ais 7 ee CSG Se 2 no eee —_—_—___—_——_——————————— ‘A STRIKE FOR RIGHT LIVING. BY LOUISE 8S. UPHAM. {have made up my mind and Pll do & at last; No longer shall fetters and chaius keep me bound; The yoke of my bondage far from me Vil cast, By dastung this poison-brimmed cup to the ground. Men ofteii strike now for short days and high pay, And nations rebel against Tyranvy’s sway, So I'M strike for a name, and a place among men, For death to my foe, for true mankoo] again! You ask what has happened ?_ I was staggering along Through the dim-lighted streets, a few nights ago, And was singing these words of a bacchanal song: “Though dread may be searce, yet the cup shall o’erfiow!" When a stranger said: “Friend, I entreat you to come And rest for awhile in our Temperance home!” I went, and was glad, and can give thanks to-night, For a hope that is making my future all bright! I was tattered and bloated, too loathsome to stand Among noble men who for charity meet ; Yet me, a poor drunkard, they took by the hand, Ang talked with me kindly, with words pure and sweet— Galied me friend, called me brother, and made me forget That I once was forsaken, and a wanderer yet; And I grew strong in knowing that any one cared What home or what fate a poor drunkard shared. I was ragged—they clothed me in raiment all whole! Discouraged—they placed a sure prep at my side! I was hungry—they fed both my bedy and soul! I was weak—they taught in whose strength to abide! So fallen, so lost, I scarce knew what to do; But I signed their brave pledge, and my pledge shall be true! And my wife? That night, when I entered my door, And told the good news, she torgot all her cares, And fell on her knees at my feet on the floor, And cried, “Glory! glory! God has answered my prayers!” Then she lifted her e: dimmed with tears, to my face, And clasped me in her loving embrace. Oh, the thought of of that rapturous hour Shall keep me for aye from the Tempter’s dark power! And my children? They read in our looks some great joy; Sol showed them my pledge, and they shouted, “He’s signed! ; Father has signed the pledge!”?, And then Robby, my boy, *Round my shame-stricken face his little arms twined— Laid this wan cheek to mine, and with quivering lip, said: “We can always have pennies now, can’t we, for bread f And papa, when you come we can run to the door, And not be afraid, and not hide any more!” Then { fokied him close to my grief-smitten breast, And said, ‘Robby, my boy, you can trust father now! I am Jearning to walk in the way that is best— I am striving to biot the shame-mark from my brow! "Foo long have 1 lived a drunkard’s sad life— Too long I’ve degraded my children and wife! But while Reason shall hold a firm place on its throne, So long, with God’s help, I’ leave liquor alone! Aad V’il strike for right-living, for a place among men, For the love of my race—for true manhood again?” Orah Nelson; Weise HOM, sda —————————— THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. => i stay and take a cup of tea with us this afternoon. Per- haps you wou’r want to stay after that.’? This was not a cordtal invitation, but there were several reasous why the gentleman saw fit te acceptit. Ue was somewhat fatigued, aud would prefer returning tothe village later. He wished to see what woukl be served at teas and, moreover, he had great faith in his ability to prodnce a favorable impression upon his hostess, He was accustomed to have his own- way, and rarely met with one who could withstand his influence, Mrs. Truman led the way to her sittung-room, and there left him to entertain himself, This was nol sucha room as story-writers often de- scribe, with six upright wooden chairs piaced square aguinst the wall. On the contrary, there wére rockers, high and low, arm-chairs which seemed waiting to be occupied, and a luxurious lounge inviting to repose. In- stead of one braided rug upon the painted floor, before a cherry table, there were several rugs that served io pro- tect the home-made woolen carpet which had been part of the owner's wedding outfit. The table. draped with a damask cover, was spread with books and papers; a work-basket occupied a small siand by the window; and, allogether, if was as pleasant a room as one wouid wish to see—just the place in which to rest and dream. So thought Louis Bowker, and was consequently de- sirous to occupy it at his pleasure. He had already com- menced to dream when Mrs. Truman opened the door and invited him to come out and take a cup of tea. Into the dining-room he went, where he found a neatly- spread table. He wasan epicure, in his way. aud fasti- dious to a fault, but there was nothing to offend, THE TEST OF PRINCIPLE. By Mary Dwinell Chetlés, Author of OUT OF THE FIRE, AUNT DINAH’S PLEDGE, THE TEMPERANCE DOCTOR, AT LION’S MOUTH, DEACON SLMS PRAYERS, OLD SUNAPEE, Este. CHAPTER I. *“Vho was that woman that went through the meadow this morning ®? asked Mrs. Priscilla ‘Truman of her hired | mug, as she called Justus Wyman. “1 saw Deborah Nelson by the landing,’ was the reply. ‘Perhaps she went across the meadow.?? “Of course it was her,” exclaimed Mrs, Traman, pour- ing coffee as she talked, “There isn’t anoiher wonjan in town would go streaking the wet grass that time of day. lf Debby Nelson was my girl, she’d have something else todo, But she’s always had her own way—at home as welt as here. No wonder she carries on as she does.” “J lave heard her called a superior young lady,” re- marked Justus Wyman, quietly. ‘The children at Down's Hotfow ciuim strc ts aimost an gan vereeeenre ; “Perhaps she is, but she dows look much like it to me. Have you ever seen her’ now ed the woman, turu- ing to a Garelessly-dressed genWeman at her right hand. “{ have seen several pretty young ladies since | caine here,” he replied. ‘I don’t know whetherI have seen the one of whont you are speaking or not,”? “Likely you have. Sne’s out doors most of the time. You couldn't go furin pleasant weather without seeing her.’ “She must be a young lady of taste. It always seems strange fo me that people will stay in-doors such glorious summer wether as this.’? A spirit of contradiciion may have moved Louis Bowker to ahis response, or a glimpse of verdure-crowned hills impressed him wilh a new sense of Nature's glory. “Bomebody must stay in ihe house, or there wouldn't be much covking done. Folks must have something to eat,” said his hostess, a lite sharply. “That is very true; and there is certainly one woman who stays in the house to good purpose, This breakfast is a luxury.” Mrs. Truman was mollified at once—indeed it was quite unusual for her to manifest anything like ill-temper. She had some opinions of her own about this girl, Debby Nel- son, set at defiance, aud, as this same Debby Nelson wus spending the summeron the next farmto her own, it Was’ only natural Wat she should be interested in her movemeits, The compliment she had received changed the current of her thoughts, and, while she was calculating the exact value of pleasant words, Mr, Bowker lad Lime to think of the name he had heard. ‘Debby Nelson,’ he repeated mentally, with, it must be confessed, something like disgust. How any one could tulerate such a name was beyond his comprelhen- sion, aud he was just wondering how its possessor could look, when the hired Man asked a question about the ‘east jot’? ‘“‘Won’t it be best to commence mowing in the east lot to-morrow? The grass is ready to cut.’? “Oertainly,”? was the reply. ‘Don’t let it stand too long. Isuppose Jolin can come then ?? “Yes. Isaw him lusi evening, aud his work is pretty well done at home, It is time we begun on the grass.”’ “We shall have a good crop this year,” remarked Mrs. Truman, in a tone of self-congratalation. “I want to see the barns full.’? “You'll see that this year, if I am not mistaken in my calculations; and, saying this, Justus Wyman rose from the table. Mr. Bowker lingeren, sipping his coffee leisurely, and his hostess felt consirained by polileness to remain with bim, alihough there were at least six things she wished to do within the next half hour, It was a waste of time to do this, since, had he taken the trouble to think of it, he would have preferred being alone, When he went out into the hall, she closed the door be- hind him—closed also the blinds of the dining-room win- dows, and commenced what she called her forenoon’s work. The gentleman, however, had no work; he was entirely at Jeisure, with days and weeks before him, in which he need consult only his caprice or pleasure. It seemed to his friends a strange caprice which sent him to this country town for the summer, It could only be accounted for by the fact that he desired a new sensa- tion, and being something of an artist, fancied it would be delightful to study nature, unirammelied by conpan- ionship. Stopping first at the village hotel, he took long walks over the surrounding country. In one of these walks, attracted by the old, widely-branching trees which stood like sentinels ovec against the house of Mrs. Truman, he paused to rest beneath their shade, Seated upon a rude bench, Which seemed placed there for the benefit of pe- destrians like himself, he Could look into the pleasant home opposite. While thus looking, it ocenrred to him that he was thirsty, aud going to the kitchen-door of the house across the road, he asked for a glass of milk. Invited to enter, he had ample time to look around, and found the kitchen attractive. After slaking his thirst he was in no haste to depart, and, somewhat tired of his village quarters, he at once decided to test the comfort of boarding on a farm. But Mrs. Truman had no desire to increase her family and her cares by taking boarders—and_ she said this frankly, The haying season was at hand, and there was Only herself to do the work in-doors, Besides, city people were different from country folks, and he would probably g00n get lired of her way of living. She couldu’t set but one table, and he wouldn’t be willing to eat with the workinen, though they always came in Well washed and clean, as she assured the geuNeman, ‘7 don’t like dirt, only enough to make things grow; and I want that where it belongs,’’ she said, “My hired men know that,’? Everything Mr. Bowker heard and saw only made him more anxious to become an inmate of this house; but there was ahother reason why Mrs. Truman was uuwill- ing to graut his request: he was a,stranger, of whom she knew nothing save what he had himself told, and it would be entirely at variance with her accustomed prudence to take such @ person into her family. . She suid this, too, as frankly as slie had. spoken of other considerations, -It was unfortunate, but Louis Bowker had not an ac- quaintance wilhin twenty miles; Consequently, he could apply to noone for a character, “Tam willing to pay my bourd in advance,’’ he said, at length, smiling. “| shan’t allow that,” replied Mrs. Truman, smiling in turn. “I could board you all summer without pay, and not know the difference at the end of the year. You can If the good lady of the house had counted upon this as” being the last time her guest would wish to sit at her table, she was mistaken. Yet they had left the dining- room before any allusion was again made to boarding or being boarded. ‘Truth to tell, the hostess ad been sv ab- sorbed in conversation that she quite forgot such dis- agreeable subjects. Justus Wyman considered that ire had been highly favored, and only wished he could hear the Genes seer ere eo . sR RD toad , ‘Wiil you allow me to take tea with you te-morrow asked Mr. Bowker, a8 he rose to leave. “| never turn any one away hungry,’ was the reply. “Then, if 1 shouid come before dinner ?? * “I suppose *twould be all the same, but I shan’t make company of you.’? fe “And could you find room for my trunk and alow me to speud the night?” 5; , “I suppose Icould. But you might as well come out plain aud ask me‘to board you, if thav’s what you mean.” “That is just what | mean,” replied the gentleman, “You can set your own price, and J] will eudenvor not to 4 be troublesome.” “I suppose I shall let yon.come,” replied Mrs. Traman. “But it’s the last thing I thought of when I saw you sit- ting on the bencit Opposite. Justus can go over for your trunk after he has done the milking, and you might as well come to-night as any time.” This was better than he expected, and he waited to ride over with the young man, whom he found a pleasant companion. Before nine o'clock he had taken possession of the east front chamber, and considered himself in luck. As yet, there appeared but one drawback to his new-made ar- rangement. Breakfast would be ready at six o’clock, and he was expected to eat at that time. This was very early for him, and he lay down with the feeling thar, afterall, he might fail to wake in proper season. But some orioles, wliose dainty nests hung from the swaying branches of the old elms, made iti ssible for him to sleep after the first gray light appeared in the east. In vain he tried not to hear, and with a muttered malediction upon throats which never tire, was about re- signing himseif to his feet, good-naturedly, when the free concert closed, There was work to be done. Father bird and mother bird must seek food for their nestlings, Mrs. Truman laughed at the amusing description of this trial with the birds. ; “They have sung here every year since I was married, and, 1 presume, a long time before,’”? she said, “When they stop I know it’s time for me to get up.’ Mr. Bowker had been roused from his slumbers by the orioles’ songs three successive mornings previous to the one on which he is introduced to my readers, By this time he was quite at home in his new quarters, and began to feel an interest in what transpired around him. As yet, Justus Wyman was the only man employed on the farm, but more were expected through haying. There was a large amount of grass to be mowed, and Lo do this, even with the aid of labor saving machines, would require several weeks. Mrs. Tru:nan was so much occupied in preparing for the following day that she quite forgot Debby Nelson. But the gentleman, whose curiosity was excited by what he heard at breakfast, did not forget. He walked down to the big elm which grew near the river bank. al; bnt i think it sounds quite as well as Debby. busin Orah,don’t your? «— - ‘“]am nota good e, being quite accustomed to one name, while the otler is new tome? ~~~” Mrs. Lyou’s entrance interrupted the conversation, and all were seated round the table, Tuen, while@ substantial brenkfast was | fae were disqussed. “Do you see . : “No “1 shoukin’t like it { much, of your anta girl of mine bronght up so,’ she said, but she had no girls, and comsequently Could not be quite certain of this, ; The old Jady heard her patiently, and carried the matter to grandpa. She wanted to do right by Martin's girl, if she only Knew wliat right was, meee laughed and shook his head playfully, as he us + “Guess we will let Debby run 2 while longer before we tie her up. We never had any girls, we inanaged our boys so they’ve turned ont well, and tuman nature is pretty much the same. We might ask the littie girl what she thinks about it herself. Come here, Debby!’ then called the old man; and directly the child sprang from a low seat near the hencoop, where she ad been watching mistress Biddy and her brood. Med ih - ! A moment after she was standing by her grandfather. “We have been talking about you,’? he said, smoothing back the dark brown hair, which lay in wavy masses above a broad, pure forehead. Ria tee ‘ ae I been good?” asked the owner of this brown air. ‘ ay “I don't know but you have. Guess you are always good,” answered grandpa, looking fondly at the child. “But how would you like to stay in the house all day— have your stint, just as Jittle girls use to, and only go out an hour or too in the afternoon ?? “I shouldn’t like it at all,” was the quick reply. “I should want to go right straight home, and never come here again in the world!” “That’s just the way I thought ’twould be,’ said the old gentieman. ‘‘Now you may put on your tiick boots and we will go alter a load of hay. 1 wouldn’t trouble myself any more about what the neighbors think,’ he added, turning to his wife, who sat near. Yhus was the question settled, and Grandmother Nelson allowed the child to come and go at pleasure. Ten years had passed since tien, and Debby had visited the old farm nearly every suminer; happier than she would have been at a fashionable watering place. She was sure of this, and she was well qualified tu decide, hay- ing made experiment of the same. She had been a delicate child, with pale face and droop- ing figure, but she now rejoiced in the possession of firin health. Iler figure was erect and graceful; her face flushed with the warm blood, which each strong pulsa- tion of the heart sent bow! through her veins. It mattered not that her cheek grew brown ’neath the ardent kisses of the sun. She reveled in its beams, drawing new life from every ray Which glanced athwart her path. In this slie presented a striking contrast to Mabel Lyon, yet both faces were attractive. Mabel ad no taste lor out of door exercise, and woudered how Cousin Orah could find pleasure in climbing mountains a exploring forests, Yet these two young girls were much together, and being of nearly the same age they had many sympathies in com- mon, Then, too, there was enough of relationship be- tween them to warrant perfect freedom of intercourse, Grandfather Nelson was Uncle Jolin to Mr. Lyons, and his wife was Aunt Debby, or grandmother, as she chanced to be addressed. In the annals of the townthere was 2 record of the birth of Deborah Swelt, and the old family Bible contained a similar record, But no oue ever thought of calling her by this grand old name. She was Debby in her child- hood’s home, and in that otier home to which John Nel- son had taken her a young and happy bride. Aname good enough for her, was good enongh for anybody, as Mr. Lyon would insist, despite his daugiter’s reinonstrance. Debby Nelson was called to see the new- fashioned mower, admire a span of matched horses, and give her opinion as to their fiiness for the saddles. Mabel made a pretense of accompanying her, but this called forth a great laugh. The idea ob pretending to know any- thing about such matters was simply ridiculous, Let it not be imagined, however, that my heroine, Deb- by, or Orah,as you may please to designate her, was wanting in any of the delicucy or refinement which goes to Make up atrue woman, ‘That she was feminine I can- not say, for, afier all the use of this word, lam unable to decide upon its real meaning. I only know that those who saw her most loved her best, and that she had a na- tural aptitude for doing whatever seemed to be her duty. She could make butter, but she would not. have chosen butter making as a profession. She preferred sketching to sewing, and found @ good book better Company than a foolish talker. She never depended upon others when she could as well depend upon herself; and she had positive ideas upon most subjects to which her attention had been calied. Her grandfather said she could drive a span of horses as well he could himself, and we have been told that she understood the management of a boat. Bmw there was another phase of her character. She was highly educated, Not only a thorough but a brilliant scholar, She had reigned queen among her schoolmates as she was queen at home, where three brothers, older than herself, well nigh worshiped her. Mrs. ‘Truman had not overstated the case in saying that this girl ‘had her own way at home,’’ but so long as it was a way which pleased father, mother, and brothers, there was no reason why others should complain. Not a wish of hers was: allowed to remain ungratified, and it yas only a wonder that she had not been utterly spoiled. ie Was not) or children loved er. Her presence x, Lyon’s family as to iris alike found her enter- ‘here were loud remon- taping -and- compassionate. - strances against her gojng home that evening, but she had promised to make a visil with grandmother the fol- lowing day. “You will be in time if you goin the morning,’ said ne. «Time for the visit, but there may be some work for me to do,” she replied. ‘Aunt Becky was complaining yes- terday, and the haymakers have wonderful appetites, I can come agai almost any day, but I must go home this evening.” Some threatening clonds, which sent every man and boy to the field, sent her to the river earlier than she had intended. “Better go back to the house,” shouted Mr. Lyon. “The shower will be upon you before you reach home.” But the boat was more comfortable than it would be after a heavy shower, and the advice was unheeded. She had cause to regret this, for, with her best endeavors, aided by the current, she had made but a small part of the distance when the storm burst upon her. Blinding flashes of lightning followed the reverberating peais of thunder, yet she held the oars firmly, although sometimes closing her eyes to shut out the dazzling glare of light. Insome places the river was broad and deep, the wind blew strongly, and it required no little skill to keep the boat well on her way. Yet this yonng girl was neither fearfal nor timid. Awed by the sublimity and grandeur of the scene, she uttered a prayer to Him who rides upon the storm and holds the winds in His hands, while she relaxed not her grasp of the oars, Swiltly, steadily she was nearing the home landing. = The water was no longer deep: ‘there wasa lull in.the storm, and the only difficulty was in keeping the boat in the proper channel, i Its fair occupant was congratulating herself upon soon reaching shelier, when one who watched her anxiously saw the oars drop from her hands as a deafening pel of thunder was accompanied by a more terrific fiash than any which had preceded it. A moment and she sank for- ard to the bottom oO f the boat, now drifiing aimlessly. Alter an early tea, Louis Bowker had gene down to. thie oer ane following up iis bank, reached the old boat- ouse justas the clouds began to marshal themselves in storm array. Absorbed. in watching them mass and un- fold, their brassy edges sometimes clearly defined and sometimes obscured, he forgot the purpose for which he had sought the spot. He gazed upon this panorama of shifting cloud scenery, entranced and spell-bound, until the heavy drops of rain warned him to seek a shelter. He entered the rude house, and seated himself upon a bench, from which he could command a view of the river for nearly half a mile. " When the boat first appeared in sight he felt gure it was Miss Nelson who ocenpied it, and his heart gave a quick bound at thought of her peril. Yet, while fearing for her safety, he could not but admire her skill and apparent coolness. Danger seemed passed when came this most feartul bolt, and, as though he had waited its coming, he sprang ab once to the shore, aking in the whole situation at a glance, he saw that the boat would naturally drift near the landing. Calcu- lating time and distance accurately, he took a few steps in the water, caught the boat, and drew it up the bank. It was but the work ofa moment to make it fast. Then he addressed himself to the task of removing the body, which jay like a heap of tumbled clothing upon the wet lanks. ' Carefully, tenderly he lifted it, turned back the drenched hat, and looked into the sweet, pale face. _ It might be the face of the dead, yet there was no trace of pain on the rigid features. 7 ‘The rain beat pitilessly npon this man and his precious burden. He tfeltit not for himself, but for her who lay cradled in his arms. Tie boat-house offered them shelter; and, gently as @ mother lays down her sleeping infant, he laid the body of Orah Nelson upon the rough bench. Re- moving her hat and gloves, he chafed her temples and lands, clasping the latterin his own warm palms. He could not ieave her to go for assistance. He would not believe her dead. He pressed his lips to hers again and again, breathed into the half-open mouth, holding her closely, as thongh he would give her of his own vigorous life. Had he ever prayed he would have done so then, as he waited in an agony of suspense the result of his efforts. Yet what was this unconscious body to him? Others might mourn should the spirit never return to it, but Why should he? Why should he indeed? Hedid not stop to question why. Ie oniy knew that a shadow would darken his whole future way if this woman should never recognize him. ; At length there was a faint quiver of the eyelids, and a tremulous motion of the lips against his own. In a trans- port of joy, forgetting all else but that she would live, he covered her face with kisses, Slowly the hazeieyes opened as. the unstopped ears caught the word *Darling!? No wonder the young girl gazed with something like fear into the face which bent over her. She liad been conscious even before she could give sign of consciousness. But everything was confused. She seemed to have been dreaming, and, unable now to command her thoughts or her movements, she was com- pelled to siience. The discomfort of her own position, and the awkward- ness of lier companion’s, could hardly have been greater. Her first impulse was to rise, but she had not strength to do this. She wished to speak, but her tongue refused to perform its office. ; “I chanced to be sitting here when you were coming down the river,’ said Louis Bowker, endeavoring thus to open a conversation which must be commenced in some way. Agasp, which told: how the heart labored to re- sume its accustomed functions, was the only response. “Let me help you tosit up,’? he said, in a tone of def- erence: and suiting the action to the word, he raised Miss Nelson from her recumbent posture; but she could not sustain herself for a moment. Sitting down beside her, he gave her the support she required. One arm was around her, and her head rested upon his shoulder. Yue storm still raged, bending the stateliest trees, sweeping down the mountains and through the valleys, like an angel of destruction. Yet the fainter glare of lightning aud the sullen roar of more distant peals of thunder showed that the forces were retreating, and calm was at hand, Mr. Bowker was considering how his fair companion would reach home, when she startled him by saying, in a faint voice: ‘Il am sorry to be so troublesome.’’ “You are not troublesome,” he replied, invoiuntarily, drawing her closer to himself, and bending to seal his words With a kiss, j With a quick motion she turned her face from him, and endeavored to escape his embrace. “Pardon me,” he said; “I had forgotten that we are strangers. It seems an age since I brought you here from the boat,” lier face was no longer averted, but, mantling with blushes, lay close to his own. Orah Nelson owed her life to this man, and with that thought. she recognized his claim upon her. They had been strangers a short time before, but they were not strangers now, nor ever would they be again. He touched his lips reverently to her forehead, and sought for proper speech with which to address her. She was first to recover self-possession. “I think Lean sit up. Please let. me try,’’ she said. He removed his arm, yet held himself in readiness to prevent her falling. Will for a moment conquered weak- ness, and she rose to her feet. That was all. It was well there was one to care for her. Had he not given her of his own life? Who could wonder if he clasped her in a loving, passionate embrace? \TO BE CONTINUED. } LIVE FOR SOMETHING. BY E. NORMAN GUNNISON. Live for something! up! be doing! Sit not down with fulded handst Steadfastly thy way pursuing, Wield the hammer, till the lands! With thy strong right-arm demolish Walls of ignorance and crime; From thee every wrong abolish— Write thy name upon thy time! Speed the plow that clears the stubbie From the darkened human mind; . Persevere through toil and trouble, Gain the blessings of mankind. Forward! in thy noble labor, Ever faithful to the end; Think each man thy brother-neighbor, Be of human rights the friend. Baise thy brother who is falling, Lead him back to wisdom’s ways, From the paths of error calling, Peace shall crown his future days. Think that though his feet have wandered, And his past you must regret— Thongh his talents he has squandered, Still he is thy brother yet. Eook thou forward for the dawning Of a bright, a glorious day; Labor for a happier morning; Be thy metto—“ Watch and pray!” Clouds are gat! ering, mercy laden, Blessings scatter o’er thy way; Press thou toward the blissiul Aiden See! above thee dawns the day! Live for something! look above thee! Let thy course be upward still! Give the world some cause to love thee, And some holy task fulfill! ; Forward! in thy noble labor, Ever faithful to the end; Think each man thy brother-neighbors Be of human rights the friend! THE ONLY GENUINE NICK WHIFPLES. Nick Whiffles, re Eee hae THE TRAPPER GUIDE. By Dr. J. A. Robinson. [“Nick Whiffies” was commenced in No. 18. Back numbers can be obtained from any News Agent 1m the United States.) CHAPTER XXVII. A NOCTURNAL THEFT. awakened by 2 decided tugging at the bridle-rein; but with the exception of thisinterraption, he slept profound- ly till the sunbeams kissed the like in the morning, Saul Vander was awake, patiently wailing the conclu sion of his protracted rest. Le started up, blushing at his own delinquency. “You have slept well, lad, and T believe all young peo- ple sieep well,” said Saul, with a smile, “Too well! too well!’ he answered, with embarrass- ment. “To close my eyes, under such circumstances, was inexcusable.” “Not so, young man. Captured and robbed of sleep ag you have been, it was scarcely in the power of human hatur to resist its approaches during the long hours of night. Formy part, Lam glad that you have had what you so much stood in need of. I noticed, while you was usieep, somethin’ which you haven’t named or complains ed of—a pretty severe contusion upon tke head. It was a wicked blow, boy, that! You ought to mention it, you understand.” “| have no right to complain to one who has fared far worse,”? Kennet reptied. “1 noticed some ugiy marks on your wrist, too, which area good eal swollen, They tied you tight enough, I should say. Ah! we'll pay them off for their tricks yet. By-the-by, I haven’t seen the horses abeut here. Real trap. per animals that have been trained as they have, gener’ ly come inio camp in the mornin’.”? “Hi go after them; they have found better pasturage farther off, probably. Calamity, 1 will not keep you in restraint longer; your patience is nearly exiiuusted, I see. Well, every creature loves liberty, dogs as well as men.?? Calamity darted off the instant he was freed. Kenneth lovked at Saulbinguiringly, who sad: “Poller biml? whieh suggestion he obeyed. The dog rau along the mmrgin of the Jake till he react. edan open spaee covered with grass; there he paused, smelled of the ground and barked. Kenneth was soon beside him. Stopping, he beheld the impress of a human Ob. “What! he exclaimed, ‘Tlas an enemy been so near during the night? Poor vigil, indeed, have i kept! Phis dog would have served far more fuithfally had 2 let hin alone. Where are the horses, 1 wonder?” The last question was not one likely to be soon solved. The aniinals were notin sight, and there was every rea- son to believe that they had been stolen. Ie traced moc- easioned footprints across the plateau, on the margin of which they were singularly blended with horse-tracks, There were Marks to show that the thief had mounted one of the aniinals from the trunk of a fallen tree; for he had left sigus on the yielding rotten wood, The matter was now clear; Kenneth was left with his wounded com- panion without the means of traveling. Calamity, hav- ing evidently made up his mind in regard to the affair, sat down quietly and studied the features of his present master with an intensity that proved that he also was in- terested in what had happened. “They are gone!’? muttered Kenneth. “To run after the thief, on foot, would be folly indeed. I must return with this discouraging news to Saul Vander.” The dog expressed his opinion of the transaction with complaining growls diluted with bark. He invited Ken- neth, in dog-language, to pursue the otfender; but declin- ing the well-meant offer, lverson returned to Saul with the disheartening intelligence of their loss. The guide bore it with true trapper philosophy. “?Tain’t the fust time,’? he said, ‘that I’ve been sarved in that way. Many a fine horse have they stole from me, onetime and another. Iallers eudeavored to keep the account square with ’em, however. Two can play at that kind o’ thing, you know. I remember on one occasion I helped Jim Beck wourth—everybody’s heered of Jim, the Ytarnalest liar that ever set trap or pulled trigger—stam- pede more’n fifty at one lick. But that won't do us no good now. We'’reinruther astraight place, I take it. The varmints have got our animals, and our skulps Il be the next thing they want. It won't trouble ’em much to take mine in my present crippled state; though I feel ever so much better than f did last night. 1 rather think I can walk about some on a pinch. ‘There! do you see that 2p? This exclamation of triumph was the result of a suc- cessful attempt on the part of the guide to arise and walk, although his steps were not of a very strong and reliable character. ' “T have thought of a plan,” said Kenneth, ‘which I think will meet your approval.” “Let’s hear it, lad. - Out with it; and arterward T’li tell you of an idee of my own.” “J propose,” resumed Kenneth, “to build a raft, and put out to one of the islands in the lake; or even to cross it, if it should seem advisable, This will give us a chance to break the trail, at least; and in our peculiar situation, thatis much. If we can gain two or three days’ time, it will put yeu ina condition, 1 am sure, to bear the fatigue of traveling on foot."? : “The very idee Lwas about to mention! You can find plenty of material hereabouts that you can cut with your hatchet, and fasten together with willies, If you are skillful in that way, you can build it substantial enough and high enough to keep us with dry feet.”? “You shall see what 1 can do,” answered Kenneth, and commenced operation at once. The young Kentuckian worked with:so much good will and to such purpose, that a:raffp. was soon constructed of dimensions sufficient to support the weight of the parties, Without sinking enough to wet their feet. Upon one end of this, Kenneth placed some boughs for Saul to lay on; he then cut a pole to push it, with, as long as he could touch bottom, and shaped a couple of tolerably wielded paddles, to be used in deeper water, n wish? said the guide, “that you could get a look at that hill over there to the northeast. ‘The dog has been turnin’ his nose up in that direction for some. time, I’ve been watchin’ him as [ laid here like a broken trap or o crippled rifle.: I can use my eyes, if nothin’ else, you un- derstand,” said the guide, as Kenneth finished the last paddle. ¥ “Those wonderful members sometimes do more than I will climb that tall pine, and it is pos- hands, or feet. 4 able to see the sible in that elevated position I may be hill distinctly,’’? Kenneth answered. F : Although: the strain on his muscles gave him pain—his limbs being yet sore from the effects of his short but vig- orous captivity—he mounted the tree with less difficulty than he had se¢retly apprehended, From the top hie ob- tained a view of the -hill in question; it was sparsely cov- ered with shrubbery. At first he could perceive nothing to excite suspicion, and was about to descend, when, low down, near the base of the eminence, he saw an object in motion, A second look assured him that it was a human figure, and a third, more protracted and piercing, that it was an Indian. He wasinno hurry to leave his place of observation. A careful reconnoisance revealed others who had before been concealed by the bushes. They fol- lowed the first in single file toward the level below. He had by this time seen enough to convince him that the wily Blackfeet were on the trail, and hastened from tree. : me Tao" by your Jooks that yon have seen somethin’, said Saul. “You've a disheartenin’ expression, lad; but there are few difficulties thata Teller can’t in some Way get te better of. Howsomever,” he added, philosophi- cally, when you can’t do no better, just leave me and shift for yourself,”’ 4 oft Once during the night, young Iverson was partially’ nha?