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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, Washingtor, D.O.

We oecet eth nce ePncPnePeaeeh hgh tet ruth ee tue teetuetaetae i eteetast ae eater teeth el eee®

Vol. 2.

Pry00 00,00 ot ota et etch act esha gt tyh teh e%

$1 Rose Street.

STREET & SMITH, Publishers,
P. O. Box 2734.

BETWEEN TH

Entered as Second-class Matter at the Ne

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AP 8a e009, 0%. 0908, 08 08 08,

OF etn et eet eet een eht tee

LINES.

An Incident of the Morgan Raid into Ohio.

By Lieut. JAMES K. ORTON.

 

[(“BerwEEN rHE LINES” was commenced in No. 28.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
FRIENDS IN NEED,
HE excitement caused by the arrival

» of the messenger was so great that
for a few moments the prisoners

 

 

Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

 

especially detailed to care for them, and

nearly half

‘were secured to the stump of the tree.
During this time the messenger had _ re-

freshed himself in a certain degree from

the commissary’s stores, and was willing

to repeat all that he had heard, which

were unnoticed, save by the guard | was in substance as follows:

= =a

 

 

   

York, February ‘14 1891

Cd all he a es ed

an hour elapsed before they }/

w York, N. Y., Post-Office, February 14, 1891.

ee

FIVE CENTS PER Copy.
Subscription Price,

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OA pee tet eas ns tet tet tat Mal ae he era e Reman netaers

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2.50 per Year.

 

 

   
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
     

 

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SSS |

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

“We HAVE READ THE CIPHER,” SAID THE CAPTAIN, ‘AND THERE WILL BE NO ATTEMPT TO CARRY OUT THE SENTENCE OF THE COURT MARTIAL \”

in forgan had set out from Burkesville
of the State of Kentucky, on the second
mw ely: On the fourth he attacked the
wen 'Y fifth Michigan Volunteers, who
Bie guarding the bridge over Green
Ter? and crossed with a heavy loss.
ane thousand troops, under Generals
Oy nesutt and Judah, were watching the
Mberland River at various points, but

failed to prevent him from carrying out
his plans.
On the fifth he captured the garrison at
Lebanon, and then, without effective op-
osition marched to the Ohio River at
randenburg, warty on the morning of
the ninth, and capturing two steamboats.
One small gun-boat and the home
guards on the Indiana shore tried unsuc-

cessfully to prevent him from crossing,
but in vain.

Then he rode through Corydon, Salem,
Vienna, Lexington, Paris, Vernon, and
was evidently intending to attack Cin-
cinnati when the messenger was sent for
additional troops.

It was a raid unparalleled in audacity,
and had been so successful thus far that

no one could say how much damage
might be inflicted.

Behind him were many thousands of
men, all eager to try conclusions by force
of arms; but still he rode on, impressing
horses when those of his command were
disabled by hard travel, and levying con-
tributions from the country through
which he passed.

 
    
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
    
 
 
   
    
    
    
  
 
  
   
   
   
 
    
   
   
   
   
    
   
    
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
    
   
   
 
  
  
   
  
     
  
   
  
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
   
  
     
  
  
 
   
   
   
  
  
   
    
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
   
  
 
   
  
 
   

 

 

 

642

 

CGrooDpD

 

  

NEWS.

 

It was little wonder that those whom
the boys had met were eager to carry the
most valuable of their goods from the
track of the raid, and yet more surprising
that his active scouts had allowed any
one to escape.

All this the prisoners learned as they
were led by their guardsfrom one point
to another before being confined in the
vicinity of the stump again, and Tom
said, when they were pinioned once
more:

“The» dispatch we-brought has had
something todo with this daring raid,
and there is no hope for us. Immediately
the soldiers understand that we have
been instrumental in bringing this thing
about, even the colonel couldn’t save us.”

“T’se done gone fixed it,” Pete said, in a
tone of satisfaction. “When dey can
hang a ole nigger what’s wuf a tousan’
dollars you’se boun’ ter git out ob de
scrape.”

“Don’t be so sure of that, Pete,” Sam
replied. “You have acted like a man,
and done a good deal more than your duty
in trying to save our lives; but yet the
fact remains that we are guilty, and I be-
lieve we shall suffer together.”’

“De curnel carn’t do dat after wha’ I|

done tole him,” the old man replied ina
positive tone. “You’se are gwine home,
an’ 1 ’low dat bofe will tell Marse Pinck-
ney how I had fur ter stay.”

“Tf one goes all goes,” Sam replied, as
he took Pete’s hand. “You have been
more than a friend, and it will be some
satisfaction to Tom and I, to remember
how you offered your life for ours when
the final moment comes.”

“Dat’s a long way off for you, honey,”
Pete said, in a cheery tone, “an’ de ole
man don’ ’mount to much any how. Ob
course I was boun’ to say dat I’d fetch a
big price, so’s he wouldn’t count you;
but I ain’t wuff half so much as Marse
Pinckney paid. Yer uncle knows what a
nigger’ll sell fur, an’ I’se no ’count
sence de rheumatiz took hole so pow’ ful.”

“Tt won’t do any good to reckon your
value as a slave,” Tom replied, also tak-
ing the old man by the hand. “This is a

uestion of punishment for what has been
eae and we shall be together to the
last. Your efforts to save us at the ex-
pense of your own life will prove useless.”

“Den I’se gwine ter see dat curnel
ergin, an’ tell him once more how de
matter cum erbout.”

“You won’t have the chance, Pete; but
Sam and I know what you would have
done, and it is very sweet to realize that,
when it seems as if every one but you had
forsaken us.”

During this conversation the encamp-
ment had been in a state of the highest
excitement, and now along train drew
up under guidance of the officer of the
day, causing every one to rush forward
in the wild desire to gain additional in-
formation.

It was only a party of wounded, sent
from some camp near the river, that they
might be out of harm’s way in case an
engagement ensued, and the boys had no
idea that they could be in any way bene-
fited by the new comers, until an officer
on crutches approached, despite the re-
monstrances of the guard, and asked:

“Aren’t you the same boys who brought
Lieutenant Seymour to the Curtis house
after we believed him dead?”

“Yes, and you are the officer whom we
saw at the door, when the nurses came
down to carry him into the building,”
Sam replied. ’

“Since then you have been sentenced to
be hanged as spies?”

“We hadn’t heard that part of it, but
could well fancy what would be the _ re-
sult of the trial,” and Sam spoke like
one in a dream, for although he had ex-
pected the verdict, it came upon both him
and Tom like a lightning bolt from a
cloudless sky.

“Then I am more than sorry to have
broken the news in such a brutal man-
ner; but [ wanted to assure you that you
were not without friends. Seymour is
here; Ihave just left him, and came to
say that we shall do everything in our
power to save you. None of our regiment
will ever believe you to be spies in the
ordinary acceptation of the term.”

“Dey’s only chillun, an’ wouldn’t harm
a fly,” Pete cried, emphatically.

“We are glad you believe us innocent,”
Tom said, as the officer clasped him by
the hand. “This poor old colored man
would have sacrificed himself to save us;
but it has been in vain, and [I do not
think any one can help us.”

“Tell me the whole story, and see what
Seymour and I can do.”

“We have already explained everything
to the colonel; but if you care to hear it
we have nothing else to do,” and Tom,
aided now and then by Sam, gave a de-
tailed account of all that had happened to
them since the time they started out to
see what the home guard from Madison
were doing. ;

“And you have no idea how to read the
cipher?” :

“T have tried several times, and Lieu-
tenant Seymour gave mie « suggestion j

but all in vain”

  

The officer was silent for a moment,
and then he said, earnestly:

“Although you-are sentenced to be
hanged as spies at sunrise to-morrow, I
believe we have influence enough to get
the execution postponed until an appeal

President. If there is anything more you
can tell me, do not hesitate to speak
freely, for not only I, but all the regi-
ment are your friends because of what
you did on the night and day following
the skirmish in the road.”

“You can fancy how freely we would
speak, now that there is nothing to be
gained by remaining silent,” Tom replied ;
“but we have told everything. If it was
to save our lives, which we shall lose in
the morning, not another word could. be
said in our behalf.”

“Don’t despair; I will see you again.”

The man was gone’before either of the
condemned could ask him a question, and
Sam said, in a voice trembling with emo-
tion :

“The officer means well; but it is im-
possible he can help us if the sentence

who might have escaped, are in the same
trouble:”

“I’se gwine ter see dat curnel ergin,
kase ——”

He was interrupted’ by several men,
who were crippled in some form, as they
asked the guards:

“Where are the boys you. fellows say
are spies?”

“Over there by the stump.”

“Well, don’t make any mistake about
this thing. They lugged one of our lieu-
tenant’s on a litter all nightwand we are
here to prove it.”

“T guess there’s no need of your doin’
that, seein’s how the jig is up; but I tell
you that nigger isa dandy. He tried to
take all the blame on his own shoulders,
an’ would have been hung in their place,
if the boys hadn’t contradicted him.”

“Well, I want to see ’em.”

“Tt’s against the orders.”

“Supposen it is, there’s a lot of us fel-
lers who are goin’ to tell them kids what
we think of ’em.”

No one can say whether the guard tried
to prevent the men or not; but at all
events a dozen or more crowded around
the prisoners, every one of whom insisted
on shaking each by the hand heartily,
and praising them for the kindness done
to their favorite officer.

Those who were condemned to die the
death of spies were holding an impromptu
levee, despite all the rules of war, while
a portion of the troops were making ready
for a hurried’ march, and at least five
hundred men had left the encampment
when the officer on crutches came up hur-
riedly, and asked Tom:

“Where were you to carry the cipher
dispatch?”

“T don’t know, but Pete can tell.”

“Tt was to Burkesville, massa,” the
old man replied.

“Were you told to deliver it to General
Morgan ?”’

“Yes, sah.”

“You came from aman named Pinck-
ney?”

“Yes, sah.”

“What town did you start from?”

“Tt wasn’t any town, sah; but near de
Kentuck Ribber, on dis side ob de Ohio.”

“That will do,” the officer replied.
“One of those names should be the key to

you the solution. “ That done, and if the
despatch can be of any service just now,
I promise that the sentence of the court
martial shall not be carried into effect.”

CHAPTER XXVIII.
wn... THE SOLUTION.

SP HEN the crippled captain hob-
WY bled off as if every moment was
recious, the prisoners were not
3 ett alone, for the men who had

on remaining to show their sympathy,

that the sentence was unjust.

They not only talked freely with the
boys and Pete, but to such soldiers be-
longing to this particular regiment as
would listen to them, and the result was
that very many who, a few moments pre-
vious, were convinced the punishment. of
death should be inflicted, began to think
there was more law than justice in the
case.

In order to prevent their minds from
dwelling upon the horrors of the situation,
half an hundred gathered around witli
words of encouragement, assuring the un-
happy prisoners that some means of sav
ing them should be devised, and two or
three of the new-comers hinted at an op-
portunity of escape which would soon be
arranged,

did for the lfeufenant,” one of the soldiers

 

lows can be spjes, I'd like to know it.”
'Wedon't! Wedon’ti” A domon shouted,

the cipher, and in an hour I will bring |

for mercy has been forwarded to the)

 

 

 

 

forced their way past the guards insisted | tis shall be found.

and repeat over and over again the belief | Sam interrupted,

 

}
f
|

 

“We'll take good care the sentence sha’n’t
be carried out until word can be sent to
the President.”

“Tf Mrs. Curtis was here she could tell
the colonel that we did no spying, and
had nothing todo with the bushwhackers,
except to pe robbed, from the time we
were obliged to stay on the battle-field
until we left her near Shelbyville,” Tom

| said, loud enough for all to hear.

“Are you the fellows who jumped in so
lively to help the wounded at the skir-
mish when our men were driven back?”
some one asked.

“Yes, and she has gota letter from the
|surgeons telling what was done. They
= it might aid.us.in.case_we met

soldiers from either side.”

“One of our boys says you. crossed be-
tween the lines to get water.”

“It was Sam who did that. The sur-
geons ordered him not to go; but the
poor fellows were in such distress that he
went in spite of them, and filled every
canteen he could find.”

“Three cheers for Sam!” a soldier
| shouted, and every one gave them witha

 

has been spoken. Pete, old man, you did | will.
your best, and the result is that you, |

“Let’s go and tell the colonel what we
know about that day’s work,” one of the
party suggested, and there was,no lack of
volunteers.

Three of the new-comers were selected,

and, as they started toward the tent, a
second voice cried:
_ “Why can’t Mrs. Curtis be found?, She
would surely come here to aid those who
stuck by her. We can get a couple of the
horses taken from the bushwhackers, and
be back by to-morrow night. I'll ‘go, for
one.”

“T’ll be the second, if the boys can tell
us how to find her.”

Tom, Sam, and Pete explained in detail
where they last saw the widow, and
where she was going, the men listening
intently, and when the directions had
been given the soldier who made the
proposition said:

“1 know the place to a dot. Come on,
Andy, we'll be off before any one knows
what we’re about.”

“Ain’t you going to ask for leave of ab-
sence?”

“Not a bit of it, for we might be re-

‘fused. Two or three days in the guard-

house won’t hurt me, if<any good can be
accomplished.” ™ :

The two walked swiftly away, some of
their companions following them to aid
in getting past the pickets, and Tom had
just turned to speak with Pete, who ap-
peared more downhearted than at any
time since the perilous journey was be-
gun, when the officer on crutches came
from the colonel’s tent in a high state of
excitement.

“We have read the cipher,” he said, ina
low tone, “and, what is better news for
you, there will be no attempt to carry out
the sentence of the court martial until
the whole matter can be looked into.”

“What was the dispatch about?” Sam
asked, ’

“That I will tell you later, and it may
be interesting to know how it was solved.
Come with me to the colonel once more,
and I fancy we can give you better ac-
commodations than these.”

The prisoners arose to their feet, assisted
by those who were nearest, and the guard
followed as a matter of course; but the
crippled members of Lieutenant Sey-
mour’s regiment crowded around so
closely that the soldiers on duty were
forced to fall to the rear.

This visit was decidedly more agreeable
than the others had been.

When the boys and Pete entered the
tent the colonel ordered that the ropes be
taken from their arms, and said, ina tone
unlike what he had previously used:

“Tam glad to say that more favorable

reports have been heard concerning you,
and I am very sorry the information did
not reach me earlier. The sentence of
the court has heen. pronounced; but it
may be reversed, if we can prove the
truth of the other statements. Mrs. Cur-
”
“Two men have just gone after her,”
not thinking he was
telling anything which should have re-
mained a secret.

“Did they have leave of. absence?” the
colonel asked, sharply.

“T don’t know, sir,” Sam replied, stam-
meringly.

“Have them brought here at once,” was
the stern command to the orderly. “The
men have been in the service long enough
to understand that such a _ proceeding
might count as desertion.”

Sam looked as he felt, thoroughly dis-
tressed; but the words could not be re-
called, and the prisoners who had caused
trouble for those who would -have aided
them. were.forced to wait until the mien
were brought back under guard,

“Tt was your intention to leave the
lines. without. permission?”’ the colonel

“Every man here has heard what you | asked, sternly.

“Yos, sir. We were afraid that it would

said, “and if they still think such fel-|not be granted, and were willirig to be

| punished, if these boys and the old man

aould ba paved,” one of the men replied,

 

promptly. “Why, colonel, they risked
their lives to help some of our boys who
were wounded, and remained on the field
when an opportunity was given to leave,
simply to aid those who could not aid
themselves. After such work as that ’m
agreeable to staying in the guard-house

the remainder of my time of service to do

them a good turn.”

“The motive has nothing to do with
your defiance of discipline and disregard
of duty as a soldier, and cannot be passed
over in silence. However, you may now
do with my permission what you intended
to do without it, and when you return re-
port to me for punishment. Here is @
pa and come back as soon as possi-
le.

The culprits were'too much surprised to
even thank the colonel; but when they
were on the outside a loud, prolonged
cheering in honor of the commander told
pat the incident had been given in de-
tall.

When the uproar ceased the colonel
said to his prisoners:

“Thanks to Captain Henley’s ingenuitys
the dispatch has been read, and it could
not have fallen into our hands at a bet-
ter time, therefore you have worked no
harm to the Federal cause in this one par-
ticular; but, instead, have been the uD-
willing means of giving us valuable infor-
mation.”

Sam and Pete looked disappointed ; bub
Tom was delighted; he had been true‘t?
his friends, and the army he hoped woul
win had not received injury through him.

“If you promise faithfully to make ne
attempt at escape I will turn you over to
Captain Henley. He proposes to be re-
sponsible for you, and will see that every
possible thing be done for your comfort,

“IT give my word to do exactly as he
commands,” om replied, and Pete said:

“You’se suah ob de ole nigger, Mass@
Curnel, kase he’s ’greeable to whatsoebbet
you’se wants ter do wid him so’s de chil-
lun kin go home.”

“Remain here quietly, and when it has
been proven that your story is correct 1
every particular I will take it upon MY-
self to see that the sentence is reverse@s
or, if that cannot be done, that a pardon
be granted.” .

Before Sam could give his promise
trooper entered as if ready for a journeys
and, saluting, said:

“T have got the best horse I could find,
sir, and unless appearances are very de-
ceitful he can do forty miles before sai
rise.” d
“Very well. Take this package accor,
ing to the instructions already given, 42
return at once, in order that I may kno
it has been delivered. Don’t spare eh
animal, and remember that very mT
depends on your getting through +}
safety.” he

With another salute the soldier left the
tent, and Tom felt positive he was carty
ing the solution to the cipher dispateb.

“It only remains for you to give w

: ae 3 ‘< all be 4%:
your word that no escape shall iale

tempted,” the colonel said, as he tur
toward Sam. ry
“T promise faithfully, sir; but am 80?
the solution of the figures has been foun
for I had rather the sentence be cart! a
into execution than have any harm Cor or
to the cause. It’s different with Tom, |.

he would have handed them over ie not
first Federal officer we saw, if it ha

been for getting me into trouble.”

“T begin to believe you are bot 1 8
honest boys,” the colonel said, afte a
pause. “The time will come wher Jot
will be glad the dispatch was reaes— oy,
I do not propose to give any lecture. with
aré to share the captain’s tent. G° ken
him, and remember that I have ta
your word of honor instead of
you under guard.” home;

“Couldn’t you’se let ’em £0 right
Massa Curnel? Ole Pete will stick n’ de
by till you’se ready to hang him, I pad
chilluns’ mammys are feelin’ pow oe dey
kase dey don’ know wha’s de matte
don’ cum back.” . pub

“That can’t be done, my mate be-
everything will be straightened 0
fore long. You may go now. « fol-

The captain led the way, the boys ed
lowing in a sort of bewildermen” tion.
by the sudden change in their situa

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

—_—_~<+—-e-—
AN ABSURD TRICK.

4 ac

You take six pieces of paper pand,
three of them on the back of yon plow
and, as a preliminary opera 10 nys
them away with an eH of great u :
informing your audience ab in to
time that ‘you are about to exif,
them some new kind of magnebisr™ your
placing the other three pieces ee piece?
hand, you say, “Which of the thi nail
do the company desire shall rem Ww he?
my hand when IT blow on them ‘the fore:
one has been selected, you eres t and
finger of your other hand apo psurdity
blow the other pieces away, The ® yom 6
of this mode of solving this «pt
aure to oreate mtioh amuserent

 

 

 

 

leaving

 
BES

es

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

CooynD NEWS.

  

643

 

White-Horse Fred:
JULIAN AMONG THE OUTLAWS.

By HARRY CASTLEMON,

Author of «A Sailor in Spite of Himself,” «True to
his Colors,” ‘Frank, the Young Naturalist,”
“Frank in the Woods,” ‘‘The Steel Horse,”
“Frank on the Mountains,” ‘“The Rod and Gun
Club,” “Snowed Up,” ‘‘Guy Harris,” etc,

eater Binet
[“Wxirr-Horsk FRED” was commenced in No, 35
Rumbers can be obtained of all News Agents. ]

~~

CHAPTER XIV.
SANDERS TELLS HIS STORY.

ULIAN’S visitor was the man San-
f ders. He recognized him by the
handkerchief that was tied over his
head. If he had cume there to re-
lease him would it not be sufficient proof
hat he was really the friend he professed
e?
“Julian!” exclaimed the man, in a low
but excited tone of voice.
Tam here!” replied the prisoner, so
Blaioyee that he could scarcely speak
41n y.
“Wal, come out o’ that, You needn’t
Stay thar no longer.”
_lcan’t go up there—I am tied.”
Are you? Then I’ll soon be down to
turn you loose.”
ighting another match, to make sure
the Way was clear below him, Sanders
Yawled through the opening in the roof,
and hanging by his hands, dropped to the
8found, A knife which he drew from his
Pocket made quick work with the pris-
me 8 bonds, and in a few seconds he was
e,

 

“

. How came you here?” Julian asked of
his deliverer, after he had taken a few
Urns around the smoke-house to relieve
‘Scramped limbs. “I left you ten miles
wn the river fast asleep on board the
flat-boat.”
Not much; I wasn’t asleep,” replied
Sanders, with a laugh. “I seed every-
Ig that happened. But we hain’t got
i time to talk. . Be thar any men in the
ouse?”
th No. Jake and Tom are alone with
eit mother.”
hem boys? If I had known that, you
Wouldn’t have been brought in here.
Climb up on my shoulders now, and
craw] out. ”
ot having entirely recovered from the
effects of his long ride in his wet clothes,
Wian was not very strong or active, but
after some difficulty he succeeded in
Mounting upon Sanders’ broad shoulders,
i rawing himself up to the opening
N the roof, he crawled through and drop-
to the ground. The man climbed up
® logs and followed him, and when he
nee more stood by Julian’s side he gave
erance, with the first words he spoke,
th the very thoughts that were passing
Tough the boy’s mind. ,
of {1 reckon that if I doa few more things
thact® kind you will be willin’ to b’lieve
Jj am anything but an enemy to you,
On't you?” he asked.
tay, ou have rendered me a most impor-
e i Service,” answered the boy, guard-
it y, “and Iam very grateful to you for
yo I only wish I was as well satisfied of
thie friendship, and _the truth of some
0 tes you told me this morning, as Iam!
T © interest you somehow take in me.
an wanot understand why you, who are
Belp eee stranger to me, should put your-
2,69 So much trouble to assist me.”
‘Sa ain’t no stranger to you,” replied
y nders, earnestly. “I tell you I knowed
“Se and your brother afore either of you
y Wd walk. You were stole away from
ee home by Dick Mortimer. Your
Pa pave just found out whar you a
ent me arter you. You’re goin’ to
Start for the atria now. hain’t you?”
«+,2m, and in less than five minutes.”
neew @!, I’m goin’ the same way. You
you's t travel in my company unless
Rlaa a mind to, but I’d be powerful
Wa to have you. Can show you the
aloy a St. Joe anyhow, an’ as we go
hain’: will tell you about the folks you
Tuli Seed fur so many years.
and. lan leaned against the smoke-house
Was t ought over this proposition. It
that } very fair one, and he could not see
by . le would place himself inany danger
put evePting it. He was almost ready to
ang tire faith in his new acquaintance, |
him to_believe everything he had told |
Sana He wanted to believe it, and if
Hours 1° had made his appearance a few
Mr N efore—prior to his meeting with
Tortimer—Julian would have placed |

»

 

He at last decided that he would ac-
cept the offer of this man’s guidance as
far as St. Joseph, and that when he
reached that point he would decide upon
his future movements. In the meantime
he would watch his companion closely,
and leave him at the very first sign of
treachery. This determination he com-
municated to Sanders, who seemed to be
immensely delighted by it.

“Tam monstrous glad to hear you say
it,” said he.” “And I’ll tell you what’s a
fact; if you go with me as fur as St. Joe,
you will go all the rest of the way with
me.”

Julian did not quite like the tone in
which these words were spoken, for it
made him feel that there was more in
them than he could understand; and had
there been light enough for him to see
the expression the man’s face wore at that
moment the opinion would have been
confirmed.

“Whar you goin’ now?” asked Sanders,
as Julian moved toward the cabin.

“Jake and Tom have some of my prop-
erty in their possession,” was the reply;

| “a, suit of clothes, a rifle, and a pair of
|blankets. I must have them before I
n ”

start.

“’Tain’t wuth while,” said Sanders.
“You've got money; buy more.”

“T may need the little I have for other
purposes when I get out on the plains.”

“Sho! You’ll find more out thar than
you ever dreamed of. You can walk up a
ravine a little way from your father’s
ranch an’ pick up nuggets of gold as big
as you can tote.”

“But I don’t know how long it will be,
or what I shall be obliged to pass through,
before I get there,” replied Julian. “An-
other thing, Jack Bowles and his boys
shall not have the satisfaction of using
anything that belongs to me.”

“Wal, go ahead, then, if you’re so sot
onto it, an’ I’ll be close by to lend a hand
if you get into trouble.”

While this conversation was being car-
ried on Julian and his companion were
walking toward the cabin, and now they
were close beside it. The boy at once
pushed open the door and entered, while
Sanders took his stand upon the steps
where he could see all that went on.

There was a roaring fire on the hearth,
and by the aid of the light it threw out
Julian could distinguish every object in
the cabin.

Almost the first thing his eyes rested
upon were the clothes of which he had
been robbed, spread out on a couple of
nail-kegs to dry. His rifle stood beside
the bed in which Jake and Tom lay fast
asleep, and his powder-horn and bullet-
pouch hung from a nail over their heads,
Walking across the floor with his ordinary
step, and without taking the least pains
to avoid arousing the occupants of the
cabin, Julian took the horn and pouch
down from the nail, and while slinging
them over his shoulder discovered the
other articles of which he was in search—
his blankets, which were snugly tucked
around the shoulders of the sleeping
brothers.

“You are very good to yourselves, are
you not?” said Julian, aloud. “You leave
me to freeze in the smoke-house, and
make use of my property to keep your-
selves warm. You'll sleep colder for the
rest of the night.”

As he said this he jerked the blankets
off the bed. The movement awoke Tom
Bowles who started up in alarm, and was
greatly amazed to see his prisoner stand-
ing unbound beside his bed.

“Ye, Julian!” he exclaimed, as soon as
he found his tongue.

“That’s just what’s the matter!” re-
plied our hero.

“How come ye outen that ar smoke-
house?”

“T crawled out.”

“Yell crawl back agin mighty sudden,
I tell ye,” replied Tom, seizing his
brother by the shoulder. “Wake up here,
Jake.”

“Hold on!” said Julian, lifting. his re-
covered rifle over Tom’s head. “No
noise, now.”

Tf Tom was alarmed by this movement
on the part of vulian, he was still more
terrified when he saw a head and a pair
of broad shoulders thrust in at the door,
and a clenched hand, which looked as
though it might have knocked down an
ox, shaken threateningly at him. He
understood the gesture and took his hand
off his brother’s shoulder.

“Good-by, Tom,” said Julian, shoulder-
ing his rifle and gathering his clothes and
blankets under his arm. “I am_ sorry
that Iam in so great a hurry, for I have
several little accounts against you and
Jake that I should like to settle up be-
fore I go. Give my very kindest regards

perimited confidence in him. But his ex-|to your father when he returns, and be
Mage’ with Jack Bowles’ guest had | sure and follow the excellent advice your

¢ ay him timid and suspicious, — ie mother gave you a while ago in my hear-
self nders did not ask him to give him-| ing.

See Up to his guidance and control, but |

So saying Julian left the cabin, and

Willies satisfied to wait until he was|Sanders slammed the door after him.
a

Vulia

& to do so of his own free will; and | Followed by his ally, the boy walked

len 0 told himself that that was a good ;toward the corn-crib, and while he was

ast ems!

pulling off Tom’s tattered garments and

 

putting on his own, which were now dry
and comfortable, he saw the door of the
cabin opened and the heads of Mrs.
Bowles and her two sons thrust cautious-
ly out. But they did not speak to him
or venture beyond the threshold. They
peered into the darkness a moment and
then closed and fastened the door; and
that was the last Julian ever saw of them.

Billy, proving more tractable than on a
former occasion, was captured and sad-
died without difficulty. In two hours
more Julian’s camp on the bluff was
again occupied. The brush shanty which
Jack Bowles had pulled down had been
restored to an upright position; a fire
was burning brightly before it; Billy was
standing hitched toa tree close by; and
Julian, with his saddle under his head
for a pillow, and the tin box containing
his money safely stowed away in his
pocket, lay stretched out on one of the
blankets, while Sanders reclined upon
the other smoking his pipe. The man
had been relating how he had hidden be-
hind the corn-crib and overheard Jack
Bowles’ plans concerning Julian, and
thus been able to take measures to defeat
them. He had been a witness to every-
thing that happened on board the flat-
boat. He had seen Julian go overboard,
and knowing that Jake and Tom were
close by waiting to pick him up, he had
clambered down into the yawl, as soon
as he saw an opportunity to do so with-
out attracting the attention of any one
of the flat-boat’s crew, and pushed off to
Julian’s assistance. His story was fol-
lowed by a long pause, which was broken
by our hero, who said:

“Tam ready to hear what you have to
tell me about my parents, You say they
are both alive?”

“Both of ‘em,” replied Sanders.

“How does my father look?”

“Jest as nateral as life—enough like
you tobe your brother, if it wasn’t for
his gray har an’ mustache. He's a tall,
broad-shouldered man, has an eye like an
eagle’s, an’ is the best hossman an’ rifle-
shot in the West. He’s awful rich, too;
I don’t b’lieve he knows how much he’s
wuth. You see, your mother—an’ she’s a
lady, you bet—is a Spanish woman. Her
father, long years ago,” Sanders went on
hurriedly, as if he did not intend to al-
low his -listener any time to ask ques-
tions, “took it into his ole head that he
wanted to be away from. everybody, an’
so he located out thar in the mountains.
He allers was rich, but when he got out

thar he found himself richer’n ever. Thar :

was gold all around him. He couldn’t
walk without steppin’ onto it, an’ he
picked it up by cart-loads. Your father,
who was out thar sojerin’, resigned his
commission in the army an’ married his
darter; an’, in course, when the ole man

died he came into possession of all his |

gold dust. But thar were some people
about who didn’t want him to keep it.
The only kin folks your mother had after
her father died were a brother an’ cousin,
an’ you see if everybody else had been
out of the way, all the money would have
fell to her brother. They ain’t the hon-
estest fellers in the world, her kin folks
ain’t, I must say. They’re the wust sort
of gamblers, bein’ monstrous fond of
three-card monte, an’ they are even sus-
picioned of doin’ things a heap sight
wuss than that; an’ since your father an’
his family wouldn’t die an’ leave them to
take charge of the money, they laid a
plan to hurry up matters an’ divide the
plunder between them. But all the harm
they done was to steal you ’way from
home, an’ that didn’t do ’em no good
’cause I’ve found you agin.”

“You say that Dick Mortimer is the
man who kidnapped me?” asked Julian,
when Sanders paused.

“Sartin, I do.”

“And that he
mother’s?”

“Them’s my very words.”

“Well, now, is he her brother or her
cousin?”

“He’s her brother.”

“Her own brother?”

“In course.”

“How can that be? My mother’s name
wasn’t Mortimer before she was married,
was it?”

“Eh?” exclaimed Sanders, somewhat
disconcerted by this question. “Oh, no;
in course not. Her name was Cordova,
an’ Dick’s her cousin.” :

“Then how does it come that his name
is Mortimer?”

“Bh? I’m blessed if I know. I guess
it jest happened so. An’ your brother's
alive an’ all right, too. Now he’s a boy,
he is. You’re mighty right. His name’s
Fred. Won’t he make things lively for
you though when you get out thar? You

ain’t goin’ to sleep, be you?”

“Yes, lam,” replied Julian, rearrang-
ing his blanket and resting his head on
his hard pillow, “I have scarcely closed
my eyes during the past forty-eight
hours, and I begin to feel the need of rest.
We have a long journey to make to-mor-
tow, you know. Good night.”

Sanders looked sharply at the boy, and
settled hack an hie blanket, muttering:

is a relative of my

 

“Did I tell him anything out of the
way, I wonder? I amafraid I got that
brother an’ cousin business mixed up a
trifle too much. I said jest what Reg-
inald told me to say as nigh as I pane
If Ican only manage to keep him with
me till we reach St. Joe, Iam all right.
It will make a rich man of me.”

“It is no use to waste time in listening
to this fellow and building hopes on what
he says,” thought Julian, throwing his
arm over his head, and watching his com-
panion through his half-closed eyes “He
repeated his story as if he had learned it
by heart, and some portions of it didn’t
hold together. I wish he would take off
that handkerchief and give me a fair
view of his face. Who is he, and why
did he come here? My father never sent
him, for, if he is alive and well, and
knows where I am, he would have come
himself if he wanted to have me near
him. He is no friend of Dick Mortimer,
for he is working against him. Is he up
to some trick of his own, or is he em-
ployed by somebody? I’l) not go to sleep,
for I am afraid of him. I can’t well
avoid traveling in his company as far as
St. Joseph, but when I get there I will
have no more to do with him.”

For a short while Julian was wakeful
enough. His recent excitement and ad-
ventures, and his speculations concerning
the future, kept his brain busy and ban-
ished sleep. But at last his thoughts be-
came confused, his eyelids grew heavy,
and in a few minutes more’ he was in the
land of dreams

 

CHAPTER XV.

THE JOURNEY COMMENCED.
fe HEN Julian opened his eyes
AW I again the sun was rising. He

: started up with an exclamation
© which was repeated as soon as
he was fairly awake. His first thought
was of hiscompanion. He was gone. A
glance about the camp showed him that
something else was also missing—his
rifle, which he had placed under the eaves
of the cabin close at hand and ready for
use in case of emergency. A strange feel-
ing came over Julian, and it was some
minutes before he could muster up cour-
age enough to place his hand upon the
breast of his jacket in which he carried
his box of money. But he did it at last,
and was immensely relieved to find that
his box was safe. He removed the lid,
and saw that its contents had not been
disturbed.

While he was trying to find some ex-
planation for his companion’s absence,
and wondering why, if he had deserted
him and stolen his gun, he had not taken
the money also, Sanders appeared in
sight over the brow of the bluft with
Julian’s rifle on his shoulder and several
squirrels in his hand, which he had shot
for their breakfast. The boy said noth-
ing about the fright his absence had oc-
casioned him, but assisted him in cook-
ing and eating the squirrels, telling him-
self the while that whatever else Sanders
might be he was not a thief. It was
plain now that if he had any designs
upon Julian, the time to carry them into
execution had not yet arrived.

When the two had _ satisfied their appe-
tites Billy was saddled, the fire extin-
guished, and the journey toward St.
Joseph commenced. Julian rode the horse
and Sanders walked by his side, striding
along at an astonishing rate and keeping
Billy in a trot all the way. He proved to
be a very entertaining companion, and
told stories of adventure in the mount-
ains and on the plains till Julian_be-
came interested in spite of himself. San-
ders, quick to notice the fact, again spoke
of the. home among the gold mines to
which he was ready to conduct. Julian, if
the latter would only trust to his guid-
ance; but seeing very plainly that the boy
did not believe a word he said, he drop-
ped the subject and did not refer to it
again.

At noon they stopped at a farm-house,
where both travelers and horse were re-
galed with an excellent dinner, and about
ten o’clock that night found themselves
in a hotel in St. Joseph. Julian asked
to be shown at once to his room, and
after he had locked himself in and barri-
caded the door with the washstand and
chairs, he drew a long breath of relief,
and for the first time since meeting Rich-
ard Mortimer believed himself free from
danger. The feeling of comfort and se-
curity he experienced was certainly re-
freshing, but it would have been short-
lived had he known what his companion
in the adjoining room was thinking
about.

That worthy was up and doing at a very
early hour, and his first move, after he
had come out of his room and looked up
and down the hall to make sure that
there was no one in sight, was to place
his ear and then his eye to the keyhole of
Julian’s door, He heard and saw enough
to satisfy him that the boy had not yet
arisen, and this point being settled he
went down stairs and out of the house,

    
      
   
    
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
 
  
    
   
   
    
   
 
   
   
     
  
   
  
 
  
   
  
  
    
    
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
 
 
   
   
    
   
    
  
    
    
    
  
   
  
   
 
  
    
  
  
    
  
   
 
  
  
 
 
   
 
   
   
   
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
         
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
      
   
 
    
     
   
   
   
 
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
    
  
    
 
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
 
    
    
   
   
   
   
  
 
 
   
  
    
     
    
   
 
   
   
   
  
    
    
    
  
   
  
  
  
    

 
  
  
 
   
   
   

é
at c

SEO

 

644

He hurried along the streets, and after
turning numerous corners found himself
in front of a small and very dingy public
house, which, as the sign before the door
indicated, was called the Hunter’s
Home. It was patronized exclusively
by frontiersmen, and some of the guests
were alieady astir and lounging about the
doors. Sanders glanced at the groups as
he walked by them, and turning the near-
est corner passed on out of sight. No
sooner had he disappeared than two men
arose from the bench on which they had
been sitting, and strolling down the
street and turning the same corner, pres-
ently came up with Sanders, who was
perched upon a dry-goods box in front of
a store.

“T allowed it was you, Ned, but I
didn’t know,” said one of them, advanc-
ing and extending his hand, which San-
ders shook cordially. ‘“ You’re dressed up
like a gentleman. What luck?”

“T’ve got him.’

“You have?” cried both the men in
concert.

“It's a fact. He’sin a hotel not more’n
a half a mile from here—Julian Mortimer
himself, an’ nobody else, I’ve had the
wust kind of a time a gettin’ him. Dick
Mortimer was thar ahead of me.”

“ec Sho i:

“Yes. An’ we’re goin’ to have a wusser
time, I am afraid. gettin’ him out of the
town tothe prairy. He's sharper’n two
steel traps, that boy is, an’ somehow he
don’t like the looks of me. He knows a
heap about himself, an’ is too smart to
swallow a single one of the lies I told
him. He’s goin’ to cut loose from me, I
can see it in his eye; an’ whatever we do
must be done to once. He wants to jine
a wagon train, if he can find one.”

“Wal, he can,” replied one of the men,
“cause thar’s one goin’ out to-day.
Silas Roper’s goin’ along.”

“Silas Roper!” replied Sanders, sav-
agely. “He’s allers in the way. He
mustn’t see the boy, ’caussa if he does our
goose is cooked—done brown. Come with
me to the hotel, an’ as we go along I will
think up some way to manage this busi-
ness.”

Sanders jumped off the dry-goods box
and walked rapidly away, closely fol-
lowed by his two companions. When
they arrived within sight of the botel he
stopped, for they saw Julian standing on
the steps. Sanders’ friends recognized
him at once, and declared that they
would have known him: if they had met
him on the other side of the world. They
held a short, whispered conversation,
after which the two men retreated into a
door-way out of sight, and Sanders kept
on and accosted Julian.

“You’rean ‘arly bird, hain’t you?” said
he, with anawkward attempt to appear
cordial and friendly. “So amI, I have
been findin’ out somethin’ about the

°
>

wagon trains, an’ I am told that one |

went out yesterday bound for the very
place you want to go. It will pass within
a hundred yards of the door of your
father’s ranch. I am goin’ to start after
it directly. Thar won’t be another goin’
out under a month, an’ I can't wait so
long; fur I’ve no money to waste in payin’
board bills.”

“Neither have I,” said Julian.

“Then you'd best go with me, hadn’t
you? We can easy ketch the train by day
after to-morrow——”

Sanders paused suddenly, finishing the
sentence with something that sounded
very much like an oath. He gazed earn-
estly down the street for a moment, and
then turned and walked rapidly away,
drawing his handkerchief close about his
face as he went. He did not slacken his
pace until he had left the hotel out of
sight, and was joined by his two com-
panions, who had made an equally hasty
retreat. The expression on their faces
indicated that they were terribly enraged
about something.

“Tf they wasn’t worth so much money
to us I would make way with both of
them in less time than it takes to say so!”
exclaimed Sanders, in a very strange tone
of voice. “Did you ever hear tell of such
luck? I’ve done all that can be done at
this end of the route, but I hain’t beat

et. We'll go to the mountains now, an’
ave everyt ing fixed agin’ the wagon
train gets thar.

For some reason Sanders and his friends
now seemed anxious to leave the town
with as little delay as possible. They
made the best. of their way to the Hun-
ter's Home, which they entered hurriedly,

. and when they again made their appear-
.ance on the street they were all on horse-

back and carried rifles on their shoulders
and revolvers and bowie-knives in their
belts.

No one not well acquainted with him
would have recognized Sanders as the
same man who had gone in to the hotel
but a few minutes before. His broadcloth
and jewelry had disappeared, also the
handkerchief which he had worn about
his face, and he was dressed in a suit of

‘buckskin, which had evidently seen the

hardest kind of service. If Julian could
have taken one glance at him now, he

Goop

would not have felt the least inclination
to renew his short acquaintance with
him, nor would he have wondered that
the man had been to careful to keep his
features concealed from view. Perhaps
he would have asked himself why he did
not continually wear the handkerchief.

His was the worst looking face that had
ever been seen in the streets of St. Joseph
—one that any man except its owner
would have been ashamed of; and even he
had thought best to hide it for a while
lest it sbould bear testimony against him
and defeat his plans. But as he was now
about to leave the vicinity of civilized
man and go among those of his own
kind, concealment was no longer neces-
sary. He appeared in his true character,
that of villain and desperado.

When Sanders and his companions were
fairly out of the stable-yard, they put
spurs to their horses, and rode swiftly
away. They stopped that night long
enough to ascertain that Julian was with
the emigrants, and to make a demonstra-
tion, the result of which shall be related
presently, and then resumed their rapid
gallop, which they did not slacken in one
day, nor two; and even at the end ofa
week, mounted on fresh horses, which
they had stolen or obtained in exchange
for theirown jaded animals, they were
still riding toward the mountains as if
for dear life. In this way they gained
considerably on the wagon train, and by
the time it appeared insight of Bridger’s
Pass, Sanders had mustered assistance,
and was ready to accomplish by force of
arms what he had failed to gain by
strategy.

(TO BE CONTINYED.)

Simple Life-Saving “Arrangement.

APTAIN PIGNON-BLANGC, of Havre

<i de Grace, France, is the inventor of a

simple life-saving apparatus in-

tended to carry a man ashore from

a wrecked vessel. It may be rigged up ina

short time by any ship’s carpenter, from a

barrel of proper size; and in this consists

its chief merit. The illustration explains it-
self,

 

 

A saw cut at each side of the bunghole re-
moves a portion of the staves, leaving a hole
large enough to admit the body of a man,
while a piece of canvas may be nailed
around the hole, and drawn closely under
the arms of the person, so that the water is
prevented from entering when the barrel is
swung by the waves, or when the surf
washes over it. In order to give it stability,
and keep the hole upward, a few bars of
pig-iron are suspended below, by ropes
from the sides of the barrel.

It is well known that when a vessel is
beached, the wind blows from the sea, and
the motion of the waves is toward the shore,
and any floeting body will be driven ashore.
Use is often made of the direction and force
of the wind, by attaching a line to a floating
object and allowing it to drift ashore. Per-
sons ashore may then assist in establishing
a communication with the vessel; but if no-
body happens to be on the shore to assist,
the line is of no use. By means of the
above arrangement, a man may be sent with
the line, and establish the communication,
as the inventor demonstrated by placing
himself in the barrel at a distance of some
seven hundred feet from the shore, while
the waves were running so high that it
would have been very difficult, if not im-
possible, to reach the shore by swimming.
The breakers inclined the cask slightly; but
every time it soon resumed its original posi-
tion, and reached the shore with the fourth
wave, which threw it up so high that the
occupant left it almost on dry ground.

It is evident that a barrel or cask with one
head, with the open end upward, may also

 

be used. It only requires a larger ‘piece of
canvas, and the proper counterpoise under

 

 

 

 

NEWS.

the lower head. The use of stout iron or
wooden bars and ropes for attaching the
counterpoise, is preferable to merely sus-
pending it by ropes, which leave it free to
swing in any direction. With the counter-
poise thus secured, the equilibrium of the
cask would ‘be much more stable, and the
possibility of upsetting would be rendered
very small,
———~+-6-e

ign TALKS
SHORT Te

BY ARTHUR SEWALL.
pile iy
A correspondent, who hides his identity under
the signature of ‘Inquisilive,” writes: ‘I have
some literary tastes, although quite young, and
would like to become a reporter.”

To bea ec is a laudable ambition,
but the road to success is not an easy
one. In connecting one’s self with a
newspaper, perhaps the first essential is
ability to write correctly. If a young
man is able to write good English the
first step has been taken in his career as
a journalist. Then he receives assign-
ments, and the city editor keeps him
busy. If it be a morning paper, the staff
meet at the office early in the afternoon,
and then they begin to hustle. If there
is any special event or circumstance in
progress of development a reporter is
placed in charge of it, and continues to
make it his first business until the end.
Thus, during General :Grant’s illness,
special men were assigned to his case,
and from the time of his serious sickness
until his removal to Mount McGregor, a
small army of men gathered in front of
his residence and tried to get information
from every one who entered or left the
house.

If you write on space, as will probably
be the case at first, then the choice of as-
signments will go to the salaried report-
ers, and only such work as is left over
will be given to you. Thus you will be
sent to Brooklyn at your own expense to
describe a meeting at some church, where
a ee is expected, and your account
of it will be condensed into a dozen lines,
for which you will receive fifty cents to
one dollar, even though it may have
taken several hours’ time.

If you develop a talent for picturesque
writing then you are apt to be a success.
If you can tell a good “story,” as it is
called, your services will be required for
important occasions, Interviewing, for
instance, is only given to the best kind of

== reporters. Indeed, a special gift is re-
| quired of those who do that kind of work.

You must be able to get at what the per-
son interviewed means, rather than what
he says. <A serious case of that kind

| happened on Mr. Lowell’s return from

England some years ago. Julian Haw-
thorne was sent to interview him by the
New York World, and in a subsequent
issue appeared Mr. Lowell’s opinions on
things in general, some of which were ad-
verse to his treatment in England. In
consequence Mr. Lowell claimed to have
been misrepresented by the son of his old
friend. Now, what happened was plain
enough. Mr. Lowellsimply suggested cer-
tain things, which Mr. Pe thasia em-
phasized.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, in his ever-
charming “Autocrat of the Breakfast
Table,” tells the story of the threefold
nature of man. There is the man, as he
thinks he is, and the man as he appears
to be, and also the man as he is in reality.
So, replacing the word “man” by the word
“thing” in the previous sentence, you will
see how the reporter in describing an in-
cident as it appears to him, may make it
very different from what it is in reality.

The life of a reporter is a hard one. Ex-
posed to all varieties of weather, often
on assignments that deprive him of his
regular sleep and meals, he frequently re-
sorts to habits that ruin him. If he is
able to control himself and grow in his
profession, he may in time be the night
editor, city editor, and finally managing
editor of a great daily in New York. He
is, then, autocrat of all he surveys. The
managing editor of a New York dans has
more influence than the governor of the
State. Greeley was nominated for the
Presidency. Thurlow Weed was the most
Hifiuential diet in his party, during the
Civil War, in New York State. It is, per-
haps, not too much to say that he made
Mr. Lincoln President, and Mr. Seward
Secretary of State. In recent years Ben-
jamin Wood, of the Daily News, Truman
A. Merriman, of the New York Times,
and Amos J. Cummings, of the New York
Sun, have sat in Congress,

For the most part journalists are good
fellows. They stand by each other in life

 

a

and in death. Nothing is more noblé
than the work of the New York Press
Club, Any struggiing journalist who
falls by the wayside is promptly care
for by that body. They have a bed at
one of the hospitals, they have a cottage
at Twilight Park, and a lot in one of the
cemeteries, where a last resting-place 18
rovided for those who otherwise would
ind a pauper’s grave.

As far as remuneration is concerned
there is but little reason to complain.
pe receives a regular salary of from
$15 to $30 a week, and soon is able to in-
crease that sum by outside work if hes
clever. Thus, the financial reporter of 4
daily New York paper, after gathering
his news for his own journal, can readily
condense that information and send @
telegram of the condition of the New
York market to a Boston or Philadelphia
paper, and, perhaps, to both. In the case
of a trade paper, the opportunity is eve?
greater, for an abstract of the reporter §
specialty will find a ready sale to other
papers, if he can tell his story well.

e have always felt that a good way
to begin was Ry experience in the compos’
ing-room. To learn to set type is mos
desirable. The man who can set up mal;
ter without the intervention of pen 42
paper is apt to be a successful newspapel
man. At least, he will be a fluent 22
ready writer.

L. F., of St. Paul, writes: “T have Jearned woot
turning and can make from two dollars to tW
dollars and fifty centsaday. The trade 18 bi!
injurious to health, so I shall drop it. Jama pret y
good draughtsman, and have studied painting, bu
cannot call myself a first-class artist. 1 am V if
fond of drawing and painting, and I believe 2
stick to it I will become a good artist. ee
advise me of some school of fine art, where 1 ¢ ry
study engraving and lithography. 1am als0 am ,
fond of medical studies. Tell me if I should ps to
both or drop one of them, as iam poor and have
earn my Own school fees.”

You seem to be suffering from 40 4
burras de richessese. We would so
you to study medicine, and when val

ave earned your medical degree you her
then be the better able to decide 45 -
whether your inclination or bent 18 di-
that direction or not. The St. Paul Me a
cal College is in your city. Send to the
for a prospectus, which read dilige?e
and see if that is not the proper place |
you to go. Meanwhile, you can an
sninolent from your art work to pay Y°

ues.

It seems to us that from the tone oF
your letter that your tendencies are Salle
crude and undefined, and in such 4 ©.
an art career, unless you have gene -
might unsettle your future. Hene ss
medical course will compel you to be be
erratic, more stable, and so you Wl.) 4
able to meet what comes your way Wi 6
more mature judgment when you an
finished your course than now. You WT.
to do too much. That is bad. Try tei
centrate all your energies on one wate
raat and t “4 when that is mas
take up something else. a. AOL

The feat physicians of to-day i
practitioners, but specialists. . ame
whose great discovery has made bis 7tion
a household word, and whose repu ears
for all time is assured, has devoted Jv.
to the study of the development ° ice
tain disease germs, Pasteur, ch of
specialties are similar, has spent een
his life in the study of the peculiat Pet ire,
of hydrophobia. Cheveot, of La Su P cif :
near Paris, is the world’s great “Frpere-
ist on certain nervous diseases. turnels
fore, don’t try to be a wood- an
draughtsman, artist, lithographey, ote
physician, but choose one, and
your entire energies to it.

As for art, we know of no scho gb
engraving and lithography are rly all
Wood engraving is taught in nem pably
of. the great cities, You will Pro°ppi-
be ab‘e to find good art schools, ne sti-
cago, and the Chicago Polytechni¢ to pro”
tute, opened last autumn, intends ove op”
vide in one great system all the, | educa:
ments of technical and industrlé
tion, with a special reference to W
will fit young men or women fo! them t°
tical duties of life, and enable
earn a living by skilled labor. are the

pales SreraS A and lithograPey
application o rawing to s- nces
diams, to metal in the first ineye
and to stone in the second, hen jon
you need most is probably instruc raving
drawing. A good knowledge of ene)" wy.
can be acquired from Mr. 2% +, H.
Stevenson’s translation of Vic in :
Delaborde’s “Engraving: Its Oi eont you
cesses, and History,” which w! x send
$2, and for the same price W? mmar of
you Mr. W. D. Richmond's Gmshed in
Lithography,” which was pu
London in 1886. ntsman $8

If your proficiency as a draug orb work
sufficiently good you might Se)’, sour
in an architect’s office, and 50 mM hat you
medical studies from the wages | vent.
would receive from such 4% ae
Arrangements could easily 0° yours,
that you could choose your OF wi
and so that it would not inter ttend

 

the time when you would have to Simi:
the lectures at the medical school.

  

 

 

 
     
       
 
   
     
    
   
  
   
   
   
    
 
  
     
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
     
  
  
    
   
     
 
    
   
    
   
  
 
  
   
    
   
  
  
  
 
 
     
    
    
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
   

  

SRarPoe sa ONMROD™TSE Pa

ew as ee CS eS: , ~ ,: S were. ow * Cr «es

te a a

 

 

 

 

EACON BASSWOOD, I have sent
Sam Baxter to ask his father to

~ thi

qounded at the proposition. “It can’t be

‘Which he had made his calculations. “I

 

larly you might use your ability as an ar-
tist in connection with illustrating.
There are, doubtless, journals in St.
Paul that require the occasional service
of an artist to make sketches for a story,
or to illustrate some special event. Here
Would be another. way to earn the means
With which to pay for your medical edu-
cation,

From the foregoing, doubtless, you will
be able to acquire some suggestions as to
What you can do, and we trust that some
benefit may accrue to you in consequence.

tis not easy to take up a letter such as
yours, and give any definite or precise
advice, but we have tried in a suggestive
Way to indicate what can be done by one
Whose resources are so ample as yours
are,

NOTHING BUT A BOY,

By OLIVER OPTIC,
Author of “Lake Shore Series,” “Great Western
Series,” “Onward and Upward Series,” ‘‘Yacht
Club Series,” etc.

ee

(“Nornine Bur a Boy” was commenced in No. 33.
ack numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

*

CHAPTER XXVII.

TAKING IN CARGO,
2

 

 

 

 

come over and see you,” said
Ralph, as he seated himself on the
Brass near the invalid’s chair.
I don’t want to see him,” replied the
Rood man.
t Well, now I think youdo. Have you
thought anything about loading the
oat?”

“No, we hain't got so far as that yet. I
Snly know it took us three days to load
/er last year,” said the deacon, deeply
‘AXterested in this vital question.

e€ mean business now, and we don’t
Want any fooling about it. We must keep
ngs moving, and we can’t afford to
Spend three days loading the ark, with
Nothing for the horses to do.”

DO you think we had better hire help?”
f Yes, sir, I do; and that’s why I sent
“a Sam’s father. If Sam andIrun the

Oat, that’s about all we ought to be ex-
Pected to do.”

.2 don’t know but it is.”
to 4 Know it is, for | want to make a trip
© Hillburg every day,” added Ralph.

Every day!” exclaimed the deacon, as-

ne,

¥ I don’t know’s it can; but there’s
Othing like trying.”

4 +0U can’t stand it, Ralph.”
} es, I can, if I don’t have to help
°ad and unload the boat. I’ve figured it
+ Up,” continued the skipper, taking a
Piece of shingle from his pocket, on

ihe some talk with Mr. Buckwell about
t 'S matter, when he was here, and he
nea me how they loaded brick on the
Udson River, in New York State. Inthe
Place it will cost seventy-five cents a
OUsand to load the bricks, and just the
@me to unload them.”
«that’s rather high to pay, Ralph.”
oe Os sir; I don't think it is, for all the
night at this end must be done in the
st In the night!” repeated the deacon,
Artled at the enterprise of the young
an. “What's that for?”
wi Pll tell you,” laughed Ralph; “we
Toul begin now. The Roxana must be
acca to-night so that I can start her at
my. 0 clock or earlier to-morrow morning.
how if the boat makes two miles an
twat and that's all I expect of her with
ee horses—I shall be in Hillburg at one
S the afternoon. It will take four hours
i Unload the boat, and I shall get back
If the brick-yard by eight in the evening.
m We get another horse I think I can
hae’ the trip in five hours, loaded, and
wi that time, empty.” f
deg, OU are crazy, Ralph!” exclaimed the
hecon: “You have lost your head over
at ark,”
Bat [ have, who has found it? I tell you
boy all do all I say, if I am nothing but a

or But you are wild to think of loading.
fon Unloading twenty thousand bricks in
Wag ours,” protested the deacon, who
“T Somewhat slow in his ideas.
We] haven’t told you yet how Mr. Buck-
«7 58id the work ought to be done.”
Not erhaps he has got some new-fangled
«100 to load the boat with machinery.”
the ic} sir; it is to be loaded by hand. At
thr rick-yard the hoat will lie within
Sta” (eet of the pile of bricks. One man
boat Son the shore, and another on_ the
alle he first picks up five bricks from

 

ho Pile, and passes them to the other,

Sliq Catches them, and drops them on the |

the }, which carries them to the bottom of

this Oat. Two men can load the ark in
Way in nine hours,”

 

 

 

 

 

CGrooDp

“TLshould think they could; but that
ain’t four hours.”

“Four men would do it in six hours,
and six men in four hours. I mean to
have six men, who will form three strings,
or gangs. In Hillburg it will take nine
men to run the strings; and it will at the
yard, when we have taken off half a
dozen loads,”

“But you are going to pay your men
sixty-two and a half cents an hour,” said
the deacon. “They will get two dollars
and a half for their four hour’s work.
That’s too much, if it is in the night,
for men in Pondville don’t get but
twenty-five cents an hour for short jobs.
Forty cents an hour is enough for night
work.”

“TI guess you are right, deacon; but I
was thinking of the time when nine men
would be needed ; and then it will be only
forty-two cents an hour,” replied Ralph,
looking at his shingle. “We will give
forty cents a thousand at the yard, then,
until the nine men are wanted.”

“That will be about right.”

“Somebody will have to look after these
men, and see that they don’t break the
bricks, and that they trim the boat right.”

“That’s true. I wish I was able to do it
myself.”

“T wish you were. There are plenty of
men down at the Hollow who have no
work, because the ground is so wet. They
are all good men, and would be glad to
work for twenty-five cents an hour, or
thirty, even in the night. Now, I believe
in giving the job of loading the bricks to
Mr. Baxter, at fifty cents a thousand for

the present. He may hire his own men}

= =

“—s

~<
=

—

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEWS.

can, Mr. Baxter, and I will sail them
over in the horse-boat,” said Ralph.

“T shall have to take my boat over to
come back in,” replied the contractor; “so
I may as well take the men over in it.”

“As you please.”

Baxter left, glad to get a job, and
promised to be at the yard by seven
o’clock.

“Now, Ralph, the business is all fixed,”
said the deacon, with a cheerful smile.
“Tf you get through to-morrow all right I
shall be thankful.”

“Oh, I shall!” exclaimed Ralph, con-
fidently. “But there is one thing more,
deacon. * Who is to take care of the cows
and hogs and do chores?”

“You needn’t worry about them,” in-
terposed Aunt Roxy. “But ain’t you
coming home to-night?”

“No; Sam and I must sleep on the
boat,” replied Ralph.

“What are you going to do with the
horses?” asked the deacon, opening his
eyes very wide, as a new revelation of the
young man’s plans began to dawn upon

im.

“TI don’t mean to take the horses out of
the boat till next Saturday night, if
things work well,” answered Ralph,
smiling.

“You don’t?”

“No; I have a space three feet and a
half wide each side of the power, which
will answer for stalls, or the two horses
can be very comfortably lodged in the
power. I must take on board some ha
and grain to feed them, and I think
can make them as comfortable and happy
as they would be in the barn. They shall

‘pay RALPH THE MONEY FOR THE BRICKS,” SAID MR. BUCKWEL)..

as cheap as he can, and I think he can
make his day’s wages every night. If he
can hire the men for thirty cents an hour
he will make two dollars and eighty cents
a night.”

“Tt will be a good thing for him.”

“Yes, and for the men who have no
work just now. When we get another
horse, I hope I shall get back to the yard
by six o’clock. Then the men can do the
work and be abed by eleven o’clock.
Some of them can do half or three-quar-
ters of a day’s work besides. These labor-
ers don't get but adollar and a half a
day on the farms, and some of them will
be able to make over two dollars a day.”

“Perhaps we shall want to go making
bricks again this summer,” suggested the
deacon, witha smile, to soften the ab-
surdity of the proposition.

“I think it is very likely, if our plans
work well, for bricks are scarce,” added
Ralph. Z

“Then we shall want some of the men
at the yard,” ; .

“Perhaps all of them, if the business
holds good. Only think of it, deacon! If
we make a trip every day in the Roxana

-it won’t take but twenty days to carry off

every brick we have in the yard. It’s
only the fifth of the month now, and they
may be all gone by the first of May—who
knows?” : :

The deacon shook his head. The idea
was too ridiculous to be entertained.
Even the very superior quality of the
bricks did not, in his estimation, warrant
the ‘hope of any such stupendous sales.
The arrival of Mr. Baxter changed the
topic, and after half an hour’s talk with
him, he took the job at. the price agreed
upon by Ralph and the deacon,

“Go and get your men as soon a8 you

 

have a good bed, and we will clean them
off in the morning before we start.”

“It looks like bad weather now,” said
the deacon, looking at the clouds, which
were rapidly piling up in the southeast.

“T don’t care for the weather. We shall
be under cover, including the horses. If
I can only get a gang of men in Hillburg
to unload the bricks I shall be all right.”

“TI hope the Lord will prosper you,”
said the good man, devoutly.

Ralph and Sam conveyed half a barrel
of oats and corn mixed, to the boat, and
wheeled down about a hundred weigit of
hay, which was stowed in one of the pas-
sage-ways beside the horse-power. Mrs.
Basswood put up a box of victuals which
would last them until the next night,
though Ralph intended to provision the
boat in Hillburg. After supper they
started for the brick-yard. The wind had
sprung up pretty strong from the south-
ward, but the ark crossed the pond in
about twelve minutes. The horses were
bedded down with meadow hay, a stock
of which had been laid in the _ horse-

ower, where they were quite as much at
Coe as in the stable, though the re-
volving platform was rather too much
inclined for perfect animal comfort.

At half-past six Baxter and the labor-
ers arrived. Ralph explained how the
boat was to be loaded, and placed three
slides, one in the cross gangway by the
horses’ heads, one by the pilot-house, and
one forward. They were steep enough to
compel the bricks to slide down them,
and they would strike in the middle of
the boat. Baxter had brought seven men
instead of five, besides himself, though he
did not promise to employ them all. They
wanted to come and see what the work
was.

645

The skipper showed them how to toss
the bricks, as the process had been ex-
plained to him by Mr. Buckwell, and the
men soon acquired the knack of throwing
and catching them. Ralph placed a
fourth slide in the space on the starboard
side of the power, and four lines were
formed. The bricks were counted, or
rather measured off in the pile, so that
this perplexing task of keeping an ac-
count of them was not required. After the
men had practiced half an hour they were
quite skilled; they worked very briskly,
and seemed to regard it as mere sport,
The ark was easily trimmed by shifting
the slides, which had to be done several
times.

At half-past nine the twenty thousand
bricks were in the ark, ready for the voy-
age. They weighed forty tons, but the
boat had settled only two feet in the
water, and the hull was still fourteen
inches above the pond. Ralph had raised
the paddle-wheel; orrather pulled out
the bolts which secured the “arms” in
place, and permitted it to rise as the boat
was depressed. The arms were again
bolted and braced in their new position.
Before ten Baxter and his men left. The
contractor paid the laborers only twenty-
five cents an hour, so that he made over
four dollars himself, and Ralph promised
to pay him on his return the next day.

The craft was loaded, ready to start in
the morning, and the skipper and deck-
hand turned in to spend their first night
on the boat.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE FIRST VOYAGE.

HOUGH Ralph made no complaint,
we will venture to say that he did
not sleep much during his first
night on board the Roxana. The
situation was new and strange, and the
most tremendous results depended upon
the issues of the next day. she lay in
his bunk, he heard the horses munching
their hay, and he had the satisfaction of
knowing that they were contented,

Before he went to sleep he heard them
lie down, which was further evidence
that they were satisfied with their condi-
tion, He went to sleep, at last, but he
awoke while it was still dark. The rain
was beating down furiously upon the roof
of the cabin, and the wind whistled and
roared in the woods on shore.

He could not goto sleep again, so he
got up without waking Sam, who was
snoring like a trooper in his bunk, and
went into the mess-room. Lighting the
lantern he had brought over, he looked
at the watch, which the deacon had per-
mitted him to retain. It was three
o’clock. He had not slept more than four
hours, but he felt as fresh as a new man.
The excitement would have sustained him
for a time without any sleep. He made a
fire in the stove, and put on the tea-ket-
tle filled from the pond.

The horses whinnied when they beard
him, and he gave them a liberal supply of
hay, for he knew, if they did not, that a
hard day’s work was before them. Then,
with the lantern in his hand, he looked
over the boat, to assure himself that she
was all right. He tied the pumps for-
ward of the pilot-house, but the ark con-
tained but little water, evidently only
what had rained into her. Hanging up
the lantern in the mess-room, he found the
tea-kettle was boiling, and he proceeded
to make a pot of coffee for breakfast.
While it was boiling on the stove he gave
the horses their grain—four quarts each

of corn and oats, which was double the

usual feed.

Opening the box of victuals, he arranged
the food on the mess-table. He was sorry
he had nothing to cook, for he thought it
would be a new sensation to bake, boil
and fry on the boat. At four o'clock it
was broad daylight, and he called Sam
Baxter, who had slept fully six hours.

“What are you about, Ralph?” asked
the deck-hand as he joined the skipper
in the mess-room.

“ About to eat my breakfast; won’t you
have some, Sam?”

“Of course I will. I am always ready
to eat. But what time is it?” asked Sam.

“Ten minutes past four.”

“How long have you been up?”

“IT turned out about three. I couldn’t
sleep very well. I haven’t got used to it.”

“You_ will do better to-night. By
hokey, how it rains!”

“It pours, and the wind blows a young
hurricane.”

“Won't it blow us ashore, if we start?”

“No, I guess not. The wind is south-
east, and it will help us along after we
get down into the Meropack. Come, sit

own, Sam, and eat your breakfast. We
ae start her just as soon as we can get
ready.”

Though it was very early in the morn-
ing, both of the boys ate a hearty meal.
The coffee was a success, and relieved the
cold viands, of which the body of the
breakfast was composed. The ship’s com-
pany of the Roxana did not stand upon

 

much teremony, and by half-past four
  
   
 
 
    
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
   
  
 
   
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
 
    
 
   
  
 
   
     
  
     
   
  
    
   
   
  
 
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
    
  
    
   
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
    
    
  
 
 
  
    
  
   
     
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
      
 
  
  
   
 
   
  

 

S46

the dishes were all washed and put away.
The next job was to clean off the horses,
and harness them to the power, The bed-
ding was pitched into the port stall, and
by five o’clock everything was ready for
the departure.

The sail, which had been stored in the
shanty while the boat was not in use,
had been made ready to help the horses
when the wind was right, for the skipper
was not disposed to lose any advantage
whic. might be gained.

“Now we are all right,
Ralph. “Cast off the fasts.”

The deck-hand promptly obeyed the
erder. The pilot pulled out the stop, and
the horse-power began to rattle. He had
opened the front windows of the pilot-
house, so that he could see distinctly the
objects ahead, The floats of the paddle-
wheel splashed, but not so_ briskly as the

Sam,” said

day before, making a delightful music to |

the ears of the skipper; but somehow the
ark did not seem to move. He did not
consider what a heavy cargo he had in the
hold, and the few seconds that the craft
did not move seemed like long minutes to
him. His heart mounted to his throat in
the intense anxiety of the moment, for
he began to fear that he had loaded the
boat too heavily, or that something else
had developed itself to defeat his plans.
But the feeling was only a boyish impa-
tience, for the Roxana began. to move,
slowly indeed, yet it was enough that she
moved.

Ralph was satisfied, and his spirits_ be-
came buoyant again. He steered the boat
out from the landing-place, her speed in-
creasing every moment. The paddle- wheel
was so far submerged that it was a dead
hard pull for the horses to turn it; but
they worked like good fellows, When
the ark reached Oak Island Ralph judged
that she was making about two miles an
hour.. Of course, the wheel turaed more
slowly than during the former trip. The
pilot threw his helm over, and headed the
ark into the river. He had some doubts
about the navigation of the stream in the
narrow places, but fortunately the water
was very high, which made the prospect
more favorable.

The boat entered the river. It was nar-
row and crooked in places, but the broad

.rudder made her steer quick, while the
small axis of the steering-wheel made it
easy toturnit. There was a strong cur-
rent in Pond River, and the skipper saw
that it was helping him nota little. It
was half-past four when the boat went
into the stream, and as it was just two
miles to the Meropack he had a chance to
measure the speed of the Roxana. ‘The
strong wind beat the rain furiously into
the open windows of the pilot-house, but
Ralph dared not close them lest he should
misjudge his distance and run the boat
ashore.

“Well, how’s this, Ralph?” asked Sam,
coming into the pilot-house.

“All right,” replied the pilot, who was
too anxious about the navigation to spare
much time for talk.

“By hokey ! she’s going ahead like
smoke now.’

“The current helps her. But you
mustn’t talk to me now, Sam, for I have
my head and hands full to steer her,” re-
plied Ralph.

“T won’t say another word,” protested
Sam.

“Not till we get into the big river.”

Lest he might yield to temptation, the
deck-hand left the pilot to himself, and
went. to the stern platform.

Ralph had studied Pond River a great
deal. He knew the course of the current,
and where the deep water was. He soon
learr.ed how to counteract the swing of
the boat as he rounded the bends, and be-
fore he was half way to the Meropack he
felt quite at home in his new vocation,
He ventured to close one of the front
windows, for he was nearly wet through.
He stood behind the sash, and when he
could not see clearly he went over to the
other side of the wheel, and looked
through the open window. After the
first mile the river widened, and the steer-
ing was less difficult; indeed, it became
quite exciting when it ceased to be harass-
ing.

Presently he saw the broad river, with
Pond Island in the middle of it. Its
surface was lighted up with white caps,
so fierce was the wind; but then the
waves were not heavy enough to make
the ark roll or pitch. Any motion of this
kind might have disturbed the horses;
but there was not likely to be anything
like a smart sea on the stream. Off the

oint at the mouth of Pond River, Ralph
ooked at the .watch. It was eighteen
minutes past five o’clock, and he had been
forty-eight minutes from Oak Island,
which was at the rate of two anda half
miles an hour.

“Sam!” shouted the skipper.

“Here we are!” cried the deck-hand,

. and in a moment he presented himself in

the pilot-house.
“Can you steer her, Sam?”
“TI don’t know; I never tried,” replied

Sam, who had been “ aetna

Q

hand at the helm. “I will do my best.”

 

 

to try his|gangway forward of the

“T want to set that sail.”

“Can’t I do it?”

“No; you don’t know how it works,
Take the wheel.”

Sam took the wheel, and Ralph gave
him such instructions as he needed. But
the deck-hand had practiced a great deal
at it when the boat was fast to the wharf,
and he soon “got the hang of the new
school-house.” The skipper knew that
the general course of the Meropack up to
Hillburg from Pond Island was _ north-
west, which gave him a fair wind all the
way, except ata few of thebends. It was
no pas task to set the sail, but Ralph
did it by the exercise of his ingenuity in
various ways. The effect was exceedingly
gratifying to him, and he saw that the
canvas was adding at least a mile to the
speed of the Roxana. A glance at the
horses, and the increased rattle of the
power, assured him the animals were re-
lieved from that dead, hard pull, which
was, perhaps, more painful to him than
to the brutes.

“By hokey! She goes kiting now,” ex-
claimed Sam, as the skipper returned to
the pilot-house.

“T thought that sail would do the busi-
ness,” replied Ralph. “It’s about equal
to two horses in this breeze.”

“See how that mast bends,” said the
deck-hand.

“The braces will hold it. I don’t be-
lieve anything will break while the boat
keeps moving.”

“What time do you expect to get to
Hillburg, if she holds on at this rate?”

“We shall be there by ten o’clock, I
think.”

“Hokey!” ejaculated Sam. “That will
be three hours ahead of time.”

“We started an hour earlier than I in-
tended; and the sail is saving two hours,”
added Ralph. “You steer very well.”

“T am getting a little used to it, and I
like it first-rate.”

“You will have all you want of it:”

The Roxana continued to move at a uni-
form rate, and being so deeply loaded,
she did not make much leeway when she
had the wind on the quarter. When it
came for a short distance, in the beam,
Ralph slacked off the sheet, so as par-
tially to spill the sail. At nine o’clock
the city of Hillburg was insight, a mile
and a half distant. By this time the rain
had ceased, though the wind was still
fresh, but subsiding. Within a quarter of
a mile of the wharf the skipper furled the
sail, At half-past nine the boat was
alongside the pier, and Mr. Buckwell
came out of his counting-room to welcome
Ralph.

 

CHAPTER XXIX,
HOMEWARD BOUND.

ee
“sy AM glad to see you!” shouted Mr.

? Buckwell, hailing Ralph on the after
Os

6 \20 3

deck, as the boat came up to the
; wharf.

“And I’m glad to see you, sir,” re-
plied the skipper of the Roxana, stepping
ashore, with the stern-line in his hand.

“You are here early in the day, Ralph.”

“Two hours earlier than I expected to
be, sir. I carried sail all the way up the
Meropack, and it blew a gale.”

“You are a regular old salt, my lad.”

“No, sir; I never was outside of the
river. I think the sail saved two hours
on the trip. That mast bent like a sap-
ling when the wind came fresh.”

“How did your horses work?”

“First-rate, sir. I don’t think the
were sea-sick. But, Mr. Buckwell,
would like to attend to business now. I
want nine men to unload the boat.”

“You can get twenty men, if you want
them.”

“Nine will do the work in four hours,”
added Ralph. “I should like to engage
one man to do the job, and let him hire
his own gang.”

“Mulcavy is yourman. He is a sort of
contractor; he digs cellars, builds roads,
and does such jobs. He controls a large
gang of laborers, and is now leveling off
a side hill close by here.”

Ralph went over his calculations with
the iron manufacturer, who fully ap-
proved them, but thought he could make
a better bargain than seventy-five cents a
thousand. Mulcavy was sent for, and
the method of unloading the ark ex-
plained to him. Mr. Buckwell offered
him fifty cents athousand.

“That’s too little,” replied the contrac-
tor, shaking his head. “Sure, I must pay
men thirty cents an hour for short jobs.”

“But you don’t ‘pay any man_ over
twenty cents an hour by the day?” Mr.
Buckwell objected. “I can get laborers
enough at a dollar and a half a day.”

“Give me sixty cents a thousand, and
I’ll have every brick on the wharf in two
hours’ time.”

The bargain was finally made on these
terms, and when the clock struck ten
Mulcavy had eighteen men on the wharf
and on the boat. Six strings of them
were formed. The deck planks in the
orses, and on
each side of the power, were removed, and

 

NEWS.

part of the boarding on each side of_ the

house was battened so that “It could be} picked up one of the pike-poles.
will shove oft the bow first.”

taken off in a moment.
plans for the craft, Ralph had carefully
provided for loading and discharging her
cargo. When half the bricks were taken
out of the boat it was necessary to turn
her around so that the opposite side
would be alongside the wharf, in order to
save the labor of an extra man in each
string.

Mulecavy instructed his men in the art
of tossing the bricks, and the laborers,
who had been taken from the gravel-pit
where they were filling carts, seemed to
consider the work as a sort of pastime,
though probably they would not so regard
it after a few days’ practice. While the
contractor’s gang were at work, Ralph
went up to the counting-room of Mr.
Buckwell, where they talked about the
boat and the bricks, and the skipper gave
a full account of his voyage from Silver
Pond. At twelve o’clock the two clerks,
who had been detailed to count the bricks
as they were discharged, came to the office
with their tally-boards.

“Twenty-one thousand two hundred and
forty-five bricks,” reported one of
them.

“That’s more than I thought I had,”
laughed Ralph.

“Make up the account of this young
man,” added Mr. Buckwell to the. book-
keeper. “Give him a bill of items for the
iron work.”

“T am able to pay you what I owe to-
day,” said Ralph, proudly.

“Tam willing to trust you as long as
you wish.”

“T don’t wish to be trusted any longer,
As I understand the matter now, I will
never ask anybody to give me credit,
unless I am hungry.”

“Credit is all very well in its place,”
replied the iron manufacturer.

“All Deacon Basswood’s misery came
of his debts.”

“But if he hadn’t borrowed the two
thousand dollars he could not have manu-
factured these bricks, and what he has
on hand are worth more than his farm
twice over.”

“That’s very true; but I feel as if I
didn’t want to owe anybody.”

“Well, that’s a good feeling to have,
and everybody should be cautious in ac-
cepting credit.”

“The bricks come to two hundred and
fifty-four dollars and ninety-four cents,
and the bill for iron work is seventy-two
dollars and fifty cents,” said the book-
keeper, presenting the accounts. “The
balance is one hundred and eighty-two
dollars and forty-four cents.”

“Pay him the money,” replied Mr.
Buckwell.

“T never saw so much money as that in
a life,” laughed Ralph.

he skipper of the Roxana receipted the
bill for the bricks in behalf of Deacon
Basswood, and with the money in his
ocket, hastened tothe boat. He felta
ittle giddy under the influence of the
success he had realized, but he managed
to keep tolerably cool.

Sam Baxter had put the ark in order,
and she was all ready for the return trip.
The horses had been watered and fed with
four quarts of corn and oats each. They
seemed to be as happy and contented as
in their own stable, though the upward
inclination of the horse-power was too
great for their comfort at night. Ralph
had thought of a plan to remedy this
evil, for he was as careful of the horses
as he was of himself. He intended to

urchase a pair of small jack-screws, to
be placed permanently under the lower
end of the havde newer, so that he could
elevate it a foot. This arrangement
would also enable him to regulate the
speed of the horses when the ark was not
loaded.

“How is everything now, Ralph?”
asked Sam Baxter, with a broad grin on
his face, as the skipper came on board.

“First rate; the bricks are on the wharf,
and I have the money for them,” replied
Ralph.

“Have you, though?”

“T have; and if we can keep this thing
up for a few days, Deacon Basswood will
be all right.”

“T don’t see why we can’t do it every
day in the week, Sundays excepted. Here
are we ready to go home at one o’clock in
the afternoon. But it seems to me just
as though it was about dinner-time,”
said Sam, placing both hands upon his
stomach.

“You are right, Sam; I had forgotten
all about dinner. But I must go ashore
and get some things, and we can eat after
we get started. If you will make a fire in
the stove, I will be back soon.”

In half an hour the skipper had pur-
chased the jack-screws, a supply of pro-
visions for the cook-room, and two bags of
grain for the horses.

“Now we will be off, Sam,” said Ralph,
as he cast off the bow-line.

“T’m ready,” replied Sam. “The horses
have had a good feed anda rest of three
hours and ahalf. Shall I cast off the
stern-line?”

In making his |

I will get dinner,” said Ralph,
dinner,” laughed the deck-hand.

plenty of doughnuts and apple pie
box, and, of course, you can help y
any time you please.
good dinner, if you can wait long enoug
for me to cook it.”

toes were boiling.
was a ham, from which the skippe® Ss
off several slices, which were soon &

zling in the frying-pan.
was put on the stove, and in ha
a luxurious dinner was ready and Pp
it on the table.

“You are the captain of this craft,
and after you will be manners for

the stove, and would rather wal
before I eat.”

enterprise. When he had finishe¢

just for the pleasure of

|yelled Sam, rushing out

TO CHANGE THE COL

the redness, after a

 

   

 

as he

“No, not yet,” said the skipper
. : pp > “We

The bow of the boat was pointed toward

the middle of the river, and Ralph took
his place in the pilot-house.

“Now let her slide,” he called to the

deck-hand.

“All clear!” shouted Sam, a moment

| later,

The pilot pulled out the stop, and the

| horse-power began to rattle again.

| bolts and braces had been removed front
ithe brackets before the cargo was
| charged, so that the paddle-wheel dropped
las the hull of the boat was raised. 1b@
| Roxana moved off from the wharf, an@
aided by the current, she appeared 0
making about five miles an hour.

dis-

be

“Now, Sam, if you will take the wheel

“I’m your man for anything that means

?
“T don’t want you to be starved. Tae he

ourself
You shall have #

“Oh, I can wait. I was only joking: 10

Ralph went into the cook-room, W

Sam had made a fire in the stove, Ov
which the tea-kettle and a pot of pe 3
jsion

Among the prov

of coflee

A pot if a hout

es , » aid
Go and eat your dinner, Sam, sa

¢ oi ate . : ; i * oy ouse. :
Ralph, joining him in the pilot oe deck:

“Have you had yours?” asked th

hand.

“No; I will wait till you eat.” :
“Not if I know myself,” provesteg ei

me.

~ over
sen ork ov
been at a a, while

“

No, Sam; I have

‘ sti
The skipper carried his point at fat

though Sam did not feel right ® qinnet
However, t
enough for two men in
short space of time, and hastened pac vas
relieve the pilot.
not at fault, and he did som

> > rive ea ‘
he contrived to eeredibly

Ralph’s

eating. All the time he was th

2 : ; e
the mighty success which had crown

his
ner he counted the money in, bis
doing ei
thought of the joy with which the ©° tne
would receive it, and already be e
smiles on the faces of Aunt,
Mercy. He fancied the wrath
appointment of Squire Bassw0 ae
he should find that his brother :
tually making money, —_ chea ,
oor-house out of its victims. ., aD
. When he had washed the dishes (eq
put the cook-room in order, ? “wescre
down into the hold where the Ja¢
had been deposited. Their use © q the
calculated upon from the first, vaer the
two timbers, to be set upright ae
after part of the horse-powel, ul them,
to be put in position, He saw : r
at the proper length, and in ha
they were set up and securels as
screws over them, Of course; be
satisfied till he had experim@) ” yajse!
them, and applying the leverZa for the}
the power, till the horses stoppers spery’ oy
weight no longer moved the mac e
“What is the matter? W he Is

house. xipper wht

“Nothing,” replied the § 1 the fie’
had come out of the hold to B® aide’t
upon the power. {di

But the thing has stopped; and
do it.” Od

“Don’t you see that the horses
ing on a level.”

“T see what you have a
laughed Sam. “It works firs .
it?” 14," ansterpe

“Just as I intended it shou stand bY a
Ralph, complacently. “Now her .
wheel, Sam, and I will start

The skipper lowered
power, and the horses star “heel
their weights moved the ye h took
mouth of ae River ae pes
helm, and at half-pas ) “. the
passed Oak Island, headed for t
landing.

are gta
oinds,
si aon

ted &

, (TO BE CONTINUED:)
i mie oe

| nose

e0
ue flame he
Hold a red rose over bie will ee
a common match, and t a Cres
discharged wherever the as to ren iy
the leaves of the flower, EP tet,
it beautifully variegater into eons

white. If it be thet eal pe rest?

ce

’ , nmol

Have you read ‘our Combination 4 —

ment on page 648,

  

 

 

 
  

is-

Sree core Hrs OO BS wm him

~~ ee VS

Sa ae, Ne

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ay, oe Nee Se

8 een

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GOOD NEWS.

 

A BOY’S PROMISE.

BY GEORGE COOPER.

a

The school was out, and down the street
A noisy throug came thronging ;

The hue ot health, a gladness sweet,
To every face belonging.

Among them strode a little lad,
Who listened to another

And inildly said, half grave, half sad:
“I can't—I promised mother.”

A shout went up, a ringing shout
Of boisterous derision ;

But not one moment left in doubt
That manly, brave decision.

“Go where you please, do what you will,”
He calmly told the other ;

“But I shall keep my word, boys, still;
I cau’t—I promised mother.”

Ah! who can doubt the future course
Of one who thus had spoken ?

Through manhood’s struggle, gain and logs,
Could faith like this be broken ?

God's blessing on that steadfast will,
Unyielding to another,

That bears ali jeers and laughter still,
Because he promised mother!

INDIAN BOW.

——-—

 

BY EDWABD S. ELLIS.

a

= URING the old French war, when
fs) the colonies united with England
¢ in repelling the aggressions of
Ce France, it is stated tiat “His
Majesty, in order to have the best discip-
line observed by his troops in America,
ordered five commissions of brigadier zen-
€rals to be sent to America, and ten com-
missions for the colonels of foot, to be
disposed ef by General Abercrombie, or
Wiioever may be commander-in-chief in
that country, to the most..worthy and
deserving persons, and that all the officers
are to rise in rank and seniority according
to their courage and merit, without the
custom of purchasing that to which they
are entitled.”

At this time Israel Putnam was a little
under forty years of age—just in the
prime of life, and at the culminating

oint of his fame as a hunter and scout.

n 1758 he was raised to the rank of ma-
jor, and, joining that division of the
army intended for the conquest of north-
ern New York and its lakes, came under
the immediate command of Abercrombie
at Fort Edward. While the main army
was making its preparations for its grand
embarkation on Lake George, and the
storming of Ticonderoga, Putnam was the
man of all others to watch the movements
of the French, and repel any movement
they might attempt.

For the purpose of watching the move-
ments of the French at their formidable
entrenchments at Ticonderoga, to pene-

_ trate so far as possible their designs, and

to capture prisoners, and annoy Mont-
calm as much as possible, a strong scout
was ordered, at least, as far south as Wood
Creek and South Bay.

[t need scarcely be said that Israel Put-
nam was given charge of this expedition.
He selected sixty men, every one of whom
he knew as Indian fighters, hunters, and
gallant. soldiers, and, at the head of
these, he started for the place decided
upon as their headquarters. The noted
Robert Durkee, almost equal in every re-
spect to Putnam himself, was the second
in command,

To give them all additional experience
in this sort of work, three were selected
alternately to lead this little band of
rangers. The woods at that time, over
& hundred years ago, were so densely

thick that a semi-darkness forever
reigned in their gloomy precincts.

Through these they threaded their way,
with the same cautious care that they
followed the timid deer.

The distance thus marched, to the spot
where Whitehall now stands, was a lit-
tle more than fifty miles. Reaching Fort
Ann, the clearing, with its small but
friendly fort, presented a delightful con-
‘trast, while the pleasant little creek was
Yevealed for several miles. A little be-
‘Yond was seen Battle Hill, and ‘in close
proximity the border mountains of Lake
George.

For three days not a gun was fired, and
the march of the little band of rangers
was like that of shadows; but a noble
buck, dashing by them, was brought
down bya shot from one of their unerring
Yifles. “At this point fifteen of the com-
pany, whom Putnam thought unequal to
the service, were sent back, so that the
hand, now numbering forty-five of the
very best of border rangers, pressed on,
and in due time reached Battle Rock, at
the head of Lake Champlain.

This curious rock had every advantage
for the formation of their primitive fort-
ress, Being within hearing of the water-
fall, the orders and noise inevitable in the
Preparation of the parapet, would have

been unnoticed by the invading enemies,
while the water, at the very narrowest
portion, was of sufficient depth to float
the largest war frigates. ~The width .of
the water at this place is in the neighbor-
hood of a hundred feet—less, if anything.
The rock slopes down toward the water,
its lower edge being seven feet above the
surface; so that an enemy in passing
might be said to enter the very “jaws of
death,” if a. foe, however small, should
undertake to defend the pass.

Such was the spot selected by “Old
Put” for the establishing of a fort, from
which to hurl back the invading French
army, and all will admit that no other
could be equal to it in any respect. While
engaged -in the construction of his en-
trenchments, Lieutenant Durkee, with
five men, was sent a few rods beyond, at
the confluence of the lake with South
Bay, to give timely notice of the approach
of their enemies. Durkee constructed a
sort of ambush, and it was understood
that if they numbered no more than
twenty, he and his five men were to have
the privilege of disposing of them them-
selves without bothering the main body.

These arrangements being made, Put-
nam and his men set vigorously to work.
Their fortress, when finished, consisted
of a heavy wall of rock. four feet in
height, and of about the same thickness,
and extending along the lake, almost to
the same distance as the rock itself. This
made the interior of sufficient area to
give them a chance to move about freely,
In front, he arranged dwarf trees, under-
growth, small pines, and moss to cover
the rock, scattering leaves’ and small
brush, and deluging the surface with
dirty water, so that the eagle eye of an
Indian would not have suspected . that
there was any ambush in such a place.

Many a time, when Putnam, and, some
of his friends retired to a distance, and
surveyed it, the perfection of its simplic-
ity completely charmed them.

“Tf that isn’t about the nicest foe-trap
I ever set,” remarked Putnam, “then I’m
no judge of what such a thing is.”

“Yes, it will do,” replied Durkee, “if
them confounded French don’t come up
this way during the daytime, and their
redskins take a squint. at it.”

“What if they do? They’ll never sus-
pect there's any ambush laid here.”

“May be not, but those red dogs have
sharp eyes, and see things, sometimes,
that an ordinary man would take a tele-
scope to make out.”

“At any rate, we’ll have a good shot at
them when they do come, if there are
ten thousand.”

As yet it was not certain which route
the French would take—this way or up
the bay. Both were PraPinran 5 but there
was every reason to believe that the for-
mer would be their choice. There was no
doubt they would come in considerable
strength, and with a goodly number of
boats to carry back the plunder they were
sure of securing. At that time the French
knew there were enormous trains going
forward, by way of Saratoga to the head
of Lake George. At this very time Lord
Howe was pressing forward, and occu-
pied fully five miles of the narrow road
over which it was passing.

Time always passes wearily to those in
watching, and as day after day dragged
slowly by, the men began to grow impa-
tient for the coming of their enemies,
Putnam now and then began to fear that
they would take the other route, and
thus “flank” him and leave his party be-
hind; but, second thought, assisted by
the reasoning of Lieutenant Durkee, al-
ways succeeded in convincing him that in
all probability the much .deserved collis-
ion would very speedily take place.

On the fourth morning of their watch-
ing, their fisherman that they always
kept occupied, returned with the _an-
nouncement of very poor luck, and Put-
nam resolved on an extra dinner in the
shape of venison. The woods abounded
with them, but hitherto prudence had
forbidden them to discharge a gun, as
there was no. telling how near some of
the Indian scouts of Montcalm were,

Putnam knew all the paths and haunts
of the deer, and was confident he could
bring down a plump animal within a very
short time. Sure enough; he had watched
less than half an hour when a magnificent
buck came trotting by within a stone’s
throw. The next moment he made a wild
leap, ran a short distance, and then tum-
bled headlong to the ground.

For the sake of concealing the smoke of
their fire they had built it. under the
falls, where they now served up the deer,
and made a dinner such. as the choicest
epicure might have envied.

“T tell you what, major,” remarked the
cautious Durkee, “I don’t know about
the wisdom of this thing. We have had
a splendid dinner, but that rifle of yours
made a crack that a Mohawk would:have
heard a half-dozen miles away.”

“Ah, Durkee, you are too timid. . The

 

noise of the falls has either drowned it,
or so deadened it that no one has noticed
the report, Come to think, however, I
would be rather pleased if it had at-

  

 

tracted attention. Lam getting tired of
waiting here, and if I only knew of any-
thing that would hurry up the French I
would do it.”

“Never you. fear, major; they will be
along in due time, and we will have. our
hands*full in‘disposing of them. When
they do come it will be by hundreds.”

“You speak as if you knew, lieutenant;
I only hope-you do, and that there’ll be
enough of them to pay us for building
our fortress and watching so long.”

Lieutenant Durkee felt so much appre- |

hension regarding this shot of Putnam’s,
that at the conclusion of their meal he
shouldered -his gun, and started on a
reconnoissance up the lake. He gained
several eminent positions which afforded
him an extended view of the beautiful
sheet of water. He saw nothing of the
Indians or French, but on a distant pro-
jecting point. of land he descried the
faint smoke of a camp-fire.

He watched this for a long time, but
failed to discover any other signs of life,
and fianlly returned with the comfortable
assurance that the imprudent rifle shot—
as he regarded it—had fortunately not
been heard by hostile ears.

This day, like the preceding, gradually
wore away without any incident worth
recording.. Durkee’s men occupied their
ambush, and kept up an unremitting
watch of the lake for the first indieation
of the approach of the enemy. As soon
as it grew dusk the lieutenant joined his
men at South Bay, and it was scarcely
possible that the most wily foe could
come within range of - this battery of
lynx-eyed sentinels without being in-
stantly detected

The distance between Durkee and Put-
nam was such that they. could communi-
cate with each other by means of signals
with the greatest facility. It was agreed
that the call of the whip-poor will, re-
peated three times, with a slight interval

between each, should be the signal to |

Putnam that the enemy were coming. To
prevent. misconception the call was given
several times, and it was found that not
only Durkee himself, but every one of his
five men could give it with such remark-
able exactness that the bird itself would
be deceived.

As the night settled over the forest
and lake it was very dark, a state of
things which was unpleasant to _ the
Americans, as it prevented them from
seeing their enemies until they were close
at hand, although they might detect the
dip of their oars while yet at a consider-
able: distance. :

At nine o’clock, however, the clouds
cleared away, and the round, bright moon
revealed the shimmering surface of Lake
George, for miles beyond the ambush of
Durkee. Everything was more favorable
than they. had a right to suspect.

While the lieutenant sat watching, and |

a perfect silence reigned, he fancied he
detected a distant and faint.ripple of the
water. Bending bis head to make sure,
he was satisfied that he was, not mis-
taken. Looking over the lake, a moment
later, he saw the enemy coming, appar-
ently in vast numbers, their boats mov-
ing with the beautiful regularity of troops
upon parade.

So resolved was Lieutenant Durkee to
gather an idea of the precise number of
the advancing foes:that he refused to
give the signal for the space of several
minutes. Finally he judged them to be
about a thousand strong, and then delib-
erately and perfectly he gave the precon-
certed signal—the call of the whip-poor-
wil], repeated thrice.

Putnam instantly replied to the signal
to let Durkee know that it had been
heard and understood, while the brave
lieutenant, now satisfied that their course
would be up the creek, instantly left the
ambush with his men, and joined Putnam
at the barricade to assist in the defense.

“T think they are very nigh a thousand
strong, or else they have a most extraor.
dinary number of canoes.”

“You are right,” replied Putnam, and
turning his head so that his men might
hear him, he added: “Boys, are you
ready? Then ram acouple more bullets
home, and don’t let a whisper be heard
among you.”

At this moment the advance guard of
the enemy were within a few yards of the
mouth of the bay, and behind them came
the whole fleet, all gliding so noiselessly
that naught but the ripple of their pad-
dles could be heard.

The advance guard were composed of
Indians, and, as they entered the narrow
pass, they halted, for there was an air of
danger about the place that filled them
with suspicion. At the same. moment
the French leader of the advance’ fancied
he detected a noise upon shore, which
gave him also a thrill of apprehension. A
simultaneous halt of this part of the fleet
was made,.an Indian exclamation. of
alarm passed from boat to boat, and_ the
paddles were withdrawn and pointed up-
ward. They then clustered together, in
fearful suspense, for they knew that they
were under the cloud of danger.

The -preconcerted signal was the dis-

charge of Putnam’s gun, and as it burst
out upon the solemn stillness it was in-
stantly followed by the other forty double-
loaded rifles, that hurled death and de-
struction among the crowded enemy. The
Indians and French were terror-stricken.
Their canoes riddled by balls, their skip-
|}pers falling on one side, some sinking,
and all thrown into-the greatest con-<
fusion, contrasted terribly with the pro-
found stillness which had hitherto
reigned.

The French rallied, but the surviving
and terrified Indians dashed by in. their
canoes; but, as the braver whites main-<
tained their position, they returned and
joined them, until an order was given for
them to effect a landing, at a place now
known as the First Bend. This was very
near the ambush which Durkee had con-
structed and occupied so long, and to it
he and his companions slipped without
being observed. Each blunderbuss was
triply charged: and, as the canoes hud-
dled together to effect a landing the same
dreadfully murderous. volley was hurled
among them, scattering them with a
xreater panic, if possible, than before.

Still the French were unquestionably
brave, and they returned the fire immedi-
ately ; but they were firing at a concealed
foe, and their balls hurtled harmlessly
against the stones and among the trees.
As soon as they could reload the Ameri-
cans sent another terrific volley among
them, which could not be otherwise than
murderous, even if they had not paused
to take aim. The French, appreciating
their own disadvantage, retreated a
short distance, and kept up a scattering
fire, until Durkee saw them making off
to join the main army.

With a desperation almost incredible
the French leader of the advance had
maintained his position, although he had
detached several parties and sent them
with orders to land in other places. One
of these was encountered by one of Put-
nam’s rangers, who arrived just as a
powerful Indian was running his canoe
ashore, and was about to land. Five of
them sprang ashore simultaneously, when
the foremost was gored through Wy this
scout’s bayonet, and his comrades being
equally prompt, the others were hurled
back into the deep waters. They renewed
ithe attempt with furious bravery, but
| were driven back again, and finally the
| survivors left and joined the others. The
| Americans instantly joined Putnam and
Durkee at the main works, where it was
{found that only two of the patriots had
| been wounded. The French, knowing
|that the party disputing the pass was
| very small, continued their fire, hoping
|to reduce their strength and alarm them
|by a show of determination; but the
| Americans were too well protected to suf-
| fer in the least.
| The enemy, becoming convinced that it
| was impossible to force a passage, now
began a retreat in good order.

Turning to Durkee, Putnam said:

“See! they are retreating. -They are
ao to your ambush at the mouth of the

bay.”

“They are off, as sure as lightning; but
follow me, every one of you.”

Half-hending, so as to conceal their
bodies among the bushes and under-
growth, the rangers speedily reached their
rendezvous, from which they fired their
guns with the most fatal effect, and con-
tinued it until the foe had passed beyond
their range.

The loss of the French in this unfortu-
| nate affair, was two hundred and sixty-
three—their whole force, according to
| Montcalm, who, at that time, commanded
}'Ticonderoga, was just five hundred. Put-
inam had only two men wounded.
| On August 8,.1758, the French forced
| the passage, and captured Putnam, when,
| it will be remembered, he was_ subjected
|to terrible torture. The French officers,
‘after the war, stated that the horror
| awakened in the breasts of their men and
‘Indians at sight of the mangled corpses
of their comrades, was so great that, for
a time, they could not restrain them. The
place for many years after was known as
“Indian Bow,” which explains the title
we have placed at the head of our sketch.

———_+- e+ _____
THE RESTORED RIBBON.

Have two pieces of colored ribbon of ex-
actly the same size and appearance, one
of which being damped may be secured
in the palm of the hand, previous to ex-
hibiting. The other may be cut in pieces
andi burned in a plate by the audience.
Taking now the ashes, you call for a
‘basin of water, with which you moisten
| them, stating that by the magical influ-
/ence of the “cold water cure,” the color
| and form of the burned ribbon will be re-
|stored. Rubbing the damp ashes in the
| hand, you draw forth, at the same time,
fhe concealed ribbon, which will appear
to be the same that had been consumed.

—_____~+-6--« -——__—
ALGER, LOUNSBERRY, MORRIS. See
page 648.

 

 

 

 

   
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
    
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
    
  
  
     
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
     
     
     
    
  
 
  
    
    
  
  
  
   
    
 
 
   
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
   
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

 

   
NEWS.

 

 

o BESS SOURS Phone event GARTER”
ISSUED WEEKLY.
W. B. Lawson, Editor.

NEW YORK, FEBRUARY 14, 1891.

Terms to Mail Subscribers:
(POSTAGE FREE.)
S- 2-2-2 65c. | l copy, two years - $4.00

‘ ae ~2 eee 85c. | The New York Weekly and

6months - - - - - $1.25 | Goop News, both for one

One Year - - - - - 250|year -*-** - ° $4,

2 copies, one year- - 4.00 ; :
How To SEND Monry.—We will be responsible for

the receipt of money sent to us only when remittance
is made by Post-Office Money Order, Bank Check or
Draft, Registered Letter or Express Mone Order. We
particularly recommend cur subscribers to the Ameri-
can Express Company, who will receive subscriptions
at any of their offices, and guarantee the delivery of
any amount not over $5.00 for the low sum of five
cents. We cannot be responsible for money lost in
transit unless sent in one of the above ways.

To CLuB Ratsers.—We are at all times ready ana
willing to lend you all possible aid, and will send, free,
as many sample copies as oe think you can ju-
dicionsly use, toxether with other advertising matter.

Special inducements made for large clubs.

all letters should be addressed to

STREET & SMITH'S GOOD NEWS,

P. 0. Box 2734. 29 & 31 RoseStreet, N.Y.
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.

 

 

None of the stories published in GOOD NEWS
will appear in book-form.

Contents of this Number.

“J,ieutenant Carey’s Luck,” by Lieut.
Lionel Lounsberry.

“Shifting Winds,” by W. B. Lawson.

“White-Horse Fred,” by Harry Castlemon.

“Nothing but a Boy,” by Oliver Optic.

“Between the Lines,” by Lient. James K.

Orton.

“Daring Deeds of Boys,” by Nathan D.
Urner.

“Journal of a Jolly Drummer,” by the author
of ** A Bad Boy’s Diary.”

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

“Indian Bow,” by Edward S. Ellis.

“A Breach of Promise Case,” by
Adeler.

‘Interesting Facts,” by John R. Coryell.

And the usual interesting departments.
—_—_——_+-e-e—___——

Letter From Pine Ridge.

Knowing that our young friends are as
much interested in the Indian uprising in
Dakota ag older heads, we take pleasure in
printing the following letter, received by
Lizvt. Lionen, Lounsperry, the author of
‘Cadet Carey” series:

Prinz Rivas Acenoy, 8. D.,
January 14, 1891.

 

Max

Street & SMITH,

81 Rose St., New York.

Your letter of recent date was a welcome
visitor to my tent; in fact, anything out of
the usual run of camp life and fighting
Indians is received out in this’ wilderness

Dear Frrenp LOUNSBERRY :

with open arms. I will gladly assist you in
every possible way to write up your proposed
new story.

Since Sitting Bull has gone to the ‘Great
Spirit in the Happy Hunting Grounds,” the
hostiles are weakening, and it is only a ques-
tion of days when they will be glad to sur-
render. ‘There has been a numberof scrim-
mages outside of camp between the boys and
roving bands of hostile Indians, that the
newspaper correspondents have not reported.

The sad ending of brave Captain Wallace,
which you have, no doubt, read about in the
Eastern papers, was the most cowardly act
ever perpetrated in the history of Indian
war. The brave fellow, to save one of his
own men, who had fallen, from being scalped
by the red devils, met death himself. His
body when found showed that he was shot
twice, tomahawked and then scalped.

The data and incidents of the fights which
I sent you by special messenger last week, I
hope reached you in good condition.

I was interrupted while writing this letter
by a commotion in the company street.
Hurrying outside, I asked the guard the cause
of the unusual noise, and he said the Indians
were coming back to the Agency. I glanced
at the crowd and discovered only squaws and
children. ,The wily redskins have sent in
the ‘‘deadwood,” so to speak, so as not to be
incumbered. It looks to me now as if a hard
fight was inevitable.

Sincerely hoping that you and your army
of young readers are all well and enjoying
life, I remain, Yours truly,

Kir Canzy,

 

A SAFE COMBINATION.

We do not mean a combination that will
open a bank safe, but a combination that
will open the eyes of all our readers. We
will commence in numbers forty-three,
forty-four, and forty-five new stories by

LOUNSBERKY,
ALGKH,
MORRIS.

This grand array of talent has never
appeared at the same time in any paper
before, and we know our readers will appre-
ciate the efforts we are making to please
them. The stories are full of life and ad-
venture of the present day.

Interesting, Amusing, and Instructing.

In the serial which will beyin in NUM-
BER FORTY-THREE, we have one of the
best of Mr. Auamr’s stories. It is entitled:

FRANK AND FEARLESS ;

FORTUNES OF JASPER KENT.

In NUMBER FORTY-FOUR will appear
a ole serial, involving the adventures
and exploits of Carrarn Kir Carry in the

 

Northwest. Knowing that our readers are
interested in the Indian question at Pine
Ridge, we have had a story written in
which very little fiction appears. It is|
written from facts, and the letters which we
will publish direct from the field, we hope,
will be interesting. Many readers have fol-
lowed the fortunes and trials of Kir Carry,
from border life to a West Point Cadet, and
then a Lieutenent in the Army. Great
interest will attach to the narrative of his
splendid success in his new position, as

Capt. Carey of the Gallant 7th;
FIGHTING THE INDIANS AP PINE RIDGE

BY LIEUT. LOUNSBERRY.

NUMBER FORTY-FIVE will contain the
opening chapters of a new story on a sub-
ject that is bound to please all boys and
girls, as it portrays the bright and dark
sides of life of a boy and girl performing
in a circus for a living. The incidents
and striking situations related by the
author in this story, are from facts
gathered while traveling through the
country with them. The title is:

SLAVES OF THE CIRCUS:
THE ROYAL AMPHITHEATER.

BY WALTER MORRIS.

 

LOOK OUT FOR Nos, 48, 44, 45.

LETTER * E”
GUESSING CONTEST.

OVER $400
CIVEN AWAY IN

PRIZES.

mG

In the early part of last summer we
started a guessing contest entitled Letter
“A” Guess, and gave away $160 in money
prizes. It proved such an interesting feat-
ure to our readers that we have prepared a
similar contest on a much larger scale.

READ CAREFULLY THE FOLLOWING TERMS:

To any reader of this paper who shall, at
any time on or before February 7, 1891, be
the first to send us the nearest correct guess
of the combined number of times the
letter ‘‘e” (in any size or style of type, cap-
itals and italics included) will be contained in
all the printed matter that will appear in the
first column of the second page of ten is-
sues of this paper, dated January 17, 24, 31,
February 7, 14, 21, 28 and March 7, 14, 21,
we will give a University Royal Organ; for
the second nearest guess we will give a Bicy-
cle (American Ideal Rambler); for the third,
a New Model Hall Type-writer; for the
fourth and fifth, a Gold Filled Case Watch;
for the sixth and seventh, a Concert Roller
Organ, and 225 other prizes divided in five
classes, will be given away. Read the list
below. Guess the total for the ten issues—
not a separate guess for each issue,

Only ordinary reading matter will be put
in the first column of the second page in
the ten issues, the same as if no guessing
were going on. No one knows in advance
what reading matter will appear in these
columns, not even the editor. An official
count will be made, and the result given as
soon as possible after the last of the ten
issues are published.

The prizes in our letter ‘‘e” contest
are intended for the readers of Goop Nrws
only, and guesses sent unaccompanied
by the certificate cannot be recognized as
competitors. You can guess as many times
as you have certificates. The prizes were
all illustrated in No. 37 of Goop Nrws.

The only condition of entry for the prizes
is that you send the certificate found on
the first page with every guess. To give our
readers living at a distance an equal chance
with those living near-by,
mailing will count—not the time of receipt.
Remember the competition closes February
7, 1891, and after that no guesses can be for-
warded. Cut out the certificate you find
on the first page of this paper, and send it to
us with your guess, name, and full address
clearly written.

You can guess as many times as you have

Mare:

e invite ull of our readers to take part
in this grand Prize Comprtirion. Large
prizes may be secured by those who are
the most clever, and use the greatest care.

LIST OF PRIZES.

ist Prize—University Royal Organ, made by
Marchal & Smith—Catalogue price............ .. $125

2nd Prize—Safety Bicycle, American Ideal Ram:
bler, made by Gormully & Jeffery, price.........

3rd Prize—New Model Hall Ty vewriter, ETON. 2. ek 40

4th and 5th Prizes—Gold Filled Case Watch, guar-
anteed 15 years, Open-Face, Split-Second Horse
BT TEN le RR AR SNe iad

6th and 7th Prizes—New American Concert Roller
Organ, Automatic Musical Instrument, price $6

eac.
8th aan ae Rolled Gold Plate Charm (Revol-
WOOD ci sayin Wk von tsh Catia vie eats eats tibet
ee eons Charm, Rolled Gold Plate, Onyx
one
“10th Class—15 Napkin Rings, Quadruple Plate... .
llth Class—40 Bottles of Wenck’s Perfume........ 30
12th Class—60 Printing Outfits, Rubber Type....... 30
13th Class—50 Uncle Sam’s Base-Ball Games......... 25
ldth Class—60 Unique Friendship Rings...... ..... 16
$406

“10th Class means the nearest fifteen guesses to the
winner of the 9th prize. The 11th Class will be the
forty nearest guesses to the winners of the 10th Class,
the 12th, 13th and 14th Class prizes will be awarded in

, the same manner. Address

Goop NEws “GuEssIneg CONTEST,”
31 Rose St., N. Y.

See illustrations of the above prizes in

No. 87 “Good News.”
——— <9 0

E want the readers of Goop News
to send us the names of all their
friends and acquaintances who

have not received a copy of our paper.

Our object is to place Goop News in the
hands of every boy reader in the United
States and Canada,

 

T icklets,

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER.

Had Seen Fido.

Mrs. De Flatte—‘‘Boy, did you see a stray pug
dog around here anywhere?”

Smart Boy—‘‘Yes’m. I just saw one bein’ chewed
up by a big bull-dog, an’ I saw another bein’ tied
to a tin can an’ kerosene poured all over ’im, an’
saw another being chopped up fer sausage, an’-””

Mrs. De Flatte (clutching at a railing for sup-

ort)—‘‘Ooo! Horrors! I’d give $5 to get my
ittle Fido safely back.”

Smart Boy—‘‘All right, mum. You wait here
half a minute.”

An Unheard-of Request.

Male Passenger—‘I want to get off at the next
corner.”

Conductor—“‘All right. I'll slow up so you kin
jump.”

Passenger—“I want you to stop the car.”

Conductor—‘‘Stop th’ car ? Great snakes! Mebby
y’d like me to stop th’ world goin’ round, too, 80
you'd have a sure footin’.”

A Painful Case.

Mrs. Gotham—“Dr. Brownston says he has &
patient whose heart is on the right side, and all
the digestive organs are wrong side to, and, i
fact, his whole internal organism is topsy turvy-

Mr. Gotham—‘‘Is it Mr. Bullion ?”

Mrs. Gotham—‘‘The doctor did not mention any
names. Why do you think it is Mr. Bullion?”

Mr. Gotham—‘‘He always rides in a cab.”

Measuring by the Eye.
Young Lady—‘I want a pair of shoes, large and
comfortable. Two will do.”
New Boy (glancing at her foot)—Mr. Leather
thelady wants two shoes, large and comfortable.
Where’s that box of sixes ?”

Nothing Very New. '

Mrs. De Visite—Good afternoon, Miss Blank
Is your mother at home?”

Miss Blank—“No. She has gone to Mrs. De
Mugg’s Progressive Conversation Party. By the
way, what sort of a party is that, Mrs. De Visite *

Mrs. De Visite—‘‘It is one at which the convel-
sation begins with art, science, and literature, a04
progresses very rapidly to fashions, gossip, 2)
servants,”

Ready for Business.

Caller (Western newspaper office)—‘I want 10
see the editor.”

Office Boy—‘Editor’s gone off fer six weeks.
Leave yer bill with me, an’ I'll give it to him whe2
he gits back.”

“I haven't got a bill. I’ve got a club.”

“Editor's up stairs, sir.”

Polite Perkins.

Mrs. Gotham (to new butler)—*Don’t you think
Perkins, that our elevated roads are much super
ior to the underground roads of London ?” h

Perkins (who took his first ride during 4 re
hour)—“They his, mum; fer them has ’asn't 0
corns hand likes company, mum,”

Paying the Piper. :
Inquiring Boy (looking up from a pook)—" What
does ‘paying the piper’ mean ?” aul
Worried Father (absently)—‘Tell him to ©
next aoe
“I said ‘the piper,’ pa.”
“Well, if it’s a plumber, he needn’t call for #

the date of , ™onth.”

A “First” Lesson. 2
Boston Child—“Did you hear that man? #
said ‘fur-ist,’” : ted
Chicago Aunty—‘Never mind, pet ; only educ@
people know enough to say ‘fust.’”

In a Quandary. ol

Patrick—‘‘Plaze, sor, it’s a bit color bloind
am. Wud yo tell me phwether that bit 0’ rib
do be blue or grane ?” It

Employer—“It ig neither one nor the other. ver
is a bluish green or a greenish blue whiche
way you look at it.”

Patrick—‘“‘Bad luck t’ th’ sthore kaper
sold it. Of got thot bit o’ ribbon on an in
party, an’ Oi can’t tell phwether it’s to be an O
wake or a timperance tay.”

A Western Post-office. is

Tenderfoct (in new Kansas town)—-“Where
the post-office ?”

Resident—‘‘Over there.”

“Where ?”

“Dye see that man sawing wood? He
postmaster.”

“Yes, but I don’t see the post-office.”

“Of course you don’t. It’s in his hat.”

A Genuine Fauntleroy.
Little Son—«I let two poor little boys ride
me on my sled all the afternoon, We beat

1g the

with
every

2| one on the hill.”

Fond Mamma—“I am delighted to learn that my
little son is so generous.” ed the

Little Son—‘“The more there is on @ 1
faster it goes.”

City Snow... '

Little City, Miss—“'The stories in my Christmas
book isn’t true. ‘They is just made up.”

Mamma—‘How do you know ?” played

« Cause, it says the children went out all’ Pits ig
in the soft white snow. Snow isn't while-
brown,”

A Way Out.

Anglomaniac—That’s the way 1t goes. a
hunt foxes, folks say we're cruel; if we bu
seed bags, folks laugh at us. What can we
without exciting indignation or ridicule ?

Small Boy—*‘Rats !”

Mixed Up Relations. it
Mistress (angrily)—“Who was that who : of
out of the door as | came in ? Another on :
numerous cousins, I presume ?” 0
Pretty Servant—‘No’m. He ain’t no relation
mine, mum. He’s one of yours.”

An Important Point.
i Mrs. Blifkins (reading)—‘“‘The points of fin :
ur are, first, the texture—”
Mr. Blifking—"Humph! seems to me the 78
point is the price.”

If we
t aut

ed
Par

e seal

 

aHF
OF

| By

 

a Wan
can be o|

; Cl
No

HR fi
IP brealcfa

'0 walk
i 8e the
 

 

 

GoonD NEWS.

(at Lewes he had learned from the sailor
Bart.

The darkness was intense, for the moon,

being farin her decline, would not rise

j
Ox, until long after midnight.
TI | They had to feel their way along, and
OF THE COAST CANOES. several times came near being run down,

so at Paul’s suggestion both lanterns
were lighted and hung from the main-
mast, both to show them the way, and to

| serve as a warning to moving vessels.
Once a yawl, manned by three rough
@ Wins” was commenced in No. 36. Back Sailor men, came plunging down, and
Mean be obtained of all News Agents.] threatened to dash into the Dolphin.
Bote Jerry’s dexterity “yes him, and he just

T ot his boat out of the way.
CHAPTER XVII. _ The men began abusing him as though
h NORFOLK AHOY! it was his fault, whereupon each of the
. cruisers dived into the bowels of his boat,
Hy q first thing the boys did after and reappeared, holding a leveled shot
nl iaakfast on the next morning, was gun, whereupon the men showed signs of
% °° Walk over to the light-house and a panic and pulled away as if mad.

Se the keeper. | “Follow me in here,” said Jerry. at

 

*—— }

Nine 2”: B- LAWSON,
| Hor ot “Te Young Duck Hunters,” etc.

 

ieee matty ommenieeae

1h : s
Hhyrts already Bp in the tower clean- see Ehs as he led the way into a little
asin.

lh Blass, and they ascended.

receiving an answer, lay down to sleep.)
Paul was to remain awake until two, |
and then the third watch would fall to
Jerry.

Paul did not smoke, so he had to amuse
himself building air castles while he sat
there. The sides of his little tent were
up, and he could see in two directions,
toward the city and out on the water in
the direction of the James River.

He noted the flash of the light-house on
the reef off Fortress Monroe, and which |
marked the northern boundary.of the
river as distinguished from the main part
of Chesapeake Bay.

This light had an attraction for him.
He was deeply interested in all light-
houses, and felt the greatest concern in
the men who generally lead such solitary
lives in order to take care of the lamps.

He looked upon it as the most philan-
thropical business the government was
engaged in—the saving of human life
from the treacherous sea, That nation is
most humane that expends more for its

 

Paul did so. ; é
Here they were again at another city,

hyvltW was splendid, the ocean on
: Side ; j
. » @od the Chesapeake on the

light-house service than for its army.
aul heard a clock strike. It was mid-

 

ac” Vessels were in sight, and one
P thongs chOSS the water could be seen ..
hme? of Virginia below the
Rlonte: Norfolk, Portsmouth,

Ro, 888 Monroe lay.

i Occurred the most
tina, Ster battle of the
* aft When the Merri-
‘, * destroying the
‘tal qcssels of the
ist ane nment, ran
Ni Moni, the shape

fy, WO
NSS
IY

oa
=

   
 

Mian Seper 5 2 14 co 7 \
Beth atid sng ted oie PACHA —S— by fp \
ast : Ys
Raa” that Jerry had YY \
i tre :
iy Was a Sailing ves-

C ,

Yin red just below.

- € craft out to
tr captain ex-

to jeave for Nor-

l Wo on,

Bia be wise for

In the Paddle out to

a
ae

ere

<a

a tet captain,
Consideration,
© the canoes

Ais

U

ag ey decided to be

long thg that could

wag 2Or, although

I Wa Much sea on

0 ‘a fool-hardy to
rOssing in such

hey might

sea,

oa

 
    
  
   

 

Went i :

Y Y minutes i Lor

hey’ 4 @longside the FL j

y ed ca rs Bates, the ES,

hate rate looking S~— e~ :
Nor nh amusement at their and <>

\ because

My pty tab followed. of the bad

4) a 2 consented to) take them characters usu-

tha edd
st the {med a very reasonable sum,
pidds 05S jumped at the offer.
hy themeeno® light work, and at ten
fate Safe ves and all their belong-
ttt hou, on board the Alice Bates.
Vy! Sail e ater she catted her anchor
Meat Under Norfolk, where the cap-
tel by th, contract to appear with
tis? Wa 16 sixteenth.

yg ad 4cross, he asked numerous
My’nd jP2tding their past experi-
tt Party Was plain to be seen that
* Q haq account of this curiosity

ally found along
the water front
they dared not both
sleep at the same time.
It must be watch and
watch, by turns.

Paul was anxious for
morning to come,

He desired to find out
whether the steam launch had
really arrived or not. The mys-
terious Captain Cross had a sub-
tle fascination for him, and he

Me Consented to take them | earnestly apped the time would
ba & Splend; . soon come when the other would
it Was id sail. open his lips and tell what he

knew.

Norfolk is not a noisy city.

Our young friends houad hear some
carousing at a saloon not far away, and
hoped no prowling fellow would discover
them in the basin.

On this account they put out their lan-
terns aS soon as supper was done, not de-
siring to have eayecanese visitors.

A canoe is not a novelty nowadays in
most Northern towns, but down South
we hear of no canoe clubs save in Flor-
ida, and at many places along the coast,
thriving towns, too, the people looked at
the small crafts of our young cruisers as
though they could hardly believe their
eyes, One man declared the first wave
would crush the delicate craft like an
eggshell, and on the next morning he
saw the boys put off in a gale that would
have caused larger craft to scuttle for
port. Probably that man knows more
than he did before, and can well believe
appearances are deceitful. A huge wave
might crush a canoe to splinters, but. the
little boat does not wait to receive it—
like the Irishman’s flea, when the wave
descends, the canoe is somewhere else,
perhaps on top of the very billow that
threatened.

Jerry took the first watch.

me, so that our friends had
x Dags pect their action.

Ay, Ang rithin sight of Fortress
\ “ ; minen crossed through Hamp-
" + New. U8 the turn away from
it, ty thes to Norfolk, in front of
ty Y anchored just as the day

Ney tpl
Ay Meret had been well carried out.
10d wit)” far upon their Southern
Mivell, 7th another day's trip, if all
Ate Migng other day's trip, if a
Ny Wat expect to be upon the
fon rs, and enter upon North
Ys qjqtready being lighted up.
\ Sy 9 id not a ae
h fo, Vey ,; 0% Care to remain on the
i ala. Night hey’ & les
the €eping 28 they saw no clean
int Water ff So getting their boats
tot. » “Aey loaded up, and then

D ;
itty om inion steamer had just
ae et) ib York, being late, and
ity ke of Pr Passed by they paddled
a ate Diers 1e Wyanoke, coming in
eanet

red, nd

a

he 8e
Matte ~ and heard nothing of the
bey 0 of aving Lewes, and it was

ye ti bracing, and the schooner

mean to leave Norfolk
whether the steam launch

 

tyshe haao™me. moment to Paul, He could enjoy himself with his pipe,
Orf,124 react 3 : J9% L
Tol; ne 1ed here, and did not count the time as wasted.

 

48 her destination, while| At about eleven, he called Paul and

 

649

“I have the same feeling, and asa
general thing I’m not the one to chase

| goblins, but something seems to tell me

there is deviltry going on out there.”

Jerry was silent a few seconds.

He knew what was in his companion’s
mind.

Paul had an idea it was the steam
launch that had stolen in after dark and
anchored there. He believed there was

|trouble aboard of her, and that he could

render Captain Cross some service, if he
were on hand, which the other would re-
pay by lifting the awful veil of the past.

Jerry had a choice on his hands. His
bed was very inviting—duty to his chum
beckoned him on the other side.

“Paul, shall we go out and investigate?”

“Just as you say, Jerry.”

“Then we'll go.”

“hanks.”

Paul was not effusive, and a word from
him meant as much as volumes from
some. He knew his friend did this for
his sake, and the kindly act drew them
closer together.

When canoeists are cruising together,

 

 
 
      
 
 
 
  
  

d MD HWA

Sy

\

‘HAUT, THERE!” SAID JERRY, SUDDENLY. AN EXCLAMATION OF SUR-
PRISE CAME FROM THE PARTY ADDRESSED,

night’s solemn hour, when he was aroused |
by a cry sounding over the water near by.

CHAPTER XVIII,
AT DEAD OF NIGHT,

AUL bent his ear to listen.

Surely that meant danger to some
one. It was a call for help.

What should he do—arouse Jerry,
so that they might take action in the
premises?

He was saved much bother in this di-
rection, for Jerry’s quiet voice was heard.
He had chanced to be awake at the mo-
ment.

“What was that, Paul?”

A head, covered with the inevitable
blue tuque, was thrust out of the tent of
the Dolphin.

“I’m afraid there’s some trouble over
yonder where you see that anchor light.”

% nae that’s a vessel.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“But she lies about in the line we took
to get in here.”

“That’s a fact.”

“She wasn’t there, then.”

“It may be the Alice Bates pushed
farther in.”

“And the cry came from that quarter?”

“Direct.”

“It makes me uneasy. I feel as though
something dreadful were going on.”

 

 

 

 
     
  
  
   
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
 

every man must be willing and obliging,
or the whole trip will be a fiasco. If each
is willing to exert himself for the pleas-
ure and comfort of the rest, an en-
joyable time will be the result,
Both boys proceeded to drop
their tents.
This was only the work
of a minute, seeing that
they did not unbutton the
bottom, but drew the tent
into the cockpit after don-
ning a coat, and secur-
ing a weapon.

The anchors next claimed
attention.

_ “All right?” asked Jerry
in a low tone.

~ Ves,”

“Then away to the res-
cue.”

Perhaps Jerry was hav-
ing a little fun out of this
midnight escapade. Paul
did not mind his jokes, if
he only carried out the idea,
and, perhaps, before long he
would discover that it was
a serious business after all.

A light fog had drifted

in from the ocean since
darkness set in,

This curtain was not
denes enough to hide a

light from them at a short
distance, and Jerry had his
eyes on the gleam that he
believed to be the rising
light of some vessel.

The paddles.dipped in the
water, and they were off.

Swiftly the two canoes
glided along through the
water. Noiselessly they ap-
ee the spot where the

anging light was seen.

Paul’s heart was literally
in atremble. He seemed to
think that cry had been
meant especially for him,
and that it had the greatest
bearing on his life.

He watched eagerly for
some signs that would tell
them the nature of the ves-
s

 

el.

It could hardly be the
Alice Bates, the light was
too low down to be hang-
ing in her rigging, and yet
the chances seemed fifty to
one against its being the
vessel he believed it was.

They were now close by.

Through the darkness and
; fog he could see the very,
faint outlines of the craft.

His heart figuratively came into his
throat, for the evidence multiplied. He
began to feel an assurance now that this
was the Vesper.

Jerry, too, had seen it.

He was now alongside Paul’s craft,
having allowed the. other to overtake
him.

“Paul,” softly.

Yes.”

—————

Oy)

“Tt’s her, sure enough.”

“T suspected it,” solemnly answered his
friend.

“Let the tide carry us around her stern.
We can then each take a side and pull

p.

The advice was well given and Paul
found no objections to carrying it out.

Dropping behind the anchored fifty-foot
launch, they made use of their paddles,
and came up one on the starboard the
other to port.

Paul, groping about, found a chock
through which he passed his painter, and
made fast to a cleat just beyond. Having
accomplished this, he took up his gun
and crawled aboard the steam launch.

He had a peculiar sensation while
doing so—as if he were a thief in the
night. What if, after all, they had been
mistaken about the matter—that there
was no cal) for help from the boat—then
their presence here would be miscon-

 
 
   
  
  
  
   
 
 
   
 
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
 
   
   
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
   
      
    
  
   
  
   
    
 
    
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
    
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
    
  
 
   
  
   
 
   
    
 
 
  
       
 
   
  

 

     
   
     
  

 

  

650

 

GOOD

NEWS.

     

 

 

strued, and they might be treated as river
thieves,

The situation was pecullar and embar-
rassing. Pauli almost wished he had not
been so hasty now in boarding the craft,
for he knew how strict marine law is, a
man’s vessel being his castle, which he
is justified in defending against all com-
ers.
All seemed as stillas death aboard the
boat.

He might have looked tor sounds that
would tell him of some awful deed, but
as yet they had not materialized, and
everything was wrapped in mystery.

He crept a few feet forward. Some-
thing moving caught his eye, and he be-
came convinced that it was a human fig-
ure.

Could this be the watch about to hurl
himself forward upon the intruder? Paul
had a spasm of alarm, for he dared not
shoot, and at the saioe time did not want
to be maltreated?

If they caught him could he not be in-
dicted for piracy upon the high seas?

Who would believe his story to the
effect that he bad come out to the boat
in answer to acry for help? ‘Then again,
this looked like the Vesper, but it might
be some other steam yacht, and should
this prove to be the case, the situation
became more alarming.

“Paul!” came in a low whisper.

He remembered then that he had a
companion in the game—it was Jerry he
had been watching crawling in his direc-
tion. This relieved him in a measure
from his anxiety—the danger, at least,
was not so great.

“On deck, Jerry,” he breathed back.

The-young medical student was now on
his side, and he felt a great deal better.

“Did you hear it?” asked Jerry.

“TIt—no, what do you mean?”

“Listen—there it is again,”

This time Paul made no mistake,
What he had taken for the grating of the
anchor cable of the vessel was in reality
a human groan of anguish.

 

CHAPTER XIX,
| THE MEANING OF THAT STRANGE CRY.

fy HEN this unmistakable groan
1 WAYACZ reached his ears, all of Paul’s
fears returned,

He could imagine terrible
things as having occurred»on hoard the
big steam launch, and once again he
found himself glad he had come, though
just a minute before he had been lament-
ing the foolishness that brought him
there.

The gun, which he had been ashamed to
be seen carrying, he now gripped de-
cisively, and made up his mind it would
come in handy if there was trouble
aboard the launch.

Jerry seemed puzzled just how to pro-
ceed.

“Paul, have you any idea what it
means?” he asked, in his friend’s ear,
while the groans came regularly to their
ears.

“T have not,” replied the other.

“My first idea was that some of these
river rats, like the men that tried to

et into our boats, had come on board

ere and half-murdered the watch.”

“Don’t believe it.”

“Why?”

“See nothing of a boat about here.”

“My idea exactly, Paul. Glad you
struck it. Then the trouble must come
from on board.”

“ Yes. ”

“Sure this is the Vesper?”

“Looks like it, but there may be an-
other boat of the same build.”

“Hardly likely to be here.
us creep on.”

“Toward the man who groans?”

“Yes. The mystery can be cleared up
best by finding out what ails him.”

They began to advance again.

All this while the only sounds that met
their ears were those terrible groans,
which appeared to indicate that some
one was in dire distress. ;

The nearer they crept the plainer they
became.

Jerry put his hand on Paul’s arm. :

“TI see a body on the deck,” he whis-

ered.

Paul shuddered.

He was not accustomed to scenes such
as had been a daily sight to the medical
student, and the prospect of beholding a
man badly wounded inspired him with
feelings the opposite to Jerry’s profes-
sional ones.

They crept forward.

The groans ceased, as though the
wounded man had either expired or else
was aware of their coming, it was impos-
sible to tell which,

In another moment they were bending
over the form of the man.

“Tt’s Brad!” said Paul, in horror.

“That settles it, then. This is the Ves-

“Ts he dead?”
Jerry had madea superficial examina-
tion—it was hard to do even this in the

Come, let

 

semi-darkness, but he was quite an ex-

pert,

“No, he’s only swooned away. He has
lost, considerable blood, and is very
weak.”

“What do you suppose happened? He
couldn’t have fallen down and hurt him-
self, Jerry?”

“No, he’s been struck down, and it
was a crazy blow that brought him here.
Some one crept up behind and dealt it
to him.”

“Do ‘you suppose that person is still
aboard?” for Paul’s mind went to Captain
Cross.

“The boats are both in position, so I
don’t think he has gone ashore, unless he
swam.”

“Then we must find him,”

“ Yes. ”

“And secure him if he has gone crazy.”

“That is true. Hark!”

As Jerry spoke there arose a tremendous
din near at hand, that sounded strangely
upon the night air.

It was as if some one had taken a
hatchet, and was pounding upon a cabin
door. At the same time there came
hoarse cries that seemed to be like those
of a man made crazy by drink.

The boys looked at each other in the
gloom, which was only partially dispelled

y the light hung up to show passing
vessels where the launch lay at anchor.

“Is that Captain Cross?”

“It doesn’t sound like him.”

“Hush! [ saw some one glide past the
light yonder. He seems to be coming
this way.”

Paul held his very breath, as, looking
toward the light, he realized that Jerry
spoke the truth. Some one was coming
their way. He could see a crouching form
stealing along, very much as a_ deer
stalker might creep up on his shy quarry.

Who it could be they had no idea, but
an enemy beyond all reasonable doubt.

The mystery still hung ‘over the boat,
and refused to be cleared up.

Both the boys got down as low as they
could crouch, and with weapons held in
readiness awaited the coming of the dark
form, which, being between themselves
and the light they could watch easily.

The advancing man no doubt heard the
groans of Brad, for he had started in
again.

Now and then the racket began’ again,
down near the cabin, as the crazy party
who held the hammer beat a tattoo upon
the door, calling out in a fearful way for
the inmate to show himself.

Was the advancing party in league
with the man who carried on in such a
fearful manner? -

Jerry had his doubts.

He whispered to Paul not to fire unless
he gave the order, and then, as the mys-
terious ynknown had reached a spot close
by, he suddenly said:

“Halt, there!”

An exclamation of surprise came from
the party adéressed, but he obeyed the
order promptly.

“Who are you?” demanded Jerry.

“The owner of this boat,” came the re-
ply.

Paul felt a warm flush go over his face.

“It’s him, Jerry,” he whispered,
hoarsely.

“Your name?” demanded the other.

“Captain Cross.”

“What does this mean, captain?”

“Simply that my engineer has gone
crazy through drink, and I fear has mur-
dered poor Brad. Luckily I keep my cabin
door locked, and it being a stout one, he
has failed to break through, though it
has not been from lack of trying.”

“How come you out here, captain?”

“JT made up my mind the wretch must
be secured or knocked down, and managed
after some difficulty to climb out of a
large bull’s eye in the cabin.”

Plainly, Captain Cross had recognized
who his visitors were, and was filled with
surprise, but this was not the time for
asking questions. The situation was a
delicate one, as the crazed engineer might
at any moment rush out and assault
them with his hammer.

They must unite their forces and ac-
complish whatever was to be done.

“We are here to assist you, Captain
Cross. Tell us what to do,” said Paul.

“Come, this is kind and neighborly of
you,” returned the strange man, warmly.
“Are you both ready to join me in secur-
ing that wretch?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. That’s American to the back-
bone. He is still at the cabin door, for T
hear him. Wemust creep up on him as
quietly as we can. Then, ata signal from
me, do one of you strike a match. As his
attention is drawn in that quartér I will
spring upon him. Do you understand the
idea, boys?”

“We do.”

“Then there is no need of further talk.
Follow me, and we will soon make him a
prisoner.”

One minute, captain,” said Jerry.

“Well?”

“Suppose the man makes a resistance or
attacks us with a weapon?”

 

 

 

“T see, you want to be on theright side.
You are both armed, are you not?”

“Yes, sir. I havea revolver and Paul
a gun,”

“Then, if he assaults you, shoot him.
He’s a crazy devil, bent on murder, and
anybody is justified in defending them-
selves.”

CHAPTER XX.
THE STRANGE SILENCE OF CAPTAIN CROSS.

Tel IS advice was perfectly right, and

  

+ fh although the boys shuddered at
4. the bare thought of taking human

life, they were brave enough to de-
fend themselves against the assault of a
madman,

They followed Captain Cross, who knew
just where the rum-crazed engineer was,
and how he could best be reached.

Any one could tell his position in the
dark, for he was still pounding away in
mad humor on the inoffensive cabin door,
fortunately made of oak, all the while ut-
tering peculiar cries that could only eman-
ate from a man suffering from great ex-
citement,

They were almost a minute in drawing
near the spot where the man stood. That
he had not noticed their coming was evi-
dent, for he still kept up the racket.

Jerry had a* dozen parlor matches
grasped firmly in his right hand. When
the signal came from the captain he
meant to illumine the spot.

As for Paul, he was nervous over the
matter, not on account of himself, but for
fear something might happen to the cap-
tain.

Strange, what an interest he felt in
this man, because he seemed to take such
a fancy to him as to follow him on his
cruise, Had he known positively that
Captain Cross was his father he could
hardly have felt more attached to him.

They were now in position. The crazy
engineer still pounded and shrieked as
his delirium urged, and knew not of their
presence.

During a momentary lull in the confu-
sion Jerry heard the low whistle which
was to be the signal for his part of the
work to begin.

At the same time he received a severe
nudge from the elbow of his companion,
proclaiming that Paul had also heard the
whistle.

Jerry was wise enough to wait a few
seconds until the racket began anew, so
that the man would have his attention oc-

oo a

Vhen this happened he suddenly drew
the matches along a spot he had pre-
viously marked.

Instantly a sheet of flame sprang up,
and the scene was lighted as by day.

The crazy engineer started back witha
cry of amazement, as though taken com-
pletely by surprise.

He had no time to recover ere Captain
Cross had hurled his whole weight upon
him. The madman struggled desper-
ately, but he had met his master, for the
athletic sailor seemed to know just how
to take hold of him.

Paul stepped forward, ready to give
any assistance in his power, even to
knocking the wretch on the head with the
butt of his gun, if necessary, while Jerry,
looking around, had discovered a lantern
hanging near by, to which he bastened to
communicate the fire from his almost ex-
hausted matches.

The engineer was a strong man, and his
delirium gave him additional power; but
he had been seized in a way that made
him helpless.

Captain Cross, in leaping upon his
back, had inserted his arms in the other’s
elbows, drawing them back in a manner
that prevented him from making an ef-
fectual resistance.

“Paul, look for a piece of rope,” he said,
quickly.

The engineer was struggling like a
demon, but he could not shake off the
grasp upon him. Paul looked hastily
around and discovered what he sought.

Eagerly he grasped it, followed the di-
rections given by Captain Cross, passed
it through the hook made by the en-
gineer’s elbows, and in another minute
the crazed man was helpless.

When this was doubly assured the
captain released his hold. His first act
was to grasp Paul’s hand, and Jerry also
came in for his hearty praise.

“You’ve done me a good turn, boys,
which I shali not forget. Let us see to
poor Brad.’ We can talk afterward.”

The engineer’s feet were quickly se-
cured with a hitch, that would prevent
his wandering,

Then, taking the lantern, they hurried
over to where Brad had been lying.

He was no longer groaning, and they
were surprised and pleased to find him
sitting up in a dazed way, as though
wondering what had happened.

His head was cut, but it was not se-
rious, and Jerry quickly declared he could
not have been struck by the hammer, or
his skull would have been crushed in like
an eggshell,

 

    

Brad’s story was brief
struck him on top of the he

  
     
  
  
   
    

  
  

      
         
 

¥ >
was sitting there, and he seme ew nt tains,
fire flashing from his eyes. Be og It sh
more until he came to his sera gore &eon Po
yoacared Hey he came to be theres = Yes,
and dazed. +} coe *0, and
Jerry bathed the man’s head we trust a,
water, and went into his canoe od 10 Ponde¢
i of liniment that would be8™ te c
the occasion. buy sMon
Paul was in.a tremor all ar ul Remarc
hoping that the mysterious or nile eel) I-h
speak, and yet at the same ok yur hus
fearing lest he would. He had # he slo All
ward so long to this event tha Jest here eg
dreaded its coming, for fear ils bit A wi},
might be disappointed, havins | Ut of |
castles in the air. 2 win Party of
But Captain Cross said noth mise obey
Evidently the time had nob 5 at Pau jitle ba
for him to speak. He looke de 10 e Marts t,
otten in a queer way, but m# al ware:
mark. +5 90 «ues,
Paul must wait and possess his Who
patience. ; to bis but Nliegg»
Brad was finally assisted ming with uly g
He would awaken in the MOM 14 pe t f Yes,
pretty sore head, but that W® t hims
extent of his trouble.” ij qith@tif 4. And
The boys talked a little W questi? fin Ne
tain Cross, who asked em at was, tice of
about their course in @ brit got im pen
trifle significant. Then t ‘heir form ap rank
their boats, and headed for d OF Nd asl,
anchorage just as the moon «Wh .
view. p.) now ait
(TO BE CONTINUED: se, ;
+ ae Mani
‘de ont
ig Lue ’ But, tr
leutenant Gareys ts
ae 4 nin’ to)
3 saat (HES) tt,
Y 4 t
A Companion Story to “Cate a
2 ERE ‘ vy me
By Lieut. LIONEL LOUNS : tafe ov
Author of “Cadet Carey,” “Midship™ ad Son a
“eee was coment) Ney ha gh
(“LIEUTENANT Carey's. LUCK J ecined O 7 the g
No. 36. Back numbers can be 0 lng =
Agents.) Powel
CHAPTER 3% mi 728
THE RELIEF. ait meee |
‘i 0 om,
THE shot that had pennared 3 ie Met
q > darkness, a couple O° soon sIt a he
BY from the camp, ba pdf qtman
7 Kit Carey himself. ‘de opel 4) t ‘ea Leff,
He had kept his eyes W* oeing * Maled.
last had been rewarded by , aloe ag than
object out upon the plain |g oreP of ait yo
Po ee came nearer, d ped Major
the ground. ai son ane ». 08 0,
He clantea in each direction the Jit it a
other objects creeping tow sci cH Mee
lariats. Josh CO us Canta
The men had evidently ust bem ment to
ness in slumber, and ee =e opjects s thi is .
He knew what those, at, to e or di TY to
Indians were creeping. feat oust? : Rction
lariats, and then with? 48,08 a The ec
would be made hy hundre nd wftajo.
warriors. aimed 9 ed, Oy Nig hen |
He raised his revolvels © follow infty p.Sible ;
‘he death cry of a brave 2 to th 5 titer no
a score of dark forms spre yakeney po be, hat I
to dash away, when ep W} Be Po
nels began to open upo? 4 (0 th to B)
or less effect, to etter” od, Be hg Indi,
Then came the order, “7 been $8 5d Wd fi, id
corral, for the lariats 2% sped ed ‘al Of Foy
a howl of rage, disappe mour’ all! Lot th.
geance went up from Al aways nb to” Duy Lew.
riors, an eighth of a ma gent ° Wes ;
oe signals of the scoU Pe ade thang
the ropes. e
Though they threatened, tee bbe Mo .°
both on horseback and oO ue Yo Then
ence of the night beneateemPe pre toy? Com
better than to make the 3 on the of Yon hun¢
The dawn came, a0 » aibles pad oe tho» a
day, no Indians were Yi". they ning dt Duy hem
The soldiers knew phe 1, corer, OY wath ig
again saved by the ski pad ' waven,
pluck of their young . pint a uyt Wil
sergeant said: 11 gets iF Hq. Shay
“His first command Tm thin a { Iho?S to
on his shoulder strap, from per” a lngy® At o
he can out-Injun Tpjue was Sh bang com
es noon @ horsem r ide oh ‘y my Tes)
dash out of Blue Past rises thee af ;
speed toward a distant ™ositie ts
ing a wide none 0 owe “et Bi,
soldiers. ollON s, Ad,
wee cttete soon after iraskis se ge es
was seen that they Wer pall SY aid ORG
“Tf our horses Were “" nases oof Dla
give those fellows zy) in ri 4 ly Kit
ey. e :
Cathey have news of 8°” 4 i gta -
remarked. n help ° ph) “Om, fror
“Yes, they have 8° nowt) “Wena
the fort.” idiers f ot” / Wn Ql],
A cheer from the 80™- nten® wf : A tmast,
words of the younmlue pases? a yyeisi You
eyes turned towar it Care Op, OD f
All watched exceP® ist 4 Ps:
Powell, and the scou on the ave) Sd oh ay 4,
Their eyes were UP qian © som Md AY hi.
where they knew the pre? hoge ,
lying hidden. dashed the

  
  

Over the rise

   

 
    

 

 

 

GooDp

NEWS.

 

O51

 

 

 

 
 
  
     
  
  
 
   
   
   
 
    
 
 
   
   

gometl f rc and soon after, afar off, the head of |
while ? ace umn of Indian warriors appeared in

ned to st > moving at a trot toward the moun-
new Ws.

a ad ‘It shows that help is near,” said -Sur-

ere $0.80 on Powell,

€s, or it is a trick to make us think

ot ®, and’ that they are retreating. I never |
e for soz ony 22 Indian on the war-path,” re- |
be goot Mrnded Kit.

‘ © column of red horsemen filed in |
# ong the hills out of sight, and Kit |
a Marked in his cool way:
‘hope they are gone, for there are |

 

se Tey |
poked fo ; four hundred of them, at least.”
; he alot thes 1 of that number, Carey; but see,
yr Jest 5 ve comes our relief.”
. puilt b a Wild cheer broke from the soldiers as |
bof the head of the Blue Pass came a |
ng: cg my Of horsemen,
yet antl littig? were boys in blue, and the gallant
dat Pal hea €band watched their approach with
nde 20 © toe throbbing with joy.
ee: arey {”
pis goulf | Yes, aereeon pees :
.Y DO i is coming to our
<i but telieg?” o you think is co g
sing wits nly glass told me. Captain Nevil.”
xia be for he and he will take all the honors
cap ImMself, mark my words.”

with ‘ont tai Hd mark mine, Surgeon Powell, Cap-
quest Offic, Nevil will not much longer be an
that wnt ot of the United States Army,” was |
7 got neh Stern rejoinder of Kit Carey. ;
neil for ‘ qonk Powell looked at him in surprise,
coped « asked :

wey what do you mean?” _
Son, ait and see,” was the significant re-
Om? and mounting his horse, and, ac-
ne anied by the surgeon, the lieutenant
ib Out to meet the coming force.
it t0 the surprise of both officers, the
fin divided, one-third of the number
withe toward the corral, and two-thirds,
- tows the piece of artillery, going on
we the mountains.
hat does that mean, Carey?”

 

pERRY: Tipe wean that Captain Nevil will be
wert” taing Sut if he pushes on into the moun-
Soon peth the force he has. But we will
nent ha vow what his foolish move means.”
Pot all of th Short while the officer in command |
Ing ie Smaller force came up, and wheel-
Power Horses alongside, both Surgeon
ell and Kit Carey joined him.
taiy VAS Captain Wilber Moore, and he
« Pleasantly :
yt in Velo ad to meet you again, Carey, and to
Ord yen We me you into the ranks of. the blue.
nd vod ; Bae a courier from Major Duluth,
DB Mp. Old us you were here with asmall
n apd} oy, 80d, and the major had gone to help
per, aa) ‘rate ngwell, whom the Indians had
DB “Th Glad you beat them off.”
opt 8 a ank you, Captain Moore, but may I |
cn of Mao are going at once to the relief |
pd Oy 2ot Duluth?”
ne Jip?) Seng ty wevil is with his force, and I am}
t af ey .2 Oder you at once to the fort, and |
const? “g, Meet him at Rainbow Pass.”
pe atone Ven t &in Moore, Major Duluth, if he!
‘ots © Wey) :° the aid of Lieutenant Leffing- |
f cul thinty Yonder, down this range, from |
sar # lirect 9 fifty miles away, and not in the |
f worry - Which Captain Nevil is going.”
, , tho tn ©Ourier told Nevil where to find |
and! “my, or, Carey.”
owes Missin he told him wrong, for by no|
ther i Soft... © Means could Major Duluth have |
0 ed 8 hy horth of us.”

ene
eit Bn I also say, Moore,” broke in Sur- |
0 to Brel “for Duluth left. us to|
eat ri he Than Pass, get in the rear of
saeco and lans, who were there to ambush
pt a «al oes. p thus catch them between two
ote ia in of th. Some reason the redskins moved
ys aw’, cl Hriting fir ambush and corraled us; but
out Mug re is far south of here, and so is
as te Welj if he turned back to his aid.”
pH spt ant ide haye heard my orders, Lieu-
the Apet Mo the vey, and I will now push on
pt ‘T,,.. Mountains to join Nevil.”
pte a pyid! fot co yOu push on to your doom, for
f r mt inane drove away from us some
a? of “red Sioux who retreated the way
yy ba Ay the; 4nd Captain Nevil will find more
ne ot Wath is € way. he goes, while Major
pels m wen not there, I’ll vouch for.

ey

 

Qt w+ Shall obey orcers at any rate.
pint 1 teat atl you do, Carey?”
pink ia nie l disobey Captain Nevil’s strange
moc Inve “ig §0 to the fort, and instead shall |

ee 1 iyth, Once ‘to the rescue of Major Du- |
as wig ne Come}i{ not hemmed in, would
de oh by Tes, -"S Since to my aid,” was the |
pour g | *Ponse of Lieutenant Cary.
pio? i past.’
weds tl CHAPTER XXI.
cine cal TSOBEYING ORDEXS.

std) WOR
« sil y EON POWELL smiled com-
4th Rit tly at the determination of

ints gt |) 8 arey to act upon his own re-
98" fyke Resibility, while Captain Moore
0 re wil fro prised, for here was a flat re-

Aig «la a junior officer to obey the
No gph | braVell 1 his superior. ,
ti

 

ants pol Thag, euitenant Carey, you are your
, oo ; dutty meer, and understand the responsi-
ey” Mosion 4%2ke; but I must report. your
sists cae © Captain Nevil,” said Captain
j a
cot off ghey 120 So, sir, and tell him I refuse
ree Those S orders, as I see my duty to is
pbs Who require our assistance. I

 

shall move at once, sir, and permit me to
say that when I have gone to the relief of
Major Duluth, if he will permit me, I
will come to your rescue.”

“My rescue, Carey?”

“Yes, sir, for if 1 make no mistake you
will need my aid,” was the smiling re-
sponse.

“T think we have force enough to beat
back the redskins.”

“T’ sincerely hope so, but you will need
all you have, and if you will accept ad-
vice from your inferior in rank, permit
me to suggest that you join Captain
Nevil as soon as possible, for Surgeon
Powell will bear me out in saying that
the Sioux are out in very large force, and
desperately in earnest.”

“Tt is true, Moore, and Nevil’s force is
not so large as he will wish, when he
comes to a fight with them. . Return to
him with all dispatch, as Carey advises,
for no man knows the Indians better than
he does,”

“Tam no fool, Powell, and have both
confidence in you and Mr. Carey, so will
be cautious and try and\ urge Nevil to re-
treat, as you seem assured he is on the
wrong trail to aid Duluth; but I must be
off,” and the captain rode on with his
men, feeling in a very uneasy state of
mind. Hesaw that Surgeon Powell had
perfect confidence in Kit Carey, and cer-
tainly that young officer had handled his
command well.

Nevil was brave beyond all doubt, and
yet so self-willed he was hard to convince
that he was wrong.

Captain Moore rode on until he sud-
denly came upon the large trail of the
retreating Sioux, who had departed when
their scouts hud reported the relief in
sight.

He paused and held a consultation with
his officers, then called to his scouts, and
had their opinion of the trail. What
they said convinced him that he might
ride into an ambush at any moment, and
against vastly superior numbers.

The nature of the country was against
him, ancl in favor of the Sioux, and his
command could be literally wiped out
if ambushed.

So he made up his mind to go on the
back trail, follow after Captain Nevil,
and overtake him.

He would place the situation squarely
before him, and leave it for him to say if
he had not acted as he should have done
under existing circumstances.

When he again came out in the open
country the command of Kit Carey was
nowhere in sight.

He had lost no time in getting his men
ready for the march, to go to the rescue
of Major Duluth.

His wounded men were mounted upon
horses, with a man behind each to hold
them on, and thus the force was pushed
forward with all the speed that could be
gotten out of the half-starved animals.

Kit knew that by striking the trail of
the wounded party it would lead to where
they had been corraled, and there must
the major and his men be also.

He, therefore, pushed on with all speed,

|/and though his force was small he felt

assured that it would be of great aid, as
he had the two cannons which would ter-

| rorize the Sioux.

It was not until after nightfall that he
came to a halt, to give his horses a much
needed rest, though a short one, and let
them crop what zrass they could.

After an hour’s halt they pressed on,
following the trail which they knew the
wounded party must have taken.

Suddenly Kit called a halt, and listened.

Far off was heard the sound of firearms,
not in volleys, but like a scattering fire.

At once he gave the order to move on,
and he rode away in advance at a gallop.

The men pressed on, Surgeon Powell
in the lead, and the distant firing grew
louder and louder.

After a couple of miles, Surgeon Powell
saw a horseman approaching.

It was Lieutenant Carey, and he said:

“They have them hemmed in on the
river, and their scouts are keeping them
firing from fear ot an attack. We can
reach a hill commanding the Sioux posi-
tion, and open with the guns, then all
move down to the attack, and my word
for it a stampede will follow.”

“But is the major there, do you think?”
eagerly asked Lieutenant Benedict.

* Fe. 16.”

“But how is it possible to know, sir?”
urged the lieutenant of artillery.

“From the simple reason that there are
five hundred Indians beseiging the corral,
end with only his own force Lieutenant
Leftingwell would have been massacred
long ago,” was the answer,

Then he led the way toa rise command-
ing the Indian position.

Why the redskins had placed no sentinel
there could not be understood, unless it
was because they expected no foe from
the direction of their own country, for on
the other side there were guards and
scouts far beyond.

There was the dark mass, which all
knew tobe the ponies of the redskins,
and over in the bend of the river could be

 

(seen the flashes of the soldiers’ guns, as

they fired at random in the darkness,
when arrows fell in their midst.

That the Sioux must be massed between
the corral and their ponies, Kit Carey felt
assured, and he said:

“Aim your guns yonder, Mr. Benedict.”

“At random, sir?”

“No, at the Indians.”

“Pardon me, but I do not see them.”

“Tf you do not obey I shall test the eye-
sight of your sergeant, sir, and his ability
to take your place,”

“Oh, I can obey; only I wished to see
my enemy. As you know, Lieutenant
Carey, ammunition is scarce.”

“TI know that, sir; but fire as I order

”

you,

” Byrd Benedict obeyed, and the shriek-
ing chains and other missiles went flying
down into the very midst of the redskins,
for Kit Carey had not been wrong in his
surmise as to where they were.

Such consternation as fell upon the
Sioux was ludicrous, for they scattered
like sheep, and the guns and the carbines,
too, were then turned upon the Indian
ponies, causing an instant stampede,
while, with loud cheers, the young officer
moved his men down the slope toward
the terror-stricken Indians.

Cheers from the corral, and the notes of
a bugle sounding a charge, was heard and
answered by the bugler with the rescuers.

Away stampeded the Indian ponies, and
after them sped the Indians, now com-
pletely demoralized, while Major Duluth
and his troopers came dashing down
toward his brave rescuers, cheering as
they came on in a sweeping gallop.

CHAPTER XXII.

RESCUERS RESCUED.

GS RAvO, men, who are you?” called
W—= out Major Duluth, as he dashed up
) with his-troopers to where Kit had
GFF halted.

“Kit Carey, sir, and his troop,” was the
modest reply.

“I might have known it, and yet I
thought you were from the fort.”

“No, sir, Captain Nevil got us cut ofa
scrape this morning, and went on into
the mountains to rescue you, he said, or
rather Captain Moore said, for he it was
we saw.”

“Gone to the mountains to rescue me?”

“Yes, sir, for Captain Moore said that
your courier reported you to be there,
though I told him he was wrong.”

“T should think so, Carey, and if he
does not look out he will need to be res-
cued.”

“T was going to ask, sir, if I could take
the freshest of the men and horses, and
push on tohis aid, for I know he will
need us, sir, and you will hardly need
much force now.” e

“No; and you can go whenever you
wish, Carey. I would go myself, but I am
wounded, slight though it is, and be-
sides I wish you to rescue Nevil from the
position into which his stupidity has got-
ten him. Now we have the three forces
together again, I can spare you sixty men
and the two guns.”

“Was there not some extra ammunition
brought in the ambulance, sir, with Lieu-
tenant Leffingwell, for Lieutenant Bene-
dict has been firing trace-chains, tin
plates, and buttons.”

“T’ll warrant you suggested it, Carey;
but there are a couple of dozen rounds
for each gun, so take it, and start when
you please.”

“And may I go with Lieutenant Carey,
major, as I think I will be needed?” sug-
gested Surgeon Powell.

“In the fight, yes, for I can never get
you down to your duties as surgeon, Pow-
ell, as long as there is fighting to be
done,” laughed the major.

The party then moved on toward the
corral, while scouts were sent out to see
just what the redskins were about, though
there was little doubt but that they were
following their stampeded ponies toward
the mountains,

The rescuers were greeted with cheers
of. welcome as they reached the corral,
and the best horses and men of the com-
mand were selected for the expedition to
aid Captain Nevil, for all felt assured
that he was already in trouble, or would
A ror long, by taking the course he

ad.

Lieutenant Leffingwell insisted upon
going along as second in command, and
Surgeon Powell and Jack Crawford, the
scout, also were to be of the party, with
Lieutenant Benedict and his two guns.

Two hours before dawn the party pulled
out of the camp, whiie Major Duluth
with the rest of the command began the
march for the fort, for he did not wish to
be again entrapped by any prowling band
of Sioux that might be on the warpath.

Tt was just growing light when Lieu-
tenant Carey halted for a rest of several
hours, and the men and horses were soon
making the best of it.

By _a trail, then unknown to any one
else, Kit Carey led the command ito the

Centr

{
{

 

 

mountains, remarking to Surgeon Powell,
the other two officers, Benedict and Lef-
fingwell, and Jack Crawford:

“We can cross their trail over in the
Buffalo Valley, if they have gone along,
and thus save many miles, while if they
have not passed we will know it, and‘so
can march down to where the major
turned off at Blue Pass.”

Byrd Benedict made some remark about
“prowling about in the mountains at an
uncertainty, and not following a direct
trail,” but if he overheard it Kit Carey
said nothing, and led the march as he
deemed best.

It was nearly noon when they came
upon a large Indian trail, and soon after
another following it on into the moun-
tains.

“It is Captain Nevil’s trail, for there
are the tracks of his cannon and caisson,”
said Surgeon Powell.

“Yes, and if the Sioux have led him
into Dead Man’s Canon he is doomed,
for it is there Diamond Dan was leading
Colonel Crandall, years ago, when I over-
took him, and told him of his danger—
hark !”

The distant roar of a cannon resounded
among the mountains in many an echo,
and Kit called out quickly:

“They are corraled in Dead Man’s
Canon! Forward, march!”

He led the way himself, directly off the
trail, and yet without hesitation as to his
course.

He led them, too, at a slapping pace,
while the deep roar of the gun was heard
constantly now, and the volleys of car-
bines were incessant.

Then, too, the wild war-cries of the In-
dians were heard.

All was excitement now in the little
command, and no one thought of sparing
the horses, while the guns and caissons
fairly leaped from rock to rock in the
mad chase which Kit Carey was leading
to reScue the rescuers.

“Lieutenant Benedict, be ready to un-
limber and push your guns to yonder hill,
for it commands the Indian force fully. I
will have Lieutenant Leffingwell and ten
men as asupport, while I charge down
yonder canon with the others, for there
the redskins have but one chance of
escape, and your guns command it. When
you fire, I will charge. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” and Byrd Benedict’ saluted
politely, for he felt that he stood in the
presence of a master, whatever his feel-
ings against him might be.

A few minutes more and the guns were
unlimbered, the artillerists seized the
wheels and forced them to the hill top,
while Kit Carey led his men ata gallo
down the vale leading to the canon, an
Frank Powell was by his side.

Boom! Boom! resounded from the hill-
top, and with wild cheers the troopers
rushed into the canon.

And not a moment too soon, for Cap-
tain Nevil stood at bay against a force
that could have destroyed him and his
brave men.

 

CHAPTER XXIIfL
ALONE ON THE BACK TRAIZ,

 
 
  

“HE situation into which Captain
1 Nevil had gotten himself was des-
t ‘) perate in the extreme.

<7 “He had been overtaken by Captain
Moore, who had reported just what Kit
Carey had said and done.

“That boy is determined to play a high-
handed game and get me into trouble. I
believe the courier as to where Duluth
was corraled, and shall push on,” said
Captain Nevil, angrily.

“But could you have understood the
courier correctly, Nevil, as you know he
was barely able to speak from the wound
he had received ?”

“Yes, he said Duluth was at Devil’s
Canon, and certainly it was beyond here
where he fought the renegade chief, ac-
cording to his own report to Colonel
Crandall.”

“That is true.”

“Then why should he be far to!the
south, as Carey told you?”

“I do not know more than what Carey
said, and when J ssaw the trail of the
Sioux who had had him ecorraled and re-
treated upon seeing us, I did what I
deemed right, and returned to your trail
and overtook you.”

“You were right; but my idea is that
Carey was in advance of the major, and
we will find him where the dying courier
bade me look for him.” :

“T hope so,” was the reply, yet Captain
Moore felt ill at ease. ee

On the command pushed until night,
then camped, and again went on the
next: morning until Dead Man’s Canon
was reached.

Here a halt was made, and scouts were
sent out to quickly return with the in-
formation that Sioux were to be seen in
every direction.

Quickly Captain Nevil rallied his men
for a fight he knew must come, and
sought to retreat to a position where he
could stand some chance,

+

 

    
      
   
    
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
     
    
    
    
     
    
     
  
    
      
 
   
  
   
    
    
     
   
 
   
  
    
 
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
    
   
   
    
   
     
     
  
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
    
      
652

But in vain, for the Sioux barred his
way, and the battle was begun.

Dismounting, the warriors crept up the
canon sides, and yet held the two en-
trances to the canon, so that the troopers
were in a trap.

The one gun opened hotly, but the
Sioux sought shelter, and affairs were
looking very black for the hemmed-in
soldiers, when suddenly from a hill-top
resounded two shots, and shells, fired
down intv the canon, burst in the very
midst of the Sioux.

At the same time a bugle sounded a
charge, and out of the valley swept a
body of horsemen.

Instantly a panic seized the redskins,
for from triumph they fell to despair, and
away they dashed in the only direction
open to them.

Here were their ponies, but the shells
stammpeded them, so that it became a wild
flight for life, the Sioux never dreaming
that amere handfull of men, compared
with their force, were the rescuers.

And after the flying Indians charged
Captain Nevil and his men, keeping up
their mad flight until the victory had
been wholly won.

As soon as he saw that the stampede
was complete, Kit halted his worn-out
men and horses, and said:

“See to the wounded, Surgeon Powell,
for there is much need for your services, I
notice. But my advice is for Captain
Nevil to retreat at once to the fort, and
march with only necessary halts.”

“Tell him so then, Carey, for after what

ou have done for him he certainly will
eed you.”

“No, I shall go and give up my com-
mand to Letfingwell, for I do not care to
meet Captain Nevil—now, at least.”

“But how can you avoid it?”

“Oh, I shall start for the fort at once;
as soon as I have turned over the com-
mand of my force to Leffingwell.”

“You will start for the fort?” asked
Surgeon Powell, in surprise.

. Pos, for my work is finished here.”

“You will not go alone, Carey?”

“Yes, alone. Why not?”

“Better take your command, which is
independent of Nevil’s.”

“No, he may yet need all the men here,
and will, if he does not get out of these
mountains as soon as he can, for if the
Sioux capture their stampeded ponies, and
om forces with other bands, and discover
Jevil’s strength, or rather weakness,
they will quickly rally and come back to
the attack.”

“You are right, and I shall so put it to
Nevil. Yes, and if they do he will need
your men. But I hate to see you go
alone.”

“Oh, I am used toit, you know; but
good-by, and if you are not in the fort on
time, [ shall get the colonel to let me
come out with a fresh force to look you
up. “Now I must be off, for I do not wish
to meet Captain Nevil.”

With this Kit Carey rode away, and
meeting Lieutenant Leffingwell with the
artillery and balance of the troopers com-
ing to the scene, he said:

“Lieutenant Leffingwell, I turn over my
command to you, sir, and if you have any
influence with Captain Nevil, use it to
have him get out of these mountains with
all haste, and make forced marches back
to the fort.”

“And you, sir?”

“I depart at once for the fort. Good-
morning,” and Kit Carey rode away alone,
greatly to the surprise of Le(fingwell and
Byrd Benedict, the latter saying:

“ What the mischief does that mean?”

“T am sure I do not know, for he hasn’t
seen Nevil, as he has not returned from
the pursuit.”

“T cuess I know why he has gone.”

“Why?” :

“He wishes to make his charges against
me,” was the sneering reply of Lieutenant
Benedict, and there was an ugly look in
his eyes as he glanced after Kit Carey,
who was riding down the canon at a gal-
lop, going alone upon the perilous back
trail.

(tT0 BE CONTINUED.)

——_—_+-0--
THE GLASS AND PIN EXPERIMENT.

Fill a common wine glass with water so
that it will be difficult to add more
without overflowing, or, except with a
very steady hand, to raise it to your lips
without spilling. If asked how many
pins could be dropped into this glass
thus filled, without causing the water to
overflow, some, perhaps, would answer
half a dozen or a dozen, others might say
possibly twenty or thirty; many would
affirm the impossibility of putting in a
single pin; no one who had never seen
the experiment tried would believe it pos-
sible that several hundred could be
placed in the glass without the overflow-
ing of a drop of water. Yet such is the
fact, as any one can satisfy himself by
careful experiment. It is only necessary
to drop the pins in, points downward,
gently and cautiously, one at a time, and
you can continue it till the glass is pretty

 

GooDp

eloeely pecees with pins, and they are
piled half an inch or an inch above the
surface. The glass must be perfectly dry,
or the pins cannot be put in as described;
and the larger the diameter on the top,
the more pins can be put in.

en

INTERESTING FACTS.

BY JOHN R. CORYELL.

The Elephant’s Third Cousin.

INCE that cowardly impostor, the
lion, has been dethroned, and the
elephant elevated to regal dignity,
it is no slight matter to be even

third cousin to his majesty. Blue blood
certainly flows in the veins of so near a
relative, and henceforth we must see to
it that the hog receives his due meed of
respect.

But it is not alone his kinship to roy-
alty that entitles the hog to high claims;
he has a still more potent reason in a
long and unbroken line of ancestry reach-
ing far, far back into the dim and misty
regions of prehistoric times. At a period
when the horse still had three toes on
each foot, when the elephant and rhi-
noceros wore woolly coats, when the mas-
todon, the megatherium, and even worse
named monsters made the earth tremble,
under their mighty footfalls, the hog,
just as we know him now, rooted and
grunted in the primeval forests.

We are so much accustomed to think of
the hog wallowing in the black mud ‘of
his filthy pen, that it is difficult to fancy
him anything ditferent. And yet he is
fitted for better things. A stupid, glut-
tonous, nasty fellow, you call him. Well,
aud who would not be a stupid, glutton-
ous, and nasty fellow if shut up in a
small, dirty pen, and stuffed with food.

In some parts of France the hog is bet-
ter understood, and by a very strange re-
moval of circumstances is changed from
the glutton to the hard working instru-
ment of the human gourmand. For some
reason epicures set a high value on
truffles, and truffles they must have at
any price.

Truffles, however, are difficult to find,
hidden, as they are, under ground, and
the peasant might pass a week vainly
digging for the precious edible, were it
not for his well-trained sagacious hog,
which runs along in front of him,
snuffling hither and thither until a spot
is reached where the sought-for truffles
lie hidden, There the hog stops and in-
dicates the spot by a grunt anda vigorous
thrust with his snout. Then the peasant
digs with his spade, unearths the treas-
ure, and once more moves on, led by his
faithful seryant.

Not long ago Sir Henry Thorndike, a
sporting squire of England, made a_ pet
of a pig, and for want of a better place
brought it up among his fox-hounds. In
such good company the latent aristocratic
spirit in piggy 's breast grew with his
growth, and ere long he showed that
what a dog could do he could do. Spurn-
ing the luxurious ease of idleness, which
he might have had for the choosing, he
romped with the dogs, and by continual
activity kept himself thin and muscular.

He was usually shut up when the
hounds were taken out for a hunt, but
one day he contrived to escape and follow
them. He kept so well on the scent, and
held on near the front so vigorously that
he was thereafter permitted to go with
the hounds on all occasions, a wonder to
all who witnessed his performances.

Another hog developed still more as-
tounding powers as a pointer. He would
take the field with his master, a well-
known sportsman, and would “point as
true” as the best bred pointer dog. The
moment his delicate nose—for, strange to
say, a hog has a fine sense of smell—told
of the presence 0; game, he would creep
as near as he dared, and then stand mo-
tionless, with nose pointing straight at
the spot.

Perhaps the most singular development
of the hunter spirit in the hog is shown
in the case of one of these animals now
living in the northern part of New York
State. This hog is very fond of fish, and
as nobody would ever think of catching
fish for him he does it for himself. He
wanders along the banks of the St. Law-
rence River intently watching the water;
suddenly his quick eye catches the glint
of silver scales. Like a flash he cuts the
blue water, is gone a few moments, and
then, inconceivable as it may seem, re-
turns to the surface with his finny prey
in his mouth.

All these are isolated cases, it is true,
but they prove that with opportunity the
degraded hog would_probably show un-
usual intelligence. Who knows! we may
yet have our pointer hog, our setter hog,
our retriever hog, or our watch hog.

In the meantime we may properly ren- | surrendering it to the English. Day after’ jury got it, they gave,
der thanks to the hog for the good service day Carew was put off with soft, flatter- cents damages.
he does us in killing vast numbers of rats ing words from Macarthy, until, at last, ; her bold mariner is ma.

| he would be himself.

|
|

NEW Ss.

no combination of cat and terrier could
surpass him; and as a destroyer of snakes
he has no equal in this country.

When he has a snake to kill he makes
no great fuss over it, but advances to the
attack with as much carelessness as if he
were about to bite an apple. Even the
rattlesnake seems to realize its peril, and
at once endeavors to escape. The hog,
without any regard to the poison-squirt-
ing fangs plunged despairingly into his
cheeks, quietly munches his writhing
prey with evident gusto.

For some time naturalists doubted that
the hog could survive the bite of the rat-
tlesnake, but it was easily proven in the
same way that Benjamin Franklin once
recommended another matter. Some
French students once asked the philoso-
pher if a tub full of water would overflow
\if living fish were putintoit. “Try it
iand see,” was the answer. Repeated
trials proved that the hog could comfort-
ably survive the bite of a snake. No
doubt the peculiar quality of the hog’s fat
prevents the spreading of the poison.

Now, therefore, as legal documents
have it, be it remembered that the hog is
as we have made him, and not as what
It is odd that the
is almost a synonym for
sweetness and cleanness, is naturally
more given to wallowing in the mud
than the hog. In a wild state the hog is
usually scrupulously clean, while most
mnembers of the ox tribe take special de-
light in the mud-bath.

The wild members of the hog branch of
the noble family of pachydermator, or
thick-skins, are among the most heroic

icow, which

 

of all the animal kingdom. In Europe in
olden times, the wild boar was considered |
royal game, and in Asia is still so held.

The reason is, that with very great

strength and swiftness, the boar cot ings
dauntless courage and murderous weap-
ons, which latter he well knows how to
use, In China at this day whole districts
are devastated and kept desolate by the
herds of wild boars which the feeble in-
habitants head
against.

In this country and in South America
we have a terrible little fellow belonging
to the family. He is called the peecary.
No animal, not even the mighty jaguar,
dares attempt to do battle with him. His
teeth are double-edged and as sharp as
razors, and as he always travels in bands
of fifty or more, doing battle with him is
not unlike falling into a bed of busy
buzz-saw. With this ability to fight he
adds an insane desire to do so, and conse-
quently there is no more dangerous deni-
zen of the wood than the tiny peccary.
However, he puts mankind under obliga-
tion by his bitter and incessant warfare
against snakes, which but for this terri-
ble foe would swarm in the warm, moist
country south of the Caribbean Sea,

In Malacca is the babyroussa, as large
as a donkey, and armed with four sharp
tusks. It is the terror of the country be-
cause of its strength and ferocity, and its
cousin, the rhinoceros, is less feared than
it is. It swims and dives like a dog, or
better than a dog, and seems to really
enjoy disporting itself in the water, for
it there enters into games with its fel-
lows, playing apparently a sort of tag or
follow-my-leader. On land it is usually
sullen and irritable, and wants but little
provocation to rush out and rend the in-
truder into shreds.

The bosch-vark of Africa is held by the
kaffirs in about the same esteem as the
grizzly bear is held by our Indians, or,
rather, was held in the days of bows and
arrows, when to kill a grizzly was a feat
requiring unusual skill arid courage. The
kaffirs make necklaces of the bosch:
vark’s tusks, and it is a proud man who
can wear such an ornament about his
ebony neck, for this hog is, like all his
kind, well armed, or toothed would be
more appropriate, perhaps, and seems ut-
terly reckless of death. Another member
from Africa is the wart-hog of Abyssinia,
about the ugliest Jooking and most
wicked tempered of all the porcine fam-
ily. but, fortunately, the least formidable.

There are other relatives, but enough
have been introduced here to prove that
the elephants third cousin is worthy
of more respect than has heretofore been
shown him.

—_____+- eo -____

THE BLARNEY STONE.

are unable to make

 

Blarney is the name of a village in Cork
County, Ireland, in which is situated the}
Castle of Blarney. At the northern angle
of this castle, about twenty feet from the |
top, is a triangular stone, known as the
“Blarney stone,” the kissing of which is |
said to confer an eloquent power in the
language of love, appropriately called |
blarney. The true origin of the phrase is ,
probably this: Cormack Macarthy held |
the castle for some time against Carew,
the Lord President in 1602, but concluded |
a treaty with the latter, on condition of.

 

a

countrymen and the dupe of the lord of
Blarney Castle. The expression ot
passed into a synonym for flabtely
smooth, deceitful talk.

———_+-0-e—__—_
HEN the case of Butts we
Hubner was called in the @

A Breach of Promise Cast.
BY MAX ADELER.
&
WW th 1 for the prosecutltt
‘avin E
Kiabe.naas exnietnaal the fact®

to the jury in the following term: 7) jy
“This, gentlemen, is a suit brought y
Miss Hannah Butts against. De .
Hubner, for breach of promise, Ofthg
riage. We will show you that Hu ouch |
a retired sea-captain, having §
of his life upon whaling voy#
that some months ago he begat aide
attentions to Hannah Butts, 4 mm jife.
lady somewhat beyond the prime na they
Subsequently she accepted him, 4”
were engaged. d to gee
“Hubner used to come aroun” pabil
her every evening, and it became ofa be:
with him to go fast asleep on the put 1
fore the evening was half over o fyst
will refer to this directly. From oi were
some of his methods of conversal! ponnel
offensive. If she purchased @ NET rapels
he would refer to it as @ By ve , he
Upon one occasion, when she bagi
told her that she’d be scuttled SO nut,
if she didn’t keep her hatcbway oque
He expressed his disapproval of at jike
she wore, by saying that he di apd one
the cut of her mizzen riggin&*" a, he
day, when she dropped ser slipP along
picked it up, and running his Tot that
the sole, remarked that @ ea
size ought to keep any craft ste@ice phe
“These things pained the plal?
thought him lacking in true a8
when, at one time, while she "es he
ing at nis expense at a restauran 0
her that if she stowed her care rec
as that it might cant her and pe
on the voyage home. Her fea
rrowing coldness were heightene e
y his remarking, one eveniné allad 6
was singing a pathetic little ai jn}
him, that if he ever went to sea or free
would know where to get @ £08
of expense. ell avwares
“That she is slender she 18 a obser, |
but that cannot excuse the oa pat 7
tion made by the defendan’s plubbe
wouldn’t pay to cat her up er feclinte
and I leave you to imagine rouse nes
when, having come into the teeth
pectedly, when she had her if ber
her mouth, he suggested tha g thab
was as loosely put together "fot rep! ot
had better go into dry- ook a cond
I will not refer to his heartl©™ ope me
upon another occasion, wie find ther.
mislaid her teeth and could n° rooke!
and he advised.her to send UP atl
a signal of distress. simile
“T pass over these, and js cus or"
scandalous things, As I ing ly
was to spend much of each & 4 atiehine
ing upon the sofa, while she sewed yi
by, strong in her love, 440 Cy uP ad:
she waited for him_ to f bis pas
seemed to dream regularly © + ewe
ventures, for when he was ye j phe
at his sailors and using nau e nat
ology of an apparently pro a ip
would imagine himself at 5°
pursuing whales. 7
“Miss Butts bore with his ©°
naturedly. She did not oon the
he tried to row the sofa wit ie grash
she remained calm whe the 8°
chair and dragged it upor it was
the évident impression tha whe
overboard; she endured De p the
rolled two spools of cotton "and sh
that he was paying out lin@>, ted Wg #
trolled herself when he a Me
while he was asleep, to Mr and ale
visitor who had dropped 14 on of %
that he could take half 4 co
bone out of her. yried his piss
“But, gentlemen, he C4” while, spies
duct too far. One nigh yy the
Butts was sitting quietly per 2
she had occasion to blow r
haps she used more Vi8®
perhaps not. At any rates
Hubner, arose dreaming»
‘There-re-re she blows ! it j
closed umbrella, hurled 1s
ion, toward her. It struc 1e
her shell-comb, dishevet
caused her to drop her bet
knocked her upon the co
“He awoke, and where '
indignation he laughe@- aid,
more angry, and then he him, &
evidently, didn’t love | 4 he d
break the engagement, tpousand §
now sues him for t tonement sitet. r
damages as a partial raed gensiDy on
wrong done to her wounc® Ww

nd “eg Hig!
Then the case went OM, = putts wo |
Miss en gfles gf \
ill sis

 

other

pres
aD

She is st

rrie

and venomous snakes, As arat-catcher, he became the laughing-stock of his ing widow.

 

 

 
   
   
  
   
    
    
 
   

 

 

 

 

GOOD NEWS. :

S653

 

 

 

 

  

 

   
      
     

 

 

[take the car with you when you go, my
little man,” he said, consolingly.

“Will the engine alwus have to carry
me around now?”

“It looks like it!”

He sat very quiet, lost in thought, till
the train rolled into the Pittsburg depot,
and the brakeman sang out:

“Twenty minutes for dinner.”

He then said:

“Mamma, I’ve been wondering if this
car’ll go through the dining-room door,
so’s I can eat my dinner,”

“That isn’t what’s troubling me,
Jimmy,” she answered him. “We get off
here, you know—Aunt Lucindy is coming
for us. J’m wond’ring if the brakeman
can’t lift you, if I give him fifty cents.
What do you s’pose is the matter with
you, Jimmy, anyhow?”

“T guess it’s that pound of gum-drops I
et yesterday,” said Sane: thoughtfully.

Nearly all the passengers having left
the car by that time, I started, also, to
get my grub; as I went out I heard a cry
;of triumph, and looking back, saw
| Jimmy, in a suit of under-flannels, turn-
ing summersaults down the aisle, while
|his mother was searching her gripsack
for another pair of little Knickerbockers ;
he had wriggled out of those he had on—
she must have been mad when she found
that by taking out four big pins she could
have released her darling; but I did not
return to that car, because I preferred
the smoker for a while, and I was afraid
the conductor would be curious about the
plaster, and want some one to pay dam-
ages,

While I was in the smoker I looked
over the morning paper; among other
| mT nn
AE

|
|

 

 

    

    

2

LA

3

 

We both retired about eleven, and I heard
my friend snoring like a saw-mill at the
very hour at which the papers state the
voblibry was committed. Excuse me for
mentioning your snoring, old chum; I do
it to save you from a prison-cell.”

“Oh, you are his confederate, are you?”
says the ofticer, sneering at Scrapple.
“We'll tackle you also, young feller! This
ain’t play, this ain’t, I tell you! Why,
the citizens of Columbus have made up
their minds they'll hang the guilty par-
ties to the nearest lamp-post! ’*Twill
beat the Cincinnati riots high and dry! I

don’t know how we’re to sneak you|

safe into jail; if they come across us
they’ll tear you all to pieces, it’s more’n
likely. I never seen people so worked
up, it’s worse’n them horse-thieves out in
Arizona. There’sthousandsof citizens just
surrounding the public buildings, tearing
about like mad, with their hands full of
paving-stones an’ ropes. First place we
stop you’ve got to get off to take a return
train.”

“But I’m not the man you want! I
never stole a button in. my life. Good
Heavens! do I look like a burglar?”

“You ain't quite so good-looking as
Jesse James, nor quite so swell as some
I’ve took up, yet I think I know the breed
—a little dressier than a dude, a little in-
nocenter than a lamb. Oh, yes, you’re
one of ’em, fast enough! You needn’t
riggle, or look at the door, ‘cause if
them Columbus people found I'd let
you slip after I got you, they’d hang me
to a post just as quick as they would

“Just listen to reason,” I said, getting

 

ia HH i - Vi a
SF =
: Ne % :
he: Wes a, 7
‘ vi 4 (( ye

desperate. “Here’s my card, and here’s

TTT
ati
|

eu filly: HHI
THY

 

 

ONE MAN RUSHED FORWARD WITH A Fi.ASK, AND ANOTHER HAD A SMELLING BOTTLE !

items of news, I noticed that a Columbus
bank had been entered and robbed of a
large sum of money the previous night; I
was still engaged in reading the item
when I was clapped on the back by a
quiet, resolute-looking man, who had be-
hind him another of the same stripe.
“This is the fellow,” says he, aloud,
looking me over, and then at a written
paper in his hand. “There can be no
mistake—‘about twenty-five years old;
handsome; stylish suit of English tweed ;
dark-blue eyes; innocent expression; gift
of gab.’ Will swear he’s a drummer;
examine his traveling-bag and you will
find what sort of samples he carries.”
“What are you giving us?” said I,
winking at Scrapple, who sat beside me.
“T arrest you for breaking into and rob-
bing the O. Bank at Columbus,” retorted
the stranger, scowling at me. “Bob, put
on the handcuffs! Now we’ve got the
rascal, we'll try to hold on to him—
there’s a reward of one thousand dollars
offered, an’ I’m the man who means to
earn it.”
“Don’t carry that little game too far,”
says I, feeling a little cold about the
heart. “I’m a commercial traveler for
Fringe & Tassel, and engaged t») travel

 

 
   

—— j ;
Jord of
on ee
pteryy 0
ee
> inne ily Deum
a z é
By the author of “‘A BAD BOY’S DIARY,”
fs wi
Cc y
eeu! | NUMBER SEVENTEEN.
she fact REWARD OF MERIT.
S$: ;
ought y PRIL Ist.—There’s going to bea
a pat Wedding in about six weeks. One
of m of . : ° .
ME Owhole sixty thousand is going to
nt Pind my a girl senhed Kitty. derababal
Bs to PAY tj 8! it takes my breath away to think
Made” \liyy Lve had an offer from Gold &
me ites \xt Which takes the wind out of the
and they beige Fringe & Tassel. Reward of
dud I’ve worked hard this last year,
se? ty.  Y© ot a good way up the ladder at
d abit hy’ It’s a Bood Seay setnedin above sell-
° * ff be; |hj,)2PPles at Clack’s Corners. Any
ae put J et, industrious American boy can do
pbe Bist A 2 made him
: € lds i im taste i
op pet ms and Sienaant site ati One: meni
crap [Wa ,2! Of the world when he’s on the
ee be Nin 2e time. Curious people to be met
vy a0e day | lake ipakes all sorts to make a world.
ay shut, Yi of § together, there’s more of the
a acd filthan uman kindness in folks in gen-
ant oe ibook “a would ae who Bs Sia in
| “Canvassing business. Yesterday
per beta itd an attack of heart trouble on
e al0PP Mo, >? She nearly went off the hooks—
Dot thal | hay i. lady at that; you ought to have
ay: ghe | Ngortnxious o re cy full of
wit! 28 were to help her, They came
treo tring fling her with kindness. I was
r , ;
stat Pais bck anc tia tonsa
Set MO and Sed ayo nt
nee bie ay tia flask of brand saaoi them? A
"4 guste uted One, so he nihad forward and
when sy Wy syerout a gill of the raw liquid
pallad x tity Bp oor lady’s throat, so that she
a gled to death; while another
ages " bil fellow Boro’ ct a ae
ety 8d forced th i ‘los 2
i he thing so close to her
a] aware ty me that the hartshorn choked her
| obs, ‘tent zner nose bleed ; at the same
tha Fa red Other kind-hearted creature
’ p]ubbe eq. Cupful of ice-water which he
; feelin tm ang? in her face, and which ran
se wt igeder. Fulned the front of her waist;
ot b otal by 8% oo on way was sure ’ was
shat #2 Monty were black-and-biue, and forced
thats ©, 8 ack-and-blue, and force
yt rep ot ie pogeuth a ball of en yarn she had
0 Wthe » “so the poor thing wouldn’t
ff ee iy rongue off.” Altogether, every-
And t lS in most attentive, doing every-
“pocket mR laa eir power to make the poor
imilatl bt eee table. Rai fea ay
si te.» yelling “Fire!” at the top o
is cs wind pay ile another one got up on a
ping, ntl ec ed the bell rope so violently
pal pil ee Doasinpetor stopped the train as
geGs pe » Deo e. ;
piste tstslons,"ana’ their quiet. way. of
a ereote PMoue Work fo do just the right thi
8 prase | iin’ any f 10 Jus bt 1e right thing,
al Pe pe No ke to h uss, is very commendable.
atu rab ist T ave a few children in the car
Ne g DOP tMle e 8m 6 ;
ip ty fellow nthe road. There was a nice
490° ihe on] traveled with us this morn-
duc’ cet Mee teroe. made forty-nine journeys to
aid Kel Ry apni Soler, ate seven bananas, six
pe Ped a hg’ bag Y & pint of hickory-nut meats,
gras’ det ye -«;) Singer cookies. His mother
cof © nat bgtin he Was delicate an’ never ate
was he une Ned 6 orth mentioning.” He always
hel per? by along, the arms of the seats as he
n th 6 cot” yy $8 he ua I fixed a pin in mine: but
14 Hid Pino Ming tt Not like it, for he did not
ed Jott 4 iy ci After > more, only made a face
cy jaree Wa eat + & time I coaxed him into
d der pale” Nest Wry ook at some pictures in a
of i if to ai” he was looking, I con-
tg 00 ‘ie fat of noe .@ large porous plaster to
| DIS sis? ut, 18 little trousers, the sticky
pile ples dytothe © sat down by his mother to
the pet yl the °PPle; by the time it was de-
08 st & "Nd ta Plaster ‘had warmed to its
1D nd Ps th He diay" & good grip of the plush
dettiek? 1, at he Sox t know what was the mat
spine vd bint it “ii not go for another drink
ee ford 5 angtbout fife study to aoe wrig-
Pe at ee t cen minutes he began to
, frac poly she 0 tel} his mother: 8
ail er he" ‘ i Bat, what'll you do
if aot eat | CL sburg?—I've growed
sed he iN Wi sve Ong an’ get me a drink
prer de if (hg l hay owed to my seat. Say,
sas id lo} Mang gt live in’ this car till
tba WOH J tog N this 02 Will Ihave to go ‘to
o. ae Nh Choo} var? or will the car have to
e didi Mignon vith me?”
and {Ota Wit’ ang .V8S regarding him with
ont titi alg, lity hinnxiety ; she got up and
ns! nen ‘t han li ban ty she might as well have
| wt ta of G elephant.
pu Weigh yoonen !" said she, “what’s.
sig ; Wane’ my little son?”
0 a t of ha Over and suggested that
° en In ty-nine drinks of water |
Asaq ches in two hours might
Nothi, 2° boy’s weight. Scrap- |

 
 
 

 

ye, 2 about the porous plas-
D dowc2me_ and tried to lift the
Nelined No go!

to think you'll have to

|

for Gold & Jewel. Here are my refer-
ences, sir. Please, don’t try to touch me,
or T shall defend myself.”

The other man grabbed my hand before
I could draw my revolver—took my
weapon away from me. and, despite my
furious resistance, handcuffed me.

“Scrapple knows whol am! Scrapple,
who am I?” 5

“Just who you say you are. I can swear

you did not commit the robbery, for you |

 

my gripsack. Examine it; you’ll find
you’ve collared the wrong gentleman, and
I'll let you know, if you carry this mat-
ter any farther you’ll pay heavy damages
for illegal arrest! I call on these passen-
gers to witness that you’ve got the wrong
pig by the ear, and that you'll be sorry
for it! Just open my gripsack, will you?”

“We're two poor unoffending drum-
mers.” put in Scrapple, “one from Phila-
delphia, the City of Brotherly Love, the
other from the world’s great emporium.
We eee but we don’t propose to be
deprived of our rights as citizens! Great
Cesar! this is worse than Nibilism! One
had better be the Czar than a modest,
honest American drummer! One had——”

Here my friend and defender came to

' stop the train in the next piece of woods
an‘ see to it ourselves?”

“The quicker such chaps are sent where
they belong, the better for honest men,”
said another.

I dare say I turned pale—I felt so. I
thought of Kitty—of the wedding-cake
already baked, the cards engraved, of
how the poor girl would feel when she
heard that her sweetest precious’ had
been murdered by an unreasoning mob!
I gave her address to Scrapple, asking
| him, if the worst happened to me, to
take her the news personally, so as to
break the news as carefully as possible.
He promised, sadly. My gracious! he
looked so handsome, I couldn’t help,
even in the moment of agony, wondering
if oe would not console herself for my
loss

Half a dozen burly fellows went foward
through the baggage-car to compel the
engineer to stop the train; the rest left
their seats, pressing about me, glaring at
me as if I were a side-show.

“Stand back !” shouted the officer. “Do
you want to make me lose my one thou-
sand dollars reward? If you hang him,
where’ll I be?”

“I'm an innocent man,” I feebly expos-
tulated. “The real burglar has taken my
bag and put his in its place, I—I——”

“Shet up!” yelled a broad-shouldered
Westerner. “None o’ your gab. I’ve
helped hang a dozen such fellers as you.
Boys, don’t be too harsh with him. Out
West we generally gives ’em a leetle time
to confess and say a short prayer—about
five minutes is the way I seen it done
mostly.”

The passengers looked at him
great respect.

“You’d better make a confession, Mr.
Burglar,” said a young man, whom I
recognized as a reporter for a Cincinnati
paper. “It’ll write up well, an’ be
money in my pocket. Make it as inter-
esting as you can, for my sake.”

I suddenly . thought of Scheherezada
spinning yarns to the sultan to keep her
aad on her shoulders, and I said to my-
self:

“Time is money.”

My tongue stuck in my throat, but I be-
gan, in a low, trembling voice, to tell! all
the wicked things I had ever thought or
done, and some [ hadn’t, just as fast as I
could talk.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

DARING DEEDS OF BOYS,

BY NATHAN D. URNER.

——~.

NUMBER SEVEN.

Paul Pentock, the Boy Poacher.

with

 

 

 

 

SN looking over an antique and dilapi-
a: dated volume, which a friend of mine,
aA. who deals largely in second-hand
=> books and other relics of a literature
long passed, gave me the other day, I
chanced upon the quaintly-worded_ nar-
ration of an incident connected with the
New Forest, that struck me as peculiarly
appropriate to be placed in my record of
Daring Deeds of Boys. The utmost brev-
ity and simple conciseness of the monkish
chronicler alone mark the original record,
but the beauty of the story is not the less
distinct, and I shall endeavor to give it
in an attractive form.

In the eleventh century, when, during
the absence of Richard Coeur de Leon in the
wars of the second Crusade, England was
greatly disturbed by the usurpation of
Prince John, a forlorn couple appeared at
the monastery of Saint Cyril, which was
situated on a rising ground at the edge of
the New Forest.

They were Ulfrida, an old forester’s
wife, and her nephew, generally known
as Paul Pentock, and they had come to the
monastery on an errand no less singular
than mournful. In other words, they had
come to state to the good Abbot that old
Darko, the husband. of the woman, and
uncle and protector of the lad, had died
on the previous day, and to request the

 

a full pause, for the officer had opened
the bag and taken out, and held up to
view, not my samples of dress-trimmings
and silk, but, horror of horrors! three
jimmies, two files, a small tin canister
marked “Dynamite,” a large bunch of
false keys, and two revolvers.

It was evident to me that the real
criminal was on the car, and fearing ar-
rest had deftly exchanged traveling-bags
so as to fix the guilton me! A cold
sweat broke from every pore in my body.

“Callthem dress-trimmings!” asked my
arrester, holding up the tools, and wink-
ing at the passengers.

The crowd cheered him, and began to
make vile remarks about me. The ex-
citement grew, as it always does when it
once begins. Men are no better than

privilege of bringing the remains tc the
cemetery of the monastery for Christian
interment, free of charge, inasmuch as
they were distressingly poor, and at the
same time had a holy horror of hurying
the body in the lonely and unconsecrated
forest.

The good Abhot knew something of
their history, and readily granted their
request. The body was accordingly
brought, and buried in the grounds of
Saint Cyrilon the following day with re-
ligious rites.

When the sad old woman was ahout to
return with her nephew into the deep
forest, the Abbot saw them in the garden,
and had some little conversation with
them, for, however poor and lowly. they
were esteemed honest and worthy folks.

 

tigers—give ’em a taste of blood and they
lose all self-restraint. I actually heard |
growls in that smoking-car.

“Why leave the job to those Columbus

“And how wilt thou manage to obtain
hread, now that thy good man is no more,
Dame Ulfrida?” he asked.

“Little Paul, here, will be my only syp-

and I shared the same room last night. | fellows?” some one asked. “Why not port now,” said the forlorn woman, shed-

  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
    
 
   
 
   
  
    
   
   
  
   
   
 
    
   
  
   
  
   
   
     
   
   
  
 
   
  
   
   
 
   
   
  
    
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
   
 
   
  
     
        
      
      
      
       
 
        
     
  
   

    
     
  
  
 
   

     
    
       
       
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
   
   
   
 
 
  
  
   
    
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
  
  
 

 

 
 
     
       
     
     
   
       
    
    
       
   
       
       
       
     
     
    
      
 
 
    
    
   
    
 
 
   
 

 
 

 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 

 
 
 
  

    
 
        
    
   
         
     
     
   
  
 
  
 
  

 
 

  
  
  
    
     
   
 
   

, 654

ding tears; “as, indeed, he hath been for
a long time; for thou knowest, holy
father, that Darko’s being crippled hin-
dered him from being of much use for
nearly a twelvemonth before the Lord
took him from us.”

“His sister, little Bertha, can also be
of some use to you, [ trust,” said the
Abbot, commiseratingly.

“Very little, holy father. She is four-
teen now, and so pretty that I fear to
trust her asa domestic in the houses of
the gentry. Paul picks up what he can
by gardening and hostlering at the castle-
stables, but it is little enough.”

“And now that Darko is dead,” said the
Abbot, “will not Gorme, the gamekeeper,
cease his oppression, and give Little Paul
some employment at the castle?”

“Nay, good father,” replied Ulfrida,
shaking her head mournfully ; “not satis-
fied with having ruined and impoverished
his former rival, my good man Darko, he
seems to take quite as much pleasure in
persecuting the poor ones that remain.
Only yesterday he refused to let Paul
have any more work at the stables, be-
cause I persisted in not letting Bertha
take service at the castle.”

“Would it not be better for thee to
yield a bit in this respect, good dame.”

“What, and submit the poor child to
the wicked designs of Hamadrada, the
gamekeeper’s son?” said the dame. “Ah,
holy father, thou canst know little of
those evil people! They say that the Lord
High Forester will shortly visit the castle
from London. I only hope that he may
learn of the many wrongs which his false
keeper, Gorme, hath heaped upon us. He
ig said to be a just and upright gentle-
man, and he always liked Darko, till the
gamekeeper’s calumnies threw him into
disfavor.”

“Perhaps thou art right, my daughter,”
said the good Abbot, “Thou hast my
blessing.”

The old dame bowed her head thank-
fully, and then proceeded into the forest,
accompanied by the lad.

“Don’t be down-hearted, auntie,” whis-
pered the little fellow. “As soon as night
falls, I will take my bow, and shoot a fat
doe that will give usrare feasting for
many days.”

“Ah, but if the keepers should ever
catch thee at poaching, what would be-
come of us?” sighed Dame Ulfrida.

“Ha, ha, dame!” laughed Little Paul.
“Let them whistle in the dark for the
skylark’s song, or chase a moon-beam
through the oak-leaves, like a silver fox,
but I know lonelier haunts of the great
forest than any of the keepers.

They now approached Dame Ulfrida’s
cottage. It was built upon the green
bank of a merry brook that traversed an
oaken glade, and pretty little Bertha was
spinning flax and singing blithely in the
sunshine before the door.

She looked up joyously at her brother’s
shout; but before they could reach the
cottage-door, an insolent young fellow in
a green hunting-suit, with a bugle at his
waist, arrows stuck in his belt, and a
long bow in his grasp, made his appear-
ance from the forest on the opposite side
of the brook, and, clearing it at a bound,
confronted the group.

“How now, Dame Ulfrida?” he cried in
a bold, rasping voice. “What mischief
hast thou been upon with that little
poaching imp, thy nephew, there?”

“T trust, good Hamadrada,” replied
Ulfrida, humbly, while Paul’s cheek

GOoD

uncle before him, from sheer necessity.
Old Darko had at one time held the posi-
tion of gamekeeper at the castle, but
had been supplanted by Gorme, his former
minion, who had succeeded in systemati-
cally poisoning the mind of the Lord
High Forester against him, and driven by
poverty, the good man of Dame Ulfrida
had for several years prior to his death
pursued the very vocation which it had
been his whilom duty to put down and
punish most zealously. Little Paul was
only sixteen, but he knew the loneliest
glades and most secluded trout-haunts
for miles and miles around the cottage,
and was spry and skillful both as bow-
man and angler, and he was even sus-
ected of knowing more than an honest
ad should of the merry men and free-
hunters who haunted the greenwood in
their frocks of Lincoln green, and with
long-bow and_ broadswords, for these
were the days of Robin Hood, Ned Scar-
let, and Little John, but of that, at pres-
ent, we have little to do.

As he had promised his aunt, Paul that
night went into the forest, and returned
with a fat doe upon the back of his little
Shetland pony, which usually acompanied
him upon suc expeditions, and the car-
cass was carefully concealed, after a cer-
tain quantity had been cut off to supply
the immediate necessities of the small
household.

So they went on for a number of
months, the glades and brooks supply-
ing them with a precarious subsistence,
until late into the fall of the year, when,
to their despair, the wicked gamekeeper
—chiefly at the instigation of his son,
who was enamored, after his brutal fash-
ion, of Paul’s pretty little sister—threat-
ened to culminate his persecutions by de-
priving them of even the cottage in
which they lived. This they held in lease
as peasants of the crown, but Gorme was
in hopes of getting the Lord High Fores-
ter to rescind their petty grant.

At the close of a very cheerless day,
which had been rendered doubly unhappy
and desolate by a visit from the hypo-
critical gamekeeper and his boorish son,
the Dame Ulfrida, Bertha, and Paul were
sitting around the little hearth of the
cottage, in a gloomy state of mind.

They had had but little food of late,
since they had been watched so narrowly
by the underkeepers that it was with the
utmost difficulty and peril that Paul was
enabled to make successful expeditions
into the forest; and now the threats of
the gamekeeper to deprive them of the
very roof over their heads, was the last
drop in their cup of sorrow. The dame
and her niece were in tears; but presently
Paul looked up, brightening.

“Well auntie, there is little good in
erying over a broken bow-string!” said
he, with acheerfulness that was quite
commendable under the circumstances.
“TI suppose that you and Bertha will have
to go to Nottingham to live.”

“And pray, what wilt thou do, Paul?”
asked his pretty sister.

“The forest is full of game,” cried the
youth, lightly; “and, if that fails me, I
suppose there is nothing left me but to
join the merry men in green.”

“Oh, Paul! Become a robber!” ex-
claimed the good dame, rolling up her
eyes.

x Not such a mean, hypocritical one as
the gamekeeper Gorme, with his sneak-
ing cub, Hamadrada, I trust,” said Paul,
laughing. “But the night is gloaming,

 

 

flushed, though he said nothing, “that it
will be long before the burying of one’s
dead be counted mischief. We have just
quitted the cemetery of Saint Cyril, where
we left the body of my poor Darko under
the sod.”
“Humph! I pity the worms and door-
mice, if he prove as peevish and querulous
under ground as he was above it,” growled
the young fellow, heartlessly. “When
art thou going to let pretty Bertha, here,
come up to the castle, dame?”
“My sister will never set foot in the
castle as long as thou art there, Hama-
drada,” cried Paul, disregarding his
aunt’s effort to silence him.
“Why, thou impudent churl, thou deer-
stealer in the moonlight, what dost thou
mean by this insolence to the gamekeep-
er’s son? For an inch of buck-horn, I
would break my bow over thy head!” ex-
claimed Hamadrada, enraged.
“Try it on, thou white-livered stable-
cub,” cried Paul, stepping a pace or two
back, while the other lowered his up-
raised how, as he saw the lad grasp the
hanger at his belt, and marked the flash-
ing of his eyes.
*“Be careful, for I shall yet have an op-
portunity to twist thy neck, since thou
art more.than suspected by my father,”
growled Hamadrada.
But Paul only tossed his head scorn-
fully, and followed his aunt into the cot-
tage. The gamekeeper’s son then tried
to make himself agreeable to Bertha, but
she would have none of his society, and
he presently went away in a very bad
humor and muttering all sorts of ven-

and I shall bring ye a meal from the
forest, if an underkeeper stood behind
every tree between this and the Cheviot
Hills. I will try to get something light
enough for my own shoulders, though,
as I dare not take Lightfoot with me.”

Shrugging his shoulders carelessly at
their repeated injunctions to caution,
Paul Pentock seized his yew-bow, and
kissing both his aunt and sister merrily,
he set out into the deep, dark forest.

He was not aware whether any one was
watching him or not, but he soon con-
vinced himself that he was not followed,
and then proceeded boldly upon his
course.

He knew the ways of the vast forest al-
most as well by dark as by daylight, but
presently the full moon came glimmering
over the tree-tops, to bless him with her
smile. Groups of large deer, aroused
from their slumbers, burst from the thick-
ets, and shot like arrows across his path;
put they were all too large for his pur-
pose, beside being too near his home, and
he kept on.

He had wandered several miles, when
he was alarmed by the angry voices and
clashing swords of men in conflict in a
neighboring dell. The little poacher
crept up cautiously through the green
wood, and saw a very large man defend-
ing himself against nearly a dozen of the
royal archers from the castle, who were
attacking him with their broadswords on
all sides, while it was evident that the
stranger wore armor under his rude garb,
since several well-aimed arrows bounded
from his stalwart chest, as though they
had been discharged against a stone wall.

 

goance,
Little Pos! was a noacgher, like his

NEW SB.

muscular power, as well as of great cour-
age and skill, Three of his assailants
were already stretched at his feet, and he
managed to keep the remainder busy,
though it was evident no mortal strength
oe long endure against such mighty
odds.

“Ah!” sighed the young poacher, as he
remembered the hungry ones at home,
and saw that he had but few arrows to
spare, “I must give up my first intention,
and bag some big game this time, for it |
will never do to see the gallant man per-
ish; and there is little love lost between
those racers and myself.”

So, without quitting his covert, he laid
an arrow to string, drew it to the head,
and let it fly with such accuracy that one
of the tallest archers plunged to the
ground, with the keen barb sticking in
his throat.

“The learned nuns at the Priory teach
my sister that one and one make two,”
said the little poacher to himself; and,
letting fly another arrow, another archer
bit the dust, while, as though greatly en-
couraged by these unmistakable evidences
that he had a valuable friend close at
hand, the stranger, seizing an opening,
gave a terrible shout, and stretched still
another of his assailants lifeless at his
feet !

“Three bucks are better than two does,”
gaid Paul to himself; and, putting an-
other arrow to string, he again let fly.
This time, however, his arrow struck
the steel cuirass of its intended victim,
and glanced harmlessly away. But the
archers, whose superstitions were aroused
by these death-missives from no one knew
where, and doubtless deeming that all
the outlaws in the New Forest were com-
ing to the stranger’s rescue, now wav-
ered, and then ran away as fast as their
legs could carry them.

“Do not think that thine enemies will
return, brave sir,” said Paul, coming out
into the glade to recover his arrows.
“They think that all the merry men, with
Robin Hood and Little John at their
head, are upon them, and there is not an
archer among them who would not fly at
the first glimmer of. the Lincoln green.”

The stranger, who was leaning upon
his sword, breathing heavily after his
tough fight, and grimly contemplating
the forms of his fallen foes, was of mas-
sive and heroic frame. His crisp, black-
bearded face was almost wholly con-
cealed by his heavy slouched hat, and his
form was roughly clad. But Paul noticed
that a magnificent diamond glittered like
a star upon the little finger of his sword-
hand. He looked with surprise, and ap-
parently with some amusement, at the
diminutive figure and precocious counte-
nance of his friend in need.

“And art thou one of the merry men
thyself, my valiant little fellow?” he
asked, in a voice deeper aud richer than
any our hero had ever heard.

“Nay, sir; though I may be compelled
to join them ere long,” replied Paul.
“But at present lam going to steal one
of the king’s deer, in order to keep my
aunt and little sister from starving.”

He told his little history in a quiet and
ingenuous way, and the stranger appeared
to be greatly interested.

“Why have ye not set your grievances
before the king’s forester?” he asked; “or
is he so corrupt that he will not listen to
both sides of a story?”

“T scarcely know,” replied Paul, with a
sigh. “But the Lord High Forester rarely
visits the castle, and we have little
chance of ever reaching his ear.”

“Can the Dame Ulfrida, of whom thou
speakest, give me shelter for the night?”
asked the tall stranger, after a pause.

“That she can. And it will be capital
to have thee come,” cried the little
poacher, in high glee; “for this disturb-
ance will prevent the cottage from being
watched, and thou wilt help me drag
home my game, wilt thou not q”

“With all my heart,” said the tall
stranger; and they passed into the forest
together.

As they proceeded the stranger put many
questions to his guide respecting affairs
at court, and the general condition of the
country, which, of course, he was totally
unable to answer.

All he knew was, the poor people were
groaning under the taxes which the
wicked Prince John was constantly heap-
ing upon them, and praying for the re-
turn of King Richard from his captivity
in Germany; and the stranger, discover-
ing that he could obtain no other infor-
mation, speedily fell into silence.

Paul soon saw his opportunity, and
slew a fine buck. He was about to re-
quest the other to assist him in drag-
ging it through the forest, when the tall
stranger waved him back, threw the car-
cass, with a single toss, over his shoulder,
and went on with it, as though it were of
no more weight than a dried fox-tail.

Of course, the good dame and Bertha
were greatly surprised at the appearance
of Paul’s tail companion, whom they
made. none the less welcome, however—
and listened with fear and astonishment

 
  
 

“Oh, Paul!” cried the old wom
“some of the archers may have seen t Pe LIC
in the wood, and the gamekeeper may ste
hang thee to-morrow at sunrise.’ Pe
“Have no fear that thy brave nepher §
will meet with harm, good dame, are IC

the stranger, who, though chary abet T HA
revealing his features, possesse¢ Oe a

mistakable magnetism of authority: g, 8 Peay
do not conceal the buck,” he ded TRY no

»

    

ee
they were about to carry the carcass nT "4 tuck
the thickets, according to thelr wefor Aaa
caution, after cutting off sufficie? Pees dan,
their meal. t the Pay, Rot
He again picked up the body Oro Rat
buck and suspended it from a raftely |. at)

that it occupied the most conspicu?
position in the apartment. ge
“Let it remain just there, good an)
he said, disregarding their remonstra ding
and they submitted, for, notwithstay ing > Vn
his coarse costume, there was eons feal» > line
about him that inspired respect #2 ard
The next morning there was ae the
great clamor about the cottage, an adh By
rough voices of Gorme and Hee ey
his son, could be heard crying OUY* hi iress

“Way, there, for the Lor High Fores” Silly:
ter! Way, there!” errif 7

The little family within were t ange!
almost out of their wits; but thes™ sed S
who said that he would remain COP) cin” Bema’
for the present in the little cham ot to
the rear of the cottage, told oe e hav’
be afraid, but to boldly acknowleas
ing killed the buck. ht thou

If thev ask thee by what rg qaress %
slayest the king’s deer,” said he, er th
ing himself to Little Paul, “answ)
‘by the right of the royal guar
go re the front room, for I hea

reaking in the door.”

Paul, hardly knowing what, #0 fs
of the tall stranger’s words, " xen DIS hy
was bidden; and he had hardl ood bis

lace alongside Dame Ulfri@®
ittle sister, before the brutal G?
his supercilious son entered a
and ushered in the Lord Hig a goo
himself, who was attended
guard of the Royal Archers. a ex?

The father and son,.who a eal’
to have to institute a vigorous first a
the evidences of poaching, W® 4 90 BS
tonished, and then vastly P eacmdangli®s g
ing the carcass of the huge ¢ PD,
before their very eyes. ; lai

exbese, your highness!” eX@7 iq.
gamekeener, turning WW. : re’
triumph to the Lord Ee a sp
“there is the very buck whic igo Dh.
saw borne into this cottage ors fous, ¢ hr 6
the huge robber whom the av@ aeert) “a
in the wood, and this young the Pabst
was his guide.” 9” asked sth Mp ab

“Didst thou slay this buck tock wer Pyle
Forester, eying Paul Pen
severity. +d the

“T did, your highness,” replied cord
poacher, recklessly. soq the L of Ny Na

“Thou devil’s imp!” Cviee pointing he
High Forester, enraged at pe: thou 8 Ys,

 
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
       
 

 

 

Ny Q W
‘ Je hh Th:
itt} ot let

 

the lad; “by what right 5 agllh | es
the king’s deer?” 1 gift! 8 pe hands
“By the right of the Tr? a fhough ibe My a
the young poacher, bold Y> ning? Hiker
himself scarcely knew the ™© oth oR a
words. r erfe pis § tian
The Lord High Foreste dro got. [Nyy tin’
aghast at this answer, herd hie at Phy
sword, and the gamekeeper é port? Higesto
threw up their hands 12 mu aD eS Pally ’n
such insolence. gall St be Wonk
But at this instant the the yoo” kt
ees his appearance from , 4 Me
ind. ted. yop8 PB.
“By the royal gift \” he repos pd} te pa

‘igh iby

ab 4 tpla
He cast off his slouching preastl cal ‘ :
iat

coarse cloak. A gleamuee iia
covered his massive chet ed jn er0
limbs and arms were clo ark and
scale, and his eyes wer owes
ing beneath his iknitted eter
The Lord High ies fell UP
white as a sheet, and &
knees. e
; “Your majesty!” were th
e could utter. d
The archers also knelt er d00% 3 g
his son sneaked out OF & prist)!®
appeared, with thelr hal
err 4 ord ”
“My Lord, your § +
The forester obeyed ae
hand, and gave. up his i and
“Retire to the castl® qoy de
coming!” said Richarie oor
“Ye would first — i. h
upon the royal cects ange
neg We will have me os
castle !” nee
The trembling Forester ors went ob
ond bidding, and his al nected ;
thou 33 :
st #

 

  
 
  

him.
“Now, my brave lad, #0 ree oy
pany me to the CA h nereal Kine

2 wi t need to “ jpg lek
Fe aw Ultridal” noid a war er ae ; re

He lifted the pretty? prilys toed
a and kissed her mer Ye net
Little Paul accom ‘ob.

The record from W uM of the
this story saith noth ine oer aD
befell the evil gan me what s0@
which was, doubtie *te that © 4

U

0
gor OW
Br AN

 

 

 

He appeared to be a man of tremendous

to the lad’s account of the conflict,

served; but it does pte
GooDp

 

 

 

 

NEWS.

 

a Paul Pentock was the gamekeeper
Meo’ Forest, and that before the
hyo, his royal patron, he was ap-
hs Hora High Forester of England,

, ale Bertha became the wife of

“tit of Nottingham.

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). C. Silver Savannah, N. Y.,

tery, brush, chalk, burnisher

Oke and ete., whole cost $6, will
8. All letters answered.

Elegp A,
hor trig” B. Wilcox, West DePere, Wis, has

"DS ¢ eakin
Ppp Pa douts & telephones for a B flat

ty © bass viol.
Xo beng Opn Hogan, Three Rivers, Mich.

; Nye foy ben Ewe, and other boys’

CONSUMPTION
in its
early stages
can be cured
by the prompt
use of

9
Ayers Cherry Pectoral
it soothes
the inflamed tissues,
aids expectoration,
and hastens
recovery.

Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co.

Lowell, Mass.

 

OUR NEW $15 Solid Gold Watch worth

aw S40. Best $15 Watch in the world. Perfect

aw timekeeper. arranted heavy, soLip .GoLp

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get by return mail A GOL-

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bring you in more money in one month

than anything elsein America, Abso-

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' , Thisisno humbug. Satisfaction pm:

anteed or money refunded. Just think of it! Show thisto friends, as
we willsend THREE of these Golden Boxes of Goods for 25
CENTS. Our Great Premium Offer. We willsend by express
absolutely Free one of our Watches asillustrated above to each of
the first 100 persons answering this pave ieee also our illustrated

catalogue of watches, We propose to give away these watches simp!
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to advertise our business,

VER aaa ats &

ELAM dads em eed ut

ALLL ee Atta

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A WHOLE PRINT MPLETE, PRAC & PERFECT.
Just as shown in cut. 3 Alphabets of neat Type, Bottle of Indelible Ink, Pad,
Tweezers, in neat case with catalogue and directions “HOW TO BE A
PRINTER.” Sets upany name, prints cards, paper, envelopes,etc., marks linen.
Worth 50c. BEWARE of cheap COUNTERFEITS. Postpaid only 25c.,3, 60c,
% for $1. Ag’ts wanted. INGERSOL & BRO., 65 CORTLANDT ST. N. ¥. CITY.

 

 

F 4 Ec E! a book containing hundreds of TRICKS,MAG-

s ICAL EXPERIMENTS, Ete, to all persons whe

send us 10¢. within the next 10 days for our RARE COI-

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inous Ink shines inthe dark; Invisible ink can not be read

until heated; Indelible ink for marking linen; Blue, Yellow,

Black, Violet and Red INKS, Western Cider, Florida Water,

Patent Starch Polish, Best Premium Soap and other secrets

worth a Fortune to you! and also Sof the funniest Cards ever issued. Send
Wc. at once and receive this great big bargain. MENTION PAPER.

Address; GLEN NOVELTY COMPANY, 18 N. William 8t., New York.

SILK

 

SATIN AND PLUSH pieces for crazy
oe work. Large package, 10c. Patkage

est Embroidery_ Silk, all colors, 10c.
Ladies’ Tortoise Shell Knife 3 blades
lic. All packed in nice box. with spool best silk threa
free; oeipsid, 30c. LULU LANTIER, 3031 Flora
Ave., Kansas City, Mo.

= PLATED PEARL SCARF PINFREE

 

 

, y To introduce our Watches and Jewelry, we will send the

above beautiful Scarf Pin free toanyone. Cut thisad. out

and return to us. Large illustrated catalogue sent free with a
W. HILL & CO., Wholesale Jewelers, 111 Madison St., Chicago,

for, wages, advertising,
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men to sell our goods by
sample to the wholesale and retail trade, We are the largest

manufacturers in our line. Liberal salary paid. Permanent
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Game of Forfeit, with full directions, 275 Autograph
Album Selections, 11 Parlor Games, Conundrums. Game of
Fortune. Mystic Age Table, Magic Music, Game
of Letters. The new book, Order of the Whistle.
1 of Flowers, Morse Telegraph Alphabet, Game of Shadow —_-__
Buff and 13 Magical Experiments. All the above on receipt of 3 cents for
age,ete. Address, NASSAU NOVELTY WORKS, 58 & 60 Fulton St, Yew York.

OUR 50-CENT HAMMER BRAND
POCKET-KNIFE is the’best bargain ever offered for the
money. Boys don’t overlook it; sent mail postage

paid; send at once to Alling & Lodge, Madison, Ind.

 

 

EAGLE PRINTING OUTFIT 15°

Three alphabets of type, type holder, bottle indelible ink,
@) ink pad and tweezers; put upin neat box with full direc-
mw tions for use. EAGLE SUPPLY CO., New Haven, Conn.

CARD
MOTHER

TAR TYPEWRITER by mail 50c. No Home
or Office complete without one. Agents wanted.
STAR TYPEWRITER CO., Oswego, N. Y.

 

LATEST STYLES,
BEST PREMIUMS,

#258 FREE
% are OSnD CO., NEW HAVEN, CON.

Be sure and use **Mire. Winslow’s
Soothing Syrup” for your children
while Teething. 25 cents a bottle.

 

 

50 FOREIGN STAMPS, Phillipine Islands, Mexico,
AAS etc., 3c. A. E. Ashfield, 3438 3d Ave., New York.

S$, LATEST STYLES.
FINE EaT pHiGES. SAMPLES FR E E
@LEN CARD 00., CLINTONVILLE, CONN.
FINEST GOODS, LATEST STYLES,
LOWEST Paices. Samples F REE
LAUREL CARD CO., CLINTONVILLE, CONN.
PHOTOS | 17 Beauties, latest out, only 10c. 57 for 25c.
* THURBER & Co., Bay Shore, N. Y.

FREE! SOSTAYNRW.SAMELE CARDS
MOUT

 

ARE UNMARRIED — Bend your sop reese ond
\t wage and receive by return mail o **ploasant
ee £: 0. BOX 621, CHICAGO, ILL.

 

 

 

 

 

ORGAN Chart teaches a tune in rorminutes. Agts.
wntd. 2cstamp. Music Novelty Co:, Detroit, Mich,

 

 

CA R Ds yew Sane OE of Ridin Kame, suk risa eo
vor Bh i oi 4 C
for 3 sons pen ops Histon aki 08 mone,

Little Speeches
FO

—FOR—
LITTLE FOLKS,
3 And hundreds of other Books of
Su) Recitations, Readings. Dialogues,
2 Plays, Charades, ableaux,
Pantomimes.
Books of Games, Sports, and
Amusements, Athletics, Gym-
nastics, Magic, etc., etc.

FOR BOTH LITLE AND BIG FOLKS,
Full descriptive Catalogues sent free on
application. Address, mentioning
Goop NEws,

The DeWitt Publishing House,
33 Rose Street, N. Y.

Three Books Given Away to Every Reader
RHE.

—

SERIES “BB”

BOOK PREMIUMS.

oe

Commenced in No, 19 and Ended in No. 30.

os

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 NxEws”
Lisrary 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” Lisrary
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

No. 1.—CAMP AND CANOE; or, Cruise of
the Red Jackets in Florida, by St. George
Rathborne.

No. 2.—SENT ADRIFT; or, Around the
World on Eighty Cents, by Henry A. Wheeler.

No. 3.—A YOUNG BLUE JACKET; or, En-
listed tor the War, by Robert E. Morse.

No. 4.~BOY CARIBOU-HUNTERS; or,
Treasure-Trove of Hudson Bay, by Charles
B. Cross.

No. 5.—ALL ABOARD; or, The Rival
Boat Clubs, by Weldon J. Cobb.

No. 6.—EVERY INCH A _ BOY; _or,
Amateur Actor’s Adventures, by Johu
inghorn.

No. 7.-WORKING HIS WAY; or, The

Brookville Boys’ Club, by Dwight Welden.

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. 10.—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; or,
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.

To

An
Tulk-

-§, & S, MANUAL LIBRARY,

ee

This series comprises hand-books of in-
formation on many useful and interesting
subjects. They are carefully compiled from
the best sources and connot fail to please
the reader.

Issued Semi-Monthly. Price 10 Cents,

No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.

1—The Album Writer’s Assistant.
2—The Way to Dance.

3—The Way to do Magic.

4—The Way to Write Letters.
5—How to Behave in Society.
6—Amateur’s Manual of Photography.
7—Out-of-Door Sports.

No. 8—How to do Business.

No. 9—The Young Gymnast.
No.10—The Hunter and Angler.

No. 1 1—Short-Hand for Everybody.
No. 12—The Taxidermist’s Mannal.
No, 13—Riddles and Their Answers.
No. 14—The Peerless Reciter.

No. 15—The Young Elocutionist.

No. 16—Easy Method of Ventriloguism.
No. 17—-The Standard Reciter.

Any of the above books will be sent to any
address on receipt of price, 10 cents, postage
prepaid, by the publishers,

 

Street & Sinith 81 Rose St. New Yorks

ihe ‘ese estabishinent in the
World for the treatment of Hair
Sa and Scalp, Eczema, Moles, Warts,
® Superfluous Hair, Birthmarks
Moth, Freckles, Wrinkles, Red
# Nose, Red Veins, Oily Skin, Acne,
Pimples, blackheads, Barber’s Itch,
Scars, Pittings, Powder Marks,
Bleaching, Facial Development,
se Hollow or Sunken Cheeks, etc.
Consultation free at office or by
letter. 128 page book on all skin and nee affections
and their treatment, sent sealed to any address on re-
ceipt of 10 cents.
OHN H. WOODBURY, Dermatologist,
125 W. 42 Street. New York City.

VOCODBURYS FACIAL SO

or the
skin and scalp, at Druggist or by Mail. 50c.

“GOOD NEWS” HUMANE SOCIETY
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.

HEROISM TO BE REWARDED.

Recognizing the fact that there are a large number of
young heroes who are never rewarded in any way for
risking their lives to save others, we have formed a
“Humane Society” in connection with Goop News.

The above cut is a fac-simile of a solid gold medal,
which will be presented, suitably engraved, to all who
become members of the above society. We also intend
publishing in the columns of Goop News an account
of the deed which entitles one to wear this emblem of
heroism.

To do justice to all, and avoid any deception. we will
have to take extra precaution, and we must therefore
have an authentic statement from a reliable source
that the partyin question jeopardized his life in a
good cause.

The existence of this society Qates from May, 1890,
and notice cannot be taken for heroic acts performed
prior to the date of organization of this society.

If you are entitled to become a member of this society,
and receive the gold medal described above, write out
a full history of the event, and have it witnessed and
signed by three responsible citizens, and a notary
public of the town or city where it happened.

The medal is intended for life-savers only.

FIFTY-TWO COPIES

OF

GOOD NEWS

Can be placed comfortably in our binders,
The price, including postage and pins, is

FIFTY CENTS.

It is, without doubt, the finest binder
ever offered, even for double the price we
ask, and is indispensable to those who are
keeping their papers, as it not only preserves
Goop News for future reference, and from
being lost, but keeps them clean and in
good order. It is both usefnl and ornamental.

 

It has a durable black embossed covet
with. flexible back, and a gold stamp title on
the ottside cover. It opens flat as any
book; and each week’s paper can be inserted
as soon as received. Full directions for in-
setting the paper accompany each binder.

We will send the Goon Nuws binder and a
package of binder pins, postpaid, to any
address on receipt of 50 cents.

This binder has never been offered
at this low figure béfote by any publisher.
Plainly stated, our reison for offeting this

 

binder below cost ix 43 a meshs of adver
tising,

 
  

y

re

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   

Puzzle Corner.

[Original contributions solicited.
send pussies containing obsolete

“Puzz
2734.)

No. 1—HIDDEN COUNTRIES.
1. Taunts can anger many people.
2. I found Camden marked on a map of New Jersey.
3. His name is either Layman or Wayman.
4. Can adamant withstand gunpowder ?

Woop B, PUZZLER.

No. 2—Cross WorD ENIGMA.
My first is in sugar, not in salt.
My second is in honest, not in fault.
My third is in seed, not in grain.
My fourth is in straight, not in lame.
My fifth is in thaw, not in rain.
My sixth is In street, also in lane.

Search carefully and find a poet with a lofty

mind.

0. 3—NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
Nine answer contains 24 letters and forms an old
proverb.

The 23, 15, 13 is a small
The 24, 7, 16 is a drunkard.

The 12, 10, 9 is a useful animal.

The 20, 14, 4, 5. 21, 3, 22 is a noxious plant.
The 14, 19, 18, 11 is an elevation,
The 1, 6. 8 is an insect.

The 17, 2, 1, 12 is to be joyous.

No. 4—BEHEADINGS.

Behead a rascal, and leave a temporary abode.

Behead a surely look, and leave an article worn
by a monk.

Behead a musical sound, and leave a brook.

Behead a kind of package, and leave a domestic
animal.

No. 5—DIAMOND.
1

No. 6—TRIPLE ACROSTIC.
1. This is naked, I ween;
2. A book like this is often seen;
8. With a crook this surely must be;
4. This is transparent you'll clearly see.
Read the primals, centrals, and finals aright,
And you'll find in each a very nice light.

No. T—CHARADE.
My first, is a denying word.
My second, one of the elements frozen.
My third, capabfe of doing.
My whole, worthy of attention.

No, 8—SyYNCOPATIONS.

1. Syncopate a bare head and leave wicked.

. Syncopate part of a velicie and leave a sharp

tool.

. Syncopate a child and leave a sheet of water.

. Syncopate a decoy and leave a vampire.

. Syncopate to strike hard and leave a pouch.

Syncopate a vessel and leave naked.

. Syncopate a country out-building and leave a

curse.

. Syncopate a man’s name and leave security.

. Syncopate preparatory sewing and leave the
bottom.

10. Syncopate a tiny glass ball and leave a couch.

OW HAoaRe wo

Answers to Puls i No. 40 Good News.

No, 1—

No. 2—

No. 3—

No. 4—

No, 5—

No, 6—

No, 7—

No. 8—
R —o steam, team, meat, mate, mat.
0. 9—

No, 10~—

No. 11—
No, 12—

656

  

GoonD NEWS.

 

e Editor” Goop NEws, New York City, P. O. Box

 

 

 

  
   

g dog.
. A city (abbreviated.)
. A medicine for malaria,

   

aa\ ie

 

— bik ieee,
jee Age ”*..
So

 

C. ADA

 

 

“Took Before You Leap”—or a “Barn Yard Tragedy.”

 

 

Short Stops.
UNDERTAKER’S motto—Circumstances alter burial
WHeEN is an egg notoval? When you turn it

a
ALREADY cut and dried—Sandwiches at a rail-

Pay day soon comes around to the man whose
pay 1S a punishment,

WueEn birds soar they warble, but when a
throat’s sore it doesn’t.

Ir a fender and fire-irons cost $3, what will a ton
of coal come to?

In most cases where people are wronged, there
is contributory negligence.

Wary are cowardly soldiers like butter? They
will run when exposed to fire.

TIE a coward’s hands behind him, and you give
him additional reason to boast.

On a dull day we long to meet an old sailor who
has been shipwrecked and eaten his nan.

 

Az
coe ey
oesen
RrPeHn1ses
Ay
Ko
wn

EvEerY man should put by something for a rainy
Goat, coat, boat. day, if it is nothing more than an umbrella,
fellow says, if time is money, he
ange a little of, his for cash.

MODEL SURGICAL OPERATION.—To take the cheek
out of a young man, and the jaw out of a woman.

Ir you give a sly laugh when you say a man is:
wicked, you flatter him more than it you say he is

is willing to exc

Two hundred young Hindoo women are said to
be studying medicine in the medical schools in

WE shall not know each other there if we are to
identify our neighbor by what is said on his tomb-

Dr. Winsrow, the Egyptolo:
ancient Egyptian, is spelle
nounced ‘‘ma-ew,”

A MAN Is never too young to spend his money on
the other sex, and never too ol
what they cost him.

THERE fs folly in living in the future; the dollar
that you denied for a pleasure to-day
spent on a coffin for you to-morrow.

A SMALL Boston girl of three, after a visit in the
country, remarked wistfully :
“T wish we had a house out of doors.”

t, says that cat, in
“mau,” and pro-

to abuse them for

BEPa
Spr
Pi24o

1, Read, been, Aberdeen.
2. Ma, boy, Amboy.

8. A man, Anam,

4, Sob, ton, Boston.

5. Scat, kill, Catskill. An Engligh judge has recently defined ‘‘gentle-

man” as a term which ‘includes anybody who has
nothing to do and is outside of the workhouse.”

A FRENCH paper describes a young lady as one
entleman friends until she 1s six

8. Mooselocma,Juntic,
years old, and then leaves off until she is sixteen.

4, Winnepiseoegee.

BALD-HEADED men are sO numerous in Chicago,
that a male audience in that city is said to look,
when viewed from above, live a cobble-stone pave-

Honesty is the best policy.
Port, rate (portrait).

SOLVERS TO PUZZLES.
Harry Sourben, James Ottison, Maud J. Morris,
William Pancord, Joseph Thimig, Albert T. Pierce,
Hugo Zaremba, Daniel J, Mangan, C. B, Klein,

“My dear doctor,” said an Irishman, “it’s no use
your giving me an emetic;
Dublin, and it would not stay on my stomach five

I tried it twice in

 

 

Our Mail Bag.

racanacee on subjects of general interest out are
dealt with in the ‘Mail Bay.” Medical or legal
questions not answered. Good Nrws goes to press
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Communications intended for
this column should be addressed ““Goop News” Mail
Bag, P. O. Box 2734, New York City.]

 

aM act
C. R. F. (South Essex, Mass.)—You have the same
privileges.
C. EF. B. (Elmwood, Mass.)—The story you inquire
about did not appear in the paper mentioned.

A. M. N. (New _York.)—Guesses received without the
certificate found on first page, will not be counted.

Addie B. (Chicago, Lil.)—Certificate must accompany
every guess.

D. H. (Troy, N. Y.)—1, We never heard of the firm
you inquire about. 2. Your handwriting is good.,

F. L, K. (Mt. Vernon, N.Y.)—There is no premium on
the coin you inquire about.

_O. Z. (Clinton, Mass.)—We do not undertake to nego-
tiate exchanges in any case. Write to the advertisers
direct,

T. T. (New York.)—We cannot comply with your re-
quest, as the letter you sent us in December was de-
stroyed after answering it.

LL. Brancher (New York.)—Your letter received with-
out address, and, therefore, we cannot send paper
asked for.

W. A. R. Boston, Mass.)\—Your stamp notice is an
advertisement, and, therefore, cannot appear in ex-
change column.

i. E. B. (Baltimore, Md.)\—The mistake occured by
changing the day of publication from Thursday to
Saturday. We thank you for your good wishes.

A, W. at Til.)—We are pleased to learn that
you like our publications, and hope you will continue
to like them.

A. P. K. (Crookston, Minn.)—The net cost is a special
arrangement with the maker, which we are not at
liberty to divulge. Binder was sent you January 10.

Constant Reader (Milwaukee, Wis.)—Our choice is
about é ne with a slight preference in favor of the
machinist.

G. W. C. (Providence, R. I.)}—The mistakeewas dis-

covered some time ago. We are always pleased to hear

from our readers on any subject and glad to answer
all questions.

W. &. M. (St. Paul, Minn.)—From your description,
we would say you are thirteen years of age, but from
our handwriting, and the tone of your letter, we would
ke you to be much older.

Dynamite Din (Chicago Til.)—Send us your name

and address, and we will forward you a catalogue of
our Log Cabin, and Nugget Libraries, containing

the stories you inquire abou

Reader (Washington, D. C.)\—-We do not know of a
position as barber on man-of-war ships. Sailors, as a

rule, shave themselves. You will receive full informa-
tion at recruiting office in your city.

J. J. R. (Albany, N. Y.)—The p
to $2,000 according to quality.
we answer no, we do not. We
lar writers only. Your handwriting is good.

HY. B. (Elmira, N. Y.)—Yes, book prenian coupons

are always good. We have answered similar question

s0 many times, that we are surprised you have not

read it.

Ola Salicte (New York.)—In No. 12 Goop News, under
“Short Talks With the Boys,” by M. Quad, you will find

an interesting article about Annapolis Naval Academy.

It tells how to get there, studies, duties, salaries, and,

in fact, full information.

S. L. W. Philadelphia, Pa.)—1, We do not think there
is any bonus required. 2 You will never be a sailor

D. E. F. Des Moines, Iowa.)—The firm you
are reliable, and will do all they adve

‘ plishers
F. A_ G. (San Antonio, Tex.)—Write to the Re ‘york
of, Builder and Woodworker, 7 Maiden Lane, New

f
A. E. N. (Denver, Col.)—1. January, 10 1871,
Wednesday. 2. Exchange notice willl be inserted

a

‘ jxit!
J. D. (Chicago, T.)—The proveption’ used 2 mite a
the solutions, are not pu Di £9 KDW
some reliable druggist who would be

1}
S. G. (Akron, Ohio.)—You should have simp ;
and said, “thank you,” when the young man to meet
on being introduced that he was “very
you.’

G. T. (Columbus, Ohio.)—We. will send ice,
book in Goop News Lisrary on receipt Hog and ¥?
cents, or send us set of premium t.
will send you any three you may selec

jssue
B. J. W. Buffalo, N. ¥.)—1. We number erie wit
facilitate matters.’ The numbers wil wm 1
out regard to the volume. 2. Twenty
tained in one volume.

: ; rt
Tip (Omaha, Neb.)—1. An interesting & ppeared
wood engraving trade, iy Charles PONO 3p Goon NENG
0.18 GooD Nrws. 2. From No. 4 ri
would be nine months, for which the subse
1.90.

our
a al eae
F. M. (North Tiverton, RB. 1.)—You can Frnary That f
gucsees together at end of ae i
only reason for sending : i
there is any tie in guesses, fhe one first 2
ceive the prize.

express
F, H. H. Cheyenne, Wyo.) We pe. sane conte
post-office charges on our priZ ed ve")
well as our publications. Don’t be alou wil pot bar" |
ou are fortunate in winning @ PMZ
Oo pay any charges whatever.

B_N.D. (Jamaica, N. ¥.)—1. The of ow
the United States census enumerait

folk County has 62,300 population, * includes
127,103 population. 2. Fifty cen

postage with Goop News binder.

0
not kno’ n
T. A. B. (Brooklyn, N. Y.)—1. We do menti .
free military school in the States YO" nition mcd
pigs be apie, however, to accu ician. > “fnq
exchange for your service irec your
get a list of names out of a school dvne pusiness
for one at some public library.
inquire about is a profitable one.

Bookbinder (St. Paul, Minn.)—T0 Xmen gel
pervious to grease and water, P arcaceptra to tr
lunged into a warm solution
ine, to which has been added Mo
per cent. glycerine, and aes if sir is eee
yaper is impervious to Ry pe
a waternrout, the same parchme” er cent.
bon bisulphide contain’) fe was BD
oil and four per cent. india rub™ a of Easter Ye of SH
H. Z. (New York,)—1. The festiv™ye obser was
stituted about A. D. 68, the da ‘astiD, in 597.

was fixed in England by, St: to be bse
dained by the Couneil Fg mu hole Con 08,
same day throughou firs cl
Easter is the firet Sunday afte Bie men
occurs after the 21st of Mi day. ,
year on February 11. Easter SM. sumer gL
29, 2. Spring commences Martnter: DeceD
Autumn, September 23, and

A. J. (Philadelphia, Pa.)—YO you, 8)
derstand the guessing contest, ae in N
nae yl Sues the oe t
stead of a total guess 0
with No. 37. If we did not close tir the last that
7, but allowed readers 10 800" very Sour ais

£ rest, 16 W ul 8
@ an accurate count and send te first os
instead of a guess. AS 10 I r to ,
sues to count from, and only fou lish?
i Pp 1g Dea

W, A. (Braddock, Pa.)—1. Then op or Obi ct
in pee Yorks, OE The Deba il inein ol
sistant and Rules 0 , emeé! nts ;
matters pertaining to the manas pirt oat “HO el
it upon receipt of priaves are, Oy ite ai
y badges, or medals ae P ating parired ?
Society” medals whic: Ww 3 08
ly. “When using h eet of Mop is one OF
on one side only.
every letter sent through the

ri finn.)—1. Wee jclose, fn tC te
r BP eons necessary Helo ei wt i Pe
municavion to us in a SPY + onces Pu gheet 0
ay) a i Kiet ie separat evel,
“nt should be ac

and your full name and address P Bate,
Do not write question
binders or subscriptions,
contest letters etc, Lo in the Tog great
e delayed sever a

order by this plan, besides ¢ sep

ers have been receive

rice ranges from $100
To your other question
publish stories by popu-

 

by studying it from a book. Practical experience is
necessary. 3. You can procure a book showing the

different ropes, etc., at any book store or public library.

eee O ge yest 4)

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J. R. (New York.)—1. To become tall am@ rg In -
to bed early: practice Nae aumb-bg yan ous } Tj
clubs, and take gymnastic ex . Ee
be five feet two inches, and weigh 115 poune™

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ask 8)
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B. B. (Memphis, Tenn.)—The, que peculiMt ays xX
“what makes boys. so hateful a t always evil , \
and sounds effeminate. It is Drired from wt i eo
but simply a habit, usually or ot the D! ow
panions or surroundings. Loo! surprised,
everything, and you wi 74 Omne-
natured and happy you will apet

render ,P paper

two and 4 jhe
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Treat each subjec ai
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Communications bY us, Dut A pot
were not given correctly: write us 48) .
with their request. Ple
full name an address + “o, 3B Ww sia

meaulnne: rence \
Benjamin, T. Mer, o
Berry, Wart en. Millets irene w
Black, Hi: Ss. Moon, Geore?
Mor 0 ‘yarenee
Bryan, 8. 0. Morte W. di
Cobb, Weldon J. orn ans Wa ial
, patter 8. ok
ferce, v* ue
Countryman, R. L. packard, zs cnatle® a
arence. gent % ; e é
J. naw, Oe 4
Evans, RA, sollen ery ii, 8e
Graham, G. D. gothed, Ww ;
pager tynrenl | fh
a ae Tay eh E. W: j 3 th
Henson, Thomas. wer J Mnont, es,
Wels Fond J. }
, Charles. , 0) tn
Judick e Wert ards i _