the stranger turned in no little surprise at being accosted by the young man.

“did you speak to me, stranger?” he asked.

“yes,” answered murdock; “i should like to have a few minutes’ conversation with you if it is agreeable.”

the stranger shot a rapid glance at the face of the young man, but he saw nothing therein to alarm him.

“certainly,” he replied, after thinking for a moment.

“this is my shanty,” said murdock, referring to the log-house before whose door they stood. “come in; we can talk inside without being overheard.”

there was a strange expression upon the face of the other. he cast a rapid glance around him, and laid his hand upon the handle of the hunting-knife at his girdle, as if he had half a mind to stab the young man—who was fumbling with the rude fastenings of the door—and then make a bold break for freedom and the woods. but the momentary glance around convinced him—that is, if he had such an idea—that to carry it out would be hopeless, for a dozen or more of the settlers were between him and the forest. so, with a muttered curse upon his ill luck, he followed murdock into the cabin.

murdock produced a flask of whisky and a couple of tin cups, and motioning his rather unwilling guest to draw near the table, he pledged him with the fragrant corn-juice.

the stranger tossed off the fiery liquor with a moody brow. he suspected that he was in a trap, and he felt far from being easy.

“do you know that your face is strangely familiar to me?” asked murdock, with a meaning smile.

“indeed! that is strange,” responded the other, half inclined to spring upon the young man, for he felt a strong apprehension that his disguise was penetrated.

“i think we have met before,” said murdock, with another look full of meaning.

“i don’t remember ever meeting you,” replied the stranger, who now almost repented that he hadn’t made a bold dash for freedom when at the door.

“i feel sure that we have met,” said murdock. “how may i call your name?”

“james benton,” replied the other.

“from virginia?”

“yes.”

“well, i have never met a mr. benton,” said murdock.

“i was sure that you were in error when you said that you knew me,” said the stranger, with an air of relief.

“not as benton, but under another name, i have met you.”

“ah!” the hand of the stranger sought the handle of his knife. the movement was not unnoticed by the keen eye of murdock.

“don’t be alarmed; i mean you no harm,” he said, quickly. “if i had wished to denounce you, there wouldn’t have been any need of bringing you into my house. all that would be necessary would be to speak your name in the middle of this station. why, the very sticks themselves that form the stockade would rise out of the ground to seize you, to say nothing of the men.”

“for whom do you take me?” asked the stranger, in a hoarse voice.

“for the man for whose body, dead or alive, the settlers on the border would give more than they would for any other man that walks upon earth, be his skin white or red,” replied murdock.

the stranger glanced at him with sullen eyes.

“be assured, however,” continued the young man, “that i mean you no harm. on the contrary, i need your aid, and i’m willing to pay you well for it. come, is it a bargain?”

“you know my name?” said the stranger, slowly, without replying to the question.

“yes, you are—” and murdock, bending over, whispered a name in the ear of the stranger. “am i right?” he asked.

“yes,” said the stranger, sullenly. “but i cannot understand how you penetrated my disguise.”

“particularly when it deceived boone and a half-score of your deadly foes, who would be almost willing to give ten years of their lives to draw a bead on you at fair rifle range.”

“that is possible,” replied the other; “but the bullet is not yet run that will take my life.”

“if i were to call out your name from that door, a long rope and a short shrift would save the bullet the trouble,” said murdock.

the stranger winced at the words.

“don’t be alarmed; i don’t mean to betray you,” continued murdock. “it was an astonishing thing that i alone should penetrate your disguise and guess who you were. i never saw you but once before, either, and that was years ago. but now to business. as i said before, i need your aid, and i am willing to pay you well for it.”

“what is it you want me to do?”

“there’s a girl in the settlement that has rejected my advances. i don’t care so much for her, but she’s the heiress to a large fortune. now, if the girl marries me, of course i get the fortune, or if she dies, i get the fortune, for i am the next heir. now, i don’t want to take the life of the girl if i can help it. i had much rather marry her; but, unfortunately, she has taken a fancy to some one else, and won’t listen to my suit. now, my plan is to carry the girl off. i know a lonely cabin, now deserted, some ten miles from the station, on the other bank of the kanawha. i want the girl carried there, and the impression given to her that she is a prisoner in the hands of the indians. then i’ll pretend to follow on the trail—gain access to the cabin; offer to assist her to escape, if in reward she’ll marry me. of course she’ll feel grateful for the risk i run for her sake, and consent. then i’ll escape with her, take her back to the settlement, and the thing is done.”

“but suppose she refuses to marry you?”

“then she won’t escape from the hands of the red-skins, but they’ll kill her,” said murdock, coolly.

“and in that case, you’ll come in for the property?”

“exactly.”

“the plan ought to work,” said benton, thoughtfully.

“i don’t see how it can fail. i want your assistance, and i’ve got a fellow in the station that will help me. you two will be enough to play indian. it won’t be much trouble and very little risk, and i’ll pay well for it.”

“when do you want it done?” asked the stranger.

“the sooner the better,” replied murdock. “i suppose that will suit you.”

“yes, for i’ll soon have other fish to fry along the border,” said the other, and a demon light gleamed from his fierce eyes.

“do you expect to drive the whites from the ohio?” asked murdock.

“no, but i’ll raise such a blaze along the river, and strike such a blow that it shall be felt, even to virginia!” cried the other, in a tone of fierce menace.

“it will be a bloody time,” said murdock, thoughtfully.

“yes, blood will run like water,” replied the stranger. “but what is the name of the girl that is to be carried off?”

“virginia treveling.”

the stranger started as though he had trodden upon a snake.

“what, the daughter of general treveling?” he cried.

“yes,” replied murdock, wondering at the look of fierce delight that swept over the face of the other.

“satan’s fires!” cried the other, in triumph. “i’ll do the job for you. i owe the father a bitter grudge. i struck him one blow, some twelve years ago, just after he wronged me. i doubt if he’s forgotten or forgiven it to this day. it’s about time for me to strike him another.”

“why, how did general treveling ever wrong you?” asked murdock, in wonder.

“i was a scout under him in dunmore’s campaign. one day he told me openly, and before a dozen others, that i lied. i gave the lie back in his teeth, for i never took insult from mortal man. then he struck me. i didn’t think even for a moment that he was my superior officer; all that i knew was that i was struck—degraded by a blow. i measured him with my eye and felled him to my feet with a single stroke. then i was seized—tried by a drumhead court-martial, and sentenced to be publicly whipped in presence of the whole army, and i was whipped, too. as the lashes fell upon my naked back, and cut long, quivering lines in the yielding flesh, with every lash i swore a bitter oath of vengeance. then, my punishment done—a whipped, degraded slave, a man no longer—they untied me. i sunk down at their feet almost helpless. they raised me up; i was covered with my own gore. this general treveling—then only a colonel—looked on me, his victim, with a scornful smile—ten thousand curses on him! i was maddened with rage. i shook my fist defiantly in his face, and before all i said: ‘your quarters shall swim in blood for this!’ i kept my word. i have shed white blood enough along the ohio for me to swim in. my vengeance, too, against this man was fearful. i stole his eldest child—left it to die in the forest. i tore his heart as his lashes had torn my back. and now, i strike him a second time.”

murdock gazed at the rage-inflamed countenance of the dark-skinned man with a feeling akin to awe.

“it is a bargain, then, between us?” the young man said.

“yes; to get another chance at him, i’d go through the fires of hades!” the other replied.

and so the compact was made.