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Tina; .

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The rumor of my death was a false one, as you
. W

see.

“And gladly I welcome you back,” and
Colonel Decatur grasped the hand of the Gmde—
Scout.

“ ermit me, also, to congratulate Mr. Rad-
cliffe. His unex )ected appearance startled me
strangely,” and art Gra 1am stepped forward.

“ But you are ill—you are scarred up and
wounded! Come, you must have rest, and tell
us all about it another time. Call the surgeon,
Graham,” and Colonel Decatur and the baron
led the scout into an adjoining room, wherehe
s u down upon a bed, for he was suffering
2;: ) I 't-ly and very weak.

‘ The surgeon soon arrived, and the wounds of
the Trailer were prOperly dressed, after which
he sunk into a deep seep. ~

Then Colonel Decatur sought Helen’s room.
She expected him and was awaiting his comin v‘.

After the greeting was over the colonel sai ,
quietly: .

“ Now, Helen, tell me what all this means.”

 “ I will, father—I will tell you all,” and Helen
told how she had desired to see the grave of the
Death-Trailer, and had urged Lulu to accompa-
11 her.
y“ Does the Guide—Scout know of this, Helqn?”

“ Ho knows only that I went with Lulu [0 see
where her mother was buried, and being near
the 3 ct wo mi ht see his grave, too.”

“ lpam glad, elen; I do not wish you to ap-

r unmaidenly.”

“ Nor will I, father.” .

Then Helen told the whole story as it had oc-
curred, and when she had finished he drew her
to his heart and said:

“Helen, I don‘t wonder that you love that
man; but you must be careful.

“ Though he seems all that is noble and. good,
we 'et know nothing regarding him. His past
life 18 a sealed book to us all, and here he may
wear a mask to conceal from us some deep mys-
tory connected with his life.

' Beware, my daughter, beware!”

Helen romised; but what girl ever attempted
to stem t e tide of love when once it began to
flow upon her heart!

She could not resist the im ulse that made her
love this unknown man, am during his illness,
which lasted for weeks, she was his most faith-
ful nurse.

Her father watched her with jealous eye, and
hoped all would yet come well; but at his heart
was a dread of coming evil.

(To In continued—connnenced in No. 426.)

The Little on Lady.

BY MA'I'I‘IE DYER BRITTS.

 

 

 

IT was near the close of a windy April day,
when Blanche Davenport and her friend, Laura
Carow, came out of Arnold‘s store, and found a
soft mist beginning to fall in the cloudy, windy
street.

“It’s going to rain, Certainly,” said Laura.
“ We had better hasten home, Blanche, and
leave our call for another da . ’

“ I t ink, myself, we had,” returned Blanche,
who had come up from her beautiful home on
the banks of the Hudson to spend a few weeks
with her friend Laura, in New York. “ I think,
myself, we bad. But we must go out to-morrow
afternoon on pu to call on Mrs. Vander-

vere. Ma was particular that I should see her
soon after I came to the city.” '

“ Well, I'm glad of the chance to go with you,”
said Laura, “ for . Vandervere is so select
and exclusive that it is quite an honor to be on
her visiting list.”

“ Have ou never met her?” asked Blanche.

“No. y mamma has not the privilege of
being her old and valued friend, as your mother
has. But I know she,is very peculiar, as well as

accomplished—always dresses very plainly,

We of her wealth, and has odd notions about
6’11 . .ty and all that. But she’s a perfect lady,
I assure you! I'm only too glad to make her
acquaintance under your protecting wing.”

“ I‘ve never seen her myself,” confessed
Blanche, “ but ma. always loved her very dear-
ly. Though I’ve heard so much of her, I ima-

ine she must be ver haughty and stately, and
Ifeel half-afraid of or. Oh, Laura! it’s going
to rain hard! What shall we do s”

“ \Ve shall fly to a street-car for refuge! To
be sure, the cars are apt to be crowded with the
‘ great unwashed’ at this hour, and especially if
it is about to rain, but they are better than a
wetting. There comes a Sixth avenue car—let’s
burr l

They gained the car, laughing and flushed
prettiiy with their hurry. It was almost en-
tirely full, but they found two vacant seats, and
hastily took them. They were pretty to look
at—these two girls. Laura, a bright-eyed bru—
nette, sparkling and piquant; Blanche, a tall,

ure blonde, with long, soft golden—real golden
air—and the sweetest mouth and tenderest
e es you ever looked at. She had a pure, gen-

e, uns oiled nature, too, with not a trace of
city hol Owness in her genial ways.

Alas, why is it that so few of society’s gay vo-
taries remain thus unspoiled?

. The car had hardly moved three blocks before
it stopped again, to admit another passenger, a
little, plain-looking old lady in a cheap water-
proof and a green vail, somewhat wettcd by the
now fast-falling rain.

The little old lady looked around, but the car
was quite full. She reached up, took hold of a
strap and began to stand up patiently. In an
instant Blanche was upon her feet.

"Take my seat,” she said, cordially, “I can
stand better than you.”

" I could not think of it, young lady.” rc-
lied the last passenger, with a slight shake of
er head.

“Yes, I insist!” scirl Blanche, gently pushing
the stranger into h I” seat. “ Besides, l sha’n’t
have to stand lozi '. You see if I do!” And she
gave a laughing, «--;piical glance at her new ac-
quaintance and a . .aura, who, as the old lady sat
down, gave a p tuish grimace, and drew her
dainty skirts av. ' y from contact with the cheap,
damp waterproof.

The old lady saw the action, and herself
shrunk further away, saying:

“Excuse me, I am fearful I may wet you,
young lady. I was caught in quite a shower,
and 1 am quite wet.”

She spoke so courteously that Laura blushed
slightly for her own little rudeness, and turned
to look busily from the window, only answering
by a sli ht nod.

Blane e was right—she had not held to the
strap a. moment when two or three gentlemen,
who had not thought of offering a seat to the
plain, little old lady, Sprung up to oblige the
handsome young girl.

Blanche took the seat nearest Laura, with a
“Thank ou, sirl” and a bright smile for the
plain wor ing man who gave it. Laura leaned
toward her, and said, in a half—whisper, with a
little air of vexation:

“ Now see what you’ve done! Got yourself
of]? there and left me here with Noah’s aunt for
a neighbor!”

The little old lady’s face flushed, and Blanche
felt iure she had heard Laura’s thoughtless
s cc .

pg Hush, dear! You might hurt her feelin ,”
she whispered, gently. Laura shrugged fer
prettv black silk shoulders, but said no more.

A few squares further on the little old lady
rose to get out. As she passed she said to
Blanche:

“Thank you, my dear young lady, for your
kindness to a stranger.”

Blanche bowed and smiled and the little old
lady passed out into the night. For the lamps
were already lighted, and it was quite dark
when the two girls reached their own street,
and ran the few blocks that were left through
the April rain which wept fitfully as the Wind
rose and fell.

But a warm supper and a good night’s rest
freed their warm, youthful blood from all chill
of their little wetting.

Bright, rosy, and pretty as ever, the two girls
took their seats in the Carew carriage the next

 

[ day, to call upon the wealthy, high-bred and I

exclusive Mrs. Vaudervere, the widow of a i
noted general, and the old friend of Blanche
Daven )ort’s mother.

A co ored bell-boy admitted them to her door
and showed them into a luxuriant parlor, where
plain unostentatious yet costly elegance per-
vaded all the ap lointmunts. .

They gave their cards to the waiter. Ho said
his mistress was at home, and he would find out
whether she was enga red. He left the hand-
some parlor, and short y returning, informed
the young visitors that Mrs. Vandervere would
be down presently. . i _

The girls amused themselves With admiring
some beautiful pictures which lay for inspection
upon a malachite table, while waiting for her.

Very soon a soft footstep sounded along the
hall, a small, slight figure entered the parlor,
and—

“ My dear young lady !” exclaimed a not quite
unfamiliar voice; and Blanche sprung to her
feet, cryin r, " My dear old friend!” in delighted
surprise. ‘or the little old lady Who had ridden
with them in the street-car, the day before, was
no other than Mrs. General Vandervere!

Blanche, her lovely face all smiles and dim-

les, went eagerly forward and took the kind
Bands Which were cordially held out to her.

But poor Laura, remembering her rudeness in
the car, blushing and silent, sat wishing herself
a hundred miles away.

Mrs. Vandervere, however, hor greeting to
Blanche over turned to Laura, and held out her
hand with tlfi unmistakable graciousners of a

“ We] in door, you didn’t expect to seo me.
did you! Nzither did I expect to see you. But
since we have both met what we didn’t expect,
‘ Noah’s aunt’ will forgive what she knows was

'nothing more than youthful levity, and we will

be friends.”

Laura’s blushes turned to vivid scarlet, and
shame dyed even her fair white throat. But
Laura’s heart was in the right place, after all,
in spite of some errors of city training. She
rose, and said, frankly:

“ I beg your pardon a thousand times, Mrs.
Vandervere! I am heartily ashamed of my
rudeness yesterday. But I think it will be a
lesson to me. I’m sure I shall never be guilty
of the like again.”

“ Then we’ll say no more about it. We all of
us have these little lessons in lifetolearn. I am
sure when oung people learn how ratefully
their kind little attentions are receive by those
older, they will bestow them freely, whether to
a fine dress or a plain one. Be seated, young.
ladies. You must both stay and dine with me.
I take great pleasure in the society of young
people, and I think I know how to make it plea-
sant for them.”

Laura felt that she did not deserve this kind
cordialitv. But it was, indeed, a lesson in true
ladyhood to her. And the next time Laura
Carow sees a plain, little old lady in a street
car, she will treat her as politely as if she were
a princess.

 

ON THE GUYANDOTTE.

I! WILLIAM TENNYSON HILTON.

 

 

In thy flow thoro’s a dirge-liko sound,
And at night on thy shado'vy st rand,
Long-loved voices I seem to hear—
Voices sweet from the spirit-land;
Calling afar from the other shore
Where gorgeous in ruby. ohd go d,
The sun has set in an amethyst use
And twilight hor mantlo uni-oiled.

Beauteous art thou In the dusky hour,
As far thi ough somo wild ravme,

Moonlight falls on thy rock-gin. wave,
And stars twinkle o‘er the scone.

 

Or, when in the summer-time’s rosy down,
From of! thy bosom the mist

Floats away ’mid the lonely hills
By the beams of morning kissod.

Other livers may echo e mightier song,
Winding far 'mid their storied scenes,

Boasting of shrines and holler tunes—
The goal of fair fanc 's dreams.

Yet the wandering win 3 from old Arno‘s vale,
Or the zephyis from Etna’s brow,

Wafting their fragrance from isle to isle,
Whisper of none more lovely than thou.

Joe Phenix,
THE POLICE SPY.

A story of the Great CIty oftllo Weutern “'orld In tho
lIght and In the shade: In the broad glare of the
noundny Inn and under the ollver beams uI‘ tho
noun: a tale ofthe men who prey, shark-“lie,
upon lhelr klnd, and of the noel-ct bl .od-
hounds ortheJIW, who, through many
a dcvloue, wlndlng way, hunt tho
wlly vIllulns down to thclr
dark, dlnhon-med graves.

 

 

 

BY ALBFIR'L‘ W. AIIiEN.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE ORDER OF GROWLERS.

“'ITH a wary eye the lice spy scrutinized
the faces of the men wit in the cellar; he be—
lieved that he would be able to pick out the lead-
er of the desperadoes at the first glance, but his
search was a fruitless one; either Captain Shark
was not within the apartment or else be over-
rated his detective p0wers, for no one in sight
answered to his idea of the captain.

The men within the cellar, who were scatter-
ed in little groups, conversing quiet] together,
raised their heads and took a good 00k at the
newcomers.

Noddy, he Peddler, was evident] no stranger
to them, for nearly every one I] (led to him,
but the searching looks they bestowed upon the
police would have been apt to have chilled
the bl of any man less daring than he, and
lacking the iron will of this bloodhound of the
law.

But Phenix was as confident of the complete-
ness of his diguise as mortal man could well be,
and not a single tremor of fear thrilled his mus-
cular form as he stood, helpless and alone, a
single man against a dozen desperate villains, in
the den of the outlaws.

“A new pal, boys,” said Neddy, introducing
the disguised spv. “What did you say your
name was, mate! ’ '

“ Long Bill,” replied the spy, in the husky
tone of voice which he had assumed in conjunc-
tion with his disguise.

“ And a worry appropriate one!” exclaimed
one of the gang, whose peculiar tones suggested
{it once old London and tho famous bells of

ow.

“ Are you true~bluo, old man, and warranted
not to cut in the eye, nor to go back on opal
in danger?” cried another one of these birds of

rev.
p “ Oh, you kin depend upon me!” the tramp
replied, earnestly. “ I’m jest the man to tie to
when it comes to trouble. I’m on the cross,”
and then again the disguised spy used the mystic
 which had before been of such service to
1m.

“ Yes boys, he’ll do, I reckon,” Neddy said,
seating himself at the table, and motioning the
tramp to a chair. “ Bring out a bottle and give
him a drink.”

One of the gang produced a bottle and a
glass from a sma trunk which stood in one
corner of the cellar and placed them before the
tramp.

“- ow drink sucoem to our club, old man."
Noddy continued, “ and don’t spare the liquor.”

“ A club, eh!” exclaimed the spy, keeping up
his assumed character as he spoke by filling out
a glass of whisky, and most certainly be obeyed
the injunction of the peddler, for he filled the
glass to the brim and then t055ed it off at a
single draught. without even so much as wink-
ing; a feat which excited profound admiration
arnon ‘ the lookers—on, who mentally admitted
that t e ragged and unsavory tramp had as fine
a swallow as they had ev'er seen.

 

“ Yes, sir, our club the United and Inde-
pendent Order of Growlers, and this is our head-
quarters.”

“ And a might comfortable lines it is,
too!” the disguis spy exclaime , sagelv, at
ihe same time casting a scrutinizing glance
around the cellar. He was anxious to learn if
there was any other means of entrance into or
exit from the underground den besides the
stairway which he had descended. Apparent!
there \\ as not, for the rude stone we]. of the (-e -
lar was unbroken by door or window, exce t-
ing where the stairway from above descen ed
into it.

“ Yes, my tulip!” Noddy exclaimed, with a
knowing shake of the head, “it is about as neat
a hole as such rats as we could find an where."

“ There’s only one bad thing about it,” the
tramp suggested, wisely.

“ Indeed, and what is it?"

The peddler was su rised by the observation,
as indeed were all t e rest of the gang, and
they awaited the tramp’s explanation with eon-
siderable ourio» Qty.

“Mcbbe I‘m wrong thong ,” the spy replied,
with a sudden assumption of modesty.

“Let‘s hear what you are trying to get at,
anyway I” cried one of the gang.

“Yes, spit it out, ’cos we think that this is
about the finest meetin’-room for en‘lemen in
our line of business on top of this ere oar-thy”
cried another.

"Go ahead, pal!” sung out the peddler, en-
com‘agingly. " I reckon that you‘ve got chunks
of wisdom in that head of yourn.”

“ Well, t'urst and foremost, is there any other
way to git out of here, s’posen a man wanted to
in a hurry, ’sides the way I come in!”

“ Oh, no, of course not!” Noddy cried in-
stantly, but the keen-eyed spy noticed that the
peddler as he spoke wmked knowingly at the
rest of the gang, and therefore on the instant he
felt convinced that there was some other outlet
to the cellar best as the stairway.

“ Well, gendemen, as I was a—going to say,
s’posen the police got wind of this here place,
and got in at the front door and hem down the
stairs there, why, you’d all be caught in a trap,
jest like so many rats.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the peddler, and the
rest of the gang joined in the mirth.

“ Oh, you’re up to snuff, you are!” Noddy ex-
claimed !‘acetiously, when the merriment had
subsid .

" X es, I reckon that Lon Bill knows a thing
or two!” the spy excaime in exultation, pre-
tending to acre t the pe'idler’s remark as a
compliment. “ ain’t one through life with
my eyes shet like a blin puppy I”,

“ Oh, you’re a downy cove!” another\me of
the ang remarkc d.

“ ou ought to have two or three ways to 't
out of here, somewheres,” the tramp persis

“Well, old man, to be honest with on, you
ain’t the only fellow in the world that got a
head on his shoulders,” the ddler said.

“ 0h, then there is anot or way outi" The
spy was sure of it, and he felt extremely anx-
ious to discover where it was situated, for he
plainly foresaw that even if the lice succeed-
ed in gaining an admittance at t 8 front door
and capturing the man on guard there, thanks
to the instructions which he had given them;
yet it would take some time for them to break
in the heavy door which barred the entrance to

the cellar at the foot of the stairs, and which .

was so carefully guarded, and it was certain
that if there was another Way out of the cellar,
the- outlaws would easily escape while tho 0m—
cers were breaking in the door.

“ Oh, yes, my pippin!” Noddy exclaimed.
“So don’t you be alarmed: your precious car-

 

cass ain’t in no danger whatsomever.”

‘.‘ But, I don’t see any way to git out,” the
disguised spy persisted, again taking another
(213211 look around at t 0 apparently solid
w

Again the outlaws lau hed.

“ ho! you’re too fres , Mister Man!” cried a
burly ruflian; “ you mustn’t expect to know all
the secrets of the club afore you’ve done any-
thing to prove that you’ve got the right kind of
grit into yerl”

" Oh, I ain’t a-tryin’ to pry into your secrets,”
the tramp replied.

“ N o, it wouldn’t be health for you to do so,
till we’re willing you shoul ,” the peddler re—
marked, significantlv, “ but take another drink,
old man, and don’t bother yourself about h0w
to get out. If the ‘cops’ come while you’re
here, I’ll go bail to get you out.”

“Fairer nor that couldn’t be said,” the spy
observed, sententiously, and be excited the ad-
miration of the gang by taking another huge
drink of the potent liquor, but so tensely strung
were the nerves of the spy with excitement that
the fiery fluid had no more effect upon him
than so much water.

CHAPTER XXX.
CAPTAIN SHARK.

THE outlaws shook their heads gravely as
they witnessed the wonderful drinking powers
of the tramp.

“ I reckon that you’d break a distillery inside
of a month with that swallow of yourn, ’ one of
the rufiians gravely remarked, and in a rude
chorus the rest aSSented to the o inion.

“ Has the captain been in yet.“ Noddy asked.

“ Not yet,” one of the gang replied.

“ It’s time for him.”

“ Yes, I guess he’ll be here soon.”

The spy had listened to the conversation with
intense interest, although feigning perfect in-
difference.

Of all men in this world, this Captain Shark,
the unknown leader of these desperate men,
was the man he most desired to meet.

“ The captain will be here soon.” Noddy said,
addressing the tramp, “ and when he comes,
he’ll explain to you exactly what he Wants you

 

o.

“ Oh, I’m fly for anything!” the s y exclaim-
ed, pretending to be slightly under tge influence
of the strong liquor of which he had partaken
so freely, although in truth it had not affected
him in the least.

Hardly had the tramp spoken when there
came two taps upon the door, followed after a
moment‘s interval by the ring of metal upon
me .

“That’s the captain now, I’ll bet!” averred
the peddler. ~

The burly rufiian of whom we have spoken,
and whose dut evidently was to attend to the
door, advanc to the staircase and opening the
door, admitted a tall, well-built man, closely
wrapped in a dark overcoat much the worse for
wear; his face was covered with a black mask,
over the top of which a dark felt hat was
pulled, and from under the mask a huge, jet—

lack beard escaped.
~ All the members of the gun bowed respect-
fully es the man entered, an the spy essed
at once that this man, disguised with sue cam,
was not only the skillful leader of the band,
Captain Shark in person, but that he was an in-
dividual of some consequence, or else he would
not have taken so much pains toconceal his per-
son. So complewa was his identity disguised
that even the keen-eyed spy was forced to ac-
knowledge to himse f that he would never be
able to identify Captain Shark if he should
chance to meet him in the street, stripped of his



be long black heard he felt sure was false,
and it was probable, too, that the curly black
hair which escaped from under the felt hat was
also false.

The moment that Captain Shark was fairly
within the room be cast a searching glance at
the tramp, whom he recognized as a stranger
upon the instant.

The peddler, perceiving the scrutiny of the
captain, made haste to introduce the tram“.

“This is the man, captain, that will under-
take the little job you want done,” he said,
slapping the tramp on the back as he spoke.

‘ All right,” the captain observed, in a harsh,
grufl" voice, whose tones, despite the speaker‘s
elforts to disguise them. were extremely famil-
iar to the ears of the spy, and the moment he
recognized them—for recognize them he did at
once—his heart ave a wild, fierce lea for joy.

At last he he (1 within his hand tie thread

 

which would lead him through all the mazes of
the lab rinth which this arch-plotter had so
careful y constructed around and about his so-
crut.

But, despite the quick throbbing of his pulses
and the fierce desire which he felt to at once
tear the mask from the face of Captain Shark
and denounce him, not a single trace of all this
wild excitement Could be discerned in his face'
he was the sleepy, stolid, half-drunken old
tram to the life.

“ it down and make yourself comfortable,
old man ” the leader of the desperadoes con-
tinued; ‘ and bring a little fire-water, boys, so
that he can wet his whistle.”

The captain took a seat at the head of tho
table, while one of the gang pushed a stool to-
ward the tramp, which he at once proceeded to
take possession of, and squatted down upon at
the foot of the now festive board. rendered so
by the appearance of another bottle of liquor
and some glasseS‘ .

The captain poured out a small uantity of
whisky into his glass and then ush the bottle
over toward the tramp, with t e remark:

“ Help ourself and don’t be afraid; don’t
shirk the fluid; dad b fl d

“Iwont, t e spvrespon , rie y,an no
more did be, for be filled the tumbler to the very
brim, and drank the potent contents at a single
swallow, without even a wink, much to the sur~
prise of the assembled rascals, who unanimously
voted the tramp to be a first-class poison—h’istor
and they were all good judges about this sort 0
thing.

The draught was potent and strong enough to
upset the senses of most men, even though
hardened drinkers, but so strong was the nerv-
ous, mental excitement under which the spy
was laborin that the fiery liquor produced no
effect upon im at all.

“ The deuce!” muttered the captain under his
breath, “ this fellow has got a head like iron!”

“That’s pooty rood stuff, cap’nl” exclaimed
the tramp, care y wiping his mouth with his
ragged coat-sleeve. " I shouldn’t mind owning
a bar’l or two of that stinger.”

“W'ell, now to business,” the chief said, ab-
rupt! ; “I’ve got a little job I want done. Do
you t iink that you’re the man to do it?”

“ thy, cap’n, you kin bet your bottom dollar
that I’m your catamount fer any kind 0’
scratchin’.’

“ No matter what kind of scratc! in’ it is!”

“It don’t make a bit of difference to mo so
lon as I get jolly well paid for it 1”

" hats your name!

“ Well, I’ve got a dozen: which one do you
want!” the tramp asked with a grin. (

“Any one you like.”

“ Long Bill is my latest handle.”

“ Long Bill? I ell, that will do. You are on
the cross 3”

“ Oh, I’ve served my time up the river! I’m
no slouch, you kin bet rocks on that, and what I
don’t know ’bout the cracksman’s lay, ain’t
worth knowing!” he cried, boastfully.

“ You don’t seem to have rofited much by
your know] , to judge rom the looks of
your clothes,” hark remarked.

“ Down on my luck, cap’n—down on my luck;
the best on us will git that way once in awhile,
you know, an’ s wh I’m up now toany-
thingthatofl’ers; so jest ve meochsnoe—that’s
all I want! point out the job and see how neat
and workmanliko I’ll do it. Oh! you kin trust

me, on hot!”

‘ you willing to t your head in tho
hangman’s noose!” and tain Shark leaned
over on the table and fixed ' eyes earnestly on
th? $108 of the :tram” a) p. dad, a

‘ es am e spy rospon romp y
and de antly, keeping n his assume: charac-
ter: “ that is, provided am well paid for itd
and that there is a sight for me to get my hon
outag’in. Of course, I in no foolto risk thestono
jug for life, or maybe a dance upon nothing,
without seeing that there is a fair show for my
mono .”

“ ’l‘ at’s understood, of course,” the captain
replied, with a sagacious nod of the head as
much as to say that he appreciated the wisdom
of the speech.

“ P’int out the job then and let me know jest
exactly what you want done, and when it is to
be done, and how much I’m to get for it, and I
reckon that we’ll fix the matter in a 'iflfy.”

“ Aha! I see that you’re a man of usinessl”

“ Oh, you kin jest bet I am!”

“ Do you know a man called Walling?”

The members of the gang stared at each other
and at Captain Shark in su rise, but the tramp
did not manifest any astonis ment.

“Walling—VVallingl” be repeated, reflective
1y. “ Well, now, I think that l’ve heard that
name somewhere, but where on earth was it?”

“ Never mind; he is the man I want settled 1”

CHAPTER XXXI.
AN UNEXPECTED PROCEEDING.

MORE and more amazed were the outlaws at
this bold declaration. Walling, the head of the
great police force of New York! To coolly bar-
gain to take the life of such a man as though he
were a mere nobod who could be knocked on
the head and into the East river with as
little ceremony as if he was only some drunken
countryman, wandering by night, dazed and be-
wildered in the dark and deserted streets along-
shore; w y the very thought was astounding!

“Oh, well, I reckon that I kin do it,” the
tram replied, confidently, never betra in by
the ‘ghtest sign that he knew who VaIling
was. “ How much am I goin to git for the
job and where will I be able to d the man?”

“ One hundred dollars.”

“One hundred dollars!” cried the tramp, in
astonishment, affecting, with rare ability, to be
amazed at the extent of the sum.

“ Yes; that’s the money.”

“Oh, I’ll do it, in course 1” the 8p cried,
quickly. ’ “ A hundred dollars! W'hv,l’d stick
a man any time for ten. provided there was a
show for me to git off without the perlice git,
tingirlold 011: me,” ha

“ lrig t; itsa rgain, then!"

“ Oh, you bet!”

“ ThisWalling is the superintendent of the po
Iic‘e gfipagltmeng of the city of lifew York.”

‘ e azes eis. gaspedtet-ram lain
back in his chair and staring at Captall’i 
with blank dismay written on his face.

And so well did the disguised y act his part
that the rufiians laughed until t e tears came
intogheir le es ftéiis comic dismay;

‘ ’es, 0 pa ; uperinten ent ' of the
New York Police Department is theamngman I want
you to tackle. ”

“ Well, reall , boss I don’t knowas Pm bank-
ering arter sic a job as that,”the tramp ob-
served, slowly.

“ But you acce ted.”

“ Yes, but I di n’t know who the man was.”

“ Is it possible that when I said Walling you
didn’t know I meant the police superintendent!
Didn’t ou know he was the chief of the police!”
deman ed the  sharply. ’

“ I told yer t at I thong t I’d heered the
name afore, but I ain’t been in New York for
years. time I war hero Kennedy war the

- ” the tramp explamed' .

“ en you don’t want to take this job!”

“ Oh, 've me something easier, Cap.”

“ I rec on that you’re only a chicken—hearted
mew] after all,” the outlaw remarked, expm
ing his contempt by his looks.

“ No, I ain t!” the tram cried, sturdily.
“ I’m pluck to the backbone, lint I want a show
for myself. \V'hy, the cove that should stick the
police boss wou'dn't have no place in this country
m3- inpany other; he’d be hunted down jest like
a 0g

“ And you don’t care to risk it!”

“ Not an in mine, thank you!” returned the
tram , wit a grin.

“ I ell, we’ll let that job pam. I’ve got
another one for you, and the party is nothing
but a police spy, this time.”

“ 0h, I’ll risk that, Cap!” was the ready reply,
with a face brightening up.

“ Some difference between the chief of police
and a common spy, eh?” '

“ Oh, I bet yer. ’

“ The man’s nameisPhenix—Joe Phenix; you
never heard of him, I suppose?” and Captain

 

  

Shark favored the spy with another glance as
he put the uestion, and so curious was the look
—so full 0 suspicion—that for o. moment tho
spy believed his disguise had boen netratcd,
but he soon repelled the idea, for e was cer—
tain that neither by word or expression had ho
been incautious.

.“ Phenix! Oh, yes, I’ve heered of him—seen
his picter in the papors, too, though I novor run
across the man.”

" He’s the fellow I want settled.”

“I’ll do it, but how much! A hundred for
him i”

“ N o, fifty !'

“ Oh, Cap, you ought to mako it a hundred l’

“ No; only fifty, and that’s more than tho
thin is worth.”

“ ut, he’s a precious big feller; no small job
to git away with him.”

“ That’s so; he’s just about your size,eh1” and
as he put the question the chief of the outlaws
favored the  spy with such a peculiar
look that again the suspicion that his secret had
been discovered came to the daring man with
redoubled force and he began to think that ho
had incautiously thrust himself into a trap
from whence to escape would bo difficult if not
impOSsible. But, as tho culiar look vanished
:1th immediately, an it was too clearly im-
possible that his disguiso could bo detected ox-
cept by a miraclo almost, tho spy breathod
freel again.

" 0, old pal, fifty is quite enough," the chief
continued, “ and it will not ho a difficult '0b to
get at this Phenix, for he is a foolhard ollow
and sooner or later he’ll ho a t to run Iris head
into our very den here, and t en you can cook
his gpose for him without any trouble.”

“ h, I’ll do it; you can jest hot on mol" was
the boastful rejoinder.

“ No doubt; and then I’vo got another hit of
business for you to ottond to, and you must sot
about it to—mght.”

“ I’m your man!‘

“ Take another drink, for you’vo got o long
and dangerous journey before you,” and as ho
spoke Shark pushed the bottle over toward tho
tram

p.

And as the spy filled up his glass to the brim
again his watchful eyes, ever on the alert, al-
though apparent] taking no heed of what was
goin on around 'm, saw an ex ression of as-
tonis ment gather on the faces 0 the rufflans;
first they looked inquirineg at each other and
then at their leader.

The quick—witted spy was not slow to guess
that, in the apparent y careless observation of
Ca tain Shark, “ a lon and dangerous journey”
be ore him, some we] understood si a] had
been given by the leader to his band, ut that,
for some reason, the gang were in doubt how to
act upon it.

The truth was lain now to the sp ; he was
discovered, or at east suspected, and e at once

repared for action.

“ Drink hearty!” Shark exclaimed, after o
slight pause; “ the whisky will brace you up for
the long and dangerous journey before you."

Again the si 9.! was given, and this time tho
outlaw chief s ' htly contracted his brows and
nodded, althoug almost imperceptibly, toward
the tramp.

With every sense on the alert, and yet oppo-
rently as cool and unconcerned as possible,
Epy tossed of! the liquor, no more feelin tho

ery draufilgt as it washed out his dr tfiroal
thanif it (1 been so much pure an limpid
water.

“Acct-tail) man hosgotto bo decoyed to a
certain place, and a certain message, which ho
expects, will do it,” Captain Shark said. “ Can
you write?"

 

2A littletTnoltl. much.” an m
pparen yt e spy was 'vmg' ' amen-
tion to the outlaw chief, glut he had his eyes
about him and noticed that three or four of tho
gang had quietly risen and posed to the back
of his chair' .

Now he understood what the si' a] meant; ho
was to be surrounded and ' when Shark
age the word. In some mysterious way he had

11 discovered

“Well, a little will do; writo as well as you
can,” and shark pushed a scrap of pa 1' and a
pencil ever to the tramp. “ Write: ‘ A 1 right; I
am inside!’ ”

The myste was out now; these were tho
very words t at the spy had written on the

rap of per which he had tossed down by the
outSide oor.

_t lCaptain Shark, instead of the police, had found
1
(To be continued—commenced in No. 420.)

 

Plucky Sallie.

AN EPISODE 0? THE PRAIRIE FARMS.
BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, J3.

 

 

THE wind was howling furiously. The snow
was falling in blinding, smothering sheets.

“They won’t be back to-ni ht,’ said the old
man, who sat before the owing fireplace.
“ Nor Harry won’t come, neit er.”

He twisted his head around to catch a glimpse
of his daughter’s face as he spoke of her lover
but a sharp can chased away the shrewd
smile and punished the jester. Poor old Simon
Hill was a victim to inflammatory rheumatism.

His daughter Sallie started toward him at t] e
cry of pain, but just then a loud knock at the
kitchen door startled them both.

“It’s mother and Seth l” cried Sallie, but ere
she could reach the door, it was flun rudely
open and two men entered, shaking t e snow
from their persons in a miniature avalanche.

A single glance was enough to show that they
were both strangexsiland, passing them, Sallie
struggled to close t e door against the fierce
blast of the storm. Simon Hill politely saluted
the men, though he felt that cold draught tear-
ing at his enfeebled lungs, and sharpening the
rheumatic fingers that c osed upon every nerve
and muscle until the exquisite torture was more
than even his iron will could resist.

A quick glance passed between the strangers
as the old armer fell back into his easy-chair,
his face white and distorted, sweat-drops of in-
tense pain dampening his brow. Neither Sallie
nor her father noticed this, or the wayfarers
mat not have been made gingite so welcome.

llie cooked supper for men, while they
explained to Simon what and who they were,
where they were bound for and why they were
belated so far from town. The story they told
need not. be repeated here, because after events
proved it all to be a lie, but the story was told
so smoothly that neither father nor daughter
felt the faintest suspicion that all was not right.

The storm continued with unabated fury, and
when it grew so late that there was no anger
hopes of the missing members of the family re-
turning that night, Sallie showed the stran ers
to their room, bade her father good-night, t en
sought her own chamber.

But, not to sleep. Partly because of the
storm, partly because this was .the first time
that anything had caused
break an appointment with her ce their en-
gagement, six months before. And then, there
was a vague sense of coming trouble resting
heavily upon her mind, and it was long ere her
too active brain began to yield to the drowsy

The deep bell-note of the old clock striking
twelve rung in her ears as she started up in bed,
wide awake, every sense upon the full alert.
What the cause she did not know, but she felt
that there was danger impendin . She listened
in breathless silence. She hea the door of the
room assigned to the strangers open and close,
then heard the faint creaking of the stairs bo-
neath their cautious tread.

Without a thou ht of danger to herself, Sal-
lie slipped out of and hastily threw on her
clothes, then left her chamber and stole silently
down the stairs. The hall was unlighted, but
she was too familiar with the building to make
a misstep, and so reached the door leading into
the big sitting and dining-room without a sound

 

to betray her progress.

 

 

‘- ,, t
wk H