; ..—..- .-. 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 

had better submit to the loss of a limb than the
loss of life. In a short time, if thisinflammation
goes on, it will be too late to risk an opera—
tion.”
“I can't lose my arm,” I said, stubbornly,
thinking of the wreck I should be with only my
left arm to fight the battle of life_out With.
“ Besides, the amputation might kill me,” I
added.
“ It might,” was the reply; “ but the chances
of your getting Well after an amputation of your
arm would be far greater than t ey are at pres-
ent. HOWever, if you are determined to hang to
your arm, we must try and do the best we can
for you.” _
And after dressing my wound, now terribly
inflamed, he left me.
For a short time after his departure I was
comparatively comfortable, but by and by the
sharp, darting pains began again, and soon I
was suffering intensely.
Presently the nurse came up. Seeing how ter-
ribly I was suffering, he called to the surgeon,
who was passing through the ward.
“ Poor fellow!" the surgeon said. “ I’m afraid
he’ll havea hard time of it. Give him one of
these powders now, and, in case the attacks
‘ come on again, give him another. Should they
r be very severe, give him two.”
1 I swallowed the drug, and gradually the sense
,‘ of excruciating pain died out, and at last obliv-
‘ ion came.
. It was late in the night when I awoke from
i the effect of the opiate.
i Just at daybreak the attack came on with
- much greater violence than before. I thought I
was dying. An intense, fiery pain seemed to
concentrate itself in my wound, and then surge
all through my body, like a wave of blood heated
to intenscst heat.
The nurse was greatly alarmed when he came
in, and hastily repared the potion ordered by
the surgeon. I) took it eagerly, anxious for
something to relieve me from the horrible agony
I was undergoing.
Again that subtle, deathly stupor crept over
me, and I felt all consciousness leaving my
i brain.
2 After that, for along time, life was an utter
1 blank to me. It was as though it had been tak—
l en away from me for a time, and only given
1
|

 

 

back grudgingly at last.

IVhen again a vague sort of consciousnem
came stealing in upon my sluggish senses, I be.
came aware of voices in my room. I listened. I
could hear words spoken, but they seemed far
off and indistinct. Gradually they came, or
seemed to come nearer, until I could distinguish
what was being said.

“ He died day before yesterday,” I heard the
surgeon say, in tones of respectful sympathy.
“ The nurse found him suffering terribly, and
gave him a dose of morphia. That seemed to
quiet him at once. After he grew quiet the
nurse left him. When I came around an hour
later he was dead. I thought best to telegraph
to you, and did so, knowing that it would afford

on a sad consolation in taking him home for

burial among his kindred.”

“ I thank you very much for your kindness."
another voice made answer a voice choked with
tears, the voice of my mother, I knew at once.
“ If I could onl haze been here before he died!
M or, poor y!

Hugh God! They thought I was dead. For
hours I had been lying there in the semblance of
death, and my mother had been sent for to come
and take me home for burial!

I tried to open my eyes; to lift my hands; to
speak! In vain. No muscle moved in answer
to the dictates of my will. My will was not suf-
ficient to set in motion the currents of life in my
torpid veins. An awful, terrible feeling crept
over me when I found that my bod had thrown
off its allegiance to my will; that was power-
less to move even a finger or an eyelid. I was
really dead, so far as outward appearances were
concerned.

A sudden breeze seemed to sweep over me. I
felt myself receding into unconsciousness again,
as a wave goes out from shore till its individual-
ity is lost. I was a wave in the tide of life going
out into oblivion.

I thought I was really dying. The semblance
of death was fast becoming its reality.

Then there was another blank in my exist-
ence.

The first impression I felt when I began to be
conscious again was one of extreme cold. I
seemed to be in some ic region. All my ener-
gies seemed to be congea ed into a deadly numb-
ness. Again I tried to move, but my will was
powerless to act upon my body. Not a muscle
stirred.

How long was this to continue? I asked my—
self, in a dull, wondering, stupefied way. Where
was 1? Perhaps I was dead, after all. How did
I know that people were unconscious of earthly
life and happenings after death? Perhaps they
knew when friends bent over them to kiss their
faces for the last time. It might be.

By and by I became conscious that I was in a
cramped position. Suddenly the truth flashed
upon my bewildered senses. I was in my coflin.
That last, narrow house of ours, never a ve
pleasant thing to contem late. But to feel it
cramping your limbs! To beneath its impris—
onedI lid! Ugh! I shiver at the remembrance
now i »

Then I heard steps. Men came in and I felt
myself lifted up and home out. I was carried
along slowly for some ways; then I could tell by
the motion that the bearers of my coffin were as-
cending steps. I heard the creaking of heavy
doors, and then the doc tones of an organ.
Some one was playing a. d’irge.

I knew then that I was in the church I had at-
tended previous to my enlistment in the army.
I had often played the organ which was giving
out such sad deetp tones of sorrowful lament
for me. But I ha never dreamed of hearing it
again under such circumstances as these.

Then I heard the minister read in slow, unim-
passioned tones: .

“ I am the resurrection and the life. Whose-

ever believeth in me, though he be dead, yet
shall he live again.”
. Then came the words of holy comfort. I heard
it all as distinctly as I'ever heard anything in
my life, and yet I was powerless to stir a muscle
of my body.

I struggled impotently with the deadly leth-
argy which was on me. It seemed as though
my frantic efforts to set free the nt—up cur-
rents of the flood of life must avaiIBand break
1digwn the barrier between me and the other

e.

Then friends came to take the last look! I
heard them sobbing over me, heard their stifled
words of parting, and felt their warm tears fall-
ing on my stirless face. Mother came last. She
leaned acI'Oss the coffin, dropped her cheek to
mine, and whispered in a mother’s sorrow at
parting with her dead:

“My hey! my boy! I loved you so!”

'Somehow those words seemed to strike the
hidden springs of life and start them into mo-
tion. The tide of life began to flow and—I open-
ed my eyes and whispered:

“ Mother 1”

 

 

 

Three weeks after this I was able to sit up, but
my hair had faded to its present color! Do you
wonder?

“

 

BETWEEN Damascus and Jerusalem is a tribe
of about 3,000 Hebrews which has been there
probably since the beginning of the Christian
era. They have neither city nor town' they
live in camps. The temple is represented by a
more spacious tent. They have never admitted
among them a person of different race or re-
ligion. Their ordinary language is Hebrew. In
their relations with others they speak Arabian.
These relations. however, are very few, for they
have remained like their primitive races ex-
clusively tillers of the soil and warriors. They
cultivate the ground armed from head to foot,
always ready to defend their portion of earth,
from which. with great difficulty, they derive a
meager sustenance. They live on little, and are
content to thus live in this their native country,
which they have occupied for centuries.

~ «no—x

 

 

 

 

THE N EWSBOY.

BY J. G. MANLY, JR.

 

Boots on his feet. a doubtful fit,
Pleasant for him if too old for you!—

Do not call him “ a worthless chit "
Because in the haunts of sin he grew.

From a baby cradled in sin and shame
Down in an alley damp and drear,
Till to the better life he came,
None had dropped for his lot a tear.

Sul’f’ring is stamped on his youthful face,
But shines there nothing in those blue eyes
To tell he is WOu from the Arab 1' ce._
That at. night in the alley or hovel lies?

Hark how the tones of the full shrill voice
Out on the air their burden pour;

Life of a newsboy!—’tis his chmce,
Only wished he'd " been one afore."

And, as you turn in thejostling throng,
Hearing the words of the passer ring,
Cheery and hearty, and though not loud,

Clear as the song of the birds that smg,

You catch with your chance inquiring look
A glimpse of tone deep blue honest eyes;

And think of a lonely churchyardnook
Where cradled in dust serenely lies

The darling boy who had just such eyes—
Tender. o’er-brimming witn trusd‘ul light.
And our heart is choked with its many sighs.

An your cheekis wet with the tear-drop bright-

Newsboy, live with an honest face!
Persevcre .’ 'From your lowly lot

You may leap to a higher steep—-
You may stand where the poor are not.

And if thou dost and the gift of gold
is given thee by the Lord on high.
Thy hands of power and wealth unfold.
And lend an ear when the needy Sigh.

 

Fire Face,

The Mysterious Highwayman;
on,
THE SILVER KING'S TRAP.
A Tale of Colorado.

 

BY ALBERT IV. AIKEN,

AUTHOR or “JOE PHENIX, POLICE SPY," “ DICK

TALBOT IN NEw YORK,” “ THE BAT OF
THE BATTERY,” ETC., ETC.

 

CHAPTER XV.

THE ROAD-AGENTS GAME.
“ QUITE a surprise-party, eh, my noble duke?”
cried the disguised man, in the same harsh,
ras )ing tones that he had used on the occasion
of is previous interview with the millionaire,
and which Pendra on felt sure were assumed so
that his voice could not be recognized.
“I reckon I am about the last man that you
ex cted to see,” continued the Unknown, “and
I think I would be rfectly safe in betting a big
stake that, if you ad any sa -so in the matter,
we two wouldn’t be holding t is nice, quiet little
confab here at this moment.
“Don’t fool with that revolver!” the stranger
cried, abruptly as Pendragon’s nervous fingers
toyed with the butt of the weapon.
“ I should hate like thunder to kill you, for
upon my word and honor as a gentleman you
are worth a deal more to me alive than dead,
but I’m an awful impatient man sometimes, aw-
ful rash and headstrong and mighty liable to do
rash things when the humor seizes upon me.”
W'ith a muttered curse Pendragon relinquished
his hold upon the pistol and turning. impatient-
ly, faced his captor.
As he had anticipated, it was the mysterious
Unknown with the deathlike face, from whence
shone the strange light, which gave him such an
unearthly appearance.
He was dressed precisely the same as before,
and the millionaire, surveying him with eager
curiosity, could not divest himself of the belief
that this mysterious road-agent was no stranger
to him, but at some time in the past—some time
quite remote, as near as he could get at it—he
had been on familiar terms with him.

Rapidly then in his mind Pendragon strove to
recal to memory recollections of men upon
whose toes he had trampled rudely in the past—
men who would be apt to harbor resentment and
would gladly jump at an opportunity to do him
harm, for the millionaire was a hard fighter and
dealt the men who had the misfortune to get in
his way terrible blows, and those unfortunate
souls who were unlucky enough to be ground
into the dust by his chariot-wheels declared
that he did not know the meaning of the word
mercy.

Pendragon’s memory, although a most excel-
lent one, was at fault in this case.

He could not place the Unknown.

“ Don’t swear; (you won’t catch any fish,” ob-
served the footpa .

“ Take it easy, or, if you can’t take it easy,
take it as easy as you can—ha! ha! ha!” and
hollow and grimly the laugh sounded.

“ What do you want with me?” demanded the
millionaire, impatiently.

“ Not much.”

“ In that case it seems to me that you are tak-
inga good deal of trouble for nothing. I sup—
pose you have killed my man, and if you have
it may go hard with you one of these days.”
Despite the fact that he knew he was abso—
lutely in the power of the Unknown, Pendragon
could not refrain from exhibiting his anger al-
though knowing full well that a display of
temper would not benefit him in the least.

A guttural laugh came from the lips of the
road—agent, his contempt for the threat being
plainly e ressed.

“Oh, hes worth a dozen dead men,” he re-
plied. “ I only hit him a little clip with the soft
end of a hard club as he rode by me in the dark-
ness; sand-bagged him, in fact, and I flatter my-
self that I worked the job to the queen’s taste
for you hadn’t the least suspicion that he had
been foully dealt with.

“But come; I can’t afford to stand chinning
here all night with you. We must get down to
work right away; I’m old businem, I am, and
don’t you forget it.” _

“ I thought you said you didn’t want much of
me?” the millionaire remarked.

“ No more do I.”

“ You wouldn’t get much if you did. I can
tell you that for a sure enough fact.

“ I hav’n’t got any valuable documents with
me this time, and my pocket—book is so well
cleaned out that it looks as if an elephant had
walked over it,” Pendragon said, affecting a
light and cheerful manner, which was far from
being a true index to his feelings.

“ Hard lines, old man, for a cuss like yourself
worth fifty or sixty millions,” the road-agent ob-
served, with a grin. “ Durn me if it wasn’t for
the appearance of the thing if I wouldn’t loan
you a hundred or two to kinder help you on your
way, but then I reckon you’ve got your check-
book with you.”

“ Oh. no, I hav’n’t,” and Pendragon smiled
sarcastically, for he fancied he had discovered
the little game that the foot-pad was up to.

“Not much, I hav’n’t, my friend,” he contin-
ued. “ I don’t as a general rule go meandering
around the country with my check—book in
my pocket, so if you worked this surprise—party
on t at idea lyou will be most beautifully left.”

“Oh, no; tell you, Larry Pendragon, it.is a
cold day when I get left,”the road-agent replied.
“ Your check—book don’t interest me in the least,
but I really do feel considerable curiosity about
your hand-writing.”

_“ My hand—writing!” exclaimed the million-
aire, amazed at this statement.

“ Yes; I reckon I never had the chance to see
what kind of a fist you write, and I s’pose you’ll
think I’m trying to stuff you with a pretty
tough story when I say that I have taken all
this trouble to—night just for the pleasure of get-
ting a specimen of your hand-writing.”

“It is rather a strange idea,” Pend on re-
marked, totally. at a loss to guess what trick the
man had in his mind, for, of course, he was

 

aware that there was some “game” about the
matter. .
“ Yes; I’m kinder an odd, queer cuss, you km
bet high on that; I’ve taken a good deal of'trou-
ble to secure this leetle interview With you, est to
have the )leasure of getting a line or twoo your
hand—writing: so whi ) out your patent pen—for
I want the thing in in —and your memorandum-
book. You see, I’m going to let you off in the
easiest kind of a way.” I _ _
“ So I perceive,” responded the millionaire,
dryly; but in his own mind he did not feel so
sure in regard to the matter, for he knew ver '
well that there was some deep game afoot, a -
though as yet he had not been able to guess what
it was.
Being completely in the power of the Unknown
he had no other course open to him but to yield
obedience to his commands.
So he took out his book and stylograph pen,
and repared to write. _ _
“ ow I want you to fix it up in first~class
Eastern style,” the road-agent remarked. “lro
backwoods or rairie dug—out business about it.
“ Write on t e top line the town and date, Del
Norte, you know.” _ '
Pendragon complied, the other watching him
the while as eagerly as the cat the mouse which
it destines for its prey.
“ You write a mighty good hand,” commented
the road—agent.
“ It‘s as plain as kin be. I reckon almost any-
body could read it, though it ain’t handsome;
you don’t use any curlicues or fancy touches;
quite an uncommon fist, I must say.” _ '
“ Yes, any one who has ever seen my writing
is not apt to forget it.” _ _ _
“ ’Tain’t a hand that can be easily imitated,
either.”
“ That is true enough.”
“ It’s jest a splendid hand! I tell you, boss,
you don’t know how glad I am that I took it_
into my head to git you to give me a sample of
it.
“ Have you got the town and date down all
right .3”
it Yes.”
“ Now write in a separate line under, you
know. in tip-top style:
“ ‘ To Mendoza Brothers, bankers, Santa Fé.’”
“ Hallo, hallo, what are you up to?” demanded
Pendragon, suspiciously. .
“Never you mind, jest you write; that IS all
you’ve got to do.” _ _ ‘
“ And suppose I refuse?” exclaimed the million—
aire, angrily.
“ It won’t be healthy for you to refuse, for I’ll
put a ball through you in a twinkling.” the road-
agent replied, sternly. “ You can bet your bot.
tom dollar, Larry Pendragon, that I mean busi-
ness, every time.”
The millionaire was in the toils; he was help-
less in the power of the Unknown, and there was
something in the man’s manner which convinced
the Colorado King he would not hesitate for a
moment in carrying out his threat if provoked
by resistance.
So without a word Pendragon wrote as re-
quested.
The Mendoza Brothers, of Santa Fé were the
leading bankers of the Southwest, men with
whom the millionaire held intimate business re-
lations.
“ Now write: “Please deliver to bearer the tin
box marked with my name which is in your safe,
and oblige, yours truly, Lawrence Pendragon,’ ”
commanded the Unknown.
A dark look came over the face of the million-
aire, and he hesitated. ,
U came the revolver of the road-agent.
“ B’Vi'ite, or that tin box will be of more inter—
est to your heirs than to you !” he cried.
Thus threatened, the millionaire wrote as he
was directed, although sorely a ainst his will.
The other watched him wit the eyes of a
hawk.
“Good, you’re a bull boy!” the road—agent
exclaimed, when the tas was done.
“ I reckon I will have to remember you in my

officer in readiness to sna a .
upon his wrists,” mused t e millionaire. _
And then a sudden idea occurred to him which

ous manner.

“By Jove! I didn‘t think of that before!” he
exclaimed, abruptly.

“ This fellow is the man that got the docu—
ments from me in Hell’s Canyon.

“ Now if I get him behind the bars at Santa Fe
the chances are a hundred to one that I can
bring him to a settlement. .

“ “'hen he finds that I have him foul he Will
be a )t to endeavor to square matters with me.

“ f be has the plunder he will probably be
willing to hand it over on condition of being re-
leased, and if he has turned it over to other
parties he will be tempted to turn informer and
make a clean breast of it. “’hen a man like
this fellow gets into a hole he is almost certain
to .‘ ueal the moment he discovers he is in a trap.

“ nd if through him I can get at the man or
men who put up the job on me, my name is not
Larry Pendragon if I don’t make them sweat for
it.

“Of course there’s only one man at the bot
tom of the whole business, and that is that in-
fernal Mike Creegan.

" If I could only succeed in proving that he
had a hand in these outra res——that he was the
instigator, so I could land im in jail, I would
gladly give a thousand or two in hard cash!

“ “'ho knows but what this little affair to—
night may turii out to be the luckiest thing for
me that has happened for a long while!”

A groan from his man Mungo at this moment
interrupted the current of Pendragon’s thoughts.

“ Well, it’s plain that he’s not dead 3" the mil—
lionaire exclaimed, as he gropcd his way in the
darkness to where his follower was extended
upon the ground.

“ Oh, what a lick that was!” Mungo exclaimed.
as Pendragon came up to him.

The millionaire struck a match, and by its
light Mnngo was revealed sitting up and rub-
bing his head, while a doleful expression ap-
peared upon his face.

“ Are you had] ' hurt?” Pendragon asked.

“ I guess not, a though I got an awful blow on
the hea ,” the man replied, rising to his feet.
“ W’hat was it, anyway?”

“ A road-a ent attack; the fellow downed
you and then e paid his respects to me; but if
you are able to walk, let’s get on and get out of
this place.”

By this time the match had burnt out. ~~
“ Oh, yes, I’m all right now; I’m strong
enough on my legs, although I’ve got a mighty
bad 'n in in head.” '

“ me out en; I reckon we can manage to
gro our way through the darkness.”

e millionaire was correct in this conjecture,
and in ten minutes’ time the two emerged from
the wood and came out on the open prairie.

It was only about a mile to the town of Del
Norte the lights of which could be plainly dis-
cern in the distance and in a uarter of an
hour Pendragon and his man wa ked into the
hotel where the millionaire had his head-quarters
when business brought him to Del Norte.

The horses of the two, with that city so
common to well-trained and high—b steeds,
had managed to find their way to the hotel, ar-
rivin about ten minutes before their masters.
An the hotel people were in the throes of
wonder as to the reason of the appearance of the
riderless horses, when Pendragon and his man
came up.

“Our beasts took French leave of us,” Pen-
dra on remarked, as he swung himself into the
saddle Mungo following his example.

Pen ragon did not think that it was advisable
to mention what had occurred.

To relate the particulars of his encounter with
the road-agent would only take up time, and

 

prayers.
“ So lon
And the Unknown, carefully folding up the
paper, began to back away.

“ There are only worthless legal papers in the
box l” Pendragon exclaimed.

“ How about the five hundred thousand dol-
lars’ worth of bonds?” cried the marauder, and
then with a hoarse laugh of triumph he disap-
peared in the thicket, and again the spot was
plunged into utter darkness.

Pendragon started like a man who had re
ceived an electric shock.

The statement of the stranger was correct in
every particular.

The tin box—a small tin trunk, to speak cor-
rectly—in the safe of Mendoza Brothers at Santa
Fé, did contain United States bonds worth five
hundred thousand dollars.

And he had given the road—agent an order for
the box.

This was by far the boldest game that had ever
come to the millionaire’s knowledge.

How on earth did the man learn that the bonds
were in the trunk? It was a mystery, if ever
there was one.

“ But, thanks to the telegraph, I reckon I will
be able not only to beat his game, but to lodge
my gentleman in jail!” Pendragon cried.

CHAPTER XVI.
PENDRAGON TAKES ACTION.
THANKS to the electric wires, which the road—
agent had evidently not taken into his calcula-
tions, Pendragon felt sure he could beat the foot—
pad at his own ame.
At the time 0 which we write neither railroad
nor telegraph had reached Del Norte.
Both “ Iron Horse ” and “ Magic Wire ” had
halted at Alamosa after crossing the Rio Grande,
as if the task of jumping the stream had fa-
tigued them so as to render a' rest necessary be—
fore further progress could be made.
The road-agent’s game was clear, so Pendragon
thought.
The job had evidently been carefully planned,
and it was more than robable that there was a
gang engaged in the a air.
There was ahnost a straight road from Ala—
mosa southward to Santa Fe.
The road-agent either had relays of horses
stationed along the road at convenient points,
so that he would be able to get fresh mounts and
so distance pursuit, after the fashion of the pony—
express riders, or else there were not only fresh
horses but fresh men as well, the order for the
delivery of the box being passed from hand to
hand until Santa Fé was reached.
In either case the millionaire felt sure he would
not be able to overtake the rascal or arrive in
Santa Fé in time to prevent the order from be
ing honored.
ut by the aid of the electric spark the clever

scheme of the road—agent could be easily de-
feated.
All that was necessary for Pendragon to do
was to go to Alam0sa and from there send a dis-
patch to Mendoza Brothers at Santa Fé, notifv-
ing them of what had occurred and instructing
them to have officers in readiness to arrest who—
ever should present the order.
And as Alamosa was quite near at hand, com-
pared to Santa Fé. the old Mexican town being
about three times as far. there wasn’t the least
doubt that Pendragon could reach the telegraph
there long before the road—agent and his allies
could get to their destination and secure the rich
prize for which they had so skillfully plotted.

From Del Norte to Santa Fe by way of Taos
was roughly estimated to be somewhere about
two hundred miles.
Nearer a hundred and eighty than two hund~
red some of the old settlers declared.
Sixty leagues the Mexican travelers were wont
to call it, and as a league is about equal to three
English miles the estimate which gave the dis-
tance at one hundred and eighty was probably
correct.
\Vith frequent change of horses, provided the
steeds _were good ones, the distance might he ac-
complished in two days, if there were also relays
of messengers as well as animals, or a single
rider if he was a man of iron like the old-time
ponytexpress messengers, might be able to cover
the distance in that time.

m

 

 

there wasn’t any particular benefit to be derived
from making t e adventure public, as far as he
could see. .

“ Are you off to-night .7” asked the landlord.

“ Yes; but I shall probably be back, although

I may not get in until to—morrow. I’ve a little

business to look after up toward South Fork,

and it may detain me a while. So long!”

And away the two rode.

South Fork was in exactly the opposite direc-

tion to the one which Pendragon intended to

pursue, but the millionaire was one of those

careful. cautious men who would not let his left
hand know what the right was doing if he could
hel it.

he road-agent mi ht have confederates in Del
Norte, and if he a owed the fact to become
known that he had set out for Alamosa sus i-
cion might immediater be excited that he
meant to use the telegraph to warn the bankers
at Santa Fé.

So westward from Del Norte the two rode;
but when they were clear of the ,town, they
made a wide circle around it and headed east-
ward down the Rio Grande.

Both of the horses were excellent ones and in
good trim for such an expedition, and the. dis-
tance was covered in good time.

The railroad agent was roused from his slum-
bers, and Pendragon made known his wish to
open immediate communication by telegraph
with Santa Fe.

“ Can’t do it, boss,” the agent re lied. “ The
young feller that runs the telegrap machine is
down on his back with fever, and he couldn’t
work the thing to save him.

“ The company said they would send a man to
take his place, and I expected him in to-night,
but he didn’t show up.”
A bitter oath rose to the lips of the millionaire.
It was a check to his king on the first move.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE PURSUIT.

N EVER in all his life had the great Silver King
been more annoyed than when this unwelcome
intelligence was made known to him.
“ What in blazes do the company mean by at-
tempting to run a railroad in this one—horse
fashion?” the millionaire demanded. savagely.

“ You run trains over the road, don’t you? or,
maybe, you make your passengers walk from
station to station!” ‘

Now the agent did not feel particularlv good-
humored. for he did not at all relish" being
aroused from his slumbers in this unceremonious
fashion, and not being acquainted with the mil-
lionaire, was not inclined to stand any “ sarse ”
from him.
“ Say, I reckon you better buy out the road
and run it to suit yourself, seeing as how you
are so durned particular,” he responded.

“ I’d do it in a moment if the ‘ plant ’ was
worth anything,” endragon answered, instant-
ly. f‘ But; I reckon I’m not soft enough to in—
vest in a line which only consists of two streaks
of iron rust and the right of way.”

“ W'ell, hang me! if you ain’t about the loud—
est—talking man that I have run across in a dog’s
age!” the agent exclaimed. “ Why, stranger,
you couldn’t put on more style if you owned this
hull dumed town l”

_ “ I reckon I’m able to buy about a dozen towns
hke. this if I choose to invest in such trash," the
millionaire rejoined.

. “ \Vho may you be, anyway?” asked the man,
impressed by the commanding manner of the
other.

“ My name is Pendragon—”

‘ ‘ Larry Pendragon !” cried the agent in amazeL
ment, for by reputation the great Silver King
was not unknown to him.

. “ That’s my name, young man: you hit it
right7 the first, time; count one bull's—eye for
you.

The agent was all attention and civilit * now.
for Larry Pendragon was not a man to bgtrcafl
ed with disrespect. .
“ I hope, boss. , you‘ll excuse me for speaking
so pertly to_you, but we have so many fresh cus-
tomers coming round hyer putting on airs that
we have to be kinder sarcy or else we wouldn’t
have any peace of our lives,” he explained.

“ Oh, that’s all right,” the millionaire respond-
ed, m his bluff, off-hand way. “ No offense in

 

 

“With the aid of the electric spark I shall

the world, I assure you; but I’m in a hobble

! have plenty of time to warn the Mendozas, and
when this mysterious road—agent presents his or—
der instead of delivering to him my tin trunk
with the United States bonds, they will have an
pair of handcuffs

caused him to clap his hands together in a joy—

can.”

" I’ll be rlad to do anything I can for you.”

" But 1 don’t understand about this telegra h
business. Ain’t you rumiing trains oVer t 8
road?”

" ( )h, yes."

“ How can you run them on a single track
without a telegraph!”

" Easily enough; there’s only one train a day
each way; in fact, only one train, for she leaves
here at five in the morning, and comes back
from Cuchara at five in the afternoon, so thar
ain’t much danger of a collision.”

“Is there no way by which I can get a dis-
patch through to Santa Fe ?” Pendragon asked.

“ I don’t really see how the trick can be done
boss," replied the man with a. dubious shake of
the head. “The telegraph sharp ain’t no good
at his key as long as he is wrestling with this
fever.”

“ I’d give a hundred dollars to get a dispatch
through to Santa Fé!” the millionaire ex-
claimed.

This liberal offer caused the railroad official t<
open his eyes. '

A hundred dollars for a message was a trifle
ahead of time.

“He couldn’t do it, boss!” the man declared.
“ A thousand dollars wouldn’t be any tempta—
tion. He’s right down on the flat of his back
and ’bout half the time is as crazy as a bed-
bug.”

“ But is he the oiin man in the town that un-
derstands telegraphingf‘ Pendragon inquired.
“ Surely in a place as big as this there must be a
stray telegrapher lying around loose.

“ )urned if thar ain‘t!” the station-agent
cried, abru itly. "I never thought of it until
you spoke; ut thar’sa galoot in town who let
on to me once that he was a boss telegrapher.
Mebbe he wasn‘t givinor it to me straight,
though. He’s a tumbler-juggler at the Metro-
polian saloon.”

“ A barkceper?” observed the Silver King.
“Yes, and he kin sling the fluids around as
well as any man I ever see’d ahind a bar. If he‘s
as good at a telegraph key, you don’t want to tie
to a better man.”

“ How soon do you su pose you can get him
here?” Pendragon asked, impatiently.

“ Oh, right away; the Metropolitan is an all-
night place. always open, you know; it’s just
across the way, and I can get him to run over
without any trouble, for he’s a right nice kind of
a cuss.

“ Jest you wait hyer, and I’ll have him over in
a brace of shakes!”

And the depét master caught up his hat and
hurried out.

The conversation had taken lace in the shanty
which served as a depot, an in one corner of
which the railroad agent had a bunk, while the
tele aphic instrument occupied another corner.
“ ighty strange!” the millionaire muttered
to himself. “I wonder if this infernal scoun-
drel who has set out to skin me, knew that the

 

tele pher was laid up, and calculated that I
won (in t be able to send a message I”

“ I’d ive a hundred dollars if O’Ballahoe was
here. e’s just the man to devise some way to
get out of a hole of this kind.”

The millionaire had become accustomed, in all
difficult cases, to rely upon the shrewd wits of
the Irishman.

The station agent was as good as his word, and
in five minutes’ time returned, bringing with
him a thick—set. rather flashin dressed individ-
ual, who nodded respectfully to the millionaire,
having evidently been informed by his com-
panion in re rard to Pendragon’s identity.
“Mister im Smith, Mr. Larry Pendragon,”
said the depOt master, introducing the bar—
keeper.

“Jimmy, hyer, says he kin send a message as
well as any man that ever tapped a key.”

“ Oh, yes, I ain’t forgot my old biz,” said Mr.
-Smi1thll, in a confident tone. ‘
“ give a hundred to get a message throu h
to Santa Fé !” Pendragon remarked. g
“ Oh, that’s all right, Mr. Pendragon; I won’t
charge you a cent as far as I am concerned,” the
other replied, m animously. “ Glad to have
the chance to ob 'ge a man like you. Meth
might want a favor one of these days.” '

message through as soon as you can. as it is in-
portant.”
“ I’ll do the best I kin,” and the barkeeper
seated hunse' If at the instrument.
“ I’ve Igot to ‘ call ’ Cnchara, for the operator
there Wi have to take in from me and then send
by the way of El More and Trinidad; this is
only a branch line, you know.”
“Yes, yes, go ahead.”
The operator began, tapping the key in that—
to the bystander—apparently random way com-
mon to the masters of the instrument.

After a minute or so of this proceedin the
Klara wheeled about in his chair and shooi his

ea .

“ Vl’hat’s the matter?” asked Pendragon, anx—

iously, comprehending that something was

wro .

“ Hgary Santa Fé will you reach to-night over

this line,” answered the operator.

“ Why not?”

“ The wire is down somewhere along the line
—in contact with the ground, and won’t Work.”
“ Are you sure?” cried the millionaire, amawi
at this intelligence.

“ Oh, yes, there isn’t the least doubt about it.
Locating such a thing as this used to be mybest
holt when I was in the business, and I never had
to take a back seat for any man I ever saw. The
wire is in contact with the ground, and nary
message can get through until it is fixed.”

“ It is cut, perhaps.” blurted out Pendragon,
impulsively.

‘ Like as not,” the other responded indifferent—
ly, for to him the fact that the wire had parted
bore no particular meaning.

“ Such things will happen, you know; atree
may have been blown down and fallen acrom the
wire and so smashed the consarn.”

“ Yes, a tree,” muttered the millionaire be-
tween his clinched teeth, but in his heart he felt
sure that it was not a tree that had tampered
with the line.
The road-aggnt had calculated that the electric
spark might utilized to warn the banker at
Santa Fe not to give up the valuable tin trunk.
and had either cut the wire himself, or employed
a confederate to do the trick.

“ Isn’t there any way to
through?” Pendragon exclaim beginning to
get excited, for the idea of being fleeced by this
audacious road—agent was galling in the extreme.

“ Can’t you find out where the break is in the
wire and have it fixed .3”

“ Not much,” responded the other; “ wh , the
darned thing may be twenty miles off. I); will
game’s regular lineman to put it in working or-
. er.

“ I’d give a thousand dollars rather than not
get the message through!” the millionaire de-
clared.

.This announcement did not produce any par-
ticular impression. for neither one of the men
credited the statement.

.The citizens of the Great Wild “'est are so
given to extravagant assertions that their say-
ings must always be taken with due caution.

I “ The best way for you to do, Mr. Pendragon,
is to take the morning train to. Cuchara, and
telegraph from there,” said the dcpdt master.
After considerable deliberation the millionaire
came to the conclusion that this was the only
thing to be done.

Tine, this would give the road-agent about
eighteen hours’ start, but mortal man on the best
of horses could not not cover two hundred miles
in that time.

In the morning the journey was made. and at
noon Pendragon walked into the telegraph office
at Cuchara.

. “ Nary message,” said the operator; “ the wire
is down.”

(To be continued—commenced in No. 114.)

———____

exget a message

 

“ YES,” said the deacon, “our Heaven! Fa-
ther_ knows all our inmost thoughts.” “ hen,”
replied Fogg, “He must be pOSsessed of a deal

 

of worthless information.”

 

 

v

~. .~,._......a.)l« .. A...”

  

here, and I want you to help me out if you ‘

“I’ll do my best to oblige you. but get the ' '

 

.. a. ..- A... 0....-. mam-u...

   
       
      
    
    
     
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
    
 
     
    
   
 
  
    
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
    
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
    
   
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
 
   
 
  
    
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
    
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
    
  
 
   
  
 
   
    
   
  
  
 
   
  
  
   
  
    
      
   
    
  
   
 
  
  
   
     
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
 
   
  
 
 
   
     
  
 
  
   
 
  
     
 
  
    
    
   
   
 
    
  
  
 
  

  
 
  
  
  

. Wm-.. ..~..« .... .

  
 
    
     
      
 
       
     
 
 
  
 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. /\\\

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

(.

   
 

If“. a .m-