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“ You will do as I order, sir, for if you are a band of cut-throats, and I a‘surgeon

 

‘N l HITE BEAVER,

 

The Exile of the Platte;

 

Or, A WRONG-ED MAN’S RED TRAIL.

A Romance Pounded upon Incidents in the Border Life of Frank Powell
the “ Doctor Scout.” late Surgeon in the United States army, and
now the “Mighty Medicine Chief of the Winnebagoes.”

 

BY HON. WM. F. CODY—“Buffalo Bill.”

 

CHAPTER XIX.
THE RESCUE.

Tm: volley fired by Janette and the black cowboys
under her command, was thoroughly well aimed,
and completely demoralized the Indians, especmlly
as they saw their foes charging upon them at full
8 ed.

pKnot her circumstance to aid in the demoralization
was the fact that their enemies were black men, led
by a young girl, and one who had so cleverly es—
caped from them when they believed they had her
in their power.

This band of Indians, from the northern country.
had never seen a negro. though strange stories were
told in their tribe regardin them. _

At first they had believe them to have their faces
blacked, but a red-skin who sgoke English, after the
capture of Major Monkton, ad asked him regard-
in: them, and had been told that they were really
black-skinned, with a few addition :1 facts, or
stories, about them, which would have greatly sur-
prised the colored cowboys had they heard their
master‘s words. ‘ .

What the major said was.quickly interpreted by
the English—speaking red-skin to his comrades. and
the result was that all seemed to feel a kind of su-

rstitious horror of the black cowboys, and would

ave put their white prisoner to death for thus ex-
citing their fears, had he not, suspecting the plot,
told them that the black horsemen With him were
but the advance-guard of a large army that would
trail them to their villages if one hair of his head
was harmed.

It was in this superstitious humor that Janette
found the red-skin band, and. after the deadly fire
of the black cowboys, and their wild charge it is not
to be wondered at that the Indians were attacked

 

go flying off alone, for no one in particular seemed
to have it upon his mind to take charge of the minor
at such a moment. _

Seein the animal dart ofl', Janette rode rapidly
towardfiiim, while the black cowboys pressed hard
on the heels of the flying red-skins. _

To catch the pony and release the maJor was but
a few moments‘ work, and then takinga small bugle
that hung about his neck, and which the red-skins
had not robbed him of, believing it some medicme
charm. the ranchero sounded a recall for _his men.

It was a. running fight, hotly ressed, With the ad-
vantages on the side of the sab e ranchmen, for they
had killed several of the red-skins, while only two
or three slight wounds had been received upon their
side.

Having accomplished the rescue of their master
and punished the Indians, upon 1188an the recall,
Zi gave orders for the return, and, Wit a shout of
tr um b, they went fl ing back over the prairie.

“ VVgll, my dear eh (I, we are quits, for you have
saved my life,” said Major Monkton, warmly, as he
grasped Janette's hand, when he had sounded the
recall upon his bugle. .

“I am so happy to have served you, Sir; but ‘1,
could have done nothing without your brave men,
answered Janette.

“Nor they without you, for I am confident you

lanned the pursuit, for Zip is reckless: and would
have charged in pell-mell and lost, for it was your
deadly volley that hurt them, as four Indians and
two ponies fell dead, and several were wounded un-
der it.

"I tell you, Janette, that was as well-planned as
any officer at the fort could have done it.

“But here are the boys and we Will get back to
the ranch, for I have a little wound or two that is

 

The black cowboys just then (lashed lip with a
cheer, and the major called out:

“Welldone, boys! You covered yourselves with
glor , that time.”

“ be brave young missy showed us how, sah," de-
clared Zip. ‘

“Well, I will appoint her as your captain in fu-
ture, for I am getting too old to follow such wild
riders as you are," said the major, with a smile.

“T’ankee. sah! an’ we is glad to hab Captain
Missy; hain‘t we, boys?"

Zip’s question was answered by a hurrah and the
wavmg of sombreros, and the major said:

“Now, Captain Janette, you are in for it as an old
man’s ward and the leader of the black cowboys!“

Janette blushed, and her lips quivered; but she
answered:

“ I thank you, Major Monkton—”

“ FatherMonkton now, my child."

“Yes, sir, it shall be Father Monkton, for I feel
that I have indeed found a father in place of the one
I have lost.

“But, sir," and she controlled her emotion with
an effort, "as we are well on our way toward the
timber, where that brave doctor fell, can I take some
of your men and ride there to see if we can discover
any trace of his fate?”

‘ Certainly, my child; but, as you are worn out,
let Zip take half a dozen of the boys and—”

“ No, sir; I had food and a short rest, and I would
feel better to go myself.”

“You can, and but for the wounds several of us
have received we would all go.

“But your horses are fresh, and I know Zip will
not let you run into danger. Remember, Zip, Cap~
tain Janette commands you, but you are to take
care of her all the same, and none of your reckless-
ness while she is along! ’

“ No, sah; I’ll skedaddle ef I sees a Injun,” meek-
ly answered Zip.

“Yes, or an outlaw, too, unless he is dead.

“Come, Janette. be off at once, for it is getting
late, and while you lead your band, I’ll lead the
cripples back to the ranch.”

With wishes for her success, in learning something
regarding Doctor Powell's fate, Major Monkton, who
had received several painful wounds, and four of
the negro cowboys, who had likewise been wounded.
started for the ranch, while Janette and her eight
black horsemen went at a swift gallop toward the
scene where the Doctor Scout had so darineg
sprung from his horse to allow her to escape.

CHAPTER XX.
THE noc'roa scor'r A CAPTIVE.

I WILL now return to Frank Powell, the Doctor
Scout, at the time of his springing from his horse,
and leaving Janette to go on alone.

The firing of the outlaws upon them,as they seemed
about to round the head of the ravine in safety,
showed him pretty conclusively that they would not
spare the girl if they could kill or wound him.

In the nobleness of his nature, he determined to
offer himself as the sacrifice, and, if not immediate-
ly slain. to trust to his own prowess,so often tried, to
extricate himself.

He was no man to shield himself behind a woman.

He saw that the white horse could not carry the
double weight of himself and Janette, ahead of the
fastest horses of the outlaws, and, if they continued
the chase, he knew that they would continue to fire

 

in the army, for the present I command here i" l >

Acting from impulse, he slipped off of the back of
the horse, urging him on with a slap and a cry, and
stood alone in the midst of his foesi

He had made every calculation in his favor, and
this at once failed him and left him at bay before
the outlaws.

That calculation was to capture. the led horse, the
animal that had belonged to Richard J oslyn, the
father of Janette.

He had raced close behind them up to the moment
of the Doctor Scout‘s springing to the ground, and
he had expected to seize his rein and mount him,
after he had emptied his revolvers at the coming
outlaws.

But the perverse animal wheeled far out of his
reach. and turning, darted back toward the out-
laws, at the very instant when he could have been
of such use to the doctor.

Thus thwarted, there was nothing for it but to
stand and fight it out.

Frank Powell was no novice in a stand-up fight.

He had been placed in positions a score of times
when life depended upon a cool head, an iron arm,
nerve and deadly aim.

He had no idea of throwing his shots away.

He saw that Janette was safe, and a glance in the
direction from whence he had come showed him the
Indians coming on with a rush.

The outlaws were pressing upon him, it was true,
but the red-skins were pressing upon them, or would
be in a few seconds, and it was whether he could
stand them off and be captured by the Indians, or
must go under to his worst foes. the Red Angels.

He saw all in the time of a lightning’s flash, and
raising his revolver he fired, bringing down the horse
of the outlaw nearest to him.

Again he fired, this time with his left hand, and a
Red Angel fell from his saddle.

The ruffian rovers, in the mean time returned the
fire, but it seemed with no desire to kill or wound
their foe. They felt sure of their game and wished
to trap it alive.

Having shot an outlaw from his horse, the Doctor
Scout saw an advantage open to him, and made a
mCilghty spring toward the animal thus freed of his
ri er.

But the horse wheeled about, as though on a
pivot, and the Doctor Scout was again forced to
stand at bay amid the Red Angels.

But just as he was raising his revolver to send an-
other unerring bullet upon its deadly mission, there
came a whizzing sound above his head, and the coil
of a lariat settled around his body, pinning his
strong arms down to his side.

Like coyotes rushing upon a wounded deer. the
Red Angels now ran in on their daring foe, and in-
stantly he was dragged toward the river by the
half-dozen men who seized him, for the Indians
were now almost upon him.

As they dragged him along they bound him se-
curely, and reaching the edge of the stream, he was
thrown upon the back of a horse. and while a. guard
led the animal across, the rest of the outlaws turned
to deliver a telling fire upon the Indians.

Glancing back, the Doctor saw that the volley had
brought the Sioux to a sudden standstill, while an-
other welI-directed flre sent them howling out of
range. their arrows falling harmlessly in the water
and upon the bank.

He also saw a party of the Sioux separate them-
selves from the main body, and dash OR in pursuit

 

 

()ne Copy, four months, $1.00

TERMS IN A1,;VANCE{OD« Copy one year, . . . 8.00

Two Coplol, one year, . 5.00

 

as though they had plenty of time on their hands,
and a large enough number to capture the Red An-
gels in their own particular time and peculiar way.

“That chief is a fool,” muttered the Doctor, “to
delay, when if he had rushed right on and lost a few
warriors, he would have ended the struggle in a few
minutes. Now he can only fail in his attack, once
these men gain the timber.”

Having come to this conclusion, and discovered
that he was, without doubt, a captive to the Red
Angels. the Doctor Scout cast his eyes upon a little
group that had already crossed the river, and were
in the timber at the spot where the emigrant, Rich—
ard Joslyn, had been buried.

As he reached the other shore, he was led apart
from this little grou , and made to stand by a tree,
to which he was firm y secured.

Then he saw his guard. and all but one of the lit-
tle group referred to, go down toward the river-
bank, and, ranging themselves in line, begin practice
with their rifles at the red—skins.

The first few shots falling short, the Indians an~
swered with derisive yells, and Frank Powell mut-

tered:

“If I had my repeating-rifle here, I could make
those red-skins change their tune."

He observed that the Red Angels had but eight
men for duty, for one lay wounded near the grove,
and another had gone off at full speed across the
prairie, as though to seek aid.

After firing a few shots, which fell short, the Red
Angels suddenly fired a volley, as one gun, and the
bullets went rattling into the very midst of the In~
dians. who had drawn much neareru on seeing that
the rifles of their foes could not reach) them.

A wail went up from the red-skins, who hastily
scattered to a n ace of safety, while the outlaws
yelled with delight at their trick and the doctor
joined in the laughter at the ridiculous haste of the
warriors in getting out of range, while he muttered:

“It would lease me immensely to see them turn
out. like the 'lkenny cats!”

Having given the red-skins this lesson of what
their rifles would do, all but two of the Red An, els,
who remained on guard. came up to the spot w ere
lay one of the little grou that had not 'oined
them, and who was ev1dent y severely woun ed.

After a short talk two of them came toward
Powell. and one said:

“You are the Wizard Doctor, are you not?“

“My name is Frank Powell,“ was the reply.

:‘ yell. you are a surgeon up at the fort?”

5 78S.“

‘1 Then there is work for you to do here.”

“ \Vhat is it ?” .

“Come, and you shall see," and unfastening the
bonds that held him to the tree, they led him to the
spot where lay one of their number wounded.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
THE RED ANGELS‘ THREAT.

“ By Heaven! but I was in hopes that I had killed
you!‘

The words were uttered by Frank Powell, when
the outlaws fell back at his approach and he beheld
who it was that lay wounded on the ground, half-
supported by the logs that had been placed over the
emigrant‘s grave.

Frank Powell was generous, even to a foe, but his

 

 

 
 
  

 

 

 

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leaflgg thehome to which their prisoner was tled to have felt an arrow poms too, upon them. of Janette, while those who remained began work a man, who had made himself a terror and curse [I I 
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u the lai had not been killed by his shot, and
tlfggackbgne o the Red Angel band thereby broken.

Instantly came the response from the wounded
man and in a tone that roved he suffered greatly:

“Your bullet was we -aimed, Doctor Powell, and
has gone deep; but I am like a cat to cling to life,
and am not dead yet, so sent for you to see if you
could help me."

“If I let you die I will render the country a ser-
vice.”

“Yes, and get the reward oflered for me dead or
ali " responded the outlaw, with a sneer.

“ O, sir, I do not trade in blood-money, nor would
I accept a dollar in payment even for riddin the
countr of such as you are; butI do not see t t I
am called upon to bring you back out of the shadow
of thegraw.“

“ You refuse to help me then f”

The Doctor Scout was silent, and. stood with a far-
away look in his eyes, thou h they rested upon the
Indians on the other side 0 the river.

“I am suffering greatly; do you refuse to help

u

“.7 t I can do for you, but upon condi-
I $331k Powell turned upon the wounded

who asked: . .
what are your conditions i"
“That, if I can save you, as soon as on are out of
danger, you disband your men, and p edge yourself

to leave Nebraska."

“If I decline our conditions?”
“Then I sha rid Nebraska of you by allowing
you to die."

“I refuse the conditions.” . n

“ And I refuse to serve you, Captain Hyena, was
the 0001 reply ”

“ You are n my power, Doctor Powell. _

“ Yes, and if I am any judge, you are so serioule
wounded. if somethin s not done for you, Best
has his clutch on you.

The red wi hid the face of the man, so that
missions co (1 not be seen, but his lips quivered
' a shudder ran through his frame at the words

0 surgeon.

“I do not wish to die,” he said, in a low tone.

‘ I do not say that you will, nor can I tell; but the
wound is in your left side. and without examination
I can only surmise that it is most severe.” I

“Your skill in surge and medicine has gained
for you the title of the izard Doctor, I behevef"

“ Yes; the soldiers and Indians so call me.”

“ I have often heard of your great skill, in snatch-
ing wounded and sick men out of the very Jaws of
death. and I have faith in your power to save me.

“ Faith is half the battle, Captain Hyena.”

"Wei sir, having faith, I intend to place myself
in gur ands.” dOt. r,

‘ pon In con 1 ions

"No, sir."Y

“ What then?”

“ n no Conditions.”

“ at if I refuse?”

“I will show you. Here, men!”

“Ay, a , sir!” cried the men in chorus.

“ Stan that man there!” _

The Doctor Scout himself stepped to the spot in-
dicated.

“ Get your rifles ready.”

This order was obeyed, four of the men confront-
ing the Doctor five paces distant, with their miles
in their hands.

Then the Red Angel chief said sternly: '

“ Men. unbind that Wizard Doctor, and if he re-
fuses to extract the bullet from the wound in my
side. kill him!” . _

Frank Powell did not allow a muscle in his face to
quiver at this stern order from the lips of a man
hovering between life and death. He Simply glanced
at the men, who were to obey their c ief s com-
mand, and said with the utmost calmness:

“ Men, in heart lies just here, so aim true, and
do not botc your work.” I

“ Ha! that means that you prefer death?” cried
the outlaw leader. '

“I have never cared to shake hands With death,
sir; but I will do so rather than be forced by fear to
obey your order.”

Captain Hyena uttered an oath. He saw that_the
man before him would die, rather than be intimi-
dated. and his Oi‘gn critical condition alarmed him
greatl , so he so. :

"Weyll, sir. do as I bid you; save’my life and I
will set you free as soon as I am out of danger.”

“ Enough: I will do all I can on those terms; but
Imust not be bound for the ropes even now unfit
my hands for work w ere steadiness is required.”

“You are right' release him, men, if he pledges
himself not to ma e his escape until I am out of
dan r.”

i‘ do"!

“Then set to work, DOctor Powell, and for God’s
sake save my life, for I fear we have delayed too
lo already.”

“ on’t get nervous, but keep cool and have
faith," and taking his case of instruments from his
belt, the Doctor Scout knelt by the side of the
wounded outlaw chief.

 

CHAPTER XXII.
A CAPTIVE [N A NEW ROLE.

THROUGH his mask of wings the outlaw captain
watched the face Of Frank owell, with an eager-
ness that was born of the peril Of his critical situa-
tion.

“Can you bear the probe, or shall I give you
chloroform?” asked the Doctor Scout, taking a
small bottle from his case.

“I will bear all pain,” was the reply of the out-
law, who seemed to dread being placed under the
influence of the drug by the surgeon.

Then, when Powe i turned to select certain instru-
ments, he called one of his men to his side and whis-

red earnestly to him: -

“It shall be as you say, sir.” answered the man,
who was an under officer of the outlaw.

“ See to it, Van,” said the chief. and then he
nerved himself to hear the worst, as Doctor Powell
again turned to him.

“The bullet has gone in deep,” remarked the sur-
geon, as he inserted the probe, the wounded man
uttering no cry.

“Iknow it, and the wonder is, having been fired
by you, that it did not kill me instantly.”

“ True: I seldom have to do my pistol work over a
second time,” was the cool reply, and then he add-
ed, with a smile:

“I am in this case undoing my work; but have
no fear, Captain Kit, for I shall do my best for
you.

The probe was a ain inserted in the wound, and
the skillful manip ation of Frank Powell not only
found the bullet, but drew it forth, the wounded
man bearing the anguish occasioned thereby with
set teeth, but without a groan.

“There is the bullet, sir: keep it as a souvenir,"
and the Doctor Scout handed the deadly little ball
of lead to the patient, who took it and asked:

“Will i; kill me?” -

“ It h .s touched no necessarily vital part, but has
left an ugly wound.”

“And you can save me?”

“Ithink so, if nothing unforeseen occurs to pre-
vent. —

“Thank you. Doctor Powell. and trust even the
word, of an outlaw that you will never regret your
so .

“Others will, though, I am afraid,” and the re-
mark and smile was lost upon the chief.

As kindly and skillfully as though he was serviu
a dear friend, Frank Powell dressed the wound an
made the chief easy upon a blanket bed he had
spread for him.

Hardly had this been done when Van the sub-
ofiicer before referred to. approached and said:

“I am sorry to trouble you, chief ; but the Indians
are preparing to cross the river at three different
points of the bend, and in equal forces."

‘ “WelL I can only lie. here and let them scalp me,
if you allow them to cross."

“ We cannot prevent them I fear, sir."

“ Well, stand like antelopcs, and let them shoot
you down,” peevishly said the chief.

“ on me, my man. but your chief must not be
worried, for he is in no condition to stand it," warned
the Doctor Scout.

“ But what is to be done, sir?" asked the man with
a certain res ect he could not deny the prisoner.

“If you as me, and. as Captain Kit is unfit for
duty, I will very (glickly tell you. for l have no de-
sire to be scalped y the Sioux, I assure you."

“ Do so, and take command. Doutor, for your life,
as well as ours, depends upon keeping those red-skins
at bay. Van. you and the men are to obey Doctor
Powell as you would me.”

“Ithink I am next to you in rank, Captain Kit,
and should not be placed undcra prisoner’s com-
mand,” hotly said the outlaw ofl‘lcer. ~

Frank Powell smiled, and then said, in his low,
musical tones:

"My dear sir, I assure you I have no desire to
command a band of cut-throats; but the exigencies
of the case demand prompt action to save us all1
and, for myself, I do not intend that a coward shal
lead me. into danger.”

“Do you call me a coward, sir?" and the man
dropped his hand upon his revolver.

“ callany man a coward who, in danger, turns to
a wounded, almost dging chief to extricate him.
Take your hand Off t at pistol. for I am unarmed,
and you but preve yourself the greater coward in
thi‘eaiening me. "

“ By Heaven, Van, he has you there. and I appoint
the Wizard Doctor to command in my place, for if
any man can save us he can; so, now, get to your
post. and if you give any more trouble I’ll see that
the Doctor is put on an equal footing with you, as
far as weapons are concerned.”

This threat cowed the man, and he walked away.
but was recalled by the Doctor with:

" You sent a messenger off for rr-inforcemcnts, I
believe?"

“ The chief can tell you.“ was the sullen reply.
“The chief, sir, is simply so much baggage to be

l looked after, just now. and I shall not allow him to

be di:turbed in any way. Answer my QUPSEIOII l”
There was a quiet dignity in the man before him

' that the outlaw could not withstand, so he answered:

“ Yes. a messenger was sent.”

“To bring the rest of the band ?"

Cl  I!

“ How far had he to o?” _ _ n

“ I suppose he would ave tlnrty miles to ride.

“What force can he brin i” ,

“ About twenty men, per ps more.’

“He was well-mounted!”

|t Yes-I!

“Then he could ride there in two hours and a
u a .'

“It would take perhaps four hours for the reén-

forcements to reach here—say seven hours, before

relief could come i”

“ All of that."

“ It is pow but five hours to nightfall."

“ Yes. ’ ~ -

“ And as soon as it is dark, if not before the_In-
dians certainly will overwhelm us here, in this tim-
ber, as we now are.”

“ So 't seems." "

“ We , there is but one thin for us to do.

“ Well, sir!” and the chief a listened attentively
for the res onse. "

" Retrea toward your reenforcements.

“ Wh , if we leave this timber we will all be mur-
dered,’ cried Van, in surprised alarm.

“If we sta here we certainly Will be, for the trees
allow the In lens to get near us, where they can use
their arrows; but, out upon the prairie, your long-
ran e rifles can keep them at bay.

“ st to work and make a litter for your chief,
and then call the men together." “

“ I will not leave the timber to be massacred.

Doggedly the man spoke. but he was completely
taken aback when Frank Powell suddenly covered
him with one of Captain Kit’s revolvers, and said
stern! :

“ Ygu will do as I order, sir, for if you are a band
of cut-throats, and I a surgeon in the army. for the
present I command here!” _

To be continued-commenced m No. 67.)

 

HYMN.

BY EMILIE CLARE.

 

Firm as the rock-ribbed hills that clasp
The wild waves of the sea,
80 Thou, with Mercy’s outstretched arms
Shalt save and comfort me.
M soul shall rest in hope secure-—
lips speak forth thy praise
As t‘l’irough life’s toilsome ways I pass
To happy, golden days.

My heart O’erwhelmed with doubt and care
Cries out to thee, my God!
Uphold me for Thy mercy’s sake
And comfort ’ncath thy rod.
My soul shall rest in hope secure—
My lips speak forth thy praise,
As through life’s toilsome ways I pass
To happy, golden days.

The days, that near my setting sun
See all Thy works divine;—
Lay down the cross, put on the crown
Whose stars forever shine!
M soul shall rest in he e secure—’
y lips speak forth y praise.
As through life’s toilsome ways I pass
To happy, golden days.

 

Old Pop Hicks, Showman;

Lion Charley’s Luck.

A TALE 0F CIRCUS RIVALIIY.

 

BY CAPT. FRED WHITTAKER,

AUTHOR OF “ PARSON JIM,” “ JOHN ARMSTRONG,
MECHANIC,” mm, ETC.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
MANAGER 'AND AGENT.

IF a show comes to trouble, the advance-agent
catches it. If business runs down the blame is
put on his shoulders, and never on the poverty
of the exhibition (by the owners of the concern,
at least).

Had Taylor heard any ordinary accusation
he would have laughed at it, but when the mana-
ger said what he did, the agent could only gasp:

“ Hissed in the streets? When?”

“ This very day!” howled Bownsse, excitedly,
and he reached to a table and picked up a num-
ber of newspapers, which he shock in the air,
frantic with excitement. “Look at those, sir!
Look at ’em, look at ’em! And you call your-
Self an agent, to let those sort of things come
out about us! On our own ground, by gosh,
sir, our own ground! And we a—payin’ you sev-
ent —five dollars a week. by the jumping Je-
rus y Crambo Crap! l l Ain’t you ’shamed to
look me in the face, sir, by gosh? Ain’t you?
By gosh, I’m that mad I could tear you to
pieces, by gosh! How dare you look at me like
that? '

And the excitable Bownsse, who had asoft
spot in his head, actually danced up and down,
and foamed at the mouth in his fury. ’

Taylor, the agent, was a large, fine—looking
man, with a particularly distinguished appear-
ance, and he stood surveying the excited mana-
ger with a surprise and scorn that found words
at last in the exclamation:

“ Are on crazy, Mr. Bownsse?” ,

“ Yes, y gosh!” howled Bownsse, dancing up
and down again, “crazy. by gosh! stark, star-
ing mad, h gosh, and enough to make me, too,
by gosh! 0 see you stand there, by gosh, and
look me in the face and know what you’ve done
to me. by gosh! It's enouzh to make any man
crazy! Look at that, sir, look at THAT!”

And he shook the papers under Old Taylor’s
nose, spluttering in fury, till he turned pale and
sunk on a chair, exhausted with the violence of
his own rage.

Taylor waited till he had reached that stage,
when the {firtlv agent demanded:

“ Well, r. Bownsse, if you’re calm enough
to understand anything, perhaps you’ll tell me
why you sent for me, and what you mean by
all this abuse! I’ve managed shows for twenty
years, sir; circuses to which your paltry little
conccrn would not be worthy to act as a side-
show, and I say, sir, that in all that time, sir,
I was never insulted so, sir. I didn’t ask to join
your show, sir. You had to send and beg me
to come, and I wouldn’t do it till I had a re-
sponsible guarantee for my salary. I’ve worked
aim- dirty little concern as it was never worked

fore, and driven your rival—a better man
than you, sir—off his own twenty-years’ route,
and on presume to swear at me, sir! Con-
foun your impudence, manage your own show!
You don’t know how to treat a gentleman.”

And in proportion as the portly agent, with
his white hair and beard, grew excited and
swelled and fumed, G. B. Bownsse began to
pull in his horns and think he had gone too far
in his excitement.

Onion George was essentially a bully and a
cOWard, with an unlimited reverence and long-
inglfor just one thing—money.

. 6 ad been a poor man, and had had to
cringe, in his time, to vulgar brutes possessed
of more money than himself; for shewmen in
very many cases are vulgar and brutal to the
core of their hearts.

Now that he had money and a show of his
own, he treated others as he had been treated
himself, and letloose his temper as it suited him
on his interiors.

But, with all his bullying of those beneath
him. he still cringed as humbly as ever to those
above him in the show scale, and he well knew
the terrible power that lies in an advance-agent,
if he belong, like Taylor, to a large show, and
have a spite against the owner of a small one,
running anywhere near his own concern.

And Taylor was a man of letters who had
been a successful dramatist and squandered
two fortunes, being well known all over the
States, in places where Bownsse had newr been
heard of or mentioned.

Only his extreme rage had blinded the big
manager to this, and as soon as Taylor had fin-
ished he began to Whine:

“ By gosh, Taylor, you‘re so peppery, by
gosh, you can’t understand a man, by gosh!
I’m nigh crazy. by gOsh! 1‘ui ruined. ruined!

 

Look at those papers and see if I haven’t reason
to blame you? I leave it to yourself, by gosh 1”
His tone instantly softened the other, who
was a gentleman by instinct, and he said, more
placably: ' _
- “ You can do that with rfrct safety, 811'.
If I‘m wrong I always ac nowledge it. My
reputation is worth more to me than any
amount of money. What are these papers you
speak of!” _

“ Here ” groaned the manager, givinghim
the bund e. “ Look at ’em, by gosh! Ruined,
by gosh, ruined, ruined!”

Taylor pretended not to notice him, though
Onion George was now fairly blubbering at his
own woes, and the Old agent quietly scanned
the papers the other had thrown him.

He did this in a methodical way, first putting
them all in order of dates and places, then look
ing them over with the rapid, searching glance
of an old clippings editor.

Occasionally be compressed his lips or allowed
a faint smile to ruffle his white board, but he
made no remark till he had scanned the last
paragraph, when he laid down the papers and
said quietly:

“ By Jove, Bowssse that’s well done. I’ll
never undervalue a little man who has shabby
clothes again That’s Manna.”

Bownsse wled miserably.

“What do I care who it 13' I’m ruined, bv
gosh! Hissed in the streets! Stones tin-owed at
my partner and his friends in the four in-hapd.
Sure card every where else,and here they Just
uelted ’0m with mud and eggs. Notasoul in
the afternoon show. by gosh, except the gosh
darned reporters, come to write up the affair
asking more questions. by gosh than if then
was detectives. and then wnl'zir’ over to ' r
other show, by gosh, and writin’ ’em up like
they was a reg’lar boss band of angels in upper-
crust society in heaven, and we was the lowest
of the low. What’s to be done, Taylor? What’s
to be done? Gosh-darn it, you’ve got me into
the scra . Get me out.”

And nion George blubbered like a calf. .

01d Taylor let him sob a little, and then said,
in his grave, quiet way:

“There, there, man. I thought you were
used to the show busine. This is only a smart
trick of little Moone’s. Oh, he‘s a good man.
air, a good man. He’s beaten me fairly, and I
own it. But I’m not dead yet, Mr. Bownsse,
and this fight’s not by any means over, as you’ll
find. Where’s your partner?— the moneyed
man, I mean. This thing wants to be handled
well, but we need money. This Mr. Scone, I
must see him.”

Onion George pointed to the adjoining room,
and said gloomin :

“ They’re in there, by gosh! Wish I’d never
seen them, by gosh! It’ll stick to me fur twenty

year. Hissed in the streets, by goshl. Ele—
pliant and all! They’re in, there. Go in—go
in.”

He waved his hand, and Taylor Opened the
door. to find a hotel parlor, in which sat two
gentlemen, trying to smoke and talk together.

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
PLAIN TALK FROM MR. TAYLOR.

THE'Old agent was' slightly acquainted with
both of them, but only in a busmess way.
When Bownsse had written to him, at the be-
ginning Of the season, offering him an engage
ment, Taylor had been out of a job, owing to
a quarrel with his managers in the large show,
he being a pe pery and pompous personage.

He had w tten back to give his terms, but
insisted on a guarantee for his salary, which
Bownsse had en unable to give till he met
Stone and Leonard, and the young mine-owner
had become his guarantee in writing.

Since his engagement the show ha prospered,
making the present blow all the more unex-
pected and stunning.

Quarry Center was one of the towns where
Taylor had put in his best work, and where
Moone’s articles had been refused, but the
Quarry Center people read the Stoneburg pa-
pers, and by the time that the shows arrived
extracts had been hawked about the streets
and had excited the people as only, insults to
women can excite men of the Anglo Saxon
race.

.They had started the cry as soon as they saw
Leonard’s four-in-hand in the streets heading
the show:

“Down with the mashers!”

“Insult ladies, will ye?”

“ Give it to the mashers, boys !”

Then came a shower Of eggs, and mud, and
stones, till Stone and his friends had been fair-
ly driven to the hotel, and the police had to be
called in to help the circus men.

Pop Hicks's show, on the contrary, had been
surrounded with friends for the fuss time in a
week, and was 'doing a rushing business, just at
the time when Pop was thinking he should have
to send home for money to meet the dreaded
Satiérday night that brings so many shows to

me .

8 Such was the state of affairs when Mr. Taylor
walked into the hotel parlor and found Stone
and ‘Leonard 'quarreling over what had hap-

ne .

They eyed him witlnno friendly glances as he
came in, and Stone observed, in his savagely
sarcastic way: ’ ‘

“Good-day. sir. Have you come to take a
look at the results of paying you seventyfive
dollars a week to manipulate public Opinion for
us? I don’t think you’ve any reason to be proud
Of your abilities, when you let a little Bowery
side-showman walk away with you like that.”

This was more like the talk Taylor was ac-
customed to, and it nettled him to say, as bitv
terly as Stone: _

“ I don’t see that he’s got‘ away with me so
much. If you’d told me you had such a weak
record, I could have looked out for it. I
thoughtit was all to be legitimate show busi-
ness: but it seems you’ve let a woman run away
with your wits. I’m not going to be held re-
sponsible for that.”

“ He’s right, Stone; he’s right,” burst out
Leonard. “By Jove, he's right, you know.
it’s a beastly shame, you know. And I don’t
see, by Joye, that we’re any nearer the end
than we Were when we started, you know.”

Stone curled his lip.

“ You never do see. Didn’t we have the man
nearly ruined? Didn’t his best rider Offer to
come to us?”

” No, no, by Jove, no. Give the devil his
due, you know, Stone. No, he didn’t. We sent
for him, you know, through Jim Perkins, and
he said he’d come if Pop icks didn’t come to
time on Saturday. But he didn’t offer to come
to us, you know.”

“ Well, it’s all the same, anyhow,” said Stone,
indifferently. “He’d come if he lost a Week’s
pay, and that’s enough. Pop hasn’t got the
money to pay his hands, and one day’s good
business isn’t going to give it to him. Here
we’ve had eight days’ good houses to his one,
and he didn’t get out of a single town without a
dead loss. This is a check: that’s all.”

“Certainly, certainly,” broke in Taylor.
“Only a check. Such things must be, in the
nature of the show business. Up to-day. down
to-morrow. Very sensible view to take, Mr.
Stone.”

Stone sneered at him.

“ Yes, for you. It’s all your fault."

Taylor colored high.

“It’s not my fault, sir, and you know it. It’s
yours for deceiving me.”

“ Deceiving on .9 Well, I swear—”

“ You needn t. sir. I say deceivei me. Had
you told me your object was to get this girl into
your power by ruining her father, I should
have known what to expect and how to work
the papers. My only instructions Were to break
down the Hicks show by any means in niv
power. I think I may say I did so pretty ef-
fectually, till that little fellow sprung a trap on
me, for which I give him due credit. Now I
suppose you want to know what to do to rem-
edy the evil?”

“Of course we do; but you can’t tell us, I‘ll
bet,” snap ,d Stone,

Old Tay or laughed.

 

" My dear sir, you don’t know quite as much

 

as you think you do. It’s as simple as A  (3.,
Which of you is it that’s crazy after this girl:

Stone bit his lips andlooked at his friend,
who drawled out: ,

“Why, I am, if you want to know. Shes
prett , and she rides so devilish well, by Jove,
that ’m enchanted with her.”

“ And you want to get her out of that show,
while you‘re a millionaire, and don’t know how
to do it,” said the old agent, with a chuckle; for
he was a fat and very sensual man in his way,
with few scruples to prevent him from joming
in such a scheme. “ Why,‘my dear sir, it’s by
no inpans necessary to ruin her father to do
that. . - _

Leonard jumped up—positively jumped in his
eagerness, exclaimiug:

B Jove! You don’t say so. Confound it,
Stone, you told me it was.”

Stone sneered bitterly.

“ I’ve told you a good many things, but you
won’t follow my advice. Of course you can
buy the irl, if you want to plank down fifty
thousanrf dollars in trustees hands to secure
her against loss if you marry. But that’s not
what you wanted, as I understood it. You
wanted to do it cheap. The cheapest way to get
the girl is to ruin her father.” _

Old Taylor looked at the Igambler in a singu-
lar way, half-admiring, h -disgusted, as he
Observed, dryly:

“ You may be right, sir, if you succeed in
ruining the poor man, but how about your con-

cience afterward 1”

Stone burst into a scornful laugh, and Leon»
:rd follOwed him, asking:

“By Jovo, I say, Colden, is the gentleman a
.arson, you know?”

Tavln- fine! or! decolv. The sarcasm on his
~ingle impuls‘l of honor and gentlemanly spirit
cut him deeply, and he retorted, with great dig-
ni -

“NO, sir, only a gentleman. Possibly you
don’t understand my meaning.”

Leonard looked at him stupidly.

“ No, ’pon my soul I don’t. ”

“ I mean,” returned Taylor, “ that if you
want to prevail on the scruples of a circus rider
to live with you, and can’t do it without ruin—
ing her fat her, you must not expect me to help
you, sir. I’m no J osepb. I admit, and the show
business has taken out of me a good many scru-
ples 1 once entertained; but. by Jove, sir, count
me out Of any such plan. If you merely want
to get the girl, I’ll help you cheerfully—”

“ Will you ?” interrupted Leonard, in a trance
of delight. “How? HOW ?”

“ How? Simply by going over in a business
way to see her, and telling her she’s a fool to
throw away a chance of establishing herself in
life; that’s all,” replied the old sensualist, cool-
ly. “ The girl would be a fool to reject it. But
you’ll have to come down, you know. She’s
worth a hundred dollars a week in any show in
America.”

Leonard’s eyes rolled up in horror.

“ Good heavens!” he ejaculated. “ A hundred
dollars a week? Why, that’s five thousand dol-
lars a year, man.” .

Taylor grinned.

“What of that? It’s not quite that, for the
season’s only forty weeks. But if you’ll settle
that on her, for a certainty, I’ve no doubt all
her friends will advise her to take it. when she
can get it without risking her neck twice a day
to do so.”

Loonard shook his head resolutely.

“ NO, by Jove, that’s too still. I wouldn’t
mind going fifty a week, you know, for a year
or two; but, hang it, four thousand a year, just
to get a girl who rides well to go out with a fel-
low! Oh, no, no. Stone’s right, by Jove. It‘s
cheaper to follow his way, you know.”

Taylor shrugged his shoulders. He was a
sensualist who ind not hesitated to givo the
most immoral advice, but like most men who
are sensual by bodily temperament, he imagined
himself virtuous when he came on one of his
few scruples, and he had a great contempt for
anything like parsimony, being a spendthrift
by habit and inclination.

“ Very well, gentlemen,” he said, rising.
“you can consxder my services at an end, and
I’ll make you a present of this week’s salary.
You got yourselves into this scrape by not be-
ing frank with me in the first instance. NOW
get out as you please. Good-day.”

And he rose to go.

CHAPTER XXVII.
A GREAT TEMPTATION.

THE threat of abandonment brought Leonard
to. terms at once, and he jumped up to detain
Taylor, urging for a little time to consider.

The wily 0! agent had made the threat on
purpose to secure a compromise, and he suc-
ceeded at last.

Stone and Leonard agreed to leave the show
and keep out of sight, on account of the scan-
dal their presence created, and Taylor guaran-
teed to hush matters up and drive POp Hicks to
the wall for them.

His condition was that his salary should be
doubled, and his allowance for expenses be
made large enough to cover all the bribery he
foresaw he won] have to resort to.

Leonard, who was, as Taylor had-found, mean
in the midst Of all his lavish and wasteful ex
penditure, “ kicked” for a long time against the
agrecement, but finally consented, and wrote
the letter that Taylor demanded before he
would stir in the matter.

Then the veteran Set to work with all the skill
of which he had become master in twenty
years’ show experience, to get Bownsse out Of
the slough of despond in which he had been
cast so utterly unexpectedly, and to rehabilitate
the “Show of all Shows” in the public eye.

The fonr-in-hand publicly left Quarry Center
that very afternoon; and the evening pa ers
contained a card from “G. B. Bownsse, an-
ager,” couched in a strain of virtue that was
pOSitively ascetic, in which the noble-hearted G.
B. B. stated that:

“Havin discovered when too late the character
of his wic ed associates he had dissolved partner-
ship with them forthwit . at a cost of thousands of
dollars. preferring an honest crust to the most luxu-
rious fare that gilded iniquity could provide: and
lamenting the fact that his easy and trustful nature.
inherited from a long line of religious ancestors in
the town of Eastport, Maine. had rendered him so
liable to imposition from men whose res .tability
wa's ‘vouched for by the Governor of the tate him-
so .

Taylor and Bownsse chuckled over the card
as it went into the papers, for the Bowery man-
ager had recovered his spirits as soon as Stone
left, and reflected that, so far in the campaign.
he had actually made some money. and had
been advertised on other men’s cash to an ex-
tepft he never could have accomplished by him—
se .

And the money was still to come in, as be re—
flected, while all the advanta e that would ac-
crue from the fight was to be ong to G. B. B.,
and the losses were certain to fall to Stone and
Leonard, as men not in the business, and there-
fore to be fleeced at all hazards.

The publication of the card had a decidedly
good'effect. It came out in the evening papers,
and Bownsse had about half a house, not unfa-
vorably disposed.

Taylor put in his work well, and, for a man
of his weight and inactive habits, performed
wonders for the next week, during which the
f‘ Show of all Shows " managed nearly to clear
itself though not making any money.

But Bownsse saw plainly that his rival was in
hardly any better plight after the first burst of
sympathy was over, and Pop Hicks had no such
backers as he had, in the men with whom a feel~
ing Of revenge for slights and eagerness to win
were about equally mingled.

So the shows went on their way through the
Pennsylvania t0wns, to the borders Of Mary-
land, when little Moone met his redoubtable an
tagonist, Taylor, for the first time on their trip
since the yOllel‘lf man had fooled the old one.

. lie ex ect . to meet with anger and even
With vio once, for hs puny little frame, worn
out With work and anxiety, made him unusu—
ally nervous that day; but, to his surprise, the
other greeted him with a cordinlit that over-
whelmed and awed the shabby litt e man. who
saw lil Taylor only the greatest of advance

 

 

 

men, whose word could make or unmake him in
many different w ys.

The older m‘a »;_shook hands with hi, con-
gratulated him on the “ splendid way by Jove,
sir, in which you handled that ads T. It did
you honor and shows you liaVe ideas, sir,
dens, a thing very few men have, sir. I hear
you no malice, for I lied to you, and deserved
all I got.”

“ And why did on lie to me?” asked Moone.

Taylor hesitated?

“ To tell the truth, my dear boy, I was really
and truly ashamed to sign my name as the
agent of a little concern like that, and I was
not known in those small towns; so I just con-
cealed my name and took my mother’s. But I
tell you what it is. Moone, you ought not with
your talents, to. be slavi for old Po Hicks.
He’s a good enough old ’ ollow- but c ose, sir,
close as they make ’em. Why don’t you come
over to our side? I can get you in at treble
your present salar , at once.”

Moone tremble all over. He had a little
family at home who took all his slender salary
while he lived on the expenses he was allow
on the road, not by any means great in the
Hicks shaw. The temptation came to him at
a moment when he was articularly weak for
he had begun to see that is efforts were all in
vain to lift the show that was followed with
such persistent malignity as to render a mone-
var success impossi le.

‘ Saturday nights” were telling on Pop
Hicks, in temper as well as pocket, and the old
man had more than once bitterly reproached

-im for bringing his daughter’s name into the
papers against orders and, as it had turned out,
to only temporarv effect.

Tom Fowler, the bare-back rider, had been
growling for some time about his salary bein
behind, sometimes as much as half a week, an
the whole show was pervaded by an atmosphere
of discontent, that comes over the most united
bodies in times of financial de ression.

And here came to Moone, in the guise of a
big, jolly, Falstafllan individual, the tempter of
ease an comfort, offering him a sum that, to
the overworked and underpaid agent, seemed
to be a colossal fortune.

Taylor saw the struggle in his thin face and
continued kindly:

“ What’s the use Of your killing yourself to
ay for a dead horse. You may work all you
like, and We’re bound to win in the end. I’ll
not deny that you may carry Hicks on your
back a few weeks longer, nay, even to the end
of the season; but he’ll go into winter quarters
without a penny, if he does ull through, which
I doubt; and you’ll have t e name of having
been connected with a losing show.”

Moone shivered slightly, but controlled his
face to its habitual weary calm, to answer
slowl :

“ r. Taylor, I don’t know what right you
have to talk to me in this way. You wouldn’t
break your contract with a man, would you?
In our business a man’s word must be held
sacred, or he may as well move out at once.”

Taylor shrugged his shoulders.

“As on please. Very proper, of course.
Yes. I’ I admit that honor is supposed to gov-
ern our transactions in the main; but no man is
bound to refuse an offer which will better him
in the world.”

Moone had recovered his self-control, which
had been sorely shaken by the insidious Offer
of the tempter, and he re plied with perfect
coolness:

“I’m' not aware that I’ve had any offer yet,
Mr. Taylor.”

Ta lor colored slightly with pleasure, and
asks abruptly:

“ Would you entertain one, if it was made to
you at once?”

“ Certainly I would,” replied Moone, calmly.

“ You would?"

“ Of course I would mater/am it.
I would uovvpt ' it.
thing.”

“ How 3" asked Taylor, suspiciously.

“I mean, it would depend on the nature or
the ofl'er.”

The old agent looked relieved.

“ I see, I see. Very proper to be prudent.
But you’d entertain it, and, even if you refused
it, the matter would remain in confidence be—
tween us?"

“I don’t say that either,” returned Moone,
quietly. “ I wouldn’t deal with you alone.”

Taylor flushed angrily.

“ Why not, why not?”

Moone smiled serenely.

“ Because you’re not the party that would be
responsible for the Offer. That’s plain, I hope.
You’re making me an offer to buy my services.
If I sell, 1 must be certain of my money, and
you know you are not pecuniarily responsible.”

The Old a cut laughed. He did not seem to
be in the east offended by the little man‘s
frankness.

“You’re quite right, Moone. I spend all I
get, and more. too. But suppose I bring you a

efinite offer from good and responsible parties,
how then?”

Moone pursed up his lips.

“ It must be in writing, from a party Of
known responsibility, before I can look at it.
1 don’t trust Bownsse. You don’t yourself, or
I’m mistaken in you.”

Ta lor evaded the point.

“ ou’rea smart little guy, Moone, but that’s
none of your business. All you want to knOw
is that your money is safe. Isn’t that so?”

Moone hesitated a moment.

“ Not entirely.”

“ Why not?”

“ I must know who‘s going to pay it.”

:‘ vi shali,”

‘ hen Ve nothin to sa ' but Good-evenin ,
Mr. Taylor.” g 3 E

And the little man rose to go off, when Tay-
lor caught his sleeve and pulled him down.
half forcibly, half jocularly, saying as he did
5 .

1 don’t say
That’s a very different

“ Confound it all, Moone, I like you. There’s
the right stuff in you, and l’m going to hire
you for my assistant. I’m getting too old and
stout to work as I used to. I'll tell you what
I’ll do with you.”

He paused awhile, as if to collect his thoughts,
and went on slowly:

“I’ll bring you a written Offer from a re-
sponsible party, with a certified check for a
quarter’s salary, at forty-five dollars a Week, if
you’ll. promise to say yes or no when you re-
ceive It. There—45 that fair enough ‘1”

lirliionp middfed. b I

‘ ’er act. y air ut shall re uirc I
think over it.” , q a day t(

“ You can’t have it.
[s that a bargain!”

Moone bowed his head.

“ lt is. “Man will you bring the offer to me,
and where f"

:iI‘to-mgrrow, a}; (‘ligaliestowm Noon.»

sa argum, sm . cone, rav . “ -

night, Mr. Taylor.” g 61y Goad

Hill: went away and telegraphed at once to Pop
0 s:

“ Come up to see me at ('harlestown.
arc weakening.
who can.

I’ll give you three hours.

If vou can't - Thaenemy
_ tome, send someone
Moons."

The mesuigc dispatched, he smiled to himself
and muttered:

“ You Old sinner, [’11 beat you yet.”
(Tu be con!mired—commenced in No. 62.)
M

 

OLD Mr. Topeasy fell overboard the other
day. He was fished out and was sent home
and _wlnle tcarfull recounting his misfortune
to his wife, he sai : “ I swallowed about a gal~
Inn of water.” “ Then you know what it tastes
like at last,“ returned Mrs/1'. He wished he
had been drowned.

A GIRL out West is said to have refused a
telegraph lineman three times in as many
months because he was “too much of a vmn
dcrer—~he wandered from ‘pole to pole! and
from ‘climb to climb,’ and if he should come
home he’d be so ‘insulate ’ that he’d make one’s
hmr stand up straight, and there‘d be no end to
‘batteries and 01135598., "

 

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THROUGH MEMORY‘S WINDOW.

BY JOSIE C. MALO'l'I‘.

 

 

Fairer than a poet‘s dream,

Than the sunset‘s fitful gleam,

()r the calm, unruffled stream,
Visions come of long ago,

Hours that knew nor death nor woe,
Stainless as the falling snow.

Memor ’8 window gaze I through,
Where he meadows wet wit h dew
Tempt my feet; the skies so blue
Threaten neither storm nor rain.
All my ships upon the main

I’m expecting home again.

Comrades with me as of yore,

Are the friends who've gone before,
Wearing just the smile they wore.
Loving tones fall on my ear—-

Tones I‘ve longed for years to hear:—
Strange they bring the sigh and teari

All my castles firmly stand,

Castles built upont esand,

Such as ne'er was seen on land.
Naught 1 long for but is mine‘
Views from off the rrand old Rhine,
Books and statues t ese walls line.

Pain and sorrow ne’er were known;
Love sits regent on the throne,
Where the virtues dwell alone.

“ Time. thou thief " to steal from me
Home and friends, till naught there be
In my life that I can see

Worth the striving for, and yet
I must toil till sun shall set,
Bear the turmoil and the fret;
Trusting that a wiser power
Knows that grief has been my dower
And for me a heavenly bower

Has prepared.

Monte Jim,

The Black Sheep of Bismarck.

BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR.,

AUTHOR or “ NOR’ WEST NICK,” “KING or THE
RUsrLERS,” ETC.

CHAPTER XXVII.
MONTE JIM CLEARS HIS RECORD.

WITH a faint, gasping cry, Medea Penning-
ton fell back on the couch, fainting, the horri-
ble scene being too much for her already over-
tasked nerves.

It was a scene of the most intense confusion.
At the double report the men who Were crowd-
ing the bar-room rushed through the doorway
to the room of death, standing in mute horror.
Honest Giles was completely bewildered, and
could do nothing. Monte Jim caught the faint-
ing maiden in his arms, sharply calling for
water, but no one seemed to hear or understand
his words, and he lowsred the graceful figure
on1 the couch and sought the restorative him-
se f.

As he came back, he sternly ordered the gap-
ing crowd to hasten and remove the dead cou-
ple fearing the effects on the weakened nerves
of the maiden, should her gaze fall upon them
when her senses returned.

In silence he was obeyed, and then, as Medea
gave signs of recovering her senses, he drew
back and motioned Honest Giles Dickson to
take his place.

It was upon his face that the maiden’s eyes
first rested when they opened s sin to con-
sciousness, and a sad smile came into his blue
eyes as she shrunk back and averted her gaze—-
but only for an instant. Then she arose and
approached him, with outstretched hand, her
voice faint and quavering as she spoke:

“ You saved my life, and I thank you. Only
for you that terrible creature would have killed
me, anc —”

She paused in her speech with a low, gasping
cry, as she noticed how terribly white was his
countenance—as she saw how tightly he pressed
one hand to his left side—as she noticed the red
blood flowing through his fingers!

“ God of mercyl you are wounded l” she
gasped. “That shot—it struck you, instead of
mel You gave your life to save minel And I
never tuought—”

“It is nothing,” he interposed with a faint
smile, motioning her back. “ Your life was
valuable, mine worse than nothing. Besides, I
OWed you something for having consented to
deceive you into thinking me the original Lloyd
Pennington.”

His voice grew fainter, but still that smile
filled his great blue eyes—still he stood proudly
erect, pressing back the hot blood that flowed
with such terrible steadiness from his breast.

Will Rice hastily entered the room, and with
a sobbing cry, Medea flung herself into his arms,
tearfully begging him to aid the wounded man,
to summon medical assistance.

“ My dear lady, there’s no use in making such
afuss over a trifle like this,” laughed Monté
Jim, deprecatingly. “ I’m used to it, and a
bullet or two more or less—”

Despite his iron will, he could not conclude
the light speech, but staggered back against the
wall, still smiling, and afifecting to make light
of his injury.

A doctor hustled in, summoned by one of
Monté Jim’s pet gang, but the card-sharp mo-
tioned him back, as he suffered himself to sink
down upon the lounge.

“ It’s no use, Doc, he muttered. “I’ve got it
right where I live, and all your tinkering can’t
make me a sound man again. Don’t bother—
only give me some stuff to keep up my strength
until I can make a first-class apology to the
lady, yonder. It’s all you can do for me_nowl”

Despite this, he was too faint to res15t the
firm but gentle examination which the doctor
insisted on making; but a very brief scrutiny
convinced the physici-in that Monte Jim was
indeed beyond his powers of saving, and simply
plugging up the wound, bandaging it tightly to
check the terrible flow of blood, he gave the
wounded man a stimulant, then stood aside.

"Thank you, Doc.” smiled the card-sharp,
with a slight nod. “I don’t want to run you
out, but as I’ve got a few words which  want
to say on private business to this lady, if you
will just ste out and let the boys know I’m
thinking of t em it would be a favor to yours
truly.”

In a few moments the room was cleared of all
save Monte Jim, Medea Pennington, and Will
Rice. These two drew close to the lounge on
which the wounded man lay, in obedience to a
sign which he made. Then, in tones low but
distinct, he spoke:

“Though men call me the Black Sheep of
Bismarck. child, I don’t want you to thin of
me when I’m gone, as a man without one smgle
streak of white in his nature. .

“ It wasn’t altogether my doings, this play—
ing off Lloyd Pennington on ytsu; but let me be-
gin at the beginning.

“1 am just what I told you: James Ince, a
gambler, a man on whose hands rest many red
stains which water can’t wash off— No, no!” he
cried, with sudden energy, jerking his hand
away as the maiden caught it up and impul-
sively pressed it to her lips. “ Not that! It’s
too red to touch lips as pure as yours! Don’t——
don’t unman me before I tell all. It’s hard
enough to find words—my head is all of a whirl
—I believe I am beginning to lose my nerve at
last!” v

A faint, hollow laugh escaped his lips as he
motioned Rice to give him a drink of the_stimu-
lant prepared by the doctor before leavmg the
room of death.

“That does me good, and I’ll make a fresh
deal,” he said, as his head again fell back.

“As I told you on the train, I once had a
pard called Poker Pennington. I never knew
his first name, for he was a stern, secretive man,
who seldom spoke about himself or his past life.
With one exception. He never tired, when he
and I were alone together, of talking about his
younger brother, Al, he called him; never by
any other name. , _ ,

‘ He said he had not seen him for years; did
not know whether he was alive or dead: that
he could never go back to the old home, and

 

 

 

never expected to ever meet one of his kindred l

again. But he made me solemnly swear that if
I eVer met a young man called Al Pennington,
to treat him white in memory of my old pard.
I did swear, and I repeated the vow when I
knelt OVer the grave where Poker was buried.

" Now you know why i took such a deep in—
terest in your cousin, Alva Pennington, child.
I believed him the brother of my old pard, and
when he came to me and claimed me as his long-
lost brother—when he begged of me to see you
and refuse the offer which you had sworn to
make-when he solemnly swore that he would
blow his brains out if any other man ever wed-
ded youT—you can see the motive which led me
to permitting you to believe me Lloyd Pen-
nington.

“I declined your hand, lying when I said I
was married; I meant to refuse all share in the
fortune, simply urging as a reward that you
smile upon Alva: but that is all over now!

“I could see no harm in taking that name for
a little while, for if this was the br0ther of my
dead pard, Pokermust have been the Lloyd you
sought, and he was dead. So 1 was not cheat-
ing anybody out of their rights—and I had
sworn I'd serve little Al if it ever lay in my
power—and I was a Black Sheep, anyway—41 lie
or two more wouldn’t hurt my morals— Play
fair, Curlyl One card at a time, if you please!”

A painful sob broke from Medea, and Rice
hastened to hold the glass to the lips of the card-
sharp, whose mind was beginning to wander.
But Monte Jim feebly motioned it away.

“ I’Ve told all—and it can’t do me any more
good. The game is about ended—and she caught
the turn on me, sure!”

Sohhing bitterly, Medea Pennington knelt
beside him. He gently—almost reverently—
touched her hair with one white hand, then
swiftly raised it to his lips, laughing faintly as
he caught the moist eye of Will Rice.

“Don’t begrudge me that little, old fellow.
If you only knew what a terrible temptation it
was—when she said those words—and her hand
in mine—her eyes looking so bravely up at me
——when I knew that i had only to break my
word and accept her offer! But I didn’t say it.
I kept my faith to the lad—I didn’t go back on
the word I gave my old pardl You can set that
down to my credit, any way!

“But—somehow I can’t catch the words I
want—they dodge me, and I find I’m saying
something else.

“ Give me your hands—as a favor—sol” and
he placed them to ether, holding them thus
with both of his. “ rest her white, old fellow,
or I’ll come back and haunt you till your hair
turns gray! Poor Al won’t object now—she
loves you—you love her—I saw it all, last
night.

“ And now—lady—if you wouldn’t mind,” he
gasped, painfully, wistfully. “Nobody but us
three need ever know—and you could soon rub
the stain off—after I’m one—”

With a sobbing cry, edea Pennington bent
over him and pressed her lips to his—not once,
but repeatedly.

A glorious smile came over his white face,
and his great blue e es shone brilliantly.

And then—Mont Jim, the Black Sheep of
Bismarck, died. __

There remains but little more to add to our
tale.

Before she left Bismarck, Medea Pennington
caused a plain marble shaft to be erected above
the mortal remains of the man who had given
his life to preserve hers. It told nothing to the
stranger, save his name and the date of his
death, but while life lasts, at least two persons
will never think of the man whom his enemies
called Monte Jim, the Black Sheep of Bismarck,
without a tear dimming their eyes, and a

ra or for his future happiness in the spirit~
Fan passing their lips.

Those two are Will Rice and his beautiful
wife, the lady whom we have known as Medea
Pennington.

THE END.

 

Plains and Mntain Men.

BY FRANK TRIPLETT.

“ Old Bill” Williams.

AMONG all the trappers none were more des—
perately brave, or more in love with a life of

erpetual excitement and danger than “ Old

ill” Williams. Why he was called “ Old ” Bill
I have failed to learn. Jo Jewette, who had
lived with the Sioux for fifty years, and who
knew Williams, and in fact all of the other
trappers, well, told me that he could not have
been as old as some of the other trappers, and
suggested that it might have. been on account
of his love of solitude, as he was greatly given
to making excursions unaccompanied by any
comrade.

The “solitaries”—as old bulls driven out of
the herds of bufialo by their younger rivals are
called—may have suggested to his comrades
this addition to his name, as they often called
him the “solitary” as well as “ Old” Bill.

Williams was a Tennesseean, and before be-
ginning his career along the Missouri as a trap—
per, had fought the Indians in Kentucky and
Ohio, and served with the armies of Harmer,
St. Clair and Wayne as trailer and scout. He
must have made his first trip to the mountains
about the time that Smith first went u to the
trapping-grounds in the Crow and B'ackfoot
country. for when he again returned With Ash-
ley and Henry, he was thoroughly familiar with
the trade and the country.

It is said that he united his warnings to those
of the renegade, Rose, upon the arrival of the
boats at the Arickara village, where they suf-
fered so terrible a defeat. Williams saw that
there was something wrong in the action of the
savages and urged that extreme caution should
be used. Ashley’s confidence, howaver, was as
thorough as it was misplaced, and. the penalty
he paid for it was terrible, as Will be shown
later.

After the massacre at this point and the over-
throw of the Arickaras, which followed it, W'il-
liams formed one of the fourteen men that con-
stituted the advance party of Ashley’s trappers.
Hurrying on to the Yellowstone. they trapped
along its waters for a short time, and at the ap-
proach of winter took refuge in the Village of
the Crow chief, Arapooish. An abundance of
hunting and a few brushes with the Blackfeet
formed the only excitement of the trappers dur-
ing their hibernation, and they were dehghted
at the approach of spring. .

It was Ashley’s desire that this body of men
should push on over the mountains and make
their way down the various streams of the Pa-
cific slope to the Columbia, it being the idea of
all the American fur companies that this must
be the true trappers’ paradise, since the Hudson
Bay Company had done so well there. On
leaving the Crow camp the trappers struck the
country of the Blackfeet, the implacable ene-
mies of all white men. Owing to their inso-
lence and thievery, some of. them had been
killed by the party under Lawn; and Clark, who
explored their country and descended to the
shores of the Pacific with a Government party.
After that time they had used every means in
their power to annoy the trappers and other
whites. If they were too weak to attack them,
the hung upon their trail, stealing or killing
their stock, destroying their traps, firing the
grass and timber, and in every (possmle way ex-
hibiting their malice and hatre .

“ Old Bill,” whose religion was to hate every
Indian alive, was furious at the conduct of these
savages, and lost no occasion to vent his spite
and vengeance upon them. It was his custom
to drop behind the others and secrete himself
upon the trail, certain to be rewarded With a
chance for a shot at some of the Blackfeet that
dogged them. In this way he had killed
two of them, and was beginning to enjoy the
pertinacity with which these savages hung
around them as it enabled him to take a scalp
daily. The third time he attempted his maneu;
ver, however, instead of proving “a charm.
it came near being an utter failure, for his rifle

 

 

- l
hung fire for a second, and his aim being dis-

turbed. the Indian escaped with a broken arm.

He should have accepted this failure as an
omen and abandoned his stratagem, but hoping
still to work it to advantage, he fell behind his
comrades as usual the next day. and secreted
himself to wait for the enemy. The Blackfeet
had been beforehand this time and following
more closely than usual had seen “Old Bill ’
secrete himself and were enabled to entirely
surround him before he knew anything of their
pressnce.

Had their anxiety not outrun their prudence,
the trapper must inevitably have fallen a vic-
tim, but in endeavoring to get a shot at him.
one of the braves in his rear stepped upon a
loose rock which went thundering dewn into
the canyon below with a terrific noise. Im-
mediately wheeling around, Williams took a
quick aim and before the Indian could recover
his balance sent a ball through his chest and
tumbled him down after the rock.

The death of this warrior exasperated his
comrades-terribly and forgetting that the other
trappers were still within hearing they gave
vent to a chorus of terrific yells. “ Old Bill”
gave his answering shout and threw himself
hastily into an angle formed by two fallen pine
trees. Swift as had been his m0vement one
ball out of the volley that followed him took
elfect in his right leg and made a. stubborn dew
tense more of a necessity than ever, since flight
was now out of the question.

While the Blackfeet were deciding what to
do “.Old Bill” was loading his rifle, and when,
fearing the return of the other trappers, the
Indians had determined to finish the matter
with a fierce rush, he had that and his pistols
ready to his hand. With fierce whoops and
dancing rapidly from side to side to confuse
his aim, the Blackfeet poured in their volley
and then made a fierce charge. Two more
balls struck the brave trapper but did not dis-
able him. and taking a cool aim he succeeded
in dropping their leader. Under ordinary cir
cumstances this would have sufficed to cause a
halt, but the blood of the savages was up and
without the slightest pause they cared onward.

With a pistol in each hand illiams aimed
coolly and two more of his foes fell. Next
drawing his tomahawk, he awaited the torrent
that he knew must overwhelm him, but the
chance to use it never came. It happened
that a short time after Williams left his
comrades they came to a mountain park
and in order that their horses might
have plenty of grass, determined to halt
for the night. On the banks of the stream that
flowed through the park they had seen Indian
sign, and, immediately on hearing the shot, had
set off on their back trail, fearing that Williams
was in trouble. Luckily they arrived just as
“ Old Bill,” faint from the loss of blood, must
have “gone under,” and with a hasty volley,
which killed several of the savages, and a swift
countercharge put the rest to flight. “Old
Bill’s ” wounds were bandaged and he was taken
into the camp, where they were obliged to wait
for nearly a week before he was able to ride.

“ Old Bill’s” next fight of any consequence
was with A-tas-co-ish, a renegade Bannock, or
Nez Perce Indian, who had fled to the Black feet
on account of a murder committed in his own
tribe, and who had made quite a reputation
among his adopted kinsmen by his skill and
bravery. This young warrior, with four other
braves, had stolen six of the trappers’ horses,
and “Old Bill,” with two comrades was sent in
pursuit. It was just sneh amission as delighted
him, for he would leave a stream thick with
beaver at any time to engage in an Indian fight.
Following fiercely upon the broad trail left
by the thieves, the trappers overtook them the
next day as they were cooking dinner. Firing
upon them one of the Indians fell dead, and the
others quickly treed, an example immediately
followed by the whites.

“Old Bill” now eXpected that considerable
time would have to be spent in maneuvering for
a shot, and was about to pass the word for his
men to spread out right and left, when A-tas-
co-ish called out from his tree that he had a
pr0position to make. Williams called to him
to come out and make it, that he should not be
fired upon. Upon this the young chief came
forward and said that he was willing to leave
the matter in dispute to the question of indi-
vidual bravery, that he would fight any of the
whites to the death to decide to whom the
horses should belong. If he won, the uninjured
trappers could go back to their camp unmo-
lested, and he would take all of the horses on to
his tribe; on the contrary, if he lost, the white
men might not only take their own horses, but
those of the Indians, allowing the latter to es-
cape unmolested.

“Old Bill” at once accepted the “trial by
co mbat,” and urged upon his comrades to abide
honorably by its issue. To encourage them not
to interfere, he told them that he had seen one
of these Indian knife duels, the only kind the
mountain Blackfeet ever fi ht, and he felt con-
fident that he could teach 6 young buck a few
points before he was done with him. Stripping
themselves for the struggle the two combatants
faced each other, and having drawn their
knives with their right hands, they extended
their left arms toward each other, and each
clasping his antagonist’s wrist firmly, a white
man and an Indian stepped forward and bound
the two arms tightly together with buckskin
thongs.

The Indian was a noble-looking and finely-
formed young fellow. with the proud air of a
successful warrior, but his opponent excelled
him in brawn, as much as his Anglo-Norman
blood excelled the Pagan ichor of the savage.
The young chief had calculated upon two ad-
vantages, it‘ not three, in this duel; first his su-
perior agility, second his superior experience,
and probably also depended upon the fiery
nature of the trapper, who had become noted
among the Blackfeet for his rash and daring
valor.

Had Williams never witnessed one of these
duels, he might have fallen an easy victim to
his antagonist; but during a temporary peace
with a portion of the Blackfoot tribe, on the
head-waters of the Missouri, he had seen two of
those pugnacious savages engage in one, and
had studied all of the moves of offense and de-
fense with the critical interest of a connoisseur
in human slaughter, and consequently when
the seconds had stepped aside and given the
word, was in no great hurry to play into the
Indian’s hand by any rashness or impatience.
He had determined from the first to make it a
trial of strength rather than dexterity, and im-
mediately proceeded to put in force his first at—
tempt at mastery. With his right hand at his
hip, his knife hilt clown and point up, he looked
the Indian steadily in the eye and gave a vio-
lent wrench to the latter’s wrist.

He found the young chief prepared for this
move, and saw t at he must now attempt his
second plan. Holding firmly to the wrist of
A-tas-co—ish, he began pressing against the lat-
ter, as if desirous to throw him to the ground.
Thrown off of his guard by the unforeseen
course of the white man, the chief stiffened his
arm and resisted strongly, watching anxiously
for a chance to strike a blow. When “Old
Bill” saw that every muscle in the body of the
Indian was strung up to its tensest pitch, he
sprung swiftly backward, and by a series of
rapid jerking bounds began to draw A-tas co-
ish after him. The latter now saw his peril
and endeavored manfully to retrieve his mistake,
but without avail, and after one of his rapid but
ineflectual slashes at the trapper, the latter
turned quickly, swinging the savage off his feet
and landing him stunned and breathless upon
his back.

Seeing the danger of their leader the remain-
ing Blackfeet jumped to the shelter of the trees
and one of them fired at Williams. The ball
missed the white man and passed through the
brain of the gallant young chief. Furious at
being robbed of his prey, Williams out himself
loose from the dead man, and, regardless of the
other Indians, rushed headlong upon the savage
who had fired upon him. The c0wering Black-
foot ajmed a furious blow at the trapper with
his empty rifle, but the latter evaded it, and
closing with him almost beheaded him at a

 

single stroke of his heavy knife. At this the
other savages called out for mercy, but “Old
Bill "' was thoroughly infuriated at this breach
ol honor and told them to take their choice of
fighting like men or dying like dogs, and having
recovered his rifle, the remaining Indians were
speedily dispatched.

in the later years of his life, after E'ldie had
returned to St. Louis and the Sublettes and
others of his old comrades had died or been
killed, “Old Bill” became more of a solitary
than ever. But seldom coming into “the
States,” he made long and lonely excursions
into the mountains from the British Possessions
down to the Mexican borders. His fights with
Crow, Blackfoot, Navajo, Apacne, Sioux and
other Indian fo»s were rrequent, and at the dif-
ferent rendezvous to whicu the trappers resort-
ed. to obtain ammunition and the few neces-
sities of their primitive mode of existence, the
aSSembled traders and trappers noticed that the
scalps at the girdle of the “Old Solitary” in—
creased rapidly in number. Making but a short
stay at these camps, Williams loaded up his
pack-horse and mounting his famous Flathead
steed all alone struck off for the mountain parks
and streams.

At last the long-predicted end of the brave old
trapper’s expeditions came. One day some trap-
pers, out on a scout through a fierce snow-
storm, saw a horse standing dejectedly near a
low ledge of rocks, R ding closer they saw that
it was the faithful steed of the lonely trapper,
and a still nearer approach showed them that
he was nearly starved. Trying to lead him off,
he broke loose from them, and returning to the
rocky ledge began pawingr at the drifted snow.
Thinking that his master might have taken
shelter there. they cleared away the snow and
found the stiff and bloody corpse of “Old Bill,”
his head bent forward upon his breast, his gray
scalp safe from the hands of his savage foes, but
his body marked with a dozen fresh wounds.

Finding that the faithful horse would not
leave his dead master, they hol10wed out a rude
grave and shooting the horse, placed him and
the old trapper side by side and covered the
bodies with rocks to prevent the desecration of
the grave by Coyotes and other wild animals.
From a Blackfoot warriOI, who was with the
band that trailed Williams to his death, the
trappers long afterward learned the details of
his last fight. They had patiently tracked him
from his well-secreted camp one morning, and
firing upon him as he was removing his traps,
had wounded him severely. A running fight
began which continued to the camp, where
Williams mades stand long enough to saddle
up his sole friend and companion, the Flathead
horss. He fought, said the warrior, like a
demon, and at this point they lost two of their
best men.

After mounting, Williams continued his re-
treat, turning ever and anon like a lion at bay
and dealing death to an enemy at every stand.
For five days and nights this running fight con-
tinued; oftentimes the trapper Was so faint
from loss of blood that he could hardly sit up-
on his horse, but he would not give up, and at
last, in the face of a furious storm of snow,
they fired a volley at the fleeing man and
turned back to reach their camp before they
would be cut off from it by storm and famine.
The answer to their parting volley was a fierce
yell of defiance from the Lone Elk, as they
called Williams, accompanied by a rifle—shot
that killed another of their number. The
sequel we know, and thus, in the midst of
storm and desolation, uncheered by the presence
of a single human being, the brave spirit of
the lonely old trapper took its flight to that
mysterious world, of which we know nothing,
but of whose Ruler we know that “He will do
what is right.”

 

Strange Ocean Caverns.

BY THE EX REPORTER.

 

 

“YES, I've seen some queer sights, but now
I’m dry-docked, condemned. out of commission,
and wrecked on the shores of time.”

The speaker was an old man, so drawn up,
shrunken, and mummified that a good topsail
breeze would have blown him away. He was
lying in front of a Chandler’s shop in South
street—the great city’s sailor-haunt—thawing
out in the sun, and caressin a great black cat
that had strayed from an a joining warehouse.
while his small fiery-red eyes wandered ofl?
among the shipping. ,

“I don’t look like it now,” he continued, as
the reporter dropped onto a coil of rope by his
side, “ but ten year ago I was master of as good
a brig as ever sailed the seas. Wern’t I, Tom l”
giving the cat’s tail a tremendous yank, as if it
was a halyard, and bad fouled aloft, and to
which came an answering wail.

“ Of course she were,”contlnued the mariner

“ Ye ever heard on the great race atween the
J. G. Speedwell and the ship Tycoon? No?
Wal,wal. Ain’t been much of a traveler, hev
ye’él More’s the pity. It kem like this: I was
skipper of the Speedwell, and in ’48 we was
both a-lyin’ in Havana harbor, ofi? the Moro,
and was both a—goin’ to sail in the mornin’.
Wal, to come to the p’int, we had a sort of a
party on the Tycoon, and after drinkin’ all the
wine they had we got to blowin’ about our
vessels. Ii point of fact, the Tycoon could out—
sail us, but when I swung over the side to git
inter my boat, I had bet a hundred dollars with
the lads that I’d git inter Key West an hour
ahead ’em, startin fair next mornin’.

“ Wal,” continued the old man, “ I let out on
to it when I got aboard, and the mate says,
‘ We’re stuck, sure.’ Anyway, I turned in, and
gev it up. The next mornin’ it was howlin’
from the south’ard and east’ard, and we sailed
out to the minute, and I packed the old brig
till you couldn’t git a man to stand to lu’ard,
bein’ afeard the masts was goin’, and the lee
shrouds was a—fioppin’ about like a gal’s back
hair. The Tycoon bed every stitch on, but,
bless ye, we sailed right ’round her, and, to
come to the p’int, we was at the dock when she
sighted Sand Key Light, and two hours later
I had the hundred dollars. I left a day or so
after, and never see her ag’in till 1860, when I
ran across the mate at Rio, and he says to me,
‘ That was a scaly trick ye played on us in the
Tycoon.’ ‘How so?’ says 1. ‘Why, the bag,’
says be. ‘What bag?’ says I, and then he see
how I didn’t have the p’ints on it. He said that
when the ship got under way they couldn’t git
no speed out of her, and after they left Key
West it took ’cm nearly thirty days to go to
New York. There they put her on the dry
dock, and what d’ye s’pose they found? Why,
two big canvas-bags, each made out of a main
and mizzen-royal, and them things had been
made fast to a bull’s-eye on the lower part of
the rudder, and when she got under way, in
course, they filled and held her back. It was a
trick of my mate. He must hev fixed it up that
ni ht.

23‘ Yes,” said the old man, laughing over the
old memory, “I’ve seen some queer things.
You’ve seen these ’ere caves under ground,
hain’t ye? Wal, now did it ever strike ye that
there was the same t ings under water—great
caves down in the sea, filled with fishes, crabs,
sharks, and the like? How do I know it? Why,
I’ve Seen ’em,” he replied. “In ’53,” be con-
tinued, “I went to the south of Cuba with a
brig for a load of fruit. It was a great place
for crabs, shells, and curiosities, and the like,
and I, bem’ quite a swimmer, was always on
the surf when we wer‘n‘t workin’. Out there
ye must know ye kin see the bottom for seventy
feet just as plain as if ye was there, and with
some practice I got so’t I could go down and
stay as long as the next one.

“Wal, to come to the p’int, one day I was
divin’ inshore for shells and things, and saw a
reg’lar openin’ that led inshore, and made up
my mind to try it. A crazy sort of a scheme,
but I fetched a rope and told the hands to haul
away lively when they felt three ulls, and,
tyin’ the end round my waist, down went.
swam down about twenty feet, went into the
hole quick, and in a minute was out of water
and in a reg’lar cave on shore. And talk about

 

yer magic! It was beautiful. All a-h ‘ ’
and shinin’ like diamonds was great $3323
made out of stone, as white as snow, and then
there was pillars and columns just like yo see
up to the Park here. In the water was corals
of all kinds, and I tell ye it wasa reg’lar palace

and all it wanted was the mermaids. I got out
all right, and about the hull crew went in and
the mate, a dago and great swimmer, found an-
other branch of it that went off out to sea. I
heard after they sent a diver in from the land

and he said it was a cave miles and miles long,
judgin‘ from what be seen. ’

“How did they see? Wal, that’s the curest~
est part of it. Every man that I heard on said
that the darker it g0t the plainer they could
see, and all from the animals in the water that
blazed like fire, so that the hull water was
lighted up splendid. One of the best of these
’ere lights was a critter about a foot long
shaped just like a barrel” [probably apyrosoma,
a. compound, and a wonderfully luminous asZ
c1dlan], “and every time you touched it it gev
out a reg’lar stream of light.

“There’s these ’ere caves on every coast”
continued the old sailor, “and I’ve heard at
folks a-gettin’ in ’em and bein’ drownded. Ye
don’t hev to go to forrin parts to find ’em.
Right off the port of Salem, betwixt there and
Lynn, there’s the finest sea cave a-goin’. Ye
kin hear her a-moanin’ and groanin’ four miles
away to lu’ard. Some folks say as how it ain’t
in natur’, and that there was one of these ’ere
buccaneers crafts went down there years ago
and in a sort of punishment wheneVer it blows
they hev to fire minute guns to warn honest
coasters off-shore. Anyhow,” added the old
man, fiercely tearing off a slice of navy plug
and rapping the cat over the nose with the re1
mainder, “ there’s the noise and the cave. Ye
hear it about off Swampscott first, soundin’
just like a heavy gun fired to wind’ard. ln
moderate weather they’ll come about every
minute, and when it blows sometimes ye’d
think there was hull fleet firin’. I’ve often
been over the rock—Cannon Rock they call it—
fishin’, and the noise would come so heavy, like
enough make ye jump. I heard tell of a diver
who went down to it and let on how it was a
cave fifty feet_high, and when the ground swell
struck it, it was chucked back, shakin’ the hull
ledge. I reckon it’ll split one of these days.
That’s Where they got the idee o’these singin’
buoys from Cannon Rock.

“ If ye keep right up the coast,” said the old
skipper, “about ten miles to the north’ard of
the isles of Shoals, ye’ll see a white streak
along-shore in the rock. Wal, when the Wind’s
off-shore from the west’ard ye kin hear a sound
that has made many a green hand jump. I re-
member goin’ past it for the first time, and the
old man told me it was the sea-sarpint, and nigh
scairt me to death. It would come like some
hard breathin’ from a big critter, then a noise
like escapin’ steam, and then a boom! boom!
that would shake the very water. I had the
curiosity to put in there onc’t, and I tell ye it
was enough to scare the Old Boy himself. The
Lord knows how deep the cave runs, but it’s
only at certain tide that it sounds. I was bltv
tin’ on the rock waitin’ to hear it, when a big
roller kem in. There was a rush of air like a
hurricane, then a spout of water that covered
me up, and a shock that shook the hull ledge.
Ye see the tide had just got down to it, and
when the water slackened the air would rush
in, then the water would fill it, throwing the
air and spray out like a steam engine. I wait.
ed there till low water, and run my boat in
twenty foot, and then a pole, but there wa’n’t
no end to it, and it seems to go down, instead
of up. There’s another one a mile further 11 ,
and all along the New England coast ye kin
find ’em. About fifty years ago some folks
was blastin’ rock on an island off the Maine
coast when they blew a hole right into a regu-
lar cave that was onc’t under water. There
was shells, crabs, fish, skeletons, and sech, and
cur’us enough, an old musket with a flint lock,
and the skeleton of What they took to be a. man.
But what puzzled the boys was how it got in.
It was twenty foot above high water. Some
said how the land had riz; others said it was a
sort of a pirate’s cave and had been closed up
by an earthquake, but to tell the truth, they
didn’t any of ’em hev any idee how it did come
about.

“No, I wasn’t always a skipper. For the last
four years of my active life I was a sort of vice-
admiral, cook, etc., of a lightship. There’s
quietness for ye. I‘ve often heard of these
chaps,” he continued, “what was seekin’ re-
tirement and rest from the world; goin’ inter
convents and what not. What that ’erecrowd
wants is a three years’ cruise on a lightship.
There’s more solid peace of mind there than
ye kin strike on shore in a lifetime. Lone-
some? Wal, so to speak. It’s wuss nor that
at first. Why, I’ve knowed men to go crazy on
’em, and hev to be locked up, put in irons, and-
we bed one lad on board that was nigh scairt
to death one night. He was on deck when- a
gev a yell that brought all hands up, and the _
he was a-shakin’ like a leaf, and p’intin’ aloft.
On every p‘int was a ball 0’ fire, some movin’
along up and d0wn, in and out. All old seamen
knew ’em, and I’ve seen a ship covered with
’em: but he thought it was ghosts. I tell ye,
there is some things seen that’ll scare ye,
though. I see a ship one night a sailin’ down
on us just as plain as I kin see that ’ere bridge.
She was under press 0’ canvas, royals, stu’nsails,
and everythin’ a-drawin’ and as white as snow,
On she kem, and I sings out, ‘ Ship ahoyl Ahoy,
therel’ and like that,” and here the sailor gave
the black cat’s tail a sudden yank, “she was
gone. Kind of a fire mist, the skipper said,
but I'll sw’ar I seen the men on the deck.

“Yes, they live well enough on lightships;
plenty of hard-tack, fish and game. Yes. game,
and the best of it is it comes right aboard.
Ducks, snipe, shore birds of all kinds, in bad
weather, throw themselves ag’in’ the light at
night and fall aboard dead—seem to git con-
fused like. Some light-keepers make a pile of
money sellin’ ducks and snipes what comes
aboard that way. But I tell ye,” said the old
man. struggling to his feet, preparatory to
moving ofi‘, “instead of havin’ prisons they
oughter make prisoners keep lightships. It’s
bad enough for em.”

 

CAVE CITY is in the eastern part of Cala-
veras county, Cal. It once contained 1,000 in-
habitants, but on the failure of the gravel-mines
the population diminished, as in other mining-
towns, till at present the “ city ” consists of a
hotel, a saloon and a haystack. A few of the
curiosities of early times still remain to the
place. One of these is the graveyard on the
hillside above the town. It contains sixteen
graves, fifteen of them filled by men who died
with their boots on between ‘50 and ’56. The
cave extends into the mountain-side about 300
feet and contains over one hundred human
skeletons. The Indians have no traditions of
how the skeletons were put there. Probably it
is an old Indian camp, and in time of war the
unfortunate wretches were shut up in the cav-
ern and perished for want of food and water.

A EUROPEAN journal relates that a few
months since workmen occupied upon some
constructions on the bank of the river Dnieper,
in Central Russia, employed the electric light to
enable them to prosecute their labors at night.
The brilliant rays of the light attracted so
many millions of nocturnal moths, beetles, and
other insects, that from time to time it was
necessary to stop work and set all hands to de-
stroying the clouds of winged victims that fre-
quently completely obscured the light. This
suggested the idea of employing the electric
light to destroy nocturnal Insects rejudicial to
agriculture and experiments in t at direction
are to be tried next spring. Not only toinsects,
but to fish, the light proved fatally attractive.
Its rays, directed to the surface of the water,
drew together vast quantities of all the fishes
found in the Dnieper, and when within the
charmed field of illumination they la crowded
together in masses, seemingly blinde and stu-
pefied. The workmen, improving the oppor-
tunity, made a notable haul of fish.

 

     

 

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. . i - I “ Her town lots were bought when the prices ' ’
. f h ldren in en ral and his treatment “ Humbug,” “ Skedaddle ” and
.. fieli‘é‘ém‘iaieusvme “nude” its:'23.;instructing.halting1:2 c“"esl’“"“e“‘5 c°'"'""'
. ' - - v ' ' ~ . ~ ll '
Egg 5 '  1125;351:3133313.2%:Elucigighglgusaaufigoeszefi NOBODY ever saw the word “ ruml ug” until price she paid for them. Another young lady [This 00111111" is Open to 9-“ cOmspondems- 13‘

.  -  - - -- , v tlyascir-

A a r a vale than it was that scrawled on the walls 0! Dublin.. who took up a pre—emptton claim last fall has quiries answered as fully and as promp
icigigfoggughihifiln :33; 2:303): EboaingI but and iisk,da(dle" was uilknownbm 1001‘; llgarfi the Sathsfaction of knowmg that Ia rahlrIoad- cumstances will permit. Ccntributions not entered
. . .. . - ’ ' l, n d with image until July 21 186}. at the an e 0 ll survey as since been made across it, an it is as “declined” man, he considered accepted. No
Published etery Monday mommy at mneo clock. MI was none of my funeral, and I lish",l G h I I Run. These. term’s hke that of it dude," not at an improbable that she may yet hwome ‘ I ed
a.l the calmness I coulvl command W l 0 e l! 0 , . . 1-, ~ . 50 000 t MSS. returned unless stamps aie inclos .l

884 rifled himself and his offspring. in fact. one Sprung into extstence almost withOut vo i JOB. the Owner of In t0wn site worth from $ , I o I I t h

NEW YORK, MARCH 15’ 1 ' h d to laden Not a soul in this gentleman s and 68"h in 118 Win expressed a new ~hhdepf 8100.000. It is a very poor town Site that is not 323‘ “ehave to announce in reference ot econ-
nzighnorlhOod' could read or talk, or even think meaning and caught the car of Ithe public worth the former sum. 250 lots at $200 each tributions sent in, in response to our PRIZE OFFER-B,
. , . ' . ' H l ' . ‘
Burma’s Wanxnv is sold by all Newsdealers in ven prorounuly_ while he continued his gratui- Strictly speaking, the word dude is applied making that amount, a quarter section or land

   

 

    
  
  
   
  
 

 

 
    
  
   
     
   
  
 
  
  

P rt es 111 N m W ' E ' ' . that, without exception, all fall to reach the stand-
. . d in the anadian 0 won. I ‘ to “1°59 "0 im'tale some “353 0f "#1 9'1 "f", Will make about 600 ordinary lots, allowm for am re “ishe for use in an of our uhncaflon our

in? i mumsgzo oga‘in it fro a ewséiea‘ef‘é’r ‘°351°2£fi’§i§3»°32 announced next, “I have Wt a man may be 8 “dude”and “631‘ home- stieets and avenues. q y p s...

1 those referring to have the aper sent irec , y . g

   

wm ‘ ' ‘ - - own corps of writers not competing, No award,
1118 ' ' ‘ ' ' and obe ' a spun. The “ dude ” was not content to be a fop ‘ The Instances hb0", melted are those deGI I I I
. il, tom the publication 0 cc, are supplied at lllytcllllgl‘slélgl‘alilrg: tgnugadfihst;gg see, Thefieas alone—a mere imitator as to eyeglass and dress nous to Ransom county, and every cuunty in therefore, 18 declared, and all manuscripts are held
I Idle {0110 . g mcesz 21:23.}: 31;“ tr‘egmngrg ‘0 tr’ain them young” —be'mufl inmate the language 0f Houn‘deCh DakOla has a similar number of cases to record. for thirty days subject to author a order of return
I Terms to Subscribers, Postage Prepaid:

    
  
    
  
  
 
   

   
  
  
   
 
  
 
  
 

 

   
  
 
      
    
  
 
   
  

 

    
   
  
  
   

a m an? Oh about and the society fop of England. His mission°is If the thousands of hard-working girls at the by (xpress, orstamps for return by mail.

One c y. four months ............. .. $1.00. Egggieh-iuélblxlgdeglghhhgchilwa; mind?! welh merer to stand at the crow roads of time, and East could only be helped to om.grate to Dako DeclinedI “White Roger, “Dead Chm“, Form"
» " of? one Year ----------------- -- 3.00- I guess m”, mm,“ If ,hey didn't, they know show us where not to go. ta,they would find plenty of employment at “A, the Right Momma” “TWO weddinwDa Sin
, Two copies, one year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 5.00. what theyflgem You see?” hlgh wagesI heSIdpsIhavmg an opportunity of “Rescue of hhShhey, I uKI,ISSII Me, DIS”??? ll hlhl
In all orders for subscriptions be careful to give The (humanth here mildly interposed that, Savages and the Telephone. taking up land ItthaIIt ana few months Will make 3;?ItIIht-Iflt1rgihssorEhhhfggliq II’gFalirs.Is OIdegI-Itgg‘hg
address in full—~State, County and Town.I The pa- he fun,“ his olive branches were not thte so I I them smai capl a s 3. {I'm hGood Are wm Alwa 40w“ , “A HalfIanh_
per is always stopped, promptly, at expiration of we” trained hub that he was not f, ml of ad- THE other day in St. Lou-ssome Apache chiefs, Go Vl est, young woman—go West! H I“, Pekwlwem‘ fume Felt’hmrv 1693”, H A Placer
subscription. Subscriptions can start With any late mmietering £00 much punishment who had he“, carnhd there, were mown a tele_ Asquintiond.’ ,I‘Wamfing .the mickey” “A Sofia

number. b . t. u (5h 1 donut whip muchI no, indeed! Why, phone and permitted to hear through it a mys— Two Pee , r Perso es Thing}, ~ v

. , . _- ' , , “11a mg a '

bYTmLN‘gnggggngllggoggggllgogggpicgpalggz I haven‘t Whipped either of my youngsters 5mm muons vow: fipOkm from “an They marveled G. G. Ballad too imperfect as a composition for

  
  
    

, . , . , lave t0__you exceedingly over it. They were the leaders of
. t Office Mone Order is tne some lime last summer.  don t I I

55st? 39ml??? of regifizsnce. LOsses % mail will be see they are too well trained. Why, to illus- the dmogtdimhlaca ble of sivagshtzhbesm T5131;

0.1111053 surely avowed if these (“realms are f01‘ trate how they understand—last night I ban 8 a o ten been We W] e oo o

GEORGIA is just now interested i In two most our columns. We cannot use what is at all crude.
Pecu'lar Personages- one 13 a “"03 Skeleton PUNY Boa. We can send you a. printed list of

    
  
       
      
    
  
   
  

h H Th murdered men and women , war whoops of their reSidlng near Keno, Habershaw county. H0 the novels named. Too many titles to repeat here.

lowed. eeled an apple and gave each a 8 - 9y . . . t . ' is twenty-two years of age, is fully six feet in IRWIN A. we cannot say which river discharges

WA" communicationsv subscri “0115' and 19" gm, the Pieces “9 ‘he table' Nuther Of them “we we"? as rampmr to then». ears gs the cry night, and only weighs 56 PoundS "1 his ClOthes. the most water—the Mlssiselppl or the St. Lawrence.

“1‘3 0“ busmess 81mm“ be “dares to thought 0f fondling that apple- They? knew ot.th° '7'“ “mm but. that ‘f’tang‘l'lp Sula” Toe skin clings so closely to his bones that it —’I‘he novel, Captain Crimson. is DIME LIBRARY 142.
BEADLE AND ADAMS. Pumsnuns. they were not allowed to eat such things at velcewhlch came to 'b' 11‘ ears 1'1 0m the Infinite.

 
 

, - 0 has taken their Shape and corflgm‘ation in A. C. J. 1118. unavailable—We do not return re-
98 WILLIAM ST.,NEw YORK. night, and it never occurred to them to do so. that was ‘3 "9"" expelnence to. ""3"" ~ "9 by every part of his body. He is in perfect health. jected matter at our own expense.—~Due for postage
You should think my giving it to them in that one obey listened to It: then- In Sileme. “rap

. . and has never had a day of sickness. At the underpaid—2 cents.— We do not care to see the Illa.
way would have seemed to them perm ssion to Ping their blankets around them, Went and sat age of fifteen he only weighed 32 pound,_ He referred to.

‘ t 't? Not a bit of it. The know what they down to ‘hl'tk- Af 9" mm“? their tongues ears with avidit but his food is half di ested. SUBSCRIBER. The principal theaters in New York, l "
    gin] blue at certain times grid what not, you were 10059118“. and 980'] gave his ‘dea Of What He has a pol-fez} horror of himself, andgnever at the date named, were the Old Bowery, and Bur-

seea Why If any one gave them a candy, they the yoi'ce in the telephone was. I The final cone leaves his homeI He is the son of an excellent ton's, on Chambers street.— Do not know about the
whhld not aream of eating it without the per- clu>ion was that it was the white man’s Great

' .- - - - fires. Ask the Spirit of that Times.
  . missmu of their mother or myself. And if each Spirit» 98 be talked in English and the anxiety uuzen' and his father and mother humor I 1m 0. N. D. We do not repurchaseold papers. always
, v

. . in his every wish. The other erratic individual . h he hit d t flu -
' d h were told the could Was t find the instrument throughIwhich the - - of he ,- havmga stock of bac Inum rs on n I 0 or-
OR, 2:? otrlreoagigdld e:303nwotuled‘7 find the other gandies Indian’s Grew? Spin“ tame" to his Chlldl‘ 611- lives m one t upper coun‘les 0f the State, ders' We are not mused 0f Bumflo Bl" s appoint" ‘
t )

h k f d fte un'ess they (laid 31?:th £6813 as if; he was F13“ the. frtigidhilé‘ ments for the spying, so cannot now say when he
in t 9” p00 6‘3 or “.55. a I" ‘. ' s ea 0 I e empera ezone. ven in e 0- will playin rook yn_
The Planter Midshipman Were give“ further Permlssmn 0011091111118 them- “ Good. Bad and Jack Mormons.” test days of summerI he wears all the clothing DOCI Anybody can manumcmw and sen a meal-
’ Y?"Q5°?bg’ k N ., mured the friend MORMONS are severally khhwn as u good u possible to protect him from the imagined cold. cine It is necessary to “patent " it if you ex ect
‘ ui remar a e,’ mur ,

I _ .. n i. - n _ He was never wet by rain in his life and never to prevent iiifringements.—_We know of no rm
BY COL. PRENTISS IN GRAHAM, who must have been on the verge of insanity by :10“: “ :ggd n $31,313,718; [3:16 with?! “:32; goes out at night without sheltering himself which will take such a medicine and sell it fora roy-
this time. . , an ih'temomse with Gentiles both socially and with an umbrella from the dew, No part of alty to the owner or patentee. I I
” YeS‘ y 011 599 they 31' 9 W911 tralned- Its an as far as may be in a bucine’s‘s way A u had ,3 his food is ever eaten cold and he often re- Sonaasmns. A notary DUbllc IS authorized P0 pro-
_ , in beginning early, though. You see? I must Mormon is one w’ho doe: not practic'e tbi‘, osbI fl_ marks that it is all he can do to keep himself test notes etc., and to attest contracts or writings of
lures in Pl“: Per 50115 and condmons- The say my children are very well behaved; very ‘

. . . - - any kind for the purpose of giving them the color of
. - cism but who otherWISe conforms to the from.f‘eezmg' He Is always seen 0” thestreets . ' 't . N t s blic are a ointed b the
author calls it f‘ A Romance of Southern Shores well behaved indeed,” he remarked, With ex- Panohs of the churchI pays his “ timings" reg clad m a heavy overcoah authentiCi y o arie u pp y

    
    

 

  

 

   
  
   
     
      
    
   
  

 

   
      
      
  
   

 

   
  
 

starting in No. 71, is a story of unusual fea—

    
    
 
         
   
      
   
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
  
 
   
  
  
 
   
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
    
   
    
   
   
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
    
   
  
  
  
   
    
  
    
 
 
    
  
  
 
   
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
    
  
  
 
 
   
   
 
   
   
  
 
 
   
 
     
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
    
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
       
   
 
     
   
    
  
     
  
  
 
  
    

' ' ' Governor by and with t e consent 0 the Senate.
- - - tlon and satisfaction. \ , . I . . _ . I.
and Waters m the Eighteenth Century.” It is “'9me “no ' ularly and believes that JO‘ePh Smith is still ——— M. L. Being married ought not tochange your re-
° ' This was alm'OSt too muCh mental pressure their Shiritual head. A "link ’ MOI'mOD is one lations with your brothers. It would be a. very un-
trul ty ical of a somewhat remarkable era in . I A Team of Deer. I
y . p . . for the compamo'." . ,, h who belongs to both SldFS, according to the reasonable husband who was “jealous ’ of your
American history When Amencan waters 31‘ “Well’ my Ch'ldren are htfle cuss“! e compary he is with. When a Mormon girl THE Butte, Cal., Record tells of a curious- love for your own famllY- "110.“ “W5 kind 01' 8
"1°59 swarm“! With blurted out - marries "on the outside” by which they mean looking team attached to a light buck board mans bat?" 3‘3.” an.““demmnd‘“g 3“ once as to 
I feel sure that confesslon saved th-e poor a "Gentile ” she is not at once excofnmuni- wa On which, lately Put in an appearance at your ownmdlwduulmghm' 
' man from lunacy: “'3 for me’ I felt Ilka the cated She’is given a certain period in wnich tha% town The team consisted of two immense JENNIE WREN' Minnie wane“ died July ’ 1 '  w
Sea and Shore Bandits~ u . - - . . . . _ . . . 23“ 878 , , 
‘ 9:311:13; (Egoéfhiglenggfll‘slfs [insosSfia ai“milling, 3;]: to convert her husband to the faith, failing in buck deer, with large antlers, and looking as She was the wlfe of maJnrNewen'and dmd When 31 

 

- - ~ ears of e. Mrs. Stratton her sister and the -’ r t:

not all rufilans, but a strange mixture of “gen- dicamehhmtera i. big higD InsaidI i. Thank which sheIhicomes an “ apostate.” A girl who though they might outrun a "streak of greased {In-60w of 3,: celebrated Tom 'ThnmbI is how about . ,

tl ” dventur rs and run h coast charac- tl fri rd ” I was ’lad the other man’s chil- ‘3 Sialed "0 one Of the Plllars “tum Churva “gbm'l’g' The” harness “a” made emll‘elym 41 Year? 0f "88- Tom Thumb (“9d at Mlddleboro. r
lemon’ a e g 198‘ e ’ 2. - I g. 11 d h f k that is, who has forsworn all marriage here on buckskin. there not being even a buckle about Mass, in July last, at the age of 49 years.

“No A Young Woman, Wh000m95 early 01] the dren “ere 1;." {Susie‘s ano 8191 “:36 gab: earth that she may be the "spiritual wife” of them. The diiver and proud owner was a Dig- s, F, 890 last. week's issue about Complamer,

scene as the captain of a pirate coast—craft, is :,P£.‘lg:th%gggngsziges 11,31: (fish-Ema] than th’; the said “pillar” in the World to come, loses all ger lndian, well known by the name of Buck- He was chief ofIlhe SeiiecaItribe in the Genesee Val-

the “ heroine " of the story proper. Why she is mvoe pa“,th of perfection belonging to his hope of salvation by breaking these vows. horn, and coming from the Big MeadOWS, where l' .V. and a principal war-chief and sachem in the Six

 

 

 

 

 

“ ' ' N t'ons, from the eriod of the Revolutionary War 
apirate, and so demeans herself, the singular friend. I would like that superior father to Mexicans as Thieves hefiaglggguogdtggagsggtgg “as a guide in that math, time or hispdmthI Complain“, was (“sum I ,III,
1 d' l L f h 'll train Some Of the Chlldren I know' I reekon he ' l h V . t h - - I bl eulshed for talents, eloquence, courage and love of 
denouemm‘ °" Y ‘50 “es' Overs ° F f’ "” ‘ would have a lively time of it! As for the men THE editor of the Lawrence (Mass) Amm- grantee): "1g “’“I‘try ,9 '3 3" }"V“H““ *9 “‘2‘ his race. 2‘
romance of the sea may confidently antimpatea who are glven to saying that women are to,“ “MI who is giving his readers an Recount of :lilIISIIiIotn otanyhpa; yd? campeig. f ((31 can ph EMERALDI We "resume that the reason for the ,II
real feast in mm talking about their children, let them re- what he saw during his recent visit to Mexico, 0 V1“ ms 0 9 Ce mg 310"" 3 ° 99" 8" shamrock being used as an emblem of Ireland is ' 
7 ' form the men in this particular—the self—suf— says there is an almost universal propensitv heart and knows-every Sp“ along the.tr°‘."‘ base“ "11th fact tllfllSt-l’atPleifi BaldtOllflVeuSed
I 3131-3113, ’ C ' 1 "Y ” ficient e otistical mew—before they begin again for thieving among the lowcr classes. A rail- streams when. a “De Show“ he caSt: It ‘3 “a”! it 0""19 occasion ‘0 “1‘”th ""3 doctrine Of the -.
I ms aplta arn. on the; tgnreadbare subject of maternal faults road official assured him that when a train that he. ‘3 mOdemle'y we” “if. ownlvgadrove Trinity—the three leaves growmg out from and be.
i E" (if llies ~ BELLE BRIGHT stopped at a station it was necessarv to keep it or pom“ .and a number Of cattle and “been mg a part or the same stem’ and possessed 0‘ tho _
‘ 7 an 0 I ' drawn t: ut otherwise the connecting pins and Buckhom-ls also an 0"! mormpn’ as he has four same me.
» Z ‘ links would‘be stolen from under the eyes of or five Wives to do his cooking and darning ATTORNEY. Kentucky was admitted to the Union ,
‘ A ,  L   the trainmen.

On every kilometer?“ along This novpl team of his has been in use several June lst i792, and Ohio Nov. 29th, 1802. Ohio has
ailway

Th 0 I P the line of the Mexican Central is yeam' be havmg caught the deer When they illiifigfigy0h£lgéglh3€$2l  nilllfigfug‘lllbfiipflggidlldlt‘l‘d;
'1‘ BE IVEN v e w  painted. in Spfinieh, an inscription substantially were small! In the “mum Who? the 3'10"“! ‘3 is now twice that of entucky. All free tates ro-
SOON 0 G - - thus: is This company will not be responsible covered Wlth 3110": BUCkhOI‘n hitches his novel grassed more rapidly in popii ation and wealth t tan

 

 

 

' ‘ ' team to a Sleigh al’ld goes dashing over the theulavo States.
The Hatchet. tor ersonal injury to or loss of life by an er- . .
A new work from the pen of this most pop ' son attempting to remove this post, as ll,er is countI'Y- H019“ Greenvme for Chico 3'99"?!“ Pomona. Ataday-wcdding at home, where only
ular delineator of wild Western life. It is in L0: the hamhetl )c plescnt. you do not require

a char 3 of d "mm", at the base!" Wood is day morning, and made the greater part of his forty peo le are to
it is mightier than the sword of a militia scarce End the; posts were a temptation to the thip over deep snow. Buckborn says he is on ushers. 'Fhe lady can wear as e abornte a toilet as
officer or any other cutlery, and he who pos- natives during the night, hence this warning his way to Shasta county, to v1s1t some of his hultiherhhuglyolh iqust wlegrdhlnIIcIk Il’i1nggoi'lvlbert
qualitY- ' 595598 il} is tlll‘ice armed, like the man Who fOl- Frequently the spikes haVe bPen drawn and a poop]? 3'0"?) “h3 Mfig’loud nver' In reply to a éghr-hggkitie 33). KSZhyanleat c?>lorgthaa)t suits :33: ' 

[OWS his "1"": mom” for bm‘filars- When railway tie abstracted during the night from quesuon w ?‘ er ls deer. team could Stand but you must noivwearawbitelawu tie. You can ' ~ 
Washington first took t e bark off of falsehood, beneath the track; it is as a protection from much travel, he said the animals never seem to 

. , , . . , wear light {gloves to match your bride’s. If she
    . and the cherry-tree, and Introduced truth in this vandalism that the telegraph poles on the gel? llred. and 1f Permltted WOUM 80 0n 8- dead wears a rea traveling-dress, with bonnet and dark
' the world, how little did he realize the great-

his favorite field and is a story of capital

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. . , run ’all day. The user outfit is now quartered gloves, you may wear a full suit of darkish clothes,
ness of his deed, or think that anybody at all 32$,anth or the rallway to ven cruz are at the rancheria 0n ancho Chico.” with dark fibres-*1" you send out ".0 card“, it '8 
Of the Superior Father. would ever follow his example! lThank good- hfiggtggefiy A0 cards, after the marriage notice in
. . .. f 3 ha e ot it severe . - I
IT is a favorite and frequent assertion with “gigofl‘fflg’. Emhgug It is a rich; thing than The catfiSh 0f the Waghoe Lake' The Roustabout. . L. H. 0- Cat S-eye is a gem. and a Very valuable
men that women never talk about anything but

all your proud heraldic crests painted on your THE catfigh at washoe LakeI New, haw-n one; and, at present, avery fashionable one. Gray,

the short “mings 0t their Servants and “19 “1' carriage-doors or the back fence. It grows all buried themselves in the mud at the bottom, ROOSTABOUTS the“ may be e18(9Whel‘6. after yellow, green and brown are the Predomith 001' ' u 1‘

leases and Perfection-‘1 of their *‘hddren- As brighter with use, if you know how to handle therein holding themselves in asemi-d‘ormant tl‘eif ‘findst W “m ’.°“St"b°“" 0’ ‘b" Missis‘ figsvl'él'égrcrfii’iiéli’ afli‘éiéirslmrfiofirfi" 331333535 ‘47

“ all men are liars "—IatIleast so David said in it and don’t cm, yourself With it.“ Armed with state, refusing to heed the begmlemehts of the Sippi rivegtitearhboat is 6le t0 Whom: alone: the at once, for it has the phosphoric glitter peculiar to 
.1 one of the Psalms—it is scarcely necessary to a’couple of them the 5,1,1“, editor can kill anglers, some miners the other day concluded name “3 y  0'18? . heme” he 13 the out' the eyes of cats. The finest cat’s-eyes are found in
 \ state that this is one of their little stock libs. enough of those reptiles in a single cave in his to play them a trick. The men, at the sug- come 0f certam condltlonsi 9‘ gro‘mh 0‘: the h“‘

D I t h f mid atmOsphere a generation of the e t Ge lonlamtl "€128: in Size—even “be larfeflfdttlliml; 
es ite the mascu ine assei' ion to t e contrar - - estion of one 0 their number who said that , ~ , I gr 9 a aze -nu . u Iwo laveI everI een can a I, 
wou‘len talk about a great deal besides theijr nallege:gaggszgsggozgggggl£21303 fin winter catfish always remained buried in "ver’s.mudd5’,waters- 01‘ Whether be Just is, were larger. One is in the imperial cabinet at Vl~ *
servants and their children: and upon those the frontier in an Indian raid with his trusty the mud until they heard the first thunder in and “0“” be ‘nd-ependent 0‘ all these’ cam“ Eggghanggzfiiiui‘h?aidigglfiislli‘ékglliimtwfis ‘ 
subjects can scarcely hold their own with many hatchet buékled at his side ’can km on: the the sprin , exploded a giant powder cartridge h." known' He 18 them’ a an or the Slrange have thg good forming to possess them one 0 ‘ ‘ 5
men. I have heard creatures of the masculine usual number of shakes Plates and Galoots on the s ore. Sure enough. the fish thought me Of that str‘lngeland' be true habitat of N R 1 It - ll 1 ft t. th lad t 
Penua‘i‘mv b0“ b‘Whelors and Benediasi house‘ even though he knows thht by depriving theni theV had heard it thunder: and swarmEd t0 the the rousmbout 15 the Steam-bogtflhe great 18)". decngg‘iinon'the st lgogewlgddi y sehe :efess' bu’t o? 
holders and men uniucumbered bya family or simply of “their rations of whisky. cards a“d surface. The men were delighted with the “bans 0f the Upper MISSISS'pp' and the Ohm: cl, Hg p ’

I _ _ . course 5 e shoul consult the gentleman. It cer- ’ 

‘tfl‘tz do m .“1 hour more EXtmvagant an? en‘ cartridges they would soon die of ennui, as it is success of their experiment, 813d were about the gorgeous pal“? 0f the Plantatmu trade; mainly is not wise to have a Wedding that is not in l"- 7

359%: Ealklpg upon me “dseijvant questuvi; " only a matter of timeI preparmg their books and lines when a new the little stern-whee ers that, like as many tur- keep ng with the means and social Standing of the 
n on mvos or mo ers o in a year. 0- ‘ "

I . . movement mm,” the fish attracted their ah tles, creep along ih the shallow tributaries famil . If. however. the lady's parents are Well-to
men have to do the most talking to the servants, baZ§§€a§d°fi§$t§2 figfifigoflrfiififfl 2 tentiou. As though some signal had been given “here, one”, one “fight Wade f0}: “mes “long do’ t-ey can give their. dang“?! as handso'“? a
but men do as “men taking about men-‘- Wo' mouth when he will come and fill your cellar 01‘ word Passea, ever-y calflSh. great and Small. the {Eds 0f the Streams: or those tmy prepeuers weddingsasfti‘lfybchgosg' ln‘eSchnhe or’fihetlfmtgd! - l

. men have to teach them, tell them, scold them, steps and probably not more, than half your turned toward the Sierras, stuck his head out dartmg around the mcesgapfi bends or sluggiSh Singefini'qono :eflgcfighogglon tiletiileIElieter‘: 'l'ius: 
be“ Wit? them; men, 9190mm them earnestly chlld'mn will have an opportunity to tumble of the water an inch or two, took.a long look, baYO‘m—b‘lt never 9" a 5311"? .Vessel- Through bandmor time it entail any extravagancge upon him, I k
and continuously behind their backs and are as down the old ones and break their necks before then disappeared beneath the waters of the the myslenous leading of affinity, obeying the that it is a costly afl’air while he is a LOOI‘ young
meek as lambs in their presence. As for the he is on hand to do the job. for something like lake—went down into the mud again. The Vague d‘9tates 9’ natural ieleCtlo'l 0" up from "Fm- 1" your .0353 we "3““0‘ “Vise 5’0“ “3 to What
fond mammas Whoa according to men, are eter- the truth will follow the hatchet in whatever miners now fired half a dozen cartridges—all the eddymg “71"” or caprlcmus 01.1. "umsmncesr kmd Of 9‘ ‘demg to have because yo“ State!” cjr‘ 

“any recounting the experiences and Ema“? sha o it may appear they had with them—at various points around 89°” or late the levee’swmte gust ‘3 left behind culnsmnces-"pon “:hwh we can base our adva' 2' ~ I“

1195593 0f their-Children, the." can "9"? one find Ap man with the .Washin tonian brand of the lake, but not a‘ fish showed itself. They h‘m’ the am" 0f *1 StFamboat 13 under his feel-9 A suitable gm to gwe your bnde won“ be anything ' " *'

a match in a. fond papa who talks all his friends g

. - nice, handsome, useful that you could afford—a .' 
sick recounting the perfections of “his boy n hatchet. with the sharp edge of it can easily had all taken a gOOd’ Square look at the 816"“ and the bet but meaningless oaths Of her VOL house and 10" a Cheek for some moneyv “ camel’s , ‘ ‘-

 

. . . . . . - - ' to are raining upon his indifferent head - . . ~ - -.
I I s ht the dlfi'erence Wlth hls he, hhor_th l, Nevada range and had seen that it was still camcma __ - hair shawl, a sealskin cloak, a fur-lined ciicular, a
II on the whole Ithmk u honors” may he “much “l3 there is a difference between tghem andf‘ho‘: White with sno’w. . A negro of greater Ior less blackness of skin set of jewelry, any handsome piece of jewelry, or
cred “easy ” between men and women on that (,5: it is for the editorial owner of O’ne t t .— and corresponding thickness of skull, he is a dis— any handsome work of art or piece of furniture for
, scoreI There are some fools in the world butG My _ _ _ _0 011 Ch . N t unct article in the steamboat's equipment ahmise. You must be guided in your selection by 
. they are not all of one sex. But there is; one Off the bgads 9f ponuca‘] rOOSterS-th It Who ‘ agglng.  ure' rarely thrdwing off the roustab‘out nature td What you can am‘mv “hat 3”” 3mm)" in m" "'3 a "v;
thing that a woman does not do and a man has go about in a fi audulent way crowmg Iand tell- TULARE LAKE in California has during the become a mqnber of the regular crew and no young couple will be, and what she would like or » ._‘
~‘ done; She does not entertain a ,crowd of stran- 13% 3311:: 3,212,253 33:13: Efiggscented wnh truth I?“ few years been rapidly dryjng "pl and “1.9 longer Clamber “P Slippery banks 01‘ mire in the need' ‘
gers. in a. public conveyance, with narrations ' ' time 13 apparently not far (“stem When It

II I I I I I I I I blue mud of the swam I Perfor i I OLD SUBSCRIBER. It is ilnpcmlévn for your bride
other children’s virtues and her own su e- Yoll “111 nouce thatfihls mule artlde 0f hard‘ W1" cease ‘0 EXISt- W‘thm the memory 0f men extremest drudgery o? the vesszrl’sngefigiise “ll: “3 acknow'edge verbal!“ or by a mu” Her-7’ wed-

. . . _ P ware in the abstract is endowed with asmall fl] 1' ’ '5 th' 3 .ch 1 . l v , . ‘ . ' - . ding-sift. however snial. that was sent you. Oc- 
Horny of parental authonty It ,3 true _. ‘ S 1 1V1“?! 1 V735 .11 y 1'99 “,1le 008 3"“ seemsa feature With which she may readily dls- caqiona" the br' 19" 1 0m:- ll . n l; l) 'l '5
that it has been reported that once a lady but handy 10011: “Vlapce fOI thep-urpose 0f gra-w‘ twenty f‘lmr “mes Wlie'. To‘dgy It“? only “pout P9135", 5’93 “0 Dart—411 theory OI‘ in practice in maid (if film. is “mum-fie}: sidéi-fhmllis {htlsenhg  ‘V
at the opera. upon the sudden and unex biggies gag: £13323,i‘gfigeltfilangrreludlc: fifteen miles long anIdIeight miles wide, helm! H the abstract or in the concrete, animate or life- kuowledgments verbally/[at ‘ the bridal reception, ‘ '-
, pected cessation of the chorus, shriny an t e lameWOI‘ shrinkage in superhCial area of more than 650

 

_ , I _ I I I I less—43 more an indis usable factor b _ to each donor as be or she comes forward to con- , i;
nounced to the audience as well as to the and,5'“s Of 59018” t “Pd It Cheaply does} 800d miles. The cause of this drying up is largely pe t an be gi'atulate the happv con ile: but the usual plan, and 
friend with whom She was conversin “We days work in eXperienced hands. With Ithe due to human agency. Probably the extensive _—-—— the. one in beIsttas-te. is or the hrideto write a little L

try ours in butter", But some newqpagépman poll Of It you can hammer your argument into system of ilrigatiou recently put; in operation Focused Pacts note. to each lIiiIiIlivilluiil. thanking that imlivioual'l'or

probably concocted that little angcdoteI and the heads of your opponents and clinch it. in the vicinity are mainly the cause of the sub ° 1"“ 0" 1"" ’4'!" I" 5'0"" "We “"5 must be don“

 

_ , I [f \Vashington‘s little hatchet; had not been sidence‘ Near] an the rivers and brooks which , You should iiotInllow your wife to neglect to do so
ill: 201131111133 1;) ghghgrtgazgliywtfirfllhw blithelo‘ PM “Fm his hands We do “0‘ know and 081mm} have acted as fieders to Tulare Lake have been .A NUMBER Offegm'” boarders in a San Fran'  1(le'l'lilti‘l gig-’12“? Emil: 3r linimt‘
. dreadful accident that caused {aim W123 Emagmei 8? we S‘t 0‘13 0" the baCk fenl‘e think- tapped. In some cases they have been entirely “so” howl '9.” Insunedflnd Went away because to promptly tllflllk'l’tllgtptel‘;0n (iv in Stflt it m Y‘dli
known her private affairs to the ears O?“th mg about 1t, what our country would be nOIw, diverted from their natural com-3,5, and have Johnny Sullivan and his gang of pugilists were should make out a list of every person who sent
publicI BM this man with deliberate intent lts handle is of the hesthood, and the Chips been made to minister to the reclamation of received as guests. you agift and son that your wife writes the notes
he “aimed some fort ‘90 18 with hi Ibld ,1 that are backed from the immortal cherry tree arid districts for agricultural purposcs. And in Mns. GAINES the famous litigant. denies that ""mm'm‘dy' Of Wm” Sh" "'"st Wm“ l" “ms” 0‘
'iq , YP F S! I fell: of truth dafly fall all around us and it is easy a few ears ever anon of wat Wh- h l . - h D - fl.t ‘ ‘ your friends who sent presents as u'cllastohcrown,
. rtues and his own excellences. He was a to h” m hahk t ’ y yg er m How 81813 "c ‘ unng ' 5' years or “To”; 51‘" has
, ; gentleman of the legal persuasion and his com- ‘ r ‘ e '

. . . . —SOlllf‘lllllt‘S )(‘I‘SOXIS Wllt) llrt‘ (lllllUSi; .‘l [T ll ' ‘l‘. t
Wh t . l, Id M h b h empmes mt,“ ,T'l‘are Lake WI“ be earned "0t recovered “tough property to pay her 10W- a lll‘ldt‘ and glrooin send them :1. gift shiilll will: 0‘!)
panic“ was ahoa lawyerI It was to this friend IFI ",lflt'le “gm 137131} 3V9 99% t 6 9011‘ through artificuil channels to hundreds of farms yers, and she Is now in straitened cii'eum- cmnpllnwnt to some near relative or the. hrl( al pair;
that he addressed his conversation. but with sequu'w] '6 on 0 1: country‘ “V 0 was net wmcn would otherwme be or l'ttle value' lhe

yen {ha Father of it had taken the old h nd 1, t . . t t. h _ I 01‘llSfllhllSllll‘SS('(lllll'lt‘S to lire. parents; than gift“
the ver evident conviction that it Wfl ' r a ‘ ac is in eres ing as s owmg not on y what D0 , GINO iI . . must )e acknowcdgci by note as promptly and
only highly entertaining to his companioz, 31(1): saw {El-(1891:“! “.19 Cherry tree d9wn and the“ man can d0 t0 remedy the defidem‘ies 0" ’na‘ Ptiila(d:l$liia. ThreeciliZlhlh‘heaigoggigrlggglot’ial km“)? as any “that
x m uld he edjfying and instructive to every one SBWG 1t 1113- What *1 burlesque 1‘3 "OHM have ture. but to what a large extent be may change '

y . . _.l
- - - ls- ' . . - l . ()nizuoiv. I.tiqueltc is not iii-ode of manners I?
Present. been upon all that is poetical, beautiful and the face of nature. In this case there is proha- ya“ " the dogs evmw meat mten’“ 1" the which only rich people med to know “ml I)l‘a(-ti(-p_ . .f

 

 

stances.

. true, for us to so that we have one of Wash- ‘ - , -- competitlont and speculation is lively l" the Tlir-rMS nutva 01mg man or bung w man .«u mnr ' 
After 3 flewdremarks abou‘ busmess’ thh “85011.5 li‘tle [laid-53W“ 01‘ What if, 83 the  {lgkgflllfitoiln 0!: tgll‘ia'érgghli‘llg‘odfddt‘hlglg  bemmg ""g- ‘ orI lmrd-worki’ilg but he or .yslic Hllllll‘l’tll be i'lllll’illnl‘ 
We“ ma e 0“ 1y enough to “time‘s th‘? “We” avers l w lld h - ' ' - - FOURTEEN voun o f I) M ‘ “'llllallihegollifl‘fll requircinentsof mod manners. '
“on 0‘ a“ the People around: tms superlor per‘ the fagtgefyt 1(1)]? ( 0’ hed ad tlul'qwddm(“113ml t(I) Stances human Interference th nature has re“ an ouhhqtra S Tang, gut? 0' es lenses fongd Some of the most iliiis‘iell Kt‘llilt‘llll'llkalld charming 4'
. 0 5 5011 an 6X0 8m"? i " 8 . sulted disastrousl . ,' - i ‘ l '18") are (ea an t- e . . , ..  '  . ' a}
:giliiecsi'ilnjssctfigggdalzodfgiglilfdltftch‘ifilggg :3: F’flIlnot prevaricate; my little brother Bill Idid y lsurvlvors. convinced that some fatality is fol- 1:31:3(lnoll‘glgl‘3: thllsltlltlrillgr‘ht‘t‘l‘lll tll'lllfl: n '  “i
v - - , , n t - ‘ - , >

wearying and flying to the nervesI and that a it With his fl idle bow. There would have been I ProSperous Women in Dakota" (“mg the Orgalnzat’lon) have repented and

. no potent spell in the hatchet for our benefit joined a chuich iiidiighfihu1131331}?cilia: 'm-ifldc" tlnkllow (“I’m-lid”?-
woman who had had children about her during The hatchec would have he , th- ' AN instance known to our readers, says a ‘ - . —-which is tliif‘gruunil-dzol'lgr >1“ ris: misf‘lmnhy:
the day, probably did, occasionally, feel seme- more than a common t 1 en 0 us no mg Dakota paper is that of a young widow who  VERY perslmslve rascal Induced a 39ml)" ners: and all the graces of sol-la? beliil‘lll I :llllnale
what used up when night camoI Really it when G W II 0(tI).d III h t h hI came to LisbzmI took a praemp'ion Claim to of ignorantIlllinOis women to cut of! their hair rules of social illfo}(-,(,u,§ge they 195...“. by
would have been refreshing to hear one man in own”. h . dI I. p esgIn e thIis a c at to 18 160 achSI proved up and got a “do to her land nnd intrust it to him to be made up into fash- themselves: as all yimng people with hood oars,
the universe admit that fact, even so lame,“ be aIéoy,fie (llc 11:5 D0 eat t lug as he did when then took another claim under the Homestea lonable forms. They expected to thus achieve good eyes. a memory, ('niilnlon-seuse, and a desire
if his reason for making the admission had not we inhegitiff u .15 8x01. 1 0-1:" Through one law of 160 more on which she is now living- a permanent and beautiful Style 0! “mm”? ‘0 bemw" weu‘ "my a”: If 3"" Stop m ask you"
been so apparent immediate” afterv When ‘ e in ' throu - bible 012% 103a girdle 0f 1:imt'h-teu- and, as the possessor of 320 acres of the richest tun-they never saw the man or the material 3553959313,?“ lull-lair“ ("1‘th flung cgnqlmm'g
declared that just the sight of the children and we? ’piease geverv dayelhfugml. fith tori]? July} as soil upon God's tootstool, she is of course 00n~ agam' annoyl);'wfinfi.’.l“..ll}   l{g:$;ll;‘ll)lllit§htlg
the sound of their voices when he got home was as the sword is “the emblem of om’. em “‘3 sidered worth having; and several bachelors in ONE of the results of the local temperance iiiisundersliind my mull-“ls. is it poi-feotly kind and
$223371:ng thiehhn; kISelfisb (I;-Irteihturea Even that sharpness, the hamth is the smug??? fire the vicinity are glaring at each other with fire movIement in Georgia is a generalrevival in the Kettlt‘tl‘0u& and (tolfs‘illvl'nth{on will be Prt‘l'l"SIlrls
not willing to frallikfvildnmlitibhgna glitch: 3:; preamble cheri‘yl’ulneSS. of our devotion to our 1" the“ eyes and hatred 1” the“ hearts toward earn lemm'e busmess' Jugs are now “59d m "0 0 mt v‘ n H” ammy

 

 

I _ tom the rules of cti~ ,,
I I I I I their rivals transportmg “quors from one town to another quette. I‘liis lH l‘ully illustrated in the case of which 5.
With the children was en . . , Fathers. 9f our sacred and lDYlolable integrity . . . : . - . .’ 5'0“ Spfiak- “ “'ll ' Slim!“ 11 “31‘5"” m down" '1“ i m“
woman out. He was onlvoxlzlllliut; tedlil‘  ‘1’; 0f word in everyday transactions, and as such The Same antborlty asserts that m “"5 Same and or com SE was ls a great demand ‘01 these 3 I g

, . _ . MI _ I invitation say uln/ it isdcclinml?" Because not to 
that a mother or a teacher was “sometimes” m Ollgbt‘ by am; Of congress' to be blazoned on tqwn or Lleon there an I!“ a {PW' servant-  Snufzémers analgents‘me now 98- my Why it is downed is to "em the ""3"" “brim:
weary Then he proceeded to’informhisaudience Our shield rampant. It is $0, on the coat of- 12"“ who have taken up 013"“ ""1 mum" to “ "g pp” m seven eorg'“ town' for

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

  
  
 

   
   
 
 

    
   
 
  

 
 
   
   
  
   
  
   

 

 

 

 

   
   

   
   
  

  
   
     
   
   
  
 
 

     
  
 
  
 

 

 

 

I I you a kindness or hospitality with :i rudeness that it
s of his virr d s If .fi . d. . . arms of Yours truly, Ollltlvate them by contract. “Probably any a Supply of Jugs. not only rcllt'cls great discredit upon youtsvll', but 7’9,
H k ""103: :1” h ih'safcrl’ "mg leIosition. SOLOMON SHINGLEI ope of them,” he asserts, I“could realize from CHINAMEN have fitted up a gymnasiumin San “my F'VGISII'ItVM lfflm. NO ""190" ‘0‘," hI'lliIlllly you "
I e. no new e ge t a e e t like ordeiing the $000 to $i50 each for their land. One young Francmco Most of the apparmmi A . I know a litinnll. hi how inuch It on dislil... 0110,5130
“ Children to ” Shun “Pl” when he R'E’BClled home *— lady,who is clerking in one of the stores in townb but there is a contrivance of Chines: 03:33:31, X‘DUSLHIII?" repay a 'cmmy mm a“ int-mm)" To
K and heard them Chat’teringi but mat he always is the ossessor of a number of town lot: l1; heav u i t. ))s K h‘ ' I My’ .. am a pfzmmus engag‘lnmn'" "my mm“
ll Effralnfed, and allowed them to hav9,their little A WOOL exchange has been established at additiog to several quarter sections of ldnrl. Thelives:sggiogdhlezistfingtthddztdghzd :‘lzllvfx‘fllinfzhlh? li‘l’llgogllltl' lflg‘l‘lr?'l:ll}?t.lttlflbtlfif 'l u
a' “it”. afghan?“ n? "lathe? ‘Vrhatglzltfi’f‘é tfirml‘fi POFDlaDgl. Oregon, for the piirpnse of grading The land is Worth probably $25 an acre. but can be made hard or easy to lift by it. This is gi‘gt‘dln (llive at Mrs. R’s," or “I am to receive a 
I :l . bans; thzuIiIl; Icgsgrhiuhh  II?“ in I, Elev: in find Itriilmg the woolls okaregcn and W ashing- she came into possession of it by taking admin for developing the muséleg of the forearm and fC‘anl'lgllds at Iljmmcthat evening," it shows mm, mu ‘ i‘h
. *‘ .‘ ‘ a ‘7‘ ~ ‘ 9 - e ‘9“ “11 “I'l‘llorlé's. am his indr Portland the w001 ta e of the re—ein tiou homestead .iud  . — r - t A  . . A . -- “’9 .V 8'0 '0 “Nine the invitation. and s inrt’s th -. I
read his friend a small lecture upon the treat‘ mart of the great Northwest. g p p the “ “at. The handle In “on glabped’ mm the “ "3‘" I t

 
  
 
 
  
 

claim law‘s.

  
  

 

cs.

 , , - . _ lemon whoiiivlt‘ " “ ~- ‘ _‘ 'r . -' .
lb plated on it, With the arm nearly vertical. finned. U1 you from “thug \hblm'd‘ m m

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Young Prairie Centaur;

01d Kit Bandy, the Border Sleuth.

AUTHOR OF “ WHIP-KING Jon,” “BABY SAM " ETC. ETC.
1 9 ,

ON the banks of the Arkansas rivera few miles
below \Vhisky-hhmine, Little Buckskin and three of
the amateur hunters were encamped, awaiting the
return, or rather the coming, of Kit Bandy and Bob
Malvern.
of! to follow Bob and his captors, they had gone
over to the river, as Kit had instructed them to,
there to await his reappearance. '

With his usual precaulion Buckskin had selected
a camp flanked on two sides by perpendicular clith
and the other two sides by dense undergrowth.
Here they lighted a fire and prepared supper, after
which they sat down to discuss the situation.

When night set in Deck Rollins took the first
watch by the river—not that they feared danger so
much as that Kit might pass ti
from where their camp was located.

About ten o’clock Rollins was relieved by younr
Lawrence, and a few minutes after the latter but
gone. on duty his ears were greeted by a faint sound
that seemed to come from up the river. It was unlike
'any sound he had ever heard, in the open night,
and he could not imagine what produced it.
only heard at intervals, and eac
.ed it seemed to be coming nearer and nearer. It
sounded like. the cry of a child—a baby, but that the
youth thought was impossible; yet he was afraid to
report to his friends through fear of never hearing
the last of it. So he stood at his post until the sound
came so close that it reached the ears of those at
cam‘p, and brought them down to the river.

lb
Buckskin.

“ You tell," replied Lawrence; “ there‘s some
kind of a racket going on out yonder on the river
that 1 can’t; understand.”

The moon was up, and as its light fell upon the
bosom of the river they were enabled to see what
appeared to be a canoe floating at the will of the
current near the middle of the stream, some few
rods above them.

“ There goes an empty canoe," said Buckskin,
“or one that seems to be empty, and yet the noise
appears to come from that direction.
that sound to you like a cry?”

“ Yes, like a baby‘s cry,” responded Rollins.

The boys all laughed.

“ The idea of a baby being out here in the moun-
tains floaiin
surd ” said little Buckskin, " but l’ll be paralyzed
if I on’t b’lieve it’s the case.”

. “ Where on earth could it have come from?”

“I reckon somebody up the river has had more of

. them than they could take care of and sent akid
afloat,” was Buckskin’s opinion; “just listen to its
cries!” _

“ Maybe it’s a decoy to get us into trouble?” sug-
gested Rollins. I .

“It can’t be, Deck: that. cry is too genuine. It
makes me feel a liomesickness in the breast that
tells me there’s a baby in that canoe, and if there
is any one with it he or she is dead or asleep, and
I’m going to see about it." _ I

Ashe concluded Little Buckskin began divesting
himself of his clothing, and finally, when the boat
was nearly opposit: him he plunged into the river
and struck out, swimming with ilic case. and rapid—
ity of a beaver~cairying his hunting-knife between
his teeth in case of neceszity. .

His fiiends watched him in eagerness and silence,
their eyes beaming with a. light of admiration for
the fearless young hunter.

Half the distance to the middle of the stream was
made. when to the horror of the young amateurs,
they beheld the head of a man in the water who
was swimming toward the boat from the oppOSite

horcl . ,
“ li'cat heavens! that is a trap Set for our friend! ’

exclaimed Deck Rollins. _ ”

some one approaching from the opposite shore.

Whether the boy heard the warning or not, he
swam on, and finally reached the canoe.

Standing erect iii the water by treading, be. 'aught
hold of the gunwaic of the boat and peered overinto

opposite side of the craft, and a face lit up With a
malignant smile was revealed to the. youth is gaze.

At aglaiice Buckskin I‘CCOglllZHl it as that of an
inveterate, foevan outlawed cowboy, a. folIOWer of
Utah Bill named Paschal _ _

An oath burst from the villain’s lips when be dis-
covered the presence of the boy hunter, and he
made. a grab at his throat: but, quick as a flash,
Buckskin dropped down behind the canoe, thereby
eluding the outlaw’s

With bated breath t ie. three amateurs stood mo-
tionless gazing with fixed eyes upon the boat. They
saw, even from where they were, both Buckskin
and theoutlaw rise at the side of the boat. . _
heard the latter’s oath, and then saw Buckskin dis-
ap ear.

struggle goii'g on at the side of the frail craft, which
was violently rocking upon the agitated. water.
They could catch glimpses of the strugglin
as they rose to the surface. They saw the flas of a
knife in the hand of one of the combatants; then the
canoe drifted away from the Scene of the conflict.
Was Little Buckskin slain?

The struggle was ended, when the three spectators
beheld the survivor strike out after the boat.
whi b one? . .
fliefe was not a doubt. and the fear that it was their
friend, Little Buckskin. who had perished filled the
bretsts of the amateurs with a horrible suspense.

in which still lay the crying babe.

. . , v . d
nounced Rollins, in a husk}. voice. as he hovere
over the very edge of the water, in lizs eagerness to
learn the truth.

head of aswimmer rise above the gun wale, then dis—
appear again. ’
bark turned slowly in the current and began to
move toward the southern shore!

hills burst from the. lips of the amateurs. Then"
friend lived and was coming ashore With the canoe.

finally reached the shore, a few rods below wlu~ re
the young hunter had left his three friends.

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

Fireside Ballads.

BY THE RIVER.

BY HARTLEY CA MPBELL.

 

By the bank of a beautiful river,
Where the rim of the waters was white.
And the grasses so tall were ashiver
in time gloom of the fast falling night:
Where the shadows of bills were reflected
In the heart of the hurrying stream,
And the rays of the sun were deflected,
We awoke. from our passionate dream.

And the. clouds, like great ships on the ocean,
Spread their sails in the freshcning breeze,
And the moon, like a beacon in motion,
Sailcd a way with them over the trees.
And the song which the boatmaii sung gladly,
Keeping time to the noise of his oar,
Came faintly, pulsating and sadly,
Like an echo from Lethcan shore.

But her lips were as scarlet as ever,
And I yeai bed for one amorous kiss,
While her eyes were more eloquent never,
And her smile had its quantum of bliss;
But my pride whispered to me of duty,
And ] silenced the words on my tongue,
And I turned my gaze ’way from her beauty—
Was it foolish? Ah, Well, I was young.

Had she sorroch f01 words that were spoken;
Had she made but the slightest advance;
Had she gave me some sign or a token
That. our mtetin was more than a chance;
Had she gave me 1 e ribbon that bound her:
Had she gave me one glance from her eyes;
Or a thread of the gold floating round her,
Might we both not have known brighter skies?

But; the boatman’s song died in the distance,
And the yellow mists closed in the scene,
And [ offered no sign of resistance
When she tripped away over the green;
Though I knew she would not have resented
Had I held her in one fond embrace,
And I knew she would there have relented
Had I kissed but her beautiful face.

And in this way a romance was ended,
And in this way a life was o’ercast,

And in this way an old love was rended,
And my heart became part of the past.

But still the old time will come o’er me
As I sit in the shadow of years,

And that sad scene will rise up before me
Like a mirage of beauty in tears.

Little Buckskin,

 

 

on,

 

BY OLL COOMES,

 

CHAPTER X.
A LITTLE WAIF IN CAMP.

Being unable to find Kit, who had started

em by Hill ibserved

. It was
i time it was repeat-

liat’s the matter down here, boy?” demanded

Boys, don’t

around in a. canoe seems awful ab-

“Ho, Buckskin! there's

As he di.i so, a head rose from the water on the

rasp.

They
be next moment they saw evidence of a terrific

foes

But,
That one of the twain had been killed

A few strokes carried the swimmer to the canoe,

‘Now we will soon know who was killed,” an-
They saw the canoe stopped; again they saw the
The next moment the prow of the
A i-hout that rung in merry echoes through the

Slowly the craft pushed across the current and

“‘Ililnuu'”

   
 

 

The boys were there to welcome their leader.

“ You got the baby, didn‘t you, Bucksic?” cried
Rollins, joyfully.

“ Yes, boys, but I had to fight for it,” replied the
youth.

“ Who with? Ingin or outlaw?”

“ Outlaw of the first water.”

“ He may be the father of this child, Buckskin.”

“ Father of nothin': but it's a good thing 1 took
my knife, for Jule Paschal is a big, stout brute
tliat’d soon fixed me if I hadn’t made him feel
homesick in the stomach with my knife. But,
boys, take up that kid and bring it to camp.”

Deck Rollins stooped and lifted the crying infant
in his arms and started to camp.

Little Buckskin donned his clothes and reached
cam ) as soon as his friends.

A ew )inc sticks were thrown upon the fire, and
a bright iglit lit up the eager, anxxous faces of the
four youths.

The infant was closely wrapped in shawls, and
laying it tenderly upon t e ground Rollins proceed-
ed to unwrap it so that they could see its face.

‘_‘An Ingiu baby, by smoke!” burst from Buck-
skin s lips as his eyes fell upon the child’s face.

It was a tiny lump of humanity not over four or
five months old—a boy baby which, when unrollcd
from the wraps around it, was entirely innocent of
a stitch of clothes.

In silent wonder the group stood and gazed upon
the child. For once in his life buckskin Phil was at
his wits’ ends.

“ BO 8, what in thunder are we going to do with
the ki . now that we have drawn it?”

“ Well, what indeed?” repeated Deck Rollins.

The boys exchanged glances. There was a con-
fused, puzzled look upon each one’s face.

“ It‘s a pretty little critter ” confessed Buckskin,
“ and must be cared for till c aimed by its owners.”
. After being set at liberty from the confinement of
its wraps. the baby hushed its cries, and crowded its
chubby fist into its mouth, kicked up its fat feet and
gazed up at the dancing flrelight on the rocks over-
hanging the camp.

“The little scamp’s hungry as a wolf,” decided
Buckskin; “just see it chaw its fist. Boys, what in
the nation are we going to do with it ?"

“ Isn’t there any women up at Whisky-Famine?”
asked Rollins.

“Not a woman that I know of, unless she came
there within the past two months. but I have an
idea this cub’s mother can be found, and as soon as
day comes I’ll take a hunt for a mother for our
waif. Hello ! hear the little chunk tuning up
again i”

The baby began to cry, and stooping over it Little
Buckskin wrapped a light shawl around it and lifted
it in his arms and endeavored to quiet it.

Sharp and shrill its cries rung out through the
night 7—a strange sound indeed to be heard in the
bivouac of the boy brigade— a strange sight, indeed.
to see the young borderman pacing to and fro with
a babe in his arms-talking, singing and whistling to
it in his endeavors to quiet it.

The child finally went to sleep, when Buckskin

 

the work!
yawp!
detective began singing and whistling to quiet the
baby, and the boys began to laugh vociferously.
The baby cried itself to sleep, then Kit carefully
wrapped it up, and settling himself in an easy posit ion

Oh. you little savage, hush up your
There, there—whew! wlicwl” and the grim

held the litt e waif in his arms with the tenderness
and solicitude of one whose very soul seemed en-
chanted.

Deck Rollins fluallv went back to the river and
took his position as watch. He had not been there
long ere he was starnled by the appearance of a
cloaked-figure from the shadmvs of some shrubbery
on his left. It was the figure of a. woman. who ap-
proached him with slow footsteps—as if in doubt as
to whether he was a friend or foe; and to relieve her
of all fears be advanced toward her, saying:

“ Madam, have no fears of me; I am a friend!”

“Oh. thanks, senor," she replied, in a sweet, mu-
sical voice that touched a tender chord in the young
man’s breast.

As the woman ap )roached nearer she dropped the
cloak, worn hood-h 0 over the head, to her shoul-
ders, and the moonbeams falling full upon her re-
vealed a face exquisite in its loveliness.

It was a young face—the face of the maiden,
Zonita Alvandez.

“Madam,” Rollins said, “ I hope you are not lost.”

“ No, senor, I came here in searc of—”

“ A child ?—a baby?”

“Ahi then on have found it?” exclaimed the
maiden, joyful y.

“ Yes, it is at camp. We found it in a canoe adrift
on the river. Come, I will conduct you to our camp.”

“Thank you, senor: you are very kind,” and the
girl followed the youth to camp.

“Friends,” announced Rollins, as they entered the
radist of light,” here is a lady in search of our little
wai .

“Indeed?” exclaimed Old Kit, rising to his feet
with the babe in his arms. “Well, my fair woman.
here’s your baby safe and sound though hungrier
’ii a lit! e bear.”

The girl blushed to the ti 5 of the ears.

“Senor. it is not my chil .”

“Oh, pardon me, miss,” Bandy returned, some-
what confused, “I might ’a’ known it. But do you
know whose it is?"

“ it belongs to an Indian woman who lies very low
at m father’s cabin,” responded Zonita.

“ 'here does your father reside?”

“ Up toward the miners’ camp of Whisky-Famine.”

“ And your name?”

"Zonita Alvandez.”

“ You are a Spanish lady?"

"Yes, sir.”

“ \Val. l’ll swear I didn’t know thar war a woman
within forty’leven miles 0’ here. Be your father a
miner?”

“Not exactly, senor,” the girl replied somewhat
evasively.

“ Excuse me, little one,” said Old Kit, apologetic-
ally; “I’m a terrible old fool to ax questions when
I git sot a-goin’. But, I’ll turn this little kid over to
you now, for I reckon you can handle it a little nim-

 

 
    

 

‘rlvillllllllllllull'

 
 

“ Yes, the mother of that infant lies in our cabin
dangerous] wounded by the bullet of her husband
and would- e assassin. It was he who sent the boat
adrift with their child, and when she had dra ged
her bleeding form to our cabin, and told me w iere
she had left her child, I came in search of it for her.
She IS an Indian woman—her husband is a white
man.”

“ He must be a dreadful villain,” declared Rollins.

" He is a bad man. senor, and it is him we fear.”

“ Where is he now?”

“ At Whisky-Famine, I suppose.”

“ And his name?”

“To father and I he is known as Captain Byron
Postle: in the Indian village where he married his
Squaw wife, he is called White Pine."

h_“ Are you threatened with immediate danger from
im .'

“We are, senor; before to-morrow night. Oh, I
wish I dare reveal all to you i”

“And why not?”

“ Because our tongues are tied, senor.”

" There is some mystery about your and your fa-
ther’s life, I see, Miss Alvandez.”

The girl made no re ply to this. They walked on
in silence. Finally the twinkle of a light some dis-
tance ahead fell upon their gaze. Rollins called at-
tention to it.

“ it shines from our cabin, senor,” explained the
maiden.

“Perhaps you would rather that we go no further,
Miss Alvandez?”

"You are very thoughtful, senor; I do not know
how my father would accept your presence. He is
a strange man.”

"Then we’d better go no nearer,” decided Buck-
skin Phil.

"May I make a request of you, senor?” the girl
asked, her hand still resting upon young Rollins's
arm.

“ Certainly, Miss Alvandez.”

“Will you and your friends not come and camp
near our cabin for a day or two?”

“ Nothing would afford me greater pleasure, Miss
Alvandez,” replied Rollins.

“ I fear something dreadful is going to happen un-
less we have the help of friends. If you come to-
morrow it may be that father will give me per-
mission to tell you all. You see I trust you, gentle-
men, with all my heart.”

“We be e we will prove worthy of that trust,” re-
turned Ro ins. gallantly.

“Miss,” said the more outspoken Little Buckskin,
“ I think you are a pretty nice girl, and we’ll be
around this way to-morrow, and if an bod offers
harm or insult to a hair of your hea we’l make
them bow down in the dust. Kit Bandy’s all broke
up on this little Ingin, and I know he’ll be glad to
come.”

Having thus spoken, Buckskin placed the child in
Zonita‘s arms, and bidding her good night, the two
turned and began retracing their footste s toward
camp, where they arrived in due course 0 time.

They found their friends anxiously awaiting their
return, and to them they at once made known all

 

tucked it away in its shawls and robe and laid it at
the foot of the great rock.

“ Boys.” said the young borderman, “there are
Ingins around here somewhere, sure as death. That
baby hasn’t come alone very far, and it behooves us
to look out or we may git our hair banged. I guess
I’ll go out here and stand guard a while and look
out for Bandy. You fellers ’d'better let this_flre go
out, but take good care. of little smoke-skin over
there. Keep your fingers on your weapons, your
eyes open and your ears pinned back."

With these words of precaution the Centaur
walked away, leav‘ing the amateurs seated around
the waniu cam -.ire.

Scarcelyghnif En hour Sad passed when the. three

ard voices down near ie river.
he“ By goodness!” exclaimed Rollins, “there’s the
voice of Kit Bandy! ’ .

“ I wonder if Bob is safe?"

They sprung to their feet and started toward the
river. but. ere they had gone far, they were met by
Little Buckskin, Old Kit, and Bob Malvern, and then
for awhile joy reigned supreme in that mountain
bivouac. .

Old Kit seated himself by the fire. feeling some-
what jaded after his long tramp, while Bob Malvern
threw himself upon the. ground. declaring that he
had about enough recreation and exCitement to do
him during the rest of his natural life.

Old Kit was called upon for his story of the ad-
ventures cf the day, and without preludehe started
out in his usual happy vein. But, all or a sudden,
there arose a shriek behind'bim, and With a. yoop
the old detective sprung to_his feet. ‘

“Hillflugins!” he exclaimed, “ war that 8;,LOIV'-
manche war-whoop?—the scream 0’ a hyena?

The boy hunter and his three companions burst
into a peal of laughter, for they had kept the pre-
sence of the baby in camp 8. secret from Kit and Bob.

" Kitsie,” explalilned Little Buckskin, there s a

' ‘ that. bunt e.’
baggage” and Old Kit betrayed his utter aston-
lbl‘l‘nYeeIilsfna genuine baby; we found it afloat in a boat
A iver.”
Oll‘tl’lysdeirl, by the blast o’ Joshua’s horn !" the veteran
detective exclaimed, advancmg toward the handle
from whence shriek after shriek was issuing, what
in the name 0’ the Redeemer s to come next? Yes,
sir bv the saluted mother 0’ old Adam! it s a baby
——a rcal meat baby—Ingiu at that; but, by snakes,
he’s a. royal little dumpliii’ for all that. Come up
here, vou little rascal,” and the old inan took up the
child and walked back to the fire With it and seated
himself. “ Lordy, boys,” be went'on, his vOice half-
clioked, “it’s been many a_day since I ve heard a
baby cry. and many a year Since I‘vefelt one squirm
in these old hands. Bv jinksl the Sight _0 the httle
rip mellows me all up, bovs. See them little chuffy
arms and legs, and t em fat fists and feet 1_ Ar n t
he a royal little rooster? It don'tseem pdssmleihat
l Ka-ristopher Ko—lumbus Bandyuwar ever a kitten
like this—that my old mother who 5 been dead these
many year.-, ever dandled me around like this. Boys,

it makes my old heart homesick. Here we set. the

.. . ,
two extremes o’ manhood—the baby’s 31st startin

' ’ ' ’ ' —he’s comin’on—
up the hill and I m comin down '_ . ‘1 d
’ ' ’ ' 'sdawnin t0hlm—-bt\lllghtbla ers
Imam!) Off—day“ gAh, you little coyote!

are atlierin’ before me. I .
you‘ige hungry as a bear, and no teeth fOi sohd food.
You are ’n'a ba'l fix, little one.

mi ht res ore. you to your folks
cage driftin’ down the river in a canoe, alone?"
“ Yes,” Buckskin answered.

" liin’ ’s roin’ wrong somewhar,” Kit went
cii‘s‘9imtfgta hardgheart that ’d desert as nice little
‘ It's not its mother’s fault that it 3
here, vou "an gamble your last cent on that. see the
little thing look up at me: Heavens! I ve a‘mind to
biieit! A baby alers did break me up—_yoop. here it
7 ‘ (jot i’P‘JllltIl‘ lngin lungs. even

coon as this.

goes again on a yell.

 

if it is half white. J whim! don‘t it buckle down to

If you could only

' ll 5 whence ’ou came, we
onbutton your lip and te u Alyd so the rat

 

/
They saw the flash of a. knife, then the canoe drifted away. Was Little Buckskin slain?

bler ’n I can. We’re a lot 0’ boys, miss, frolicking
’round up here for sport, and now we’re not gom’
to let you go back alone through this night. Here,
Buckskin, you and Deck Rollins I appoint as a com—
mittee to see this gal and baby safe to the gal’s
home, and if ye don’t want to go, 1, Kit Bandy, my.
self will go.”

But, Little Buckskin and Rollins were only too
glad to escort the lovely girl, and announced their
willingness to go at once

So Buckskin Phil took the baby and as they
turned to leave, young Rollins offered Zonita his
arm, which was accepted with a smile.

“By gracious!” exclaimed Bob Malvern, as, the
trio with the baby disappeared in the gloom. “ Deck
Rollins has met his fate! He’s all broke up on that

'rl-fl
g1“ Do you blame the boy for fallin’ in love with
an angel?” asked Kit Bandy. “ Darn my old scalp!
she‘s the prettiest gal I ever see'd. I do believe I'm
all broke up on her myself, and as to that baby,
blessed if I don’t feel lonesome. If Ijist was ell/'8
that Sabina Bandy would never drap down on me.
I’d show you lads that, old and desolated as i am.
I could make love to a little angel with all the
grace o’ayoung cavalier. Let's see: she said her
name was Zonita Alvandez. She is a Spanish girl.
and do you know that she’s no lebeian? Do you
know that rich old Castilian bood courses her
veins? By the ram’s born 0’ Joshua! what if her
father is—”

Here the old detective broke suddenly off, and

'turning. he began pacing to and fro before the fire,

his eyes cast downward and his brows knitted as if
in deep reflection. . .

And the amateur hunters, looking on in Silence,
wondered what next that eventful night was to bring
forth.

 

CHAPTER KI.
zonrrA’s REQUEST.

Zoxru and Deck Rollins led the way through the
wooded valley followed by Little Buckskin With the
bah .

TlIe girl seemed to put implicit confidence in her
escort, for she talked freely to them: and Deck Rol-
lins listened to every word with close attention and
the utmost credulity. But, in bile Little Buckskin was
willing to admit her beauty, and the music of her
voice, her surroundings were such as led him to
fear that all might not be what it appeared. . .

“ I am truly surprised to find a young lady in this
desolate mountain valley," Rollins admitted, as
they moved along. . . .

“ I presume so, senor,” replied the girl; “ but it is
not by my wish that we are here. I am hvmg a
dreary, dreadful life here.” _ ‘

“ Your father, you say is not a miner?" I

"No, sir,” she again replied, in an evaSive man-
ner.

“Then I cannot imagine what business he could
be engaged in here,” observed Rollins, determined
to Compel a direct answer if possible. .

“He is not an outlaw or robber, senor," the girl
replied: “although I fear he will be mistrusted by
you and your friends of being such; but let me as-
sure you, upon the honor of a lady, that my father
is an onorabe gentleman.” _

" I believe—ay, I know you speak the truth..Miss
Alvandez, and it would afford me and my friends
the greatest pleasure to render you and your father
any assistance or favor you might ask."

“ You are kind—very kind, senor. I must confess
we are in need of friends at this time. for a danger
hangs over us that we sought the solitude of these
mountains to escape: but I should not thrust my
grievances upon strangers."

“ Don’t hesitate, Miss Alvandez. to speak freely,
for I again assure you that it will be a pleasure for
us to be of service to you. I know something is go-
ing wrong—we all thought so when we found that
child.”

 

the had learned of the maiden concerning herself
an the child.

“ Thar's somethin’ wrong thar, boys,” averred
Old Kit. "That gal’s no sinner, and jist as soon as
it‘s daylight we’ll amble up thar and shadow that
cabin. \Ve might strike sumo-thin” as would give us
a clew to Colonel Darre’s whereabouts. Now, let’s
tum in, all 0’ us, and take a snooze, and be ready
when the time comes to march.”

So saying. all but the one left on guard rolled
themselves in their blankets and laid down to sleep.
1 Aténtervais of every two hours the guard was re-

ieve .

Daylight came, and with the first streaks of dawn
the party broke camp and started up the river.

They had proceeded but a short distance when
they were startled by a sound in a clump of bushes
on their right, and upon investigation they saw a
horse, bridled and saddled. standing hitched to a
tree, while upon the ground lay a man wrapped in a
blanket either asleep or dead.

“ By the great thundersl” exclaimed Little Buck-
skin, in a whisper, “ that is my horse, boys! ”

"Oh, Lord!” gi'oaned Old Kit, aloud. “I wonder
what has happened them two gals, Augusta and
Jeannette?”

The sleeper awoke at the sound of Old Kit’s voice,
and sprung to his feet. He was a young man dressed
in a ranchero’s suit.

Little Buckskin recognized him at a glance as
Tom Krome, one of the two cowboys who had come
up from Zane’s ranch in search of Augusta and
Jeannette.

“ Hello, Tom 1" the young hunter exclaimed,
“what in the Lord’s name is wrong now? Are the
girls safe?”

“ Yes, Buckskin,” answered Krome; “ we got back
safe to the ranch with them.”

“ Any word yet from Colonel Dari-e?” asked Bob
Malvern.

“ Yes. He is evidently in the power 0‘ Utah Bill.”

“ What ev;dcnce have you of this fact?”

“ This letter.” and Krome took a folded note from
his pocket. “ When we got back to the ranch it was
‘waiting Miss Augusta‘s ’rival. It war sealed and
directed to her. It had been handed to Joe Falls,
one 0’ our boys, the day the colonel disappeared. by
a man who came up the river, and who went back
in. that direction. though I think he went that way
for a blind. Here's the letter; you can read it.”

He handed the paper to Bob Malvern, who, unfold-
ing it, read aloud the following:

"Miss AUGUSTA Danna:—

“ Your father is in my care. where he will remain
until I hear from you in person or through your
agent. I am informed by one who knows that your
father is rich. and that you have thousands in your
own name. I am poor and in need, and I know you
will pay me well for the restoration of your father
to you. I must have five thousand dollars. I will give
you ample time to effect his ransom, knowing your

ome and money are in Kentucky. But that I may
know what you intend to do, I must have an inter-
view with your agent forthwith. I will ap )oint as
place of meeting, the Miners’ Mecca, at isky-
Famine, for day after to-morrow, at any time be-
tween sunrise and sunset. I, or my agent, will be
there. Instruct your agent to wear a blue ribbon or
string attached to his hat—band, that he may be re-
cognized by me or my agent, who will be disguised.
He must come alone, or he will not be recognized.
Any attempt to thwart me, or to find Colonel Darre,
I warn you, will be futile. I have not undertaken
this without making my position secure. I defy all
the detectives and soldiers in the land. Remember
that any attempt to wrest my secret from my agent
by bribery or by torture will be followed by the
death of Colonel Darre. The name I here subscribe
is sufficient guarantee that what is said herein will
be fulfilled. UTAH BILL. "

“Hill-fluginsi" burst from Randy’s lips; “that's

the game Utah William is up to !"

  

  

“Taking his cue from Italian b ' ”

Bob Malvem. audits, suggested

“He’s a. sly, slick coon, boys,” observed the old
detective. .

f‘ And Will probably get his price before Darre does
his liberty."

.“ Wat, negotiations ’11 have to be opened with the
villain,” replied Bandy, “and mebby we can entrap
him; but by the born 0’ Joshua! we’ll have to keep
ourselves under cover.”

“I am fully satisfied now that Paul Dumont has
had something to do with Darre’s capture, ” rc-
marked Malvern, “though I cannot see what object
he has in it."

_“ I’m satisfied he’s a friend 0’ Utah’s,” was Kit’s
view.

f‘ Suppose I go up to Whisky-Famine to represent
Miss Darre,” suggested Little Buckskin, ever anxious
for excuenient.

“ It was Miss Darre’s wish that you should act for

her, in case I found you,” Tom Krome announced.
_ "Then that settles it,” said Old Kit; “ but I reckon
if I’d been a young and skittish youth I‘d got the
Job. Age goes against a feller with the gals, but
when it comes to solid work— But say, boy, you’ve
got to be rehgiously keerful when you go up thar to
that deVil’s nest, You want to keep your lip but-
toned, and not git too numerous in tryin' to find out
things. You want to make ‘ me, or my agent ’ think
you don’t know any more'n the Constitution allows,
and that you’re an innocent, unsuspectin’ child who
knoweth nothin’ but how to set a beaver-trap or find
your pocket in the dark.”

“ A I right, Kitsie, I’ll do the best I can. I’d better
take the letter along too,” thought Buckskin, “as
additional credentials.”

“Here’sapiece of blue ribbon furnished me by
Augusra,” and Krome produced a tiny bit of silk.

Buckskin at once prepared to depart for Whisk '-
Famine, and having arranged as to where he should
meet his friends after the interview at the Miners’
Mecca, be mounted his noble horse and rode away
toward, the camp of the gold-hunters.

(To be continued—commenced in N0. 67.)

 

 

MY SWEETHEART.

BY JOHN H. WHITSON.

 

With a midnight splendor
Her dark hair flows,
As in visions tender
She comes and goes;
Her words disclose
That no love is surer—
Her soul is purer
Than mountain snows.

In my languid dreaming
She thus draws nigh,
With the love-light beaming
From brow and eye—
No summer sky
Than her face is brighter;—
Her heart is lighter
Than wings that fly.

“ Oh, my love, I love you!"
I, whispering, woo.
“ The stars above you
Are not more true.
May haunting rue
Bloom for us never;
May heaven ever
Seem near to view.”

Kate Scott,

Decoy Detective;

OR,
Joe Phenix’s Still Hunt.

 

 

The

A Romance of the Upper Crust and Lower Grant
of New York Life.

BY ALBERT IV. AIKEN,

AUTHOR OF “ THE BAT or THE BATTERY,” “ THE
DEMON DETECTIVE,” “ RED RICHARD,” ETC.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE MASTER OF BLITHEWOOD.

NEW YORK bay is truly renowned; well-in-
formed travelers have often remarked that it
was very little, if any, inferior in natural beau-
ty to the far-famed bay of Naples.

The shores are well-wooded; charming villas,
some of them perfect palaces, are scattered here
and there.

The Long Island shore is particularly attrac-
tive and there is hardlya drive in America
more beautiful than the shore road which, at
an elevation of a hundred feet above the water,
leads from Bay Ridge to Fort Hamilton, and
then continues, dropping to a lower level, to
Bath and New York’s famous summer breath-
ing spot, Coney Island.

On this delightful bay view road, about half-
way between Bay Ridge and Fort Hamilton,
stands a massive mansion built in the Gothic
style with a bewildering amount of wings and
gabled roofs.

There are some ten acres of pleasure-grounds
attached to the house, which stands quite a
ways back from the road with an elaborate
lawn in front, fringed by stately forest trees in
the English park style.

The public road cuts through the grounds of
the house, and that portion of the estate which
lies on the bay side of the drive, slopes from
the road to the water's edge, along which is
built a massive stone wall.

Resting on the wall is an extensive boat-
house, with room below for half-a-dozeu plea-
sure-craft, while the upper part is utilized as
a billiard and card room.

A balcony two stories high, running com-
pletely around the house afforded a pleasant
pronienane when the weather was suitable for
such enjoyment.

At anchor in the bay, a short distance from
the boat—house, were two elegant yachts.

One. sloop-rigged, of about twenty-five tons,
the other a steam launch of smaller dimensions.

Take it all in all, Blithewood Ball, for so this
country place was named, compared favorably
with anything of the kind in the neighborhood
of the great Metropolis of the New \Vorld.

There were many larger places, estates which
cost a deal more money, but few of them were
as perfect in all their details as this bijou coun-
try place.

The owner of the property was a well-known
man in the lower portion of great Gotham, the
territory tributary to Wall street and the stock
exchange.

He was a young man, not over thirty-five, a
tall, handsome, olivefaced, dark-6y ed. dark—
haired fellow, with a prepossessing face, a.
musical voice, and an uncommonly gentleman-
ly appearanCe.

He was called Bernard Andrews and was,
comparatively speaking, a newcomer in the
great Metropolis.

New York had only known him for some five
years.

He had made his appearance in the guise of
a financial agent of a rather obscure railroad
in Texas, which amounted to very little actual-
ly, although to read its prospectus one would
have been apt to imagine it was destined to be
the trunk road of the world.

The position secured him admission into a
certain circle of operators who were supposed
to be about the sharpest men in Wall street,
and many wiseacres shook their heads and,
prophet-like, predicted that the young man
would soon be sheai ed of all his golden fleece by
these keen wolves.

But Andrews, although new to the lairs of
the stcckexchange, soon proved to all who
had the curiOSity to watch his career that he
had long ago cut his wisdom-teeth, and soon be
convinced the wise men of Gotham that he was
fully fit to wrestle with the best; of them in a
trial of wits, although where he managed to
procure the money to back his enterprises was
a mystery, until it leaked out that he was a
scion of one of the old cattle-kings who by the
wondrous rise of land and live-stock in Texas
had suddenly become enormously rich.

It was little wonder that Andrews succeeded
with a million or two of dollars at his back for
a “ starter,” to use the slang of the street.

And now after a brief five years the young
man was recognized as one of the leading men
in Wall street.

Andrews was a bachelor, mui' : to the wonder
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such a deuced handsome fellow, with such _a
taking way with him, and so much money, did
not take a better-half unto himsdf. _

It was not for want of an opportunity, for
Dame Rumor, with her hundred tongues, de-
clared there were at least a dozen o! the dainty
belles of the “ upper crust.” who would be only
too glad to be wooed and won by this gay
Southern entleman. .

But althgough Blithewood Hall did not possess
a mistress yet the establishment was kept up in
first-class st Is.

There wags. housekeeper and a butler, both
won excellent managers, assisted by a full corps
of well trained Servants, and as there was plenty
of money to grease the wheels of domestic econ-
omy, every thing went like clockwork.

'The young man was of a hospitable nature,
and never seemed so happy as when entertain-
incr a house full of company, and so it happened
thit Blithewood was rarely Without Visnors.

In right royal style too the master of the do-
main assured his guests that his house was Lib
erty Hall. and they must make themsclves per-
fectly at home. .

There wasn’t any regular hour for either
breakfast or luncheon. _

A repast was ready whenevera guest felt in-
clined to eat, either in the morning or at noon
but a regular ceremonious dinner was served
daily at five in the afternoon, and this was the
only meal when it was understood that the mas-
ter of the house expected to meet all his guests
at the table. . _

. Another thing too about this hospitable man-
sion. The host expressly declared to each guest
upon arrival that it must not be expected that
he personally would provide amusement.

There were books in the library for those
studiously inclined, a billiard—room and a bowl-
ing—alley, horses and carriages 1n the stables,
and boats on the water-of half a dozen differ-
ent patterns.

Any one who could not find means to pleas-
antly while away an idle hour With all these
methods of enjoyment at command must indeed
be hard to please.

At the time that we introduce the reader to
this pleasant mansion and its inmates there
were quite a number of guests enjoying the
hospitality of its princely owner.

First the two dudes whOSe acquaintance the
reader made at the beginning of our tale.

Charles Van Tromp and Alexander Clinton.

This pair of insepai‘ables, as they were com-
monly termed by their acquaintances, from the
fact that they were rarely seen apart, were An-
drews’s most particular friends, although they
were as different in every respect from the mas—
ter of Blithewood as daylight is from darkness.

Andrews was an elegant, polished fellow, but
with nothing of the exquisite about him, in
fact, a thorough-going man of the world, full
of business and as sharp as a steel-trap, for all
his polish and refinement.

Still he was a jovial good fellow, fond of all
sorts of fun, and from the moment he made the
acquaintance of the two young men, seemed to
take a fancy to them, and it was notlong before
the two came to the conclusion that Bernard
Andrews was about the nicest fellow that they
ever had the good fortune to encounter.

Besides the young men four more guests en-
jo ed the ho itality of Blithewood.

r. and rs. Dominick Grim iskin, Miss
Sidonia Grimgriskin and young r. Alcibiades
Grimgriskin.

N ew—comers to the great metropolis were
these Grimgriskins, and in some respects they
Were a rather peculiar family, worthy to be
described at length, and we cannot accomplish
that feat better than to relate a conversation that
took place between Bernard Andrews and the
two dudes on the ample veranda of the house
waiting for the announcement that dinner was
served.

The young men had driven down with An-
drews, leaving the city at the close of business
in Wall street, about three in the afternoon.

Andrews had a stylish way of doing business.
No common, vulgar horse-cars for him.

He was driven from his country-seat to his
office every morning in his own carriage, a very
neat affair, with a coachman in a dark livery,
and drawn by a pair of high-stepping Kentucky
bay horses, worth a cool thousand dollars each
of anybody’s money, and at the close of busi-
ness the same vehicle conveyed him home.

Some of the old heads nodded their pows
graVely at this display, and murmured of the
pride which goes before a fall.

But these men were “ croakers,” who were al-
ways predicting disaster.

Others thought it was a “ deuced good idea.”

“ Fine device to attract ‘lambs,’ and inspire
confidence,” they remarked.

Andrews had gone regularly into the stock-
broker business, and although not a member of
the exchange, had managed to secure quite a
lucrative business.

The Grimgriskins had come by way of the Bay
Ridge boat, and the host, upon their arrival,
received them in person.

After seeing them to their apartments he had
returned to join the young men on the veranda.

“ By J ova, old fellow, that’s a deuced fine girl,
don’t yer know!” Van Tromp had exclaimed
upon Andrews’s return.

“ Deuced fine, by George!” drawled the other
dude. “ But the old fellow looks like a monkey
from Central Park. Where did you pick ’em
u 3

“ That neccssitates a tale, so I’ll fire away at
once,” replied Andrews, seating himself.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
run GBIMGRISKINS.

“ IN the first place,” began Andrews, “ per-
haps it is as well to introduce that elderly,
dried-up gentleman, whom you irreverently
compare to a monkey, with the remark that he
is worth about five millions of dollars.”

“ What?” exclaimed the pair of dudes in ut-
ter amazement.

Both of the gilded youths had a fair claim to
rank with the millionaires of Gotham, but even
in great New York five-million men are not
common.

“ His name is Grimgriskin, Dominick Grim-
griskin, and he hails from Bradford, Pennsyl-
vania.” ‘

“Yes, yes, we were up there once, wasn’t
We, Alex,” Van Tromp remarked. “ A friend
of ours thought he had a good thing in an oil
Well up there, and wanted us to take a fiyer
with him, so we went up and examined the
property, don’t you know, but the place was al-
together too nasty, perfectly beastly, you know,
everything smelt of the horrid oil, and it really
made us quite ill, so we got away as soon as
possible.”

"' W'ell, Grimgriskin can thank that bad-
smelling oil for every dollar that he has,” An—
drews remarked. “Ten years ago he was
keeping a little country store in what is now the
city of Bradford; then the place didn’t amount
to ainything, the oil discovery not having been
ma e.

“In the course of his trade a neighboring
farmer got into his debt. The man OWned
about a couple of hundred acres of the poorest
and meanest land that ever a poor devil under-
took to make a living out of, one of those
miserable farms that like the ancient monster
slowly squeezes the life out of anybody who is
punfortunate enough to have anything to do with
_”A_t last, unable to extricate himself from
his difficulties, the farmer, for a paltry sum,
three or four hundred dollars, I believe, just
about enough to take himself and family to the
cheap lands of the far West, made over the
farm to Grimgriskin, who reluctantly took it
on _a sort of speculation, expecting to be able to
strike some greenhorn with it, and so get his
own money out of it, with a few extra dollars
for his trouble and risk.

“On that barren farm great oil discoveries
were made, and one morning the old man
awoke to find himself rich.

“ His head was not turned by his sudden pros~
perity either, but he remained the same care-
ful skinflint as in the days of yore when he
traded groceries for eggs, watered his sugar and

  

bought potatoes with the largest half—bushel
mea~ure that was ever seen. _ _ .

“ As fast as the money came in he invested it
in real estate, and having the luck to come in
on the ground floor, every dollar be invested
returned him from a hundred to a thousand. .

“ He is now one of the great moguls of the 01!
region, for he has been wise enough neVer to
dabble in anything but Oil, which he knows all
about, and real estatenin hisj own locality, in
which he is or nail we ste .

“ He is, toil), one of thgolargest stookholders
in the biggest oil concern in the country, a
monopoly which is to other monopolies as an
elephant is to a rat.”

‘ It’s deuced funny that a mere nobody
should be so uncommonly lucky,” remarked
Van Tromp, with all the contempt that the
scions of the old New York families feel for
thesv creatures of a day. _

" You have hit him exactly, be is a nobody,”
replied Andrews. “ A little, mean, grasping
fellow with a soul no bigger than that of a flea,
and for all his enormous wealth .he counts his
pennies as carefully as when his l_ivmg depend-
ed upon his getting the odd cent in every trans-
action. . _ ,

“I‘ve done considerable busmess for him in
the last year, and I think the old fellow has ta-
ken a fancy to me; at any rate he says I m the
squarest business man he has ever had any
dealings with and that I shall have all his bus1-
ness in future.” '

“ But how about the rest of the family, par-
ticularly that lovely girl?” Clinton asked.
“She’s the old man’s daughter, I suppose, al-
though I can’t say that I detect any resem-
blance.”

“ Yes, she’s his daughter, and a perfectly
splendid girl, as different from the old folks as
can well be imagined, for the old woman, Mrs.
Grimgriskin, is as odd in her way as the old

man is in his. _

“Her name is Sally, a fact of which she 18
utterly ashamed, for sne has the hi best and
most ambitious kind of notions, and t e joke of
the thing is that she always had them, even
when she was pinching along as the Wife of a
country store-keeper. .

“ She always believed she was destined for
great things, and when the windfall came, like
many another good wife she cried, triumphant-
ly, ‘I told you so!’ . .

“But with all her high ideas she is just as
mean and stingy as the old man.

“ As an evidence of the kind of woman she
is, the names she bestowed upon her children
can be cited. . _

“ The girl, who is the oldest, is called Sidonia,
while the young man struggles under the weight
of Alcibiades.”

“ A mean-looking customer he is, too,” Van
Tromp remarked.

“ You are quite right about that, and be is
just as mean and contemptible as he looks,”
Andrews observed. “He is a fellow utterly
without principle; he would steal in a minute,
I verily belieVe. if the booty was large enough,
and he wasn’t afraid of being caught, for he is
as cowardly as a rabbit. There isn’t really any
more manhood about him than a five~year~old
boy. Not the slightest bit of backbone. He’s
like an eel; when you want to put your hand
on him, you’ll find he isn’t there.”

“ A delightful family to encounter!” Van
Tromp exclaimed, with a grimaco. “ Why on
earth did you invite us here to meet such
rabble?”

“ Good heavens! do you suppose I wanted to
shoulder the entire burden of entertaining
them i” Andrews cried, in comic dismay.
“Aren’t you two my most particular friends?
Haven’t you often protested your willingness
to do anything to oblige me, and how can you
render me a greater service than to help me
when invaded by this ruthless horde, who have
descended upon me as the old‘time barbarians
flocked to Rome?

“ Besides, you’ll have some fun; all of the
three are odd characters, and you’ll really on-
joy their peculiarities after you get used to
them.

“ One caution, though; don’t lend Alcibiades
any money, because the chances are about a
hundred to one that you will never see it again
if you do. ‘

‘ “ The young cub is of age and is in receipt of
a regular allowance from his father, which is
paid at stated periods, and as he makes a
point of honor to spend the money on the day
he gets it, the rest of the time he sponges upon
cred ulous acquaintances.”

“The old gentleman will not foot the bills,
then?” remarked Van Tromp.

“Oh, no: there isn’t the slightest use of his
doing it. He’s tried it twenty times and found
that it didn’t do the least good. The more he
paid, the more there was to pay. ,It is a sort
of disease with the young man; he does not
seem to be able'to help it; he hasn’t any back-
bone. as I told you.

“ His intent is good enou h; he’ll borrow fifty
from you with the firm i ea of repaying the
loan the moment he gets hold of his money,
but when that time arrives, he finds there is
something he wants, so he lets your fifty go
till the next time, and when that comes it is
just the same.” .

“Nice sort of a fellow 1” Van Tromp ex-
claimed.

“ Oh, awfully nice,” remarked Clinton.

“ He’s an inveterate gambler, too,” continued
Andrews, “and is never so happy as when he
has the cards in his hands, but he is about the
worst player at any game you can mention
that I ever met, and he generally has frightful
bad luck, too; but it doesn’t matter much
though; eVen if the cards run in his favor, he
payer, knows enough to play them to advan-

age.

“He’d be a deuced good fellow to gamble
with—a man might make a good thing of it,”
Van Tromp suggested.

“ Yes, if he had any money to back his game,
but he is seldom in funds and there Would be
neither fun nor profit in winning his worthless
I. O. U. ’s.”

“ Of course the old man wouldn’t pony up,”
said Clinton.

“ Not a red; he will not even pay Alcibades’s
legitimate dents, such as tailor s, hatter’s and
boot-maker’s bills. If the creditors come to
him, he tells them sharply that his son is of
age and he is not responsible for his debts, and
that. if anybody is fool enough to trust him, he
can’t help it.”

“ Cold consolation; but I should think the
creditors would make it warm for the young
rascal.” Clinton observed.

“What good would it do?” Andrews asked.
“The old man has plenty of money to waste
on lawyers if not on his son, and neither the
mother nor daughter will i uietly submit to the
scapegrace being left in jail.”

“ Oh, they have a better opinion of him than
the old man, eh?" questioned Van Tromp.

“Yes; he is his mother’s idol; his faults she
thinks are only venial ones, common to all
young men, and that with time he will outgrow
them,” Andrews replied. “ And even Sidonia,
who is a girl without the least bit of nonsense
about her, looks with a lenient eye upon his
follies, and really believes there is a deal of
latent good in the unlicked cub. ”

“ Miss Sidonia, then, is the jewel of the fam-
ily.” Van Tromp remarked.

"‘ You are right there; she is a jewel beyond
price. Nature does some odd things sometimes,
and how it happened that such asweettem-
pered, honest, thoroughly good girl should come
of such a breed is a mystery.”

“Hallo! hallo!" exclaimed Clinton; “by
Jove! deah boy, you speak as if you felt a er~
sonal interest in the lady, don’t you know?’

“ You have hit the mark exactly,” Andrews
replied. “Miss Sidonia has no more devoted
admirer than your humble servant.”

At this point dinner was announced.

CHAPTER XIX.
ALCIBIADES PROPOSES A LITTLE GAME.
DINNER at Blithewood was an extremely
elaborate affair; when rallied by his friends
upon his rather extravagant bill of fare, An-

 

 

drews was wont to remark, quietly, that it was

 

  

all the fault of his cook. and that if a man was
idiot enough to engage a French “ chef,” he
must expect to be ruined by the efforts of the
" artist " to maintain his reputation.

But for all that, Andrews was proud of the
name he had 1 ained for givin as good a dinner
as could be had within a bun red miles of New
York. and that is saying a good deal, when it is
considered that the modern Babylon has of late
years become the chosen home of the great mil-
lionaires of America, and that almost every one
of these money-kings pride themselves upon the
style in which they live, no matter how poor or
lowly their origin.

The enemies of the young man, for Andrews
had plenty, as every man must expect who
climbs high above the shoulders of his competi~
tors in the great battle of life—sneeringly re-

'marked that there was a great deal of policy in

the manner in which the daring speculator car-
ried sail. ,

A good dinner has sometimes a wonderful in-
fluence upon a man, and Andrews’s detractors
asserted that some of the best speculations in
which he had been engaged had their origin in
an after-dinner siesta, when his pigeons—An-
drews was compared to a hawk sometimes——
properly mellowed by the influence of a good
dinner, washed down by generous wine. which
at the young man’s table flowed as freely as so
much water. were ready to take a roseato view
of almost anything.

AndreWs exerted himself to the utmost to
make the affair a success, for as his guest had
not had time to become familiar, there was the
natural awkward feeling common to new ac-
quaintanceship.

By the time the banquet was ended, for the
meal was furnished in‘such style that it really
deserved to be so designated, all of the guests
had got on excellent terms with each orher.

The two dudes were thorough gentlemen, in
spite of their idiotic ways, and no fools other-
wise, and before the dinner was over they dis-
covered that the account Andrews had giVen of
the Grimgriskin family was correct in every
particular.

The old man was a miserly old hunks, who
thought himself to be one of the wisest and
smartest men in Christendom, and was by no
means bashful in letting people know his opin-
ion of himself.

The madam, ignorant and pompous, made
herself ridiculous by the airs she displayed.

Alcibiades was a. lout of the first water, a
mean-looking rascal, although dressed like a.
lord, who ate like a hog, and drank twice as
much wine as was good for him; in fact, if it
had not been for a warning administered openly
by the pompous mother, without apparently
any thought of how ill-bred such a thing was,
the young man would have become so drunk as
to be incapable of rising “from the table.

But the daughter—ah! she was a jeWel of a
girl, a lady in every respect, who seemed to be
mortally ashamed of the coarse behavior of her
relatives.

Andrews, in his description, had only done
her simple justice, so both of the young men
decided.

Really, neither of the two thought that due
weight had been given to her many charms.

She was ablonde, about the medium hight,
with true golden hair, the loveliest dark~blue
eyes that were ever seen in a mortars head,
features as regular as though formed bya sculp-
tor’s cunning hand, and a complexion so perfect
that it needed not the aids to beauty in the
shape of cosmetics, red and white, so common
to t e toiletvtable of the beauty of to—day.

Her voice, too, was perfect music, wonderful
contrast to the squeaky tones of the old man,
the harsh voice of the mamma, who invariably
spoke in a high key as though she was yelling
at the hired man down at the barn a hundred
yards away, or the base, clownish utteranccs of
the dull-witted Alcibiades. .

Grapes grow not from thistles, yet from the
mean, sordid Grimgriskin race this perfect girl
had sprung.

It seemed like a miracle, yet nature, as if in
sheer sport, is continually doing such work.

After dinner the party adjourned to the par-
lor, where a. couple of hours were spent in con—
versation, then as old Grimgriskin, who had
been asleep in an easy-chair for the better part
of the time, announced that he felt tired and
should retire to bed, the ladies decided to follow
his example.

Alcibiades declared, however—despite his
mother’s somewhat ur ent suggestion that as
hedidn’t look well he gad better go to bed—
that he never slept any all night if he went to
bed early.

So the father, mother and daughter departed,
leaving the son behind.

After they were gone Andrews suggested, as
there was a brilliant moon, and the night was
an extremely balmy one, it would be a good
idea to go down to the boat-house and enjoy a
cigar on the balcony.

Both of the dudes and Master Alcibiades
thought the idea a capital one, and so the four
proceeded to the boat-house.

It was the first time that either of the guests
had visited Blithewood, therefore they all ex-
amined the boat-house with a great deal of
curiosity.

.“ Upon me word, deah boy you have the
most rfectrplace of the k‘nd that I have evor
seen,’ Van romp remarked, after the party
had finished the inspection, lit their cigars and
seated themselves upon the balcony; the glori-
ous view of the moonlit bay with its vast ex-
panse of water, and Staten Island with its
myriad of lights, right before their eyes. the
broad Atlantic ocean to the left and New
York’s great Metropolis on the right, flanked
by Brooklyn and Jersey City.

“ It is really a superb place, don’t you know l”
chimed in the other dude. “It beats all the
show places that I have ever seen, and you’ve
always kept so deuced quiet about it, too—in-
vited us down to your ‘little box,’ just as if
you had some little six—by-nine shanty, not big
enough inside to swing a good-sized cat.”

“It’s a Very tidy little ranch,” observed Al~
cibiades, in his rude, rough way, affecting the
free and breezy manner popularly supposed to
be common to the lar e-limbed, big-hearted
sons of the boundless est, “ but you just
ought to see the old man’s shebang at Tarport,
that's just outside of Bradford, you know.
Well. I don’t want to boast, but if that don’t
knock the socks off of anything that you can
show”round these diggings I don’t want a red
cent.

The dudes elevated their eyebrows slightly as
they listened to this boast. but they were too
polite to express the doubt they felt in regard
to the matter, for they were certain the speaker
was a colossal liar.

“ You never saw the old man’s place at Tar-
port, I reckon, Andrews,” the oung man con—
tinued, addressing the host in t e most familiar
manner.

“No, I don’t think I ever had the pleasure,”
Andrews replied, “but from the well~known
taste of your father I’ve no doubt his mansion
and grounds are something out of the com-
mon. ’

I'll‘he New Yorkers looked significantly at each
ot er.

Although there wasn’t anything in the speak-
er’s voice or manner to betray it, yet they un-
derstood he was “ chafling ” the boaster.

But Alcibiades was not keen~witted enough
:0 perceive this, but took the speech in good

aith.

“ Oh, the old man knows a thing or two!” the
young man exclaimed. “ If he didn’t, I reckon
he would be scratching a poor man’s head about
this time, instead of being worth twentyfive
or thirty millions of dollars.”

“Not much danger of his ever going to the
poor- house, eh?” Van Tromp remarked.

“ Not much! you can bet your bottom dollar
on that. And besides dad’s pile, the old woman
is well-fixed too. I reckon she could scare up a
million or two if she were put to her trumps.

“ You see, her dad left her a farm which
turned out to be right in the heart of the oil re-
gion, and she was smart enough to hold on to
it.
“ And my sister too is worth a couple of mil-

 

 

lion. She was a great pet of my father’s only
brother. His name was Sidney, and if sis had
been a boy she would have been named after
him; as it was, marm came as near to it as she
could.

“ Well, when uncle kicked the bucket he left
sis all he had. It wasn't counted to be any great
shakes at the time, about fifty acres of i hty
mean land, but it is right in the heart of. rad-
ford now, and Siddie rakes in a big income
from it. .

“ I’m the only one of the gang that isn’t well-
heeled. Just think, gents, all the old man ll
willing to allow me is a miserable four thousand
dollars a year, and what is that to a cove With
my expensivo habits; but the old bloke will peg
out one of these days and then I’ll have my
whack without any one to say me nay,” de-
clared the young reprobate, in the coarsest
manner.

“ I’ve no doubt you'll make the money fly,”
Andrews remarked.

“Oh,-you can just bet I will! I’ll show the
boys a. thing or two in the way of putting 911
style. But I say, Andrews, you’ve got a nice
quiet place here for a little game,”_ and the
speaker glanced into the cosey room Within.

“ What do you say to flipping the pasteboards
for an hour or two just to pass away time?” .

" Well, I seldom play; cards are not much in
my way,” the host replied. . .

“Oho! you’re afraid that I Will skin you, I
reckon!" Alcibiades exclaimed, with aloud and
bantering laugh. “And you’re jolly well right
about that too, for I’m a boss when it comes to
poker. I’ll bet you fifty you don’t dare to play 1”

(To be continued—commenced in No. 65.)

 

 

son_i_i_i_JAY.

BY AL. W. CROWELL.

 

Some day when the roses grow
O‘er my head in summer splendor;
Some day when the breezes blow
Over me in voicing tender—
When the bobolink shall lend her
Rarest tunes to soothe me sleeping,
Sleeping quietly below ;—
hen the nightingale shall send her
Plaintive notes across to me :—
When mine eyes are done with weeping,—
When my heart is done with woe.
If you think of me, there sleeping,
With the warm earth o’er me heaping,
All your memories upleaping
Will be tender ones, I know,
With'me, lying there below
In the night’s dim mystery.

You will think of me some day,
, And I know, think kindly of me,
Lying in the dark alway
With the earth and sky above me—
You who could not learn to love me.
Oh, that you may not forget me
For a little time, I pray!
Scarce I hope you will re ret me
en I cross the Bor er Sea «-
Think but that I loved you blindly
Then your tho’ts will', sure, be kindly
Ones of me, beneath the heather,
. Careless of the wind and weather,
Of December or of Ma ,—
Careless of the t me, or whether
Dark or sunny be the day,
While I lie beneath the heather
Dreaming, lost my love, of thee!

The Pink oinlhe Pacific;

The Adventures of a. Stowaway.

 

 

BY OLIVER OPTIC.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
AN ATTEMPT TO AVERT THE RUIN.

No doubt Lanigan was glad to get back to
Manila after his absence of a week; but he was
not at all satisfied with himself or his captors.
He walked on the bank of the Pasig t0ward the
city. He was on the look-out for the Mindora,
or any other Spanish man—of-war that might
happen to be in port. The Belle of the Bay at-
tracted his attention, for he saw that she car-
ried great guns, and she looked trim enough to
be a naval vessel.

As soon as he came abreast of the vessel, he
paused to make a more careful survey of her.
The crew appeared to be taking in provisions
and stores. Calling a. boat, he went on board
of the brig. Seated in a. deck—chair, he saw a

entleman reading a pile of letters. He did not

ook like a naval officer.

“ Is this a man-of-war, sir?” asked Lanigan.

“No, sir; it is a private yacht,” replied Mr.
Dunwood, for it was be, without raising his
eyes from the letter he was reading.

“Bless my soul 1” exclaimed Lanigan, as he
recognized the tones of the voice. “ This must
be Mr. Dunwood.”

b ‘ That is my name,” replied the owner of the

rig.
“ I was told you were in Manila; but I did not
believe it,” added the landlord.

“ I am not aware that I have the pleasure of
your acquaintance,” said Mr. Dunwood, coldly,
as he lanced at the visitor.

“I are say you have forgotten me, for it is
going on fifteen years since we met; and that
was in Rugby England.”

The owner did not like to have the name of
that place even mentioned in his presence. It
was an unpleasant memory to him, for if the
visitor knew anything about his affairs in that
place, he could have come for no other purpose
than to get money out of him. /

“ I think I never saw you before,” continued
the owner, at a venture.

.“Oh, but you have!” said the landlord, de-
c1dedl, . “ { name is Philip Lanigan; and
my wife had t e care of the child before 1 mar-
ried her. I think you know me now.”

Mr, Dunwood expressed his surprise at meet-
ing him; and then asked if he had any business
with him.

“ No particular business,” replied Lanigan, as
coldly as the owner.

“ I don’t care to have that business talked
about here,” added the owner, in a low tone, as
he glanced at the companionway to assure
hirgself that none of his family heard what was
sai .

“ I don’t care to talk about it any more than
you do: but I have some news that will astonish
you; and I reckon you won’t be over glad to
hear it," replied Lanigan, with assumed indif-
ference.

“ What news is that?” asked Mr. Dunwood,

interested in spite of himself.
' “ Well, sir, I’ll tell it to you all in a bunch.
The child my wife and I helped you to et rid
of is alive and well, and along with his ether;
and they are taking my wife over to New York
to use as a witness,” said I .anigan.

The owner of the Belle of the Bay turned very
pale, and the landlord could see that he trem-
bled in every fiber of his frame.

“ You haye come to get more money out of
me!” exclaimed the terrified Mr. Dunwood.
“ How much do you want now?”

“ I don’t object to more money, though I did
not come on board for the purpose of getting
any,” replied Lanigan, wit a coarse lau h.
“ It was a mighty small price we got for so 3
a job; and I believe it has come to grief because
it was so badly paid for.”

“ What has come to grief i” asked the owner.
“ What is your business with me?”

“ I have no business with you. I was lookin
for a Spanish man-of-war, and I came on board
of this vessel thinking she might be what I was
looking for. I didn’t know you were on board
of her. ’

“ Is your wife in Manila?”

“ She was in Manila till they carried her off,
and me with her; but they let me off. I have
lost}: week’s time, and somebody must pay me
for It,” grewled the landlord, as he thought of
his trials. “ As it comes out of your business I
think I ought to look to you for pavment.” ’

“ Who carried off our wife?” demanded Mr.
Dunwood, impatientIy.

“ The father of the child~Captain Fairfield.”

 

“ Fairfield l” exelaimed the wretched rich
man. “Goo-i Heaven!”

-Mr. Dunwood gasped out his words like one
who has but a moment to live.

“ I told you the whole story in a few words.”

" Where is Fairfield now ‘l”

“ Do you see ihat schooner—yacht, a mile be-
low the point?” asked Lanigan, pointing to the
Annie.

“ I see her.” gasped the owner.

“ Captain Fairfield is on board of her; and so
is his son.”

“ We must not talk about this matter here,”
added Mr. Dunwood, glancing timidly around
him. “ Where can I see you again?”

“I am the landlord of the Imperial Crown,
the best hotel in Manila, and I will see you
there,” replied Lanigan. “ I have a. shore boat
alongside, and if you like you can go with me.”

The owner assented; and as they were going
to the side Tom Dunwood came up from the
cabin. The young gentleman announced his in-
tention of going on shore with his father.

“ I am engaged on particular business with
this gentleman; and if you wish to go on shore
you may ask the captain for a boat, ’ answvred
his father.

“ No; I want to go with you,” added Tom.

“ I don’t wish you to go,” said Mr. Dunwood
with more energy than he was in the habit of
using in speaking to his son.

The owner descended the steps into the boat,
and Tom was about to follow him, when Inni-
gan seized him roughly by the collar and pulled
him back upon the deck. ‘

“ Your papa says you are not to go,” he add-
ed, as he shoved the young man aside.

“ But I will go,” protested Tom, bolting for
the steps. “If you put your hand on me again
I’ll shoot you!”

But Lanigan did not belong to the vessel, and
was not afraid of the boy’s father. He collared
the young reprobate again; and this time he
pitched him into the scuppers as though he had
been a dog. Without waiting for Tom to pick
himself up the landlord hurried down the ac-
commodation-steps, and shoved off the boat.

“ Stop, father!” yelled Tom, from the rail.

“ I shall soon return, my son,” replied the
weak father.

“ If you don’t stop, I’ll leave the vessel l”
screamed the hopeful.

“ Look out for him, Captain Fetterbone,”
called his anxious father.

“ I’ll take care of him,” replied the new cap-
tain of the Belle.

Mr. Fetterbone, late mate of the American
Continent, was so disgusted with his position
on board the ship that he had deserted her as
soon as she made a port, and had immediately
taken passage for Manila. He had boarded the
vessel for the first time in the morning, as he
had a dozen others, looking for a pesition as
mate. He was a navigator, and Mr. Dunwood
had engaged him to fill Bodfield’s place.

The owner was very angry when he returned
from his excursion to the interior of the island
to find that the captain and all the best bands
had deserted the brig. He had no idea where
the; had gone, for those who left the vessel
sai nothing to those who remained on board.
Captain Bodfield had selected his men, and had
sent them on shore after dark so that the
could carry their bags without being notice;
The new captain found anion the crew of the
wrecked vessel all the additional hands he
wanted, including a. cook and stewards. Mr.
Dunwood desired to sail as soon as he could get
the provisions and stores on board, which would
be in the course of an hour or two.

Mr. Dunwood follOch the landlord to the
Im erial Crown. In spite of the prophecy of
its cepcr, its business had gone along as usual.
The head-waiter had run the house to his own
satisfaction; and there was a considerable sum
of money in the desk. Lanigan did not stop to
examine into his alfairs, but look his guest into
a private room, where henarrated all that had
he pened on board of the Annie.

he listener was almost paralyzed with tor-
ror as he realized that the child had been re—
stored to his father.

“ But where did the father find the boy?”
asked Mr. Dunwood, hoping to find some escape
from the fearful conclusion that his fortune
must pass out of his hands into those of the
rightful heir. '

‘ Where did he find him? He didn’t find him!
It seems that you carried the boy to him,” re—
plied the landlord.

“ I carried the boy to him?” repeated the be-
wildered owner.

“They call the boy Pink; and when your son
made the brig too hot for him, he left her; and
then fell in with his father, who was the com~
mander of the forces of the Rajah of Koti, as I
told you before,” answered the landlord.

“My son was unreasonable; he has ruined
himse f and me!” groaned the miserable man,
as he covered his face with his hands, and wept
like a child.

“Well, sir, I am sorry for you: but I only
tell you the truth. I was carried off three days’
sail from here, and only brought back when I
allowrd my wife to go with them to New York,”
said Lanigan. '

“Can nothing he done to avert this ruin?”
asked Mr. Dunwood.

“ That’s more than I know,” replied the land-
lord, shrugging his shoulders. “That depends
upon how fast your brig can sail.”

“ She can sai faster than any other craft on
the ocean,” replied the owner, catching at the
Etraw the hotel keeper seemed to hold out to

im.

“ I dare say she can; but on the whole, I
think I won’t meddle with the matter. I have
lost a whole week’s business on account of this
affair.”

“How much have you lost?” demanded Mr.
Dunwood.

“ A good two hundred pounds.”

“ I will pay it,” added the owner.

The landlord wished he had said five hundred
pounds.

“I don’t think Captain Fairfield could provo
that the child is his,
my wife. She is at Palapa; hurry there as fast
as you can, get her on board the brig before the
schooner can reach her, and you are safe.”

_Mr. Dunwood insisted that Lanigan should go
With him to Palapa; and another two hundred
pounds induced him to do so. In another hour,
the Belle was standing down the bay.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
'mM mmwoon JUMI‘S INTO Tim FIRE,

CAPTAIN BODFIELI) had noticed the activity
on board of the brig, and he was rather curious
to know what she intended to do. She was too
far off to permit him to see what was transpir-
ing on her deck, or to notice the boat in which
Lanigan had boarded her.

During the absence of the captain, the owner
found that his supply of cigars was nearly ex—
hausted; and wit i Pink and four sailors he had
gone ashore in the other quarter-boat to obtain
a fresh sii iply. He had given the Belle of the
Bay a wii e berth, and landed in another part
of the city; for he was not willin even to have
his son seen by John Dunwood, w 0 was wicked
enough to murder him. The captain said he
did not care to sail until the turn of the tide,
the Wind bein very light in the bay, and Cap—
tain Fairfieldi id not hurry back.

Captain Bodfield had been on board over an
hour when he saw that the brig was setting her
topsails. In half an hour more she was stand—
ing down the bay. She made but little head-
way against the tide, and did not approach
Within a mile of the Annie. Another hour
passed and the boat with the owner did not re-
turn. With his glass the captain watched the
movements of the Belle. When she was about
a mile outside of the Annie, she changed her
course. \Vhat little wind there was came from
the south; and when the brig was out of the
river, she stood over to the northwest, ap-
parently for the sole purpose of giVing the
schooner a wide berth, for she took the breeze
abaft the beam only to brace up as soon as she
was clear of the Annie.

Captain Bodfield watched the Belle with in»
tense interest for her movements were a little
suspicious. The course from the river to Lim-

 

 

 

 

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bones Point, was southwest; and the wind was
fair for her to lay that course: but after going
so far to leeward, she had to brace sharp up in
order to make the point. If she were going to
the north after getting out of the bay, she could
have stood several points more to the west
ward.

To the experienced eye of the captain of the
Annie, the movements of the brig indicated two
things: first, that she had gone a full mile to
leeward in order to avoid the Annie; and
second, that the Belle was going to the south—
ward, instead of to the northward, for the cap
tain knew that it was the intention of Mr. Dun-
wood to visit China and Japan before he began
his voyage to the islands of the Pacific. No
sooner had he come to these conclusions than he
called all hands to get the vessel under way.

The fore and mainsails had not been lowered,
and the schooner had been anchored at a short
stay, for it was not intended to remain more
than an hour or two. The captain kept a sharp
lookout. for the absent boat, while he hurried
the men who were walking around the capstan.
When the second mats reported the “ anchor
a.ch 'h," the captain ordered the jib to be hoist—
ed. "he hands saw that the “old man” was
rather earnest in his manner, so they all work
ed with a will, and in a few minutes the yacht
was standin up the bay. Before she reached
the mouth 0 the I’asig, the boat for which he
was looking was seen coming out of the cut-off.
The schooner soon picked up the boat; but in-
stead of hoisting it up to the davits, it was tow
ed astern. The captain then directed the max:
at the wheel to run for the river.

“You are impatient, Captain Bodfield,” said
the owner, as soon as he reached the deck.
“ You said it was not worth while to sail before
the tide changed.”

“ I changed my mind a little; and now I wish
to go on shore for half an hour,” replied the
captain.

“ You seem to be somewhat excited for you,”
added the owner, with a smile. “ Has anything
happened!”

The brig has gone to sea; there she is close-
hauled; and I don’t quite understand why she is
laying up so close to the wind,” replied the cap-
tain, as he pointed to the brig, now nearly two
miles distant. “ Down with the helm, quarter-
master!”

The Annie came up into the wind, and the
boat was ordered up to the accommodation-lad-
der. Captain Bodfield asked to be excused from
further explanations, and hurrying into the
boat, directed the crew to pull for the shore.
When he landed, he directed his steps to the
Imperial Crown. He found the head waiter in
charge of the establishment. He inquired for
the landlord: and insisted upon seeing him, de-
claring that his business was of the most press-
ing nature, since it was to put a considerable
sum of money into the pocket of Mr. McIntosh.

“He has gone away for a week, sir,” replied
the waiter, who appeared to be an Englishman.

“ Where has he gone?" demanded Captain
Bodfield, with a heavy look of disappointment
on his face.

“ I don’t know just where he has gone; but I
sent his valise down to a brig in the river,” ad-
ded the man. "' He only told me he was going
{)ornhis wife; but I have no idea where she may

0.

“ And he will not return for a week?” queried
the captain, who was not half so much disap-
pointed as he looked.

He did not wait for the man’s answer, but
hastened back to the river. Springing into the
boat, he ordered the men to give way with a
will. In a few minutes he was on board of the
Annie.

“ Lay aloft, and loose the gaff topsailsl”

shouted the captain, the instant he reached the
“Stand by your falls there; hoist up

deck.
that boat!”

All hands saw that the captain “ meant busi—
ness,” and thcy workcd us briskly as could he
desircd. Tho boat was hoisted up to the davits;

and as soon as it was clear of the water, the
yacht flllod away, and stood down the river.
Captain Fuirficld had gone below to stow away
the cigars; but he could not help hearing the
commotion on deck.

the helm to the second mate.

“ You seem to be making things lively, cap-
tain,” said the owner.
what you are about, but I don’t.”

“ You must excuse me, Captain Fail-field, for
choosing short words, and using my Own head;
but I have been acting for your interest, and

not my own,” replied Captain Bodfield.

“ I don’t find any fault with what you have
done, or are doing; and I don’t ask you to ex-

plain till you are ready to do so.”

“In a word, the people in the brig are trying
think we shall
find out in the course of the next three days
Whether the Annie is a faster sailer than the
Belle of the Bay. Your case may depend upon
the speed of your vessel.” replied the captain,
as he glanced at the flattened sails of the

to steal a march upon us; and I

schooner.

“ What you say is all an enigma to me,” add-

ed the owner, with a smile.
“ The brig got under way over two hours ago
and her movements excited my suspicions.

gra m me. ”

“I don’t see anything very strange in all

this.” mused the owner.
“ I do, sir.

this vessel?

who was on board of the Annie.

for Hong Kong at the present time.”
“ Where is she bound, then?”
“ For I’alapa without a doubt in my mind.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed Captain Fairfield,
“Dunwood
cannot know that the landlord’s wife is there,

startled at the very suggestion.

waiting for us.”
“ But he does know it. ‘ .
such a. hurry to satisfy myself on this pomt

for I was confident that Lanigan had seen Dun~
I found at the Imperial Crown that he
had left to be absent for a week; and he even
told the head-waiter that he was going some-
If' the brig reaches Palapa
before the schooner nothing can prevent Lani-

wood.

where for his wife.

gun from getting his wife again.”

“It is appalling to think of such a thing,” and You can’t go into that cabin till you are
com-

said the owner, knitting his brow and
pressing his lips. “ But we must make the An

nie do her best; and we have a fair chance to
I know we can eat her out of
the wind all day long, though very likely she
will get the better of us when she has the Wind

beat the brig.

shaft the beam.”

“1 don’t give it up by any means,” added
“Our general course is to
the southeast; and the southwest monsoon 15

Captain Bodfield.

the prevailing wind at this season of the year

It is somewhat modified by the heat of these
large islands; but we shall have it from south

to southwest most of the time.”

“Then the situation is hopeful, to say the

least,” replied Captain Fairfield.

The management of the yacht required the
closest attention; and the owner, who had

sailed her around the world, made some sug
gestions to the captain.

gau e of her.

two miles behind the Belle.

from the spars.
wind came from the southwest.

the Annie was abreast of the Belle; and again

the breeze entirely subsided.
At daylight in the

lie hastcncd up to ascer-
tain its cause; but the captain was so busy that
he. asked no questions until the gaff topsails and
the flying jib were sct, and Bodfield had given

“I suppose you know

In
the first place she went a mile to leeward to
avoid this yacht; in the second, she is going
too far to the southward if her next port is
Hong Kong, according to Mr. Duncan’s pro-

VVhy should Mr. Dunwood avoid
It was evident to me that he knew
Her going to
the southward indicates that she is not bound

lwent on shore in

If the Belle had a
start of five miles the Annie had the weather-
It was soon evident to Captain
Bod old that the brig was not very well han-
dled, for when the schooner was up With Lim-
bones Point, at dark, she was not more than
Shortly after the
breeze entirely died out, and the sails hung idly

. Whipped .
But half an 1mm Kiegfggé‘; again, and looked to see who it was that had 5)

morning the two yachts
were becalmed not a quarter of a mile apart.
Spy glasses were in demand on the docks of
both vessels. Captain Bodfield was curious to
know who was in command of the Bullet for
he kn.,w no one he had left on board of her

lwas competent to sail, much less to navigate
er. '
“Pink, take the glass, and see if you can I
make'ont any one on board of her,” said the
captain.

“ You don’t expect me to make out faces at
that distance, do you ?” replied Pink, as he took
the gla5s and ran up the fore rigging.

Even Pink’s eyes were not sharp enough to
distinguish faces so far off. The calm contin
ued all the forenoon. After dinner a boat put
off from the brig, and every glass on board of
the Annie was directed toward it. It pulled
about the belle for awhile, and then approached
the Annie. Tom DiinWood was in the stern-
sheets; and it was observed that he was mak—
ing energetic gestures to his oarsmcn. As the
boat, after a considerable wait, convinued to
approach the schooner, it was plain enough
that the young gentleman insisted upon Visit-
ing her, doubtless in spite of their orders to the
contrary. When it was hardly a cable’s length
wow the schooner another boat put off from
the brig, and pulled in the same direction. But
Tom, with a pistol in his hand. compelled the
crew of his boat to go alongside the Annie; and
then he leaped on board of her.

 

CHAPTER XXXV.
TOM DUNWOOD CONQUERED.

IF Mr. Dunwood and Linigan knew wha:
lie Annie was. it was plain enough that TOu
mid no suspicion that any of his old acquaint-
vices were on board of her. The sending off
if the second boat indicated that the owner 0‘
he Belle desired to prevent his son from going
'00 near the °"hooner. But they were too late,
for the reckless young gentleman was already
on board of her.

“Now you can pull back to the brig,” said
Tom, turning to his boat’s crew, without wait-
ing to ask whether or not he was a welcome
visitor.
The men were not inclined to obey, for
doubtless they had orders not to go near the
schooner; and this may have been the particu—
lar reason why Tom insisted upon boarding
her. If any one demurred at any time at his
commands, he straightway made a disturbance
about it; and he did on the present occasion.
Taking the pistol in his hand, he threatened
to fire into the boat if the men did not Obey
him instantly. The sailors had a healthy aver-
sion to pistol-balls, and shoving off, they pulled
toward the brig.
“ A breeze!” shouted the second mate, while
all hands were watching the proceedings of Mr.
Tom Dunwood. '
There was a ripple on the water to the south
west, and a moment later the waiting sails of
the Annie were filled with the grateful breeze.
The man at the wheel met her with the helm,
and the vessel darted ahead. Captain Bodfield
directed the sheets to be manned, and the sails
were properly trimmed. A few minutes later
the Belle of the Bay got the Wind; but she was
obliged to wait till she could pick up her boats.
The anxious father could not help seeing what
had transpired alongside the Annie; and he
realized that Tom was in the hands of the one-
my. In a few minutes the Belle was under
way, standing in the same direction as the
schooner.
Tom Dunwood stood at the rail watching the
departure of the boat which had brought him
to the Annie. His present business seemed to
be to enforce his command to his crew; and he
paid no attention to the persons on board of
the vessel in which he had so unceremoniously
taken passage. '
When the Annie was fairly under way,
“ with a bone in her teeth,” * he seemed to be
satisfied that the crew would not attempt to
convoy him back to the brig. He had had his
own way; and just then he was delighted with
the idea that he had properly punished his fa—
ther for disregarding his wishes at Manila.
Tom found that Captain Fetterbone had not
learned the ways of the brig, for he had actual-
ly collared him; and they had a hard battle, in
which the captain got the best of it. He was
disgusted with the new commander, and with
his father, and he had threatened to leave the
brig at the first opportunity. He had carried
out his purpose; but he was soon to learn that
he “had jumped out of the frying pan into the
fire.’
When he was assured that the boat would
not molest him, Tom proceeded to give some
attention to the vessel he had condescended to
honor with his presence: and this was about
the view he took of the subject. It did not
occur to him that the captain of the schooner
could possibly object to the step he had taken.
He walked across the quarter-deck as though
he owned the planks beneath his feet. Captain
Bodfield was too busy attending to the sails to
take any notice of him for a time. All the crew
recognized him at once. and it was evident to
all but Tom himself that an explosion must
soon take place.
The young gentleman looked about the ves-
sel, glancing at the spars and rigging, and then
walked toward the companionway. as though
the cabin was the next point of interest to him.
The captain. having satisfied himself that the
schooner was in good working trim, went aft.
Tom saw him coming, and was not at all pleased
to see him. He scowled as he looked at him,
and seemed by his expression to say that the
captain bad no right to be on board of the same
vessel with him.
“ You here?" growled Tom.
“I’m here, my hearty; and it seems that we
are shipma tes again,” replied Captain Bodfield,
laughing at the look of disgust which the young
gentleman bestowed upon him.
“ Well, I don‘t want anything of you,” added
Tom, turning toward the Companionway, and
beginning to descend the steps.
“ Stop! Where are you going?” demanded
the captain, in an imperative tone, such as
Tom had very seldom heard when he was ad-
dressed. .
“I am going down into the cabin,” replied
Toni.
“Not yet; you had better wait till you are
invited. You are not on board of the Belle of
the Bay now, and the cabin belongs to other
parties,” added the captain, who was possibly
not very much averse to tripping the young
gentleman up.

“It’s none of your business,” snarled Tom.

“ And if you insult me again, I’ll make you
sorry for it.”

“ I am the captain of this vessel, my lad,

 

3

o
3

asked.” .
. “ I think 1 shall go into the cabin,” answered
Tom, decidedly; and as he spoke, he took the
first step down. I .

Captain Bodfield was close besnie him; and
without further words, he took the young en-
tleman by the nape of the neck. and jerked Im
back on the deck, rather too roughly to suit
Tom’s sense of dignity.

“ How dare you put your hand on. me?” de-
manded Tom, angrily, as he picked himself up
from where he had fallen. .

He was boiling with rage; and drawmg the
pistol from his pocket, he threatened to shoot
the captain on the spot.

When Pink saw his old enemy come on the
deck of the Annie, he had gone down into the
cabin, so as not to provoke a quarrel With.hi_m.
He heard the noise on deck, and his curiosuy
prompted him to go up and see what the matter
was. He reached the deck just as Tom had pro-
duced the pistol and pointed it at the captain.
He was behind the young gentleman, and with-
out waiting to ask any questions, he threw him-
self upon the turbulent fellow, wrenched‘the
pistol from his grasp, and pitched him over into
the sup )ars. Almost anybody could have
om, he was so clumsy. He got up

unceremoniously upset him this time. He was
very much astonished to see Pink, who had left
tlie‘brig at Borneo. It was safe to say that he

* Nautical slang for going at fair 5 ced. the white

,‘ would rather have seen any one else. He looked

at him a moment, and then rushed toward him;
but Pink upset him once more.
Captain Bodfield was not at all disposed to
submit to the humor of the young lord, and he
grasped him by the collar as soon as he rose,
aPndkwas about to make another onslaught on
in .
" Let me alone!” yelled Tom, struggling to
esca , . “ I’ll kill you if you don’t let go of
me.
“ I’m not so easily killed, youngster. Now if
you don’t behave yourself, l’ll make a spread
eagle of you on the fore-shrouds,” replied the
captain.
Tom would not behave himself, and fought
the captain like a erverse child till his strength
was exhausted. hen he became quiet, he was
released; and then, dropping on a settee, he
howled and cried like a baby. Not more than
once had he ever fared so badly before; and that
was when Fetterbone undertook to take care of
him at his father’s request.
“You didn’t have any invitation to come on
board of this vessel; and while you are here you
shall behave yourself, which is a thing you
never did before,” observed the captain, dryly.
“ Give me back that pistol, Pink 1” gasped
Tom. who felt that he had lost his power when
he lost the weapon.
“1 will give it to you. Captain Bodfield,” re
olivd Pink, and he handed the pistol to his
friend.
" inat pistol is mine; and if you don’t give it
no me, I’ll jump overboard!” yelled Tom.
“ You can jump overboard as much as you
like. my lad: but that argument is fit only to
use to your father,” answered the captain, as he
put the weapon into his pocket.
The rebel saw that he had no show at all on
board of the Annie, and he said no more. He
waited till he had recovered his breath,and then
walked toward the companionway. He was
about to descend when the captain repeated his
prohibition. Tom was afraid to disobey him
again.
“ Where am I to stay 1” he demanded.
“ Go forward among the men, and if they
will give you a berth among them, I have noth-
ing to say.”
“ Among the men l” gasped the rebel.
a gentleman 1”
“There are plenty of just such gentlemen as
on are: and they all belong to the fo’castle.”
“ I am willing to pay my passage,” Tom ex—
plained.

“ This is not a passenger vessel. Why did
you come on board of her?” asked the captain.
“My father didn’t treat me right, so I told
him I would leave the brig the first chance I
got; and I did,” replied the young gentleman.
“ The new captain kicked me about as though I
wasn’t anybody.”

“He wasn’t far from right.
captain?”

“ Captain Fetterbone.”
Tom condescended to grow] out an explana-
tion of the antecedents of the new captain, and
Pink was very much surprised to learn that the
former mate of the American Continent was
the rson.

“ ’m not going to live among the sailors, if I
have to stay on deck all the time,” said Tom,
when he had finished his explanation.

“You can suit yourself about that,” replied
the captain, indifferently.

“ Pink came out of the cabin.”

“ He belongs in the cabin of this vessel.”

“ Then I don’t want to be there!” exclaimed
Tom. “ I would rather return to the brig.”
“Perhaps you would, but we can’t stop to
send you on board of her.”

Tom was utterly disgusted with the situation,
and he walked forward as though he intended
to look at the quarters of the crew. Then he
discovered that all the men were deserters
from the Belle. He called them “runaways”
to their faces; and when he attempted to enter
the forecastie they drove him away. He went
aft, and, with tears in his eyes, insisted that
the captain should send him back to the brig.
By this time captain Fairfield had come on
deck. He pitied the young man, who had been
spoiled by his father, and gave him a state-
room in the cabin, of which he took possession,
in spite of his hatred of Pink.

The wind continued fresh from the southwest
for the next two days; and as the owner had
predicted, the schooner out-sailed the brig on the
wind, and lost sight of her the second ni ht out
of Manila. Toward night on the third ay she
arrived at Palapa, anchoring two miles from
the port. A beat was sent at once for Mrs.
Lanigan; but the nurse, not 6Xp8( ting the
Annie so soon. had gone with her landlady to a
village ten miles distant.

(To be continued—commenced in No. 58.)

“Iam

Who is the new

 

A Slight Miglliiyerstanding.

BY HENRY HARDING.

 

“ MR. HATTON,” said Major Buster to the re-
cently-engaged reporter, “ go up to Mrs. Gran-
dey’s and interview her. Her famous poodle
died yesterday, and, as she is an authority on
dogs, a few items from her wou‘d interest our
lady readers. You have seen the dog, I sup-
pose, and have heard people talk about him;
but we want the facts from head-quarters. Here
is the lady’s address. With your tact, you are
the right man for such a delicate interview; but
allow me to suggest that you do not use the
word ‘ dog ’ in her presence, and be sure to sym—
pathize with her. A word to the wise, etc, and
now, Mr. Hatton, we expect something unusu-
ally interesting, because of its rarity.”

The reporter, who did not know that Mr.
Grandey had been brought home dead at mid-
night, properly elongated his visage to suit the
occasion, sallied blithely out, and in due time
rung the bell at the house of bereavement, was
admitted to the widowed lady’s presence, and
said:

“ I understand you suffered quite a bereave-
ment yesterday. The editor ot the Daily Ter-
‘l'OI'tthkS that a plain statement of the facts
of the case would interest the ladies of the cit ,
and with your experience and knowledge r f tie
subject, you could doubtless furnish us with
valuable information.”

The lady’s eyes were red and swollen, the ef-
fects of recent weeping, which made the re-
porter think that the poodle must have been
very dear to her. “ I have no objection to tell-
ing you all that I know,” she said, sinking into
a chair.

“ What was the cause of his death?" was the
first question the reporter asked.

“ Heart disease.”

“ How little we know when our dearest (om-
panions will be called away,” sympathized the
reporter, and Mrs. Grandey sighed deeply.
“ But a remembrance of their good qualities al-
ways tends to console us in our hour of afflic-
tion. May I ask his age?”

“ Forty-nine,” sighed Mrs Grandey.

“ Indeed!” mildly exclaimed the reporter,
but he remembered in time. “ Isn’t that an un-
usual age?”

“ I never heard, but I believe the insurance
company’s tables, or statistics, make no differ-
ence in favor of that age over any other.”

“Everybody says he was the handsomest in
t0wn,” encouraged the reporter. “I suppose
you will get another, though you will find it
hard to get an equally intelligent one.”

[A stifled groan from the widow.]

“ I am sure the lady readers of the Daily Tw-
ror would be interested in knowing how you
trained him,” continued the reporter. “ He
knew so very many tricks. I have heard it in-
timated that you hired a professor to train him.”

“ It is no such thing!" spoke up Mrs. Grandey,
sharply.

“ I was sure you were capable of managing
him without assistance, and—”

L‘ Sirii)

“ I have often wondered where you got him.
One rarely sees such beautiful. curly, silken

 

foam under the hows being fancifu 3 held to be a

teeth. _
“ nose," "forefoot, etc.

 

me under the ship’s nose or stem therefore in her ' e ”
b0 The bows go by the various slang names of Of a Iare breed. Was he not!

hair. and in such extreme profusion. He was

“ And his tail, too, had not its equal in this
city. I have often noticed how closely it
curled, and what a wealth of fine hair it pos—
sessod. What did you do to keep off the fleas?”
“ I was not aware that he was possessed of a
tail; and as for fleas, sir, he was perfectly free
from them!” snapped Mrs. Grandey, both an-
gered and astonished at the reporter’s insinua-
ions.

“ You were lucky, madam—very lucky. But
his chief glory—his finest pomt, as it were—was
his nose. I may say, madam—that a shorter,
blacker, more deliciously-tm‘ned—up nose was
never seen. Every—"

“His nose was neither black, nor red, nor
turned up, nor short!” cried Mrs. Grantley,
with a sudden cessation of her weeping and fire
in her eye.

“Being such a pet,” went on the reporter—
shrinking into himself at the lady’s alarming
manner, “you will doubtless have him stufl’ed,
and—fl
" Sir, leave the house 2” almost shrieked Mrs.
Grandey, rising as she spoke. and bursting into
a storm of sobs. “It isn‘t e-nough that——
John—should be brought home dead, but—yOu
must—c—come here—and—in—insnlt me.”
“John! I came to find out about your
poodle, madam," exclaimed the unhappy re-
orter.

“ And I thought you—were speak—ing of
John, who died—ves—yesterday,” subbed Mrs.
Grandey. “ I thought—you were in—insulting
the memory—of my d—dead husband. Go
away l”
Major Buster and family are not on speaking
terms with the rich widow Grandey, and Mr.
Hatton is languishing in the press-room on a
simple diet—a discharge being considered inad-
equate punishment.

 

Camal Mention.

 

THE British Museum contains the oldest speci—
men of pure glass which bears any date. This
is a little lion s head, having or. it the name of
an Egyptian king of the eleventh dynasty.
Thus it is shown that at a period of at least
2,000 years before Christ, glass was made with
a skill that indicates the art was not new.

A POINT has come before a Michigan School
Board. It is the point of a pin. J ocose pupils
were accused of making it puncture their
teacher. He had a habit of saying, after mak-
ing an explanation and on taking his seat:
“ Stick a pin there.” The temptation to put a
pin upright in his chair, under these circum-
stances, was irresistible. The question is whe—
ther the culprits ought to be expelled.

A CHINESE regiment, drilled in the European
way and commanded by an Englishman, was
stationed at Foochow. Their officer was very
proud of them, and by way of showing their
perfect discipline the “assembly” sounded at
midnight, and the men drew up in perfect or-
der. But he tried this a second time, and the
soldiers, instead of hurrying to the parade-
ground, ran to the windows and greeted their
commander with laughter and cries of “No
catches!”

THE death of Jean Trottet, of Geneva, recalls
a man of an energy and courage which have
seldom been surpassed. He was born without
legs, hands, or feet, yet he learned to write,
fastening his pen at his elbow, and when he
grew older became an active hay-maker, used
the reins with dexterity, and was so good a shot
that he often carried off the village prizes for
mark firing. He was independent and saga-
cious, and has left a widow and four children
amply provided for. Tempting offers were

 

made to his parents, and later to himself by
showmen, but Were invariably declined. ’

THE natives of the Chiloe Islands make use of
a curious natural barometer, to which, from its
having been first noticed by the captain of an
Italian corvette, the name “ Barometro Arau—
cano ” has been given. This novel weather
guide was described, at a recent meeting of the
Linnean Society, of New South Wales, as the
shell Of a crab, one of the Anomura, probably
of the genus Lithodes. It is peculiarly sensitive
to atmospheric changes, is nearly white in dry
weather, but exhibts small red spots on the ap-
proach of moisture, and becomes completely red
in the rainy season.

 

 

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sau. N. Y. 54—26t eow

BflNtUMPTIflll. ’

lhave a. positive remcdy for the above disease: by
its use thousands of ca sea of the worst kind and of
long standing have been cured. Indeed. so strong is
my faith in its efficacy, that lwill send TWO BOT-
TLES  together with a VALUABLE TREAT-
‘ ISE on this ( iseasc. to any suffcrer. Give Exorcss

 

 

and P. 0. address. DR. 1‘. -\. SLOt'I’fd. 181 Pearl
St.. N. Y.

 

32 OCTAVO PAGES.

PRICE FIVE CENTS.

 

     

   

unwind: mun! mm...‘ a. x .  . w l 1' =1 3- l .4! ll ill,

lilllilhl
Copyrighted, 1884, by BBADL: AND ADAMS.

Vol. I.

NED’WE, Th Boy

~— 4-—

$2.50
a Year.

 

  

TEXAS JACK.

1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the
Edward L. Wheeler. ‘

‘2 Kansas King; or, The Red Right Hand.
3 The
4 The
5 The
6 The
7 The
S Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide.
9 Ned \Vyldc, the Boy Scout.

1 0

L. ‘v'heclcr.
1 l
l 2
] 3
1 l

Ycllou'stone Jack ; or. The Trappers of
“'ild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval.

on rcccipt of six cents each.

 

“ I believe New Englaudei‘s are not rare !"

 

Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams,
No. 98 WILLIAM ST., NEW YORK.

    

Bcadle’s Pocket Library is for sale by all Newsdcalers, five cents per Copy. or want by :1:

BE \DLE AND ADAMS. Publishers.

 

       

\\ snows \...~.:.~:ssmcm\s\\:§

 

ill in ll! Ill innit—ii lilll ill Bikinis! b  {- ‘ , \ “‘

Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y.. as Stin‘lltlrgzlflss MailihliteiAIhlarfliLlfisi.

 

No. 9.
BY “TEXAS JACK.”

(J. B. Omuliondro.)

Price.
Five Cents.

 

Scout

 

CHAPTER I.
THE GRAVE IN THE corroxwoon.

A BOY lav fast asleep bcncatli inc
shelter of three cottonwoodf. .The
hour was bordering upon li-ltllllglvl’,
and he slept soundly, as though worn
out with a long tramp—unvesry
tracking of a faint trail leach-g io~
ward theBig Horn .M' Ull'yi‘Jl‘E—tllt‘
Switzerland of the mighty V. on.

His garments were mum. and
travel-stained, and his face and hands
browned by exposure to “.ml, and

' sun. I
ragiidglgnly the sleeper awol; :“l‘ll a
slight start, as though :Quh: grim

 

Road; or, The Black Riderof the Black ll .ls. Br

By Bufialo Bill, \lIon. Wm. F. Cody:

Flying Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrahain.
Do ll blc Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance. By Edward L. Wheeler.
1 “'0 Detectives; or, The Fortunes of a Bowery Girl. By Albert W. Aiken.
Prairie Pilot; or, The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill, (Hon. Wm. F. Cody.»
Bu fl‘alo Demon ; or, The Border Vultures.
By 011 Coomes.

By “ Texas Jack,” (J. B. Omohundro.)

Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguisw.

By Edward L. Wheeler.

Ralph Boy, the Boy Buccaneer. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
Nick 0’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of ’76. By T. C. Harbaugh.

the Enchanted Ground. By Joscph E. Badger. 1:2
By Edward L. \Vheclcr.

Issued Every “'cdnesday.

N0. 95 “‘illiain Sircet, Ne“ York.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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CHINESE LOVE SONG.

BY J0 KING.

 

 

My love she has the sweetest eyes
That ever yet were seen.

They are decidedly oblique,
And very large and green;

Tne pa a of m Shanghai belle,
Is a ‘hinese andarin.

She moves with grace, her fairy feet
Make music as she goes.

And they are but two inches long—
No longer than her nose;

Only two little inches long,
Including heels and toes.

0h. 10%, you are so angel like,
None other can I prize. I

You must have lived your whole life long
On dainty rats and mice.

And had for dessert nothing else
But cat soup and pup pies.

How poor am I? I only live
On common rice and tea,

And half the time I can‘t get these,
Yet, oh, how rich I be:

Thy gentle smile is far more sweet
Than birds’-nest soup to me!

 

Saved by a Grizzly.

BY CAPTAIN BRUIN ADAMS.

 

 

IN the spring of the year—it matters not what
year—I was compelled to take a long and ardu-
ous journey—so considered even on the plains——
from my ranch, on the Sweet Water branch of
the Rio Platte. across the southern spurs of the
Wind River Mountains, and so on, southward,
to Bridger.

Furthermore, the trip was to be made alone,
as my “partner,” Ned Worland. or as he was
better known, Limber Ned, was ofl‘ northward,
looking after a cache that we had made the pre-
vious season.

Nor is it necessary to state my business, only
so far as to say it was for the Government, and
of the highest importance that I should reach
the post at a certain time. _

The dispatches, consisting of two small, thin
packets of the lightest tissue-paper, closely
written over, were secreted in my buckskin
hunting-shirt, by splitting the skin at its thick-
est place, inserting the documents therein, and
then pasting the edges securely down.

This precaution was taken, not so much as re—
garded the Indians, but in view of the fact that
the route, especially in the mountains, was in-
fested by enemies far more dangerous than the
red-skins. I mean the “ mountain robbers,” of
whom there were several distinct bands oper-
ating throughout that section—ugly customers
to deal with, even when you opposed them man
to man.

Concentrate all that is desperate, savage, and
low in the human heart, and you have a fair
sample of these freebooting gentry, through
whose “domains” I was about to pass.

Thoroughly prepared to meet and overcome
any ordinary difficulty, heavily armed, and
mounted upon a horse of unusual speed and bot-
tom, I rode out, at early morning, from the
clump of timber surrounding my ranch, and,
turning due west, struck out for the mountains,
whose higher peaks were faintly outlined upon
the paler blue of the sky beyond.

An hour by sun found me entering the broken
ground—foot-hills of the range proper—and I
determined to camp for the night at the first fa-
vorable spot, instead of entering the defiles of
the mountains for a night ride.

Next morning early, I started upon what I
felt to be the most dangerous, as well as diffi-
cult, portion of my journey; and, after begin-
ning the ascent, following an old trail pretty
clearly defined, I at once became watchful, re-

garding every turn in the path and every pos-
sible cover with suspicious eyes, until the point
had been passed.

I afterward learned. that I might have saved
myself this trouble, for watchful eyes had noted
every step, every movement I had made since
coming within range of a powerful glass that
had been leveled upon me from a lofty observa-
tory.

The road over which I was traveling. as you
may suppose, was none of the best; indeed, it
was, in places, nearly impassable, and hence
my pi‘ogrl s i here was of the slowest.

And, moreover, the further I penetrated into
the fastnesses, the more rugged and dangerous
became the trail.

Upon every hand the great peaks shot upward
to amazing hights: beetling cliffs, with seamed
and broken faces, lifted themselves upon either
3 do of the way, while here and there, gloomy
0 warns opened in the living rock, and yawning
canyons, whose bottoms, in the gloom that per
vaded below, could not be seen. -

I had crossed the Wind River range a score of
times, but never where nature showed on so
rugged and stupendous a scale as here.

Surely, I thought there can be no human be-
ings inhabiting this sterile region, and it so sel-
dom traversed!

Some such thought as this was passing through
my mind, as I rode slowly along a narrow ledge
that overlooked a chasm on the left, and guard-
ed on the right by a tall cliff, when suddenly
the sharp, whip-like crack of a rifle smote my
ear, and the instant following I heard and felt
the ball, as it cut the air close to my car.

There was no mistaking the salutation. The
shot was meant for me, and I knew another
would soon follow, and, perhaps, with better
success for the marksman.

My eye had marked the puff of white smoke
beyond the chasm, and slightly in front, and,
while keenly watching the point, I saw a dark
tube slowly project over a rock, and instantly
become immovable, with its muzzle pointing
directly to where I stood.

Calculating the time neces 5 my to get the
head, I suddenly ihrew myself over the further
side of my horse, sheltering my body from the
assassin’s aim.

As I went down the rifle cracked. I heard
the ring and thud of the bullet, and instantly
turned to mark the spot where it had struck
the rock. .

But it had found a softer lodgment. The mis-
creant had not aimed at me, but at the horse,
and the ball had sped only too truly.

I felt, as I leaned my arm upon his neck, the
poor beast suddenly shiver, at the same time
utter a pitiful whinny, and then, as though
nature had given way all at once, he dropped
heavily forward, struggled an instant, and then
rolled over into the abyss.

It was now a question of life or death in
earnest.

To remain standing there a moment longer
would be certain death, for again I caught sight
of that black tube slowly emerging over the
barrier that concealed the marksman.

Without further hesitation, I sprung forward
on the trail, running as fast as the nature of the
ground would permit, but all the time fully ex-
posed to the aim of my assailants.

But a moving figure is somewhat difl‘lcult to
hit with a. single ball, and twice I heard the re-
ports of their rifles, both times without other
:flect than knocking the splinters of rock in my

ace.

Thirty paces from where I started, the path
turned abruptly to the right, and, in passing
around the projecting point, I found that, at
last, I was out of range.

The exclamation of satisfaction that arose as
I realized this fact, died on my lips as I, on
glancing forward, made a discovery that far
outweighed the momentary advantage gained
by reaching cover.

Scarce ten paces from where I stood there
lay, directly in the trail, a huge bowlder, com-
pletely blockinglit, and of such a. size and shape
as to preclude t 9 hope of climbing over.

The rock had but recently fallen, as was evi-
dent from the appearance of the earth, as well
as the scant shrubbery, which, though torn up
by their roots, was still fresh and green.

With the hope of finding some way of sur-
niounting the barrier, I went forward, only to
be utterly disappointed.

A mountain goat could not have found foot-

 

 

hold suflicient to climb, and of courso no man
could do so. _

However, the examination was not entirely
bootless, for close under the near side of the
rock I discovered a cave, which, though small,
was large enough to conceal and shelter me
from the aim of those who had chosen to make
a target of my body. _ _

Into thisI hastily crept, and securing a post
tion that commanded the opposite side as well
as trail, where it turned, I settled down to
await events.

At least two hours must have passed in this
manner before I heard any sound that would
indicate my enemies being on the move.

Once I had caught Sight of a head peeping
around a rock on the other side, a. scout evi-
dently seeking to note my position, but before I
could bring my rifle to bear it was withdrawn
from sight.

Another interval of silence, and then came
the sound of voices, I thought proceeding from
beyond the bend in the trail, and on my side.

Shifting my position, so as to be able to fire
in this direction, I cocked my rifle and waited.

Nor had I to do so long.

First the outer rim of a coon-skin cap was
cautiously projected from behind the rock.
Little by little it came into view, and, finally,
I beheld a glowing pair of eyes eagerly scan-
ning the “pocket” into which I had been
caught.

The opportunity was too good to be lost, and,
quick as thought, I had sighted and fired.

I saw a dark figure pitch forward, only a
fleeting glimpse, and then it disappeared over
the ledge. ‘ . ,

I had only time to catch up my revolvers,
when the remainder of the band, five in num-
ber, rushed one after the other round the angle,
and, with yells that reminded me more of fu-
rious wild beasts than human beings, they
charged down upon me. -

The foremost fell at my first shot, and the
second reeled against the rock, with a ball in
his shoulder.

The third one would undoubtedly have caught
it next, but just then I received a most unex-
pected as well as astounding reénforcement
that quickly turned the tide of afiiairs.

First a hideous roar, followed by a succession
of angry snarls, and then. actually tumbling
around the corner, a peared a huge she grizzly,
evidently gaunt wit hunger and furious at
having her beat intruded upon.

 

 

 

Shooting a Ghost.

BY PAUL PASTNOR.

 

 

IT was a cold, windy, moonlight night in
early December. The ground was frozen hard,
but there was as yet no snow, and everything
had a suffering, frost bitten look, as though
longing for the warmth of the snow blankets. I
was sitting with my family in our little coun-
try home, around the pleasant fire in the sit-
ting- room, talking. and listening to the Wind in
the chimney, and the cosey hum of the blaze,
and the occasional rattle of a loose shingle
upon the roof, when suddenly we heard rapid
footste)s on the hard path, and the next mo-
ment the door opened, and in rushed our next-
door neighbor, Mrs. Penniman. Her face was
as white as a sheet, and she trembled so she
could scarcely make her way to a chair. My
wife ran to her, and helped her to be seated,
and then quickly brought a little flasx of
brandy from the medicine—closet and made her
swallow a. few drops. This restored the little
lady’s power of speech.

“Oh. Mr. Dyer!” she asped, “do come over
to our house at once. here is a ghost among
the buildings and the children are almost dead
with frightl’ ’

“ A ghost!” we all cried in unison.

Such a thing had never been heard of before
in the. quiet, matter-of—fact neighborhood where
we lived.

“ You must have been mistaken,” added my
wife. soothingly. _ ‘

“No, no!” cried the little woman, jumping
up and wringing her hands impatiently. “It
was a ghost—we all saw it—and I ran over here
just as fast as I could, to get help. The poor
children are hiding in the house now, if they
aren’t dead with fright. Oh, do come right
along back with me, Mr. Dyer—and bring your
gun with you.”

I could hardly help smiling at my neighbor’s
positiveness, and her strange notion about the
sort of weapon with which we must exorcise
this wandering spirit of the air. However, I
did not stop to argue with her in her distress,
but hastily put on my great-coat, took my
fowling piece from its books Over the fireplace,
and signified my readiness to accompany her
home. As we hurried up the moonlit road, she
told me some of the particulars connected with
the appearance of her ghostly visitant. The

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1y cocked my gun and threw it into position
for immediate use. The wind was blowing
strongly, and a loose clapboard somewhere was
makinga weird drumming that did not serve
to quiet my nerves particularly. I walked
directly past the granary and the ice-house,
in the direction taken by the ghost when last
seen, but hesitated somewhat about turning
into the shadow of the great barn. There was
a decided creeping sensation at the roots of my
hair, and the coldness spread from my back
down both my legs to my knees. What if it
was a ghost, after all? I had never seen one,
or the semblance of one before, and had always
been inclined to laugh at those who affirmed
that they had, but just now my skepticism and
coolness were rapidly deserting me, and I was
actually afraid, at first, to go on.

But the hesitation did not last long. I thought
of my boast, once made to Mrs. Penninian’s
husband himself, that I should not be afraid to
sleep alone in a haunted house, and the reflec-
tion that perhaps Mrs. Penniman was watching
me from the window, and marking my reluct-
ance to proceed in my search, urged me for-
ward. I hurriedly passed along the shadowy
side of the barn, and came out into the large
quadrangle formed by the barns, the cattle-
sheds and the tool-house. Here I stopped and
peered anxiously around me. The moon was
under a decoy cloud. so that I could not see very
distinctly, but all of a sudden I fancied that I
caught the glimmer of something white from
one of the open stalls of the cattle~shed. My
heart gave a great throb, and I felt an almost
irresistible impulse to turn andrun. Yes—l
was not mistaken! The object moves! With a
sort of deadly fascination my eyes fastened
themselves upon the advancing whiteness.
Slowly it passed from under the shadow of the
shed, and then, with freezing horror, I saw two
great, hollow, gleaming eyes fastened upon
me, and the whiteness took shape, as it seemed,
the figure of an ill shaped human being, with a
long face reaching far down upon its bosom.

With a tremendous effort I cast off the terror
which was binding me hand and foot, threw
the gun to my shoulder, and fired quickly at
the flashing eyes. I shall never forget so long
as I live the fearful shrillness and agony of the
cry which broke upon my ears, immediately
after the explosion of the gun. It drove every
particle of blood back upon my heart, and,
with an answering cry of mortal terror, and
with every individual hair upon my head

And then, clinging together, they went over into the empty void, still locked in that deadly embrace.

For one moment, and that a brief one, she
paused to glare upon her enemies, and then,
with a howl that fairly shook the rocks around,
she precipitated-herself into their midst.

It was absolutely awful, and in recalling the
scene, even now I can but shudder at the recol-
lection. . ,

The freebooters saw there was no escape, no
chance save in flight. _

They were forced to forget me, and turn
every effort to save themselves from this new
and unlooked-for enemy, and I must do them
the justice to say that never men fought so as
did these. v

But what could four men do against such
odds, and under such circumstances?

One was hurled over the precipice by a single
blow of the great beast’s paw.

Another was caught and drawn into the
deadly embrace: a savage bite, in which neck
and shoulder were involved, a crushing of
bones, and the hapless wretch was dropped, a
limp, inert mass upon the trail.

During this episode the remaining two were
pouring into the bear a re id fire from their re-
volvers, but seemingly wit out other effect than
to render her still more furious.

As the grizzly turned, after dropping. the
crushed man, they together delivered their last
charge, and throwing the now useless weapons
aside, they simultaneously drew their knives
and rushed on the beast.

It was a short, though desperate struggle.

With the strength of sheer despair, the two
plied their knives, and with telling effect.

Suddenly the bear, as though disposed to re.
treat, drew back a ace or two, but it was only
to gather strength or a new assault.

A quick rush, and again the three closed in
deadly conflict.

A sharp struggle round and round the narrow
ledge, and then, clinging together, they went
over into the empty void, still locked in that
deadly embrace.

I crawled out of my hiding-place, Weak, to
use a common phrase, “as a cat,” and pretty
well unnerved.

Of course my journey was at an end, at least
for that time.

I managed to reach my ranch the day follow~
ing, and there rested a day or so, to outgrow
my recent “ excitement.”

——-—_—

 

“I NEVER can enjoy poetry when I’m cook-
ing, said an old lady who dropped in on us re-
cently, “but when I step out to feed the hogs
and histe myself on the fence, and throw my
soul into a few lines of ‘ Capt iin Jenks,’ it does
5613162131 as if this airth was made to livo on after
a .

 

Pennimans had but lately moved into the farm-
house next our own, and Mr. Penniman had
gone to the city to select some furniture for the
new home. His wife, being a. brave little wo—
man under all ordinary circumstances, had not
objected in the least to being left at home alone
with the children, knowing that if anything in
particular were needed,our house was less than
a quarter of a mile away, and it could be easily
obtained of us. This was the third night of
Mr. Penniman’s absence, and all had gone well
until abOut an hour previously, when Mrs. Pen-
niman and her oldest boy. about tWelve years
of age, had gone out into the woodshed to lock
the door and bring in some wood for the morn-
ing fire. Mrs. Penniman carried the light in
her hand. As they ste ped out into the dimly-
lighted shed, the little y suddenly gave a cry
of terror, and grasped his mother’s dress con-
vulsively. Just then Mrs. Penniman saw a
white figure standing in the door which led out
into the yard. For a momentit stood perfectly
motionless, and then began slowly to move to-
ward them, entering the shed part way with a
sort of rustling and scraping motion, as though
it could not easily pass through the door. With
ascream, Mrs. Penniman had turned and fled
into the house, dragging her child after her;
and almost immediately afterward she heard a
cry of terror from her other children, who
were in a different part of the house. Heston-
ing to them, she found them peering with a
sort of horror-stricken fascination through the
window, and looking out with a shudder at the
moonlit outbuildings she saw the white fi ure
just disappearing behind one of them. n a
moment more it reappeared, and then turning
suddenly to the left, vanished in the shadow of
the large barn.

This was substantially the account which
Mrs. Penniman gave me, as we hurried along
toward her home. I confess that I was some-
what puzzled to imagine what the strange visi-
tant could have been, and I will not deny that
as we drew nearer to the lonely house and its
scattered outbuildings, a little shiver of dread,
lbikeka drop of ice-water, trickled down my

ac .

We reached the house, and found the children
all huddled together in the sitting—room, in a
pitiable fright. The eldest boy was doing all
he could to comfort the rest, but it was easy to
see that he was about as badly frightened as
any of them. I did what I could to reassure
the little group, and with a good measure of
success, for they were all wonderfully glad to
see me. and especially with my gun in my
hand. I left Mrs. Penniman in the house with
the children, and sallied out alone to see what
might be done with his pertinacious ghostship.

Some clouds were scudding across the moon,
as I stepped from the shed door, and instinctive

 

standing up as straight as a stem of grass, I
dropped my gun and bounded swiftly from the
spot. Sometimes, in dreams, I have experi-
enced the sensation of being caught up and
borne along in some mysterious, titillating
way, without an effort of my own, but this
was the only time that I ever ex erienced that
sensation in my waking hours. seemed to be
carried along by the wings of my terror, and it
was not until I had reached the door of my
own house that I realized where I was. My
pale and wild eyed look was greeted with a
chorus of dismay, as I staggered into the house,
and dropped into a chair.

“Why, John! what is it?” cried my wife.
“ Have you seen the ghost?"

“Seen it!” I groaned, in a sepulchral voice.
“ I have shot it—Heaven forgive me!”
“Shot a ghost!” echoed my wife.
sible—you must be out of your head.”

“ But you ought to have heard it cry!" I ex-
exclaimed, with a shudder. “I never heard
such a terrible cry from a mortal being.”

“John,” said my wife, in her calm, common-
sense way, “anything that can be harmed b
mortal weapon,t anldbcean cry out aloud with the
pain, is no s in us. in and on ma
sure of that?” g, y y be very

“ But I know this was a ghost,” I protested.
“wasn’t it white all over, and didn‘t I see it
movmg with my own eyes? And such a terrible
face as it had! It couldn't have been anything
mortal.”

My wife stepped into the pantry, and came
out With a lighted lantern in her hand.

‘_‘ Where are you going?” I asked, with sur
prise.

“ I am going back with you,” was her quiet
answer, “to see what it was that on shot.
Mrs. Penniman and the children will fright-
ened to death if they don’t see you again.
Come, now; I am sure that it was no ghost
that you shot, and I am curious to know what
it was myself.”

The coolness and assurance of the little wo~
man completely shamed me, and I offered to
go back alone, at once: but her curiosity was
thoroughly aroused, and nothing would do but
that she must return with me. So we hastened
back to the_Penniman house. We found the
family waiting anxiously and fearfully to hear
from their gallant knight. The gun shot had
put them all in a dreadful suspense, and everv
moment had seemed to them almost un—
endurable. I was glad that, in the excite-
ment of the moment, they did not notice
that my wife was with me, standing outside
With the lantern in her hand. I made some ex-
cuse about going back to see if my shot hadn’t
driven the specter away, and my wife and I
went out into the quadrangle. The lantern
light made a ruddy halo around us as we ap-

“ Impos-

 

 

proached the dreadful spot. Ha! there was
something white, surely, lying near the place
where I had last seen the ghost. My wife
started eagerly forward, and threw the full
light of the lantern upon it. A silvery peal of
laughter broke from her lips, and echoed among
the lonesome barns.

“Why, John!” she exclaimed, “ you have
shot our old blind mare!”

And so I had. The animal had evidently es-
caped from her pasture, and wandered into the
Pennimans‘ inclosure, and being pure white,was
easily enough mistaken for a visitant from the
other world. I had aimed at the r crea—
ture’s glazed eyes in the moonlight, and the cry
that I had heard was that unearthly scream ut-
tered by a horse u hen mortally Wounded.

lt was a strange adventure, and not alto-
gether so laughable, it seems to me, as some of
my friends would imply, when they nudge me
under the ribs, and ask me how I should like to
go ghost shooting one of these fine nights.

 

 

Science and Industry.

 

THE natives of Madagascar have taken clev-
erly to the manufacture of fire—arms. The
have accurately imitated the French mitraiI:
leuse, and call the German engineer, who has
shown them how to make dynamite, “Father
Gunpowder.”

THE expense of the war on which France en-
tered when she undertook, in 1870, to march on
Berlin, is now declared to be $1,727,000.000. As
the war began in August and ended in January,
the cost to France was nearly ten millions a
day, besides the loss of Alsace and Lorraine.

IT is proposed in Dresden to collect all the old
steel pens and sell them fora fund to educate
poor children. The steel of pens is of the best
and can be used in many ways. There is al-
ready in Germany a society of smokers who
save the tips cut from the ends of cigars for a
similar charitable purposc.

SOME birds and animals of Norway do not ap-
pear to be as discriminating as they are in this
country. It is said that the woodpeckers of
that country drill holes in the telegraph poles
in search of the insect which they think is mak-
ing the humming noise they hear. The bears
also uproot the poles in search of the honey
which they think is indicated by the humming
of the bees as they suppose.

. THE main-wheel of a watch makes four revo-
lutions in 24 hours, 1 460 in a year; the second
or center, 24 revolutions in 24 hours, or 8,760 in
a year; the third wheel, 192 in twenty-four
hours, or 70.080 in a year; the fourth wheel—
which carries the second—1 440 in the 24 hours,
or 525 600 in a year; the fifth or scape-wheel,
12,964 in 24 hours, or 4,731,860 revolutions in a
year; while the beats or vibrations made in 24
hours are 388,800, or 141,912,000 in a year.

AN Italian officer connected with the minis-
try of war has invented a system of telegraphy
whereby railroad trains in motion on the same
line of rails can be put at any time in commu-
nication with each other, also with the stations
they are passing or approaching. The s stem
is said to be very simple, and it is claime that
its successful application will not only greatly
reduce the possibilities of accidents, but that it
will enable passengers while traveling to com-
municate with their friends.

SOME of the statistics with which mathemat-
ical people concern themselves seem hardly
worth the effort. For instance, here is a writer
of mathematical exactitude who has ascertain-
ed that there are about 17,000 dentists in this
country, who, he estimates, pack in the teeth
of the American people a ton of gold annually.
He has so much faith in his own statistics that
he becomes a prophet on the strength of them
and holds the opinion that in the twenty-first
century all the gold in the country will be in
the graveyards.

A STATISTICAL comparison showing the rela~
tive extent to which'various nations are ad-
dicted to the use of tobacco has been published
by the Etoile Bclgc, which manifests no little
pride in the position occupied by Belgium. The
proportions are: For England, France and Rus-
sia, 5; for Italy, 7; for Cuba, 11; for Austria,
14; for Germany and North America, 15; for
Belgium, 24; and for Holland, 28. In some parts
of the New World, however, the achievements
of the Dutch are, according to the same au-
thorir y, altogether surpassed.

 

 

Telephone Echoes.

 

A READY-MADE rejoinder: He—“ You made a
fool of me when I married you, ma’am.” She-—
“Lor’! You always told me you were a self-
made man!”

TALKING Texan—“There goes a man that’s
taken nine livas!” Astounded strap er-“Is
that so? Who‘d he kill?" ’1‘. T.~“ fish; it
was the cat."

A Kansas jury rendered this verdict: “ Death
by hanging—rounda rum shop.” An Indiana
Jury sent in a written verdict of “Blode to
peces hi the biler bustin’.”

A JURY_ in Maine, having found the Grand
Trunk Railway guilty of murder, has found it
more convenientto fine it $1,000 than undertake
to hang the entire company.

THEYtell of of a very cultured divine in
BelgraVia, who, instead of saying, “ The collec-
tion will now be taken up,’ impressively re-
marks,,“The accumulation of money will now
ensue.

IN all ages and all countries the scales have
been the emblem of justice. From this it is
painfully evident that the fellows whose busi-
ness it has been to get up emblems have
ntever traded much at groceries and provision
s ores.

TRAiuPs, says a disinterested coutempory,
have Signs and tokens. XXX on a gate-post
means, “ The old bloke wot keeps this ere dos-
smg ken has a gun and two bull-dogs, and all
ltlrue gentlemen will pass on to the next

ouse.

“THE singer,” says an exchange, “ who un-
derstands the management of his breath is apt
to baa successful artist.” The singer whose
favorite song is “Won’t Go Home Till Mom-
Lng”ttilises cloves and cardamon to manage his

rea .

AN English nobleman now traveling in the
West is charged with falling in love with the
housemaid of a Denver hotel and wanting to
marry her. This ma be true and it may be
the invention of a enver hotel-keeper who
wants to hire chambermaids cheap.

AT the bank—“ I have a note here that’s due
to-day. I’d like to get the time extended, as I
haven’t any money—~” “ “’0 can’t possibly let
it go over. “ That is, I have the money, but—”
“ All right, I guess we can accommodate you.
If'you’ve got the money it’s quite a different
thing.”

POKER PLAYERS say that General Bristow,
err-Secretary of the Treasury, and the pet can—
didate of the reformers eight years ago, can sit
as quietly behind three kings and a pair of aces
and non betray his feelings as any one in Wash-
ington. 'But that’s easy enough to do. It’s sit—
ting liehind a hand containin none of a kind
and jack high, and looking as fiiough you owned
the earth and wanted to put a fence around it
then, that’s the difficult act.

“WHAT are you doin with m boots 0 3"
indignantly asked a high State bfiicial ofna
colored gentleman. “ Is dose your boots, boss?”
‘Of course they are.” “ That’s mighty cu’i‘sl"
“ Not furious at all you scoundrel. You found
them Ill-nly room when you cleaned up.” “ Wal
dat’s mighty cu’i’s. Yer ken hab dc boots 881],
of da‘s yerse’f’s.” “I wouldn't have then:
n0w.” “Den what yer wanter make all dis
great ’miration about? White folks gittin’ wuss

ebery day. De blame boots too little fur me
I

nohow. ”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
 
  

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