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Ferdinand, in escaping from the hands of the banditti, it was now seen, had fallen into the power of his father. He had been since confined in an apartment of the castle, and was now liberated to obey the summons. The countenance of the marquis exhibited a ghastly image; Ferdinand, when he drew near the bed, suddenly shrunk back, overcome with horror. The marquis now beckoned his attendants to quit the room, and they were preparing to obey, when a violent noise was heard from without; almost in the same instant the door of the apartment was thrown open, and the servant, who had been sent for the marchioness, rushed in. His look alone declared the horror of his mind, for words he had none to utter. He stared wildly, and pointed to the gallery he had quitted. Ferdinand, seized with new terror, rushed the way he pointed to the apartment of the marchioness. A spectacle of horror presented itself. Maria lay on a couch lifeless, and bathed in blood. A poignard, the instrument of her destruction, was on the floor; and it appeared from a letter which was found on the couch beside her, that she had died by her own hand. The paper contained these words:,

“No use. He just rouse camp. Everything mixed up. Got better plan.”,

“Are there many ships in sight?”,

The man looked at the boy sharply but made no reply. From his manner Bob was sure that Mr. Taylor knew but did not wish to confess his knowledge. Figuring that his silence was equal to an assent, Bob went on:

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“Thanks, Jerry,” Whitney said seriously. Bob happened to look around and missed Feather-in-the-Wind from the group.,

Johnny’s face was swollen with crying, and the tears had made streaks down his dirty cheeks.,

Bob—that was the horse’s name—knew Johnny whenever he went into the stable; there was no doubt about that, for the little horse would turn around in his stall and whinny at the sound of the boy’s step or voice. Of course Johnny always had sugar for him and brushed his pretty coat for him every day—dear, cunning little Bob!,

The proprietor of the store, who was also their host, directed them to a man he thought might have one. The latter, a rancher in a small way, was rather dubious as to the boat’s being in a condition to navigate. “It’s down by the river,” he said. “Been down there pretty nigh a year, too, ef somebody hain’t swiped it. Take ye down to look at it in the mornin’. Ef you’re aimin’ to commit suicide tryin’ to get through the Labyrinth, it ought to be jest the thing for you. ’Twas built by a party what aimed to try the stunt but got cold feet before they tackled it. They give it to me, so ef you’re willin’ to pay about ten dollars, you’re welcome to it.”