was mounted upon a good horse, and he put the animal to his best speed, at the same time turning his head to discover if ho could see anything of his pursuers, for from the top of the hill he had seen the horsemen on his track, and knew that he was being pursued. The pursuers were not in sight. The road was a winding one, and he had nan along on an extended turn. A few moments brought him within a few yards of the horse man he espied from a distance. Fortune favored him. He recognized the man as one of the ten he had encountered at^the tavern. ^*Tt's dog eat dog!" muttered the detective, as he reined up beside the other horseman. 'Well met!" he exclaimed. '"What is up?" asked the man. 'Colonel Yenni has been wounded!" 'Wounded?" 'Yes; and you must take his horse and ride for your life." 66 MACON MOOKE, "Why ride for my life?" "Bring a doctor to Arteaga's!" "Why do you not ride'?" "1 am to go for a lawyer. Come! come! no time is to be lost. I will take your horse." Tiif iiKin dismounted, when the wonderful detective said: "We must change hats and coats; night is coming on and the roads will be guarded on your return. I would not have you run any risk." The man consented to a change. He knew that if the roads were to be guarded it was safer to be dressed in a rig that would not be recognized at a distance or in the darkness. The moment the men had changed clothes and horses the de tective said: " Now ride for your life," and he gave the colonel's horse a sharp prod. The excited animal sped away, while our hero drew the rider's horse to the side of the road and led him into the thicket. Tlic time occupied by the two men in changing horses was not more than a minute, and the detective had just withdrawn with the duped man's horse into the thicket when the pursuers came in sight around a point in the road. As they arrived opposite the spot where the detective was con cealed, one of them cried out: " There's our man! W T e are gaining on him!" Macon Moore laughed. He had come many a sharp trick in his time, but he gloried in having accomplished two of the most wonderful feats of all his experience. He had walked out of Arteaga's house in front of the whole gang of riders, and lie had sent the whole squad of pursuers in pursuit of one of their own men. The moment the, men were well on the road our hero mounted his borrowed steed and leisurely trotted back towards Arteaga's mansion. When within an eighth of a mile of the place he led his ani mal into the thicket and tethered him, and pursued his w:ty on foot towards the scene of his recent most thrilling adventures. In the meantime Colonel Yenni had made some startling dis coveries. From the beginning he had no confidence in the idea that the man in the red shirt was Macon Moore. He believed that his man had merely conceived such a notion; still, he thought it just as well to order a pursuit, as, having re covered from the suddenness of the man's announcement, lie thought the fellow's dopartn; ioug. Colonel Yenni was an intimate friend of the Spaniard's. They THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. (37 were partners in business, and the former had no suspicion of the real character of the latter. In the upper hall the colonel saw the form of a man stretched upon the lloor. Tne mail's position for the moment appeared to confirm the stut. -meat of the man iii the red shirt. Advancing to ttie man, who was lying upon his face, the colonel turned him over and recognized the Indian Pedro, and at the same instant beheld that the man was handcuffed and gagged. it was but the work of a second to remove the gag and hand- c nil's and unbiiid the feet. " Who placed you in this condition ?" came the excited query. The man for a moment was unable to reply, his lips having become temporarily paralyzed by the gag. When he recovered his speech he said: " Man in the red shirt." "Heavens!" moaned Yenni, "has that wonderful individual escaped me once more?" It still seemed too extraordinary for belief. As the colonel thought over the fact that the man had not only escaped, but had gone off on his own favorite horse, deep and bitter curses rose to his lips. " Where is Arteaga?" he asked, at length. " Dead, I reckon." "Dead?" "Yes." "Then the man did tell the truth. Arteaga was sick?" " No, not sick, but man in red shirt killed him." " Where is the body?" " In the library." The colonel descended the stairs and tried the library door. It was locked, and he rapped once or twice, but there came no response. "Force the door!" said the Indian, and when the door had been forced a strange sight was witnessed. CHAPTER XVIII. COLONEL YE?TN'l's DISCOVERY. Arteaga lay upon the floor, bound and gagged in the same manner as the Indian had been. The Spaniard was released, and Colonel Yenni put the same question to him that had been addressed to Pedro: " How camo you in this condition?" I is MACON MOORE, When Arteaga was capable of speaking, he answered: " The man iii the red shirt." " A thousand curses follow the man in the red shirt!" was the denunciation that full from Colonel Yenui's lips. Mr. Avteaga related all that had occurred, when the colonel asked : " Have you any idea who the man in the red shirt really was?" "I have not." "You have been the victim of Macon Moore." " Macon Moore!" almost screamed the Spaniard. "Yes; Macon Moore, the great Southern detective!" "Then 1 am undone!" moaned the Spaniard, as a recollection flashed over his mind as to the strange revelations that the man in the red shirt had made. " That was Macon Mooro himself?" " It was." "You are sure?" "I am sxire." "I must leave this part of the country, then, at once." "Why must you leave, any more than the rest of us." " He has me ' piped ' down to a fine point." " He has not got you ' piped ' down any finer than he has me. Did he not use my name to gain your confidence?" It was not on the matter of the illicit business that the Span iard felt that he had been "piped" down; the detective had spoken of certain facts concerning him that were not known even to Colonel Yenni. The men remained talking over their peril until night fell. Little did they dream that at that very moment the wonderful man, the subject of their conversation, was stretched along the floor near the door of the library, listening to every word that was spoken. While thus listening, the detective heard the conspirators dis cussing, in the most cold-blooded manner, various schemes for his assassination. The Spaniard had at first objected to taking any hand in tho affair, not through any compunction he might have felt, but because he had come to look upon the detective with the utmost terror. Colonel Yenni, however, had convinced him that any attempt to escape consequences by flight was chimerical. " That man," said tho colonel, " if he lias any points to ' work up' against you, will follow yon to the ends of the earth; like the dog-fiend in human shape that he is, he will trail you to the very brink of the grave. While he is above ground you can never escape him; your only safety lies in his death." THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 69 "I will give ten thousand dollars in gold for one second's glance upon his dead face!" exclaimed Arteaga. "Never fear, you will have that pleasure within eight-and- forty hours; and Macon Moore once dead we will have the field to ourselves. No other man will dare attempt where he has failed. " The consultation ended with the understanding that Arteaga was to attend the meeting of the night riders in the Valley of Death. The meeting had been called for midnight, at the mo ment that the moon shot below the western horizon and left the earth under the gloom of a moonless night. As Macon Moore stealthily stole away from his position be side the door, he muttered: " I will be at the Valley of Death to-night!" As it appeared that Arteaga had never attended a meeting of the night-riders, Colonel Yenni had told him all the ritual at tending the secret meetings, including the pass-words and signals used upon various occasions. Thus, in the most fortunate manner, the daring detective had picked up all the secrets of the banded gang, whose sole pur pose at the time was to accomplish his assassination. Arteaga furnished a cold lunch and wine to his guest, and was informed that the chances were that at the very moment Moore was dead. "My men," he said, "have orders to ride him to death, and I trust that upon their return you will have the satisfaction of gazing upon his dead face without the expenditure of one cent." It was after the above declaration that Macon Moore had stolen away. The detective had returned to the house with a set purpose. It was his idea that the beautiful Lucy Bridges was a prisoner beneath that roof. Circumstances had prevented him from making a search, but the time had come for him to cast about and learn what the mystery of that gloomy mansion might be. The detective, lantern in hand, passed from room to room. He had a method of his own for forcing locked doors, and noise lessly gained entrances where others would have failed. He was baffled for the time being, and further search was necessarily postponed owing to the return of the riders. It would not do for the bold man to be caught in that house; and he knew that when the men told the story as to how they had been fooled a search might bo instituted. Our hero had also another duty to perform, and he made his way from the house in the darkness, and proceeding to where his horsfc was tethered, galloped away. 70 MACON MOOKK. Macon Moore rode seven miles, and finally reined up his steed in front of an old-fashioned house. It was still early in the evening. The detective stepped upon the broad piazza running along the front of the house, and walked along toward a window, through which flashed a bright light. Peering through the glass, he saw an old man seated at a table, with his head bowed in his hands. The detective tapped gently upon the window-pane, when the old man leaped to his feet, and advancing to the window, glanced out. The detective motioned for the man to come forth, but the latter showed no signs of complying with the sign request. The detective uttered a low whistle, when the old man at once raised the window and came forth. " Moore, is it you?" " Hush!" came the warning. Mr. Bridges stood silent, when the detective motioned him to follow. Our hero led the way down the piazza and across the lawn to the shadow of a clump of trees. ' Now speak low," said Moore. ' What news do you bring?" 'Bad." ' Mv daughter is dead?" No." ' What has befallen her?" ' She is a prisoner." ' In whose hands?" ' I cannot tell you now." 'I will go and appeal to the authorities!" exclaimed the old man, trembling with excitement. "You might as well appeal to the naked branches of yonder tree. Nay, good man, you must trust to me, and all shall yet come out right." CHAPTER XIX. PREPARING FOB A THIRD STARTLING FEAT. The detective, in a few words, explained all that had occurred since he had parted from the old clergyman, only withholding the name of the man who was supposed to have instigated the rapture of the girl. He merely allowed the old man to suppose that Lucy was missing, and said nothing concerning the blood- trails that he had found. The detective al c -o demonstrated to the old man how useless would be any appeal to law. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 71 " These men," said lie, "defy the law, and its officers are para- lized in the presence of such a well-organized gang of despera does." Mr. Bridges had been a resident of the State long enough to realize that the declarations of the detective were true. Had the occurrence happened in a more thickly-settled portion of the commonwealth it would have been different, but in the region where the outrage occurred, as matters were, it was necessary to meet force with force, cunning with cunning, and might with might. The detective asked the old clergyman a strange question: " Did vou ever know an octoroon named Silas?" "I did"." "When, and where?" rt He was once the property of one of my parishioners." " When did you last see him?" " I have not seen him for ten years." "Did you ever know a Spaniard named Arteaga?" "I have heard of him; he lives about seven miles from here." "You know nothing about him?" "Yes; I know something about him." " What do you know?" "He once met my daughter in the city of Macon." "How long ago?" "About three years." " Did he ever pay her any particular attention?" "He did; he sought her hand in marriage." "And was refused?" "With scorn." " Has your daughter ever seen him since?" " Not to speak to him." "Where was his home at the time he was paying attentions to . your daughter?" " He had just bought the estate where he now resides. But, tell me, do you suspect that the Spaniard has had anything to do with the abduction of my child?" " 1 only hope that it will turn out that such is the fact." -''You hope such will turn out to be the fact?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because she will be safe until such time as I can rescue her; but if she has been made the victim of the moonshiners, her fate looks dark." The old clergyman betrayed great distress; his lamentations were piteous to hear; but the detective's assurances somewhat pacified him, 72 MACON MOOEE, Our hero had obtained all the information he required, and felt that he knew pretty well all the bearings. ' Can you bear a night's fatigue?" he asked. 'I am a strong old man." ' You have my horse?" 'Yes." ' Saddle and mount him, and join me at the turn in the road beyond the tavern." Macon Moore, like all executive men, never wasted words. Twenty minutes subsequent to the scene above described, the clergyman joined the detective at the designated place, when the latter named his purpose. Our hero had determined to visit the Valley of Death, while in the meantime he desired a watch to be kept over the residence of the Spaniard, Arteaga. Long before the two men reached the Spaniard's house, old Mr. Bridges had received full instructions. During the absence of Macon Moore, while on his journey to consult with Lucy's father, some stirring incidents occurred at the mansion of Arteaga. The riders had returned from their chase after the detective. They were met at the porch by Colonel Yenni. The latter asked: "Did your overtake your man?" The question was addressed to a man named Selph Tracy. The latter was a notorious character; a fellow who was an out law in several States, and had only been harbored by the moon shiners because of his desperate courage and recklessness. "You sent us in chase of the devil!" replied Tracy. " What do you mean?" Selph Tracy related how they had pursued their man, and how upon closing in on him had blazed away at him, when the pursued halted and waved a white handkerchief as a signal of surrender. "Then you captured him?" " "We captured the man on horseback." " I do not understand you!" cried Yenni, impatiently. " "NVo had been pursuing one of our own men, and it is only a mercy that we did not lay him out when we blazed away at him!" Aad Tracy proceeded to relate what an extraordinary " sell " the detective had played upon his pursuers. Colonel Yenni was speechless with amazement. In fact, he was too dumbfounded to swear, and he was known as one of the profanest men in the whole State. At length ho managed to ejaculate: "I believe that man is in league with the devil!" " Then we had better give up the fight against him!" THE SOUTHEEN DETECTIVE. 73 " Never! We'll down liim yet!" cried the colonel. The riders Avere all furnished refreshments by Arteaga, when a start was made for the Valley of Death. When the men were assembling, a pair of keen eyes were studying each man. Macon Moore was planning for a third extraordinary feat; he had made up his mind to be present at the midnight meeting, and was taking his bearings accordingly. The men were told off in true military fashion, as it had been decided that to avoid suspicion and the possible surveillance of the man they dreaded, that the journey to the rendezvous should be made singly. The men were to take different routes. Little did they dream at the moment that by this very plan they were favoring the deep-laid plan of their scourge. The men rode off singly and in pairs. Colonel Yenni and Arteaga rode together. At length all had departed, save one man. The latter lingered for fully half an hour after his predecessor had departed, but at length mounted and rode away. He rode leisurely along, and thereby favored a man who was running cross-road afoot. Half a mile from Arteaga's residence was a small stretch of woods, and away to that a hill rose on the side of the road; op posite to the line of trees the path right there was peculiarly dark and lonesome. The night-rider reached the part of the road under the shadow of the trees. He was walking his horse and appeared lost in deep thought. Suddenly a dark figure emerged from the wood in his rear, and stole stealthily along after him. The man's feet were moccasined, and he moved with the noise less tread of a cat. The dodger managed to steal up right beside the rider, who, owing to the darkness, failed to discover the presence of an enemy. Suddenly a figure leaped up beside the rider, and a strong pair.<*f arms were thrust about the latter's neck, and an instant later both men were upon the ground. CHAPTEE XX. ON THE EOAD TO THE VALLEY OF DEATH. The stealthy prowler had leaped behind the rider with the lightness of a cat, and with the strength of a tiger had dragged him down to the road. 7-A MACON MOORE, The wliole movement had been executed in a few seconds' time. The man who had been dragged down was speechless with as tonishment, and before he had recovered sufficiently to make an outcry a cocked revolver was pressed against his forehead, and his assailant said: " Do not speak or I shoot!" The man did not speak, death was too close! "What is your name? answer low!" came the demand and warning. " Who are you, and what means this outrage?" "I am your murderer if you do not answer me!" "I answer no man who holds a cocked pistol to my head in order to obtain an answer that should be gained by civil in quiry. " The man had recovered from his first surpi'ise. He was a full- blooded Southerner and a brave man, and who would actually have died before he would have had an answer forced from him. None understood the characters of the men with whom he was thrown against better than Macon Moore. The keen detective saw at once that he must adopt strategy if. he hoped to gain an answer. "I know you, Tom Secor, you are a traitor to the riders! I've been watching you closely!" " You are wrong if you take me for the man you name." The detective made one of the signs of the riders, and the sig nal was answered. At once Moore withdrew the cocked pistol from the man's fore head, and said: "By George! I've made a blunder!" " Who are you?" The detective had heard the name of but one of the riders, and at random he gave the man's name. " Who are you acting for?" asked the man, who had been per mitted to riso from the ground. " Colonel Yenni," came the answer. "Who is the man Secor?" " A new recruit to the riders. I've had my suspicions of him, and had made up my mind to prevent his joining at the meet in tin- Vulley of Death' to-night!" I never heard the man's name." "Yon resemble him in appearance, although I've seen the fel low but once." " Well, to guard against any further mistakes, you might as well know that my name is Tracy, Self Tracy." Qnick as a flash the detective threw out hand and foot, and his victim was once more borne to the ground. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 75 "You are ray man, friend Tracy! I was not on the lay for Secor but Tracy!" The man Tracy attempted to struggle, and our hero found himself pitted against one who was almost his equal. Macon Moore could have killed his man, but as our readers know, not even to carry out the most important scheme would he take life in cold blood. Th'^ struggle continued for several minutes. Tracy managed to draw his bowie-knife, and came within a hair's breadth of ending the detective's career. At length, however, our hero overcame his man, and managed to disarm him. When at his assailant's mercy, Tracy asked: " Why this attack upon me?" "Oh! I was testing your fidelity!" but while making the answer Moore was carrying out a most singular proceeding by stripping his captive of his clothes. Again Tracy asked: " Are you a lunatic?" "You will find out I am not a lunatic, you traitor!" " You call me a traitor?" "Yes, I do." " 'Tis a false accusation!" " You are a true man, eh?" "I am." " Then why are you traveling under a false number?" The members of the gang were all numbered; each man was addressed by his number instead of his name; thus the com mands would be, Number Ten will do so and so; Number Eight has the floor; and One will bear a report from Number Thirteen. There were many men belonging to the riders who owned property, and others who did business in some of the adjoining towns, and there were professional men who were members also. Macon Moore had accused the man of traveling under a false number, and he had a purpose in making the accusation. Tracy indignantly denied traveling under a, false number. Our hero had noticed a badge on the lapel of the man's coat, and said: "J^Jcnow you are traveling under a false number, and you could only do so for some sinister purpose. " "You are riding to the Valley of Death?" " I am." " Take me with you, and if I am not Number Tucenty-Two I am willing to suffer all the consequences." "Yon cannot come that over me!" " What you are doin? will cost you your life!" The detective had robbed the man of all his outer clothing. " I have balked your game for to-night!" remarked the detec- 76 MACOX MOORE,- tive, as he removed bis own clothing and put on what he had taken from his captive. Tracy exclaimed: " You are up to some game yourself!" "Ami?" "Yes; and I begin to suspect who you are." "All right; you can report me to Yenni !" was the cool reply. Having assumed the man's garments, he put his own clothes on his victim. The latter writhed in agony. The truth had come to him. He remembered the trick Macon Moore had played upon one of the riders that very afternoon, and he began to realize that he had himself fallen into the hands of the great detective. Having robed his victim, our hero proceeded to bind and gag him in the most secure manner, when he raised him in his arms and carried him far back in the woods. "I will leave yon here while I go and summon the gang," said Moore, in an aggravating tone, and a moment after he added: "If I find you are a square man I will release you before morning." Had not the man been gagged he would have called down curses on the head of his captor. The latter mounted the horse of Number Twenty-two, and rode away towards the great midnight rendezvous. In a narrative everything runs along smoothly, and, as we are supposed to relate incidents that have occurred in the past, readers hardly realise the actual perils certain characters pass through. It was about as perilous an undertaking as any man ever risked, when Macon Moore essayed to enter the camp of the night-riders in the Valley of Death. The detective was riding along, and was within two miles of the rendezvous, when suddenly four men emerged from a side road and four carbines were presented at his head. Moore was not alarmed, nor did he betray the slightest trepi dation. " Who are you, and where are you going?" came the chal lenge. " I am on my way to the Valley of Death." "Traitor! we have you cornered at last," came the startling response. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 77 CHAPTER XXI. MACON MOOBB WINS BY COOLNESS. The moment had arrived for the detective to show his nerve. When challenged with the declaration, "Hold, traitor, we have you cornered at last!" he replied, coolly: " If you chaps don't lower your guns, I'll make something of you more quiet than traitors." "Give the countersign, and down go the guns." "Well, if Colonel Yeuui can't place livelier chaps on guard than four lunks like you, he had better come and stand on the road himself." "Will you give the pass-word?" "No, I won't!" The men gazed into each other's faces. They did not know what to do under the circumstances. They were not regular soldiers, but marauders, and did not understand a man's refus ing the countersign point-blank. The detective leaned over the side of his horse, and, laughing in a merry manner, asked: "What are you going to do about it?" One of the men answered, frankly: " I'll be dog-hanged if I know!" " Shall I tell you?" "Well, yes." "Just ride along with me to the rendezvous, and don't make fools of yourselves." The four men were young chaps, and very inexperienced in their business. The detective had noted this fact on the instant when chal lenged, and at once determined to take advantage of the situa tion in order to make his little adventure in the Valley of Death less perilous. The five men rode along toward the rendezvous, when one of the four who had challenged our hero, asked: "Who are you, anyway?" " Number Twenty-two?" "And your name?" "Selph Tracy." "By thunder! Tracy, you had a narrow squeak for your life awhile back. " "How's that?" "I had a dead bead on. you, and was most inclined to pull." "You're green hands, I reckon." "What makes you say that?" 78 MACOX MOOKE, " You challenged ine like a lot of lunks." "What should we have done?" "Closed in on me; taken my gun away; pulled my teeth; left me no chance to bite back, and then challenged me." "That's so," said one of the men, who wanted to convey the idea that he was smarter than his companions. "If I had been Macon Moore," said the detective, without a quaver in his voice, "I would have had you all dumped from your saddles in about three seconds." The men could not exactly see how the feat named could have been accomplished, but appeared to believe that it was true, nevertheless. Experienced men have learned that assurance and absolute positiveness will impress men of little experience so that they will believe almost anything. The detective's tactics at the trying and perilous moment had been based upon this idea, and he succeeded in the most won derful manner. A moment later he carried his audacity a step further, by say ing, in the most matter-of-fact manner: "Don't you fellows mention the manner in which we met, and ril never give you away; because I don't think it does any good to turn the laugh on young men before they have had a chance to pick up the points." "We won't say anything about it, you bet!" was the response. Macon Moore chuckled to himself at the manner he had pulled the wool over the eyes of those tyro night riders. The men soon arrived at the entrance to the narrow gulch that led to the Valley of Death. They were halted, and there came a demand for the countersign. The detective had cunningly fallen back to the rear. He did not have the countersign for the night, although he had the general recognition signal words. The man in advance gave the countersign, as did the others as they followed, including the daring detective, who had taken it when delivered by the first man. The real peril was at hand. Colonel Yenui was disposed to closely scrutinize every man. The detective had fooled him so often that he was prepared to be suspicious of his own father. The men soon emerged from the rock-lined passage into the valley. The detective saw a line of horses tethered after the manner of cavalrymen, and with the fcvur "lunks" he rode over, dis mounted, and tethered his own horse. The men were scattered around- in groups, presenting weird figures under the glare of the torches. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 79 All hands were masked. The latter fact was a fortunate circumstance for the man who had faced death by entering in their midst. It was not midnight, and our hero mingled with a group of men, and heard his own exploits discussed in the usual inan- nei\ Those men, who had never encountered him, boasted as to how they would dispose of him in case they should ever run across him; and the detective smiled behind his mask at the various horrible disposals that were to be made of him. At length the hour of midnight drew near, and the men gathered before a natural sort of rostrum, upon which stood Colonel Yenni, Arteaga, and a number of other men who were leaders. The first event in order was the roll-call. The latter custom was performed -in a peculiar manner. The man who acted as secretary called out the men's numbers at random, and the men answering to their numbers, responded by repeating their names, with the usual "Here!" The numbers went to a hundred, and, singularly enough, Number Twenty-two was the last number called, and our hero responded, in a firm voice: "Selph Tracy, here!" Colonel Yenni called out, upon hearing the last response: "I want to have a few words with Number Twenty-two when the business of the meeting is over." Number Twenty -two responded, "All right!" but Macon Moore resolved that the little private conference should not take place. I Our hero came to the conclusion that Selph Tracy had been absent on some private business, and as the detective was not acquainted with the nature of the business, he felt that he would be unable to furnish any information. Colonel Yenni opened the meeting by making some startling statements. In the first place he stated the enormous amount of business that had been done in the illicit traffic, and the number of men employed. He also stated the number of government agents that liaA been put out of the wai/, showing that the shadow of the gallows overhung every man who had been engaged in the trade. The colonel concluded his speech by showing the personal interest every man present had in the death of Macon Moore. The whole purport of the harangue was directed towards the point named. SO MACON MOORE, CHAPTEE XXII. THE DETECTIVE IN THE VALLEY OF DEATH. Every time the name of the great detective was mentioned, it was received with curses and execrations. "Our 'stills,'" said the colonel, "have been lying idle for nearly two weeks; and why? {Simply because that man is above ground in our midst." The men knew that the government had decided upon firm and aggressive measures for the extirpation of the moonshiners; they knew, furthermore, that they could combat all measures save one, and that was the establishing of the personal identity of the men engaged in the unlawful trade. It was to the leaders that this last peril more particularly pre sented itself, but they cunningly made it appear that the same peril menaced every man who had ever worked in a distillery, or who had ever worn a mask for the riding down of a government agent. During the course of the meeting our hero learned a startling fact. Admissions were made showing that a number of the govern ment agents supposed to be dead were still alive, held as prison ers in some secret place. The way in which the latter fact came out was a proposition to put these men to death in cold blood on the old piratical theory that " dead men tell no tales." It was actually put to vote as to what disposition should bo made of the prisoners; and, by an overwhelming majority, it was decided that they should be slaughtered in cold blood lit erally murdered! The detective's heart stood still with horror and amazement. To him it was the most atrocious proposition he had ever heard of in all his life. Not in the history of the world had he read of an act more cruel and merciless; and at that moment he decided that alone and unaided, were his life spared, he would save the lives of the doomed men. It was decided that the murderers should be drawn by lot. All the numbers representing the riders wr-ro placed in a hat, and Macon Moore from the bottom of his heart prayed that Num ber Twenty-tiro might be drawn from that hat as one of the ten who were to do the merciless deed of blood. Nine numbers were called, and only one more was to be drawn from the hat. THE SOUTHEKN DETECTIVE. 81 The detective listened with distended ears and palpitating heart. Could any of those men standing near him have seen the face hidden by his mask, they would have known for a surety that an enemy was in their midst. The last number was drawn, and it was not Number Twenty-two; our hero was not among the fated ten who were to do the deed of blood. When the matter concerning the prisoners was decided, the real object of the meeting was disclosed. Colonel Yenni called for volunteers fifty men who would pledge themselves to neither eat nor sleep until the famous de tective went down. It is necessary for our readers to know that many of the men gathered there had important business interests. The night riders were not a common gang of marauders, but were men belonging to the secret brotherhood, holding them selves in readiness to be called upon at any moment. Sometimes the riders were not called together for months, and only when some peril threatened the interests of some of their number. They pretended to be banded together merely for mutual pro tection, while itnder their leaders they were led to make war upon the law officers who were seeking to break up the illicit traffic. The whisky business had many ramifications, and numerous men were only indirectly connected with the trade, and yet all these had been drawn into the association for mutual defense of the illicit trade. There was not a ready response to the call for volunteers. There were men among them who would have willingly offered their services for a day or two, but when it came to making a business of hunting down a man like the great Southern detec tive, it was another matter. At length one man volunteered, and another, and another, until ten men had signified their willingness to join in the great man hunt. At the .last moment Arteaga came forward and offered a reward of twenty thousand dollars for the capture or assassination of Macon Moore. The result was that forty men at length volunteered to under take the job. Number T'renty-two was not among the number. The detective had other business on hand. He was studying the identity and personality of the ten men who were to murder the prisoners. Little did those men dream that at the verv moment the famous 82 MAGON MOORE, detective was in their midst, and like a " cbiel amang them takin' notes." They were destined to learn the truth, however, very shortly after the adjournment of the meeting. The ten men who were to slaughter the prisoners had been called up, and were holding a little quiet consultation among themselves. M;u:on Moore was lying close to them, and learned that they had decided to carry out their fiendish duty that very night. The meeting closed with a calling off of the numbers of the men, or rather the roll-call was repeated. Number Twenty-two answered to his name, and coolly walked off with a number of men to mount his horse, without waiting to hold his little talk with Colonel Yenni. The colonel, however, was not disposed to let his man off so easily, but called out for Number Twenty-two. It was a critical moment. Discovery and death stared the self-devoted man in the face. In an instant, however, his resolution was taken. It was just as certain discovery to shirk off as it was to take the chance of meeting Yenni, and he walked over to the arch fiend of the riders. The colonel whispered in his ear: ' Come to my house to-morrow alone." " At what hour?" "Eight in the evening." It had been a narrow squeak; the daring man had got off in the most fortunate manner, and he congratulated himself upon the decision that had prevented him from attempting to sneak The men rode through the gulch in straggling parties. Our hero had overheard one of the ten men say: " I have no stomach for this job." Macon Moore kept close to that man; he had a purpose in view. He \viis preparing for another of his wondrous feats of coolness and daring. The party were riding along in the darkness, our hero directly the man he had been watching. He had the man's num ber and name, and, as stated, was riding close behind him. The moment the party issued from the gulch the detective threw himself forward over his horse's quarters and pricked the flank of Number Nine's horse. The animal was a fiery, spirited and began to plunge and rear, and finally, with a furious snort, dartad away through the darkness at a tremendous gallop. THE SOUTHERN DKTl-XTIVE. s:5 CHAPTEE XXIII. PREPARING FOR ANOTHER GREAT FEAT. The detective urged his own horse forward in pursuit. None of the other men paid much attention to the galloping steeds, as it was not an unusual incident for horses to take to rearing and plunging at night. Number Nine at length, Avhen fully a quarter of a mile ahead of his comrades, managed to bring his horse down to a steady gait, and our liero rode up beside him. The two men entered into conversation, and Moore speedily learned that Number Nine was a nervous, apprehensive sort of man. He was a young lawyer, whose senior partner was the legal adviser of several of the whisky firms. The senior, not wishing to join the riders, but feeling bound to recognize the organiza tion in some way, as a matter of business, had induced his junior to join them. Randall Bader was an honorable youth, of German descent, and his whole nature recoiled at the horrid duty assigned him to edrform. The detective managed to worm all these facts from the youth without seeming to be seeking the information. " I wish I were in your place," said Moore. " How in my place?" " I wish I had been drawn as one of the ten men appointed to execute those infernal government agents!" "I don't see how any man could desire such an assignment." " I have a personal vengeance to work out, and I would have considered myself very lucky if I had been drawn!" " I wish you had been in my place!" "I wish I had." "I wonder," asked Randall Bader, "if a man could send a substitute, and not break a rule of the organization?" " It could be managed without regard to any rule." "How?" " You^nd I could exchange numbers for the night." "Would you really like to go in my place?" "I would." " It might be discovered that wo had made the exchange of numbers!" " It cannot be discovered unless you betray yourself." "What is vour number?" " And mine is Number Nine!" 84 MACON MOO UK. "It is night; you and I are about the same build; we could change clothes and horses, and no one will ever know in the darkness that such an exchange has been made." " How could the exchange be made back again?" " I would meet you at daylight at any place you might name, and we cau change back identities." " Can I depend upon you?" " If living, as God is my witness, I will be on hand!" " But suppose some discovery should be made, will you exon erate me?" " On my word as a man and a Christian!" "You will swear, under any circumstances, to meet me and exchange back, and not leave me in the lurch?" " I will exonerate you in the face of death itself!" Little did the detective dream, when he made this promise, under what circumstances of peril he would be called upon to redeem his word. " I will make the exchange," said Randall Bader; and the in experienced youth little dreamed of the peril that his act was to bring down upon him. The two men turned aside into a bridle-path, and the change of attire was quickly made, as also an exchange of horses, and a few moments later Number Twenty-two rode out into the road metamorphosed into Number Nine. "Remember!" said our hero, " until we meet again, whenever challenged you must respond as Number Twenty-two." "I will remember." "Of course all challenging will be over by daylight, and con sequently no discovery can be made; you are Selph Tracy, Num ber Twenty-two, I am Randall Bader, Number Nine!" "I am mighty glad to escape the duty assigned me!" "You are at liberty to ride off to your home; Twenty-two has no assignment for to-night, and in the morning we will meet as agreed." " All right," was the response, and the new Number Twenty- two darted along towards the main road. Macon Moore held his horse at the rein, and waited for the balance of his party to come along. He waited but a few seconds, when he was joined by the other nine riders, and one of them said: "Bader, your horse is rather mettlesome to-night?" "Yes," answered Bader; and it would have taken a keen ob server to have noticed any difference between the voices of the real and the false Bader. The party soon turned from the road they had been following and took a bridle-path leading up the mountains. Conversation proceeded with the men, but no allusion was THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 85 made to the bloody work in hand; their whole attention was paid to a discussion of the probable fate of Macon Moore. It was two o'clock in the morning when the party stopped at a mountain tavern for refreshments. The landlord was hustled out of bed to serve them; then the party remounted and rode on for half an hour, when they came to an old stone building situated in the very midst of a group of mountain peaks. It was indeed a lonely and deserted place, and a dozen mur ders could have been perpetrated by a stronger party against a weaker one, without any fear of interruption or subsequent dis covery. The party halted before this stone building, and one of them said: "Here are our prisoners confined!" " How shall we dispose of them?"asked one. " Let's bring them out one at a time and hang them." "Nonsense!" cried still another, "that will take too much time!" " Well, what do you suggest?" " The men are chained?" "Yes." ' ' Let's draw lots who among us shall go in and blow out the doomed men's brains." " What will you do with the bodies?" " Let them lay there and rot until judgment day!" The detective was silent, taking no part in this fearful discus sion. The men talked as coolly as though discussing the slaughter of so many wild animals. At length it was decided that they should draw lots, and that two of their number should be selected to enter the building, and deliberately blow out the brains of the helpless prisoners. The numbers of the men were tossed into a hat, and as luck would have it Number Nine was the first number drawn. " They're saved!" was the mental ejaculation of our hero. The second number was drawn and proved to be the man who had maf/ it. Macon Moore called to Selton Reeves and one other man to follow him down-stairs. The three men stepped out under the starlight. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 91 They found the remaining two riders dismounted, and impa tiently waiting to know what was going on. "Haven't you heard the news?" asked the detective. "What news?" " The latest news." "What is the latest news?'' demanded the men, in astonish ment. " Macon Moore has been up-stairs!" "And the prisoners have been released?" "Yes." " When did this happen?" ejaculated the men, in greater as tonishment. " Just now, not five minutes ago!" "What in thunder do you mean?" and as the man spoke he made an attempt to draw his weapon. It is the custom down where the scenes of which we write oc curred, to " pull " on the slightest provocation. 'Don't get your shooter out!" 'Where is Macon Moore?" 'Right here!" 'Where?" ' / am Macon Moore, Johnny! and you will just get your hands up, gentlemen, or you are dead men!" and as the detective spoke a little battery of three six-shooters was leveled at the amazed and badly-fooled riders. The men offered no resistance. We have had occasion to assert before, and repeat, there is ofttimes victory in a name. The mention of our hero's name prfralyzed the riders. They did not understand how Macon Moore chanced to be present, and yet there he stood. The nine riders were all placed in the garret, and handcuffed and bound as the three government agents had been, and when they had been secured four mounted men rode away. The prisoners had been supplied with horses from the nine belonging to the riders. The detective felt no compunction at leaving the nine riders, as he^knew they would be discovered before they starved to death, and in case they did starve, they would be only meeting the fate that would have at the time been intended for the gov ernment agents. At the dawn of that same day Macon Moore was confronted with the greatest dilemma of his life. 92 MACON MOORE, CHAPTEB XXVI. THE DETECTIVE BKOUGHT TO BAY. Our hero was a man of his word. He had promised to meet Randall Bader at daylight and exchange back disguises with him. At the time of making the promise he little dreamed of the 1 p. Til the transaction had brought upon the young man who had be come his accomplice. It was the gray of the morning, while riding along with the released prisoners, that a recollection of his promise came to him, and he bade his friends good-by after arranging to meet them at a certain point later in the day. The detective proceeded along until he came near to the tryst- ing place where he was to meet Bader, when he dismounted from his horse and reconnoitered the ground. Macon Moore was a man who had made it a rule to be always on his guard. He argued that a man in his business was never safe, and never accepted any state of facts as a matter of course. Upon the occasion in question the wisdom of his rule was ex emplified. He 'saw Randall Bader standing beside his horse, at the ap pointed place, and it would appear that all was right, and most men would have advanced at once, throwing all caution aside. Our hero, however, did not do business that way. He thought he would watch brother Bader a bit, and learn whether or not during the interim the young man had become a party to any other scheme. As above stated, the wisdom of his precaution was almost im mediately verified. The man he saw wore the clothes that had been transferred; he was standing beside the same horse he had ridden away on a fnt for yon?" "I said you told me last night that you wished to see me." The colonel determined to talk against time; at any moment a 104 MACON MOORE, number of the riders might appear on hand, and the peril might be removed forever. "You must be mistaken, Mr. Moore; I do not know of any business I may have with you." " You had business with Number Twenty-tiro, and I may as well inform you that I was Number Twenty-two last night." In an even tone the colonel answered : "I do not know as it is necessary to enter into explanations. I repeat I have no business with Macon Moore!" "Well, then, Colonel Yenni, I might as well tell you that I have some private business with you!" It required the utmost effort of the colonel's will to avoid be traying his trepidation. " What may your business be with me?" " I wish to ask you by what right you doom a man to death a man who has broken no law?" " I have not doomed any man to death." " Is Randall Bader a free man?" "Randall Bader is a member of an association banded together for mutual protection; he has broken some of the rules of the brotherhood, and is held for trial on the charges. I have no more to do with the matter than yourself." "You have not?" " I have not." "You are not aware that young Baden has been adjudged to die unless some of your band manage to make a corpse of myself before night?" "I am not aware of any such state of facts." " I am compelled to assume that you are." "I cannot help what you assume." "The day will come when you will." "If you have come here to threaten me, I will be compelled to. resent your insolence. " " Don't attempt anything rash, I pray you; and now listen to me. I have business for you, or I would announce to you that you wore my prisoner." " I do not understand you." " And I shall not bother you with any explanations; all I have got to say to you is that I want you to secure the immediate re lease of Randall Bader." " I have no power to hold or release him." " All right. But mark my words, if anything evil befalls that young man, within twelve hours afterv.-avd yon will meet with the most excruciating death that over mortal man suffered!" " Sir!" ejaculated Colonel Yenni. "You have heard my words, and you can well understand their meaning." THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 105 " But I tell you I have no influence over the fate of Randall Bader." "You had better acquire that influence, colonel, for on that young man's life hangs your own!" The detective walked down the piazza steps and proceeded to where his horse was tethered, and, mounting, he would have ridden away without another word, but he was halted by the colonel, who called out: " One moment, if yoii please!" The colonel had caught sight of a number of horsemen wind ing down a distant mountain road, and if he could only detain Macon Moore until their arrival, there might come death to the scourge. Matters had come to such a pass that Colonel Yenni was pre pared to take the most desperate chances. As matters stood he was a doomed man. There was no possible hope for him except in the death of the scourge; beside, circumstances were closing in on him, and at any moment he might be brought face to face with his fate. He thought he had a point on our hero, but the fact was, Macon Moore had also caught a glimpse of those horsemen wind ing down the distant mountain road. "What would you say, colonel?" " Will you not remain and dine with me?" The detective laughed; but he was on his guard. The colonel would have said something more, but our hero did not feel that he had any time to spare. " Good-morning, colonel!" he called, and putting spurs to his horse, galloped away. Our hero had important business in another direction, and his adventures after leaving the colonel were even more tragic and exciting than any he had yet encountered. CHAPTER XXXI. A RIDEK'S BOASTS. Macorf- Moore felt that he had respited young Bader. He knew that Yenni's word was law, and that an order from him to kill or spare would be obeyed. Colonel Yenni had a motive "to spare"; there was a shadow hanging over him that would be likely to incline him to the side of mercy. Macon Moore did not intend to trust the young man's eventual fate, however, to so slender a thread. Incidents might arise of such extraordinary a character as to 106 MACON MOORE, imperil Bader's life, despite Yenni's enforced influence in his behalf. The sure effect of the warning the chief of the riders had re ceived was indicated immediately after the detective's depar ture. The party both Yenni and the detective had seen riding down the distant mountain road reached the colonel's house in due time. They proved to be riders; in fact, the survivors of the com mittee that had been sent to murder Selton Reeves and the other prisoners. Simultaneously with the arrival of the remnant of the mur der committee, Rogers and two other riders reached the colonel's house. Colonel Yenni was reticent concerning his daring visitor. For worlds he would not have had the riders know that the scourge had insolently visited him at his own house, and had rid den away unharmed, as leisurely as he had arrived. The remnant of the committee told the story of their adven tures, and Rogers informed the colonel that he had failed in "laying out" the famous detective. The colonel was well aware of the latter fact, but pretended to be very mad and greatly disappointed, although he was cun ning enough to avail himself of the position of affairs to save his own neck. " You say the scourge did not come to keep his trysting with Bader?" "He did not," answered Rogers; but he did not state, also, the fact that he had discovered evidences of the detective's presence. The fact was, that when Rogers had been riding away he came upon our hero's trail, and he was shrewd enough to know that Macon Moore had been on hand to keep his promise, but had evidently discovered the little trap set for him, and had sheered off in time to avoid a "cage." "I thought you said that Moore was a man whx> would never break a promise?" ' I did say so." 'And yet he did not keep his trysting with Bader?" ' The chances aro that he never made such a promise." ' Bader says he did." ' Bader may- have lied !" The colonel pretended to be lost in thought a few moments, but at length exclaimed: " I have an idea; I do not believe it would be policy to exe cute Bader at present." "That's my idea," said Rogers. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 107 " We may use the young man as a bait to capture Moore." "That was just what I was about to propose." Colonel Yenni was delighted. He began to feel the shadow lifting that had rested over him. " I will issue a command for him to be held in safe custody." "Be quick about it," said Rogers. There was no doubt, under the circumstances, but the colonel would be speedy enough in countermanding the death-warrant. A man was sent with the countermand, and the chop-fallen riders entered the house to hold a sort of inquest over their many disappointments. A single man had baffled and humiliated every one of those men assembled at the colonel's house. They had all become bitter and desperate. The owner of the house opened the conversation with a remark that seemingly expressed the sentiments of all: "That cursed detective has beaten us at every point; he has got the laugh on every man of us, and if we cannot get him out of the way we had better each of us put a bullet through our own temples." All hands echoed the colonel's sentiments, with curses, not loud, but deep. As previously stated, the majority of the distilleries were stand ing idle. Great bulks of " mash" had gone to mold on their hands, and already thousands of dollars had been lost; and one man, who seemed to flit around like a human broom of destruction, had been the cause of the whole disaster. Something must be done, was the ruling cry, or ruin would overtake them; both financial and moral ruin stared them all in the face. Rogers was the loudest talker; he boasted that the detective would have been settled long previously had he only shown up at the trysting. " Arteaga has offered twenty thousand dollars reward for the capture or death of Macon Moore," said Yenni. " He has; and if I ever come across the man, I will earn that money, "^.aid Rogers. "twill double Arteaga's offer! I will pay twenty thousand dollars additional for his capture and death." " He has got to go down sooner or later; he cannot always evade me," said Rogers. The latter was a man of great stature and wonderful physical strength. He was a man born in Maine, of Irish parents; he did not lack courage, and was a terrible bully. All hands present had great faith in Rogers. He was known 108 MACON MOORE, to be cool in emergencies; he was an adept with the bowie- knife, and an expert pistol-shot. Rogers was a full-blooded deperado, an inveterate gambler, and, to gratify his passion for play, had become an unprincipled criminal. It was decided that Bader should serve as a bait, and that Rogers should become the accredited executioner of the scourge. During all the talk Colonel Yenni never let on that he had had, within the hour, a visit from the detective. Rogers proclaimed that he had never seen Moore, and had not the least idea as to his personal appearance. Colonel Yenni furnished an accurate description of our hero's personal appearance. Said he: 'Macon Moore is an under-sized man, slender in build, light hair, gray eyes, almost blue, handsome face, with features and complexion like a woman." "And this pretty little man is raising all this trouble?" queried Rogers. "He may be a pretty little man," said Yenni, "but he pos sesses the strength of a giant, is as quick as lightning in his movements, possesses nerves of steel, and a heart like a lion. - Little and pretty as he is, he is the most terrible man to encoun ter above ground in the Southern States to-day." "You can all make up your minds that the forty thousand dollars will be my money, if Macon Moore and Mike Rogers ever come face to face and eye to eye. As Rogers was supposed to possess to a certain extent all the qualities credited to the great detective, the " Mooners " had hopes that the man was not making a vain boast. " If you get away with Macon Moore, you are the best man on top of the earth to-day!" said one of them. "If I ever set my eyes on him he's my meat, you may make up your mind!" ' ' I hope you may set eyes on him ere the setting of yonder sun!" was the response. " It will not be my fault if I do not; and between you and me it was not half an hour apro that I thought I did have him!" CHAPTER XXXII. LEADING FOR A TRAIL. The party supposed that Rogers alluded to the meeting that was to have" taken place at the point where the tryst with Bader had been appointed, but Rogers an instant later said: "When I was on my way here, beyond there at the meeting THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. lot) of the four roads, I met a man whom at first I thought might be the scourge, as you call him." " What sort of a looking man did you meet?" Rogers described the man he had met upon the road, when Colonel Yenni exclaimed: " So sure as you are a living man it was Macon Moore whom you met!" Roger's face fell. " By my own good nature then have I let the man escape!" he exclaimed; and he told how he had met a horseman, who in the most innocent manner had made inquiries concerning his route. "Upon my word," he added, "I thought of all men in the world the detective knew every foot of ground hereabouts, and never dreamed that so innocent a looking chap was the man who has been raising the devil round here; but since you describe him I know it was him." " The man is not more than an hour and a half's ride ahead of you; why don't you men try and overtake him?" " I'll be on his trail this minute!" cried Rogers, and followed by the other riders, he rushed forth, and mounting his horse, galloped away. Colonel Yenni did not accompany the men, but in his heart hoped that they might overtake him, and down him forever. In the meantime the great detective had kept upon his way. His destination was the residence of Arteaga. Macon Moore had regretted the urgent business that had at tracted him away from the solution of the mystery attending the fate of Lucy Bridges. He feared for her a more terrible fate than death. He was assured in his own mind that he held Arteaga's secret; and were his surmises correct, the girl was in greater peril than if menaced by a thousand deaths. Our hero also entertained a suspicion that Lucy was concealed somewhere in the Spaniard's house, and at any moment it might prove that a rescue had come too late. It was a twenty -five mile ride from the residence of Colonel Yenni to the splendid home of the Spaniard; and it was toward sundown, when our hero picketed his tired horse in the woods nearthe house where the gii'l was a possible prisoner. The detective had refreshed both himself and his horse at a tavern back on the road, and was prepared for a whole night of adventures. As matters were shaping, the chances were in favor of a very lively series of adventures. As our readers will remember, old Mr. Bridges had been left to watch the Spaniard's house. The detective had arranged with the old clergyman where he 110 MACOX MOORE, was to meet him, and, after tetbering his horse, he proceeded to the trysting-ground. The clergyman was not on hand. Macon Moore wandered around in every direction, and at different parts uttered the warning signal that had been arranged between them. No an swer came. Proceeding toward the house, a most startling dis covery was made. The Spaniard's house was closed. It was evident that a hegira had taken place, or a trick was being played. Night was coming apace, and under cover of the deepening shadows the detective stepped out from his covert and advanced close to the house. ^ Not a sign of life around could he discover. The Spaniard's residence was always kept closed, but there was an air about the place proving desertion. The detective was perplexed. He did not know at the mo ment which way to turn. At length he determined to force an entrance into the house, and make a thorough search. One thing he could do, and that was satisfy himself that the girl still lived, and had been a prisoner. It was a simple matter for our hero to gain an entrance, and it was but a few moments ere he was in the house. He was on his guard; there was a chance that some trick was being played; that some trap had been set for him. Arteaga knew that Macon Moore would most likely return to his house, and the Spaniard's plans demanded the detective's death. The latter possessed a secret which, if exposed, would ruin Arteaga both socially and financially. Again the Spaniard was engaged in a certain villainous in trigue, and had reason to suspect that the scourge was piping him on that "lay" also. Our hero believed that a "flitting " had taken place, from the fct that the watcher he had detailed was missing; still, as stated above, there was a chance that a trap had been set for him. He had forced an entrance through a rear window, and found himself in total darkness when within the house. Drawing his masked lantern, the detective flashed its sharp ray of light around; nothing met his gaze indicating the presence of any one, and he slowly ascended to the second floor. As our readers will remember, ho had been interrupted at the time of his previous visit, when seeking to solve the mystery of that scream he had hoard emanating from a female. A visit was paid to every room on the second floor, and THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. Ill nothing fell under his observation tending to a solution of the mystery. The house was but two stories in height, but as there was a slanting roof it would appear that there must be an attic apart ment. It was just at this point that the searcher was baffled. He could not find any stairway leading to an upper apartment. A less shrewd and cunning man would have concluded that the attic rooms had been omitted when the house was built. Macon Moore, however, did not feel satisfied to rest on any such theory. He searched where the stairs ought to have been, to discover if they had been removed, but could not find any sign. Continuing his examination, he scanned the wall for some sign of a trap-door, but could find none. Still unsatisfied, he commenced sounding the walls for some secret panel passage, but failed again. Even after all the above failures he was not discouraged. The facts inspired a continued search. There must be attic rooms, and he had heard signs of the presence of a female in the house, without discovering any signs of her former presence in any of the rooms that he had examined. CHAPTER XXXIII. A STAKTLING DISCOVEKY. The detective was determined to search for rooms above, even if he were compelled to pierce the ceiling and bore his way through. There was an open fire-place, with the old-fashioned and-irons ready to receive the burning log. The detective bent down and flashed the light of his lamp up the chimney passage, and lo! his search was rewarded. He had made a singular and curious discovery. The light of his lantern fell upon a large, old-fashioned padlock dangling some two feet above the upper molding of the fire-place. tA. padlock in a chimney passage meant something; in fact, in his own mind, Macon Moore was assured that he had found the secret passage, and the discovery of a hidden passage meant se cret apartments, and secret apartments meant a prisoner. The fire-place had not been iised for its original purpose for years, as no soot had accumulated; and, singularly enough, not even the dust that would be expected to gather in an unused passage-way. The detective had no key, but with the use of a little powder 112 MACON MOORE, he burst the lock, and, eureka! the mystery was solved. A door was opened and a miniature staircase was disclosed. Ascending the stairs, our hero found himself in a large attic, and to the rear and center was a room partitioned off with an iron door attached. The door was unlocked, and the detective entered the room. The proofs he had sought lay all before him. The room had but recently been occupied by a female. There was no chance of doubt upon the above score, and an instant later unmistakable proofs were forthcoming that the prisoner had been Lucy Bridges. The detective found the very dress, torn and blood-stained, that he had seen upon the beautiful girl the first time that he had seen her on that fatal night Avhen tragedies abounded. The discovery was followed by the suggestion of the most ter rible possibilities. Macon Moore felt his heart beat tumultuously as he considered the lovely girl's possible fate. She had been nearly a week a prisoner in that room, at the mercy of the wretch Arteaga, and the detective's knowledge of the fierce character of her captor filled his heart with strange forebodings. No time was to be lost. One fact was established: Arteaga had carried his prisoner away, and Macon Moore must strike the trail, and at all hazards follow and recover her from the villain's custody. The flight must have taken place within a few hours. There were evidences in the secret room showing a very recent occu pancy. The detective descended from the attic by the secret passages, and had passed out to the upper hall, when he made an impor tant discovery. He had been trailed to Arteaga's house. There were men on the porch, and they were seeking an en trance into the house. The detective knew that he had been trailed from the fact that the riders had not used the knocker to summon any one to ad mit them; they were holding a consultation on the piazza. He would have stolon down the stairs and have left the house by the same window through which lie had entered, but ere he could run down and carry out his plan the door was burst in, and four or five masked men entered. Out went the detective's litrht, and, re-entering the room ho had just come from, he ran to the window to study his chances for escape. It was eighteen feet to the ground, and he dared not make the THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 113 leap, lest lie might be disabled and fall an easy victim to the men who were seeking to assassinate him. The detective had recognized Rogers as the leader of the party who were miming him down. He knew the man by reputation as a daring and desperate villain, who would stop at no crime, and who was shrewd and cunning. The riders held a consultation in the lower hall. The detective could overhear what passed between them, al though they spoke in very low tones. "It is dead certain that we traced our man to this house!" said Rogers. "And it is dead certain that I saw the momentary flash of a light in one of the upper rooms." " Then we have got him caged!" "Dead sure!" " We must not lose him this time!" "If we do not catch him now we never will!" The men spoke in whispers, but being right above them, the detective was able to overhear almost every word. "We must guard against any of this man's tricks," said Rogers. Macon Moore permitted a grim smile to play over his face. He was in a tight hole, but, relying upon his nerve and cour age, was determined to get out of it. Nothing would have suited him better than to have had a hand-to-hand conflict with Rogers. The fact was, he would have been glad to remove so dangerous a man from his path. Again he heard Rogers speak: " Shoot the first shadow that crosses your path! Don't stop to identify or challenge!" "But we are not sure we have trailed the right man!" came the suggestion. " We . will make sure by dropping the wrong one!" was the brutal a'hswer. The above conversation transpired during the space of a few seconds. The detective began to feel that, after all, he would bo com- peHed to risk the leap from a second-story window, but a certain change in the programme below stairs caused him to abide an other chance. The men had not produced any lights. Whether it was an oversight or whether the omission was by design, our hero did not know, but he determined to avail himself of the omission. He still stood by the stairway, when he heard Rogers say: "Are the men all disposed as I directed?" "Yes." 114 MACON MOORE, "There is no chance for any one to leave this house at any point without being seen?" ''A mouse couldn't escape without being seen/' "All right. Two of you remain at this stairway, while the other two search every room on this floor and iu the 'cellar; and, niiud you, at the first sight of a shadow of a man drop him. No parley, no challenges!" " What do you propose to do?" asked one of the riders. " Our man is up-stairs. I will go up alone, and woe betide Macon Moore if he and I meet face to face!" Our hero made up his mind that all of the latter conversation was intended for hearing. CHAPTER XXXIV. MACON MOOEE IN A COKNKR. If Rogers intended to weaken his man, he was looking down from up the tree. Macon Moore was not a man who scared. He was the son of a soldier who had died in service, and he had encountered more perilous adventures than any man of his age in the State. He was past the scare period, and had reached that point where he was prepared at any moment to die with his boots on. The idea pleased him that there was a prospect of a hand-to- hand conflict with the deperate Rogers. Under other circumstances Macon Moore would have fought the giant, but as matters stood he was compelled to "play mouse " on him. Our hero entered the room farthest from the stairway and waited. A few moments passed, and he became aware of the fact that his enemy was approaching. Rogers was trying to move in a very stealthy manner, but his great weight caused an occasional creak sufficient for our hero to mark his course in the darkness. Rogers had made so many boasts that it had become a fixed desire in his mind to " lay out" the scourge alone and unaided. The fellow craved not only the glory of the deed, but the whole of the reward. Forty thousand dollars was the bait that had been dangled be fore his greedy eyes and he wan striving to capture it all. Macon Moore had made up his mind as to his game. He made a slight noise. His purpose was a deliberate inten tion to apprise Rogers of his presence. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 115 The moment lie made the noise he changed his position, and became aware that his foe had come to a halt. Rogers did not dare proceed rashly. He had too great a re spect for the coolness and prowess of the man he was "piping." It was a fateful moment. Two human lives hung in the bal ance, and but a hair suspended the drop. Rogers feared that the detective might get the bead on him and shoot, and he had been given to understand that when his man got the bead some other man was sure to go down. The rider shied over close to the wall, dropped upon his hands and kuees, and slowly crawled forward. Both men were in total darkness. It was impossible even to have discovered the outline of a person standing within a few feet. A singular incident occurred. Macon Moore's keener sense of hearing was a better guide to him at the moment than his eyesight. He was assured of Rogers' position, and taking the other side of the hall, he crawled past his man. Thus, within a few sec onds, the positions of the two men were changed. Macon Moore was maneuvering for an advantage ground. He had a little game to work, but it required that he should "light on "the proper position to work it. Again, he must carry out his scheme without making the slightest noise, as the faintest sound meant death. Rogers crawled to the far end of the hall, and made no discov eries. It was now our hero's time to act. It was a truly desperate game the detective was playing, and the man who was to be overcome was destined to become an abettor in his own discomfiture. Macon Moore, having changed positions with Rogers, ap proached the latter, making sufficient noise to indicate his pre sence. > It was a critical moment when our hero boldly uttered the warning signal: " Hist!" Rogersjcame toward him, and Moore said, in a whisper: " We have trailed him!" Speaking in a whisper, it is almost impossible to detect one's voice. " Where have you trailed him?" asked Rogers, also in a whis per. " He is hiding in the library." " Are you dead sure?" "Yes." "I heard some one moving by here." 116 MAt'ON MOORE, The two men had their heads close together, and the detec tive's opportunity hud come. Suddenly, and with the quick ness of a flash, his right arm was extended and circled down around Rogers' neck! The detective was not a large man, but he possessed muscles like hardened steel. The head of the ponderous Rogers was jerked downward, and the next instant a prepared handkerchief was pressed against his mouth and nostrils. The victim of the maneuver was taken at a disadvantage l>y the suddenness and dexterity of our hero's movements. Ho was compelled to inhale a long breath, and in so doing sucked into his lungs the fatal vapor with which the handkerchief had been saturated. Instant insensibility followed, and the huge man sank over as limp and helpless as a young girl sinking off in a fainting fit. Moore's work was but half accomplished; the darbies, which lie always carried ready for use, were brought into immediate requisition, and, also, ere the man recovered consciousness, a gag was forced into his mouth. The same handkerchief which had carried the subtle vapor was made to serve as a rope whereby to bind his feet, and all WHS secure. A gentle smile irradiated the face of the detective, as he re alized how neatly he had come his game over his huge, opponent, the latter having boasted so often as to what he would do with the scourge. As matters stood, it appeared as though the tables had been very cleverly turned over on him. Our hero intended to risk a little enjoyment of his singular victory. He waited until the effects of the subtle vapor had passed away, when he leaned down and whispered in Rogers's ear: " How do you feel, old man? Think your chance is good for Arteaga's gold?" It was too dark for the detective to observe the convulsion of ml disappointment that distorted his victim's face. He could imagine very readily, however, that the convulsion was there all the same. Again whispering in the man's ear, the detective said: " So you are the lad that was to lay out Macon Moore, eh? You are a nice chap for such a huge job; it sort of strikes me that you are laying out quite nice and snug yourself at this moment." Our hero had a purpose in thus tantalizing his man; he was not doing it merely to torture him, he was taking the spunk out of the man and making him less dangerous hi H/f future. Our hero never did things for fun, as the sequel will show, THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. U7 CHAPTER XXXV. OTJK HEKO GETS OUT OF A COKNER AND TUKNS THE TABLES. It was our hero's intention to let Rogers know who had " downed " him. The rider lay helpless upon the floor, and was destined to be still more thoroughly tantalized, and compelled to more com pletely understand what a wonderful man he had pitted himself against. Going to the head of the stairs the detective uttered a low whistle, and immediately an answering whistle was heard. "All right below there?" cried Moore, in a loud whisper. "All right!" came the answer. " One of you come up here!" was the command sent down. One of the men who had been left to watch at the foot of the stairs came up. "Hist!'' said the detective, and the man halted. Our hero leaned over and put his lip to the man's ear and whispered : " I've got him!" The man uttered an exclamation of surprise, but was warned by a hist to speak low. "Go and call all the men, and gather them in the library." "Why?" asked the man. " I've a surprise for you." Darkness aided our hero in carrying out his scheme. Again, it is a common thing for men to be fooled when circumstances lead them to accept certain facts as a matter of course. When men are prepared to take things for granted, it is an easy thing to fool their senses. "When all the men are gathered in the library four of you come up here and take our man down-stairs." "Whatman?" "I've got him bound and gagged as secure as a roped pig; but don't let on until all the men are gathered in the library. I want to^urprise them." The man was fooled. He was not a professional detective, and not suspicious, and on the "lay" for points. The moment the men left the stairway our hero returned and Avlusporod in Rogers's ear..: "It's all right!" The fact was the man who had boasted how he would lay out Miu-on Moore, the scourge, lay helpless, listening to every word that the detective had said. 118 MACON MOORE, He saw through the wonderful man's scheme, and realized with mental gnashing of teeth what a fearful "rig" was being pla/ed on him. The detective came back and whispered in his ear: "It's all right! They will not hang you when they discover who you are." Our hero went to the stairway, and, after listening a moment, passed down and took a position in the rear of the house. From his place of hiding he saw the men gather in the library. He heard their laughing and congratulatory remarks upon the capture of their foe. " Is he dead?" asked one. " Shall we hang him?" asked another. " Rogers is a trump, after all!" exclaimed a third man, and all wore happy and delighted over the wonderful capture. The detective did smile as he overheard the above remarks, and he contemplated with feelings of real delight their chagrin and mortification when they should make the singular discovery that awaited them. At length it was announced that all hands were gathered in the library, and Moore ^aw the four men go above stairs to se cure the prisoner. It was time for him to leave, and he passed out the door, and, running round the house, crept to a window from whence he could see into the room where the scene of surprise was to occur. The men did not stay to lift their prisoner down-stairs, but dragged him down in the most careless and brutal manner. He was dragged into the library, and far into the room before they stopped to take a look at him, and then well, such an ex pression as came over their faces! They all took in the situation at a glance. That wonderful man, Macon Moore, had fooled them once more, and this last time in a more remarkable manner than upon any former occasion. it \vas some moments before they recovered sufficiently from their amazement to release Rogers. They had stood gazing aghast too amazed even to cnrse. At length one of them set to work to free their leader from his bonds. The moment the gag was taken from his mouth Rogers expec torated just once, and then a torrent of oaths fell from his lips such us were never heard to fall before from a human tongue. " Where is he?" shouted the man, running about in a frantic manner. A peculiar noise outside the house informed them that he was not far off. THE SOUTHEEN DETECTIVE. 119 A stampede of horses was heard and the truth was known. Macon Moore had only stopped to see the discovery made, and he set to work to free the horses of the riders, and all were loose and wildly galloping away in a few seconds. Having set the horses free, our hero sped away through the darkness to the point where he had tethered his own horse. Once mounted, he rode down towards the house that had been the scene of his recent adventure. When in front of the house he uttered a loud halloo and dashed away. He had a purpose in his halloo. His purpose was to draw the men away from the place, as he wished to pick up a trail. The girl was missing, and he was determined to find her dead or alive, if possible, before the dawn of another day. An hour later our hero reappeared at the house of Arteaga. The riders had gone, and he had the field to himself, and had just set out to search for a trail when he became the hero of an other strange incident. CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PURSUIT. The detective had returned to Arteaga's house in search of a trail. He -had settled the question as to the fact of Lucy Bridges having been a prisoner in the house, and his purpose was to strike a trail. He had, as stated in our previous chapter, completely demora lized the riders. He had set their horst,s loose, and started them flying off in different directions. The latter maneuver prevented a pursuit of himself. The riders could not afford to lose their steeds; there was no article, in their society's constitution that provided for making good the loss of a horse. Our hero waited until he had seen them all depart, hallooing and gesticulating like so many wild Indians. He ^id not fear their immediate return. They would not sus pect that the detective would return, and that was just the reason that he did so. There was no question in our hero's mind as to the very recent departure of the captors with their prisoner, and the flight had been a hurried one. Dismounting, Moore proceeded towards the house, and had gone but a few steps when he saw a dark figure skulking along under the shadow of the trees. He drew his pistol with the muttered remark : " Hello! there's one of the rascals t till loitering around here 120 MACON MOORE, to dog my movements. I did not give the fellows credit for so much shrewdness." It must be remembered that a majority of the riders were merely employees of the distillers. They were not intelligent men as a class, although there were really smart and well-educated men among them. It was the former fact that caused the detective's contempt of the riders as a whole. The moment he detected the skulker, as stated, he drew his pistol, quietly cocked if, and dropped down in the grass on the watch. "Ill just reconnoiter you, my man, a bit," he muttered. The skulker disappeared in the woods, and the detective, after waiting a few moments, moved off, dodging from tree to tree, until he came to the stone wall lining Arteaga's grounds. Onco beside the wall, ho started at a swift pace until he reached a point from where he could cross unobserved over to the woods, and again along through the brusji to a position behind tho skulker. Without accident he accomplished his purpose, and once again came in sight of his man. The latter was standing on the verge of tho brush, with his eyes fixed upon the house. As the detective approached nearer he saw that tho man had his head bandaged, as though he had been wounded by blows. " Who can he be?" muttered Moore, as a recollection came to his mind that he had not wounded any of the riders in such a manner. Suddenly a strange suspicion flashed across his mind. He moved closer to the man, and at length uttered the signal whistle that had been arranged as a recognition-call between him and the father of Lucy Bridges. The moment he uttered the signal he saw the man bend his head and listen. The detective stepped from cover and approached. It was Leonard Bridges who stood before him. The two men exchanged rapid greetings, when the detective asked : "Where have you been? What has happened?" "They have stolen my child away. The poor darling will be come the victim of that wretch, Arteaga!" " Tell me all about it?" " You left me to watch, and nothing occurred until just before daylight, or just about daylight, this morning.'' " What occurred then?" "Arteaga returned to his home on a horse flecked with foam; he had evidentlv had a hard ride. A few moments after his re- THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 121 turn he was joined by three men; the latter came in a close car riage. 'I crept close and watched, and soon saw a woman closely veiled brought from the house and placed in the carriage, and, before I could thoroughly realize what was being accomplished or interfere, the carriage drove away." " It was your daughter they were carrying off." "I know that; and the moment I recovered from the fii'st feel ing of surprise and horror, I ran away in the same direction the carriage had been driven." "You could not follow a carriage for comfort, old man." " I did not. Half a mile from here, at a farm-house, I secured a horse and ctfntinued the pursuit, and ten miles from here I overtook the party. I rode right up and challenged them, when I was set upon, beaten to insensibility, and must have been thrown over a fence, while still insensible, into the brush." " They probably thought it was a corpse they were throwing over the fence." " They probably did; and I must have lain for a long time, as it was far into the day when I recovered consciousness, and found myself lying behind a ditch, covered with blood." " You should not have declared yourself." " What! would you have me stand idly by and see my beauti ful child carried off as the victim of a " "Hush!" cried the detective; "do not, even to yourself, ad mit that fact, although you have made the recognition." "I did, the moment I recalled the strange questions you put to me." " It would have been fortunate if you had just tracked them, and then returned to me. What could an old man do against four well-armed ruffians?" '-I did not think they would dare attack me in open daylight with houses so near, and negroes working in the fields a short distance away." " Did you not make an outcry?" "No; the first blow must have knocked me insensible." "Where did this occur?" The old clergyman described the place. It was at a point where ttfree roads diverged. The party had merely stopped to rest'their horses and give them drink in a run that crossed the road. " You need have no fear; I will rescue your child!" " But what will you return to me?" asked the old man, in a tone of anguish pitiful to hear. " I will return her to you as beautiful and pure as an angel from heaven ["answered the detective, in a tone of vehemence. "Never! never! That mulatto fiend Avill improve his opportu nity. O Heaven! I would my child were dead!" 122 MACON MOORE, "You need liave no such wish. You have everything to hope. I tell you your child shall be restored pure and un harmed. " " On what grounds dare you make such a promise to a heart broken father V "I will tell you. Arteaga knows that Macon Mowe is on his track!" CHAPTER XXXVII. IN A DILEMMA. " I know you are a wonderful man, but that fiend has my child in his power, and what will restrain him?" " The knowledge that lam on his track. He will not dare harm your child as long as I am above ground. And I shall not sleep until that wretch and I are face to face, and I shall demand Lucy at his hands. He knows that, old man!" "But why then does he dare steal her away and detain her in his Tiateful costody?" " He is retaining her in the hope that something will happen to me. If I should fall, God help your child!" added the detec tive, in a tone of chilling solemnity. " I shall pray unceasingly that nothing will happen to you." "I have no fears; I am used to greater perils than I am likely to encounter in trailing Arteaga and his hirelings. The game will soon be in mv own hands; and then woe betide that skulking fiend!" The confident tone in which the detective spoke reassured the old man. As the two stood under the shadow of the trees, an idea sud denly came to our hero. There was not much difference in the build of himself and the old clergyman. The detective possessed such a wonderful skill in " make up," that he knew he could disguise himself so as to assuni" the counterpart appearance of the old man. " We will go into the house," he said. "When will you start after the abductors?" "At once; but first I must prepare myself for the long trail." "How prepare yourself?" The detective laughed, as he remarked: "C'ome into Arteaga' s house, and in a little while I will have a surprise for you." The detective easily found a means for entering the house. 'Hi" clergyman was surprised, when a light had been pro cured, to see the rich articles of furniture scattered around in careless confusion. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 123 "To think," he said, "that such a wretch should be the master of such costly wares!" ' The fruits of an illicit traffic," said Macon Moore. The two men were in the library, and the clergyman was sur prised wheii ordered to remove his outer clothing. ' What! Do you mean to remain here all night?" 'No; I mean to borrow your clothes." ' And am I to assume yours?" ' Until such time as you can reach the house of your friend." ' Am I not to accompany you in the pursuit of my child?" 'No; I have another mission for you. Your assistance I will need, but not on the trail." The old clergyman removed his clothing. Taking the clothes, our hero went up-stairs. He had a light with him, and sought Arteaga's chamber, and, with the aid of a mirror, commenced the metamorphosis. In about twenty minutes the detective returned to the lower room; and as he entered the old clergyman uttered an exclama tion of amazenrent. " It's my very self!" he exclaimed. "Would I pass for Dominie Bridges among strangers?" " I tell you it's my very self!" The detective laughed as he said: "I may give you the credit for being a very warlike man with in the next forty-eight hours." The old man, despite his sorrow and anguish, was compelled to smile at the odd conceit, and he remarked: "It will amaze those rascals when you come across them to find the dominie a man of knives and pistols." "Yes, that's my idea; and my present disguise will be an ad vantage on that account." "Why?" " They will be off their guard; and when they come to it, alas! if I am true to myself, it will be too late!" " When do yon start after them?" "At once. And now I will send you on a mission." " I am ready to go anywhere." The detective told the" old man what he wanted him to do, and they extinguished the lights and stole forth from the house. A quarter moon was shining, and as Macon stole forth, on his guard as usual, lie heard a stop. "Hist!" he wispered, warningly, and motioned to his com panion to lie low. A train the detective had learned the advantage of his constant caution. Had ho and the clergyman left, the house as though all were right, alarm would have been given at an unfortunate moment. 124 MACOX MOORE, The two men had stolen from the house by the rear entrance, and it was steps upon the front piazza that our hero had over heard. Ho told his companion to remain quiet, and More stole around to the front of the house. As he reached the end of the piazza, he cautiously glanced over the edge, and saw the shadow of a mau reflected on one of the portico columns. He was glad that he had extinguished his light in the house just in time. The man on the piazza was evidently reconnoitering. He glanced about in every direction. The detective learned this by watching the glancing movements of the shadow, as he could not see the man, who was standing close in the doorway. At length the man stepped out upon the piazza. It was evi dent that his suspicion had been aroused or his keen instincts alarmed. He came towards the end of the piazza where our hero was crouching. The latter darted away and ran round to the rear of the house, and whispered to the clergyman to follow him, Macon Moore had recognized the man the moment he had stepped out from the doorway. The two men ran down the garden-path and sought conceal ment behind out-buildings. They were just in time, as tho man came around the corner of the house, evidently taking all the bearings. The detective stole forth as the man disappeared around the opposite side of the house. It appeared a fortunate circumstance to our hero that he had discovered the man, as it was Pedro, the minion and confiden tial confederate of the man Arteaga. The detective sought his former vantage-ground at the end of the piazza, and was crouched there when Pedro came around and reascended the stoop. It was evident that the man had been sent back by his master to reconuoiter. Macon Moore was in a dilemma. Should he declare himself to the half-breed and force a confession; or should he merely trail him, and discover by the latter means the new prison of the girl? Had Pedro gone away the detective would have merely fol lowed him, but the man entered the house. Like the shadow of doom the detective stole round to the rear of the house and entered also. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 125 CHAPTEE XXXVIII. AN EXTRAORDINARY ANTAGONIST. The two men were in the house. It was evident that Pedro had come to the conclusion that there was no one around the premises. The half-breed was destined to be undeceived in a most start ling and marvelous manner. The man entered the library and struck a light, and as the illumination chased the darkness away he turned about and be held the old clergyman standing in the room. A cry of terror burst from Pedro's lips. The man had boon present when the old clergyman had been beaten and thrown as a corpse over the fence into the ditch; and there he stood, seem ingly unhurt, and without the sign of a single wound. The half-breed at once conceived the idea that he was being confronted by a ghost. The impression, under the circumstances, was a natural one to a man who was prepared to believe in apparitions; and again, the fact of being in a deserted house, and having a form appi-ar so mysteriously and so noiselessly, aided the deception. Pedro stood gazing with distended eyes and trembling limbs, when there came a voice demanding: "Where is my child?" The man could not reply. His tongue literally cleaved to the roof of his mouth. Again came the voice demanding: "Where is my child?" and a pointing finger was extended towards the cowering wretch. Pedro still remained silent and trembling, when his ques tioner coughed. The half-breed was no coward when face to face with a mortal; especially did he became fearless when his fears of a supernatu ral presence were' dispelled. He knew that it was not natural for a ghost to cough. The demand for the child had come from a feeble old man. It was no ghost, but only a clergyman, an aged man. Pedro's courage returned, and in a cold voice he in turn de manded: 'Where did you come from, you old fool?" 'No matter where I came from; where is my daughter?" 'How did you get into this house?" ' Where is my child?" ' Your child is all right. You will see her in a few days, when she returns from her wedding-trip. " 12(3 MACON MOOKK, Macon Moore Avas rejoiced that those suggestive and ominous words had not fallen 011 the ears of Leonard Bridges. They sent a thrill of apprehension to the detective's heart. "Who has my child married?" " She is now Mrs. Arteaga." " Villain! you speak falsely, and you know it." Pedro laughed in a jeering manner, when the pretended father stepped to the library table, over which the half-breed was standing. "Fiend! you are but torturing me." "Is it torture for a poor clergyman to know that his daughter lias become the wife of a rich gentleman?" "Yes, it is torture when the foul news is uttered by lips as false as thine." " Look out, old man, you may exhaust my patience." "And if I should?" "I would forget that you are a clergyman and tweak your nose." " What! a miserable son of a slave wring the nose of a gentle man?" Pedro's eyes blazed with a lurid light, and he suddenly reached forth his hands over the table to seize the seeming old man by the throat. He recoiled, however, when the muzzle of a pistol was pressed against his nose. " What! You would shoot!" he cried, starting back and run ning his hand to his pocket as though about to draw a weapon. " Hold on, Pedro; do not attempt to draw or I will fire!" The old man spoke in a firm tone, and Pedro's hand was halted as though stricken with a sudden paralysis. "Now, then, you scoundrel! tell me to what point my child has been carried!" The half-breed, seeing that he was at a disadvantage, changed his game. "I know nothing about your daughter." " Why did you tell me she was a wife?" " I was only fooling you. I know nothing about her." "And I know that you are answering me falsely." Pedro was only playing for time. The fellow felt mortified at thus being held at a disadvantage by a feeble old man. "I will tell you the truth if you Avill lower your pistol." The pretended old man lowered his pistol, when the half-breed suddenly knocked the weapon from his hand and seized hold of him. The two men clinched in an instant, and a most unexpected result followed. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 127 The feeble old man, singularly enough, in a most remarkable manner developed the strength of a giant. Pedro was drawn clear over the table as though he had been but an infant, and as quickly he was thrown to the floor, while the old man planted his knee upon his chest and seized him by the throat. The whole maneuver was executed so deftly and quickly that Pedro did not realize what had happened until he found himself pinned to the floor and helpless in the grasp of his wonderful antagonist. "Now, you tricky scoundrel, I will choke the truth from your throat!" and the iron-like grip was tightened about Pedro's neck until he began to turn black in the face. The man had never been so near death before in his life. It was not that he had been in peril, but this deliberate chok ing of the life out of him filled him with the wildest terrors, and in a gurgling tone he gasped for mercy. The vise-like grip was loosened, and the fellow pleaded for his life. The grit was all taken out of him. He had been the victim of a succession of startling surprises. When he had first discovered that it was not the ghost of the old clergyman, he had looked upon a physical contest with the old man as an easy conquest; but when he was held at the other's mercy his whole idea of the matter changed. " You wish me to spare your life?" The man begged piteously. "And yet but a moment ago you took delight in informing me that my child was given over to a fate worse than death." ' No, no; Arteaga will make her his wife!" ; Will make her his wife?" Yos." When?" ; As soon as he reaches Cuba." ' Then she is not_fet his wife?" 'No." ' They are on their way to Cuba?" ' Yes.'" ' They will await vour return?" ; Yes.'" ' Where?" A hopeless expression came to Pedro's eyes, and he was silent. 128 MACON MOORE, CHAPTER XXXIX. AT HIS MEKCY. The man at the last moment had como to suspect the fatal truth. Ho was not in the hands of the old clergyman, but in the strong grasp of that wonderful man, Macon Moore. To answer the question was to put his master in jeopardy; to refuse to answer was to sacrifice his own life. Now that he had come to realize into whose hands he had fallen, all hope of mercy had fled. "Speak, man, or die!" A certain consideration had frozen Pedro's lips. He feared that after betraying his master he might lose his life all the same. 'If I speak you will kill me?" ' No; if you tell me the truth I will let you go.' ' I have your word?" ' You have my word." 'Remember I betray my master to save my own life!" 'I shall remember that fact," said the detective, as a grim smile played over his face. The half-breed mentioned a hotel in the city of Savannah, where he said Arteaga was to await his return. " You are telling the truth?" " I am." The detective released his hold upon the man's throat, and, after disarming him, permitted him to rise. There was a light in the room, and our hero could plainly watch the workings of the dark features of the man he had re leased. Pedro could not prevent a gleam of cunning triumph showing in his eyes. Alas! Macon Moore was but playing with the fellow as a well- fed eat plays with a mouse. He had released him only to wateh him. and not to let him go. Our hero's keen eyes detected the but half-revealed look of tiiumph, and he said: " Pedro, I've changed my mind." The look of triumph faded from the wretch's eyes and was supplemented by a returning glance of terror. "I have your word!" he exclaimed, in a trembling voice. "My word was binding only on condition that you told me the truth." "I did tell you the truth!" " I know better! Your master is stopping at " THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 129 The detective mentioned a bouse some twenty miles distant that had been under police surveillance for some mouths. The house was under suspicion as being the resort of certain crimi nal characters. Upon the mention of the locality a convulsion passed over Prdro's face. The detective had spoken of the house at random. It had come as a remote suspicion to his mind that there was a possi bility that Arteaga had made a temporary refuge of the place. The convulsion that passed over Ped'ro's face confirmed his suspicion, and hope once more rose in his heart. He realized that he was yet in time to save the girl and return her to her father pure and uninjured as she had been taken from her home. "You have forfeited your life, Pedro!" The half-breed sprang to the table and seized the pistol that our hero laid there when he first had his clinch with Pedro. "It is you who would forfeit your word!" cried the half- breed, and he brought the pistol to a level and held our hero at his mercy. There was no question as to the latter fact. It was at short range, and Pedro was no tyro with a weapon. The great detective had unconsciously fallen into a trap. He was human and not bullet-proof. It was a moment to try our hero's nerve and presence of mind. The least movement would have been an invitation for Pedro to shoot. Macon Moore smiled, and in the most assured tone, said: " Why don't you shoot?" " I have you at my mercy now." " Then why don't you shoot?" repeated the detective. There was "something in the detective's tone that caused the half-breed to hesitate. He saw a grim smile of indifference playing over the detec tive's face. The latter did not look as though he was at the mercy of any man. " Pledge me youV word that I shall go free and I will lower the pistol." The half-breed appeared afraid to fire. He trembled even while holding the advantage in the presence of that wonderful man. " I give no pledges, you fool! That pistol is empty." Pedro dropped bis eyo just one instant to glance at his pistol, and in that instant our hero had drawn his own weapon and it was eye to eye and muzzle to muzzle. The half-breed had lost the game. He was no match for the 'man he was pitted against. Macon Moore repeated his challenge, ' Why don't you shoot?" 130 MACO& MOORE, Pedro made no reply. " Drop jour arm or go down!" said the detective, in a steady voice. The half-breed lowered his pistol. The very presence of Macon Moore was too much for his nerve and courage. Again he was at the inercy of our hero. The latter did not need to ask him any more questions. The fellow's manner had betrayed the truth. The detective advanced and clapped the handcuffs on the prisoner and securely bound him, after having carried him up to the attic, where he made him a captive in the same iron- bound room where Lucy Bridges had been confined. Macon Moore descended the stairs, left the house, and joined the old clergyman. "It was Pedro," he said. " Why did you let the man go?" "I did not let him go"; and the detective related what had oc curred, and disclosed the mystery of the secret room. "You have confined him there?" "I have, and if anything happens to me you must see that in due time the fellow is released, lest he may starve; and wretch as he is, I would not consign him to such a fearful fate!" " Did you learn anything as to the fate of my child?" "Your child is safe, and the chances are that ere daylight I iruiy rescue her." The detective had omitted in his relation that part of the conversation between himself and Pedro concerning the captive girl. A few moments later and Macon Moore was mounted and galloping through the night toward the suspected house where Arteaga and his minions had taken refuge. Of one thing our hero had assured himself, the abductors were not riders; from the account of Mr. Bridges he had come to the conclusion that the fellows were real Spaniards whom Arteaga had employed. The detective well knew the probable desperate character of the men, and was prepared for fierce combat with them. CHAPTER XL. MASTER OP THE FIELD. It was midnight when Macon Moore reached the house. There was a light in one of the lower rooms. The place was an ordinary country house, with broad piazzas front and rear. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 131 After picketing his horse he approached the house. Having removed his boots, and replaced them by moccasins, his tread was stealthy and noiseless. With a cat-like movement he crept along the piazza until he arrived opposite the window opening into the room from whence came the glimmer of a light. There were four men in the room four desperate-looking villains, whose bronzed faces proclaimed them Spaniards or Creoles. They were throwing dice, and as mu^h at home in all their roughness as though in a common bar-room. The detective remembered that the rascals belonged to a very superstitious race, and he determined to take advantage of this infirmity. The terror Pedro had displayed was a sure testimony that the men had believed that they had killed the old clergyman. Our hero resolved to give the rascals a surprise, and as subse quent events proved, it became a night of strauge and startling surprises. The detective considered a moment how he should proceed in his ghost scheme. Having decided upon a plan, he set out to put it in execution. His first move was to provide for a sudden entrance into the house. Fortunately, he understood all the bearings of the place well; in fact, probably better than the men whom he was about to startle by strange appearances. Macon Moore had once "trailed " a party to the same place, and during his "piping" tour about the house, made some sti'ange discoveries. There was a panel entrance into the very room where the men were gathered. The shutters were wide open, and our hero placed himself directly before the window, standing fully revealed in outline to the occupants of the room. He stood" as rigid as thgugh he were a statue. Some moments passed. The men were so intently occupied in their game that their looks were centered upon the table. At length one of them chanced to glance toward the window. A low, startled cry fell from the man's lips, and he called his companion's attention to the apparition. One of the men drew his pistol, took deliberate aim, and fired. The ball crashed through the glass, the smoke cleared away, and there stood the ghost. The men's faces turned pnl<\ They glanced into eadi other's faces, nnd then fixed their startled gaze on the ghost that would not down. -!:>-' MACOX MOOKi:, While still gazing the form faded from their view. A few moments passed, when the fellows mustered sufficient courage to take each a drink from a black bottle standing on the table. Shortly they resumed their game. The fellows were pretty well under the influence of the liquor they had been drinking, and less calculative than they would have been under other circumstances. They had resumed play, and were commenting on their good and bad luck with the accustomed flow of vile curses, when sud denly right in their midst stood the ghastly form of the mur dered clergyman. AYith wild shrieks, the men rushed from the room, right through the window, literally dashing the glass to atoms. The ghost was master of tne field. Macon Moore, or rather the ghost, permitted an amused smile to play over his ghostly countenance as he glided out of the room into the broad hall. The men who had rushed from the room were thoroughly frightened, and kept running until they were far from the house. In the meantime the apparition stood in the hall listening, to discover whether or not the shrieks of the men had attracted the attention of any one else in the building. Silence reigned, and the detective began to fear that he had arrived too late. It did not seem possible to him that there could have been other people in the house, else they would have shown up. Macon Moore, as our readers know, never took anything for granted, and he ascended to the second floor. It was a large double house in which he found himself, with a broad hall running through the center, while doors opened into rooms on either side. The detective was stealing noiselessly along through this broad hall on the second floor, when his keen ears detected the sound of human voices, and a thrill of delight came over him as he recognized that one of the speakers was a female. It was with brightly gleaming eyes and a palpitating heart that our hero halted in front of the door of the room from whence came the sound of voices. A moment he listened, and his heart beat faster, and the bright look in his eyes increased its glare. It was the voice of Lucy Bridges that he heard as he listened with strained ears at the keyhole. At the moment our hero first heard the voices it was the female who was speaking, and immediately afterward he heard a man's voice, and recognized it as Arteaga's. He had struck the right trail, and had run his game to earth. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 133 The detective did not rush right into the room, and, stage- hero-like, throw out his arms and cry, "Come, rescued dear, to this bosom!" on the contrary, like a mouse, he waited at the door all a-quiver and listened. He heard Arteaga say : "I am not a bad man. lama gentleman; chance brought you across my path, and from that moment I have ceased to be master of my own actions. I love you as only a man can love who is of my race." " It is useless for you to plead. I can never listen to your suit. How could I love a man who had slain my father?" "My dear girl, your father is alive and well at this moment; and the moment you are my wife I will take you to his arms." " I will never become your wife." "Ah! yes, you will; I am a man who has never had his will opposed. I am the owner of a thousand slaves on my planta tions in Cuba. I am king, and you shall be my queen." "Never!" "I have all my arrangements made to transport you to my na tive isle, and now the only question is, will you go as my wife, or shall the ceremony be delayed until we reach Cuba?" "I will never go! I am satisfied that Heaven will interfere to rescue me from this fearful peril. " "You are right, my dear girl," was the whispered comment of the detective listening at the door. CHAPTEE XLI. AN EVENTFUL MOMENT. It was evident to the detective, from what he had overheard, that Arteaga had not used violence toward his captive. The Spaniard, from motives of policy, had relied entirely upon persuasion in pressing his uncouth love-suit. While cfur hero still tystened the bronzed lover changed his tactics. . ' You scorn me, Lucy Bridges?" he said. 'I do!" ' Do you know that you are absolutely in my power?" 'No." ' It is as well for you to know that such is the case. " 'I am under the protection of Heaven!" rejoined the girl in an assured tone. " Heaven can't do much in your behalf at the present moment should I resolve to take advantage of your helplessness." "I will still trust that in due season I shall bo delivered out of vour hands." 134 MACON MOORE, " We will not prolong this talk. I demand from you a pro mise to become my wife; refuse, and ere I leave tliis room you shall be ' wedded, but no wife.' " There was a baleful gleam in the Spaniard's eyes while he spoke, proving that his strange words had a sinister meaning. " Never will I promise to become your wife!" "One more refusal will prove your last opportunity!" And as Arteaga spoke he drew a step nearer to the lovely girl, who stood before him with the tear-inarks marring the beauty of her face. "I will refuse till I am dead!" The man advanced still nearer, when the girl exclaimed: " Come not nearer to me or I shall scream for help!" "You may scream, girl, but there is none to come to your help. There is no help for you in heaven or the other place at this moment. You are mine! mine! mine!" As the man repeated the word "mine!" he emphasized each utterance of the word. "I am not yours! I never will be! and I call upon Heaven to save me from your hateful power!" "Call again! Call louder! Heaven is a long way off, yon know!" sneered the Spaniard, as a bitter leer settled upon his dark face. " I have called, and one appeal is enough." "We will see!" exclaimed the Spaniard, and he suddenly leaped forward, and ere Lucy divined his intentions he had seized her in his frenzied embrace. Once more the girl screamed, " Heaven! save me!" The door opened, and Leonard Bridges, the gray-haired father of Arte- aga's victim, entered the room. The Spaniard unwound his arms from the captive and fell back, a lurid light scintillating in his eyes. The wretch at the moment veritably believed that from Heaven itself had come a rescuer. Arteaga had seen the old clergyman beaten and thrown as a dead man over into the ditch, and when he thus strangely and suddenly appeared in the room it was to him like an apparition. Lucy Bridges threw herself into the arms of her father, and with a glad cry commenced kissing his mouth and cheeks. Poor Macon Moore! this display of affection was a contingency in the assumption of his disguise that he had not provided for. It was delightful enough to be thus kissed by such a ravishingly beautiful girl, but he feared the final denouement. A partial denouement caine sooner than the disguised detec tive anticipated. The detective had been so taken by surprise that lie did not respond as a father should have responded under the circum- THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 135 stances to the embraces of a long-lost daughter. The detective simply submitted to be embraced, and did not clasp the fair girl in his arms and joy over her. The sensitive girl discovered this lack in an instant, and would have recoiled from him with an ejaculation upon her lips had not our hero discovered her intention from her startled eyes, and at once he clasped her in his arms, and while pretending to be kissing her, managed to whisper: " On your life do not betray me! I am here to save you from that fiend!" There had been one other party present in that room at that thrillingly eventful moment who had been undeceived. As stated, Arteaga had looked upon the appearance of the old clergyman as a sulphurous visitant from the grave, but when he witnessed the embraces that were exchanged, and heard the re sounding kisses, he knew that the latter were imprinted upon no fleshless cheek. The Spaniard, like Pedro, did not stop to measure the mystery involved in the fact that the clergyman bore no signs of the ter rible beating he had received. He only looked upon the intru ding father as a feeble old man, easily disposed of when worst came to worst. As stated, having recovered from the shock of his first sus picion that the intruder was a ghost, Arteaga was perfectly cool. He did not seek to interrupt the embraces exchanged between father and daughter. Lucy Bridges, although a parson's daughter, was a hot- blooded, high-spirited Southern damsel, and as courageous as the majority of the lovely girls born south of Mason and Dixon's line. She was also keen-witted and ready in perception, and the moment Macon Moore whispered the strangely suggestive words in .her ear she became his ally in aid of her own rescue. She commenced to enfbrace him, and kissed him most filially, and poured from her lovely lips many loving and endearing utterances. For once the iron-nerved detective was over-matched. He trembled like a criminal arrested on a charge of false pretenses. He enjoyed all these endearments coming from such a su premely lovely being, but knew that they were but the hollow flashings of a forced merry-maker. As Arteaga offered no interference, the detective was reluctant to run down the curtain on this little pathetic episode in the ter rible life-drama that he was enacting; on the contrary, he was ready to receive all the endearments that might come along. He was simply charmed while trembling in that fair girl's charming embrace. 136 MACON MOORE, At length, however, it became necessary to proceed with the play, and with the well-assumed air of a stern and indignant parent, the detective unfolded the fair girl's arms from around his neck, and placing her on one side, fixed his flashing eyes on the Spaniard, and demanded : "Villain! how is it I find my child here in your power?" "Old man, I love your daughter; my act has been a simple elopement." " Tis false! My child would never have eloped with such a bronze-faced half as you!" " Be careful, old man; I am not here* to listen to insults!" " But I am here to secure my child from your custody!" CHAPTEE XLII. THROWING OFF THE DISG1JESJE. "Don't say or attempt anything rash, old man," said Arteaga. "You villain! you shall pay the penalty of this outrage!" " Listen to me; I have a proposition to make." "I do not wish to listen to any proposition." "But you must!" " No, no, father! Do not let us remain here a moment." "We will not, my child. Come," returned the pretended father. " Rev. Leonard Bridges, you came into my house voluntarily, did you not?" exclaimed the Spaniard. "I did." " I did not invite you here." " I needed no invitation. I knew that my child was a captive in this house, and I rushed in to bear her from your grasp." " You had no difficulty in entering?" " None whatever. " "Well, you will have a little trouble in getting out iinlessyou receive my consent." "You dare not restrain me from leaving this house." "I dared to steal your daughter, did I not?" "Yes, you did. and you shall pay the penalty." " If I dared to steal her, I reckon I will dare to keep her, and I will unless you listen to a proposition I have to make." "Suppose I listen to your proposition?" "Possibly, though you may reject it, I might still consent to your safe conduct from the house." " I will listen to yonr proposition." " I love your daughter." "And if she is a true child of her father she detests you!" THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 137 "I do, father!" ejaculated Lucy. Arteaga paid no attention to the interruptions, but continuing, said: "I am a rich man a wondrously rich man!" " Villain! every word you utter is an insult to a gentleman!" " I will settle live hundred thousand dollars on your daughter to own in her own right the moment she promises to become my wife a promise is sufficient." " Scoundrel! I spit on you and your offer." "You do?" "I do." Arteaga's face became livid with rage and fury as he exclaimed : " Then you shall only leave this house a corpse, and your daughter shall remain, and not to be my wife. " The pretended father laughed and said to Lucy: " Come, child, it is time for us to go!" Arteaga drew a bowie-knife, and, leaping across the room, in tercepted the pair at the door. " Behold, old man, you are at my mercy!" An instant later the muzzle of a pistol covered Arteaga's heart, and a stern voice exclaimed : " Drop that knife, assassin!" Arteaga was too greatly amazed to comprehend at that moment the change that had come over the aspect of affairs. He had not looked for such a thing as the display of a pistol in the hands of the minister. He had measured the old man as a half-crazed old parent, who would not know enough to guard against roguery by any precautions. At length, as his eye settled on the gleaming barrel of the well- aimed pistol, and as he also noted the steady gleam in the eye of the holder of that weapon, he began to realize that he had a stronger game to play than he had anticipated. He took the matter coolly, however. He was a man of nerve under some circumstances, and instead of dropping his knife, laughed in a pleasant manner. "Drop that knife!" again came the command. "Why, you old lunatic, one stamp of my foot will bring a dozen men into this room." " Not men assassins!" commented the pretended minister. " Well, assassins!" "And yon think you have me at a disadvantage?" Aerain Artonga laughed as he said, in a pleasant tone: "Yon had butter listen to my original proposition." "I will shoot you dead in your tracks first." " You know what tlio alternative is accept, or never leave this house alive." said Arteaga. "It is your life that is in peril, not mine." 138 MACON MOORE. " I tell you one stamp of my foot will bring a dozen assassins into this room." "And one pull of my hand will change Leonard Bridys into MU-OII Moo/-!,' !'' responded our hero, and, suiting the action to the word, he removed his wig and stood revealed as the wom.b'rful detective. The knife fell from the palsied grasp of Arteaga. That dreaded name was a greater terror to him than would have been the muzzles of a dozen pistols aimed at his heart in the hands of as many ordinary men. It had been a sort of personal pride that had caused our hero to unmask. The first time his eyes had fallen upon Lucy Bridges strange emotions had been stirred, and during the weeks that the girl had been missing her lovely form had been ever present before his charmed imagination. Again, upon beholding her, all these strange emotions were revived, and the pressure of her warm, lovely lips upon his cheek had sent a thrill through him that would agitate him the remain der of his days. He knew not what accident might occur, and he desired to en joy surely the one triumph, though it might be brief, of having her know who the faithful man was who had trailed down her enemy to effect her rescue. There was a mirror in the room, and the lovely face of the fair Lucy was reflected in the glass at the moment our hero un masked. The latter saw the change that came over the beautiful girl's face. He noted the tinge that came to her cheek, the brightness to her eyes, and expression of triumph to the whole face upon hearing the name of her champion. The faithful glass into which our hero had glanced revealed the above signs. A new hope arose in Macon Moore's heart, and he had a mo tive now to rescue the girl that would lead him to iace death a thousand times in her behalf. CHAPTER XLIH ANOTHER VICTORY FOB THE DETECTIVE. As stated, at the mention of the name Macon Moore, the knife fell from the nerveless grasp of Artoaga. "Now, dog! stamp your foot if you dare, and you sign your own death-warrant!" snid our hero. The Spaniard gazed with leaden stare at the man who ap peared as his Nemesis. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. . 13D There was no human presence on earth that the Spaniard feared as he did the detective, the ever-present scourge who al ways appeared to be on hand just in time when villainy was to be foiled. It is hard to tell what might have been the result, as matters stood, had not a singular incident occurred opportunely to open a series of startling events. The four Spaniards, who had been frightened from the house by the supposed appearance of the ghost, had run only a short distance when they came to a halt and held a few mo ments' consultation. As their minds became familiarized with the idea of the pre sence they had seen their courage returned. One of them remarked, with a curse: "We've been fooled!" Another of the party expressed the same idea, and, after a moment the four men returned toward the house. They advanced very cautiously, and kept casting furtive glances around in every direction, and had the disguised detective ap peared again at that moment they would have fled once more lu wild dismay. Arrived at the house, one of their number, bolder than his companions, ascended the steps of the porch and advanced to ward the window of the room they had occupied at the moment when the apparition first presented itself. The fellow glanced into the room, and seeing nothing, mus tered sufficient courage to raise the remains of the shattered sash and enter. He evidently felt pretty shaky, but seeing no thing, returned to the window and beckoned to his companions to enter. All hands were once more in the room, and helped themselves to a good.-drink out of ttye bottle, when one of them said: 4 'We ought to tell Signer Arteaga what it was we saw." A second man remarked : " He may curse us as fools for running away." The first man again remarked : "That is just the reason we ought to notify him. It may not have been a ghost, and we need not own up that we ran away, but we will claim we ran after the ghost." After a number of opinions pro and con. it was decided to go up to Arteaga's room and tell him as to what they had seen. The fellows took one more drink, and started in a body up the stairs. We stated in a former paragraph that a singular interruption had occurred to disturb the tableau that was presented in the room. Arteaga stood leaning with his back against the door leading 140 MACON MOORE, from the room. The man was a picture of terror, while over against him stood the detective with the leveled revolver. Mac-oil Moore had said, "Step aside from that door!" and Arteaga had stood gazing at him, seemingly so paralyzed a.s to be unable to obey. It was at this moment that the singular incident alluded to occurred. The door suddenly opened, and Arteaga fell back ward into the arms of the four men who hail come stealthily up the stairs to apprise him as to what they had seen. The door opened outward, and thus the singular denouement. A more startling tableau was presented than before. An instant the party stood and gazed at each other aghast. Macon Moore was the tirst to recover his head. Turning to Lucy, he whispered a few hurried words in her ear. The ready-witted girl was quick to understand and obey. She had been standing just behind our hero and in range of any pistol-shots that might be sent through the door. That there was to be a scrimmage the detective felt assured, and he was a man who knew how to take advantage of every situation. The moment Arteaga found himself backward in the arms of his minions, he crawled out of range, and then shouted: "Kill him! kuii'e him! A thousand doubloons when he's dead!" The words had just left the Spaniard's mouth when the detec tive blazed away. Bang! bang! spoke his revolver. Our hero had the inside track in the opening of the scrim mage, from the fact that he had his pistol at an aim at the mo ment Arteaga had fallen through the door. The Spaniards were compelled to draw, and by the time their weapons were out one of their number had dropped, and was ready to play ghost some day, and a second had screamed in agony as a ball pierced his arm. Arteaga had not remained to command his men. At the sound of the first discharge he had shot down the stairs far out of range. Bang! bang! came an answering shot. The Spaniards had been in the maze of a surprise from the start and fired at random, while the cool-headed detective had fired with deadly aim and effect. Another man Ml dead, and the last of the four ran away to look for Artoaga to get fresh orders. By his daring promptness and skill as a marksman the detec tive had won a quick victory. Turning to Lucy, he said: "My dear girl, now is our opportunity." "My father?" asked Lucy. THE SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 141 "Your father is alive and well." "When did you see him last?" "Since sundown." The girl had not as yet seen the effect of our hero's shots. She had stepped out of range and had heard the shots and seen puff's of smoke. She had often heard pistol-shots before, but had never been brought face to face with the dead struck down without a mo ment's warning. "Courage, my dear girl," said our hero, as he drew her toward the door of the room. Macon Moore knew the advantage of an immediate departure, but an unexpected incident caused a fatal delay. As Lucy came to the open door her eyes fell upon the dis torted and ghastly faces of the two Spaniards who had fallen dead. The sight was too much for the tender-hearted girl, and she fainted away in our hero's arms. CHAPTEE XLIV. THE SECEET PASSAGE. Macon Moore was not a profane man, but in the excitement of the moment an exclamation akin to an oath fell from his lips. Time to him was precious. His own life, and more than that the life of Lucy depended upon his getting out of that house. At any moment some of the riders might reach there. It was a rendezvous, and it was midnight, the hour when ghosts and goblins forsake their graves, and thieves and assassins their sun light haunts. Our hei-o was compelled to decide upon his course quickly. The question was, should he stop to revive the lovely girl rest ing insensible in his arms, or should he risk her voluntary re vival and dash with her from the house? He decided upon, tire latter course, and stepping over the dead bodies of the Spaniards, passed along the hall and started to de scend the stairs, when peril in the most appalling form was pre sented. The riders had come; a dozen armed men were crowding into the lower hall, and retreat was cut off. The detective moved back from the stairs, when a new peril was encountered. Volumes of smoke were issuing from the room where the tragedy described above had transpired. The house was on fire. One of the Spaniards had used an old-fashioned, large-bore, muzzle-loading pistol, and a burning " wad " had lodged in some inflammable material in the room. The detective for once stood appalled. 142 MACON MOORE, It was the first time in all his life that hope all hope abso lutely deserted him. Had he been alone he would not have despaired. He could have leaped upon the porch, and taken his chances of a running combat with his foes. Never before had Macon Moore stood irresolute in the pre sence of peril. He rushed to the door of the room, still carrying the insensi ble girl in his arms. There was no need for him to attempt to stay the fire. The room was all ablaze, and the hall was fast filling with smoke. The detective was compelled to open the door of a room on the same floor, where the smoke had not penetrated. It was be coming so dense in the hall that in a few minutes he would have been suffocated. He dashed into the room and closed the door behind him. At the same instant he heard a great noise in the hall. The riders had attempted to ascend the stairs, but had been driven back by the smoke. The cry of "Fire!" had been raised. Macon Moore knew that he would enjoy but a few moments' respite. The smoke had not yet penetrated the room where he had sought refuge, but the house was old, would burn like tinder, ami soon the whole fabric would be a blazing mass. Under circumstances as above, a world of terrible incidents are possible of occurrence within a few moments of time. Lucy had shown signs of revival. Our hero rushed to a water- pitc-her in the room and bathed her brow. Her eyes opened and her lips parted, and there came the inquiry: " What has happened?" Before .the detective answered, there came a fearful shriek. The detective recognized the voice of Artea