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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1891, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C.
A five Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N. ¥., Post-Office, March 21, 1891.

aP Pet tte Me Oy ween eet ne Pee M i ohn et uate glo sTh g6% yO F 8 C0 9% oh 0% eet eres in eM sa ete

newt | Vol. 2, ong gy ig od ce _New York, March 2, 1891, Sig deren Crate ome cere 1 No. 46.

nk {This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.]
“| FRANK AND FEARLESS;
tre nol | Or, THE FORTUNES OF JASPER KENT.
in the By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.,

a ae Author of ‘ Grit,” ‘‘Only an Irish Boy,” ‘Ragged Dick,” “Fame and For-
she wil tune.” “Sink or Swim,” ‘Tattered Tom,” ‘‘Brave and Bold,” ete.

 

 

 

 

 

st- (“FRANK AND FEARLESS” was commenced in No. 43. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. |
stake
amps \
ne, and CHAPTER XI. Turning hastily he saw that it was
THE OUTBREAK OF HOSTILITIES, Nicholas.
“I say, this is a jolly place, Jasper,”

cing Mp all
and. ay. st JASPER was quietly thinking over | said Thorne.
3, One

 

 

 

f his change of circumstances, “Yes,” said Jasper. “It has been my
when he was roused oulder. a rather , home as far back as I can remember.”
violent aa on the shou aes

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average
“That’s where yee have the a

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THORNE FOUND HIMSELF
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re? p ‘s7’y7, FOLLOW YOUR DIRECTIONS, MA’AM, SO FAR AS THEY'RE IN THE LINE OF MY DUTY, BUT I WON'T FLOG MASTER JASPER !”

geet i a me, but after all it doesn’t make much, “We are not,” said Jasper, quickly. “That’s very different. Besides, there-| will be,” said Jasper, not very much
on of bas nquerence, as long as it’s going to be my| “It’s all the same—we’ve got the same ae is so very recent that I find it elated by this prospect.
aad Ome n mother.” hard to think of your mother as any re- “No, I suppose not. Mother’ll arrange
Jasper didn’t reply. “You are mistaken,” said Jasper, | lation at all.” about them. How much allowance did
Say, Kent, it seems odd that me and | coldly. “She is, eve Ep I suppose me and you | your father use to give you?”
You are brothers,” said Thorne, not very} “You know what I ‘mean. She’s my will be a ‘good eal together now.’ Jasper thought at first of refusing to
ammatically. mother and your step-mother.” “I don’t .know what my future plans|reply, but it occurred to him that under

 
722 .

the new and strange circumstances it was
not an improper question for Nicholas to
ask. He therefore.decided to reply.

“Five dollars a week,” he answered.

“When was it paid?”

“On Saturday,’

“See here,” said Thorne, drawing from
his vest-pocket the five-dollar bill his
mother had given him.

“What of it?” said Jasper.

“Tt’s my allowance for this week,”
said Thorne, triumphantly.

“I congratulate you,” said Jasper,
coldly.

“That’s kind in you,” returned Thorne,
with a sneer, “especially as you’re cut
down.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jasper,
hastily.

“Mother says five dollars a week is too
much for you. She’s going to cut you
down to three.”

The indignant color came to Jasper’s
cheek. Was this interloper—this stranger
—to be preferred to him in his own fa-
ther’s house? He was not excessively
fond of money, and had there been need
would not have objected to a reduction
of his allowance. ut to be deprived of
his rights in favor of a fellow like Thorne
was intolerable. If Nicholas wished to
annoy and anger him, he had succeeded.

4 Who told you this?” demanded Jas-
per, sharply. .

“My mother,” answered Nicholas, with
a gratified smile,

“When?” 3

“About fifteen minutes ago,” replied
Thorne, with provoking coolness.

“T don’t think she would do anything
so outrageous,”

“Don’t you? You'll find mother’s got
plenty of grit.”

“So have I,” said Jasper, his face
hardening. “If your mother undertakes
to wong me she will repent it.”

“You'd better not say that to her,” said
Thorne, insolently.

“I shall when the proper time comes.
My allowance is not due yet. I don’t
care for the money, but my father knew
what it was proper for me to have.”

“There’s going to be a row,” thought
Nichoias, with satisfaction. “I'll bet
on mother. She’ll put down this whip-
per-snapper.”

Jasper turned away, and walked out of
the ee:

“Where are you going?” asked Thorne.

“To walk.”

“T guess I’ll go along, too.”

-“T would rather go alone.”

“You’re not very polite.”

“Excuse me,” said Jasper, with the in-
stinct of a gentleman. “You would find
me very poor company. Another time we
will walk together.”

“Oh, just as you like; I don’t want to
intrude,” said Thorne, sulkily.

They did not meet again till supper.
Mrs. Kent) presided. On one side sat
Nicholas, on the other Jasper. Our hero
looked sad. The kind, worn face he was
accustomed to see at the head of the table
was gone forever. He felt that he was
indeed desolate. His appetite was very
small, while, on the other hand, Nicholas
seemed famished. His mother kept ply-
ing him with dainties and tidbits, and
_ he appeared to like the treatment amaz-

ingly,
“Why don’t you eat, Jasper?” asked
Thorne with his mouth full.

“T am not hungry.”

“T should think ron walk might have

iven you an appetite.” .

oesn’t appear to.”

“You look awful glum.
said this afternoon?

—“ About what?”

“Your allowance being cut down.”

“T wasn’t thinking about that particu-
larly. Besides, you are not the one from
whom I expect to receive such communi-
cations.”

“It’s all true, though, as you will find.

Ain’t it, mother?” persisted Nicholas,
who was anxious to have the row come
off as soon as possible.
BT rd ad turned his glance upon Mrs.
_ “You needn’t have introduced the sub-
ject, Nicholas,” she said, with slight re-
proof.

“Why not, mother?”

“Tt isn’t a Proper subject to introduce
at the supper-table.”
“You see, Jasper didn’t half believe
what I told him.” 5
' “He may rely upon your statement,”
- said Mrs, Kent.
“Am I to understand that my allow-
ance is reduced to three dollars a week?”
asked Jasper, who felt that he had been

- dragged into the discussion.

“Yes, Iconsider that three dollars a
week is a liberal allowance for a boy of
our age.” ;

“My father gave me five.”

-“Your father acted according to his

_ judgment,” said Mrs. Kent, coldly. “On
some points I differ from him in judg-

ment. I think that he indulged you too

SP pies, peobably because you were his only

Cc. & i
“Fe was always kind to me,” said Jas:
per, “It wae his nature to be kinds Be nS

Is it what I

easi
bo

 

¢
Nw

Coop

“You will find me kind, too, if you de-
serve it,” said his step-mother. But her
tone belied her words.

“Nicholas tells me that his allowance
is to.be five dollars,” said Jasper.

“IT conceive that the amount of his al-
lowance has nothing todo with yours,”
said Mrs. Kent,

“Ts it true?” persisted Jasper,

“Tt is,” said Mrs. Kent, with a defiant
look, which Jasper interpreted to mean,
“what are you going to do about it?”

“Why is he to receive five dollars, if I
am only to get three?” *

“Because I choose.”

“You have answered rightly,” said Jas-
per, scornfully, “Even you are unable to
defend it on the score of fairness or jus-
tice,”

' Mrs. Kent’s thin lips,compressed.

“Audacious boy!” she exclaimed, “do
you dare to speak to me in this style?”

“T am not aware of any impropriety,
madam. I am protesting against your
unjust partiality for Nicholas.”

“He is my son.”

“Tam aware of that; but the money
out of which the allowance is paid came
to you from my father.”

“Do you dare to continue your im-
pertinent remarks?” exclaimed his step-
mother, pale with rage.

“Madam, I am only stating the truth,”
said Jasper, sturdily. “You cannot ex-
pect me to submit tamely to such an’ in-
justice. Had you reduced my allowance,
and given Nicholas no more, I would
have let it pass.”

“T won’t submit to this impertinence!”
exclaimed Mrs. Kent, furiously. ‘“ Nicho-
las, will you sit there and see your
mother insulted?”

“What do you want me to do, mother?”
asked Thorne, not exactly liking the turn
matters had taken. ;

“Put that unmannerly boy out of the

room.

“Oh, there ain’t any need of that,” said
Thorne, who knew by experience Jasper’s
strength.

“Do as I say, or I will give you no al-
lowance at all,” said Mrs. Kent, stamp-
ie her foot angrily.

icholas unwillingly arose from his
seat, and eiprenched Jasper.

“You'd better not try it, Thorne,” said
er, coolly. —

o you hear that, sir? He has in-
sulted you, too,” said Mrs. Kent, in a fu-
rious passion.

It was these words, perhaps, that
spurred Nicholas to his task. Jasper had
now risen, and Thorne threw himself
upon him.

But Jasper was prepared. In less time
than I have required to tell it, Thorne
found himself prostrate on the floor,

“Madam,” said Jasper, turning to his
step-mother, “I am ready to leave
presence now, but of my own accord,

He left the room.
astonished to speak. She had felt no
doubt that Nicholas was more than a
match for Jasper, as he certainly was big-
ger and weighed twenty pounds more.

“My poor boy!” she said, pitifully,
be over her son; “are you much

Pt re ati nee ‘ ,

“Yes,” said Nicholas; “and it’s all on
account of you.”

“T thought you were stronger than he.”

“So Iam, but he knows how to wres-
tle; besides, he’s so quick.” :

_“T thought you could have put him out

Jas
“

il; ff f { \ .
“Well, don’t set me to doing it again,”
said Thorne, sulkily. sei didn’t want to
fight. You made me.”

‘Don’t mind it, my dear boy, It was
because I was angry with him.”

“Oh, how my head aches!” ;

“I'll put on some cologne. I'll give you

| an extra five dollars, too, for standing by

your mother,” Hea gave

“All right, mother,” said Thorne, in a
more cheerful tone.
talk. Give it to me now.”

Jasper did not see either of them again

that evening. He called on a friend, and, |:
entering the house at ten oclock, went di-.

rectly to his own room,

CHAPTER XII.
A SCHEME OF VENGEANCE,

RS. KENT had never cared for
Jasper. Since the marriage she
had disliked him, Now that he

«e5 > had struck down Nicholas in her
presence, she positively hated him. She
did not stop to consider that he was pro-
voked to It, and only acted in self-de-
fense. She thirsted for revenge—more,
indeed, than Nicholas, who, bully, as he
was, having been fairly worsted, was
disposed to accept his defeat philosophi-
cally. If he could annoy or thwart Jasper
he would have been glad todo it, but he
did not desire to injure him physically.

Not so Mrs. Kent.

Her darling had been assaulted and de-
feated in her presence. She did not again
wish to put him against Jasper lest he
should be again defeated, but she wished
Jasper, her detested step-ren;, to drink

y

our.

Mrs. Kent was too | pj

“That's the way to|

| Falls?”

NEWS.

the same cup of humiliation which had
been forced upon Nicholas,

So she sat pondering how to aceémplish
the object she had in view. She could not
herself beat Jasper, though had he been

ave attempted it.
deputy.
nder the circumstances she thought of
Tom Forbes, a strong and stalwart hired
man, who had been for some months
working on the place. Hae ele would
not like the task, but she would threaten
to discharge him if he refused to obey her
commands, and this, she thought, would
bring him around.
“T wonder where. Jasper is?” said Nicho-
las, about, eight o'clock, as he sat oppo-

She must do it by

sewing.

“Gone out, I suppose,” said Mrs. Kent.

“He found the house too hot to hold
him,” suggested Thorne.

“He certainly will if he conducts him-
self in the future as he has already done.
He makes a mistake if he thinks I will
tolerate such conduct.”

“It’s because you’rea woman,” said her
son. “Boys of his age don’t make much
account of women.”

“Do you speak for yourself as well as
for him?” asked Mrs. Kent, sharply.

“Of ‘course not,” said Nicholas, whose
interest it was to keep on good terms
with his mother. “Of course not}; be-
sides, you are my mother.”

“You are much more of a gentleman
than Jasper is,” said his mother, ap-
peased.

“T hope so,” said Nicholas.

“As for him, I consider him a young
ruffian.”

“So he is,” said Thorne, who was ready
to assent to anything that his mother
might say.

“And yet his father thought him a
paragon!” continued Mrs. Kent, her lip
curling. “It is strange how parents can
be deceived !”

Unconsciously ‘she . illustrated = the
truth of this remark in her own person,
She considered Nicholas handsome,
spirited, and amiable—indeed, as an un-
usually Se and attractive boy.
To others he was big, over-grown, mali-
cious, and stupid. But then mothers are
apt to look through different spectacles
from the rest of the world. |!

“T guess ea want to change his
guardian,” said Thorne, laughing. “You
and he won’t hitch horses very well.”

“Don’t use such a common expression,
Nicholas... I want you to grow up a well-
bred gentleman.” |

“Oh, well, I mean to, But I say, if his
father liked him so much, what e
him appoint you to take care of him?” _|
“He didn’t know how I felt toward}
Jasper. _I humored_ his fancies, and
treated him better
fen. ae re es
sae wanted to be his guardian?”
| “Yes, 1 wanted to pay off old scores,”
said Mrs. Kent, again compressing her
lips with unpleasant firmness. = =

“What made you dislike him?” asked
her son, with curiosity, =  _*}

“He was opposed to my marriage. He
would have stopped it if he could, but
there I got the better of him. When he
found that he was too late he treated me
with coldness. He never liked me.”

“By Jove! I don’t think he’s had much
gl said Nicholas, laughing boister-
ously. i
“He'll regret not having treated me
with more attention. I can thwart all
his plans, and make his life very uncom-
fortable.” :

“T’ll trust you to do
You've got spunk enough.

“Don’t say spunk, Nicholas.”

“What shall I say, then?”

_ “Resolution—firmness.” ee

“Tt’s all the same.” — es
“There is a choice in words. Remem-
ber, my dear boy, I want you to be a re-
|fined and cultivated gentleman.” ‘
“Well, I can be, now you're rich. But,
I say, mother, what are you going to do?
You ain’t going to stick down in this]
dull place allgyour life, are you?”

“No, Nicholas. In the summer we'll go
traveling.”

that, mother.

“Where will you go?” ,

faction. wr
you like to go to Niagara

“How would

“Bully !”

“Or to Saratoga?”

“T don’t know much about that.”

“Tt is a fashionable place.” é

“Can a fellow have fun there?”

“Of course he can.”

“Then I’d like to go. But, I say, are
you going to take Jasper, too?” :

“No,” said Mrs. Kent, decidedly. “I
certainly shall not give him so much
pleasure.”

“T don’t know. I might like it better
if lhad a fellow of my own age to go
around with.” ial

“You will find plenty of companions,
more agreeable than Jasper.”

 

 

“All right, mother, I suppose you
know bent,” 3 k ee }

ounger and smaller, she would certainly |:

dering hired man.

site the little table where his mother was]

step-mother, sarcastically.
than I felt toward | 1

|said Jasper,

“Good!” exclaimed Nicholas, with satis-}

“You can trust me to provide for: your —
happiness, Nicholas. It is all I live for.” —
he next morning Mrs. Kent aroseearly, —
and ‘summoned the hired man, Tem

Forbes.
“Tom,” said she, “have
whip?”
“Yes, ma’am,”.
“And a strong arm? Fe
_ “Middlin’, ma’am,” answered the won-

bd

“TI want you to be in the kitchen,
vided with your whip, when breakf:
over. — ‘ ‘By
“What for?” asked Tom, in surprise,
“Never mind now, Ishall inform you
at the’time.” ae !
“All right, ma’am.” ; ;
Twenty minutes later, Jasper, unaware
of, his step-mother’s benevolent inten-
tions, took his seat at the breakfast-table.

4 a.
i is

CHAPTER XIII.
MRS. KENT IS FOILED.

REAKFAST was a silent.meal.; —
Mrs. Kent preserved a frigid. si-) —
DS) lence toward Jasper, interrupted —
OG only by necessary questions. Nicho-

las, who understood that there was a row ~

in. prospect, » pocasign sii ae smal leg 7 =
t Jasper, but he

looked across the table a
too, was silent. ~ ,

When breakfast, ‘was. over, and the
three arose from the table, Mrs. Kent said,
in a cold voice:

“Jasper Kent, I have something to say
to you.”

“Very well,” said Jasper, taking 4
seat, and looking expectant.

“Yesterday you conducted yourselfin

a most improper manner.”
“Please explain,” said Jasper, quietly.
_“ You ought not to require any explana —
Bots You made an assault upon Nicho
as.” '
“I beg pardon, Mrs. Kent, but he made
an assault upon me.”
“You knocked him down.” 7
“Not until he attacked me.”
“He.did so by my direction.”
“Did you expect me to make no resist-
ance?” asked Jasper. wt
“You had insulted me, and it was hi
duty, as my son, toresent it,” _ j
“TY don’t think you have any right td
say that I insulted you, and you would
not have any reason to complain of mey
if you would treat me with ordinary iUS
tice and politeness.” i ae
“You are insulting me now,” said Mrs«
Kent, angry: ie
“T ‘am. telling. the truth. I am sory
that itis the truth. I would prefer
live on good terms with you.”
“And have your own way!” said his
“T under:
stand you, but I will have you know that
( am 1 in this house. Are you i
ready to apologize for having attacke®
Nié¢holas?” oe 7°": ? er
“1 did not wish to do it, especially ae: f
he didn’t attack me of his own accord, pe
if he should do so again I should act #2
the same manner.” | ‘ ae
Fae !” exclaimed his step-mothet
ening, ae ier ee
x OU have peculiar ideas of insolence:
ietly. “I believe in a
fending myself, but 1 shouldn’t like ™
harm Nicnolas.” i st
“You haye undertaken to rebel again”)
my authority,” said Mrs. Kent, “but fale
en aoe ane not to be bul
ied or overcome by a boy.” ‘
“You are in no danger of either from
me, madam.” | the
“T shall take care not to give you 1"
power. Nicholas, call Tom.” in
~ Jasper looked at his step-mother aan
es ecnee yee had Tom Forbes to@®
with their colloquy. Y hag bi
"Nicholas opened the door of the adjoins eg
ing room, the kitchen, and summope™ —

the hired man. ;
. Ignorant of why he was wanted, fOr
Mrs. Kent had not informed him a sf
came into tte a and looked abOr"
with a perplexed expression. une

He Sas tall, stroug-looking fellow’ Pea
country-bred, of about eye. ve or ae

om

“Where is your whip,
acta ed Tor ae
a ” repeated Tom. '
“Yes, didn’t I tell you I wanted you f

have it.” ee
“Yes, ma’am: it’s in the kitchen.”

“Bring it.” 2 ee
; x 5uS went page the See and re
urned, bringing the whip. iss
“What am I to do with it?” be askers |

“I will tell you ina moment. ‘ng $0
Kent,” said his step-mother, turDi™s ct —
one “vou ae rebelled ace my
authority, you have insulte ate
own Honan 400 haye made a brutal oa?
tack upon my son in my
now I am going to have
Tom, I order you to give «
dozen lashes with your whip.

It is hard to tell which
more surprised at this brutal |
Jasper or the hired man. They
each other in amasement, bw

not stity |

 

> deman' 7 bs
 

 

 

   

GooD

 

 

   

NEWS.

723

 

“Did you hear me?” asked Mrs. Kent,
sharply, impatient of the delay.

“Yes, ma’am, I heard you,” answered
Tom, slowly.

“Why don’t you obey, then?” she con-
tinued, in the same tone.

“Because,” said Tom, with manly inde-
pendence, “I didn’t hire out todo any-
thing of the kind.”

“Do you refuse?”

“Yes, I do. You may do your own
dirty work.”

“It seems you are not only disobedient,
but insolent,” said Mrs. Kent, angrily.

“You must be crazy, ma’am,” said the
hired man, bluntly.

“No more of this. I discharge you from
my employment.”

un! for not flogging Master Jas-
per »”

“For not obeying me.”

“T’ll follow your directions, ma’am, so
far as they’re in the line of my duty, but
I won’t do that.”

“T discharge you.”

“As to that, ma’am, if I go, I'll let
everybody in the village know why you
sent me away.”

For this Mrs. Kent was not altogether
prepared. She knew that it was not pru-
dent to defy public opinion. Perhaps
she had already gone too far. She puta
great constraint upon herself, and said:

“Go back to your work. I will speak
of this matter hereafter.

Tom withdrew at once, glad of the op-
portunity. Thus far Mrs. Kent had been
foiled, and she knew it. She could
scarcely conceal her mortification.

Jasper, who had been passive thus far,
now spoke. He felt outraged and dis-
gusted by his step-mother’s brutal pur-
pose, though it had failed.

“Mrs. Kent,” he said, with quiet reso-
lution, “after the scene of this morning I
cannot remain in ‘the same house with
you. My father has not been a week
dead, yet you have treated me in a man-
ner which, though I never liked you, I
could not have thought possible. You
are left my guardian. Ido not wish to
remain another day in this house. Have
I your permission to return to school?”

“No,” said his step-mother.

“Why not?”

“Because you wish it. Ido not mean
to let you have your own way.”

“lam willing to go to another school,
if you insist upon it.”

“You will go to no school.
stay here.”

“In this house?”

“ Soo.”

“With the opinion which you have of
me, Mrs. Kent, I should hardly think this
would be very agreeable to you.”

“It will not. I hate the sight of you,”
said his step-mother, with energy.

“TI am sorry for that, but Iam not sur-
prised. From the way you have treated
me, I should think so. Won’t it be bet-
ter for us both to be separated?”

“It will gratify your wishes, and there-
fore I order you to remain here.”

“That we may have more such scenes
as vesterday and to-day?”

“No, I am determined to break your re-
bellious will, and teach you to obey me
implicitly.”

“I have only to ask if you have fully
made up your mind,” said Jasper, quietly,
but with suppressed excitement.

“I mean precisely what I say.”

“Then, madam, I shall have to leave
this house, and go out into the world. I
shall find more kindness among strangers
than here.”

“T have heard boys talk like this be-
fore,” said Mrs. Kent, with contemptuous
incredulity.

“Boys sometimes mean what they say,”
retorted Jasper.

He took his hat, and left the room
without another word. :

“T say, mother,” said Nicholas, “sup-
pose he don’t come back.”

“There’s no fear of that,
Kent, coldly.

“But I say, mother, he’s pretty plucky,
Jasper is,”

“He won’t run away from me as long
as I have charge of his property, you
may be sure of that. He'll be coming
back and apologizing pretty soon.”

“Suppose he doesn’t?”

“Then it'll be his own fault.”

“You may as well let him go back to
school, mother. He'll be out of our way,
and we can enjoy ourselves.” _

“I am not going to gratify him so far.
He has defied me, and insulted me, and
he must take the consequences,” said Mrs.
Kent, with a compression of her thin lips.

On the whole, Jasper’s prospects could
not be said to be very flattering.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_—_—__~+0-»___——_-

OLD COINS.

The ticket agents on the New York
Elevated Railways occasionally turn a
Snug little penny by keeping a sharp
look out for the old and rare coins which

ey may receive, and sellin these to the
old ‘coin collectors. Many of the coin col-
ectors have certain agents whom they

You will

” said Mrs.

 

regularly. visit and inquire eagerly for
“any finds.” Most of the money passed
in to the ticket agents, of course, is small
change, and some very rare coins have
been picked up in this way.
———_—__~+-

Lieutenant Garey’s Luck.
A Companion Story to “Cadet Carey.”

eet pgs

By Lieut. LIONEL: LOUNSBERRY.
Author of '‘Cadet Carey,” “Midshipman Merrill,” etc,

_

 

[“LIEUTENANT CAREY’s LUCK” was jcommenced in

No. 36. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.]
CHAPTER XXXVITI.
A RACE FOR LIFE.

c

==S0UR days had Lieutenant Kit Carey

i been gone on his mission, what-
¢\ ever it might be, and Colonel Cran-

“ dall and the two officers who were

in the. secret with him were becoming

alarmed at his long stay.

Tney had expected to hear from him at
least, though just how they did not
know.

Still Kit had said he would soon let
them know what was going on.

About the fort matters were as when
the young officer left.

The Indians were known to be about in
force, for the scouts so reported them,
and yet no move had been made by them
yet against Fort B—— or Fort L——.

How to account for this Colonel Cran-
dall did not know, as Kit had said the
attack would hardly be delayed against
ae B—— more than three days at furth-
est.

The scouts reported also that the In-
dians seemed to be very uneasy, though
in force apparently too great to feel fear
of an attack from the fort.

“Something has gone wrong with them,
but what it is I cannot make out,” had
been Jack Crawford’s report to Colonel
Crandall.

It was upon the afternoon of the fifth
day after Kit’s departure that two horse-
men were reported in sight from the look-
out tower, riding along the overland
ree trail, with all speed, and toward the

ort.

A second report came quickly that the
two horsemen were pursued by Indians.

Instantly Lieutenant Leffingwell went
out with a dozen cavalrymen to their
aid, and a general alarm was sounded
from the fort.

“One is an Indian, the other a man in
uniform,” said Major Dick Duluth to
Colonel Crandall, who was in the tower
watching them.

“The Indian is Carey, and who the
other is I do not know,” Surgeon Powell
said, in a low tone.

“You are right, Powell,” quickly -re-
sponded Major Duluth, and the two offi-
cers hastened down to the stockade gate
to meet the two horsemen, who had now
slackened their pace, as Lieutenant
Leffingwell’s riding out had checked the
pursuit of the half a hundred redskins
who were in chase.

They saw the two horsemen meet Lieu-
tenant Leffingwell, who, after a short
halt, went on with his men, while these
who had had a chase for life came on to
the fort.

As they drew nearer Surgeon Powell
eyed the two closely through his glass.

“One is certainly Carey, chief’s rig,
roan stallion, and all.” 7

“Yes, and the other is a soldier; doubt-
less some courier whom he has helped out
of a scrape.”

“No, for the man is, in irons,
cried Frank Powell. :

“Holy smoke! but you are right, Pow-
ell. Who can he be?” —

They were not long in doubt, for soon
Kit Carey dashed up, the rein of his com-
panion’s horse fast to the neck of the ani-
mal herode, and the man’s hands mana-
cled, as were also his feet.

 

as I live!”

 

The prisoner was a large man, with a
stern, pallid face, the beard of some
day’s growth, and his hair long and)
matted, : /

His eyes glittered malignantly as they
turned upon his captor, and the uniform
coat he wore, a fatigue, was too small for
him, as also the army slouch hat.

As though deeming further desire for |
keeping up his disguise as a Sioux chief
useless, Lieutenant Carey saluted, and
said pleasantly to Major Duluth and Sur-
geon Powell:

“Good-morning, gentlemen. I have’
brought you as a prisoner Diamond Dan, /
the traitor guide, and known also as)
White Wolf, the renegade chief of the,
Sioux.”

An exclamation of amazement and)

leasure broke from the lips of both
Major Duluth and

ade white man whom they bad believed
ead,

| mysterious disappearance of their

Surgeon Powell, who,
now recognized beyond all doubt the rene-

“We had a hard chase of it, for our
horses were tired, and then Chief White
Wolf would hang back all he could; but
here we are, and when I get this paint off,
and into another rig, I will report to the
colonel.”

“Go as you are, Carey, taking your
prisoner with you,” Major Duluth said,
after having twice shaken hands with the
young hero.

“As you say, sir; but permit me to sug-
gest that you send several companies and
a gun to support Lieutenant Leffingwell,
as the Sioux are in considerable force,
fully five hundred, though there is no
danger of an attack on the fort, for they
are awaiting orders from their chief here,
who has mysteriously disappeared,” and
Kit Carey laughed.

Major Duluth at once gave the orders
for four companies of cavalry to be ready,
and two guns under Lieutenant Benedict,
and then escorted Kit and his prisoner
to headquarters, with the remark :

“T will report to Colone) Crandall what
I have done, and then get ready to go
with them.”

The colonel greeted Kit most cordially,
and cast a stern glance upon the pris-
oner, while Major Duluth said:

“Carey reports the Indians in force,
sir, so I have ordered out four companies
and two guns to go and meet them.”

“Send Nevil,” was the stern response.

“But, sir, 1 had hoped that might
command the——”

“Order Captain Nevil to go, and go at
once, Major Duluth.”

The Major bowed, and retired, and
Colonel Crandall turned to Kit:

“Now, my gallant young aid, you look
the Indian chief out and out; but give a
report of yourself.”

“T intended to change my costume, sir,
before coming here, but Major Duluth
bade me come as I was.”

“That was right; but now tell me how
you got hold of this traitor here, for I
recognize Diamond Dan in your pris-
oner?”

“Yes, sir, it is Diamond Dan, your
traitor guide, and now the renegade
white chief of the Sioux.”

“It is false!” cried the prisoner, sav-
agely.

“TI caught him in the act, Colonel Cran-
dall, and more, I have from his own lips
what he deemed, as I did, was his dying
confession of all that he was. The sword
thrust I gave him when he killed Lieuten-
ant Tarpley, is not yet healed—there is
no mistake in the man, Colonel Crandall,”
and Kit Carey spoke decidedly.

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.
DENOUNCED.

TT N afew words Lieutenant Carey told
if his story of how he had captured the
great chief of the Sioux, adding:

2 ~“T had to strike him a severe blow,
sir, for I knew he would force me to
shoot him rather than yield. I dressed
the wound, and the one in his side as
best I could, and made his toilet into
what appeared to be a soldier, for I put
my fatigue suit and hat on him, as you
see. But it was the hardest task of my
life to get him from the range here, and
avoid the Indians.” ¢

“{ should judge so,” the colonel said,
admiringly. 70 d

“T had to keep a gag in his mouth,
and for twenty-four hours we did not
move from one position. But, at last, I
worked down the range southward, and
struck for the fort. I traveled only at
night, until this morning, when we
struck the Sioux. My prisoner had
slipped his gag from his mouth, and
hailed before I could check him, for I did
not wish to kill him, and then it became
a race for life to the fort, and if I treated
the man severely it was his fault, as he
did all in his power to have the Indians
overtake us. If we had had a run of a
mile farther, I believe I would have had
to kill him, and come on alone.”

“Lieutenant Carey, you have done the
grandest act of your life in capturing this
man.”

“T thank you, sir, and I feel repaid, as
it will cause the Sioux to give up the
struggle. They are all dazed now at the

chief,
and are massed back on the range, hav-
ing withdrawn their forces from threaten-
ing Fort B—— and from Fort L——. They
are now, as I said, centering near Blue
Pass, but as this man was their general,
and not one suspects his capture, they
will retreat after. a day or two longer.

They are suspicious anyhow, and they
will fear that he may have turned traitor,
and»be planning to entrap them. It was
on account, if seen, not to have him
recognized by the Sioux, that I rigged
him up asa soldier. Then, too, the dis-
appearance of the spirit chief mystifies
them. From my standpoint, sir, I be-
lieve the Sioux war is over—at least, for
the present.”

“I sincerely hope so—oh! Duluth, has

 

Nevil gone?”
“He has just ridden out of the fort, sir,

at the head of his command,” replied
Dick Duluth, who felt sore at not being
allowed to go, little dreaming that the
colonel was ey. giving Nevil a chance
to extinguish himself, rather than win
distinction.

“Pray send a guard here for this pris-
oner, and he must be kept in irons, Major
Duluth.”

“Yes, Colonel Crandall, he shall not
escape.”

The guard came, and Diamond Dan was
marched away, Surgeon Powell having
gone with Captain Nevil, his assistant
being sent to dress the wound of the pris-
oner and the scalp wound on the head
given by Carey when he dealt him a stun-
ning blow with his revolver.

Then Kit sought his quarters, the
major accompanying him, and as_ he
went along, his secret being known now,
cheer after cheer greeted him from the
men, while the officers, with several] ex-
ceptions, pressed forward to grasp his
hand and congratulate him, also wel-
coming him to their midst as a “new man
who had won his spurs before he got his
shoulder straps.”

For once in his life Captain Nevil was
cautious.

He would not risk his precious life
after baying won the promise of Kate
Osmond to become his wife.

He returned late in the evening, after
having only had a fight at long range
with the Sioux, who fell back upon the
range to make a stand.

He went to headquarters to report his
return, and found there Colonel] Crandall,
Kate Osmond, and Lieutenant Carey, the
latter in full dress uniform, and looking
very handsome.

But Kit Carey’s face was very stern,
and when Captain Nevil turned to him
with aremark about welcoming him to
the fort, his dark eyes flashed, his look
became darker, and he said:

“T have Colonel Crandall’s permission
to say a few words to you, Captain
Nevil, in his presence.”

Wondering, Kate Osmond at a sign
from her uncle glided from the room,

“T am wholly at your service, sir,” was
the insolent response.

Then Kit Carey took from his pocket a
bundle of papers, and seating himself at
the table, said:

“Captain Nevil, you must not consider
that any personal motive of my own
prompts me in my action now toward
you, for there is none. Though I know
that you were my enemy, since as a boy
I defied your authority, when I knew you
were doing wrong, and know that you
influenced Captain Weizer at West Point
to become my foe, also making bets
against my passing, and intending to
treat me with contempt when I cane
here as an officer, I ain above feeling any
petty spite or grudge against you.”

“To what does this tend, sir?” sternly
asked Captain Nevil, wondering at
Colonel Crandall’s silence under the cir-
cumstances.

“You shall know at once, sir. On my
way here, in the coach with me, came a
lawyer who was coming here upon a
most important mission. He wished to
see you, and also Miss Osmond. He was
wounded in the attack on the coach, and
made me his father confessor when dying,
giving into my hands these papers. The
truth is, Captain Nevil, that Miss Os-
mond’s father and your mother were
brother and sister. Captain Osmond, an
army officer, married a Mexican lady,
and was disinherited by his father, who
had other views for his son. He died,
as did also his wife, leaving a little girl,
and to the care of his old friend, Colonel
Clyde Crandall, that child was given,
and she was known as his niece. It seems
that her grandfather, Osmond, intended
making you his heir, but discovering
your past career, and relenting toward
his son, he made Miss Osmond his heir-
ess just before his death. You were to
find her out, or said you would, and
though you did so you never notified her
of the fortune in waiting for her. She
had an inheritance from her Mexican
mother, given into Colonel Crandali’s
keeping, and you discovered how large
this was, and made up your mind to get
both of her fortunes. Knowing that she
knew nothing of her father, you held her
in your power by claiming that he was
not dead, but hiding away for a_crime
committed, and you would bring him to
the gallows if she did not become your
wife. You wrote the attorney of her
grandfather that she was dead, hoping to
get her fortune, as then it would come to
you by the terms of the will. The attor-
ney tracked you, discovered your play-
ing false, and was coming here to expose
all your villany. His death saves you,
for Colonel Crandall, having the honor of
the service at heart, has consented that
you may resign. If you do not, I have
papers here that will send you to prison.

Then Lieutenant Carey sternly said: |

“Sit down there and write your gs
nation now, Captain Nevil, or take the
consequences.

“And I will promptly approve it, sir,

  

 
tion, as m

f et ha

724

and give you a leave to date from now,
until it is accepted by the Secretary of
War,” sternly said Colonel Crandall, and
his stern, white face showed that he was
inas deadly earnest as was the young
officer who had brought Fred Nevil to the
end of his rope.

—_—

CHAPTER XL.
THE SECRET EXPEDITION,

SURPRISE fell upon all in Fort
Forward after the arrival of Lieu-
tenant Carey, and rumors were as
frequent as showers in April.

Something had gone wrong, and yet no
one seemed to know just what it was.

To the amazement of all, Captain Nevil,
with the commission of a major almost
in his grasp, and the hope of winning a
wealthy bride, as all believed he would
marry Kate Osmond, had resigned from
the army and was to go East at once.

He gave no excuse for his going, even
; e as most intimate friend, Bryd Bene-

ict.
fe simply said that he had resigned,
and was going away at once.

Somehow, people connected Kit Carey
with his going, yet no charges had been
preferred against him.

Then the Indians, since the disappear-
ance of their white chief, had disappeared
from about the fort, and this was set
down to the credit of Lieutenant Carey.

It was also said that Kit Carey was to
command the escort to Captain Nevil
- going over the overland stage trail, and
giving notice that it was safe for the
coaches to come through again.

But it seemed strange that if there was
no real danger, Lieutenant Carey should
pick his men.

Frank Powell was to go as surgeon,
and Jack Crawford was to command the
six scouts who went along, and they
were the best men in the fort.

Lieutenant Leffingwell was to be second
in command, and a sergeant, two cor-
porals, and twentiy-four cavalrymen were
to make up the expedition.

Pack horses, with two weeks’ rations,
were also ordered, and the animals, like
the men, were pigned.

The second night after the return of Kit
Carey with his prisoner, the little expe-
dition was ready to march, only awaitin
the coming of Fred Nevil, who had hel
aloof from every one, not seeming to
wish to say farewell to any of his friends.

“Ah! Carey, I was looking for you.”
and Lieutenant Byrd Benedict came for-
w

said Carey, to whom Benedict had acted
most coldly since his return,

“T only wish you had need of a gun so I
could go with you; but that is not why I
came to see you, for the truth is, Carey,
I have made an ass of myself, and I am
anxious that you should know that I am
aware of the fact.”

“Don’t speak of it, Benedict, for there
is no harm done.”

“Yes, there is, forI am hurt. You see
' I was at the Point the first year you

- were there, and Tarpley was my chum,

_ though younger, and Captain Weizer was
very friendly, and they put me against
you. That feeling I showed out here
until I was ashamed of myself, and I

was getting to feel that I was an ass,
when Colonel Crandall told me the report

ou made of me, and ow my promo-
y senior is on sick leave, and is
: be retired. I say, Carey, I own up
- and ask you to forgive and forget.” |
“Which I do gladly, Benedict, as I
have always liked you. I feel that you
da right to be sore over my bein
iven the command, but sen) ulut
new that I had had a great deal of bor-
der experience, and this prompted his

to

i kindness to me. Say nothing more of it,

old man,”
“You are made of the right stuff, Carey,

uy and I’m your friend; but say, can’t you
arrange to take a gun along?”

“Not on this trip, Iam sorry to say.”
“Well, good-by, and luck to you; but
then you always were a lucky dog,” and
having eased his own conscience, like the
_ good, brave fellow he was, Byrd Benedict
turned, watched Kit mount, and ride
away, Captain Nevil and his negro valet
5 nan ying him.

“You would think Nevil was goin
aay. in ah the way he acts,” sai
Byrd Benedict, as the secret expedition
- moved away in the darkness,

“My idea is that you have hit it, Bene-
ct,” answered Captain Moore.
“I’ll wager big money that Carey was
e cause of his going,” another officer

Faas 2

“Why?” asked several, eagerly.
“Tt looks that way to me, and I am not
I tell 1H Carey had some
ld upon him, and made him resign.
ou know he deserted Duluth once before
a tight place, and this time disre-
daft. rded all Carey said, and went ‘to Dead
an's eapct and nearly lost his com-
mand. If Duluth was out of the way Nevil
would have put on

ard.
“Yes, Lieutenant Benedict?” quietly |},

 

his shoes, you know,

Goonp

and the major was his most dangerous
rival for Miss Osmond’s hand. [I tell you,
gentlemen, Nevil never offered his resig-
nation except under a force he could not
resist, and my belief is that Kit Carey
was at the bottom of it all.”

“Well, ark is a dandy, take him any
way fon will, and is a true friend, a
model office, and knows just what he is
about. I did think the fair Osmond was
a little gone on him, but I guess not, and
if Dick Duluth don’t go in and win now
Nevil is side-tracked, then he is & better
soldier than he is a lover. But, tell me,
where has Carey gone?”

“T give it up.”

“We all do, for it is a secret trail of
some kind, under cover of escorting Nevil
to the nearest stage station, from whence
he could wheel it east.”

“Yes, Nevil could have waited until a
wagon-train went through. I tell you
something is up.”

“Then Carey will fetch 1t back, for I
never saw such a fellow for luck. I have
no more idea of his being killed, reckless
as he is, than I have of being made a
colonel from a second lieutenant,” Byrd
Benedict said.

And thus the rumors went around the
fort among officers, their families, sub-
alterns, and soldiers, even the hangers-on
of the post ae a say about Captain
Nevil’s going, and Kit Carey’s doings.

And the two who could tell, Colonel
Crandall and Kate Osmond, remained
silent through all.

CHAPTER XLI.
KATE’S PLEDGE.

4s) iis passed away, and yet Lieu-

tenant Carey had not returned
from his secret expedition.

The fort scouts reported no In-
dians in sight, and a stage came through
with empty seats but plenty of mail.

The driver reported having seen Lieu-
tenant Carey’s command at the station,
and had assurances from him to go
through, as all was safe along the over-
land trail.

He also reported that Captain Nevil
and his negro valet had taken the stage
eastward,

Not a redskin or a road agent had he
seen. In which direction the lieutenant
and his troopers had gone, after leavin
the station, he did not know, and h
app paar he would find them at the fort.

nee the confession of Kate Osmond
that she was engaged to Captain Nevil,
Major Dick Duluth had held aloof from

er.
He tried to look cheerful, but it could
be seen that he was suffering.

One afternoon he received a note from
the young lady, which read:
“Will you come to me, for I wish to ne ro

He went at once, and found her in the
arlor at headquarters, gazing out over
he scene from the window. She offered
her hand, and said:

“I sent for you, Major Duluth, to make
an explanation in justice to myself. I
have to tell you that which may expiate
my conduct in your eyes.” «

‘I beg, if you have any confidence to
make, iss Osmond, you do so from
your own free will, and not from a belief
that I seek it of ydu.”

“I do act from my own free will. I
know that it has been said in the fort
that I was flirting with you, and intend-
ing to marry Captain Nevil.”

“What do you care for gossip?”

“Much, when it places me in a false
light. You once did me the honor to tell
me that you loved me, and asked me to
be your wife.”

“T could repeat the same to-day did not
honor forbid, knowing you to be engaged
to another.”

“You were then told by me that I could
not become your wife, highly as I re-
spected you, much as I admired you
and you asked the Pledee from me that
if I ever changed my mind I would

frankly tell you.’
rn. a ”

“I gave the pledge, and I now wish to
say to you that instead of loving Captain
Nevil I hated and feared him. feared
him so much, not for myself, however,
but for another's sake, that he became as
a master to me almost, and I obeyed him.
He demanded that I become his wife
and though I told him I held only hatred
for him, he accepted me on such terms,
Let me tell you that when Lieutenant
Carey came he saved me. Let me tell
you the story of Captain Nevil’s power
over me.”

And then she told the whole story of
how he had deceived her, haunted her,
and determined to force her into a mar-
riage with him.

“This is the story, Major Duluth, and
I tell it to you in the utmost confidence
Mr. Nevil left the service in supposed
honor, though forced from it by my noble
friend Kit. Now, have I placed myself
right in your eyes, Major uth?”

 

NEw s.

The major had heard the story with
many conflicting emotions, and now said:

“No, Miss Osmond, though you have
deserved justice in my eyes, for all you
have Porce through, there is one thing
that I would ask you?”

“What is it, Major Duluth?”

“T would ask you if you can keep your
pledge, and say to me that you aie
chaoged your mind, that you can be my
wife,”

Her answer was to place a tiny hand
upon each shoulder-strap and hold up
her red lips for a kiss.

How selfish a man would be to reguire
a better answer from a woman, for it
came from lips and heart as well.

CHAPTER XLII.

LIEUTENANT CAREY’S LUCK.
ey
T was upon the tenth day after the
I secret expedition left the fort that
the sentinel in the watch tower re-
orted a body of horsemen in sight.

All was at once excitement, though
suppressed, especially when it became
known that it was the “Carey expedi-
tion” returning.

It did not take the beholders long to
see that it wasa larger force than had
started out as Captain Nevil’s escort, and
that there were many led horses along.

The party was coming along at a slow
pace, as though retarded for some reason,
and as the advance drew near the stock-
ade entrance to the fort Lieutenant Carey
was seen in the lead, and Lieutenant
Leffingwell, Surgeon Powell, Jack Craw-
ford, and others were recognized.

“They have prisoners, and white ones,
too,” said Captain Moore.

“What has Carey raked in this time, I
wonder?” Byrd Benedict remarked.

At last the command filed into the fort,
and it was seen that there were some
travois along bearing wounded men, and
several soldiers were missing, and not to
be seen aniong the wounded.

Then, too, there were half a hundred
splendid horses along, and many of them
were packed with plunder.

But there were a dozen strange, rough-
looking men along who were not soldiers.

aes. were dressed in a nondescript
garb, half-scout or quarter soldier, and
the balance miner, and they were bound
to their horses.

One of these was a man who appeared
to be above his fellows.

He was dressed in an officer’s fatigue
uniform, cavalry boots, and slouch hat,
enriched by a gold cord.

His left arm was in a sling froma
wound, and his face was stern, of a sickly
hue, and yet defiant.

The man was Captain Dick, the captain
of the outlaws.

Having entered the fort, Kit dismounted,
threw his rein to an orderly, raised his
hat to the cheers given him, for the secret
of the expedition was now out, and
grasping Major Duluth’s hand, was led
away to the colonel’s quarters,

“Tt is useless to say you were success:
ful, Carey, for I knew you would be; but
it’s your luck, pou way, or whatever
inde may call it. Come in, and let me

now what you have done,” and Colonel
Crandall greeted his young aide almost
a eee

“I escorted Captain Nevil to the sta-
tion, sir, from which the stages were
starting on their run east, declined to
fight a duel with him, upon the plea that
he was not a gentleman, and barely
missed death as he fired in my face, onl
Surgeon Powell was watching him an
struck up his revolver, for I did not sus-
pect him of that.”

“And then?”

“The men wanted to hang him, but
were prevailed upon not to do so, and I
saw him off on the coach bound east.””

“You were generous, to say the least.”

“I did only my duty, sir, as a soldier,
and took the responsibility of not bring:
ing him back to the fort for trial.”

“Tt was best, and the matter must drop

there; but Fred Nevil must keep away
from the frontier, if he wishes to save
aa es trouble,” Colonel Crandall sternly
said. :
“TI then went to the second station and
told the agent it was safe to run the
coaches through this far. Then, sir, I
scouted along the overland up to the Blue
Pass mene: and did not see a redskin,”

“Good !” .

“I then made for my old cabin home,
arriving there at night, and camping the
men, went on foot with Surgeon Powell
and Jack Crawford. I found that Sioux
Sam had told the truth, that the deserter
had retreated there with his men to await
the ending of the Indian troubles. He
had his
in a valley near by, and his men camped
so as to mecreny the animals from ranging.
The cabin had been taken possession of
by Captain Dick, who was suffering from
two wounds received in his attack on the
coach, you remember, sir.”

under all there, his horses over |

 

Yes, I remember that you shot him,
dryly returned the colonel,

 

,

_ “One wound was in his thigh, the other
in his arm, and he was taking advantage
of the Indian uprising to get well. e
had with him at the cabin only his negro
servant, as savage as his master in a
fight. Having discovered the situation

and that there was no hurry, we returned

to the camp, in a secure hiding-place, tat

and waited for the following night. Then
it was that Surgeon Powell, Jack Craw-
ford, and I found the camp of the out-
laws over in the valley. I knew the
place thoroughly, so showed Jack Craw-
ford just how to lead Lieutenant Leffing-
well and his men there the next night.’

“ Leffing well?”

ees, sir, for I wished him to attack

asked Surgeon Powell to accom-
pany me to capture Captain Dick.”

“T see, and you yielded Leffingwell
the honor of taking the outlaw camp.
You are ever generous, Carey.”

“It was no easy task, sir, for the out-
laws numbered twenty men.”

“Well?”

“The next night we started for the
outlaws camp, and while Jack Crawford
aoe the troops to the valley, Surgeon

owell and I went to the cabin. Captain
Dick had not retired, and the negro was
playing on a banjo and eeeis » which
seemed to amuse the outlaw chief greatly.
I pushed the cabin door open, an said:

‘Captain Dick, Colonel Crandall sent —

me after you.’

“You had him covered?” _

“Oh, yes, sir; and Surgeon Powell had
the snap on the negro.”

“And then?”

“Though surprised, and not knowin
who we had behind us, both showe
fight, and Surgeon Powell was forced to
kill the negro, who rushed upon him,
knife in hand.” :

“And Captain Dick?” |

“He took the hint that we were in ear-
nest, and held up his hands, after two
shots at me.”

“And you did not fire upon him?”

“No, sir, for to shoot him was to give
him a soldier’s death, and his crimes de-
serve the gallows.”

“You are right, Carey, only you took
great chances. ; ;

“Somehow, sir, he fired wildly. But
having secured him, we took him with
us over to the ae and found that
Lieutenant Leffingwell had done his work
splendidly, for about half of the outlaws
had been shot down before they woul
surrender, and the balance were pris-
oners.”

“And you got all of them?”

“Yes, sir, except a spy or two, whom —

Captain Dick may have at the stations.
Sioux Sam was his last one at the fort.
“Carey, you have done wonders, an
your shoulder-straps will not long
without a bar on them.”
“It would be just my luck to be pro-
moted, Colonel Crandall,” laughed the
young officer, though his face flushed with
pride at the hint that his deeds would
win him the rank of a first lieutenant.

CHAPTER XLIII.

CONCLUSION.

TN the closing scenes of my romance.
I of “Cadet Carey,” kind ‘reader, 1

found material enough in his adven-

tures of a few weeks, after becomin
a Boy in Blue, for this second story 9
my hero as a cavalry lieutenant and aide
de camp, and here it, too, draws to @
close, though the army life of the gallant
young officer was a brilliant one, unt

e gave up the wild life of a border sol-
dier to settle down to wedded_happiness,
for the one love of his heart, Violet Earl,
the sharer of his earlier adventures ang
dangers, the ideal of his later years, be-
came his wife.

The capture of, Diamond Dan, his
wicked step-father and worst foe, an
Captain Dick, could end for them but one
way—upon the gallows.

ey were tried for their crimes, and.
died i the rope. Captain Dick’s men
were sent east, to be punished by impris-
onment for life.

So fell the curtain upon é
lives, and their deeds of lawlessness live
now only in stories in barracks a
around the camp-fire, while the herole

deeds of the border Boy in Blue will never _

be forgotten as long as we admire true
grit and heroism.

(THE END.] ‘

New stories by James Ot1s, EnwarD 8.

Ex1is and M. Quan will shortly be oom

menced,

; ”

SHAKESPEARE’S tragedy of “ Macbeth,

like many of his other plore’, is founded ~
on fact. The action of the
pears to be much more rapid than
currence of the actual] events. ai
states that Duncan was murdered by M fe
aes the am ee ihe ar mn 4
until seventeen ye y 9.
1057, that Macbeth was killed by Mace

he oc-

/
pet

a of -

‘their evil |

dren’ OR Ai
History

 
 

 

    

Capt. Garey of the Gallant 7th;

Fighting the Indians at Pine Ridge.
By Lieut. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY.

Author of “Cadet Carey,” “Lieutenant Carey’s
Luck,” ‘“‘Midshipman Merrill,” etc.

pacciemnn Gemeente

[ CAPYAIN CAREY OF THE GALLANT 7TH” was com-
menced in No. 44. Back numbers can be obtained
of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER XI.

A PUZZLED SOLDIER.

 
 
 

OPAHE daring young cavalryman, who

2» would face any danger with a nerve
‘\ of iron, fairly started and turned

ale under the sudden confession
from Jennie Bernard.

“I have told you a falsehood, for Red
Hatchet is the most desperate leader of
the hostiles.”

Kit Carey was almost dazed for a mo-
ment, and could only look at the young
girl fora more thorough explanation of
his strarige words and actions.

Suddenly he recovered himself, and
wheeling his horse seemed about to ride
back in pursuit of the Sioux chief.

Discerning his purpose, the girl cried
quickly:

% Hold, sir! you would only dash into a
peril your daring could never save you
from, while it would be useless to pursue
Red Hatchet with the start he has.”

“TI believe you are right in that,” he an-
swered, thoughtfully.

“Come, lieutenant, you were to be my
escort home,” said the young girl.

“Tt does not appear that you need an
escort, Miss Bernard, from any fear of
danger, as the Sioux chief is your friend?”

She flushed at his words, for she recog-
nized their significance in an instant, and,
almost eagerly, said:

“Do not spring at conclusions, sir; but
come with me, for I have something to
explain, while I may tell you that which
may be of service to you, as an officer of
the army. Is your command within call,
may I ask, and is it sufficiently large to
keep at bay a force of a hundred or more
redskins?”

Kit Carey was about to answer that be
had no command, or one that he could
call upon, when he thought how strange
was the manner of the girl, and her ques-
tion as to its numbers, while she had
shown such eagerness for the escape of
the Sioux chief.

Could her love for the Indian have made
her a renegade to her own people, he won-
dered.

“Love will cause one to do strange
things,’? he muttered to himself, and in
reply to her question he responded:

“My command will be within call when
Shee, Miss Bernard; but you were say-

n ban”

“Tam glad you havea force near, for
now I breathe more freely, Lieutenant
Kit Carey.”

“Ah! And how do you know me as Kit
Carey?” hé asked, with considerable sur-
prise, recalling that he had not spoken
of himself except as Lieutenant Carey.

“Are there two of your name in the
army, sir?”

“Not two bearing the name of Kit
Carey.”

Y, a were lately on the staff of Colonel
Crandall at Fort F——?”

“You are the one of whom I have heard
a great deal, for your deeds have often
been discussed around our hearth, Lieu-
tenant Carey. I was sure when you said
that your name was Carey that you must
be Lieutenant Kit Carey, as you look
like just such a man as he is described as
being.”

Was the girl trying to gain time for
some reason, Kit wondered, that she
talked thus.

The officer was compelled to confess to
himself that thus far she was a riddle he
could not solve. pa

They were riding along the trail side by
side now, and as he made no response _ to
her last remark, she continued, in her
frank way: ’

“I am glad to meet you, Lieutenant
Carey, glad that you are the hero of
whom I have heard so much, for now I
can be more honest with you.”

“I wish you would be, and as an incen-
tive I will say that but for the fact that I
did not wish to discharge a weapon in
this vicinity, I would have killed the
Red Hatchet, not captured him?”

“And why, sir?”

“T reconnoitered over the ridge and saw
him with you, so could only believe you
were his captive.”

“His captive?” ,

“So I supposed, for I did not think
that it was possible to be otherwise, an

 

toward where I stood.
could use my lasso, I did so.’
“And I heard his cry when taken, saw
that a soldier had him, and returned to
tell you that he was not a foe.”

“And yet you implied a while since
that you had told a falsehood?”

“T said that I had, and I did.”

“That is strange. But it is a woman’s
way, I suppose, which no man need try to
fathom.’’

“That is severe, not gallant, Lieuten-
ant Kit Carey; but I see that you mis-
understand me wholly, sol will explain,
if you will believe me.”

agit you tell me the truth this time?”
“ es, ”

“No losing the trail?”

“Honest Injun, no!” she said, with a
bright smile that lighted up her face
wondrously.

But instantly a shadow came upon it,
and she said, a ee
“TI told you a story because I wished to
save Red Hatchet, ana I will tell you
why, though thus far it has been a secret
to all save four persons.”

“And they are——”

“First, Red Hatchet and myself, after-
ward my father «and my brother were let
in the secret; but now you shall know it.”
“T feel honored.”

“Do not be sarcastic with me, Lieuten-
ant Carey, for I do not deserve it.”
“Pardon me.”

“I will do so, if you will drop sarcasm,
and be as sincere as I intend to be with
ou.”

“T promise.”

“Then you shall know just why I

Seeing that I

,

GOOD NEWS.

 

wished to save Red Hatchet from death,

night to my home, and then went his
way, and for weeks was laid up with his
wounds. That chief was Red Hatchet,
Lieutenant Carey.”

“He had some strong motive for keep-
ing the secret from his people?”

“Yes, he said that it was his love for
me, and that there were men of his tribe
who would seek revenge upon me,”

“Very true, and upon himself, for kill-
ing them to protect you.”

“T had not thought of that, yet it is
so. ButI told a. father, and he told
my brother; but otherwise the secret has
been kept.”

“And the Red Hatchet?”

“Has haunted my life ever since, and
though I have told him I could hold no
love for an Indian other than friendly re-
gard, it has had no effect. To-day he
bade me meet him, where you saw us, if I
had any regard for my people. I obeyed,
not daring to refuse, and then he told
me that unless I became his wife he
would turn the young warriors of his
tribe loose upon the settlements. He it
was who told me that you had killed Sit-
ting Bull——”

“T had killed him?”

“Yes, so he said, and that he had at-,
tempted his rescue, but failed. I put him
off with a promise to give him an answer
within one week, and intended to ride to
the quarters of General Carr and tell him
8 situation exactly. I dared not re-

use.”

“It was wise in you, Miss Bernard, to
do so, and yet when I had him in my
power you were the cause of his going
free.”

“Let me see if I can make clear to you

 

a

SN tee VF!
DNAS NNN EEA }
ey PEMA ees = >
ates Bar| if ———e

“J DO NOT BRING YOU A SIOUX PRISONER,

    

and you shall know—my secret,” and the
cloud that came upon the lovely face as
she uttered the words drove all the sun-
shine way.

_

CHAPTER XII.
THE SECRET.

HE lights and shades of the youn
» girl's face, as thoughts flashe
through her brain and words fell

from her lips, Kit Carey had par-
ticularly observed. .

He made no reply to the last assertion,
that he should ee her secret, but
ve with the calm patience of an In-

ian.

“It was two years ago,” she at last
said, “that I was ambushed on a trail
near home, and we will pass the spot to-
day. My horse was brought down by a
shot, I fell, though unhurt, and as three
Indians rushed upon me I managed to fire
upon them with my revolver. One fell
dead, and—-—”

“Ah! you were plucky.”

“I was acting in self-defence; but the
other two seized me, and what my fate
would have been, Heaven only knows,
had not a Sioux chief come to my rescue.
He was wounded, but killed my two foes,
and then told me that the three ambush-
ers were bad young men of his tribe.
He told me that his people would avenge

secret must be kept.”
“He was wise.” (
“Yes, and he buried those bodies,

d|wounded as he was, where no one has

ever found them, and his people regard

 

I went to get my rifle from my saddle-
horn when I saw, upon my return, that
you had parted, and he was coming

them as renegades from the_ tribe to-day.
He brought my saddle and bridle that

   

their deaths upon the whites, and the,

 

 

 

COLONEL, BUT LIEUTENANT KIT CAREY!”

way feelings about that. The Indian loves
me, and that I could not hold against
him. Then he it was who saved me from
those bad warriors, at the risk of his own
life, and for which he suffered greatly.
That debt I could cancel in but one way,
and to clear it ne from my con-
science I rode back to tell his captor that
he was the friend, not the foe of the
whites, for so he had ever appeared _to be
until his terrible threat to-day. Had I
not said that he was not the leader of
the redskin rescuers of Sitting Bull, you
would still have held him prisoner, and
if harm befell him it would have been
through me. Thus it was that I told the
falsehood, the double falsehood, in fact,
about him, for I wished not his life upon
my hands. Now that I have done my
duty’ toward him, cancelled the debt of
deep gratitude I owed him for his service
to me, I tell you the secret, and of his
dire threat of vengeance. Have I made
myself fully understood, Lieutenant Kit
Carey?”
“Fully, Miss Bernard.”
“Then I shift. all responsibility I hold
to your broad shoulders,” she said, with
a smile. »
“I. accept the load, and wish.
beg your pardon for havin misunder-
stood you as I did, for will can-
didly confess that I believed that you
were in love with your Indian lover.”
She started, her eyes flashed fire, but
when Kit Carey expected an angry re-
sponse, she said, calmly:
“IT cannot blame you, sir, under the

sh now to

T7265

dearly than I ever yet have learned. to
love a man,” and she cast a quick, search-
ing glance into the face of the handsome
officer, whose deeds of daring and strange
history were the talk around many a bor-
der hearth-stone and camp-fire.

What Jennie Bernard had told Kit was
a cause of great uneasiness to him, for he
knew that the Red Hatchet wielded im-
mense influence with the young braves of
his tribe, and was fermenting trouble,
hoping to win fame for himself, for there
is a wondrous amount of ambition, con-
ceit, and pride in an Indian’s nature,
equal to that among some of our own
pale-face warriors.

A week he might wait, to keep his
faith with the young girl, whose grati-
tude to him he had mistaken for love;
but then if aught occurred to precipitate
trouble between the Indians and the set-
tlers or soldiers, Red Hatchet would at
once act without regard to the time given
the girl.

“Miss Bernard, your father must at
once leave his home, going to the nearest
point with his family and belongings
where protection is assured,” said Kit.
“Tt should be so, Lieutenant Carey; but
my father will never leave his home,”
she answered, in a decided way.

“He must.”

“But he never will, for he says that the
Sioux will never harm him or those be-
longing to him,” was the surprising an-
swer of Jennie Bernard.

 

CHAPTER XIII,
THE REFUSAL.

SHE determined manner in which
Jennie Bernard asserted that her
father would not remove from his
home, and that no Sioux would

harm him or his family, surprised Kit

Carey immensely.

“May I ask, Miss Bernard, what influ-

ence your father holds over the Sioux

that he believes he can thus wield them
to his will?”

“T only know, sir, that he regards the

Indians as his friends, and they look upon

him in the same light,” was the answer.

“Yet you were not exempt from an at-

tack from them?”

“That is true, yet they were not the

representatives of the band.”

“Miss Bernard, when an Indian has his

war-paint on he is sullen and ferocious,

and knows no friendships.”

Treachery is a virtue in his eyes, grati-
tude is forgotten, anda scalp of a pale-
face, whether it be from an infant,
woman, or soldier, is a prize that a red-
skin will risk his life to obtain. They are
as merciless as they are cruel, and if they
do not kill their victim he is saved
for torture. I know the Indians well, and
I tell you plainly you must not trust Red
Hatchet, for his intelligence, and having
seen considerable of the world away from
his people, but renders him the more dan-
gerous. He will destroy your home, kill
your parents, and bear you into captivity.

our father must not linger here a day.”

Kit Carey spoke with deep earnestness,
and Jennie Bernard stretched out her
hand, and said, in her frank way:

“T thank you; but I fear he will refuse
to go. Here is our home.” And she
pointed to the log cabin that just then
came into view.

It was a succession of cabins rather
than one, surrounded by large outbuild-
ings, all neatly whitewashe and fenced

in.

A brook ran near, there was a grove of
trees, pines predominating, and the spot
was a cheery one, the home most inviting.

It was just sunset, and Settler Vance
Bernard was pacing up and down the
piazza smoking a handsomely-carved

ipe.
P He started as he beheld his daughter’s
approach, accompanied by an officer, and
uttered, in a sullen tone: 0

“Why has he come here? Ha! it is Kit
Carey !’

The man’s manner was that of one who
was to receive an unwelcome guest.

But as Kit Carey aided Jennie to alight,
and the two came upon the piazza, the
settler said, pleasantly:

“IT was anxious about you, my child,
for I knew not that you had a gallant
escort.”

“A gallant escort, indeed, father.
Allow me to -present Lieutenant Kit
Carey, of whom we have heard so much?”

“Lieutenant Carey, indeed! Can it be

ossible that I have the honor of welcom-
ing to my home the hero of Fort F——?”
and Vance Bernard extended his hand °
most cordially, yet with no show of havy-
ing ever before met the young officer.

Kit Carey was pleased with his cordial
reception, and Soken

“Have we not met before, Mr. Bernard?”

“Tt may be that we have, sir, though I
cannot recall the circumstance.” ]

“It is a fancied resemblance then, sir,

 

 

much. But here is the spot where I was
ambushed two } and those
| whitened bones you see are those of my
poor horse, Dandy, whom I loved more

circumstances, for my words implied as |

to some one I have met, though to whom
‘I do not now recall. You have a lovely
home here, Mr. Bernard, for the border.”
“Yes, I have endeavored to make it a
most comfortable home; but let me show

  

  

   

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
    
   

  
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
    
  

 

peiiongatstte rete:
Se ea z

 

 

cated and well informed. ’ He
gad yet is w.

NEW Bs.

 

 

you to your room, Lieutenant Carey. cor
supper will soon be reaay,”
aving taken the officer to the very
leasant guest-chamber in the Bernard
ome, the host went off in search of his
daughter, his face again becoming moody,
almost to sullenness,

Jennie was just leaving her room, hay-
ing changed her riding habit for a pretty,
though simple dress, and her father asked
quickly, and in a stern tone:

“Jennie, where did you pick that man

“Why, father, are you angry because I
brought Lieutenant Carey home with
me?’

His manner changed, and he said:

“Angry? No! but if officers of the army
come this near the Indian line trouble
will follow surely.”

“That is just what Lieutenant Carey
says, that the Sioux are preparing to
strike a terrible blow against the whites,
and that you must at once leave home
with all of us.”

“TY shall do no such thing, for I will not
be harmed by them; but come, let us join
the lieutenant and & into supper.”

Kit Carey found in Mrs. Bernard a
woman of refined appearance and culti-
vated manners, but the moment he laid
eyes upon Herbert Bernard he did not
like him, and the feeling seemed mutual,
for the young settler accused the army of
being the cause of all the Indian troubles,
and was, at times, almost insulting in
his words and manner toward the officer,
who, however, appeared not to notice it.

No reference was made before the
mother and son of the meeting of Kit
Carey and Jennie in the presence of Red
Hatchet, for the young girl had merely
referred to having met the lieutenant on
the trail, and had. him return home with

her.

But that night before retiring, when
Mrs. Bernard had gone to her room, and
Herbert had departed to look after his
horses, Kit Carey told the settler of his
capture and release of Red Hatchet, while
Jennie made known to her father the
threat he had made.

“The Sioux is a fool to think you would
be his wife, Jennie; but he will not
carry out his threat, depend upon it, and
even if there is a war I will not be dis-
turbed here in my home.”

“May I ask what your reason is for be-
lieving that you and yours will be spared,
Mr. Bernard, when others will suffer?”
asked Kit Carey.

“Simply, sir, that my kindness to the
Sioux in the past has made them my
friends for all time.”

! “An Indian’s friendship, sir, is as_brit-
tle as glass, and I beg that you will re-
consider your determination to remain
here when so much is at stake, and de-
part on the morrow with your family
and belongings.”

“T shall remain, sir.”

“You are taking desperate chances, I
assure oo in refusing to go.”

“Still I do refuse,” was the firm reply.
Kit Caréy said no more upon the sub-
‘ject, for he saw thai it fretted his host to

urge him against his decision to remain.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
KIT CAREY ON HIS ROUNDS.
FTER a very early breakfast Kit

Carey mounted his horse, and rode
_away from the cabin of Vance Ber-

ns
y

2s" nard.

He had thanked his host and _ hostess
for their kind hospitality, and urged
upon Mrs. Bernard to appeal to her hus-
band to at once leave their home for a
place of safety.

“Many have done so who could not
afford it by any means, for they left their
all to destruction, and Mr. Bernard
should not risk the lives of those he loves
to stay here,” said the officer.

_ And from Mrs. Bernard came the calm
rejoinder that they did not care to desert
their home, for then all would be de-
stroyed, while they held not the slightest
dread of the Sioux.

“Blind fools!” came from between the
teeth of the soldier, and in saying fare-
well to Jennie he again urged the neces-
sity of getting her parents to depart.

“Father is determined to remain, and

his word is my mother’s law,” was the

   

neni. z
as your brother no influence with
_ your father?”
-— “He, too, urges that we remain, for he
has perfect confidence in the Indians,”
was the reply, and Kit Carey could not
but observe the look of sadness that came
over the lovely face of this young girl,
hidden away upon the frontier, almest
within the very camps of the Indians.
It was with a feeling of deep regret and
a foreboding of evil that he bade her
ood-by, an rode away from the cabin

home.
“Well, that is the strangest household

_Tever saw,” he mused, as he rode along.
“That man Bernard is a mystery, for
he has seen better days, and he’s edu-
has money,
illing to remain

  

 

| ois wife, child, and son in a wilderness.

His wife is a lady, yet blindly follows his
will. His son is of a morose nature, and
better suited to this wild life than any of
them. But the girl? There’s the rub,
for she has it in her to reign as a belle in
a New York salon, she has been well
educated by her parents I cannot but
admit. Yet, she is as wild as a deer,
too, for she goes about the country like
an Indian, ropes cattle as only a cowboy
can, runs like a Comanche, and is not
only armed, but can use her weapons, I
am so glad to find I was all wrong about
my belief that she loved that Red
Hatchet; but her protection of him de-
ceived me, But must this beautiful girl be
left to the mercy of these red fiends, for
between the Bernard home and the Bad
Lands, where lie thousands of Indians,
there is no barrier. No, I will do all I
can to protect them, as the stubbornness
of Bernard will not allow him to save
himself and family.”

The night’s rest and good food had re-
freshed both himself and horse, and he
soon went at a more rapid pace, until he
reached a position about on a line with
his encircling Indian scouts.

Then he branched off to the left, and
kept up the same pace for miles.

At last he came to a secure hiding-
place, and here he found one of his squads
of Indian cavalry.*

They were seven in number, had kept
themselves thoroughly in ey except
that by night two of their number had
been off on a scout to the Bad Lands.

They had discovered that the hostiles
were entrenched upon a high, plateau to
which only a few passes led, and which
they had fortified.

The force of the hostiles they could not
get an estimate of.

Kit Carey sat down, and wrote a note
to the nearest commanding officer of the
military forces marching forward to hem
the Sioux in, and stated what he had
done with his Indian police, about where
the different squads were stationed, and
hab he would report any move of the hos-
tiles. . ;

He also made known the fact thata
settler, Vance Bernard, had refused to
leave his home, and had within easy
reach of the Indians, should. they make
a raid upon him, all that could tempt
them to pillage and destroy, a well fur-
nished house, filled store-rooms, grain,
horses and cattle, while his wife, daugh-
ter, and son, comprised the household.

“It might be well,” the letter contin-
ued, “to send an officer and force to re-
move Settler Bernard and his family from
their home, thus preventing a tragedy
which will be sure to follow their remain-
ing there, or, at least, to send a troop to
camp upon the place.”

Having written this Kit Carey felt that
he had done all he could to force Vance
Bernard from the danger his stubbornness
kept him in.

it determined to place his own men
in a position, just between the set-
tler’s home and the hostiles retreat, and
to draw from the different squads sev-
eral men, so as to enlarge the party that
could, at least, serve as a small barrier
bi the Sioux making a raid in that direc-
tion.

Sending his courier off with his report,
Kit ordered the others to asuitable point,
which he had observed on his ride
there, and then started for his next post.

This was reached in a couple of hours,
and two men were sent to reinforce the
squad that was encamped between the
Bad Lands and the Bernard home.

The third squad was next visited, and

‘from this, too, men were drawn for the

party nearest the Bernard ranch, and the
news gleaned by his scouts here caused
another courier to be dispatched to
Colonel Forsythe’s command,

This Indian courier bore the informa-
tion that the Sioux chief, Big Foot, with
his band, were encamped on Wounded
Knee Creek, and expecting to remain
there as an advance post of the hostiles,
unless driven on into the main retreat in
the Bad Lands.

The report ended with the words:

“I shall take two Indian scouts with
me to-night, and send a more definite
report of Big Foot’s intention, if I can
discover it, and the possibility of sur-
rounding him before he can join the
others, or do any mischief.”

The courier departed for the command
of Colonel Forsythe, the three men se-
lected went off to join the squad near the
Bernard ranch, and Kit Carey and a
couple of his. Indian scouts went off
toward Wounded Knee Creek, leaving but
three of the redskin guards on duty at
that point to watch the hostiles.

CHAPTER XV.
THE OFFICER-SPY.

“IT OAREY knew Big Foot, the

+ Sioux chief, as a brave, cunning,
and dangerous man, and one whose
~ influence was great among the
different. tribes.

 

  
 

hiding * Called trregular cavalry in the army-

Colonel Forsythe, he knew, was watch-
ing him, but would the soldiers be able
to surround the Sioux leader and force
his surrender before aid came from the
hostiles in the Bad Lands, was a ques-
tion hard to answer.

Still he was well aware that there was
no better officer in the service than
Colonel Forsythe, and if not hampered by
orders from Washington,* he would ac-
complish all that the commanding gen-
eral in the field expected of him.

On his way to scout around the band of
Chief Big Foot, Kit Carey visited a fourth
squad of his Indian scouts, and the larg-
est one in point of numbers.

He sent four redskins from there to the
band near the Bernard ranch, and. dis-
patched two couriers, one to General
Carr’s command, another to General
Brooke, with a full report of the situa-
tion as he had thus far discovered it.

In his report he stated:

“From what I can learn from my In-
dian scouts, old Chief Red Cloud is forced
to remain among the hostiles, and there
is some trouble between the Ogallalas and
Brules. The following chiefs are known
to be among the hostiles: Kicking Bear,
Short Bull, High Hawk, Turning Hawk,
| and Little Wound, the last most danger-
}ous of all. My Indian cavalry nearly
|surround the hostiles camp, for I have
seven squads of men in hiding, with a
couple of men from each scouting by day
and night. Hach squad has orders to send
couriers at once with any information of
reinforcements of the hostiles, or move-
ments of raiding bands. I go now
| toward the advanced camp of Chief Big
Foot, whom Colonel Forsythe is moving
against. If Big Foot’s band is not plot-

ting mischief I shall be surprised.”

Written in duplicate on copying paper:
these reports were dispatched with all
: haste, and, scouting his way as he went,

Kit Carey moved toward Wounded Knee
|Creek, where Big Foot’s band were
| camped,

It was perilous and tedious work for
the daring officer and. the two Indian
scouts who accompanied him; but he at
last reached the vicinity of the Indian
camp, and, unfolding his blanket, pro-
ceeded to carefully “make up.”

In other words, the daring soldier in-
tended to “play Injun,” and get at the
bottom facts of the situation.

His Indian scouts shook ‘their heads
dubiously as he prmaaeces with his toilet,
but aided him all in their power.

His handsome mustache was first sac-
rificed, and his face clean shaven. |

Next came the coloring of the skin,
face, neck; hands, and arms to the el-
bows. '

The war-paint followed, with a wig of
long, black hair, the head-dress and war-
bonnet, buckskin suit of hunting-shirt,
leggings, and moccasins,

The “ghost shirt?’ was next put on,
and last the never-failing blanket.

If any one could then detect. the dash-
ing, handsome Lieutenant Kit Carey of
the Seventh, beneath the paint, feathers,
and make-up of an Indian. chief, a keen
eye he would havé, indeed.

Thus accoutred for the work Kit Carey
left the two Indians in camp with his
horse, and started forth upon his mission
of danger, for he had: determined to know
just how matters stood with Big Foot
and his band.

The camp of the Sioux was on a level
strip of ground, along the banks of a
ravine some fifteen feet deep, and from
fifty to a hundred feet in width.

The tepees of the Indians extended
along the banks of the ravine for several
hundred yards, and were formed in the
shape of a crescent.

To reach the camp from the rear, by
way of the ravine, Kit Carey found it no
easy task; but it was accomplished, and
at last he glided into the midst of the
hostile band.

Dressed as he was, and it being night,
he did not fear detection, for he spoke
the Sioux tongue perfectly. /

Then, too, his walk, movements, and
appearance was that of a Sioux chief.

His greatest danger lay in not being
recognized, but this he intended to over-
come by claiming to be a Sioux chief,
long absent from the tribe, and giving
the name of achief whom he knew to
have been killed near Fort F—— some
months before, and whose fate was not
known.

There were a few camp-fires, with
groups of bucks, squaws, and children,
about them, and one apart, where only
warriors were seen.

Indians were moving to and fro, and it
was very evident to the officer that some
move of importance was about to be
undertaken. |

Folding his blanket closely about him
he, lay down in the shadow of a tepee,

*It isa well known fact that interference from
Washington, writes an officer in. the field, has
proven more dangerous to a commander than the
enemy in his, front. The foe at his face he can
fight, but the foe two thousand miles in his rear
unnerves ever so gallant and able an officer. —

 

 

 

 

 

+A white shirt put on over the other clothing
and painted with Indian signs a

 

~
and watched and listened, for he was
within hearing of the voices of the war-
riors about the fire, where no squaws or
children were allowed.

Several had spoken to him, but with a

grunt he had passed on, and thrown .

himself down near the tepee.

The light of the fire shown upon the
faces of the Indians on the other side
from where he lay, and one face he recog-
nized at a glance.

It was the Chief Red Hatchet, and he
was talking to the others in an earnest,
vindictive tone:

A few words that he said reached the
ears of the officer-spy, and he at once
arose, glided away among the _ tepees.
dropped down into the ravine unseen, an
made his way rapidly back to his camp.

His Indian scouts were on the alert,

and the three were soon flanking the

camp at Wounded Knee and riding rap-
idly in the direction in which Colonel
Forsythe’s
approach. ,

It was just before dawn that the sound
of many hoofs fell upon his ears, and he
drew rein to await the approach of the
command, for he knew that the splendid
Seventh Cavalry were on the mitt

“Now, Chief Big Foot, you will never
carry out the plan Chief Red Hatchet has
decided upon, for the avengers of the
brave Custer are hot on your trail.”

Soon after the soldiees came in sight,
and then Kit Carey hailed:

“Ho, the Seventh Cavalry!”

Instantly a halt was ordered, carbines
clicked, and a stern order came:

“ Advance and report hl sir!”

To the surprise of the advance guard

three horsemen rode forward in the dark-

ness, who appeared to be Indians.

“I am Lieutenant Carey of the Seventh,
in disguise, and desire to see Colonel For-
sythe,” was the startling response of the
supposed Indian chief, as he rode forward
toward his regiment.

The men could hardly be kept from
cheering when the gallant Carey appear
in the disguise of an Indian chief, for it
told them that he had just come from
some daring venture, for which he was
famous.

“Ah! Carey, it is you in the guise of &
Sioux chief?” cried Captain Wallace of
K troop, riding forward and grasping his
hand. “It is dangerous work for you, Lieu-
tenant Carey, to ride upon the SeventD
Cavalry rigged out as a Sioux chief in
full war-paint.”

“T joined the Sioux, Captain. Wallace
to learn what Big Foot and his ban
were up to, and I have news for Colonel
Forsythe,” was Kit Carey’s response.

“Then I wil, keep my advance guard at —

a halt and ride back with you, a to
the colonel,” responded Captain Wallace,
who little dreamed how close to him the
Angel of Death was hovering, though
had he known his fate, so soon to follow,
thetbrave soldier would not have hesi-
tated an instant in his duty.*

So back along the column of troopers
dawn, the sol-

they went in the ear]
diers supposing that the captain was
taking ina Sioux chief prisoner, whom
the two Indian police had captured.
Colonel Forsythe was soon found, and
Captain Wallace said in his pleasant

way:
“y do not bring you a Siouk prisoner;
colonel, but Lieutenant Kit Carey.”

“Lieutenant Carey! who would have

ever suspected you of being other than &
Sioux chief?” cried Colonel Forsythe, 49

Captain Wallace rode up to the com- —

mander of the troops.

*Captain George D. Wallace was killed on the
27th of Dec., 1890, at Wounded Knee in the treach-
erous attack of the Sioux under Chief Big Foot,
a the Seventh Regiment of Cavalry. ‘aptaln

allace was known as one of the most daring an
able officers of his regiment.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

JAPANESE TORTURES.

Until recently the Japanese had eX
quisite methods of torture and punisb-
ment in Japan. Aside from crucifixion,
the beheading of maidens and the flog
ging of soles, they had, twelve or fif-
teen years ago, the most refined -
ture possible. This was death by lac
of sleep. Cruel? There is no word in the
English language strong enough to oF.
nounce that bestial and outrageous treat-
ment. It is done like this, A regula,
box-like trap was prepared, say six ine
high by two to two and one-half fee’
wide. At the top was a wooden mold a
cangur it was called in the native tongu'
—where the head of the imprisone
was firmly held. It was so arrange i
by assuming any other than an erect pS} 4
tion the whole weight of the offender
body would rest on the chin. The m4

could neither lean backward, ncr woe “
he rest at any great length of time 0? ing.

feet. The torture so endured is a th .
impossible to conceive. There was @
lutely no chance for the man to qleep.. edt
Another terrible punishment dev it
was to take a wooden sliver, saturate it

‘thoroughly with turpentine, then drive }

command was expected to.

 

m
d that

      
      
    
   
    
     
    
    
   
   
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
    
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
    
   
  
 
   

 

     
    
   
    
   
      
          
   
   

     
     
     
     
     
     
   
     
         
     
      
    
   
    
    
    
    
    
 
    
 
   
       
     
        
    
 
    
   
   
   

       
         
   
            
             
           
      
     
     
    
    

 

   
   
   
   
   

   

   
   

 
   
    

   

 

   

  
   

alt ate a hie

ar ss SS Oy Ww
 

 

 

 

beneath the big toe nail of the culprit.
and set fire to it But these barbaric cus-
tom have departed. The Code Napoleon
has been adopted, only it is one thing to
formulate laws, but decidedly another to
administer them.

———__~+-0-—___—_

T [ALKS
WITH a BOYS

+

BY ARTHUR SEWALL.

 

 

L. M. M.. of Philadelphia, writes: ‘What would
be the best profession, business, or trade, tor a boy
of the following description: A long, large head,
long fingers, and long nails; very fond of study,
and a knowledge of history and sciences; he is at-
tending high school and fourteen years of age.”

In such: a case we should say wait a
while. Wait until you have finished
your course at the high school and then
decide. For a young man, ail things
being equal, the first thing to do is to get
your education, and after you have
finished your school days enter some uni-
versity. There you will have an opportu-
nity of gaining a more extended view, or
rather of looking upon things in a broader
way, so that then will be the proper time
to decide about a profession. The medi-
cal, legal, and scientific departments will
open for your inspection, and you can de-
termine, which, if any, of these you de-
sire to follow.. Once in the university

ou can decide as to whether you would

ike to enter business. You will in no
way have impaired your capabilities for
mercantile pursuits by the extra instruc-
tion; aoc, you will be better for jit.
On the other hand, if you intend to learn
a trade, then you had better look into the
courses of preparation at the Industrial
Art School on Locust street, above Broad,

or find out what you can learn at the,

Manual Training School in Philadelphia.
At the latter place systematic instruc-
tion is given in free-hand and mechanical
drawing, carpentry and joinery, wood-
carving, wood turning, pattern-making,
proper care and use of tools, forging,

ench-work and fitting, and study of the
steam-engine, including management
and care of steam-engines and boilers.
You yourself will have to decide which
trade you desire to follow, and your de-
cision naturally can best be influenced by
the experience that you will receive from
preliminary work at a training school. If
you elect to be a mechanical engineer or
machinist, you had better enter some of
the works in the vicinity of Philadelphia,
such as the Baldwin Locomotive Works,
where you will have excellent training
and an opportunity of seeing the archi-
tectural features of their business—that
is, to study the processes used from the
forming of the inferior portions of the lo-
comotive on until the entire engine is
completed.

L. E. F., Philadelphia, writes: ‘I want all the
information you can give me in regard to a family
going to some Southern California city or town.
What are the business ontlooks? What about
healthfulness, and any other information you can
possibly give ?”

We assume that our correspondent is a
boy, and hence his writing such a com-
munication to the editor of the “Short
Talks.” Ié he were older he would know
that the proper source of such informa-

' tion is more likely to be in the place in-

terested than in this part of the country.
However, much information about Cali-
fornia can be acquired at the office of the
tourist agent of the Pennsylvania Rail-
road Company, at 233 South Fourth street,
in Philadelphia. He will eon give
a pamphlet, entitled “Pennsylvania

ours to the Golden Gate,” in which you
will find a good deal about the leading
places in California.

When you have decided about any one
place, or desire further information about
that place, write direct to the mayor of
the town, and ask him to have you sent
any circulars or pamphlets descriptive of
the advantages that it offers to new set-
tlers. A prompt response will usually
follow any such request, and you will
then gain still further information about
the particular point in which you have
become interested.

It is also a good thing to read up the
article on California in cne of the Ameri-
can cyclopedias, and at the end of the
article you will find a list of books de-
scribing the State, which you will do
well to read, The fascinating story of the
Alta California is now being toldin a
‘series of articles in course of publication
in the Century Magazine. H. H. Ban-
‘eroft has written volumes on the history
of the Pacific coast. John S. Hittill has
written the “Resources of California,”
which, although published over twenty

“

 

GOOD NEWS.

within a few years, ina series of books !
called “American Commonwealths,” a
history of California, which will cost
about $1.50. It is also likely that at the
offices of the large trans-continental rail-
roads you can procure guide-books con-
taining interesting descriptions of Cali-
fornia. Write to the office, in your city,
of the Union Pacific Railroad, and to the
office of the Southern Pacific Railroad
and see what it will bring. Southern
California, in the near future, will un-
doubtedly be the most charming place in
this country to live in.

F. W. C., Fort Dodge, Iowa, writes: ‘I graduate
at our high school this year. After that what
course shall I pursue to fit myself for an electrical
engineer ?”

Send at once for the latest annual cata-
logue of the Rose Polytechnic Institute,
at Terre Haute, Ind. This institution,
under the able administration of Profes-
sor Thomas O. Mendenhall, now Superin-
tendent of the United States Coast Sur-
vey, has developed into one of the best tech-
nical schools in the country during the
few years of his presidency. It has an
able faculty, including He teachers as
Dr. Carl L. Mees, in physics, and Profes-
sor Thomas Gray in dynamic engineering.
The latter has for several years been as-
sistant to Sir William Thomson, of Glas-
gow, the greatest living authority on:
electricity, but accepted the new charge |
in this country, and began his course of!
instruction in September, 1888.

Of course, mechanical engineering is
the feature of the instruction at this in-
stitution, but a special course of electric-
ity and its applications have been ar-
ranged for. According to their prospec-
tus: “It is believed that those who wish
to fit themselves for the intelligent manu-
facture of electrical apparatus and ma-
chinery, and for designing the same, or
for the installation and management of
electric light and power stations, for ex-
pert work in connection with telegraph
and ba pr ee service, etc,, will espec-
ially need the greater part of the train-
ing which the course in mechanical en-

HE WOULDN'T SUBSCRIBE.

——+———

BY MAX ADELER.

(qUUDGE.PITMAN was sitting in his
office reading up the facts in the
\ case of Saurman versus Jones, when
c she entered. She glided swiftly
through the door, seized a chair, placed
it close to the judge, and sat down. With
a seraphic smile she opened a prospectus,
handed it to him, and said:

“J want your name as a subscriber to

hat, judge, ‘Barnhurst’s Testimony of
the Ages,’ you know. Grand book!”

“Don’t want it, madam,” said the
judge.

“in this noble work, you observe, the
author gives a mass of ethnological, bio-
logical, paleontological, and geological
facts, such as are not found elsewhere in
any volume. Were you aware that the
cobra-di-capello has traces of legs? No?
Have you a cobra-di-capello anywhere in
the house, so I can show you? You have
none! Well, take Jonah in the whale.
How did Jonah breathe? You cannot
tell? Of course not.’ But Barnhurst tells.
Jonah must have found the whale’s lung,
punched it with his penknife, and
breathed through the hole. He could have
gotten breath enough, couldn’t he? Barn-
hurst says so, anyhow.”

“I don’t see how you get enough to
keep you going at such a rate,” said the
judge.

“Now, take Noah’s ark. Why did not
the water soak in through the nail-holes?
The ablest scientists have tackled that
problem, but it has baffled them. What
does Barnhurst say? He says the ark was
varnished; and he has discovered that
the Roman catacombs were originally ex-
cavated for railroad tunnels by Remus.
You would be surprised ! Barnhurst sheds
light on nearly everything. On page 44
he explains that the bottom of the ocean
leaks, and that the Yank-tse-kiang River
in China is fed from the water that per-

 
 
 

 

gineering affords. The course in electric-
ity is, therefore,, built upon this: the,
election is made at the beginning of the’
sophomore year, and a part of the practice
time is devoted to. electricity from that!
time until the end of the course, in addi- |
tion to physics and laboratory practice of
the junior and senior years, during
which a large share of the time of the;
students is devoted to the subject.”

The degree of B.S. is conferred upon
those who satisfactorily complete the
course, and the expenses at the institu-
tions are $75 a year. The graduates of the
Rose Polytechnic have been very success-
ful in securing work, At the last com-
mencement, over which Professor Oscar
Mendenhall presided, he was able to an-

every member of the graduating class.

A excellent course of eiectrical engineer-
ing bee within afew years been estab-
lished at. Ithaca, N. Y., in connection
with Cornell University... It is known as

nounce that places had been secured for |

colates through the globe from the Gulf
of Mexico. Shall I read it to you? Itis
amazing !”

“If you do, madam, I shall at ence
scream for help,” said the judge.

“Well, no matter. Let me ask you to
cast your eye on page 207. You will see
there that Barnhurst distinctly traces
the invention of flat-irons and griddles to
Zoroaster, and that he proves dysentery
to have first appeared in Siam, in the
third century after Moses. And how does
he account for Socrates being bald?”

“T haven’t the remotest idea,” said the

judge.

“Read the thirty-eighth chapter. Barn-
hurst says he lost his hair from having no
pockets, and persistently carrying his
handkerchief, and cork-screw, and lead
pencils, and things in his hat.”

“Barnhust lost his hair?”

“No; Socrates! You know he was very
bald. And Barnhurst devotes eight pages
to prove that the doctrine of the trans-

 

Sibley College, and is under the director-
ship of Dr. R. H. Thurston. An able
corps of assistants aid the director in
conducting the college, besides
students, have many. of the advantages
that come to them in consequence of its
forming a department of Cornell Univer-
sity. For some time there was an experi-
mental plant of electric lighting con-
nected with the university, when oppor-
tunities were given to students to become
acquainted with its exact workings.

A course in electrical engineering has
within a year or so been established at

under the direction of Professor Francis
B. Crocker. It is now in active opera-
tion, and. facilities for the successful
prosecution of studies in this subject are
now afforded to students at this institu-
tion, which is, perhaps, the foremost
technical school in this country. Also,
special advantages are to be had in New

ork City in the way of visiting electri-
cal factories, stations, and plants. The
course extends over two years, and stu-
dents studying for the degree of electrical
engineer are required to pass examina-
tions at the end of the course in the gen-
eral construction of boilers, engines, and
other machinery, and in the principles of
dynamics of engineering and thermo-
dynamics relating to the same.

There is also a course in electrical en-
gineering at the Stevens’ Institute of
Technology, at Hoboken, N: J., and in
1888 a special class of applied electricity
was founded. . The high reputation of

tricity, and his close relations with cer-
tain electrical corporations make it possi-
ble for the students of Stevens’ Institute
to obtain practical experience in works
that cannot be acquired elsewhere.

There may be, and doubtless are, other
institutions where courses in electrical
engineering are given, but from the fore-
going some idea of some of the places,
and, perhaps, the better schools can be

 

yoons 0, is a good book, and Professor
. S, Royce, o Harvard, has written

  

 

 

obtained,

which |

the School of Mines of Columbia College,

President Morton as an authority on elec-

migration of souls is sound. You will be
‘deeply interested in his arguments show-
ing the remarkable identity between Mar-
tin Van Buren and Belshazzar.”

“T don’t believe I should,”

“In his chapters on paleontology he _ be-
, comes almost poetic. I have cried like a
| child over his exposition of the nature of
'the marine and fluviatile deposits, and
'of the physical condition of the older

metamorphic strata.”

“The which?”

“The metamorphic strata; while I have
| known people to sit up all night en-
tranced with his theories about mam-
mifers, mollusks, articulates, radiates,
and the palacozoic rocks of Bohemia. So
you’ll subscribe for a copy, won’t you?”

“JT think not, madam.”

“Just one, Put your name down here.”

“Not to-day.”

“To-morrow, then?”

“No I don't want it.”

“Come now, there’s a darling,” and she
moved up closer to the judge.

“Did you address that language to me,
madam ?”

“Yes, you dear, darling old man, you
know you can’t refuse me!”

She was just making a movement to
place her hand on his shoulder, when he
dropped his law-book and _fled precipi-
tately through the door. When he re-
turned she was gone; but she had left a
copy of “Barnhurst’s Testimony of the
| Ages,” with a note saying she would call

next day for his signature. Many of the
| judge’s friends wondered why he sud-
denly left town for the Pacific coast last
summer. He was dodging Barnhurst’s
| canvasser.

 

———_~4 o_o

Tyr term count is not used in England
as a title of honor, but the wives of earls
are always addressed as countesses. The
title earl is of very great antiquity. If
Her Majesty addresses any commission
to an earl, she styles him her “trusty and

 

   

Taz

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—_¢————

PAPERS.—J. W. Keller, cor. Union and 22nd Sts., St.
Joseph, Mo., has volumes of weekly papers, libraries,
and monthly magazines, to exchange for other reading
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BOYS’ PAPERS.—A. C. Lanquist, 119 Coulter St., Chi-
cago,-1ll., has several volumes of boys'Ipapers, libraries,
and cigarette pictures to exchange for numbers.11 to 18
of Goop NEws or best offer.

CYCLOPEDIA.—George Jenison, Woonsocket, R. I.,
has a cyclopedia, one years’ subscription to a weekly
story paper, also one printing outfit, fountain pen, and
oe to exchange for a pair of ‘field glasses or best
offer.

CIGARETTE PICTURES.—Robert C. Houston, 172
Main St., Bridgeport, Conn., has fifteen hundred cig-
arette pictures to exchange for best offer.

PRINTING PRESS.—James Arthurs, 152 Queen St.,
East Toronto, Can., has one hand-inking printing
press, and one font of type, drawing instruments,
aes one magic lantern and slides, and $3
worth of ‘boys’ papers to exchange for a self-inking
press or best offer.

GOOD NEWS.—Max Ba Room 68,79 Dearborn St.,
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ICE SKATES.—Edward Weakley, 518 West Second St.,
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foot-ball in good condition or best offer.

CAMERA.—J. S. Brown, 800 South Delaware ayve.,
Philadelphia, Pa., has a new camera 4x5 with tripod,
ruby lantern, and two plate holders, cost $20, to ex-
change for a typewriter in good working order. Write
before sending.

BOOKS.—Walter W. Gillman, 2 Chilton St., Ply-
mouth Mass., has two books to exchange for the first
eighteen papers of Vol. Il Goop News.

BOOKS.—Sam Spaeth, Jr., 1019 Orchard, 'St., New-
port. Ky., has cloth-bound books, and Goop NEws
ibraries to exchange for juvenile papers or magazines.

GOOD NEWS.—Lloyd McLean, 41 Salisbury ave.,
Toronto, Ont., has Goop NrEws to date and several
novels to exchange for foreign stamps or cigarette
cards. All letters answered.

FOREIGN STAMPS.—William E. Moyer, Tremont,
Pa., has foreign stamps to exchange for actress’ photos,
and one photographic outtit for best offer.

NOVELS.—Louis H. Myers, Wilmington, N. C., has
five, ten, and twenty-five cent novels to exchange for
same.

BOOKS.—V. Berens, 318 North Franklin St., Chicago,
Til., has two detective stories, two books of magic, one
songster, and two Goop Nrws libraries for best offer.

READING MATTER.—A. J. Peterson, P. O. Box 44
Wataga, IIL, has reading matter, books songs, and
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BOOK OF MAGIC.—Frank A. Turner, 29 South Jef-
ferson St., Battle Creek, Mich., has a book on magic
and foreign stamps for best offer of foreign coins. .

STORY PAPERS.—Joseph Cumiskey, 40 Bristol St.,
Cambridgeport, Mass., has two dollars worth of story
papers and novels to exchange for best offer.

SONGS.—A. G. Smith, ‘Richmond, Ill, wants to ex-
change 500 of the latest popular songs for a good offer
of stamps.

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BOUND BOOK.—Lindley Kicks, Tenafly, N. J. has
emi book to exchange for Goop News from No. 1 to
1

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PRINTING PRESS.—Charles T, Ingham, P. {O. Box
220, Houtzdale, Pa., has a 2x 3% printing press with
type, 150 blank cards, books of useful information, °
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4x5 camera with complete outfit.

CIGARETTE PICTURES.—A. M. Holshouser, P. O.
Box 206, Orlando, Fla., has collections of Duke's cigar-
ette pictures, copies of GooD News in good condition,
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BOYS’ PAPERS.—Guy Stewart, St. Joseph, Mich.,
has boys’ papers, libraries, cigarette pictures, and for-
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change for best offer.

BOUND BOOKS.—E. D. Wilson, 22 West Seneca St.,
Buffalo, N. Y., will exchange two bound books, for
tickets out of Leidersdorf’s Red Clover Tobacco. Must
have the letter (V) in the tickets or will not accept.

ALL’ young lady and gentleman readers of Goop
News, are cordially invited to become members of the
Pearl Corresponding Club. Address Edward B. Heine-
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CaRL A. SCHANABEL, 507 Greenwich St., San Francisco,
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culars.

THE Specia] Philatic Society of Burlington, Kans.,
as been reorganized and is re

h ady.to receive hew mem>

 

| weall-belqved cousin,”
GooDp

NEWS.

 

EKLY.
W. B. Lawson, Editor.

NEW YORK, MARCA 21, 1891.

Terms to Mail Subscribers:
(PosTaGE FREE.)
8months - - - - - 65c. | 1 copy, two years - $4.00
4 jnonehe = 2-2 2 = 85e. The Yew York Weekly and
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2 copies, one year- - 4.00

How vo SEND Money.—We will be responsible for
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transit unless sent in one‘of the above ways.

To CLuB RatsERs.—We are at all times read
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Special inducements made for large clubs.

all letters shonld be addressed to

STREET & SMITH'’sS GOOD NEWS,
P. 0. Box 2734, 29 & 31 Rose Street, N.Y.

ana

Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line.

 

Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be
obtained from your Newsdealers. If they do not
have them please send direct to this office and we

_ will supply them by mail on receipt of price.

It is assumed that contributions unaccompanied
with stamped envelopes to guarantee their return
if unused, are not regarded by their writers as
worth recovering. ‘Good News” cannot under-
take to send back such manuscripts,

Contents of this Number,
“Slaves of the Circus,” by Walter Morris.
“Captain Carey,” by Lieutenant Lionel

Lonnsberry.
“Frank and Fearless,” by Horatio Alger,

Jr.

‘Lieutenant COarey’s Luck,” by Lieut.
Lionel Lounsberry.

“White-Horse Fred,” by Harry Castlemon.

“Nothing but a Boy,” by Oliver Optic.

“Peter Potter,” by Jack.”

ras Deeds of Boys,” by Nathan D.

rner.

“Short Talks With the Boys,” by Arthur
Sewall.

“He Wouldn’t Subscribe,” by Max Adeler.
‘Interesting Facts,” by John R. Coryell.
And the usual interesting departments,

—_—___- ee —___

Tenth ad Last Ise in Letter “B Contest

This is the last issue of Goop News bear-

ing on the LETTER ‘‘z” CONTEST, and the re-
sult can now be found by counting the first
column of the second page of this number
and adding to it the nine previous issues,
dated January 17, 24, 31, February 7, 14, 21,
28, March 7, 14. We will announce the
official count next week, and make it so clear
and accurate that there cannot be any appeal
from it. We will also make an effort to an-
nounce the names and addresses of the win-
ners in our next issue.
It is impossible that any of the guesses
should result in a tie, as all postmasters are
obliged by law, to stamp on the envelope
when received, the name of the post-office,
giving date and hour.

Examine number ten of Goop News for
the names and addresses of the winners of
our LETTER “a” conTEsT last summer. It
will give you an idea of the way the prizes
are awarded.

0

Amone the regular contributors of Goop
_ News will be found the names of the follow-

ing well-known and popular authors:

 

-—- Horatio Alger, Jr., Jas. Otis, Edward 8.

_ Ellis, Lieut. Lounsberry, Max Adeler,
Wm. H. Thomes, Lieut. Jas. K. Orton,

Walter Morris, W. B. Lawson, Oliver

Optic, John R. Coryell, Harry Castle-
-mon, and M. Quad.

r : > 0 o—___—

Send us the names of your friends who have

not seen Goop Nuws, and we will send them a

sample copy free

 

 

Be TRA.

The publishers of Good News announce
another literary feast for the month of
March. Three more new stories—
James Otis, Edward S. Ellis,
and M. Quad, are the
authors.

Last month when we published four new
stories, our readers were so agreeably sur-
prised, and complimented us so highly, that
we have concluded to give them another
treat,

Mr. James Otis and Mr. Edward S. Ellis
are busily engaged in: writing stories for
Good News on subjects near to the hearts of
our young readers. Mr. M. Quad, with his
thrilling and interesting story of “Siberia,”
will also appear in a few weeks, We will
only hint about the stories in this issue, by
announcing the titles—‘'Teddy’s Venture;
or, The Adventures of a Country Boy at a
Country Fair,” by James Otis. ‘Among
the Eskimos; or, Adventures Under the
Artic Circle,” by Edward 8. Ellis. ‘Sen.
tenced to Siberia,” by M. Quad.

FULL PARTICULARS NEXT WEEK.

J. E. Kraft

Receives Good News Humane Soeiety
Gold Medal,

On August 15, 1890, J. E. Kraft, of Quit-
man, Mo., was working near the river which
runs through this pretty town, when he
heard a call for help from some boys who
were in bathing. e@ was some distance
from the boys when he first heard the cry,

| but he immediately dropped his work and

ran with all his speed to the rescue. He
reached the drowning boy, just in time, as he
had gone down for the last time. Thomas
Bains is the name of the rescued boy. For
his noble conduct on this occasion, we take
pleasure in presenting him with our gold
medal, and hope he will always wear it to
show others that true heroism is not unre.
warded.

STATE OF MISSOURI, 8.8
County OF NopAWAY.f “**

I, Willlam L, Holt, Notary Public within and for
the County of Nodaway, and State of Missouri,
before me personally appeared J. E. Kraft, who is
known to be the person whose name is subscribed
to this instrument, and that he has sworn that the
Statements herein contained are true to the best
of his knowledge and belief.

Subscribed and sworn 'o before me, this 6th day
of February, 1891. William L, Holt, Notary Public.
woe 0. M. Smith, G. W. Palmer, Dr. F,

. Davis,

Applause.

SHELBYVILLE, Ky,
Srreet & Suiru, New York.

Dear Sirs: 1 received your book premiums,
and was perfectly delighted with them. I have
been taking Goop News since its first number, and
1 think there is no better paper published for young
pe le than Goop News. Your Christmas number

think, is perfectly superb. I will close, wishing
you success, our ever faithful friend,

BakER BLUMER,

HERMITAGE. Mo,
Messrs. Streer & SMITH:

Dear Sirs: Allow me to congratulate you upon
the grand success you have achieved as publishers
of Goop News. You are furnishing readers with
the best story paper published. There is not a
story published in Goop Ngws that will not benefit
some boy or girl in the future. That it 1s in-
creasing in value and circulation isevident, With
such writers as Optic, Alger, Castelmon, Lawson,
Lounsberry, Otis, and others, Goop News is bound
to win, and [I hope every reader will speak a
good word and ever be a true and ardent sup-
pees of the best paper published, and may Goop

Ews be the watchword for all, is the wish of a
faithful subscriber. WALTER A. COON,

BROOKLYN, N. Y.
Messrs. Streer & SMITH:

Gentlemen: I have taken your paper, Goop
News, since the first number, and I think it is one
of the best papers that a ever published for five
cents, Ihave read a good many story papers, but
I must say that none of them can equal Goop
News. It has interesting stories an@ thrilling ad-
ventures, puzzles, exchange column, book pre-
miums, an ge

When the first premium-prize came out I saved
the coupons from number one up to number ten;
then I lost them, but I made up my mind that
when the second book premium came out I would
put them in a safe place. I did so, and received
from you three nice sfory-books,

I did not quite understand your letter ‘‘A” con-
test until it was nearly ended. But the letter
“K” guessing contest I am prepared for it.

Your Christmas number was splendid. 1 have
not seen a five cent paper like it yet.

Hoping that Goop News will have subscribers in
every town and city in the Union, I remain,

E A constant reader,
, i WILLIAM

a.

 

INTERESTING FACTS,

BY JOHN R. CORYELL,

How the World Was Made.

HERE are theories on the subject of
the origin and formation of this
world of ours, but real knowledge
is lacking. A very pretty theory

says that originally all the universe was
one gaseous mass, spinning in space like
a teetotum and darting in the direction
of nowhere with the speed of thought.

As this mass spun, it threw off parts
which had become loosened, and these
parts not only kept on spinning, but, at-
tracted by the parent mass, circled around
it. Each pact in its turn threw off smaller
pieces, and thus in the end we have our
great system of whirling worlds. The
theory goes on that in the course of ages
the gaseous matter condensed and became
a fiery mass. This in turn cooled on the
outside, and there you have your world
all in order to live on,

There theory stops and knowledge be-
gins. The geologist comes along and says:
“I do not know where it came from, or
whether it is hot or cold inside, but I do
know what its crust is made of, for I can
see it, and though I do not know what
the original crust was, I know how it
was arranged in its present condition, for
I can see the process still going on—that
is to say, nature never rests, but goes on
forever tearing down and build ng up.
The surface of the earth changes every
moment,”

We look over the earth ‘and find its
face the same as our fathers and grand-
fathers saw it. It has not changed, we
say, in all that long time; but we forget
that three human generations are but a
moment in the great life of time, and we
do not see that nature is not a blusterer,
but works silently and unobtrusively for
the most part.

True, an earthquake will now and then
throw up or swallow an island; but that
island is, after all, no more on the face
of the earth than a tiny pimple on your
own face. To us, however, the noisy
earthquake and bilious volcano are might
forces, and we are in the habit of think-
ing that great changes, such as scientific
men tell us have taken place, must have
been produced by these or smiliar agents.
A glimpse at the truth should teach us
retest and even point out to us the cor-
rect policy for a useful life.

Mountains are built and oceans are
moved by microscopic forces, The island
of Java may have sprung up in a day, but
this great continent was ages in forming.

Long, long ago what is now dry land
was then the bed of an Atlantic or of a
Pacific Ocean, and ages hence a continent
will stand where the Atlantic now in,
and where we ‘now walk will be given
over to the deep sea-fishes.

And what are the silent agencies that
are doing this stupendous work? Some
of them are the rays of the sun, the rain-
drop, the ee ae and the little
laughing brooklet. It would be a long
story to tell how, day by day, these forces
are doing their work, but one of the
most important and also most easily seen
ways is this: The ray of sunshine, the
drop of water, and the passing breeze
make dust of the hardest rock, the little
brooklet carries the dust to the river
and the river takes it to the ocean, and
there it drops down, down at the rate of
about an inch an hour until it reaches the
bottom. There it accumulates until some
day the mass is so heavy that the crust of
the earth is subjected to an uneven pres-
sure, and acts as a rubber ball will
when pressed by the thumb. It rises in
one place to equalize the pressure in some
other place, and so gradually and with-
out any great disturbance the ocean gives
way and a new continent appears.

Among other tiny agents engaged in the
stupendous work of world-building and
world-saving are two with which every

man, woman, and child is familiar under

one name or another. But while making
all sorts of use of the little things, very
few recognize their real worth. These
agents are called infusoria and rhizopods,
and are microscopic vegetable and animal
forms of life. The gigantic whalebone, or
baleen, whale feeds almost exclusivel
upon these tiny forms of life, whic
swarm in myriads in the waters of the
ocean.

Thousands of millions are hourly de-
stroyed by the whales, but they are not
missed, and those that remain are suffi-
cient for the great work they have to do.
They gather from the waters all the pow-
dered limestone which the rivers have
carried out to sea. They make shells for
themselves, die, and sink to the bottom,
and there, massing together, make that
solid wall of limestone so necessary ig
the well-heing of the globe. The chalk
cliffs of England and elsewhere are noth-
ing but the shells of these tiny forms.

ft is not a little curious to note the uses
to which man has put the remains of his
little benefactors, In Egypt we find that

 

the stones of which the great pyramids
are constructed are made of them, In
Paris long, monotonous rows of houses
are built of them. Everywhere lime is
made of them. In the form of flint the
are put to many uses; in the form of ‘sili-
con, silver is polished with them. _Re-
duced to powder, they are added to paper
and cotton goods to give dishonest °.
weight, tand some very villainous men
put them in cheap candy. In California,
where they are found in large quantities
in a peculiar form, they are used asa
basis for soap,

These are only a few of the vulgar uses
to which are put the remains of one
agent, whose aggregate life-work is of
such magnitude that it is safe to say that
the world would suffer incalculable in-
jury were it to be stopped and nothing
substituted in its place. One of the
morals to be drawn from its history is
this, that those of ts who make no noise >
in the world, but plod on in an humble

aye doing the work before us, are quite
as im

portant in the whole result as the
man who runs the course of life amid the
plaudits of his fellows. Indeed, as be- |
tween the whale and the rhizopod, the
latter is the greater in the true sense,

Ticklets.

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER.
eo

Not a Composer,
Winkle—'I understand that the lady next to
you is a fine musician,”
Binkle—“‘Eh ?”
Winkle—'They say she composes.”
Binkle—"Great Cesar; no! she discomposes —
everybody in the flat.”

Not Troubled.

Trate Tenant—“I asked you when I rented this
a if you had ever been troubled by chickeD |

hieves, ‘and you said ‘no.’ Every one of my

chickens was stolen last night, andI am told that

-

the neighborhood has been infested with chicken —

thieves for years.”
Suburban Agent—“T never keep chickens.”

Yankee Ingenuity.

Spindle—“Why do you put such horribly pee ,

fumed stuff on your hair? It’s enough to kn
any one over.”
rindle—‘‘To keep from catching cold.”

“Hub! What good does that stuff do?”

“It has become the ar now for gentlemen
remove their hats in al
when there happen to be ladies present;
when I take off mine they always beg me to put
on again so as not to take cold,

“Hum! How much is it a bottle”

A Hard Job. ;
Miss De Plain—‘‘You promised to paint
trait for $500, but you have charged anan apt ‘
Great Artist—“You forget, madam, that after I
fixed the price for the portrait you added that you —
wished it idealized.”
A Breath of Fresh Air. a
Chicago Child (a few years hence)—“Ma, mayn’t

I take a little walk in the suburbs ?”
Mother (to nurse)—“Jane! dress little Nellie aa

to Sica
sorts Of draughty places
it

a suburban walk. The Oklahoma air-ship leave? —

in an hour.”

Same Old Kind,
Mrs. Brickrow—*What kind of a girl have you
now, Mrs. Bronston ?”
Mrs. Bronston (wearily)—‘‘Female.”
Cause for Thanks.

Mrs. Slimdiet—“Have you lost your appetite, —
Mr. De Boarder ?” ;
De Boarder—‘‘Yes, thank Heaven.” y

The Law’s Majesty.

Citizen—“I see you are putting your electric
poles blew down {2

wires underground at last.”
Superintendent—‘*Yes; the

every storm, and it cost us so much tore ;

them every time that we concluded we might 2

hig put the wires underground acco

aw,

A Woman of Business.
Husband—‘Did you write to your aunt about

that a visit 2”

Wite—'‘No, I telegraphed.”
“Telegraphed ?” ,
“Yes, and I told the operators to be sure and ge

it off this week because it was important.” —

Agreeable.

Boston Hostess—‘‘How would you enjoy spene. ’

ug we evening at our Burns Club,
an
Western Guest—‘‘First rate.
to a fire company myself,”
~ No Use For It. :
Shar r—“How did that soap-sample dodg¢
work ? ; S
fale oar work at all.”
“Eh? Did you do as I said—leave a cake a
amination at every house, then go around ob
week and demand payment for every cake W
had been wet?”
oe Every cake was handed back to
esh as new.’ ¥
“Btrange! What street did you select for the,
‘ame
x “Blank street.”
“Humph! No wonder it failed.
chuck- of anarchists,”

Good Cause for Suspicion.

that steak’s . Best ever I see, ee
waiter, y'r cook ought to be careful about k
things clean.”
Waiter—‘‘He fs very careful, sir.”
“He is, eh? Look at them dark
that steak. That never was cooked
tryin’ pan, 1 know.”

‘ ’ be i
Westerner (in New York restart eTa :

¥

.

I used to pelons

for eX

me 93 —

That street 3

streaks Ao

 
nee

(This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.]
\( MIT ff \T]
LEILA

| UN

OR

THE ROYAL AMPHITHEATRE.

een nomen

By WALTER MORRIS.
Author of «Joe the Call-Boy,” “The Clown’s Pro-
lege,” “Kirk Sheldon’s Mine,” etc.

it
ty phAvEs OF THE CIRCUS” was commenced last week.
Rumbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

cence iim

CHAPTER III,

 

THE PLOT.

EAL was in the ring doing his
share of holding banners for
Mademoiselle Jeanette to leap

ladias. OVE when the confusion in the

lmyctning tent caused those nearest. the

Mypence to rush out, and he followed

jy v.48 the crowd from the grounds came

eoth parties stopping very suddenly
| »°M the reason for the uproar was seen.
€ cages containing the monkeys, the

Yenas, and two black bears were all one,

e former occupants were busily en-

od in making mischief. ;

la’ O14 baboon, together witha few

hoc’ followers, had taken advantage of

Of theportunity to form the acquaintance

no.’ elephants, which excited the

aug WPosite side of the tent,
Ushi § companions were
Midas © and fro in the
ly me confusion, over-turn-
Of ® ponies, crushing the
How cst wares in the glass-
ly . °T 8 collection, or fleeing
the nd haste from such of
to, Phants as had broken
Te
tae] the very center of the
ting Ure the bears were sit-
ie their haunches ready
totn Otect themselves; but
og Nothing toward adding
Now ‘ ¢onfusion which was
Ne. wn deafening.
tm .,.caring that some
tayin Might come to Beauty
tay 18 the melee, ran toward
Eeibf ee Se oe
| danger, and Mike
ged, intent only on pro-
te ene the boy, for whom
ition, wet the warmest
iy Temainder of the com-
. iy vanced more or less
let’, elephant trainers at-
i their huge charges
tem Steel hooks to drive
X Sha ack where they could
te ve led, and the animal
Mit . Started for the hyenas
advent Weapons that were most
fl, ale: but several moments
Nelleg before the tumult could
No .
: W and then a monkey would be seized
h oo ephant’s trunk, and the spec-
We Shhh hear a shrill squeak of ter-
Toy h he long-tailed missile was flung
s the air to strike harmlessly on
: Of the tent, or be dashed against
8
ty tran wmels, wild with fear, ran to and
ie tor ling on everything in their way,
ty, eee nan one of the lookers-on re-
», So €rious injury in this manner.
neq * villains belonging to the town
thi €m cages, an’ if I had ’em
ave peck of my two hands they’d
Ij,to Bet reath enough left in their bod-
tho: Smatterin’ of what they most
ag peat was fun,” Mike said, ex-
ps he helped Neal lower the cover-
MXited pger’s den that she might not
aig rem,)- the scene of destruction.
ie Onver ts caused Neal to remember
te flash wf°n he had overheard, and
ty Vhat on of light came the knowledge
by pVer Me the tumult was intended
@naj; bere was no time to enter into
Ug Ons ; every moment might be
» And since Beauty was now shut
& view of the combatants, he
aoe under the canvas, shout-
same instant:
iigon can? 1been done so the ticket
i” Qn be robbed! Come quick,
et
Hogfteets ane the Irishman was at the
a
Noe to Pe seen that they were none too
News. © “vent the plot from being a

 

 

be

 

tly
hte, Very lounger on the grounds
®ted the tent whem the tumult

 

— —_ CE

GOOD NEWS.

was first heard, and the treasurer, de-
serted by his comrades, stood near the
wagon trying to defend himself against
an attack which was being made by two
whose faces were concealed with coverings
of black cloth.

“It’s Sam!” Neal cried, as he ran for-
ward swiftly; but Mike did not hear the
words.

Pausing for an instant, the Irishman
shouted at the full strength of his lungs
that name which has ever been the rally-
ing cry of circus employees:

“Rube! Rube!” he yelled, and, knowing
that every canvasman would respond to
this signal of danger, he continued on at
his best pace.

Owing to the delay Neal arrived at the
wagon slightly in advance, and, think-
ing of nothing save the desire to aid the
hard pressed treasurer, grappled with
the nearest assailant.

Unarmed, he was no match for the des-
perate men, and before Mike could reach
the spot one of the would-be thieves
struck him such a blow on the head as
felled him to the earth insensible.

After this both the scoundrels started
at full speed up the road, for the em.
ployees of the Royal Amphitheater were

 

 

Neal was dimly conscious that he ought
to make known what he had heard Sim
Thomas say, in order that steps might be
taken to guard against a second attempt
at robbery; but he wanted to confide in
Mike first, and concluded to wait until
the sword-swallower should be at liberty.

Not once during the remainder of the
afternoon was “Signor Fausta” idle, and
when the performance came to an end he
hurriedly made his toilet to meet the
proprietor, who had requested several of
the company to consult with him regard-
ing the attack on the treasurer,

“I’m going to supper now,” Mrs, Wil-
son said, when Neal had so far recovered
as to be able to sit up without feeling
dizzy. “Mr. Howe don’t want June to
leave the grounds while we are in this
town for fear some one will persuade her
to desert us, and you must look out for
her. Don’t let Thomases say anything
disagreeable. Mademoiselle Sienatie is
terribly angry because the child has been
taken on, and I’m afraid the poor little
thing’s life won’t be a very happy one.”

“I don’t think I could prevent either
Mr. Thomas or his wife from saying what
they pleased; but, perhaps, she can be
kept out of their way,” Neal muttered, as

 

 

S, and when the two emerged |

  

ine brutes to such an extent that & ma
Wit oP striking right and left 2S ek “sey

their trunks, trumpeting 44-4 NB
ee ly, and making viclons Ls Ags AN
hack at everything within CF yr: 6 j ON
jhe hyenas had made an < a se KG
| 3 ck upon a small camel on SE

3 HS

Se)

  
  
  

 
  
   
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
   

gasneriiig so - Mrs. Wilson
rapidly that left the tent.
to delay “There’]l
longer be time

 
   
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
    
   
 
  

   

 

   

of canvasmen

had been detailed as guards, there was
nothing to detain the acting members of
the company, and they went back to as-
sist in quieting the animals.

Mike carried Neal into the property
tent, and, hurriedly explaining: what had
happened, left him with Mrs. Wilson. |

une was near at hand to aid the mis-
tress of the wardrobe, and in afew mo-

} ments Neal opened his eyes, as he asked

eagerly:

“ Di
wagon?” :

“Not a bit of it; both ran away imme-
diately after striking you,” was the reply
from the ring-master, who entered at
this moment. “Unquestionably the ani-
mals were set loose to create confusion
until the job could be accomplished ; but
everything has been straightened out
now, and we are going on with the show.
One hyena and four monkeys have been
killed: but that was the only damage
done. I reckon your head will ache pretty
hard, Neal, so you needn’t come into the
ring again this afternoon.” :

“T shall take care of you,” June said, as
she seated herself by the boy’s side when
Mr. Wilson left the tent. “ We'll have
such a good time talking that you’ll for-

they succeed in. robbing the

 

get the headache,”

 

, ey Yr. Ahn .
would BM, eT eee

make cap- hn: y af Spay Pea = enough
ture posi- CA OY ps this even-
tive. ing to tell
Whenacer- MIKE RAISED THE INANIMATE BODY OF NEAL, AND JUNE Mike what I

tain number STOOD, SPEECHLESS WITH FEAR. heard.” :
is

| eae Miss Foss came in to bid June good-

y, and after a very hurried parting,
the girl said to Neal:

“She acts as if she was glad to get rid
of me. Do you suppose I can learn to
ride?”

“Of course,” he replied, confidently, and
for the next ten minutes he was forced to
listen to her praises of his performance
with Beauty, as she had been the most
attentive spectator at the time of his act.

“What I do isn’t worth talking about,”
Neal said, at the first opportunity.
“You're to stay with me tii Mrs. Wil-
son comes back, so let’s go over to the
side-show.”

June was perfectly willing to go any-
where, and was plunged into a fever
of excitement a few moments later on
being introduced to a veritable dwarf.

Commodore Tiny was the name under
which this diminutive specimen of hu-
manity appeared before the public, and
by the time he finished telling June about
himself she believed he was a remarkable
man in many other ways than because of
his stature. se

“When you begin the riding lessons let
me give you a few valuable hints,” he
said, as Neal insisted on going, and June

 

 

promised to come to him for advice,

7T29

It was seven o’clock before Mrs. Wil-
son returned, and then, without thinking
of supper, Neal went in search of “Signor
Fausta.”

Never before had the sword-swallower
remained away from the tent so long.
Not until nearly all were ready for the
grand entree did Mike return, and, at the
first opportunity, Neal whispered:

“T must have a chance to tell you some-
thing.”

“Faith an’ I kin listin to yez now,”
Mike replied, carelessly.

“But this is very important, andI want
to be where no one can hear us,”

“I’m thinkin’ there’ll be small chance
of tellin’ sacrets this night,” the Irish-
man said, with a laugh; “but I’m after
ridin’ wid an ould frind on the first bag-
gage wagon that laves the grounds. Yez
kin sit be me side, an’ git rid of what’s
troublin’ yer head.”

The signal for the cavalcade to move
on was given, and Neal had no opportu-
nity to reply, neither was it possible to
speak privately with Mike during the
entire performance.

“Tt’ll be all right now,” he said to him-
self, as he saw June snugly ensconced in
the ladies’ carriage by Mrs. Wilson’s
side, and then ran back to the main en-
trance where the first baggage wagon was
on the point of departure.

“Hold on, Mike, while I tell you some-
thing,” he shouted.

“Come up. here betwixt us, lad, an’
yez'll have a foine chance for spinnin’
yarns,”

Neal would have preferred to be
alone with Mike; but it was too

late to argue the matter, and
he was in a hurry to reveal
the secret that it might be
acted upon before all the
teams left the ground.

“Wait till we’re out of
town a bit, an’ thin yez kin
talk to yer heart’s contint,”
the Irishman said, as_ the
A boy clambered up on the lofty
U4 perch,

“But Mike, this is some-
thing serious, and——”

The driver cracked his long
whip; the horses sprang for-
4 ward, and for several mo-
i ments Neal was forced to
| hold his peace, because the
wegon rolled to and fro over
the rough ground like a ship
in a storm, necessitating very
clever management on his

art to prevent being thrown

rom the seat.

When the highway was
reached, however, and it be-
came possible to speak, his
Ail lips were sealed for another

i moment by the sight of Sim
i Thomas and his friend, who
“4 tood near the road-side, as if
watching for some one or
something.

“T wonder is Thomas going
4 to leave us here?” the driver

asked, and Neal prevented
Mike from answering by say-
ing hurriedly:

“We mustn’t ride any
further, Mike. Those men—”
The sentence was not finished,

for just at that moment a sud-
den glare of light came as if from
the very earth. The horses reared
for. an instant, and then leaping aside,
swung the heavy wagon around so quickly
that before Neal knew what ehad hap-
pened he was thrown to the ground, with
fragments of wood, trunks, and the gen-
eral litter of the baggage piled above him.

CHAPTER IV.
NEAL’S NURSES.

 

 

 
 
  
  

r*HE accident had occurred hardly
Ye more than three hundred yards
& \. from the tenting grounds, and, asa

SP matter of course, a crowd gathered
almost immediately.

Mike had assured his own safety by
leaping from the box with an agility
which might have been expected from 4
contortionist, and the driver, who had a
firm hold on the reins, was pulled clear
of the wreck, consequently Neal was the
only one injured.

In the excitement of the moment no-
body thought of the boy, and the first
question on the lips of all was, what had
frightened the horses.

The natural inference was that the
overturning of the wagon had been caused
by some mischievous persons, and the
employees of the circus were greatly ex-
cited.

The matter was quickly explained. The
owner of one of the booths attempted. to
re-light a gasoline-lamp which kad been
overturned, allowing a quantity of fluid
to escape, and when the flame of the
match came in contact with this a sud-
den glare was the result.

Having proved to his own satisfaction
that the upsetting of the wagon was the
result of an accident, Mike thought of

 
730

the boy, and immediately gave the
alarm, by shouting:

“Day hould here all of yez! Neal must
be beneath the baggage!” and as twenty
pairs of willing hands began overhauling
the wreck, a faint moan was heard.

Following directly behind the wagon
was the carriage containing the female
attaches of the circus, and, as a matter of
course, it was necessary this should come
to a halt until the litter had been cleared
away.

Mrs. Wilson and Mademoiselle Jeanette
were so accustomed to such accidents that
they remained quietly inside; but June
clambered down to learn the cause of the
sudden stoppage.

The first person she saw was Mike, who
lifted and tugged at the splintered wagon
with an energy born of the fact that the
one member of the company, whom he
held in especial esteem was injured—per-
haps dead.

“What’s the matter? Has anything
serious happened?” June cried, and the
Irishman, without ceasing work for an
instant, replied hoarsely :

“It’s the lad Neal who’s beneath this
stuff, and if any harm has befell him it’ ll
go hard wid the crazy ould lunatic what
set fire to the ile.”

Trembling with excitement and appre-
hension, June joined in the labor, and
fully five minutes elapsed before the frag-
ments could be removed sufficiently to
disclose the boy, who lay as if dead.

Mike raised the inanimate body in his
arms; some of the bystanders ran for a
doctor, and June stood speechless with
fear, gazing at the blood-stained fingers
which hung over the Irishman’s shoul-

der.

“He can’t be killed,” the driver said,
“for he was lying beside one of the big
trunks, and that must have kept the other
stuff away from him.”

At the edge of the road, near the booth,
stood a pail partly filled with water, and
before the man ceased speaking June
darted out through the crowd, returning
with it, as she said to the Irishman:

“Put some on his face, and see if you
can’t rouse him up.”

“Faith, child, an’ it takes a woman to
do the thinkin’, even if she’s only a girl,”
Mike replied, quickly, as he lowered the
unconscious boy to the ground, and began
dashing the water on his face, asif he
was washing one of the chariots.

Under this heroic treatment Neal re-
covered rapidly, and, opening his eyes,
asked faintly:

“What happened? Did Sim Thomas do
anything?”

he ex-hostler was standing near Mike
and, on hearing this question, looked
around furtively, as he asked:

“What do you mean by that? How
could I do anything?”

“Sure it was only an accident, lad,” the
Irishman replied. “An ould fool put a
lighted match to a lot of gasoline, an’ by
that same token it would sarve him
right, if he instid of you had been under
the wagon.”

Neal closed his eyes again, and June
bathed his face until the doctor arrived.

All the bystanders, save June and
Mike, drew back while the medical gen-
tleman made the examination, and when
it was concluded the two heard his report
with a sigh of relief. ,

“I do not think there are any internal
injuries,” he said. “The boy was probably
stunned by the fall, and will be chipper
as a sparrow by to-morrow morning, ar-
wipe little stiffness of the joints.’

en the doctor fastened strips of ad-
-hesive plaster over the flesh wounds,
until Neal looked very much like a
iece of crockery-ware mended by an un-
skillful*workman.

Before this was done, the proprietor of
the Royal Amphitheater arrived, and, in-
asmuch as business had been remarkably
good in Norwich, he could afford to be
very solicitous regarding one who was a
useful member of the company.

It was sufficient for the corpulent gen-
tleman to know that his employe would
not be an invalid on his hands, and he
immediately turned his attention to what,
in his opinion, was the more serious por.
tion of the accident, for the splintering
of the wagon presented a certain amount
of money to be expended.

Mike explained the cause of the cap-
sizal, and but one glance was needed to
show that this particular wagon would be
of no further service to the circus, there
fore Mr. Howe gave the necessary orders
for the transfer of baggage to the teams
which were drawn up in the rear.

By the time the physician had finished
his work, and recommended that the boy
be placed in the easiest riding convey-
ance, Mike was ready to carry him to the
vehicle occupied by Mrs. ilson and
Mademoiselle Jeanette.

While the ring-master’s wife and June
were making up a bed on the floor of the
carriage in order that Neal might lie at
full length, Commodore Tiny arrived.
He was fairly bristling with importance,
and had he been a giant could not have
displayed greater impatience, because the

GOooD

crowd of spectators did not give way more
readily at his approach.

The little man clambered upon the
steps, and from there to the seat of the
carriage, where he stood issuing orders
regarding the arrangement of the cush-
ions.

“Sure an’ we got along well enough
before yez come,” the Irishman said.

“Do as I bid you,” the dwarf cried, in a
shrill tone, as he stamped his tiny foot.
“I’ve had very much experience in simi-
lar affairs, and if I was not of such value
as a living curiosiy, I would be a physi-
cian.”

“An’ a foine fist ye’d make av it,”
Mike replied, with a laugh. “Ye’d nade
a stip-ladder to get at a baby’s pulse,
an’ a pill would serve yez for a foot-ball.”

If the Irishman intended to arouse the
ire of the dwart by these remarks, he was
disappointed. The little man considered
them a compliment rather than other-
wise, and a look of satisfaction spread
over his face.

“T shall remain with the boy until the
morning,” he said, in a lofty tone,
“therefore you need not stay any longer.”

The Irishman looked up quickly as if
believing there was good cause for
offense; but the pomposity of the commo-
dore so excited his mirth that there was
no room in his heart for anger.

“All right, me little man,” he said,
laughingly, “an’ if yez wud loike to look
at yer patient's face, Miss June will lift
ye up till it’s possible to see over his

nose.”

Just then Neal raised his head suffi-
ciently to whisper in Mike’s ear:

“I believe Sim Thomas was one of the
men who tried to rob the ticket wagon.
I heard him talking with a stranger this
afternoon. Look out for him; he may
make another attempt to-night.”

Mike gazed at Mrs. Thomas for an in-
stant, and then replied in a low tone:

“T’ll attind to it, lad.”

By this time the wreck of the baggage
wagon had been cleared away, an the
driver of the ladies’ carriage was impa-
tiently awaiting the signal to continue
the journey.

“When you’re through there send the
team ahead,” Mr. Howe shouted, and Mike
replied, by calling to the driver:

Go on me, jewel! Move aisy, for the
boy don’t nade joltin’ this night.”

The horses were started, and one after
another the heavy teams passed on, with
the ticket wagon bringing up the .rear of
the first detachment, until once more the
road was clear.

mained with the curious ones who were
watching the workmen at the wreck;
but when the last vehicle passed the ex-
hostler attempted to make his way
Phrowah the crowd in the rear of the
travelers.

In doing this he was literall forced to
age against the proprietor, who said as

e saw his former hostler:

“Here, Sim, I want you to bring these
horses on to the next town. You can lead
them behind one of the canvas- wagons.”

Mr. Thomas did not appear very well
pues with this opportunity to earn an

onest penny; but he could make no ex-
cuse without arousing suspicions in case
any further accident befell the ticket
wagon, and he said in a sullen tone:

“Do you expect I can handle four horses
alone in the night?”

“Pick up somebody to help, an’ I’ll pay
a fair price for the work.”

Sim motioned his friend to approach,
and as the two took charge of the horses,
Mr. Howe went back to the ‘tenting
ground.

“Ye’ll do no mischief this night,” Mike
muttered to himself, and then leaping on
the nearest wagon the interrupted jour-
ney was continued.

uring the hours of darkness whenever
the horses were stopped for water, or a
breathing spell, Mike went back to in-
quire about Neal, and on each occasion
found him sleeping procera

“1 don’t think we need feel any uneasi-
ness concerning him,” Mrs, Wilson said
at the Irishman’s third visit. “This quiet
sleep shows that no severe injuries have
been received, and, save for the scratches
on his face and hands, he will probably
feel as well as every by daylight.”

“Thin I’ll not be after comin’ agin,”
Mike replied. “Take me advice an’ close
yer eyes, for it’s a sorry day that follows
a ristless night.”

As Mrs. ilson had predicted, Neal
awakened in the morning to find himself
none the worse from the previous even-
ing’s disaster, and would have taken
Pon in the street parade had not Mr.

owe said:

“You'd better lie still as long as_pos-
sible, so’s to make sure nothing will dar
vent an exhibition with Beaut his
afternoon. June can take your place in
the parade.”

“Are you going to let her ride the
spotted pony?” Neal asked, in alarm.

“No, indeed. Mr. Wilson will see that
she has a quiet horse.”

 

The idea that June was to ride in pub-

Sim Thomas and his friend had re-

 

NEWS.

lic so soon, drove the last remnant of
sleep from his eyelids, and through the
window of the carriage he watched the
company’s movements.

There was not the slightest cause for
anxiety regarding the girl’s safety.

Clad in a dress of spangled velvet several
sizes too large, she was mounted on an
aged horse, who had long since foresworn
any youthful antics, and either side her
rode Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.

June was in a high state of excitement
at being a pe of this gorgeous pro-
cession, and although she was not a skill-
ful equestrienne, her appearance on horse-
back was far from awkward.

Had it not been that Neal was ordered
to consider himself an invalid, until time
for the afternoon performance, he might
have heard at least a portion of the con-
versation held by the ex-hostler and his
wife in the menagerie tent shortly after
the parade.

Having come from Norwich with the
horses, Mr. Thomas entered town at the
same time as the circus, and was loung-
ing around the main entrance when his
wife came from the dressing-room.

“How did you get here?” Mademoiselle
Jeanette asked, in surprise.

“Old Howe put me in: charge of the
horses belonging to the broken wagon.”

“Ts he going to hire you again?”

“No danger of that. I’ll start for New
York in a day or two, providing you can
spare a little cash.”

“But it so happens that I want you to
stay with the show a while longer,” Mrs.
Thomas said sharply. “There’s some work
to be done, orI shall lose my situation
very soon.”

“What’s the matter now?” Sim asked.
“You don’t fancy the Royal Amphitheater
can afford to part with its only female
rider, eh?”

“It looks like it. I’m not a favorite
with any of the company, as you know,
and Howe will soon be ina position to
dispense with my services, unless some-
thing is done immediately. He has taken
on a girl from Norwich, and Wilson is
going to teach her to ride, She’s young,
won't be bad looking in the ring, and can
do a bareback act in a short time. Then
I must eat humble pie, which I won’t
do,ror he’ll give me my walking pa-

ers.”

r “T don’t see how I can helt it by ke
ing,” Sim said, with a forced laugh, “It
strikes me the proper way to do is to get
back to New. York and find a job, in
case rae are thrown out of work.”

“That sha’n’t happen if I can prevent
it,” and Mrs. Thomas spoke very emphati-
cally. “The girl must be forced to leave
the show before she becomes valuable,
and you are the one who can bring about
such a state of affairs.”

“1?” cried the ex-hostler in dismay.

“Don’t be a fool! You act as if 1 had
asked you to kill her.”

Probably Mr. Thomas thought exactly
that same thing, for his face grew pale,
and he trembled until it became necessary
to steady himself by one of the wagons.
-“T can’t prevent it if Howe chooses to
keep her.”

The equestrienne leaned forward, as she
said in a whisper:

“You’re a perfect idiot! An accident
might happen while the girl is taking a
lesson, or she could be detained in a
strange town until the show went on
without her. Howe is short of money,
and couldn't afford to lay over a single
day if half a dozen performers were lost.
Think about it, Sim, and I’m certain
you'll hit on some eet but be quick
whatever is done, for In a couple of
weeks it will be too late.” .

Then Mrs. Thomas walked rapidly out
of the tent with an expression of satis-
faction on her face, for she believed her
husband would act on the suggestion
made, and June would not long remain a
stumbling-block in her path. ¢
_ As his wife disappeared Sim Thomas
looked furtively around like one who,
having committed a crime, fears detec-
tion, and then, convinced that they had
been alone, lounged off in the direction
of the stables.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
——_—___~~-o-o__—-

PARROTS.

Parrots can be taught to speak ina
very short time by observing the follow-
ing hints: Keep out of sight while giving
the lesson. Too much attention cannot
be paid to the linking together of the
words forming any sentence < may wish
the bird to acquire. Let each word glide
into the next as smoothly as possible,
and if itis found that the bird experi-
ences great difficulty in mepeetine a par-
ticular Jesson, it is advisable not to per-

’

sist in teaching it at that time, as it may]

render the pupil sullen and vicious. Ap-
proach the bird with kind words, and
teach it to like you before attempting to
impart to it a knowledge of language.
From this it can be easily seen that both
patience and good-nature are absolute
requisites, —

 

oe

White-Horse Fred,
JULIAN AMONG THE OUTLA

—_e———.

By HARRY CASTLEMON, °
Author of “A Sailor tn Spite of Himself,” “4
his Colors,” “Frank, the Young Natura’
“Frank in the Woods,” “The 5
“Brank on the Mountains,” “The Rod a
Club,” “Snowed Up,” “Guy Harris,” ete:

>

Back numbers can be obtained of all News

>

[“Wurre-Horsr Frep” was commented it biG tal,

CHAPTER XXIII

JULIAN MAKES A DISCOVERY+ —
cy
UR hero rode away from the

which had been the scene
recent thrilling adventure
ecstasy of bewilderment
alarm. He could not find a satisia
explanation for a single one
strange incidents that ha
there—they were all shroude
tery which he could not penet
one thing, however, he was certain:
that was that that gallant young 6
whoever he was, who had so Dé
escaped death at Smirker’s hands, §
not remain long a prisoner. He 7
have him out of that cabin, if Coe 5;
any way by which his release a
effected, and find out what he Te
claiming to be Julian Mortimer ae ad
that “watchful friend,” who ae nj
dressed that note to him and visit€"
room the night before while and
asleep, could tell him what ought ae
done under the circumstances, 1) ~
only obtain an interview with
he would use his best endeavor
complish by returning at onee |
uncle’s ranch, and remaining “y 5
night. If his mysterious frie? ing
aus

come into his room before m0
would be sure to see him. af
Julian’s new horse was quite oa 4
as Snowdrop, and showed t one
willingness to go ahead. He fer a ;
the rocky path at break-neck ot out ,
bay quietly following. For te at ¢
continued that mad gallop, ae ened
end of that time suddenly slacy ath ;
pace to a walk. This aroused JU eh
straightened up and looked 4
sepering to see his uncle’s ,
before him; but not a bul
description was in sight. |
toiling up a steep mountain Pr al
led through a wilderness ° ait
rocks that Julian did not rem he
have seen before. He knew tha”:
not passed that way in the me b
had been so completel absOr ou
reflections that he had not t
directing his steed, but trus i
animal to carry him back to
ranch. But now he remembe
thrill of terror, that he was
Snowdrop, but a horse belon
robber—one, t6o0, which was
of Sram frequent and, pe
journeys between certain Pp?
anima
going, but Julian did not
seen the valley since he
cabin, and that proved
without attracting his
turned into another path, 40
ing him deeper into the mouy
to what

taint
place? To another ro 4 a4
beyond a doubt. Julian shu ya

thought. ;
To add to his alarm nigh
coming on, the sky was
clouds of inky blackness,”
eae playing about the Cad aS
and the hoarse mutter! Cee
could be heard in the distanc& ances
was to be done under such CV”. and.
He could never retrace bis oa ne
his way back to the valley 1%
He knew by the ex erience
ready had with Snowdrop
mals White-horse Fred rode a
come accustomed to a parte
duty, objected to having the 4; an
ner of proceeding interrupt” * mou
nag on which he was. i ination,
should show the same disity “exhibit
turn back that Snowdrop hat coule
to leave Smirker’s cabin, MN Go nd
do? He would be obliged 0 oat be
tirely on himself, and he ha
hopelessly bewildered before 16 cide
a hundred yards. To ¢ eat wou
path and wait for day ae
equally hazardous, for t wi him or
Mn ea in the retin gwee
swiftly approaching § a
every Soavanie thing before Jt a
go on—he had no alternat be jn kn0
““There’s some conso one worse §
that I can’t get into a mue t gor
than that which I have jet
thought Julian. “If I hite-horse
passing myself off as t to. yuck
will reveal myself and onl pa me
that event the rope w

prisoner of me, for

¢ was 3

 
 

 

    

GOOD NEWS.

 

 

hem to be harmed. Smirker said so»
Ouch I haven’t the least idea what he
ut by it.”

Maving settled this point, Julian put
mts to his horse, which, having by this

 

      
        
   

AWS. we gained the summit of the hill, set
| )( 4 the top of his speed. The gloom of
é ght settled rapidly over the mountains,
/})Wing more and more intense every in-
ant, and finally even the nearest objects

  
 

  

  
  

apyue (O-

   
   
    
 
       
    
    
  
  
   
     

 
  
   
  
    
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
    
    
    
    

   
   
    
    
 
 
    
   
     

    
 

    
  

    

      
    
  

     
   
    

    

  
 

    
    
 
      
   
     

lista” He Shut out from his view, save when
Morse? }, Occasional flashes of lightning burst
snd GUE the thick blackness overhead. To
C. fase his uneasiness he became aware
tthe path over which he was being
No. # hed with all the speed his horse could
ents) }Mand ran along ae brink of a deep
eice. Trusting enbizels to May Rees
We and leaving the bay to take care o
ithet: pucien clungewith a eeeth exp
; } © horn of his saddle, closing his eyes
- ten the lightning illuminated the scene,
» cabin y Le might not see the dangers before
of hiS M1 and then when darkness once more
in nh ciled over the mountains holding his
| ha he BS suspense, perp eneed™
ac 0 find himse!f whirling headlong to
of the struction. But the sure-footed aniinal,
ppene® J, 08 Carried the real White-horse Fred
a mye iy. 6, ehat same chasm on many.a night
be na ) this, was too familiar with the way
DOW ven into any dangers. Silo
e ’ §~*?er and nearer came the storm, a
prow! like that of a thousand express
show) pts filling the canon behind him, the
wou’ thing flashing incessantly, the thun-
re ed ., Coming and echoing among the cliffs
se by - ic discharges es weave aptney,
a ‘hactash of falling timber sounding
erhan® plder and plainer every instant, and
d his et and faster flew the white horse
ed. a3 Te his terrified rider. He sped along
e Pea he i bird on the wing, never once abat-
Od An. Pape Secs in the pra and
, : Gifficult places, and, finally, to
, This an’s immense relief, carried him into
ac hj
to his | tkly wooded ravine, and after mak-
to all We Several abrupt turns and plunging
uke 1d aigh a dense thicket of bushes, came
hone },, Udden halt. On the instant the boy
ing mc his hand to his mouth and gave a
swift ih at, imitation of White-horse Fred’s
o mre.
st ig lay!” came the response, through
gore ang tenes, the voice sounding close at
20s e |“*w
are Q aeew’ !” panted Julian, drawing hs
a pis dag, rchiet a ord drip rae
| . * i A
0 asn’t it lucky that I had my
hr a’ About me? I heard a window close,
t close P80) oN rattle as it was ened into
Marq seb; and that proves that some one
of any i” My approach and was on the look-
a0 Mich “Wtiq if [ hadn’t given the signal just as
and we g might have Dew seg rt
wr tO Mt SOmething to know wha ave
me | me &0 through with now?”
© He Wij,” could not see even the faintest
Be his Teles of a house before him, but never-
nt of F bic there was one there. The sound
a the Maa and the tramping of heavy feet
LO 1e'S Mill, ONE floor came faintly to his ears,
e
ne ‘ yved by the grating of bolts and
Wing lige 4nd presently a door swung open
mo ® I M his side—so close that if he had
pabib | banc’ his hand he could have touched
dailY Mt, 00d of light streamed out into the
) phe Marea 8, and a man with a lantern ap-
ie wat nice rn ae threshold. aint} at's harsp
nob ji Oved forward, carrying his rider
ce % Min, Stable oe . ae i A Cau
yse, “yay. * S cabin, an ne bay followec
hora K heat his heels. Searcely had they
catty: Men the shelter of the friendly roof
put wy, the storm burst forth in all its
tatio®  bvy
Mt the li rolled off his horse rather than
id fy. ited, and the hostler, after closing
apidly “th Stening the door, held up his lan-
. Fe 1 Vhy 1 ela sharety into his face. ,
s¢nin Mem. oy!” he exclaimed, in grea
tops r Nent.
stor Man all up with me now, ?” thought
what Wer) Tam discovered at last.”
ance®s Pig, 4% Sir!” continued the man, after a
4 fr , Ver by are oe something so-nigie
dat*"' Whit, ©Xpected to see in my life—
ad a Rc, horse Fred frightened.” ;
g av Me; SS you would be frightened if you
feof vily relieve returned Julian,
i i, ved.
| n ther tiers haven't been after. you,
if wie
wanted Woh ner replied in the negative.
OP ad “They a “Sy a then ! a oh ton'
jbi or ct. I never heard such thun-
uld ne ite Siete a roaring of wind. You got
id on Vetraj, “time, didn't you? Listen to
ecm MP teast: lhe water in the gullies-will
d go, Ih, ere aoigh to'a horse in five minutes.
ie a The dost er rate enone from?” manor
1 ‘Stal, eading the bay into one o
falle? to 8,
sab oe ie the Port Stoughton. He was stolen
ecPE Mh’ thic wor.”
mu Php, S all you’ve got? Haven’t you
g No any dust or nuggets?”
wiry ia h at was all Smirker had to give
seria thhe
it OF Tey fellows up there are getting lazy.
is (tt Vv
eed | 1 My. fr send anything but horses
Frevg 4k op Sata - know that is inter-
Ke gw My Oth; ~cleing?”
a it hing, Smirker told me to tell you

 

te Blopy jaPtain’s cub had got back.”
exclaimed the man, looking

 

 

over his shoulder at Julian, and bringing ‘
| with his head resting upou his hand, and

his horny palms together with a noise
like the report of a pistol.

“I don’t’ know what he meant by it,”
added Julian, hc ping that the man would
finish the story Smirker had been relating
to him when White-horse Fred arrived.

“Of course you don’t, but I do; and it
is the best piece of news I ever heard.”

“Why is it?”

“That is a secret known only to a few

of us whom the captain is willing to}

trust. But, of course, as you are a faith-
ful member of the band, you will one day
share in the benefits of it. I’d like to tell
you, but I’m sworn to tell nobody, Your
supper is waiting.”

That was something Julian was giad to
hear. Uncle Reginald had kept him in
such a state of excitement that morning
that he had eaten very little breakfast,
and he was as hungry as a wolf, Fortu-
nately there was but one door leading out
of the stable beside the one at which he
had come in, and he knew which way to
go to find the living room of the cabin.

Being satisfied now that he could pass
himself off anywhere for White-horse
Fred, he boldly pushed open the door and
found himself in the presence of two
rough-looking men, who were stretched
out on benches, with their saddles under
their heads for pillows.

At one end of the room was a table,
made of unplaned boards, upon which
was a goodly supply of corn-bread and
bacon, a tin plate with a fork beside it,
and a quart cup, which a villianous-
looking Mexican, who entered from an-
other room just as Julian came in from the
stable, was filling with very black-look-
ing coffee. The men on the benches
greeted him with rude cordiality, the
Mexican bowed to him, and Julian, as-
suming an air of carelessness and indiffer-
ence that he was very far from feeling,

 

‘the boy than his

dressed in a faded suit of black. He sat
his eyes fastened upon the floor; and
there was something in his face, which
was turned partly toward him, that at-
tracted the boy’s attention and excited
his sympathy at once. He knew in-
stinctively that the man was in trouble.
A second glance showed him that he was
a prisoner—that he was in double irons.

Who was he, and what had he done to
incur the displeasure of the robbers that
they should keep him so closely confined?
If Julian had been able to answer this
question and had known the full value of
the discovery he had just made, he would
have been astonished and excited beyond
measure,

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
PEDRO MAKES ANOTHER.

TAHE prisoner raised his head with a
weary, languid air when Julian
stopped before his door, but no
sooner did his eyes rest full upon

whole appearance

changed as if by magic. The look of utter
dejection faded from his face, and was
succeeded by an expression in which ex-
citement and hope were strangely blended.

\

XN

| Placing his finger upon his lips with a
| warning gesture, he arose to his feet, and

then Julian saw that he was even more
securely confined than he had supposed,
being chained to the floor.

The prisoner, who was considerably
past the prime of life, was a man of very
commanding appearance, and in_ his
youthful days must. have been a model of
strength and agility; but now his frame
was emaciated to the last degree, his
cheeks were pale and sunken, and his
eyes, which were fastened eagerly upon

‘the boy, had a wild, defiant look in

threw his sombrero into one corner of the ,

room and seated himself at the table.
~ Lhe nervousness and timidity he felt

on first entering the room very soon be- |

gan to wear away. The men, after mak-
ing some coarse jests concerning his new
clothes, entered into a lively conversa-
tion with him, and asked a multitude of

uestions about persons and places which
Fulton had never seen or heard of. From
some remarks they let fall he found out
why they were so inquisitive. They were

obliged to remain in that cabin month in |

and month out, scarcely ever stirring be-
yond the threshold; they never saw any
new faces except those of the captain and
the two agents who brought the stolen
property there and took it away again;
and they knew nothing of what was going
on in the outside world except. what their

them.

As he arose slowly and tremblinlgy to
his feet, he beckoned to Julian impa-
tiently, almost fiercely, to enter the room,
at the same time drawinga letter from
his pocket and tossing it toward him.
It fell upon the carpet just inside the
door, and Julian, filled with wonder,
stepped forward, and picked it up. An
instant afterward he would have given
everything he ever hoped to possess, if he
could have recalled the action.

The rattling of dishes in the kitchen
suddenly ceased, and the Mexican cook
came into the hall, humming a tune and
snapping his fingers as if he felt at peace

‘with himself and all the world, and

visitors told them. Julian gratified their |

curiosity by relating a very few things were fully shared by the
that had happened that day in Smirker’s face was the color of ashes.

Julian knew, as well asifit had been
told him, that he was coming into that
room,

The anxiety and alarm he exhibited
risoner, whose
He could

cabin, and a good many things that had not have been more fully alive to the

not happened. He repeate

that had been told him about the “cap-|beeu in the same peril himself.

every word dangers of the boy’s situation, if he had

After

tain’s cub,” in the hope that the men looking all around the room, searching
would tell him the rest of the story, but for some avenue of escape or place of con-
in this he was disappointed. They ex-|cealment, he pointed with a quick move-
pressed unbounded delight at the intelli- | ment behind the door, and sinking back
gence, but said, somewhat fiercely, that into his chair, rested his head upon his

Smirker ought to have held his tongue.
But little was said after this.

| hand. J
The men and was quick to obey it.

Julian understood the gesture
He dodged

having listened to all Julian had to tell behind the door like a flash of light, and

them, rearranged their blankets and pre- a moment later the Mexican came into
ared to go to sleep; and the boy, being the room.

eft to himself, gave his whole atten- |

tion to the corn-bread and bacon. When
he finished his supper and arose from the
table, the robbers were both snoring lus-

tily. ;

“What’s the next thing on the pro-
gramme, I wonder?” soliloquized Julian,
who, not knowing what else. to do,

walked about the room looking at the}

weapons which hung upon the wall. “I
am afraid to make a move in any direc-
tion for fear I shall act so unlike White-
horse Fred that somebody will suspect
me. I’ll stroll around a little and see
what sort of a place I have got into.”

The Mexican who had served up the
supper came in at this moment to clear
away the dishes, and when he went out
again Julian walked to the door, through
which he disappeared, and stood there
sien 18 about him, and wondering if it
would be safe to venture beyond it. It
led into a long, narrow hall, at the op-
posite end of which was a secdnd door
that «communicated with the kitchen.
This door was open, and the sounds that
issued from the room told him that the
Mexican. was engaged in washing the
supper dishes.

After a moment’s pause Julian kept
slowly on, intending to take a peep into
the kitchen; but when he had gone about

half-way through the hall he saw another | dea

door at his left hand, which he had not
before noticed. It was open, and led into
a room which presented a great contrast
to the one Julian had just left. It was
nicely furnished, carpeted, provided with
a comfotrable bed, and there were orna-
ments on the mantel over the fire-place,
and pictures hanging upon the walls. In
the middle of the floor was a table with
the remains of a supper on it, and beside
it sat a ;tall, military-looking gentleman

 

“Have you finished your supper?” he
demanded, roughly.

“No,” replied the prisoner.
again in a few minutes.”

“Now, I want you te hurry up; do you
understand that? I am not going to wait
all night for those dishes.”

The Mexican went out again and stood

looking up and down the hall. Once he
started toward the living-room, and the
movement gave Julian new cause for
alarm. What if he should goin there
and discover his absence? What would
the robbers do to him if they should find
him concealed in the room with their
prisoner? The fears these questions con-
jured up were speedily set at rest, how-
ever, for the man turned about and went
into the kitchen again; and when the
rattling of the dishes told Julian that he
had resumed his work, he thrust the let-
ter into his pocket, slipped from behind
the door, and with noiseless steps re-
traced his way to the living-room. He ar-
rived there just in time to escape danger
from a new source, for the door of the
stable opened and the hostler entered.
He found the boy seated beside the table,
with his arms folded and his ‘head rest-
ing upon them. He had assumed this
position in order to conceal his face,
which he knew was as pale as that of the
ad.
“Wake up here, Fred!” cried the man,
striking Julian on the shoulder with his
open hand. “You've no business go to
sleep. You
for anybody except us. four fellows to
stay in this ranch all night. The storm
is over, and you can start back now.” |

“Start back!” thought Julian, raising
his head and rubbing his eyes asif he
were very sleepy. “Must I ride along
that dreadful chasm again to-night?

“Come in

know it’s against orders | me

 

Where will that horse take me? Back to
Smirker’s, probably.”

“You will have a pleasanter time going
than you did coming,” continued the
hostler. “The moon is shining brightly.”

“Any messages?” asked Julian.

“None that I think of. Be down again
to-morow ?”

The boy, replying in the affirmative,
accompanied the hostler to the stable,
and in a few minutes more heard the
heavy door locked behind him, and was
flying along the zigzag path that led
from the ranch to the chasm.

The ride proved to be much more to his
liking than the one he had taken a few
hours before. The moon lighted up every
object within the range of his vision, and
he had a fair view of the dangers through
which he had passed. The horse carried
him along the chasm in safety, and when
that was passed Julian threw the reins
loose on the animal’s neck and gave him-
self up to his reflections. Of course, the
prisoner occupied all his thoughts. He

ulled the letter from his pocket and

ooked at it on all sides. There was some-

thing written on it—probably the ad-
dress of the person to whom it was to be
delivered; but Julian, with the aid of no
better light than that afforded by the
moon, could not make it out. He had
two prisoners to assist now, he told him-
selfi—Smirker’s captive and the old gentle-
man who had given him the letter. The
former, as we know, was no longer in
need of help; but the other was, and in
Julian he had a friend worth having. He
had others, too, shrewd, active, daring
men, who had labored unceasingly for
years to discover his whereabouts and
effect his release, but without the least
hope of success. Silas Roper would have
given the best years of his life to have
known what Julian knew.

It seemed to our hero that the ride
would never come to an end. He made
no attempt to guide his horse, but kept a
good lookout on both sides in the hope of
seeing some familiar landmark. He did
not intend to be carried back to Smirker’s
cabin, if he could prevent it. An hour
later he emerged from a deep ravine into
a broad, level valley, and then he knew
where he was. His horse showed a de-
sire to carry him up a narrow path which
led to a high hill beyond; but Julian in-
sisted on having his own way, and by the
help of his spurs soon induced the animal
to yield to his guidance. The five miles
that lay between him and his uncle’s
ranch were quickly accomplished, and
when Julian drew rein in front of the
gate he felt as if a mountain had sud-
denly been removed from his shoulders.

“I never expected to see this place
again,” thought he, as he pounded upon
the gate with the handle of his hunting-
knife. “Uncle Reginald told me this
morning that he wanted me to feel that I
had a right to go and come when I
planet and I guess he will think I

aven’t been slow to take advantage of
his permission. It must be long after
midnight, but I can’t go to sleep, for I
don’t want to miss seeing that watchful
friend of mine, if he comes about.”

The furious blows Julian showered
upon the gate brought the dogs out in
full chorus, and in a few minutes Pedro
also appeared with his lantern. He must
have known who it was demanding ad-
mittance, for he did not stop to look
through the wicket, but opened the gate
at once, and Julian rode in.

“I am sorry to be obliged to disturb you
at this hour,” said the boy, as he dis-
mounted in front of the door of the ranch,
“but I couldn’t help it.” “

“Twas up and waiting for you,” was
the reply. “Your uncle has given me
orders to hold myself in readiness to at-
tend to you at any hour of the day or
night; so you see—well—I—Carrajo !” 3

The Mexican, who had taken Julian s
bridle from his hand, ceased speaking
very suddenly, raised his lantern, and
after surveying the horse all over, opened
his eyes to their widest extent, and broke
out into a volley of Spanish oaths and
ejaculations indicative of the greatest
astonishment. He had made an alarming

iscovery. f -

. 23 Well) what is it?” asked Julian. “Do
you see anything strange?’ a,

“No,” answered the man, hastily.
“Take this lantern to light you to your
room, and I will put your horse in the
stable.” 5

“Is anything new going to happen, I
wonder?” thought Julian, as he took the
proffered lantern and made his way along
the hall to the sleeping apartment.
“Pedro has found something to surprise
him, and I can’t imagine what it can be.
I guess Uncle Reginald would be sur-
prised, too, if he knew where I have been
and what I have since seen he last saw
Never before had a room looked so cozy
and comfortable, or a bed so inviting, as
Julian’s did that night. He was almost

exhausted by his long ride and the excite-
ment through which he had passed, but
he had a matter of importance before
him, and he could not think of retiring,

  
732

His first move was to light the candle
that stood on the table and extinguish
the lantern, and his second to draw his
easy-chair beside the table and take the
mysterious letter from his pocket. It
was soiled and crumpled, and Julian
thought it must have been written a long
time, and that the gentleman had carrie

it constantly about his person, waiting
for an opportunity to give it to some one.
The words written on the outside were:

“To any good Christian into whose
hands this letter may come.”

“That means me,” thought the boy.
“That poor gentleman is in great trouble,
I know, and I am Christian enough to
help him out of it if I can.”

He opened the letter, little dreaming
what a surprise was in store for him,
and looked at the signature to see who
the writer was. He looked, ana the blood
went rushing back upon his heart, leav-
ing his face ghastly pale. He rubbed his
eyes, held the letter closer to the candle,
and slowly read aloud the words:

“Yours, in dire distress,
“SAMUEL MORTIMER,
“Late Major of the Army of the United
States.”

“Tt is from my father!” gasped Julian,
sinking helplessly back into his chair.

“Is it? Then give it to me,” said a
stern voice close at his elbow.

A hand suddenly appeared from behind
his chair, and clutching the letter, at-
tempted to snatch it from his grasp, but
the boy’s fingers closed upon it with a
most determined grip. Thinking of the
emigrant, he started up with a cry of
alarm to find himself confronted by Uncle
Reginald, whose face was as black asa
thunder-cloud.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

DARING DEEDS OF BOYS.

BY NATHAN D. URNER.

—~

Godfrey Blake, the Young Midshipman.

HE principal event in the following
story was narrated to the writer by
an old naval officer of the war of
1812, who can vouch for its truth.

Our hero, Godfrey Blake, was born in
New Bedford, and served in the United
States Navy almost from his childhood.

His mother died when he was a baby,
and his father, who was boatswain on
board the sloop-of-war Spitfire, made a
powder-monkey of his son as soon as he
attained the age of eleven years.

Old Blake, the father, was killed by
the explosion of a cannon in the summer
of 1812, in Chesapeake Bay, and Godfrey
was left an orphan. “But he had learned
much of the service in his juvenile
capacity; the captain liked and befriended
him, and he remained on board the Spit-

re.

War was declared, and the vessel, com-
missioned from Baltimore, went to sea
on a general cruise against English com-
merce. .

Upon the occasion of an engagement
with the British brig Nottingham, which
occurred shortly afterward, little God-
frey Blake, then only fourteen years of
age, had an opportunity to ins the
wonderful nerve and courage which he
possessed. |

The Spitfire had had a number of her
- erew killed and wounded by bombshells
thrown by the enemy upon her deck, and
the little fellow had been an eye-witness
to the terribly destructive nature of their
rate

s the vessels neared each other
another bomb fell upon the Spitfire’s
poop, and remained there with the fuse
smoking. A

There was a general scattering of the
officers and seamen in its vicinity. But
Godfrey—probably not desiring to see any
further devastation from such missiles—
ran up to the shell and tried to push it
overboard with his foot. This he was un-
able to do; so he picked it 4 in his
arms, bore it laboriously to the bul-
warks, and threw it overboard.

The shell had only sank two or three
feet beneath the surface of the sea when
it exploded, throwing up fountains of
spray,and making the strong ship shiver
from peak to keelson.

The naive unconcern and insensibility
to fear which distinguished this act, im-
ae the captain so forcibly that he

revetted the lad a midshipman on the
spot, to take the place of another
“middy,” who had been sent away in
charge of a prize.

The Spitfire defeated her antagonist,
and returned to Baltimore, after a most
successful cruise, at the end of nine
months.

Here Blake was duly commissioned as
a midshipman, and was transferred to
Captain Porter’s gallant Essex, then
about to start on her famous cruise in
the South Pacific.

The diligence and industry of the

 

GrooDp

young officer soon brought him under the
| down, but the forward hatch had been

notice of his commander.

During the fight with the English frig- |
ate Arethusa, the contest was for a long
time undecided. ‘The latter was the larg-
est vessel, and three of her boats at- |
tempted to board the Esséx.

A terrible struggle ensued upon the
starboard quarter, with pistol, hatchet, |
and cutlass, each striving desperately |
for the mastery.

Porter himself fought like a lion in the |
press. At one period of the day his life
was in imminent danger. He was fenc-
ing with the lieutenant having command |
of the enemy’s boats, when a British |
sailor, having disposed of his man, came |
to the assistance of his superior, and |
raised his cutlass over Porter’s head. In}
another instant the fate of the Essex
would have been sealed. But Godfrey |
Blake saw his chieftain’s danger and
blew the new assailant’s brains out, his |
pistol being so close to the fellow’s head |
as to blacken the whole side of it with)

owder.

The enemy were beaten back into their
boats. The Americans boarded in their
turn, and the Arethusa was captured.

This was on the coast of Brazil, and,
after weathering Cape Horn, the Essex
began that unprecedentedly long and
brilliant cruise among the British mer-
chantmen and whalers of the South
Pacific, which has made her more illus-
trious in the history of naval warfare.

Young Blake was intrusted with the
charge of a number of prizes, all of which
he managed to carry into friendly ports
in safety. But his first real exhibition
of skill and nerve, as a commander, was
upon the occasion of his eee in
charge of the prize Roebuck. The Roe-
buck was a splendid East Indiaman, with
an almost priceless cargo, which had
been captured by the cutter of the Essex
in the vicinity of the Fejee Islands, and
Godfrey Blake was placed in charge of
her, with a crew of ten men.

The first mate and original crew of the
Roebuck—twelve in number, and all
English, with one exception, a brawny
Lascar—were confined as prisoners.

Her voyage to the States was a long
and perilous one, but after obtaining a
plentiful supply of fresh water at the
islands, the boy-officer gave orders to
weigh anchor, and proceéded on his way
full of confident spirit.

After weathering a most terrific gale
off the Horn, they came out of its mists

and dangers only to encounter a still|c¢

greater peril in the shape of an English
man-of-war, which instantly gave chase.
The Roebuck, however, proved a better
sailor before the wind, and after a close
an exciting chase, evaded her enemy, and
was alone upon the sea.

Although the prisoners in the hold had
been uniformly well-treated, young Blake
had ere this detected signs of dissatisfac-
tion among them. |

He put his own men on their guard,
and “warned the prisoners that they
should be placed in irons upon their dis-
playing the first symptoms of revolt.

But, late one night, when they were in
the hot latitudes, these symptoms became
unmistakably apparent.

Blake was pacing the quarter-deck, and
pensively gazing upon the beauty of the
moonlit sea. With the exception of the
man at the wheel, the watch were loung-
ing amidships. There was but little
wind, and nothing to mar the sublime
guiet of the scene.

The midshipman saw one of the men
composing the watch get up, and lean
lazily over the forecastle bulwarks, but
took no notice of it at the time. Pres-
ently he heard a slight splash at the bows
of the vessel. The ship was surrounded
by dolphins, disporting in the waves, and
at first he thought nothing of the sound,
but as he glanced casually along the
decks, he noticed that the position at the
bulwarks, occupied by the man a mo-
ment before, was vacant.

His suspicions were aroused instantly.
And these were by no means diminished
when another and keener glance showed
him a crouching, dusky figure, creeping
along in the deep shadow of the gun-
whale toward the place where the re-
mainder of the watch were sleepily re-
clining upon the deck. mis

A naked limb of this dark figure hap-
pening to glance out of the shadow into
the moonshine, the young officer hesitated
no longer, but, raising his pistol, took
steady aim and fired. '

There was a yell and a groan, and the
body of the Lascar prisoner rolled out of
the shadow, bleeding like a sacrifice.

The watch sprang to their feet at the] a

report of the pistol.

“Seize your arms, men!” shouted the
officer. “There’s mutiny astir. That
black devil there threw one of your com-
rades overboard a moment ago !"

The four men composing the remainder
of the watch grasped their weapons. They
had no sooner done so than a pistol re-
port from below told them that the pris-

 

oners were attacking the Americans in
the forecastle,

NEWS.

The main hatch was securely battened

left open, and it was evidently by this
means+that the Lascar had obtained ac-
cess to the deck.

“Follow me, men,” cried Blake; “we'll
stop any more of them from crawling out
of that hole.”

He sprang forward, and as he did so, a
burly head appeared above the hatch. It
went down very quickly, though, as a
bullet struck it in the temple. Shouts,
cries, and the noise of scuffling below in-
dicated that the prisoners were endeavor-
ing to force their way into the forecastle.

This occasioned our hero more anxiety
than anything else, as the men_ in their
bunks would doubtless be taken com-
pletely by surprise, ,

“Guard the hatch, lads,” said he;
“while I go over the bows here, and see
how our fellows are faring below.”

He reloaded his pistols, clambered
lightly over the bulwarks, and_ stood in
the shains in'a few seconds. From this
position he could make himself heard by
those within.

“Jackson Cooper!” he sang out.

“Ay, ay, sir!” returned a cheery voice.

“How is it with all of you?”

“I’m afraid they’ve killed poor Thomp-
son, sir,” replied the voice, “But we've
battened up the forecastle door, and they
can’t come in. They’ve got nothing but
one pistol and a lot of bludgeons.”

“If you can come near enough to the
chains I will give you some pistols,
Jackson.”

The noise of the prisoners endeavoring
to force their way through the battened
door was resumed at the same time the
midshipman heard Jackon trying to make
his way through the cable-den.

A hand was thrust out into the chains,
and Blake immediately placed his two
pistols in its palm, .

“Don’t waste a shot, Jackson,” said he.
“You may be able to pink two of them
through the chinks of your door.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

The hand was withdrawn, and the
midshipman drew his cutlass as he re-
gained the deck.

“There be’nt no more ugly mugs as has
made their ’pearance here, sir,” said one
of them at the forward hatch.

As he spoke, a shot echoed from below,
followed by a curse and a groan.

“One of my pistols did that,” said the
midshipman, jubilantly.

There was another shot, and another

”

ry.
“There goes the other.
below succeeded

Comparative silence ©
the shots. :

“They are either giving up the attack
upon the forecastle or preparing for an
attempt upon some other part of the
ship,” said Blake. (

“Perhaps, sir,” suggested the oldest of
the prize-crew—a stanch seaman named
Jeffrys—“they’ll try to break into your
cabin, grab your weapons, and then come
on deck by the stern ports. They can’t
any other way, for the companion-way is
fast shut.”

“I think you’re right, Jeffrys. One of
you wait here to guard the hatch, and
the rest of you follow me. We'll await
developments upon the quarter-deck.”

The midshipman proceeded thither, fol-
lowed by three men, the other remaining
at the hatch.

TRS ad not gained the poop, how-
ever, before a huge ruffian, cutlass in
hand, clambered over the stern, and cut
down the man at the wheel.

He was followed quickly by three

others. But the sailors’ pistols spoke
unerringly, and the boy-officer fleshed his
maiden sword by cutting down the fel-
low who had wounded the helmsman.
- The four upon deck having been effect-
ually disposed of, a voice from below sig-
nified that the remainder of the revolting
captives wished to surrender.

; olay precisely where you are, and your
lives shall be spared!” sang out the mid-
shipman. “Jeffrys,” he added, “go for-
ward and get the men in the forecastle
on deck, and then we will open the com-
panion-way.”

The men imprisoned in the forecastle,
with the exception of one who had been
wounded, were soon upon deck, and pro-
vided with arms.

All then surrounded the companion-
way, and one by one, the prisoners were
ordered up and placed in irons,

Both the helmsman and the man
wounded in the forecastle recovered; but,
of course, the poor fellow who was
thrown into the sea by the Lascar’s
treacherous attack was never heard of

found to have been slain. The remainder
were kept secure enough until the Roe-
buck arrived at Baltimore, where our
young hero was received with the respect
and attention which his courage and
fidelity deserved.

He served in various ships throughout
the war, was steadily promoted, and was
a first lieutenant when he died—some-
time in the year 1832,

gain.
Of the twelve prisoners, seven were}

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Shadow Figures :

(CONTINUED. )

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BESCAPEGRACE OF THE SENATE,

NUMBER TWO.

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WHE boys had not long to wait for
a) an opportunity to carry out their
Bl Scheme of vengeance against the
,, close- fisted old countryman.

ho the next afternoon his wife, a
Wle-minded old lady, who had never
» away from home before, arrived.
Old gentleman received a telegram
the day, informing him that she

“i

|

L)
~ ive onacertain train; and yet,

little posted was he upon the rules and
8 in Congress, that it never occurred
d bse to obtain a leave of abseuce, and
dy: d meet her himself. .
§. *hought his presence was imperative
Hever the House was in session, and
%..48ked one of the pages to go to the
Prepmeet his wife and conduct her to
el,

“ourse, he did not get the same page
he had had the previous night, but
si ade no difference, they were all

)

was a matter of fact, no page was
Mlled to go. Their duties are sup-
to be confined to matters pertain-
the business of the House or Sen-
md no member has a right to ask a
4. 8° Upon an errand outside of that.
hh uently, through the spirit of ac-
nj etion or the hope of a slight
te? the rule is waived and the page
». Ong trips in the interest of mem-
) Ptivate business.
The this occasion, when the Hon.
ick Seedcorn approached, wide-
iy, Ktight-eyed Billy Cisco, Billy
y, Hat he need not go if he didn’t
fg to, And he also knew that there
cs be “nothing in it,” as the boys
m cept, possibly, a little fun. But
Wie 28 that, together with the desire
1, ven” with the old gentleman for
,-4tment of his colleague, Roxy,
nrere sufficient to induce him to go
, “te, and he went with great alac-

/

ive also made an excuse to go.
tt the two boys arrived at the
‘it hey found not only the old lady
IS them, or rather awaiting her
\,, but they also found another
italy ere who was anxious to see the
ype gentleman. The latter was a
‘Nhe &t younger woman than his wife,
‘lai buxom widow. She had a pen-
Many against the Gov@érnment, and
hiptous to get the Hon. Seedcorn to
Now for her.

hep 788 their opportunity the pages

lng tok the old lady on foot, as she
ihe He go, for the sake of economy,
iy el,

bat flso took the widow to the hotel,
the ' Suggestion, they took a hack,
| ty eaid for it.
he yitse, Peter and the widow arrived
Sel first, and Peter got the key,
porn € widow sent up to the Hon.
*D

8 room, which he told her would
iy tig Per place to wait for the Con-
‘ alow took possession of the room,
d+ her bonnet and wraps, and pro-
fy,° Make herself comfortable.

‘arr ‘nutes later the Congressman’s
», ‘ved at the hotel, escorted by

din

Also &to a pre-arranged plan, she
) ‘

taken to the old gentleman’s

urs then hurried away to the Cap-

say e to report to the honorable gen-

to hat his wife had arrived, and
ang Port to the boys what had been

AS then take his place on the steps
8

@
sen th just returned from a funeral.
HSbania reeresanaan 8 mite apannes
ri $ room she was a trifle taken
rai another woman there, mak-
St ,),%t home, and she was in doubt
i and Out its being her husband’s
bj, Sked timidly:
iw” “S—this Wayback Seedcorn’s

aker’s dais and look as’ serious

iy ig»
WY.’ Teplied the widow, compla-

‘Aro
Man lady was dumfounded.

lq it © suspicion came over her.
antag be possible ——? but no. Way-
otherver shown any inclination
“py Say the ladies. But then she had
; hat thete was a great deal of
in the cities, especially Wash-
Majette these dreadful thoughts
th Ng their slow but sure way
a honest, old lady’s head, the
ola ely taking an inventory
“af la
* Was and
ok

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herself, and wondering
what she wanted.

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Finally, at the end of a silence of a full
minute and a half, the widow, having
arrived at the conclusion that the old
lady was some humble dependent or ap-
plicant for charity, said in a rather super-
cilious tone:

“Yes, this is his room, What do you
want?”

That made the old lady angry.

The idea of another woman asking her
what she wanted in her own husband’s
room!

“I want him,” she cried, vehemently;
“and now I’d like to know what you
want here!”

“T have a claim,” began the widow.

“You have a claim?” screamed the old
lady. “What claim have you against my
husband?”

“T have a claim—a pension claim,
against——”

“You have, have you?” shouted the old
lady, now thoroughly aroused. “What
right has my husband to pay you a pen-
sion, madam?”

The widow was pretty badly fright-{

ened by this time. She saw that she had
made a mistake, and was anxious to get
out of the difficulty in any way possible.

“You do not understand me,” she said.
“T have a claim against——”

“Yes, I understand perfectly,” cried the
old lady. “You have a claim against my
husband. Now, what is this claim?
How much is it, and what is it for? I'm
his wife, and have aright to know all
about his business.”

Here she made a dash for the widow,
who sprang out of the way, and the old
lady came slap up against her husband,
who had entered the room at that mo-

made a mistake in his flurry, and called
the wrong lady “my dear,” he tried to
mend matters by saying: “I didn’t mean
that; I——”

“Oh, no, you didn’t mean it, did you?’
yelled his wife. “A guilty conscience
needs no accusing!”

With that she made a lunge for the old
gent’s hair, but tripped over the widow’s
skirt and took a header into the old gen-
tleman’s stomach, knocking the breath
out of him and sending him spinning
about the room like a top.

As her husband was out of her reach
when she regained her feet, and the widow
was within reach, the old lady went for
her hair, grasped a handful and gave a
tug. But there was where she made a
mistake. The widow wore a wig, and it
came off, and the old lady took a _ back-
ward glide, like a rope spinner, and sat
down on her husband’s silk hat, which
had fallen off when she struck him.
| The widow waited for no further de-

velopments, but grabbed her hat and
oloak and rushed out of the room, with
Sd head shining like a porcelain door-

nob,

Just at that moment Peter put his head
in at the door to see how matters were
progressing, and seeing the Congressman
standing in one corner of the room, rub-
bing his stomach, and his wife sitting in
the middle of the floor, concluded that
the loving couple had been eating some-
thing that didn’t agree with them.

“Shall I go for a doctor?” asked Peter,
innocently.

“What do we want with a doctor?”
shouted the old lady, scrambling to her
feet with difficulty.

 

 

 

 

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SHE TOOK A HEADER INTO THE HON. SEEDCORN’S STOMACH, COMPLETELY KNOCKING THE
BREATH OUT OF HIM.

ment. The honorable gentleman was
staggered, no less by the scene before him
than the bump his better half had given

him.

“What’s up? what’s up?” he cried.

His wife glared at him for a full min-
ute before she could speak, so choked was
she with rage.

“What’s up,
castically, “T
you to ask, Wayback Seedcorn.
to ask you what is up, sir!”

“W’y—w’'y, my dear, how should I
know? I——”

“Oh, you're powerful innocent, ain’t
you?) What’s that woman doing in your
room? Tell me that, sir!”

“W'y—w'y, my dear, I don’t know. I
was just about to ask you. I s’posed she
came with you, and——”

“That’s a likely story to tell me. You
know she didn’t come with me, sir,”
shouted the old lady, getting madder
every minute; “and you know what she
is doing here, and what she wants. She
says she has a claim against you, but
she won’t tell me what itis. Now, sir,
explain yourself, or out comes what few
hairs you have left.”

The poor old chap turned pale, and the

erspiration began to ooze out of his fore-

ead, for he knew his wife too well to
doubt that she would do just what she
promised. And yet it was all a mystery
to him, and his head began to swim.

By this time the widow had recovered
something of her self-possession, and
stepping up, she said:

“I can explain this matter in a few
words, if you will allow me.” .

“T wish you would, my dear,” said the
old man. And then seeing that he had

eh?” hissed the wife, sar-
hat’s a pretty question for
I'd like

“You looked as though you wasn’t feel-
ing well,” replied Peter, sympathetically ;
“and I thought you might want a doc-
t ”

or.

“You’ll want a doctor, and that bad, if
you don’t scamper away from here,”
screamed the old lady, grabbing an um-
brella.

Peter did not wait to discuss matters,
but left.

The “morning session” of Congress al-
ways convenes at exactly twelve o’clock
noon, and the fact is announced by run-
ning up a flag on top of the Capitol build-
ing.

There was a man employed for this pur-
pose (having other duties, of course), and
as Peter delighted in running up the flag,
the man was not averse to allowing him
to do it, as he was not anxious to climb
te stairs leading to the roof him-
self.

This was not an easy job for a small
boy, especially if there was a stiff breeze
blowing, nitl sometimes the big flag
would tug so vigorously at the ropes that
before he could make them fast at the
bottom the flag would be at half-mast.
Peter would generally notice this, and,
unfastening the rope again, run the flag

to notice whether the flag was at the top
of the pole or not, and actually went
away and left it at half-mast.

It was not long before a good many
people had noticed the position of the
flag, and naturally supposing that some
public man was dead, they would rush
to the Capitol to find out who it was.

It so happened that some of these anx-
ious inquirers on reaching the Capitol

 

chanced to meet Peter, and inquired of
him the cause of the flag being at half-
mast. That was the first intimation he
had of the accident, but it wouldn’t have
been Peter if he had admitted that it was
an accident, so he put his wits to work
to invent an excuse. He remembered
seeing Congressman X—— returning to his
hotel ina very mellow condition a few
minutes before the time for opening, and
so he said that Congressman X—— was
dead, adding the qualifying clause
“drunk” under his breath.

This he repeated to several people in
the course of a few minutes, little think-
ing what the result would be.

It was not very long before some of the
members had got hold of the story, and
rushed off to the hotel where X—— was
stopping to ascertain the truth.

As luck would have it, the first person
of whom these members made inquiry
was a wagof an Irish porter, who had
just had the not over-pleasant task of
taking the inebriated Congressman to his
room.

“Is Congressman X—— really dead,
ane inquired one of the anxious mem-

ers.

“Faith, he is that same, yer honor,”
said Pat, with a broad grin.

The members wondered at the Irish-
man’s good humor under the circum-
stances, but came to the conclusion that
it was probably a way he had, and hur-
ried back to the House to report that
X—— was actually dead.

As is customary in such cases the House
at once suspended the order of business,
passed resolutions of condolence and sor-
row, and were on the point of adjourn-
ing, when X—— walked into the House
unobserved, having slightly recovered
from his inebriety.

The resolution of condolence had just
passed, and somebody had arisen to put
the motion to adjourn, when X—— stag-
gered to his feet, and in an unsteady
voice said:

“Misser Speaker, it’s — kind ’nd
considerate of this hon’ble body t’ pass
res’lutions of condolence over my demise;
but before these res’lutions are engrossed
I’d jus’ like t’ say that, in the language
of Daniel Webster, I still live.”

To say that the members of the House
were astonished, is to put it mildly.

For a full minute there was a dead si-
lence. To use Peter’s own words, “You
could have heard a gum-drop.”

And then with one accord the whole
House, with the exception of X——,
broke into a storm of laughter that shook
the marble dome.

The House then resumed business, and
everybody was good-natured over the
event, except some of the newspaper re-
porters and correspondents, who were
disgusted at losing a good item for their
respective papers.

In the meantime Peter had quietly
ie aloft and arranged the flag.

he pages, when off duty, generally sat
about on the steps leading up to the
Speaker’s stand, and sometimes during a
session, when there were no errands to
run, some of them would creep up behind
the Speaker’s chair and play marbles.
The Speaker could not see them, but some
of the members on the floor could, as well
as everybody in the galleries. The prac-
tice was a source of a good deal of annoy-
ance to some of the crusty old Congress-
men, especially if they happened to be
making a speech, because, first, they
didn’t believe in boys playing pranks
anyway, and second, the boys while en-
gaged in such sport, attracted more atten-
tion from the ladies in the galleries than
they did, with all their eloquence. Hence
they didn't like it. And the worst of it
was, they couldn’t stop it.

One old gentleman whose seat was near
the Speaker’s stand, was particularly an-
noyed, and had bestowed many an angry
frown upon -the “young villains,” as he
called them, at one time and another.

One day he was on his feet making a
fiery speech, and two of. the boys were
behind the Speaker’s chair playing mar-
bles. In the fore part of his speech the
old gentleman had noticed what they
were up to, and evinced his disapproval
of their conduct by a series of frowns and
angry shakes of the head.

The boys paid no heed to him, how-
ever, and went on with their game.

As the old gentleman got warmed up
with his speech he forgot about the boys,

 

up to the top of the pole. Buton one or,
two occasions he was in too great a hurry |

and allowed them to proceed without
molestation.

As the game and the speech went on
one of the marbles rolled a little too far

‘went over the edge of the platform, and

rolled down the steps upon the floor, di-
rectly under the feet of the member mak-
ing the speech. He didn’t see it, but
half the gallery did, and watched anx-
iously for the result.

The old party warmed to his subject,
swayed to and fro, swung his arms about
excitedly, and trod all about the premises.

Finally, in the most exciting part of
his speech he stepped on the marble.

| Everybody knew he would, and began to

titter. The old gentleman made a lunge
forward and threw up his hands like a

 
734

boy with his first roller-skates on, partly
recovered his balance and» shot backward
like a country dancer when bowing to his

artner, and spread out his arms like a
hen does her wings when she sees a bug.
By a desperate effort he recovered himself
partially, but the treacherous marble was
still under his foot, and no sooner had
he gained a tolerably perpendicular atti-
tude again when his foot shot back like
a shuttle, he described a grand semi-
circle with his right hand, sweeping all
the books and papers off his desk, and
hurling one volume into the air, which
sailed about for a second and then fell
with a sounding thump upon the bald
head of another member who was indulg-

ing in a nap.

The bald-headed gentleman jumped to
his feet, and yelled:

“Mr. Speaker, I rise to a point of
order.”

But the Speaker nor anybody else paid
any attention to him, for he, like the
rest of the House and the visitors in the
galleries, had his eye on the old gentle-
man with the marble under his foet, and
was too much interested to know how the
latter would ultimately come out to see
anything else.

There were a few side bets on the issue,
but the odds ‘seemed to be in favor of the
old gentleman’s falling, and, after a few
more fancy and extravagant gyrations,
the old gentleman fulfilled the prophecy
by tumbling in a heap upon the floor.

The House and galleries roared, and
the Speaker thumped vigorously with his
gavel to restore order, which he finally
did, and the business of the United States
Congress went on again just as though
no marbles — “potters,” “commas,” or
“white alleys”’—ever existed.

It will appear an exaggeration to those
unacquainted with the ways and methods
of the law-makers and their colleagues,
the pages, to suppose that the latter are
permitted to play so many pranks and go
unpunished. But they must remember
that the page is a boy with a boy’s love
of fun, and that, although there is a
strict set of rules governing pages, these
rules are honored more in the breach than
in the observance, and for several reasons.

In the first place, the boys are away
from home, and are inclined to enjoy
their freedom from restraint. They also
have a good deal of leisure time, which
always breeds mischief in boys, especially
where there are a lot of them thrown to-
gether.

Then, again, the majority of Senators
and Congressmen are jolly, good-natured
men, who haven’t forgotten that they
themselves were boys once, and take
pleasure in seeing the boys enjoy_them-
selves, so long as they are on hand when
duty requires them.

There is one thing the page insists
upon, and consequently generally re-
ceives, and that is courtesy. He won’t be
snubbed or treated unceremoniously under
any circumstances. For instance, he is
ready at all times to do anything within
reason for you, provided you ask him in
the proper spirit. The Congressional and
Senatorial page is an American in all the
name implies, and if you order him to do
anything as you would a flunkey, he
either won’t do it at all, or if he does, he
will do it in such a way that you would
rather it had not been done at all.

The members of Congress and the Sen-
ate are acquainted with his peculiarities,
and from them he generally receives the
most . courteous treatment. Lobbyists
and newspaper correspondents, however,
sometimes forget themselves so far as to
attempt to domineer over the “little
statesmen,” and they invariably get the
worst of it.

One day during a session a newspaper
correspondent dropped a note from the
reporters’ gallery (which is directly back
and above the Speaker’s desk), which he
desired to be carried to one of the mem-
bers. The missive sailed down upon the
floor, and the correspondent expected
that some page would pick it up and
convey it to the Congressman to whom it
was directed.

None of the pages paid any attention to
it, however, although they all saw it.
Finally Peter, who was sitting on the
steps near where the note fell, got up,
walked over to where it lay, gazed at it
for a moment, walked around it, and
surveyed it from various points of the
compass as though he was afraid it might
go off, if he got too near, and then walked
quietly back and sat down.

Seven or eight other pages who were
sitting about on the steps, taking their
cue from him, got up leisurely, one after
another, and each in turn went through
the same performance.

By this time every eye in the House
and galleries was upon them, and a broad
smile—in some cases a titter—greeted the
unhappy newspaper man.

At length he leaned as far over the
railing as possible, and, making a trum-
pet of his hand, said in a voice that was
audible below: /

“Will some of your majesties kindly
condescend to carry that note?”

GooD

Instantly one of the pages snatched the
note from the floor and conveyed it to the
member for whom it was intended.

But it was during recess that the page
reached the climax of deviltry. During
this period the Capitol building, Con-
gressional hall, Senate chamber, lobbies
and corridors, literally belonged to the
pages.

HKver¥thing was brought into requisi-
tion that would yield any fun.

One evening just prior to the opening
of the evening session, Peter proposed
that they (the pages) organize themselves
into a fire department.

The propositiow was unanimously agreed
to, and a Babcock _ fire-extinguisher,
which stood in a niche in one of the corri-
dors, was accordingly mounted upon a
cart used for conveying heavy parcels
about the building.

A dozen tin horns, which the boys had
obtained from somewhere, completed the
outfit of the Lilliputian fire department.

They went tearing through the corri-
dors and lobbies, tooting their horns and

ae at such a rate that you would

avo thought Bedlam had broken loose,

In their rounds they frequently passed
near one of the committee rooms, and as
there was a committee in the room, busy
over some important matter, the noise
greatly annoyed them.

Perhaps I had better tell you what a
committee is. Suppose you boys wanted
to build a great toboggan slide, and you
hadn’t money enough to do it, and sup-
posing you thought that such a thing
would be a benefit to the public at large,
and, therefore, concluded to ask the
United States Government to appropriate
—that is, give you the necessary funds.
You would prepare a bill or application
and present it to Congress, through some
member whom you chanced to know.

Your bill would be read before the
House, some of the members would speak
in favor of it, and some against it, and
finally (if it wasn’t “killed;” that is,
voted out, in the House) it would _ be re-
ferred to a committee—that is, a few of
the members (ranging in number from
three to fifteen) appointed by the Speaker.
This committee, after the session, and
sometimes during the session, go off ina
room by themselves and talk over the
merits of your bill, and whatever decision
they arrive at they report back to the
House.

Every time the “fire company” came
past the door with its din an racket,
the “members of the committee ground
their teeth and used language that
wouldn’t look well in print.

Finally, they decided that they wouldn’t
stand it any longer. The six Congress-
men postponed the important work be-
fore them, formed themselves into an
ambush of six, and waited inside the
door, armed with canes and umbrellas,
for the next round of the “fire brigade.”

They had not long to wait. Soon the
noisy mob came along like a cyclone.
They had scarcely reached the committee-
room door when open it flew, as if by
magic, and six Congressional heads
pe out.

don’t know why they did it. It was
probably without thinking what they
were about; but no sooner did the six
heads appear at the door when the “fire
brigade” came to a sudden halt, one of
the “firemen” pointed the hose at the
knot of heads and another one turned
the water on.

It didn’t take the six Congressmen
more than five seconds to realize their
situation, but that was long enough for
them to get pretty thoroughly soaked
with water; and then they shut the door
a trifle quicker than. they had opened it,
and left the “fire brigade” to their folly
and noise.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_—_—_~+ 0»
A BOILING BATH.

The mode of bathing practiced by the
Japanese is decidedly thorough, an
throws the Turkish bath in the shade. In
the front yard of every Japanese estab-
lishment there is one or more huge, coffin-
like, wooden ovens, with a small earthen
furnace let in at the foot and a lid in-
closing the whole of the top, with the ex-
ception of a space just big enough for
the head of the bather to emerge through.
In one of these contrivances, with a
small furnace burning gayly, a Japanese,

after his day’s work is over, will sit
calmly boiling himself with the lid on
and the water bubbling about him at a

boiling heat. It seems a very agreeable
process. to judge from the pleased ex-
pression of his face, fast deepening under
the operation into beet-root-like tints;

| and when he has had enough—about an

hour of it—he takes off the lid, and
emerges as much like a boiled lobster as
a human can become.

It must be a comical sight, as ‘one
passes along the street, to see these
shaven, rubicund heads bobbing up from

 

their tubs in the midst of a cloud of
steam,

 

NEWS.

NOTHING BUT A BOY,

a

    
  
  
   
   
    
  
 
   
   
  
 

By OLIVER OPTIC,
Author of “Lake Shore Series,” “Great Western
series,” “Onward and Upward Series,” ‘Yacht
Club Series,” etc.

{“Norsinc But A Boy” was commenced in No. 33.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

a od

CHAPTER XXXVII.
ABOUT THE BINKERTON PLACE,

‘~ QUIRE BASSWOOD drove home
~. from the village, where he had dis-
charged the mortgage, with two
thousand and sixty dollars in his
pocket, and at least two thousand and
sixty “fleas in his ear.” The prosperity
of his brother galled and worried him,
especially as that “Binkerton boy” had
the credit all over Pondville of changing
the current of the deacon’s adverse for-
tunes. It was plain enough to him that
he had lost all his power over that per-
verse and obstinate brother, who had re-
fused to sacrifice the pestilent fellow who
was “nothing but a boy.” He had _ sig-
nally failed to overwhelm Ralph and _ his
guardian, and he felt that the cup of his
humiliation and mortification was full;
but he did not suspect that the worst was
yet to come,

Even the large sum of money in his
panues was a source of tribulation to
1im. He was too old-fashioned to keep
a bank account; he did not believe in
the stability of banks. He was a money-
lender at high rates of interest; and when
he was to receive any considerable sum
he was generally ready to place it “where
it would do the most good.” In the pres-
ent instance he had not had the remotest
suspicion that his brother would pay the
note; and if he had expected to receive
the money his sickness and absence would
have prevented him from seeking another
investment. He was a timid man in
financial matters, and the idea of going
to bed with over two thousand dollars in
the house worried him sorely.

To' make the matter ten times worse
everybody in Pondville knew, or would
know before night, that the deacon had
paid off the mortgage. He had taken so
much pains to damage the credit of his
brother, and had so often declared that
he should be obliged to take his farm that
the subject had become a matter of public
interest. It was bad enough to have so
much money on hand; it was worse when
everybody knew he had it. He had no
a ee on hand from borrowers,
and the interest of the money was a dol-
lar for every three days. It was_uncom-
fortable for a miserly man _ to lose this
without the risk of being robbed of the
principal.

When the squire reached home he put
the money into the drawer of a bureau in
his chamber, where he kept his papers.
He locked the drawer and put the key in
his pocket. It would be safe there while
he was at home until night. At dinner,
which was ready when he arrived, he
told what had happened.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Tabitha, that
’Lijah had got rich since I’ve been gone?”
said he, at the table, ina very sour and
reproachful tone.

“Didn’t I begin to tell you last night?”
demanded Miss Tabitha Gadwing, tri-
umphantly.

“You said sunthin’ about the Binker-
ton boy, and I didn’t. want to hear
nothin’ about him.”

“You shet me up just as if I hadn’ta
right to speak a word, ’Bijah. Sakes
alive! It’s been town talk for three
months how Ralph fixed the horse-power
on to the boat, and built a great mill-
wheel at the back end on’t, and carted
the deacon’s bricks to market in that
thing. At one time we didn’t hear of
nothin’ else; and they do say the deacon

d|has made a fortune out on’t; some say

oa thousand, and some ten thou-
sand.”

“And the deacon says not more’n six
thousand,” added the squire.

“Well, it’s a sight of money, anyhow.”

“You ought to told me on’t.”

“You wouldn’t hear me, ’Bijah.”

“You ought to writ me about it.”

“Writ you! Sakes alive! It’s an aw-
ful long story; it used to take_me nigh
on to two hours to tell it, an’ I couldn’t
writ it down in a week. Besides, I didn’t
want to worry you when you was sick.”

He seemed to be satisfied that the story
would worry him; as it certainly did,
now that it had come to him.

“T meant to get even with the deacon
for the way he has abused me_ in takin’
in that Binkerton boy arter what he did
to me and Timothy. But I s’pose ’tain’t
no use now,” sighed the squire.

“If you’d only hear’n to me, I could
have told you.all about it,” added Miss
Tabitha. “But I think you hain’t got no
cause to find fault, for you can_sell the
Binkerton place for ten thousand dollars,

Ralph can’t help seein’ and feelin’
he has lost all his.” It
“No, he can’t,” said the  squlaiyomay
brightening up suddenly. “I’ve beam he epnes
good deal about the new mills UP™ *W mil]
town to-day.” eely t

- |toided.

“That Mr. Mawden, the agent of on Pe 8
Silver Lake Company, has been om n ans
na : reek 0 Me I
every day for a week to see you, ho. wri ‘Mr, M

if you'll take up with the offer in)
you. He said he should be over aga Noh
to-day.” he

“They can’t do nothin’ without “oy act
Binkerton place,” said the squire, | nie
ingly. +0 Ie

“ , Sf] nded f

No, they can’t; but Mr. Mawathe Merehan

got the refusal of all the land ne
river.”
“Sho! You don’t say so
the squire. 7
“Cap'n Meeker’s offered to 5
three thousand cash, and the @
the refusal of the deacon’s pastel Ming
eee Sone a acre, half cash,

‘tother half in stock.” r, lan
“There’s twenty acres in that fe i aes
and that’ll be four thousand ee as er wit
*Tain’t Oe i thirty dollars an ack’ "Ty in.
things were before,” ee I ,
“Phe deacon will make a good thing te a
out on’t. That ain’t all neitheh oot ’l don’
tinued Miss Tabitha, looking ve
and knowing. qa the piv
“What more is there on’t?” aske «ble of

ld Peck tha

squire. ¥ puild
0 hi
i wale: 4 anxio

as eaterial
y exclaime they” “my
for |
has |

ent

my
hy

“They say the company’s goin’.
two great brick mills, and W?
more’n a million bricks.” wha

The squire scowled, for he § Mered to
the spinster meant. lace for) “I knoy

“TI sha’n’t sell the Binkerton P ted BD,” re 1
no ten thousand dollars,” he probes ier kin’ pe
“They say bricks are worth te? nd the §
a thousand in Riverport now» hous!
deacon will make eight or teD t !
dollars supplyin’ on ’em.” ied the}

ian Nehinin: 2) how to Me NOoke
squire. “Do you s’pose I’m £0) pocket i Mr 174.
eae thousand dollars into ’Lijah § pe nt a”
arter what he’s done?” a pind Dbiect a

“T guess you can do as_ you or he ‘| ty ph,
to about it,” chuckled Miss Tabla 100! wlked cs

H Boat seas for the 1an@: liffonc
gasped the squire. i y bBe

“It will ten good speculation “Tilsi} a
deacon, if the company buil whetb hy went,

but I s’pose it depends on you
they build ’em or not.” ac0 gays
“T reckon it does; and the de ii
he’s go’n’ to take the Binkertop, fu :
partnership with him from r t t
the month so he’ll make tw? oy
thousand on the bricks. .Make
on him! Nothin’ but a boy!
“Folks think ’tain’t no ™
and proper for the deacon to
cause the boy has done most 4
ness.” i
“It sha’n’t be done! Iain te
have the deacon and that my
afore me. Binleby they’ll be W
I am, at this rate.” it, 8
“I think you ought to see to”
“T shall see to it.”
“Why, sakes alive, some
talkin’ about sendin’ the
Legislator this winter.”
“*Tijah?” gasped the
“Yes, "Lijah! Folks op
anything now but the deace” j
mills.” i ” addee ner ula” H
“T guess I can fix thing nis bre ead loyyg be
squire, horrified to think th@’ (, im°y [Mo ta
might be sent to the Legis ay thon er hoy md
of himself or even Squire Maj, pip ag
ete put up the pr
ton place.” 0
* But they say you offered f
place for ten thousand dollar up:
“Well, they didn’t take +t t0 ee
got the letter the agent on pubbey.
didn’t offer me ten thousa? in stor
he wanted to pay half oP 3. phe". 5
don’t want none of the stoc x ” h aod Nl Pla
thing may burst up in a yea nous roe ibe
“The company’s got money cash pow},
I guess they'll pay you Mawde? 4
Sakes alive! there’s | Ts
stoppin’ at the gate.
Squire Basswood we?
yard, as he generally di
came; it was a country
But he had made up ety - place,
his price for the Binker0' ioe, if
less he believed that this Pp ep
sisted upon if, wou
the schethies ret
Company. To the Ww.
Ewadity ‘Gnousand done ly t
mous sum. He was if the otn
amount besides his farm: pay
should be foolish enous)
cash it would double a «they C
to the squire, there was pan 83 i
probability that the a
anything of the kin 2
quate idea of the res e or 0 “atthe Rquy
engaged in the omer Tr
tent of their propose
Mr. Mawden was 4
gray hair and ba
shrewd businest
of the Silver L ‘
so exceedingly, prom

squire
don’t

ne

 

been instructed to ©
|

a

the Binkertn place on the best terms he|for a week McPincher ventured to sug-| “Very well, Mr. Mawden; you shall |

 

a

735

 

_GooD NEWwWS.

— ld obtain from Squire Basswood, and| gest that Tim had stolen the money,
that Without a day’s delay, if it could be| whereat the squire and his hopeful son

fYoided, |
and

uit |ylt may be added that the facility
yo 4}
uy in jew

+ the
here
snowy othe first dividend to the stockholders.
writ}, Yr. Mawden had carefully examined |
ygald he Ro
him that the proposed site of the mills |
_ the fis actually on navigable water for
musi ats drawing not over four feet. The
;toad upon which the company de- |
en's Wided for the transportation of the
yz the} *tchandise manufactured and the raw
€rial would not be finished for two
med iets, at least, and Mr. Mawden believed
&Y could: be carried cheaper by water
1 by rail, in flat-bottom steamers.
se considerations had influenced the
Mpany to hurry forward the enterprise.
Tv. Mawden introduced himself to the
Mite, but he did not talk or act like a
asters ian having full powers to close the
jlals Bain. What had been done was gone
re, 84 with, and the offer made by the |
ent in writ ing was repeated.
thing th Ldon’t want none of your stock,” said
con Pe Squire,
wise Ih on’t see anything now to prevent
iy stock from paying twenty per cent,
j they idends,” replied Mr. Mawden. “In a
ad Hom’ of years you would rather have the
puil we than the money. However, we are
wall? anxious to get rid of the stock, and
| Y wished to have a few persons in the
wha line interested in the company. You
yuted to sell for ten thousand dollars.”

 

th
| for
! has t
f bw
, and

 

8 for Tknow I did; but you didn’t take me
ted. g Woks replied the squire. “I’ve been
olay Kin’ the matter over, and find I didn’t
te bough for it. I’ve concluded to
usa? Mble my price.”
he | “no double it?” laughed the agent.
rt Bog erty thousand dollars cash; no

0 .
000 eb bat Mawden showed signs of leaving,
ind (bj € squire was as firm as a rock. His
mip pet was to punish his brother and
bes Iyyeh, rather than to make money. They
$00° ine 22 hour. The agent, in a very
the le terent manner, offered twelve, four-
oF isi Mas Sixteen thousand, but the squire
pile nmovable.

1 ‘
pethe I venty thousand cash is my price.
thal) Must decide it before night, or I

by» 9 up to thirty thousand to-mor-
W,
lw
ne)
Q
qh

ill see you again before night, if I
de to give it,” replied Mr. Mawden.
S agent drove off.

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
IMPORTANT NEGOTIATIONS,

 

| River bridge when he left the proprietor

 

R. MAWDEN was very much
vexed and disheartened when he
eft the squire, though he did
hot show it in his manner, for
tional ten thousand dollars de-
yo | fig for the Binkerton place amounted |
KS the Nona th dollars a share on the stock, and
t0 hy on 1an wiped out the prospective sav- |
iitern, brick. But even at this price the
pout ‘Ne thse was more promising in Pond-
& phe sia 4n in any other situation under |
pd P| f ,“tation.
q the Mn, t® agent was vexed so was the
ui ther Yong’ le was actually afraid his offer
pre oad Moni Le accepted, and that the deacon
ster thd
jyie iy J bons

Make ten, and, perhaps, fifteen
re ey at dollars out
i

 

Nine

of the company.

, ie é loved money, twenty thou-
1} tbe pytla Ollars for a worthless property
Be by they» Lot compensate him for his
{'¥2Mtmey® Prosperity. He was positively
D8 Mr. Mawden should re-
pers
ock:
ow

   
    

By and by some other
might be formed, who would
hatte pi. or even fifty thousand dollars
gd hawlace. Stranger things than this
ih Pught pened, and the deacon was weak
Wh leh to get sick again, if the present
Ite Prospect should fail him. The
48 determined not to sell even

ty thousand dollars.
ohne might return. He dreaded
tee t, and ordered Tim to harness
©. Forgetting all about the two
Ollars in the drawer of the

   

   

 
  
    
     
  
 
  
   
  
 
   
  
   
     
  
 
      
  

hy #
pf
Dp pe

  

  
  

      

Hire drove off ten miles toa place
® mo urg, where a man owed him
Wei the Syary? and did not return till late
el! douse ne: Mr. Mawden was not at
a Ike by? he had not been there. The
roma » ~eathed more easily. He went to
“DIB st lity, 28
dis st ght 8 ot up the next morning he
¥ 100" fla Ver ty is money. He looked in the
ze Heethorg See that it was safe. It was
10 a ont’ it was gone. The family had
; y haq Visiting in the afternoon; but
ise. Seen a strange man back of the
Na)
ty ri by Logg ire Was terribly cast down at
ft 9 dy ene He sent for McPincher, who
10 fend Nm ce working up the case. No one
Pe ‘ Ay tenns ad seen the strange man, and
he Veg Uy, 3,Shertff did not get ahead very

gal? fter following up the matter

| thirty thousand to-morrow,” laughed Mr,

 

 

were intensely indignant. ‘here was no|
proof that Tim was guilty, except that no

theapness with which the bricks for the} one else had been in the house in the}
mills could be obtained had added afternoon, when the money was probably
brgely to the promise of the enterprise, | taken; no one had seen the strange man
tthe six thousand dollars they expected | but him; and Tim’s answers and ex- |
Save on this article would be an item | planations were very imperfect and very |

as the;
for

as far

contradictory. This was
the case,

deputy could proceed in

xana, and Ralph had demonstrated | there was no clew in any other direction,

and it was dropped here.
When Squire Basswood recovered his
self-possession enough to think of the}

did not call upon him the day after his |
first visit. Then he wondered that he did
not call on the following day; and then, |
at the end of the month, that he had not |
called at all after the first time.

But the squire was satisfied, for he was |
determined that the deacon shouldn’t |
make ten or fifteen thousand dollars out |
of the Silver Lake Mills eee Te But
on the very first day of August he was
utterly astounded and confounded when
he learned that at least a hundred men|
were at work clearing up the Binkerton
place, and digging the foundations for a)
dam. In order to explain how all this|
came to pass we must return to the first
day of July.

Mr. Mawden was very much vexed and
disturbed when he left the squire, as we
have before stated. A hole in the pros-
pective dividends had been made. Mr.
Mawden was a man of dividends, and
as the agent of the Silver Lake Mills
Company it is doubtful whether dividends
were ever out of his head in business
hours. All that he said and did were to
produce dividends. To him dividends
were the chief end of man, though he
went to church every Sunday as regularly
as Deacon Basswood himself.

Mr. Mawden drove toward the Silver

of the Binkerton place. He was thinking
of dividends, and of the hole which that
ten thousand dollars would make in
them. It made no difference to him
where he went, for he only wanted time
to think. He had offered sixteen thou-
sand, and that swamped the saving on
bricks. The other four thousand the
squire asked would come out of the savy-
ings on freight. As he approached Dea-
con Basswood’s house he saw the Roxana
at the home landing-place. He was cu-
rious to know how many bales of cotton
or merchandise she would carry, and he
drove into the yard. The deacon and
Ralph were seated near the back door
talking about the great events of the day.

“Have you bought the Binkerton place,
Mr. Mawden?” asked the good man, when
they had exchanged the ordinary civili-
ties.
“Not yet, deacon. Your brother is a
hard customer, and has taken a leap,”
replied the agent.

“What's that?”

“He asks twenty thousand dollars for
the place to-day, and says it will be

Mawden, but the laugh was not the true
index of his feelings.

“Creation !” ejaculated the deacon.

“More than that, I offered him sixteen
thousand cash,” added the agent.

“And he won’t take it?” demanded the
astonished deacon.

“He says he won't.”

“Well, I declare!”

“He talked and acted just as though he
didn’t want to sell the place.”

“It isn’t good for anything except for a
water privilege.”

“What I offered was an extravagant
price. However, it’s all’done with now,”
added Mr. Mawden, with a look of forced
resignation. “It would be a fraud on the
company for me to pay twenty thousand,
and I won't do it. I will advise the
company to buy the Watergrove site in-
stead.”

Possibly the agent did not mean all
this. He may have suspected that the
deacon had some. influence over the
squire, and conducted himself accord-
ingly. Hetalked just as if the Silver
Lake Mills Company had suddenly and
violently come to anend. He was sorry,
but his duty to his associates was im-
perative.

He was sorry the town was to lose such
a grand enterprise, and sorry for those
who were to sell land and material for
the mills and boarding-houses; but they
must blame Squire Basswood, not him.

“What isthe most you will give, Mr.
Mawden?” asked the deacon, when the
agent had finished his solemn reflection
upon the winding up of the magnificent
scheme, so far as Pondville was con-
cerned.

“TI offered sixteen thousand for the
Binkerton place, cash,” replied Mr. Maw-
den. “I am sorry, now, I offered so
much; but I will not go back on myself.”

“How much in stock?” -

“Not a dollar more in stock than in
cash. Every share will be taken up this
week,”

 

 

 

have the place for sixteen thousand, half
cash and half stock, or all stock, if you
like.”

“T may have it?” queried the agent.

“You may have it.”

“But what have you to do with it,
deacon?”

“T act as the guardian of this boy,
Ralph Binkerton; and I will give you a
writing to that effect on the spot, if you
want it.”

“T have been informed that your brother
owns the property.”

“He thinks he does, but he don’t. I can
prove all that I say to your satisfaction,

|matter, he wondered that Mr. Mawden| Mr. Mawden.”

“T don’t understand it,” added the per-
plexed agent.

“TI will explain it all to you, but before
I say a I want you to promise not
to say a word to my brother, and not to
go near him about this business.”

“All I want
Binkerton place, and
anything else.”

“T can give you the title.”

“Then I won’t say a word to the squire,
or go near him. I have heard that you
and your brother don’t agree very well;
but shall not meddle with your quar-
rels.”

“Come into the house, and I will show
you the papers as I go along with the
story,” added the deacon, as he led the
way.

don’t care for

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

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this Spent olen, “Bend ws epictnrent are ae aaa we, have decided $9

| dead : EIFE SIZ CRAYON PORTRAIT FREROE

and we will make yous

maton Place
meake any change <2
Addren: mailto Pf

   

Te FO wish, ni

   
  

      

 

is a clear title to the]

 

exhibit it to your friends as asampleof our
nameand address on — of
cta o h, not in
e

 

 

VASELINE.

OR ONE DOLLAR sent us by mail, we will
- deliver, free of all charges, to any person in the
United States, all the following articles carefully
packed in a neat box:
One two ounce bottle of Pure Vaseline, 10 cts,

One two-ounce bottle Vaseline Pomade, 15 “
One jar of Vaseline Cold Cream ......., 15 “
One cake of Vaseline Camphor Ice....,. 19. *4

One cake of Vaseline Soap, unscentea.. me
One cake of Vaseline Soap, scented......
One two ounce bottle of White Vaseline

10
2 “

25 «
——$1.10
Or for stamps any single article at the price.

If you have occasion to use Vaseline in any form
be careful-to accept only genuine goods put up by
US In Original packages. A great many druggists
are trying to persuade buyers to take VASELINE
put up by them. Never yield to such persuasion,
as the article is an imitation without value,
and will not give you the result you expect.
A bottle of Blue Seal Vaseline is sold by all
druggists at ten cents.

Chesebrough M’f’g Co., 24 State St., New York.

p. N
TELEGRAPH Y.
Learners’ manual of complete instructions, with de-
scription of instruments. Gow to put up Telegraph
Lines, Electric Bells, Batteries, etc. By mall /ree.
J. H. BUNNELL & CO.; 76 Cortlandt St., New York,

The Young Elocutionist.

S. & S, Manual Library No. 15. Price 10ce.

This book explains the art of speaking gracefully and
well. Fully illustrated, showing gestures, positions
of hands and feet, selected recitations, deportment, etc.
It is not sufticient to be able to put your thoughts into
words ; the words must glow, and the meaning must
be aided by judicious gestures. This little book will,
therefore, be a valuable help. For sale by all news-
dealers, or will be sent post paid, upon receipt of price,
ten cents, by the publishers, th

STREET & SMITH,

31 Rose Street, New York.

The Young Gymnast.

S. &S. Manual Library No. 9. Price 10c.

A perfect instructor for the amateur and professional
gymnasium, and of incaleulable value to any one who
wishes to become a gymnast. Profusely illustrated.
Explains the mode of training, treatment of accidents,
gymnastic exercises of the arms, dumb-bells, Indian
clubs, trapeze, horizontal bar, and all sorts of tricks
and feats of gymnastics. For sale by all newsdealers,
or sent post paid, upon receipt of price, 10 cents, by
the publishers,

STREET & SMITH,

31 Rose Street, New York.

Three Books Given Away to Every Reader
RE E& z

SERIES “B”

BOOK PREMIUMS.

Commenced in No, 19 and Ended in No. 30

 

 

 

 

cower >

N the first page of Goop News, from
» Nos. 19 to 30, inclusive, appeared a
coupon. These coupons are num-
bered from 1 to 12, inclusive, and
by sending us the set complete we will send
you any three books in the ‘‘Goop Nrws”
Liprary that you may select from the fol-
lowing list.

There are no conditions in this premium
offer except to send us the complete set num-
bering from 1 to 12, inclusive. The first
twelve numbers of ‘“‘Goop News” Liprary
have been carefully selected from the entire
list of the well-known ‘‘Golden Library.”
Future issues of ‘“Goop News” Lrsrary will
be composed of original stories specially writ-
ten for us. All fiction published in this
library will deal with exciting incidents and
adventure, while entirely free from objec-
tionable sensationalism. We feel certain
that everybody will be pleased with them.

Make Your Own Selections.
“GOOD NEWS” LIBRARY

io. 1.—CAMP AND CANOE; or Cruise of
Now Ra Jackets in Florida, by St. George

Rathborne.
No. 2.—SENT ADRIFT; or, Around the
World on Eighty Cents, by Henry A. W heeler.
No. 3.—A YOUNG BLUE JACKET; or, Ene
listed for the War, by Robert E. Morse.
No. 4.—BOY_ CA RIBOU-H UNTERS3$ or,
Treasure-Trove of Hudson Bay,
or,
b'

JTOSS.

Ma ; S ALL ABOARD ; The Rival
Boat Clubs, by Weldon J. Cobb.

No. 6.—EVERY INCH A BOY; _or, An

‘Amateur Actor’s Adventures, by Johu Tulk-

oe WORKING HIS WAY; or, The

Brookville Boys’ Club, by Dwight Welden.

 

by Charles

No. 8.-TOM BROWN’S PLUCK; or, The
Fortunes of a Soldier Boy, by Major A. F.
Grant.

No. 9._BRIGHT AND EARLY; or, The
Boy Who Became a Detective, by John

Tulkinghorn.

No. 1u.—ONE CENT CAPITAL; or, A Young
Clerk’s Adventure, by Archie Van.

No. 11.-WESTWARD_ HO! or, The Cabin
in the Clearing, by Henry L. Black

No. 12.—_AFLOAT WITH A CIRCUS: ore
The Diamond-Seekers of Natal, by Henry

L. Black.

We will send any one of the above books,
postage free, on receipt of 10 cents.’ Address
“Goop News” Lrsrary (Street & Smith);
31 Rose Street, New York.

 

 

ly, livi
work, and use your infinence in ee
icture yaa °
with tho liksnow, *Rofortoasy Sankt Chi

 
   
  
 

    

  
      
  

         

 
 

736

Puzzle Corner.

[Original contributions solicited. Pleane oe not

send poe containing obsolete words.

“Puzz
2734. Tes ak
No, 1—DOUBLE PYRAMID.

1, A consonant,

2. A girl’s amos

8. A boy’s n

4. A evedaed president,

5. A consonant.

6. A metal.

7, A feather.

8. A city in Prussia.

Centrals name an early Roman PO

No. 2~ANAGRAMS.
Owlnas.

Troon.
. Sorry bunel.
Picot.
. Mtseoh.
. Tnamocles.,

No, 83—Cross WORD ENIGMA.
. In Pat, not in Joe.
. In Sam, not in Flo.
. In speak, not in talk.
. In swift, not in walk,
In love, not in kiss.
. In sir, not in miss.
In red, notin white,
. In dark, not in light.
In mirth, not in glee.
Whole a city in Holland will %

SU BP No pe

e Editor” Goop News, New York City, P. O. Box

HAMAKER.

JAQUES R. HAAS.

No. 4—LOGIGRIPH.

Whole I am a place where horses are kept,
Behead, and I am an article of furniture,
Again Iam a man of Biblicalfame, C. H. AIR.

No. 5—HIDDEN. PROVERB.

Take a word from each line and add these to-

gether to form the proverb.
1. He shot the deer.
2, Mary is going home.

3. Solomon was a very wise man,

4, Who killed the cat?

5. My home is Lear the sea,
6. It was right for him to be honest.
HELIOTROPE,.

No. 6— BEHEADINGS,
bi

Behead a fish, and leave an animal.

. Behead a vegetable and leave a vegetable.

. Behead a tool, and leave a road.
4. Behead part of a ship,

6.

No. Soe AOROSTIC.
. An English city,
a, A girl’s name.
3. A renowned general.

4, A machine for hoisting.

§.. A river.
6. A large city.

Primals and finals name two me
Mary O’GORMAN.

No, 8—HiIpDEN

and leave a tree.
. Behead a musical instrument, and leave a liquor.
Behead a garment, and leave a en

W. M.

CITIES.
1, Our stare. hired a new porter the other day,

9. Frank fortified his snow-castle.

8. When I call all, Egan ts included.
4. Charles tone of voice is very deep.
» 6. I was rich Monday and poor Tuesday.

6. The river is wash

g tons of land away.

EASY GUESSED,

No. 9—CHARADE.

sa ng boys do when studying,

y second boys do in school,

My third you have in your plays,

Complete you will tind to be my whole.

Answers to Pus in No, 45 Good News,

No, 1—

DD
Oo

No. 4

No. 5—

MysrtIo,

* A man of works and not of deeds,
Is like a garden full of weeds.

No. 8—
Cursed be the social lies that warp the truth.

No, 9—
T rat N
i,
M
ge

Sanotnas Nathan.
"y ae SOLVERS.

1, Jennie Thomas, James Hauflect,
nn, Howard ae Charles Norton, J.

se A Tonic, Rosa)

, Perey Willett, W

yen A /
oO naa . (Tomato Reversed.)

 

GooDp

4)

 

THE CONFLICT THAT DID NOT COME OFF.

AN 3 A
is = i)

NEWwW'S.

 

 

 

Short Stops.

A LIAR must have a good memory.

WE shall all succeed, Success Is the grave.
EVERYONE seems to have a record, good or bad.
Wuenre do all the great men live before they dle?

Way is a dog like a tree? Because both lose
their bark when dead.

MANY a man points out the road to success who
has never traveled it himself,

“I go through my work,” sald a needle to an idle
boy. “But not until you are hard pressed,” said
the idle boy to the needle.

WHEN a man gets caught in a trouble, like a pig
that is caught in a yard, he can never find the hole
through which he went in.

An Ohio boy swallowed four or five of the wheels
of an eight-day clock, and he has kept the ;whole
tamily “running” ever since the event,

OCCASIONALLY you find a man who {s so fond of
joining lodges, that he is a member of everything
else in the world except his family.

Tur Hankow tea trade is in a bad wa There
are over 100,000 chests in stock—20,000 of the first
crop, and about 80,000 of the second.

“WHAT constitutes a call to the ministry ?” Is a
que about to be discussed by the preachers of
ndlanapolis. Let’s say $5,000 a year.

THE more unsuecessful they are in their love
affairs, the deeper a man goes into politics, and
the further a woman goes into religion,

_ A Foor in a high station is like a man on the top
of a high mountain—everything appears small to
him, and he appears small to everybody.

THE reason people do not live as long now -
during the days ot the patriarchs is because
visions are so high that nobody can afford to
long at the current prices.

A BOARDING-HOUSE man has invented a new and

| cheap plan for boarding. One of his boarders h P- sh

notises the rest, and then eats a hearty meal,
hypnotised being satisfied from sympathy,

Tary tried to scare a man in Missouri by threat- k

ening to tar and feather him, but he replied:
“Come on with your old tar; ive been there six
times, and I’ve got a receipt for washing it off.”

A FARMER once lost a cow and set out to find her,
when he came to a sign board on which was print-
ed: ‘Manchester fourteen miles.” The farmer
read it and said: ‘‘Well, if a man chased her four-
teen miles he can keep her.”

ae, aid: you ask Mr, Hicks for the money I
told you to * yi

“e es, sir. ”

“What did a say ?”

‘Nothing. He jist kicked Jme {nto the street ;
that’s all he said.

“Ten, my dear, you have really made up your
mind to ini a Wikower ?” ” y ad P ?

“and aoe. he never talk to you about his first

eed OA ike Ni . It he did, I should at
once begin to tell him in aout my ti husband !”

 

Qur Mail Bag.

(ane on sublene of cis of general interest te are.
th in the Medical

ps Phd not advan alt ae News goes to

two weeks in advance of date of publication, and

fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Saat tes intended
this 8 or should be Mal

Box 2734, — York City.]
Reader (New York. yin itis a isthe toa branch.
V. M. B. (St. Louis, Mo.)—Miss Lotta Crabtree is the
actress 8 right name,

P. G. (New Market, N. H.)—Youcan buy the musical
aeiager from $1 up.

7 (Boston, Mass.)—We are ‘nd in need of
stories or yee sketches.

J. D. (Paterson, N. J.)—You can get the substance at
any electrical supply store.

EK. K. B. (Baltimore, Md. Pale declined as you
make use of absolete words and places.

J. P.M. (Providence, R. Barts 0 the or
1 Company, Chambers St., New York city

E. M. (New York. oe are obliged to decline your
nid offer relating to
E. E. B. (West MiAtiouek, ‘Pa. Send us $1.25 and we
will send Fon a six months’ su ner (26 numbers),
commencing with any number you desire.

K. B. C. Louisville, Ky.) ~The name does not_appear
in the New York di rea esuggest you advertise
in the principal New Y daily papers.

A. Hi. Darlington. Wis.)—Yes, a coin thrown into the
ocean would surely sink to the So tom, whether it be
gold, silver, or copper.

Inquisitive ( Pownpret, R. L.)—Write to the publishers
of the Guardian, 4 Liberty Square, ton, Mass., for
the desired information. It is an insurance paper.

ant F. M. Bt, Bracklyn, N. ¥.)—1. Inclose stamped envel-
- y is requested by mail. 2, Advertise-
Thants. ine not nserted in this column.

deal pede (Wanneta, Nel Neb. )—1. September 9, 1862
ro- | £¢ Tuesday. rite to the War Department at
igh Tue .C. 3, The coins have no premium.

Cietba'h (Maywood, mi J.)—Manuscript will be re-

turned on een of postage. We would like to en-
go you by Pu py I isdn the story, but we have all the
peer

ged L. D. (Malvern, Ps: )—1. If you have a ait ino for
the cat Beet eter ne rog e find i
healthier and profitab e than that of an prerame

eeper or clerk. 2. Writing and composition

gay issue oe De aig 2. There is no average w
y fiftee of in this country.
on the Soy and a what eis employed at.

Pe W. (Johnstown, Pa.)—The matter in your letter
ey eee our ast on rea wish yeu Ruccess
‘ou u A above @ average
size and oda £0 ny a fine athl
Cplisdalohia, # Pa.)—1. We not publish t
oe ean aka ne Rogeleer re thinks re
. we » is
fetter place for the purpose SO Ae et eee

N. R.S. (Allenton, N. C.)—1. March 27, xe, fell on
Tuesday. 2. The complaint that you an cannot do wi th-
sr Ror ke a at ma 70u fendi Som
ake an 0: con-
tained in its columns is well hie o " hore

8
nat all | Gade

titled down. and will

with es,
for ha e-

Negative (Malitex, X. §.)—1. Yes, you can commence 4

L. B. N. (Minneapolis, Minn.)—1. Puzzle
ania are accepted ee any | of our mean
they are suitable. 2. July 4th, 1882, i a ‘Tue
Population of New York city, trom ti ida ci
of 1 ne ,513,501. Municipal census Mt Novers
is 1,710,715. hat
A, B. 0. (San Francisco, Cal.)—To make wha é
termed sympathetic or secret ink, boil oxide of toons
in acetic acid. If a common salt be added, the w
becomes green when heated, but with nitre i “becomes
a pale rose color. By using a weak solution 0: sulphate to
of copper, the writing becomes blue when @ p
the vapor of ammonia.

@. R. (Chicago, Ti.)—1. In No. 23 Goop Nee ace
Talks With the Boys” you y will find ‘ull, p ay
garding Annapolis Naval School. he ee ri eee
cent of 1857, or 58, are only rose ‘air Face ¥ ue, oO
Writing fair. You omitted to — us your

and, therefore, we could not ,send premiums t0 a
Please attend to this at once.

E. V. (Port Townsend, Wash.)—1. Write to the,
intendent of the college for terms. 2. ;
inquire about, cannot be bonght for less
There is only one way to get in West
by a appointment through the President of the

canes or & ona 4. Fifteen hundred oe
ong ht to take you through college. 5. X

ting is f air.

A. Y. B, (Bast Portland, ‘Ore.)—1. The United
support thirty-two forts. ‘2. The Zulu. 3, The
you write about is a Sag tiary anion 4A
usually made with five poin e longest wi
the dictionary that is used to any extent is ‘uP:
phica = e orse is &

hicalness.” 6. Piebald horse i horse
colors. 7. Hamstrung horse is a horse
ing the tendons of the ham cut.

A. D. (Newark, N. J.)—1. The patel Sa in
lished in a few months. 2 eBan’s s used ‘wii
section are made of a Doasetan up in Hoop ile
out runners and used for coasting down §

in a wooden chute filled with cakes of ice.

is an Indian word meaning meat cut in thin
vested of fat, and dried in the sun. It is then

to powder, mixed with melted fat and dried fruit,
compressed into bags.

H. S. L. (Boston, Mass,)—1. About five foot f

inches, and weight 1i¢ pounds. 2. You write sf

business hand and ought not to bab a

ing it. 3. Not knowing your disposit

im possible Ln * west a suitable trade a on,

Talks Wit ys” will give you ¥ able ws

tion Mie Pec trades, professions and business nei ent, US
suits. 4. It 18a pleasure to answer questions ¢ ‘or

bs our readers. Write us again when you Wal

mation on any subject.

F. R. (Rico, Col.)—"The deed you performed
doubt. heroic and deservin praise formed a as
award you a Goop NEws fuinane Society dither
your lite was not deopardiee in any wer ne

e boy you kee out of the water 10
danger. ould award medals to all w:
we would give away on an average of five
The instructions and conditions printed in
announcement must be sent us in every awards
investigate very closely before making awards. —

Goldbeater (Reno, fa ae af A Seat Be
easiest method is to wet the
with lunar caustic - trate of
oer x int, but if pt inter

‘Transpa

nen slices (
ys

f we

how 3. tric
tential Ole. mrt has no ‘effect upon the whi
ae 1 brass or other imitstions,

tae + fi. Prenkiin, 0.)—1. The best
0 e pur at une

way of Boiling, with a ite

ing answer to

ess | You will find a good nas P ‘ms
fe have in our Hand Book

titled “The Modern Ho tories 2 3

Chess, Draughts. Solo-W Roker,

Fuckep ete., Se wae give Yo

pla: games y' re al e

Rewedealers or we will Ind it postpaid uot

price, 25 cen

W. J. (Philadel hia, Pa.)—In the so so-called ht
postas: age stam whet a stamp is “inverted on ie f

nd corner, it means the cares writte! jer
nomore. If the stamp is inverted on
hand corner, the wr ua jCeclares: om 4
stamp is in the center at th , it sign are
tive answer, and when at fi m it cnt
A siamp on the right-hand oor er ae .
pis question of love. On the

hate, e stamp on a line with the suf
o love ‘A letter without a , posiaae 8

ter is careless and invites

the letter to the dead-letter Peat a

ner (Los Angeles, Tex.)—1. The
maton ke for s topping, a runawa) noret an ya
time not pa cruel, is to
running knot around the horse’s neck
straps. To this slip noes ae attach a pair
may be thrown over t: ts ak ‘ome
at Bice. en th the nies ‘starts oie’
and tighten the cord around_ th

most furious horse oa  Shoked tae

will not kick or fall. 2 O 1 Goop, “Nas, at
fifty-two co i eentiforteiy ye
pai Ou reonips ‘of arty conte. 3 A waxchanse
"2 appear in its turn.

C. E. W. (Chicago, D11.)—1. The stories 723

about will not appear in D arr

should mecrive at niin, ‘and

quired 2 ore licants to enter

are examin under the civil ser

lativ: ty and fitness,

ers Yor r application flanks, £,

very desirable peters resort

of age shou four feet eleven in

All puzzles if suitable are i.
are not.

8,
ie

e you nee tion. 9
ist
Seat
800 tim Shakespeare, accord

receive a eae. _
other work. 8. There is toa in Ne
e most used. 11. a a fat do

Scholar (Brooklyn, N. Y.)—1. In
according i Cruden, the name 0:

clarke. ocoura uO freq eye 1 ve im ne
heaven, which is so

occurs about

ark
] Aries Baxi
Scandina Gain ;

oe
Shur Marwarian, Ocse Sw
German n, Gott ; Fren ‘ench iin 8
e name God in
go

 

Teta 6
of all goodnt

ee cniane over to be
—_—___—_-0- eo

 

obhletik aut cee Erne mate
iff to legtuti x anil writ rovably de me esos Oe tne Tne ro sh

oe errlosing he ae
would cost you about ten Auli,