ck of
Seth Spinnet's weapon rang its fatal death-peal, and the next moment the
captain fell back into the arms of his men, with a brace of bullets in
his heart.

"Now," shouted the old man, as he leveled the long pivot gun, and seized
a lighted match, "I'll give you just five minutes to make your minds up
in, and, if you don't surrender, I'll blow every one of you into the
other world."

The death of their captain, and, withal the sight of the pivot gun--its
peculiar properties they knew full well--brought the pirates to their
senses, and they threw down their weapons, and agreed to give
themselves up.

In two days from that time, Captain Spinnet delivered his cargo safely
in Havana, gave the pirates into the hands of the civil authorities, and
delivered the clipper up to the government, in return for which, he
received a sum of money sufficient for an independence during the
remainder of his life, as well as a very handsome medal from the
government.

KENTON THE SPY.

A secret expedition had been planned by Col. Bowman, of Kentucky, against
an Indian town on the little Miama. Simon Kenton and two young men,
named Clark and Montgomery, were employed to proceed in advance, and
reconnoiter. Kenton was a native of Fauquier county, Virginia, where he
was born the fifteenth of May, 1755; his companions were roving
backwoodsmen, denizens of the wood, and hunters like himself.

These adventurers set out in obedience to their orders, and reached the
neighborhood of the Indian village without being discovered. They
examined it attentively, and walked around the cabins during the night
with perfect impunity. Had they returned after reconnoitering the place,
they would have accomplished the object of their mission, and avoided a
heavy calamity. They fell martyrs, however to their passion for
horseflesh.

Unfortunately, during their nightly promenade, they stumbled upon a
pound, in which were a number of Indian horses. The temptation was not
to be resisted. They severally seized a horse and mounted. But there
still remained a number of fine animals; and the adventurers cast
longing, lingering looks behind. It was melancholy--the idea of
forsaking such a goodly prize. Flesh and blood could not resist the
temptation. Getting scalped was nothing to the loss of such beautiful
specimens of horseflesh. They turned back, and took several more. The
horses, however, seemed indisposed to change masters, and so much noise
was m