t... mamas“... .

 
 
  
 
 
 
 
       

 

a
l

      
 

‘X
all a hoax on Foxcroftl" the General ex-
claimed. - ‘

“A hoax l” and the old Judge straightened :

up and put on a solemn look. 5‘ General Smith,

what do you take me for l" and then Yell shook -

his forefinger slowly at the old soldier. “ No,
sir i To day you witnessed a ‘ specimen brick’ of
how we need to administer justice in Arkansas

in the olden time. Mr. Foxcroft is a stranger; '

we but followed the scriptural injunction when
we ‘took him in.’ Doubtless in his far-off
northern or eastern homeghe has often heard
stories of hotv» we conduct our courts of justice
in this benightcd region; we men who are in-
nocent of shirt-collars, and who don’t take
much stock in store-clothes. When he was
called upon' to aSsu’me the seat of Justice, be
naturally expected to see what he had heard
about, and I really flatter myself that Bob, and
your humble servant, succeeded in makinga de—
Cldcd impression upon this ‘ lot-ker-on in Ven-
icc.’ After he has ‘s’poiled the Egyptians ’ and
gocs back to his,’ native heath,” he’ll be able
to tell a prettyegood story or how we run the
law-courts down in this region. , ,

, And then, as Smith thought over the scene
in the court-room, and realizsd that. it was all a
stupendous joke, coolly planned and cleverly
('erlltcd bythe ’old fat lawyer, assisted by his
voungrr legal brother, he could not restrain his
anglitcr. ’ - V A ‘

“ I swear, Judge!" Smith exclaimed, after he
got through laughing, “this is the richest joke
I ever heard of. It’s too good to keep 1"

“ Ah, no," the J udgc replied, solemnly.
“Your ‘fingers' on your lips I pray.’ It will
never do to let it out; the worthy Justice
would never hear the last of it; but, General
Smith, I consider, Sir, that you have ill used
me today." >

This abrupt accusation considerably astonish-

ed the planter. _

. “ What have I done now ?"

l‘f It is uotthe sin of commission, General
smith, that you' have to answer for, but the
contrary," the Judge explained with dignity,
shaking the awful forefinger at Smith asbc
spoke. “ It is a well-known fact, sir, for forty
miles around that Jim Yates, over opposite, at.
the General Lee saloon, keeps us good whis-
ky as can be got in the State of Arkansas, and
you have never said ‘ tire-water ’ to me cues to-
day. sir.”

“Come. on, then, you old'humbugl" cried
Smith, advancing to the door; “ come, gentle-
men, join us.” He addressed Howard and
Texas.

“ Send for Johnson i” cried Yell, as the party
emerged into the street. “ My conscience
would uphraid me if: we drank without our
worthy sheriff.”

And so the party waited until “ Mister
J‘oliuson,”,us the Judge persisted in calling
him, was hunted up.

The Convivialceremonies over, the Judge,
Smith, and Texas, mounted their horses, rode
down to the Post. Office, received their mail, and
then departed' honie‘ward. _

Judge Yell bid them good-night when he ar-
rived at. his place,and the General and his ovcr~
seer continued on their way.

Naturally they fell intovconversation in re:
gard to the trial. Texas expressed his surprise
at the enormous fine that the Justice had wish-
ed to inflict. upon him.

" Yell explained all about that,” the General
S"ll(l. “ You see Foxcroft is anxious to get the
goodwill of the neg-rues, and naturally the
blacks would be inclined to look upon this af-
fair as a sort of an outrage upon them, not.
knowing all the detailsof the case. IfFoxcroft
isn't careful, though, he’ll get into trouble.
'l‘ln-rc was no cause for inflicting a heavy fine
in this attain. If he had simply fined you live

PROVE museum A MAN.

Won.

-uvn.n.,x._

In every trial, care or storm
That may asuail you all and long,

When dark disaster's dread alarm
Both of; bring tor-thins funeral song;

When the surges of aflliction roll,

C And you see the glimpse of life‘s short span.

Despair not. though grieved thy soul,
But eVer prove yourself a. man I

Temptations great will of: assail
The walk and, strong of humankind,
And nnmy hearts, tliougll‘fitout, shall quail
’Neaththe assaults upon the mind-
And In rce and long they oft will be,
Some dreaded, and a noxious ban,
Then hold your ground and do not flee,
But ever prove yourself a man I

ll‘ through life‘s rough. uneven way
Th slt‘ :- should lnlter, and despair
Shell (1 so are thee in lil‘e's fray,
And you a victim doth declare:
When thy lite seems dark and drear,
,And no clear sky you can scan,
Be fillih‘lll-—l)r00( no fear,
But. ever prove yourself a man I

Though dark the clouds in time of storm
There is clear sky beyond;

Though here oppressed by adversity‘s arm,
Time soon is tall break the bond:

Then bear up nobly ‘guinst the tide
That. sweeps against our van.

The arm Omnipotentwlll guide,
Then prove yourself a man!

 

 The Specter Barque.
A TALE OF _T__I:I_E PACIFIC.

BY CAPT. MAYNE REID,
AUTHOR or “TRACKBD T0 onus," 2rd, mo.

CHAPTER LXIV.
A. BREAD RECOGNITION.

THE occupants of the grotto are in darkness,
though not yet. asleep. , . ,

To them repose is impossible. It can only
come when mental suffering has exhausted
mental strength, till nature calls for its restora-
tion.

They have experienced the keenest anguish,
primed through its first excited throes, and now
in its second Stage are calmer.

But it is the calm of despair, mingled with a
deep, deadening grief. One mourns a father
murdered, the other almost equally grieves for
him who is her grandfather. They have no
doubt that he is dead. How could they?
\Vhile in the boat they heard their captors
speaking about the scattling of the ship, both
Well knowing what that meant.

Long ago, then, must she have gone to the
bottom of the sea with the living left aboard,
perhaps only dead bodies. For they first must
have murdered them. No matter now. The
bereaved ones do not shape conjectures about
how death has come to him dear to them.
Too horrid to dwell on such details. Enough
to know they are bereft—and more than
enough to reflect .that they are themselves
threatened with a fate on which they dare not
dwell.

They do not need telling why the barque has
been abandoned. Though hindered from see»
iug they have heard. \Vhilc the boat was be—
ing loaded with the gold-dust, enough speech
[passed ,among the pirates to acquaint them
with What was carried on. Cupidlty has been
the cause of the crime. A conspiracy among
the sailors. A scheme to plu‘nd’cr‘the ship. It
has succeeded; it is done! '

But all is notth over.
so i i .

There is something still to come; that which
.fthrills them to think of.

What is to be their own fate?

 

Would that it were

 

dollars, why of course it would have been paid
in a moment, but he overshot the mark and
gave the Judge a chance to get back at. him. I
swear, though, I never dr 'amed that. the whole
thing in the Courtroom was a joke, though I
did think that both llo 'ard and the Judge
Were acting.r like. a couple of lunatics."

’l‘cxas said Very little as they rode on, and the
General did all the talking. He was in high
spirits at the way things had gone, and he ex-
pressed his opinion that there wouldn’t be much
more trouble with the hands.

The overseer was strangely moody, and
seemed absorbed in his‘own thoughts, merely
asscntiug to the General’s remarks. ‘

Asthe two rode up to the house, they detect-
ed the flutter of a white dress on the piazza;
and as they‘reined‘ in their horses, Missouri
came down the steps. ‘

“ What kept you so late, father ?" she asked ;
“ I’ve had supper for ever so long."

“ We’ll do it justice now,” Smith replied;
“ We come back conquering heroes.”

At the supper-table Smith related what had
transpired in the court of Justice Foxcroft, a
partial account of which Sam had alrcad y given
his mistress. .

Smith had a hearty laugh as he recited the
ext raordinaryproceedings of old Judge Yell and
Bob Howard, but the overseer, although he
smiled in sympathy with the General's merri-
mcnt, did not seem to share his glee.

Missouri, who had watched the oversecr’s
face closely, detected an expression there which
site had never seen before. It was evident to
her that his mind was bent upon some subject
not at all connected with the ’sault and battery
case, and she shrewdly guessed that the subject.
was not. a pleasant one, whatever it might
be. ‘ V

After supper The-Man-from.Texas begged to
be cxcmcd, and immediately retired.

Pretty Missouri frowned amd hit her lip. It
Wz'lé‘l plain that she did not like the proceeding.

.lhe overseer pulled his but down ovr-r his
eyes as he descended the steps, and took his
Way to the stable.

As he approached the building he heard
the sounds of negro voices, and loud burstsof
laughter from the interior.

P““5l"g i0" =1 moment on the threshold, he
Soon discovered that Sam was entertaining a
select circle of friends with an imitation ofthe
trial-scene before Justice Foxcroft,amljust at
that moment was delivering Judge Yen's c103.
mg speech, with such a laughable imitation of
the Judge’s manner that it brought a smile to
the lips of Texas, moody as he was. But. then
be interrupted the exhibition by knocking on
ghet- stable door, and calling upon Sam to Come

u ..

In a’moment the darkey made his appearance.

(1'0 be continued— Commenced in No. 181.)

 

 

.‘ldttle Causes, Large Eil’ects. —-Splush went
a, little stone into a pool. and a bubble and a
circle showed where it fell. Then came a cir~
cle beyond, fainter but larger. Another came,
round that. and another, and hunt or each
fainter and hug-r, till the 1.8! reached tn: mar-
gin of the pool, and moved the rmhcs. “ Sonic-
thing vtryinunrtant must have lzappcnel."
said the rushes, “by the size of the circle."
“ No, gentlemen," said :1 Willow that lUWt‘l'L’d
above them. “I can see over the pool,and I
assure you that the first Circle from whi it
this, through a succession 0f “lite-S. bok its
rise, was Vl-ry small, and had a 11108! itsigniti?
taut origin; butl have often noticed of little
things and thrir report that the longer they
liVe the larger they grow, till the effect at last
incurs no proportion to its cause."

 

 
 

 

In what form

other word the piece of sail~cloth spread across
the entrance is pushed ahide, and two men,
passing past it, stand inside the grotto.

Soon as entering one of them says:

“Senoritas .’ we must ask pardon for making
a somewhat untimel Call, which circumstances
render imperative. t’s to be hoped, however,
you won’t stand upon such stiff Ceremony with
us as you did on a certain occasion when we
had the honor of paying our respects to you.”

After this singular per-oration the speaker
pauses to see what may be the effect of the
speech. As this can not be gathered from any
reply, since none is vouchsafed, he continues:

, “Dona Carmen Montion you and I are old
acquaintances, though it may be you don’t re»
member my voicc. With the sound of the sea
so long echoing in your ears I can hardly think
it strange you should not. Perhaps the sense
of sight will prove more effectual in recalling
an old friend; let me give you something to us-
sist it.” ' ‘

Saying this, the speaker holds out a lantern
hitherto concealed under his cloak. As it. flashes
its coruscat-ions around the little cave, four
forms are seen beneath the sparkling stalac-
tiles. '

They are all erect; for at the intrusion the
girls have sprung to their feet under an appre-
hension of immediate danger. Upon the faces.
of all the light shines clear; and fronting her,
Carmen Montijo sees, too surely recognizing,
Francisco Dc Lara, while in her mix—writs Inez
Alvarez identifies Faustino Calderon!

:

CHAPTER LXV.
, DEATH on Disnost'on.

, THE captive girls stand confronting the in‘
traders, both sensibly trembling.

It is but the realization of forebodings long
felt. . v

Before them are their rejected suitors. Not
disguised in sailor garb, but in the showy Cali-
fornian costume—the some as worn by them
on that day when De Lara rolled in the dust of
the Dolores road.

Now that they are in his power, he feels his
triumph complete; and, in emlted strain, he
continues:

“ Senoritas, you see we have come together
again. Surprised at our presence, are you not?
Perhaps a little annoyed 1*”

There is «no reply to this taunting s .cc’h.

“\Vcll, if you won't answer me, I ll take it
for granted you are. And you look alarmed,
too? You’ve no need to be that.”

“ No, indeed,” indorses Calderon; “ I assure
you, ladies, We mean you no harm. None
whatever." v

“ On the contrary,” goes on De Lara, “only
good. W’e have nothing but favors for you.”

“ Don Francisco dc Lara," says Carmen, at
length br taking silence, and speaking in a tone
of piteous expostulatiun, “ and you, Don Faus-
lino Calderon, why have you committed this
crime? What injury havo We ever done you i"

“ Crime! Not ‘so fast, fair Carmen. There’s
been no crime committed.”

“ No crime! Santim’ma/ My father—my
father l"

“ Don’t be uneasy about him.
enough.”

“ Safel He is dead! Dias do mia alma!”

Inez joins in the despairing exclaniations.

“No—not that’s all nonscnsrel” protests the
pirate, adding falsehood to his sin of deeper dye.
" Don Gregorio is not dead; only gone off on a
voyage by himself. But come, senoritasl let’s
drop that subject and talk of yourselves. You
ask what injury you’ve done us. Faustino Cal-
deron may answer for himself to the fair Inez.
To you, Dona Carmen, I shall make reply.
But we may as well Confer privately.”

 

He’s safe

 

o

less by consenting to change your names. ' And
if you don’t consent, they’ll be changed all the
same. Yes, Carmen Montijo, before another
week passes over your pretty head, you shall be
addressed as Dona Carmen de Lara.

“ Ami you, Senorita Alvarez, will be called
Dona Inez Calderon. No need for you to fch
dishonored by a name among the best in Cali-
fornia—noble as your own. Ay, or any other
in Spain." ‘

“ Hasta mandna, senoritaa !” salutes De Lara,
preparing to take leave. “ nodw I”

Calderon repeating the same formulary, they
turn toward the entrance of the cave, lift up
the piece of suspended sail cloth, and pass out
into the night. ‘

The have taken’the lamp along with them,
Tagain leaving the grotto in darkness.

The girls grope their way till they come in
contact. \thu, closing in mutual embrace,
they sink together upon their knees and silently
resign themselves to prayer.

CHAPTER LXVI.
THE ABANDONED saucers.-

ANO'rnEu day dawns, another sun ‘shines
upon the South Sea.

As the golden orb mounts over the crest of
the Central American Cordillera, at a single
bound its beams go broad across the Pacific
like a lamp held aloft flashing its light afar.

Many degrees of longitude, many geographi-
cal miles of ocean surface receive simultaneous
illumination, in an instant turning night into
day.

One placed upon a high promontory, and
looking west over that vast wilderness of water,
would, in all probability, sec on its shining ex-
panse objects that gladdened not. the eyes of
Bilboa. In‘ his day only the rude Indian baled,
or frail periagua, fearing to venture far out, stole
timidly along the shore. Now may be seen
running an Ma'gei'big ships, with broad white
sails, and at intervals the long, black hull of a
steamer, thick smoke vomited forth from her
iron funnels, gradually growing thinner as it
spreads wakeward over the water.

Not always can these be seen ; for the com-
{uerce of the Pacific coast is slight compared
vith that carried on along the eastern side of
the Atlantic, and the ships passing uorbh and
south fewer and further between.

On this morning none are observed steering
either way; and but. one in any direction. This
one is standing on a different tack, westward
toward mid-ocean.

‘ As thesuu, shining over the crest of the cons:
tral Cordillera, strikes upon Puma Marieto, she
can just be dcscrird from this high hetullnnd,
her spread canvas appearing a white speck, not
bigger than the wings of a sea-gull extended in
full flight. Still through a telescope may be
told—supposing the observer to he a seamen——
that her soils are spread against polacca masts;
moreover, ' that those on the mizen are not
square set, but fore and aft, proclaiming her
to be a barque.

Although looking upon her stern to where a
name is legibly lettered, the observer will not
be able to make this out. She is too far off,
and still going further, she will soon disappear
from the field of “any glass that might be re-
garding her from the shore. She does in fact
disappear just as the sun strikes the sea, glidin
on over the twilight border between night so

light showing Don Gregorio the opcn'cmpty

scarf, all keenly recalling hia« double loss-

I

themselves, with a; reiteration of their shouts
for help—these responded to as before by cries
telling of distresson deck. That and the rover.
iterations of their own voices through the hollow
timbers of the ship. ,

And now that the sun shines well in through }
the cabin windows, they are again silent; its

lockers, the two unoccupied chairs, the fan and

driving him into the very depths of despair.
, Lautanas, alike wretched, though at intervals
still making effort to release himself, each more
faint and with feeblcr strength, he at length too-
.yielding to the inevitable, to the protraction of
despair. ~

Alone in the caboose, the negro has also
ceased crying out, and desisted from his strug-
gles. Bound upon the bench, he sits t uposite
the galley fire, now gone out, his wrink ed vies
age immobile as the griffin that grins ulna—vi:
upon the casting of the grate.
_ No sounds are heard save the singing of the
breeze as it strikes the rigging ropes, antlwhips
against the sails. Blowing fresh it bellies them
out into a taut curvature, carrying the Condor
away—still further away—into the wilderness
of ocean. , ‘

 

CHAPTER LXVII.
THE oomynusr DIVIDED.

; THE same sun that shines upon the aban-
doned barque has first flashed upon the cliffs of
the Veraguan coast.

The golden beams, slanting over their crest,
light up a little bay between two projecting
shoulders of rock. It is a bigbt or cove, of ‘
horse-shoe shape, backed by the beetling preci- ‘
pice. A ledge or dike, sea—washed and weed—
‘covered, trends across its entrmice, with a gate-
likc opening in the center, through which at
high tide the sea flows in. But never quite up
to the inner end of the bay or the base of the

[encircling cliff. It may have dune so in days

lo < past—a different geological era.

ow there is a terrace recording the ancient
tide—mark, and several feet above=tho present
sea lchl. It is only an acre or two in extent,
’occupying the inner concavity of the cave.
From it’the sand-beach is not visible, or but a
small portion of it through the portal that ad-
mits the tidal flow. » Elsewhere can be seen
only the sea, outside the surf, with the reef
breakers at more than a milc‘s distance be
yond.
v Turning to the cliff the view is bounded by a
facade of rock. curving all round, black, scarred
and grim. Only in the Center of its concavity
the blue sky dips a little lower, telling of a
gorge going upward.

A channel cut through the terrace dividing it
in twain, is the track of a rivulet that descends
through the gorge.‘ But though rain has fallen
on the night before, now at; sunrise not a. drop
of water is in its bed.

Such is the place where the late crew of the
Chllian barque have rowed her pinnace ashore
1—518 disclosed on the morning after by the sun
looking over the crest. of the. cliff.

But little is seen to discover the presence of
the pirates, only a man seated upon a’ stone,
nodding as if asleep, at interVals awaking with
a starLand spasmodically gaping at a gun that
leans be tween his legs, again giving way to ir-
resistible slumber, the effect of a late drunken

 

 

(lav.

Gazing at her through no glass, but with the
puiniscient eye of the author, we see that she is
u barque, with all canvas out, even to stun’-
sails.

It is no surprise to see her decks deserted,
not even a slecrsmau at the wheel. To all ap-
pearance 130 living being aboard,savc two mon-

 

 

Saying this, he tach hold of Carmen’s wrist,

 

are they to be afflicted ‘3
They can not tell, nor guess. They are al~
ready suffering affliction too great to permit of
their reflecting clearly or calmly. '

But in the midst of vague fears, there is one
that. assumes shape too w: ll defined, with dark
shade filling up'the outlines. It is the same of
which Carmen was speaking When seized. She
again returns to it, saying:

“ Inez, I am now almost sure we are not in
the hands of strangers. What has happened,“
and those voices we have heard, tell me my
suspicions have been too true.”

“ Heaven help us if it be so i"

“ You may Say that, sobrz'na. ' Yes; Heaven
help us! Even from pirates we might have
expected some mercy. From these we must
look for none. For if it be them, it has not
been our gold that has tempted them to take
all these pains. Alida mi,lllothcr of God!
What will become of us ?”

The interrogatory is not answered, or only
by a sigh. The niece, like her aunt, is silenced,
both giving way to the crushing weight of
wretchedness that borders upon despair.

After a time they again exchange speech,
seeking Counscl of one another. Is there no
hope, no hand to help. no one to whom they
can turn in this hour of dread ordeal?

Nomnonc l

The American sailor, he too prchd
faithlcssc—to all appearance chief of the ital»
torous crew !

For long time have they been mystified by
the behavior of this man. During the early
days of the voyage, they had approached him,
endeavnrlil! to draw him into conversation
about Cl‘ouler and Cadwallader. To their sur.
prise, as also chagrin, they found him reserved,
reticent, or giving; enigma numbers; at it‘ll-'3
same time treating them with due respect.
Dow or twice he had given a hint of extending
protection, as if to fortify them against Some

future contingency-they might have to fear.
Some danger of the sea, storm or shipwreck
was all they could think of, little dreaming of
the revolt that has arisen.‘ Now they are no
longer mystified about the man’s behavior.
His treachery has made all clear. Those Words
of rcspcct and promise wore but meant to allay
suspicion, and have proved him a double trai-
tor.

.
as «a
Iu‘na

Harry Blew. Nor from any one else Every
human being seems to have abandoned them.

Has God ‘2

“Let us pray to Him 3" says Carmen, after
indulging hopeless thoughts, and exchanging
fruitless counsels. V

“ Yes," answers Inez. “He only can help
us now."

They kneel side by side on the bard stonv
floor of the grotto. and send up their voices in
cnrnest prayer. They first current the Holy
‘Virgin that the life of him dear to them may
yet. be spared; thcu invoke her protection
against a danger both dread more than dcath.
lhcy pray to trembling accents, but with a
fervor eloquent through verv fear. Suyiuo‘
“Amen,” they make the. sign of the cross. II
is done in darkrrsq, God alone seeing it.

As their hands drop from the gesture, and
while they are still in a kneeling attitude, a
voice is heard outside, that suddenly stave
their hopes from IIcaVen, recallintr them to
*arlllly fears. a 3

There are voices of turn in conversation: the
same as saluted them when seized on the Ship,
awakening wild recollections in the minds of
both.

'lhcy ,have no time now to talk of this, or
any thing clsc. Before they can exchange an-

 

Thcy can look for no help nor hope tron N

and leads her aside, Calderon wuductiug Inez
:‘m the opposite direction. .

\Vhen the wildle length of the grotto is be-
tween the two pairs, De Lara. resumes:

“Yes, Carmen Montijo, you have—done the
injury, a double injury I may call it.”

‘.‘ How, sir ?" she asks, tearing her hand from
his grasp, and flinging him off with a disdainful
gesture. _

" How? Why, in making me love you, by
leading me to believe you loved me." ‘

“ You speak falscly, senor; I never did so i"

“You did; you did. It is you who speak
false, thus denying it. That. is the first wrong
I lame to reproach you with. The second, your
casting me off, as you supposed you had done.
Not so, as you see now. ‘ We’re together again ;
never more to part. At least not till I'Ve had
satisfaction for every thing that's passled. I
once hinted, I now tell you plainly, you’ve
ilnadea mistake in trifling with Francisco do

are.”

“ 1 never trifled with you! Dias miol \Vhat
docs this mean? Man, if you be a man, have

mercyi Ohl W'hat ' would you—what would
‘you ‘3”

“ Nothing to call for such distracted entrcat-
ics. On the contrary, l’ve brought you here
——for I won’t deny that it is I who have done
it-—to grant favors instead of satisfying resent-
ments. What I intend for you I hope you will
appreciate. To shorten eXplanations. and come
to the point, I want you for my wife~want,
and will have youl”

“ Your wife l”

“ Yes, my wifel You nicedn’t look surprised,
nor counterfeit feeling it. Idle for you to
make opposition. I’ve determined upon it.
Carmen Montion you must marry me.”

l “ Alarry the murderer of my father! Smut-r
than do thz‘e 9191.} Shell :LlSO be  “Notch l
I am in your power. I‘ll! can kill me now.”

“ 1 know I can, without your telling mc. But
I don‘t intend killing you. On the contrary, I
shall take care that you 1ch until I’ve tried
what sort of a wife you’llmake. If you prove
a good one, and fairly afii‘ctionate, \ve two may
lead a happy life, notwithstanding the little
unpleasantness that is between us. If not, and
our Wedded bondage prove uncongeuial, why, .
then, I may release you in the way you wish,
or any other that Set-ms suitable. After the
honeymoon, you shall have your choice. Now,
senrfita, those are my conditions. I hope you
find them fair enough."

Carmen Montijo makes no tit-ply.

The proud girl is dumb, partly from indigua‘
lion, partly front the knowledge that rejoinder
would be idle. Btu», while angrv to the ut-
most, she almost trembles at the alternative of-
fered to her imagination. Death or dishonor;
this if she marry the murderer of her father;,
that if she refuse him i " ‘ -'

. In the same cynical strain the ruifian repeats
his proposal, again closing it with a‘ threat.

She is at length stung to reply; in short
speech, but with wild, despairing accent; But
two words, twice- pronounced.

“ Kill the! Kill me i"

Almost at the same time does Inez answer"
her cowardly suitor, who. in the opposite end
of the cave, has alike brought: her to bav.

After the dual response there is a short inter-
val of silenCe. Then De Lara, speaking for
both. says:

“ Senorilas, we shall leave you now ; vou
can go to sleep without fear of further solicits
tion. No doubt, after a night’s rest, \ou’ll
awake to a more sensible view of things in
general, and the situation as it stands. Of one
thing be assured: that there‘s llurchntil‘c of

 

slrous counterfeits of humanity covered with
bistro-colored hair. Nor more. to find her fore~
castle empty, with sailors logs strewcd over its
floor. Nothing to astonish us,on glancing into
the galley, thereto behold a black man scaled
upon a bench, who does not rise to receive as.
Nor'yct descendng to her Cabin to see a table.
well spread, with a guest at each end of it, both
sitting still on their chairs, the features fired in
.an expression of'siark, staring agony.

surpriSe us. For we know their nuture,as their
*history, front initial to now. ,

They are aboard the Chilian barque, aban-
doned the night before, and sent sailing out. to
sea. And now that the day has dawned, and
the red sunbeams ‘strike against hcrstem and
,light up the lettering, Ell CONDOR-VALPA-
iRAISO. She is still sailing on—on—on.

Simultaneous with the sunrise she has lost
sight of land, and may never more see it. Nor
aught save sea and sky, with the rare denizens
of both, growing rarer as she glides further into
the great South Sea, on whose broad bosom she
may bent about for days, weeks, months—21y,
forever-without Seeing ship, or being Seen by
human eye. ,

This reflection, with others equally chcerlcss,
and some more painful, passes through the
minds of the two men, who sit constrained at
her cabin table. For now that the night is
passed, and no one comes to relieve them, they
comprehend their situation in all its dread
rcalit y.

A fearful night have they passed. Over and
flVl'l‘ have they made cfiorls to release them-
selves, twisting their arms and bodies about far
as the lashings would allow, wriggling and
wrenching till the Cords have cut through their

“ skin. Otfly to discover that they could not free

themselves from their fastenings.

What chance of any one (aiming to help
them? Often during the night did- thcy ask
this question—wither in soliloquy, or of one
another. OtiCc had they a hope, as they heard
shouts upon deck. coognizing the voice of
the ncgm: -~

“ Thank Heaven 1 he has remained faithful,"
both mentally rxclaimcd, every moment expect.
ing to hear his footslcp descending the stair.

But continuing to listen, their hearts again
sunk within them. The cxclamutions sounded
distant as (‘Vl‘l', thvir long-drawn monotone.
proclaiming them cries of distress; the natural
deduction that the negro, like themselves, was
fast bound. in some part of the vessel forwmd

Proof of it, as their own shouts sent up in
“mm-v, received only response in the more
strain. Still further as time passed and be up
lair-areal not. his cries changing to low moaninzs.
heard only indistinctljj, and at long intervals
apart. " ‘

(leasing hi arithe, knowing it idle to call any
longer for help, exhausted by tin-ll- Struggles,
they at length gave way; falling into a stupor
of despair that soon became sleep. A deep,
dead slumlwr, in which their misery was for
the moment {whom-n. , .

Day stealing tlnough the ('dliil'i viimiows Saw
them in this state, like two men line? a night’s
(Fellow-h, who, unable to stagger to their birds,
had fallen asle in their chairs. Very (litter—
eiif the fact: as their reflecljohs on awahkig.
They had no thought of stretchingr forth their
hands a: grasp the half emptied glueses. 'l‘lte‘

, perfume of the line fruits. and the bouquet of the

choice wines that an attraction for them then.
And if they had, it. would have been all the
same. Ether Was as much beyond their reach
as if set on a table ten thonrumd miles away.
That awaking brought back no sensual

 

your escaping from your present captivity un-

tiloiurhl or instinct, truly kr-cn mental agony. ,
It led to a renewal of their efforts to release

\

Strange as are these spectacles they do not .

debauch._ He would be but a poor Sf‘lltlllfll were
there need for vigilance. Seemingly there is
none. No enemy is near; no human being in
sight save himself. The only animate objects
are the scasbirds, that, winging their wayahmg
the face of the cliff, salute him with an occa-
sional scream, surprised at bisprcscnce in a
spot. hitherto sacred to themselves.

The day fairly on, he springs to his feet ; then
going to the head of a (rave close by, and Stopr
ping in front of it, he cries out: '

“ inside there, matesl Sun‘s up——time to be
stirring.” , ,

Seeing him in motion, and hearing his hail,
«the gulls gather, and swoop amend his head in
continuous screaming, in larger numbers and
inorcslridulcut cries as his comrades issue out
of the cave.

One after another they step forth, yawning
and stretching their arms.

The tic-t, looking seaward, proposes to my
fresh himself by a pltmgc in the surf, and for
this pur starts for the beach. The others,
taken With the idea, follow in twos and threw,
till in a string-all are seen (hrscending toward
the strand. To reach this. it is ricer-ssary for
them to pass through the gap in the transverse
Edge, which the tide, now out, enables them to

(l. ‘

He who leads having gone through it, soon as,
he gets view of the beach, suddenly sums as‘ho
docs so, sending hock a shout. It. is a cry of can
prior. followed by the words:

“ By —-——, the boat‘s gone i"

The announcement so profancly made should
cause them apprehension. It would if they
knew the Consequences. Ignorant of them,
thcy make but a light; matter of it; one, who
speaks their mind, responding with like proa
faulty : ‘ \

“Let her go, and be cursed to it! we want;
no boat now i" . ,

“ A dozen horses would be more to our pur-
pose,” suggests a second, “ or males, for that
matter.“

" A dozen donkeys Would do,” adds a third,
scoompauying his remark with a loud laugh.

“ It’ll take about that many to pack our pos-
siblcs." 7

“ What’s become of the old pinnace. say-
how ?” asks one in sober strain, as having pass»-
ed through the rock‘s portal, they all stand
scanning the strand. They remember the place
where they landed and left the boat; they see
it is not there. _

“ Has any one made away with it ?”

The question is asked and instantly answer-
ed, one saying no. Striker, the man who first
missed it, muchsafcs an explanation of its dis‘
appearance. ‘

‘ “ The tide gooiu’ out 33 taken it along.
good to bits on them lhcer breakers."

All rcmcudwr that the boat was not moored,
but left with painter loose. No wonder it Went
adrift. _ .

Caring little, indeed nothing, they think of it
no lougcr.

Stripping. they plunge into the surf, and
bathe their bodies with delight. ‘

'l‘hcn returning to the cavern, they array
themselves in garments better befitting the life,
they inland leading, their sailor~clotlus cast. off
to be abandoned. Most, have-«a suit of " gm
asl’iorcs,” brought with them from the barquc.
The four Spaniards appear in Mexican cos-
tu‘me, for three of them are Californians, Go-I
metals?“ De Iltil‘a, being the etception. Like
Calderon under the pseudonym of IIPI‘DRIHIUZ,
Padillo and Velarde are nativc'sof Sun Francis
co. Their real names, as may he Sunnised, are
respectively, Rome and Imzada} , .

' Over} the sword the Flu-nchmau, La Crease»

sinus in a dress befitting the Botilevatds 0

Paris, The Done and Dutchman have also;
rigged themselves according to the st yle of their
respcc'ti‘Vc nations, while the two nameless his-W
remain nondescrips, even in their changed av,
tire. The three of AngloSaxon race retain the 
apparel of the am; not from preference,
because of their having no other at. hand. é,
ry Blew sticks to his pea‘jackct of pilot clttft

It’s