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[F*>r The Sunny South.] I PROMISED SOT TO TELL. (An Idyl of Savannah.) BY HENRY C. MAKER. J tell you, Mag, we made a (lash— That eve in Forsyth Place— For Fred bad on his blonde mustache, And I my polonaise. We sat back from the wicket gate, Near by the cypress vine; I feared papa would think it late. For the stars began to shine, Oh, the little words he L#id io me Still make my bosom swell; But I must hush. Mag, for you see I promised not to tell. He said the night was very tine,— Of course I thought so, too; He drew me closer to the vine— Just to keep me from the dew. He said the flowers were very sweet; Then he sang a little song. While I kept time upon my feet,— Now, please don’t say ‘twas wrong. For oh, the song he sauj to me Still makes my bosom swell; But I must hush. Mag, for you see I promised not to tell. He stopped amidst the little tune, And silence reigned a while; He spoke about the last of June,— I said “Yes,” with a smile. And now my dear, confiding girl, Don't say it was amiss,— He put aside a strolling curl, And pinned it with a kiss. And oh* that kiss came with such force. It made my bosom swell; But. woman-like, you know of course I promised not to tell! [Written for The Sunny South.] • Callie Carson’s Lovers; OR, FLAT-BOAT, RIVER AM) RIFLE. CHAPTER I. It was a little hamlet— half a dozen cabins— on the Ohio river, up among the rugged hills of | , Pennsylvania. A few flat-boats crept along the river, and the hardy pioneft- had cut into the wilderness here and there and built him a home. Pittsburg and Cincinnati were but good-sized villages, hardly known of each other, and the crafty savage tribes were strong and powerful all along the mighty river. The rolling wave of civilization had struck the great Western forest and fallen back, discouraged by the hardships of pioneer life. Beyond the river, little or noth ing was known of the country, and the Indians outnumbered the whites twenty to one. The rugged, grizzly Abe Carson, hunter, trap per and explorer, had erected the first cabin, and so the hamlet was called “Carson's Land ing.” Five of the cabins were built on the side- hill, and overlooked the river up and down, while Carson's was nearer the water and almost cut ofl' from the rest. The settlement was not four years old. The pi oneers had been besieged by Indians, welcomed peace, set their traps along the river, hunted in the forest, and made occasional trips down the stream to dispose of their products. There was another small settlement a few miles above, a cabin or two in the next bend of the river, and about once a week a flat-boat from Pittsburg touched at the Landing and gave the pioneers news of the outside world. It was June, and the grand old forest looked glorious in its summer dress of green. The wild flowers blossomed on the side-hill, and the smoke from the stout and tidy cabins lazily floated sky ward and moved slowly over the trackless wil derness. The river was clear of everything ex cept an occasional log which had rolled from the bank to be stianded in some bend below or left on an island, and the forest was so still that the cry of an eagle in the clouds above the ham let was plainly heard. Half a dozen children were tossing dead limbs and stones into the river from the high bank above Carson's cabin, and in one of the huts on the hill a woman was singing an old love-ballad with such strong voice that the words floated into every cabin, and were lost in the forest beyond the clearing. No painter could have drawn a more perfect picture of peace and contentment. The door of old Carson's cabin was ajar, and one of the children, peering in. saw the trapper's daughter busy with her needle. The cabin had but little lurniture. but it was the tidiest one of the six. and one had but to glance in to see that it was presided over by one whose life among the wolves and savages had not destroyed natu ral good taste and scrupulous cleanliness. “ Callie ! Callie !” called one of the children, as she rocked to and fro in the old-fashioned chair, “someone’s coming!” The six men belonging to the Landing were all in the woods, and Callie wondered if some explorer had not turned his canoe from the cur rent to pay them a visit. As she stood in the cabin door, her short chestnut curls catching the sun. and her red cheeks and hazel eyes turned to the children, a low exclamation of admiration and a light step caught her ear. Turning quickly, she found herself face to face ■ with a young man of three-and-twenty. attired jin hunter's garb and having a rifle in his hand. despe'ration, and the renegade’s heart was full of bitter fur)-. As they looked into each other's eyes, they read the fact that one must die. The scout threw the gun aside as he wrenched it away, and both drew the long, keen hunting- knives which were to be found in every pio neer’s belt, when a long hand-to-hand reneoun- tre ensued, in which the renegade received such a fearful slash across the arm that he dropped his knife, staggered back, and uttered a horrible yell as he tripped and fell to the ground. Will was upon him in an instant, and the heavy knife was raised to strike, when some swift thought held it there. “You deserve death !” he said, as he looked into the renegade’s frightened face, but I cannot strike a wounded, defenseless man." Laskins begged for mercy, and picking up the fellow’s knife and hurling it through the leaves, Will said: “I will not take your life now. but I warn you that any of the men at the Landing will shoot yon on sight after to-day.” He picked up both rifl,es, and without another look at the cowardly assassin, made his way to the river bank, found the canoe which the rene gade had used, and soon set himself across the river. “Curse him !—curse his very shadow!” mut tered Laskins, as the scout walked away. He was badly cut and bleeding very freely, and reaching his feet, he struck into the forest and hurried along at a fast pace. A walk of half an hour brought him to a large Indian village, and a shout collected half a hundred red-skins around hfcn. “See there, brothers!” cried Laskins, as he held up his bleeding arm; “that is the work of a white man—onb who hates and defies the red men!” The Indians crowded nearer and became ex cited. “The whitfi men have commenced war!” con tinued Laskins. “They have dug up the hatchet, and they shout for blood. Will the red man skulk away, or will he tight?” There was a wild, fierce yell in answer. It was a powder-magazine, needing but a spark to carry desolation for three hundred miles up and down the tranquil river. “ We will give them war if they want it!” con tinued the renegade; “the red man will not run away from the noise of rifles !” j Talking in that strain, he had- the entire vil- : luge so excited that some of the men ran alter ktlieir wajr-^ftint. and others fJanoaJ "b-v “ Heavens ! but I never saw a more beautiful picture!” he exclaimed, as he reached out his hand. She extended hers very reluctantly, and the change in her countenance told him that he was an unwelcome visitor. She retreated into the cabin, and without waiting for an invitation, he followed her. “Am I not welcome here, Callie?” he asked, as she sat down and resumed her sewing with out even another look at him. “It is my father’s boast that his cabin is open to every one,” she answered after a time. He stood for a moment, his face clouded and his eyes having a threatening look, and then he placed his rifle in the corner, drew a chair close to her and sat down. She kept her eyes on her work, and it was two or three minutes before a word was spoken. Then he asked: “Callie. why do yon treat me so coldly?” “ You know well enough, Rovce Laskins!” she exclaimed, raising her eyes to his and her cheeks growing more crimson. “I was here a month ago, and I asked you to become my wife,” he said. “And when I told yon I could not, you in dulged in threats.” "Of which I repented as soon as uttered. I have been ashamed and miserable, and I came to ask forgiveness.” •• I will forgive you if you will stay away,” she replied after a pause. “ Yon have no friends here, and it is better that yon avoid the place.” He choked down the words he was about to utter, and said: i “ Callie Carson. I love you as deeply and truly as any man ever loved a woman, and I cannot stay away without being made wretched.” There was something in his hopeless tones which softened her heart a little, and she replied: "I am sorry, but I never encouraged yon. and nothing you could do or say would make me re turn your love. You are free to go where you will, and yon can find some one who will think better of yon than I can.” “But won’t you try to love me?" he pleaded. _ “Royce Laskins, yon know that I am the promised wife of another, and your cause is hopeless. I hope ” "Yes, I know you are. curse him !” he inter rupted, betraying the anger which had been struggling to escape. “You can go!” she said, rising up. “I can hold no further conversation with you.” “I won’t go until I have spoken my mind !” he exclaimed, his eyes blazing with anger. “Do you prefer Will Ross to me ?” “I do,” she promptly answered. “And yon will marrv him?” “ I will.” “Hear me, girl!” he said in a voice hoarse with passion. “Will Ross shall never call you his wife—never! I will kill him before he is a week older!” "I have heard that you were a coward and a renegade.” she answered in a steady voice. "An 1 as for yon,” he continued, “I will make you love me. and I will make yon my wife, and there are not enough men along the Ohio to pre vent.” “Go!” she said, pointing to the open door. “Beware of me!” he muttered, glaring down upon her. “ I may carry out my plans before you think.” “The forest will not be dark enough to hide you when my father hears of your conduct,” she answered, still pointing to the door. A new light came to his eyes, and he stalked across the cabin to the single window and looked out. His canoe was on the bank—the men were away; why not take her then ? The girl read his thoughts, and flitting across the room, she seized his rifle and drew it up to her shoulder just as he turned around. The muzzle was within ten feet of his head, and his face paled as he saw how her eyes flashed. “Put down the gun !” he said, scowling at her fiercely. “Leave the cabin or I will shoot you!” she answered. The rifle was at full cock; her finger pressed the trigger, and she had him in her power. He hesitated an instant, and then moved toward the door, saying: “ My revenge will be all the sweeter for this.” He halted in the door and looked back, and she said: “ Move along to your canoe!” He passed down the bank and she followed him, ready to fire. The children ran out of his path, amazed and frightened, but none of the women above noticed what was occurring. “ Give me my rifle,” he said, as he seated him self in his canoe and took up the paddle. A little stream of water, coming from a spring on the hill, ran past her feet, and bending down she submerged the rifle, rendering it tempora rily useless, and then tossed it down to him. “Remember my warning!” he said, as the canoe left the bank. “I’ll put Will Ross out of the way and make you my wTftfT” She stood there and watched him paddle the light craft across to the Ohio shore, and she was there when he drew the canoe upon the bank, waved his hand, and was hidden in the deep forest. CHAPTER II. Callie Carson had spoken truly when she told Royce Laskins that he had not a friend in the settlement. The men had returned his nod of recognition, but they had maintained a dignity and reserve which he could not pass and reach their big hearts. When he had appeared first at the Landing, a year before, rumors had followed him. It was said that he lived among the Indians, a renegade from civilization, and that his rifle had betn turned against white men and his hand lifted against women and children. No one knew these statements to be true, or he would have been banished from the settle ment. As it was. his right to go and come was ; not questioned, but he could make no friends there. Callie’s beauty alone attracted him to the Landing, and he had concealed his real nature and sought to win her love. Old Carson had suffered him to visit the cabin because he knew that Laskins was treated as a visitor, and not as a lover. When the renegade made a decla ration of love, understood that Callie did not return the feeling, and had uttered threats against her and others, the men had said they would fix him if he ever came to the hamlet again. Taking advantage of their absence, he had returned to press his suit and to utter new threats, as the reader was infornled in the pre vious chapter. Will Ross had not yet seen twenty-five sum mers, and a better-looking, more athletic young man could not be found along the river. He was the keenest hunter, the best trapper, and the most daring scout, and during Indian hos tilities, his rifle and knife had made his name : and deeds famous among the savages. He had built one of the cabins on the side-hill and oc cupied it with his aged mother, and Abe Carson could not have found a son-in-law more to his liking. A week previous to the renegade's visit. Will had departed from the Landing to explore the wilderness to the southwest. For two or three ! months past the Indians had been unsettled and uneasy, as if contemplating some new and im- ■ portant movement, and part of the scout’s errand was to discover the cause of this feeling. There j had been times when the hamlet was crowded with Indians who came to buy and barter, but ! of late they had kept clear of the settlement, and when encountered on the. river or in the forest, were sullen and uncommunicative. It was feared by the pioneers that another outbreak would soon occur, and there had been talk of abandoning the Landing and making new homes further down the river and nearer some strong out-post or block-house. ■ On the day that the brave girl drove the rene gade out of her father’s cabin and across the river, Will Ross was returning from his scout, and was within a few miles of home. He had found the red men morose and sullen, and his , mind was made up that another war was to be precipitated on the settlements. Civilization had pushed the Indian back until he had become ( alarmed and desperate, and he was going to try I and recover his lost ground. The Landing would have to be abandoned, and Will felt that the people could not remove too soon. An hour after noon he was approach ing the river, almost fearing that he would look ! across tajtind smoking logs where cosy cabins had stood a week before, when his cap was 1 dashed from his head, and there was a smarting, stinging sensation along his scalp, as if a hot iron had burned the flesh. • Almost knocked down by the shock, he whirled around and caught at a sapling just as the sharp crack of a rifle reached his ear. “White!” he exclaimed, as he sprang for a tree. Some person had attempted to murder him, and that person was a white man. The shot had been fired from a thicket not a great distance away, and Will was so confused and amazed for a time that he knew not what to do. He had only one enemy that he could name Royce Las kins, and it did not seem possible that the rene gade would have the boldness to attenjpt mur der so near the settlement. Beside, none of the pioneers had seen him for a full month, and it was generally believed that he had left the neigh borhood. The smoke of the rifle floated among the branches, and the forest was as silent as a grave, except now and then as a bird uttered a note of alarm and flew to a safer spot. Will cautiously peered from behind his tree, but could see no sign of a human being. The minutes dragged away, and he finally decided that the unknown and unseen foe had fired the shot and crept away, and the scout stepped out from behind the tree. He was hardly clear of it, when a voice which he instantly recognized as Laskins’ called out, and the renegade rose up from the thicket and came forward. His appearance amazed Will, connected as it was with the attempt to commit murler, and he stood there with lowered rifle, and let Laskins approach. When quite near, the fellow drew tip his rifle like a flash and fired. The bullet singed across Will's cheek, and he could not raise his rifle before the renegade was upon him and struggling to secure the weapon. “It is you, then!” exclaimed Will, as they swayed this way and that in the fight for the prize. “ Yes, and I’m going to murder you!” an swered Laskins. The advantage which surprise gave Laskins was lost after a moment, but as the gun was wrenched from his grasp it exploded and was useless to either except as a club. The attempt to murder him roused Will to CHAPTER IH. When the men at the landing heard how Royce Laskins’ real nature had been uncovered, they swore to kill him wherever they might find him. They blamed Will that he had not put the serpent beyond power to do them further injury, but he felt better for having spared and warned the wretch. But there were matters for graver considera tions. It behooved the pioneers to leave the Landing while yet there was time to escape. Will’s news made their hearts heavy and anx ious. and was fully confirmed by the crew of a flat-boat coming down the river next day. They had been fired on from the banks, and during the past few days had discovered that Indian villages along the river were being moved. The men advised old Carson to jose no time in get ting away, predicting a general outbreak of hos tilities within a week. At a trading-post fifty miles above, known as “WolfBend," a flat-boat was tied to the bank: and it was believed that the old trader would sell it. Carson reasoned that there was no safety nearer than Cincinnati or Pittsburg, and it was far easier to float down than to pole one of the lumbering crafts against the strong cur- •; rent. On the evening of the second day after Will’s return, it was decided that old Carson should take three of the six men and set out for the post above, hoping to secure the boat. They could travel the distance in less than two days, and if »they got the boat, they could hurry it along, so that the round trip would not occupy over four days. Selecting Will and two others, and warn ing and instructing those who w r ere to remain ! behind, the old man set out just at dark, think ing thereby to elude the observation of any one who might be spying around the clearing. The peace which the pioneers had enjoyed for many months was broken and destroyed. The happy laughter of the children and the glad songs' of the matrons were replaced by whispered words and pale faces. No one knew at what : hour the savages would be turned loose against them, and when the party had left on their up river errand, all the rest gathered together in the largest and stoutest cabin to pass the night. When night fully set in, the men took turns at watching, and a deep, solemn silence fell upon the clearing. The long hours of night dragged away with out an alarm, and when daylight came, all hearts felt braver. One of the men scouted around the clearing without discovering any ev idences that the Indians had been prowling around during the night, and the other went down to the bluffs and made a long survey of the river and the Ohio shore without seeing any thing to cause alarm. The w r omen and children would not leave the cabin, but about ten o’clock in the morning, one of the men went down the river and brought back some steel traps which had been set along the stream, being absent until an hour after noon. He saw no Indians, and wa- inclined to regard the alarm as a great scan. Carson had left orders that they should construct some large boxes to pack the furniture in, and during the balance of the afternoon they were engaged in this work. Night fell upon lighter hearts than before, and forgetting Carson’s words of warn ing. all slept soundly and there was no one to watch. When day came again the women and children scattered to'the different cabins, having no longer any fear of an attack. Callie Carson went to her father’s cabin and busied herself packing little mementoes, and the men finished another box* and packed such furniture as they could. Theft!