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Entered According to AcPof Congress, in the Year 1898, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washingion, D. O.
Entered as Second-ciass Matter at the New York, N.Y., Post-Office.

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A BOY’S FORTUNE:

Or, THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF BEN BAKER.

By HORATIO ALGER,

Author of ‘‘ Adrift in the City,” “Grit,” “Frank and Fearless,” “ Dan the Detective,” “ Plucky Paul Palmer,” ete.

 

“WERE IS YOUR UNCLE'S
STORE’

 

 

AS HIS EYE FELL UPON BEN, THE MAN STARTED, AND MUTTERED TO HIMSELF: “THAT BOY IN NEW YORK! WHAT DOES HE WANT HERE?”

 
2370

[This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.]

A Boy’s Fortune;

oR, THE

Strange Adventures of Ben Baker.
By HORATIO ALCER,

Author of “Adrift in the City,” “Grit,” “Frank and
Fearless,” “Dan ithe Detective,” “Plucky
Paul Palmer,” ete.

CHAPTER I.

’ OLIVER HI'TCHCOCK’S LUNCH-ROOM.
6 47 AKE up there! This is no place
WA, to sleep.”

“\ The speaker was a policeman,

ov the scene was City Hall Park,
and the person addressed was a boy of
perhaps sixteen, who was reclining on
one of the park benches, with a bundle at
his side.

The officer accompanied his admonition
with a shaking which served to arouse
the young sleeper,

“Ts if morning?” asked the boy, drow-
sily, not yet realizing his situation.

“No, it isn’t. Don’t you know where
you are?”

“T know now,” said the boy, looking
about him.

“Come, get up, Johnny! This is no

lace for you,” said the officer, not un-
<indly, for he was a family man, and
had a boy of his own not far from the
age of the young wayfarer.

The boy got up, and looked about him
undecidedly. Clearly he did not know
-where to go.

“Are you a stranger in the city?” asked
the policeman.

“Yes, sir. I only got here this after-
noon,”

“Then you have no place to sleep?”

“ No ”

“Haven’t you got money enough to go
to a hotel? There is Leggett’s Hotel, just
down Park Row,” pointing eastward.

“T have a little money, but I can’t af-
ford to go to a hotel.”

“You can go to the Newsboys’ Lodging
House for six cents.”

“Where is it?”

The officer told him.

“J feel hungry. 1 suppose there isn’t
any place where I can get supper so late
as this?” ’

“O, yes! There’s one close by. Do you
- gee a light over there?”

The officer pointed to a basement oppo-
site the post-office, at the corner of Beek-
man street and Park Row.

“Yes, [see it,” answered the boy, “Is
it a good place?”

“I should say so. Why, that’s Oll
Hitcheock’s. You can’t get a better cup
of coffee or sandwich anywhere in New
York. Ioften get lunch there myself,
wien I don't have time to go home.

“Thank you for telling me. I’ll go over.”

Ben Baker, for that is the name of our
young hero, walked across the street,
and descended the steps into the well-
known restaurant or lunch-room of
Olive? Hitchcock. Open by night as well
as by day, there is hardly an hour of the
twenty-four in which it is not fairly
well patronized, while at times it is
thronged. It is a favorite resort for men
of all classes—printers, journalists, news-
men--who drop in in the eariy morning
on their way to or from the offices of the
great morning papers for their regular
‘supplies—politicians and business men of
all kinds.

More than once in Oliver Hitchcock's
old saloon, farther up the same street,
Horace Greeley, the elder Bennett, and
Raymond, of the Zimes, could be found
at the plain tables, unprovided with
cloths, but bearing mepetizing dishes,

When Ben entered the restaurant at
half-past eleven he was surprised to find
most of the tables occupied,

Coming from the country, where ten
o’clock found nearly every one in bed, he
was much surprised to find so many per-

sons up, and engaged in supping.

“People in New York seem to sit up all
night,” he thought.
+ e took a vacant seat, and the waiter

soon coming up to him, stood in silent
expectation of an order. !

“Give me a cup of coffee ‘and a sand-

wich,” said Ben.
: 5 What kind?”

The waiter sped on his errand, and soon

set before our hero a cup of fragrant
coffee, steaming hot, and a sandwich
made of tender, meat and fresh bread,
_ which tasted delicious to the hungry boy

oe _—so delicious that he resolved to forego

the intended
another, ¢: ;
_ While he was eating the second sand-
_ wich, he observed that a COURS DAT, sit-
ting just opposite, was eying him atten-
tively. ~
__ He was tall, ae

der, and had a kindly

piece of pie, and ordered

face,

eomplexioned, slen-

3.

a .

 

HAS

GrooDp

“You seem to relish your supper, John-
ny,” he said,

“Yes, I do, but my nameisn’t Johnny.”

The young man smiled.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but in New
York we call boys by that name, if we
don’t kuow their real names. I suppose
you have not been here long?”

“No; I only arrived this afternoon,”

“Come to make your fortune, eh?”

“Well, I don’t know. I should like to,
but if [can make a living it is all I ex-
pect. Besides, I have another object,”
added the boy, slowly.

“Were you ever here before?”

“No, sir.”

“You are up rather late. You don’t sit
up so late in the country, do you?”

“Oh, no, lam in bed by nine o’clock
generally.”

“We don’t go to bed early here. I my-
self haven’t been in bed before midnight
for three years.” 5

“Do you like to sit up so late?” asked

en,

“T didn’t at first. Now I am used to it.
My business keeps me up late.”

Seeing that Ben looked curious, he add-
ed:

“T am a reporter on a morning paper.”

“Do you like it?” asked Ben, doubt-
fully.

“Oh, yes. It isn’t a bad business.”

“What paper do you write for?” asked
Ben, with considerable respect for a man
who wrote for the papers.

“TI used to work on the Sun. Now I'm
on the Herald. It suits me very well,
while lama young man, but I shonld
like a different position when I am older,”

“Ts it hard work?”

“Sometimes. I am liable to be sent off
at five minutes’ notice to any part of the
city. Then I am expected to keep my
eyes open, and make note of anything
that comes in my way. There was a big
fire last night about one o'clock, up town.
I heard of it as I was going up in the
horse-cars, so I hurried to the spot, and
instead of going to bed I got all the in-
formation I could, hurried back to the
office and wrote it up. I got extra pay for
it. Besides, it shows interest, and may
help me to promotion.”

“Have you got through for to-night?”
asked Ben.

“Yes; I feel tired, being up so late last
night. When I leave here shall go
home and to bed. By the way, where are
you staying?”

“Nowhere,” answered Ben, in some em-
barrassment, :

“You are not going to sit up all night,
are you?”

“No. I suppose I must go somewhere.

“There is a hotel close by—Leggett’s.”

“So a policeman told me, but I baven‘t
much money, and I had better not go to
a hotel. He said there was a Newsboys’
Lodging House, where I could get Jodg-
ing for six cents.”

“Tam afraid you couldn’t get in at
this late hour,”

Ben looked perplexed.
and needed rest.

“Then I suppose I shall have to go to
the hotel,” he answered. “Do you know
how much they charge?”

“Not exactly. It depends on the room.
I can direct you to a cheaper lodging even
than you could get at the Newsboys’
Lodging House.”

“T wish you would,” said Ben, looking
up hopefully. \

“Then come home with me. My room-
mate is away for a few days, and I have
room for you.”

“Thank you, sir, if it won’t inconven-
ience you.

“Not at all.”

Ben had read of adventurers that lie in
wait for unsuspecting travelers, and
“rope them in,” but he entertained no sus-

icion of the young man who had so

indly offered him a bed, The mere fact
that he was a newspaper man seemed to
Bén a guarantee of respectability.

As Hugh Manton (the reporter) and he
went ap to the counter to pay the amount
of their checks, a stout, handsomely
dressed man, of portly form and medium
stature, entered the restaurant. As his
eye fell upon Ben, he started, and mut-
tered to himself: .

“That boy in New York! What does
he want here?”

CHAPTER II.
‘ A LODGING IN ST. MARK’S PLACE.

UGH MANTON, whose calling
had trained him to quick observa-
tion, did not fail to notice that the
stout gentleman was in some way

moved by the sight of his young compan-
ion. This surprised him not a little, for
in the portly gentleman he recognized a
wealthy retail merchant, whose store was
located on the upper part of Broadway.
' “Can there be any connection between
this country boy and the rich Mr. Wal-
ton?” he asked himself, curiously.

”

He felt sleepy,

NEwWSs.

out of the restaurant. It was twelve
o'clock by the clock on the City Hall
when they emerged from the lunch-room.,
A Third avenue horse car was just pass-
ing.

“Follow me!”
jumped aboard,

Ben did so.

“My room is on St. Mark’s place,” he
said. “I suppose you don't know where
that is?”

“No; I have never been in New York
before.”

“Tt must be nearly two miles from the
City Hall Park. It is the eastern part
of Highth street.”

“Fare!” said the conductor.

Ben put his hand into his pocket.

“No,” said his companion, “1 have the
change.”

“Thank you!” said Ben, “but you ought
not to pay for me.”

“Oh, you shall take your turn some
time.”

They sat down in the car, and, both be-
ing tired, sat silent. :

After riding from fifteen to twenty
minutes they came in sight of a large
| brown-colored building, set between
Third and Fourth avenues, just beyond
the termination of the Bowery. «

“We will get out here,” said Hugh
Manton. “That building is the Cooper
Institute. Of course you have heard of
it? We turn to the right, and will soon
reach my den.”

Time was when St. Mark’s place had
some pretension to gentility, but now it
is given up to lodging and _ boarding-
houses, In front of a brick house, be-
tween Second and First avenues, the re-
porter paused,

“This is where I live,” he said.

He opened the door with a latch-key,
and they entered a dark hall, for at eleven
o’clock the light was-extinguished,

“Tollow me,” he said to Ben. “Take
hold of the banister, and feel your way.
I am generally the last in,” he said,
“unless some one of my fellow-lodgers
is out having a good time. One more
flight of stairs. So, here we are.”

The rear room on the third floor was
his. Opening the door, he quickly lighted
a gas-jet on one side of the room.

“There, my young friend,” said the re-
porter, “you can undress as soon as you
please, and jump into that bed nearest
the window. It isn’t luxurious, but will
serve your turn.” ‘

“Thank you,” said Ben. “T feel very
tired. I shan’t lie’ awake long to con-
sider what kind of a bed Tamin. Do
you get up early?”

“Sometimes 1 get up as early as nine
o’clock.”

Ben laughed.

“Do you call that early?” he said. “Six
o’clock isn’t extra early in the country.”

“My young friend—by the way, what's
your name?”

“Ben Baker.”

“Well, Ben, let me tell you that nine
o’clock is a very early hour for a re-

orter. We'll rise at nine, and go out to

reakfast together.”

“I think I can sleep till then,” said
Ben, “for I am as tired as I ever was
after a hard day’s work on the farm.”

* * * * * *

“Wake up, Ben!”

It was the next morning, and the words
were spoken by Hugh Manton, as he gave
a gentle shake to the still sleeping boy.

3en opened his eyes and looked about
him in a confused way. Finally recollec-
tion came to him.

“T thought I was in that park down
town,” he said, with a smile.

“Do you know where you are now?”

“ Yes.”

“Wave you slept well, youngster?”

“T have had a bully sleep.”

“And you feel ready for breakfast?”

“1 think I can eat some.”

The two new acquaintances dressed and
went down stairs. Ben was about to
rg his bundle, but the reporter stopped
dim.

“Leave it here,“ he said, “for the pres-
ent. Blodgett won’t be back for three or
four days, and you can stay here till he
returns. You won't want to be lugging
that bundle all over town,”

j oe are very kind,” said Ben, grate-
ully.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I came to the
city myself/a poor country youth, and I
had a hard struggle at first till I reached
my present pinnacle of wealth,” he con-
cluded, with a smile.

“Are reporters well paid?” asked
innocently.

“That depends! Whatever they earn, it
is seldom that one gets fifty dollars
ahead. That is because, as a rule, they
are improvident, and sometimes dissi-
porte I am not as well paid as some,

uf, I make a little writing sketches for
the weekly story papers. I pick up two
or three hundred dollars a year that way.
Then J take bettér care of my money than
some. I laid up five hundred dollars last
year, and nearly as much the year be-

re » Z

said the reporter, as he

Ben,

 

to question Ben. | oi2) ee
hen their bills were paid they went"

poe resolved to take an early opportun-
4 5

. You will soon be rich,” said Ben, to

 

whom five hundred dollars seemed a largey
sum of money. a

The reporter smiled.

“It takes considerable money tomake a
man rich.in New York,” he said. “How
ever, I know it makes me feel very com
fortable to think I have a thousand dol
lars in the bank.”

“YT should think it
seriously.

“Here we are!” said the reporter, paus:
ing in front of a restaurant on Ninth
street, facing the side of the great retail
store established by the late A. T. Stew-
art. “We can getacomfortable breakfast
inside for a low price.” z

They entered, and sat down at one of:
the small side tables. Hugh Manton
ordered a beefsteak and a cup of coffee.
This, with bread and butter, cost twenty
cents. Ben duplicated the order. The
meat was not of the best quality, but iff
was as good as could be afforded at the
price, and Ben ate with the zest of a
healthy boy of his age.

“By the way, Ben,” said the reporter,
with apparent carelessness, though he:
scanned the face of his young companion™
attentively as he spoke, “are you ac-
quainted with a clothing merchant of
this city named Nicholas Walton?” 4

ae started in irrepressible astonish-
ment, ; 4

“What makes you ask?” he said. “Did-
you know he was my uncle?”

It was Hugh Manton’s turn to be as-
tonished. 3

“Your uncle!” he exclaimed. “You
don’t mean to say Nicholas Walton is
your uncle?"

“Yes, Ide. My mother is his sister.” |

“Ts it possible? He has the reputation
of being very rich, while you——”

“While I, am very poor. Yes, that is |
true.”

“Are you going to call upon him?”

“Yes. I thought, being my uncle, he
might give me a place in his store.”

“Did you write him that you were |
coming?”

“No—that is, not lately. I wrote three —
months ago, and he wrote back that I~
had better stay where I was,”

“What were you doing?”

“JT was working on a farm.
three dollars a week.”

“Did you live on the farm?”

“No; I. lived with my mother,”

“She is living, then?”

“Yes,” said 2g and his face lighted ©
up with love for his absent mother.

“T should think Mr. Waiton would do
something for his own sister.”

“So he does. He sends her twenty-five
dollars a month, She lives in a small
house belonging to my grandfather. My —
uncle is part owner, but he lets mother —
live in it.” q

“T suppose you don’t like the country,
or you wouldn’t have coine to the city.”

“T have a taste for business, and no
taste for farming. My uncle cameto New —
York a poor boy, and he- has succeeded. |
I don’t. see why I can’t.”

“It doesn’t always follow,” said the re- |
pee thoughtfully. “Still I think you
nave it in you to succeed. You look bold,
persevering, and resolute.” a

“T mean to succeed!” said Ben, firmly. |
“T am not afraid of work.” a

“Shall you call on your uncle this
morning?’ ,

“Yes; I want to find out as soon as I
can what Iam to depend upon.”

“Very well! Just make my room your
home. I shall not be back myself till —
midnight, or later, but hereis alatch-key —
which will admit you to my room when- —
ever you Jike. I have Blodgett’s with
me, which I can use myself.”

would,” said Ben

I was paid

CHAPTER III. —
THE MERCHANT’S SECRET.

E

~~

IVE years before Ben’s arrival in |
the city, Nicholas Walton kept a —
moderate sized store on Grard ©
street. He was doing a good busi-

ness, but he was not satisfied. He wished

to take a store on Broadway, and make
his name prominent amiong business men.
In this wish his wife entirely sympa-
thized with him. She boasted aristocratic
lineage, but when Mr. Walton married
her she was living in genteel poverty,
while her mother was forced, very much
against her will, to take lodgers. It was
a great piece of good luck for Theodosia
Granville to marry a prosperous young
merchant like Nicholas Walton, but she
chose to consider that all the indebted-
ness was on the other side, and was
fond of talking about the sacrifice she
made in marrying a man of no family.
They had two children, Emiline and
Clarence Plantagenet Walton, the latter
about three months older than his cousin
Ben. Both were haughty and arrogant in
temper and disposition, and asa matter.
of course neither was a favorite with
their young associates, though each had —
flatterers whose interest was served by |
ayer yeeae OE ae
At that time Ben’s father «was living
and practicing as a physician in the little

 
la large

)make gq

“How

ry coms

and dol
Lid Ben,

r, paus
1 Ninth
ib retai|
. Stew4
eakfast

t one of

Manton
coffee,
twenty
rte
, but it
| at the
st of a

porter,

igh he
panion

ton is —

ister,”
tation

hat is |
le, he
were
three |
bat I

paid

Cautious.

his

Seen

town of Sunderland, fifty miles distan®
nthe country. There was comparatively
little intercourse between the families,
though there was not yet that difference
in their worldly circumstances that after-
Ward arose,
One day, just as the clerks were getting
‘ready to close up, Nicholas Walton was

' surprised by the sudden appearance of | will

his brother-in-law, Dr. Baker.

“What brings you to town, James?” he

asked,

“Business of great importance,” an-

_Swered Baker.
“Indeed!” said Walton, curiously.

“T will tell you all about it, but not

here.”

“Do you go back to Sunderland to-

night?”
“No; I think of trespassing upon your
_ hospitality.”

“Certainly. I shall be glad to have you
Stay with me. My wife and children are
out of town—visiting a sister of hers in

- Hartford—but the servants will see that
_ we are comfortable.”

-_ “All the better. Of course I should
have been glad to see Mrs. Walton and
the children, but now you can give me

' more attention.”

“TI wonder whether he wants to borrow
Money,” thought the merchant, with
some uneasiness. “If he does, I shall re-
_ fuse as civilly as I can. I don’t propose
to be a prey to impecunious relatives. I

need all the money I can command to
further my own schemes. In _ three or
four years, if things go well, I shall be

— able to move to Broadway, and then our

family can take a higher social position.
y wife would like to have me move at
Once, but I don’t choose to do anything
_rashly, The time has not yet come for so
important a step.
“We will go now,” said. Mr. Walton.
“The clerks- will closeup. If you will
walk as far as the Bowery, We will board
a Fourth avenue car.”
“Dc you still live on Twelfth street,
- Nicholas?”
“Yes, Mrs. Walton urges me to take
_& house on Madison avenue, but I must
not_ go too fast.” ;
“You are prospering, I take it, Nicho-

i * las?” :

“He is feeling his way toward a loan, I

am afraid,” thought the merchant.

“Yes,I am making headway,” he ad-
Mitted, warily, “but I have to be very
Oftentimes I am short of
noney, I assure you. In fact, I am ham-
red by my small capital.”
_ “My neighbors in Sunderland would be
Surprised to hear that,” said Dr. Baker,
Smiling. “They look upon you as one of
_the merchant princes of New York.”
“Do they?” said Walton, looking grati-
fled. “Some day I hope to be what they
think I am now.” :
. ou will be, if you are not too much

»”

And you, I hope you are

B+ Prospering ” said the merchant, guard-

“

have no cause for complaint,” said
brother-in-law, “especially now.”
Vhat does he mean by ‘especially
now?” thought the merchant.
“Tam glad to hear it,” he said, aloud.
_ Arrived at the house in Twelfth street
—it was a plain brick house of three sto-
ries—dinner was found to be awaiting,
nd as they sat down at once, there was
no opportunity for a private conversation.
hen the cloth was removed, and they
Were left to themselves, Walton invited
8 brother-in-law’s confidence by saying,
purgentivel y:
.. 90 business of importance brought you
New York, doctor?” =
_ Yes, business of great importance !”
“I suppose it seems great to him,”
thought Walton. “Well,” he said aloud,
you have aroused my curiosity. It is
Only fair to gratify it.
_ “That is vial I propose to do. Let me
Say, then, that this day has made a great
onepRe in me.”
pa 2 ; aot see any change,” said Walton,
uzzled,
“Yet it has; I awoke this morning a
Door man. To-night I am rich”
«, You—haven’t been speculating?” said
Walton, curiously. :
No; I had no money to speculate with.
ut to-day a fortune has come to me,”
> fortune! How much?” -
_ One hundred thousand dollars,” an-
Swered the physician.
, Ahundred thousand dollars!” ejacu-
tated Nicholas Walton, staring at his
: brother-in-law in amazement.
eBay
“Explain yourself—that is, if you are
not joking.”
__ Fortunately it is not a joke. Asto the
€xplanation, here it is: Some years ago I
was called, when a young practitioner
New York (I began here, you know,)
attend a wealthy West Indian planter,
rm at the New York Hotel. He was
ically sick, and required constant at-
tion.” I had little to do, and devoted
: If to him. He was convinced that he
wed his life to me. He paid me hand-
nely, then, and requested me to keep

| him apprised of my whereabouts. I have

done so. Yesterday I received a letter,
| requesting me to come to New York, and
| eall at a certain room in the Fifth Avenue
| Hotel. I did so. I found a Cuban gentle-
man, who, first apprising me that my
| former patient was dead, added, to my
|amazement, that he had left me in his
one hundred thousand dollars.
| Furthermore, he had the amount with
|him in negotiable securities, and trans-
ferred them at once to my hands.”

io you have them with you?”

A OB

“Tt was strangely informal.”

“True, but this gentleman was about
to sail for Europe, to be absent five years
—he sailed this afternoon—and he wished
to be rid of his commission.”

“Tt is like a romance,” said the mer-
chant, slowly.

“Yes, it’s like aromance. I don’t mind
telling you,” added the doctor, in a lower
tone, “that it relieves me oe much,
Conscious, as I am, that my life hangs on
a thread, it makes me easy about the
future of my wife and child.”

“Your life hangs onathread! What do
you mean?”

“T mean,” said the physician, seriously,
“that our family is subject to heart dis-
ease. My grandfather died at a min-
ute’s notice; so did my father; so, in all
probability, shall I. No insurance com-
pany, knowing this, would insure me,
and, till this windfall came, I was sub-
ject at times to great anxiety.”

“Does your wife—my sister—know that
you have received this money?” asked
Walton, slowly.

“No; she merely knows that I received
a letter from New York.”
ane you are really liable to die- sud-

enly?”
, ; I shall. probably drop dead some
day. My father died at my present age.
Any sudden excitement——’

“Good heavens! what is the matter
with you?” exclaimed Walton, springing
to his feet, excitedly.

“What do you mean?” asked the phy-
sician, startled. .

“Your face is livid; you look likea
corpse. Great heavens! has your time
come?”

Doctor Baker rose to his feet, in terri-
ble agitation; his face changed; he put
his hand on his heart, swayed himself for
a moment, and then fell lifeless. ©

Walton had supplied the sudden excite-

doom, ss

Nicholas Walton, half-terrified, half-
triumphant, gazed at his victim. He
knelt down, and tearing open the vest of
his visitor, placed his hand up vn his
heart.

It had ceased to beat.

“Now for the securities!” he murmured,
hoarsely. ;

They were found. A brief examination
showed that they were negotiable by
bearer. He carefully locked them up in
his desk, and then, ringing the bell hast-
ily, summoned a physician, One came,
but could afford no help. ‘

“Now,” he said to himself, with inward
exultation, “this fortune is mine, and I
can realize the dream of my life! No one
will ever be the wiser.”

(T0 BE CONTINUED.)
“EMBARRASSING GREETINGS.

In the Maldive Isles of the Indian
Ocean, should your first visit to the old
“Sultan of Twelve Thousand Islands” find
him in the middle of a meal (as it probably
will, for he does little else but eat all day
long,) he will show his appreciation of

ou, if you are so fortunate as to please

im, by squeezing up into a ball a hand-
ful of his Soiled rice and thrusting it into
your mouth with fingers that look as if
they had not been washed for a month,
this being the most flattering form of
complimentary welcome which he can
give to any guest. x

An eyen more embarrassing greetin
was offered to a traveler by a Kalmuc
chief with whom he breakfasted on his
way through Central Asia.

Having kindly spread a newly-flayed
sheepskin (raw side uppermost) for him
to sit.down on, he s@t before him a mass
of broth suggestive of that of the witches
in Macbeth, and then, pulling out of his
pouch a large wooden spoon, literally
caked with dirt, he deliberately licked
it clean and handed it to his guest witha
hospitable smile!

———_—_2-e-» —____

FISH-HATCHING in China is sometimes
conducted with the aid of a hen. The
spawn is collected from the water's edge,
and placed in an empty egg-shell. The
legg is then sealed with wax and placed
under a setting hen. After some days
the egg is carefully broken, and the
swarm emptied into water well warmed
by the sun, There the little fish are
nursed until they are strong énough to
turned into a lake or stream, .—

 

+OO)YP NEWSB.

ment, and brought upon him the family

 

2s71

 

| [This Story Will Not Be Published In Book-Form. }

The Young Ranchers

OR,

FIGHTING THE SIOUX.

By EDWARD §S. ELLIS,

Author of “Ransomed,” ‘*Enola,” ‘Boy Pioneer Series,”
“Wyoming. Series,” “Deerfoot Series,” “Log Cabin
Series,” “Among the Esqguimauz,” ete.

(“Tne Youne RaNcHers” commenced in No, 142
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. }

CHAPTER XXII.
ON FOOT.

AHE fugitives were now so close to
~ the ridge that Warren Starr, from
his position on his pony, turned his
attention to their immediate front.

He saw that the race must end, so far
as his steed was concerned, within the
next second. The trees stood close to-
gether, the ascent was steep, and the
bowlders and rocks, plainly discernible,
since all leafage was gone, showed that
the horse must halt of necessity at the
moment of striking the base of the eleva-
tion,

The Sioux had ceased firing. They were
so certain of capturing the youths that
they saved theirammunition. The strug-
gle could not last much longer.

“Be ready to- jump off!” said Warren
to his companion; “Iam going to stop!”

Even as he spoke, he threw Jack on his
haunches with a suddenness that would
have pitched the couple over his head,
had. they not braced themselves. Both
took a flying leap from his back and
dashed for the cover, now directly before
them.

The purpose was still to keep together,
but circumstances beyond their control
prevented. They had no time to form
any plan. Young Starr darted to the
right, aiming for some rocks which he
fancied might afford partial shelter,
Tim had his eye on a somewhat similar
refuge to the left, and made for that.
He would have joined his friend, had he
known his intention, but the seconds
were too precious to allow it, after a few
steps were taken. So he kept on without
once glancing behind him, |

Still there was no firing. The Indians
must have felt more certain than ever of
their prey, thus to-hold their shots.
They emitted several whoops of exulta-
tion, and the foremost bounded from
their ponies and sped after the fugitives
like so many blood-hounds.

But the separation of the latter com-
pelled a division of the former, who, it
will be remembered, were scattered at
varying distances, only a couple being at
the heels of the young ranchers. Thus it
came about that each was pursued by a
single warrior, and through a whim
which cannot be fully understood, the
Sioux next to the leaders turned to the
left on the trail of the young Irishman,
who had thus the honor, if it may be
so considered, of attracting the greater
attention.

For a few moments Warren devoted
his energies to running. He bounded
like a hare over the first bowlder that in-
terposed, swerved slightly to the right,
to pass an obstructing rock, and went
up the slope with the same headlong
speed with which he had dashed from the
level ground to the bottom of the slope.

It was not until he had sped fully a
hundred yards in this furious fashion
that he ventured to throw a glance over
his shoulder. Then he learned that there
was but a single Sioux in sight.

The fugitive had held his own so well
against this miscreant, that the latter
must have felt a quick fear of his escap-
ing him altogether. Young Starr was an
unusually swift sprinter, and it may be
doubted whether the fleet-footed Indian
could have run him down in a fair con-
test. ; :

The fear of losing the ae man caused
the Sioux to check himself abruptly,
bring his gun to a level and let fly. .

An extraordinary accident, or rather
providence, saved the fugitive. At the
verysinstant of his enemy firing, War-
ren’s foot slip
stumbled on his hands and knees. Cer-
tain that his fall was due to the bullet
just sent after him, the Sioux, with a
whoop of triumph, bounded forward over
ay posi and around the rocks to fin-
is m.

Warren eaw, with lightning-like quick-

be his salvation.

ness, that his fall mi
oe into the belief

It had deceived his

that he was either killed or mortally!
| Less fleet of foot than

hurt, and he was, therefore, unprepared
for that which followed.
The youth did not attempt to rise. He

be | had slipped down in such a position that

he was hidden from the sight of his pur-

d in the snow, and he

 

suer. He quickly shifted around so as
to face him, and, rising on one knee, held
his Winchester pointed and ready for use.

He had not long to wait. The Sioux
was so close that the next minute his
head and shoulders appeared above the
rock, as he took his tremendous strides
toward the lad, whom he expected to see
stretched helpless on the snowy earth.

The sight of him kneeling on one knee,
with his rifle aimed, his eye ranging
along the barrel, and his finger on the
trigger, was the first startling apprisal
of the real state of affairs,

The warrior instantly perceived his
fearful mistake, and made a desperate
attempt to dodge to one side, but though
the loon may elude the bullet of the
hunter's rifle, no man has ever yet been
equal to the task. No screeching In-
dian was ever hit more fairly, surprised
more suddenly, or extinguished more
utterly.

And so it came about that in the
twinkling of an eye Warren Starr was
left without a pursuer. Not a solitary
Sioux was in sight.

But he was too wise to think he was
safe. He was simply relieved for the
time being of his harassing foes. They
must have heard the discharge of his rifle,
and some of them would soon investigate
when their comrade failed to return to
them. This would be after a few min-
utes. Naturally they would suppose that
the fugitive had been brought down, and
not until. a brief period had elapsed would
they suspect the truth,

It was this interval which must be
utilized to the utmost, if the youth hoped
to escape. While the snow would reveal
his trail so plainly that it could be fol-
lowed without the least difficulty, yet
his own fleetness ought to enable him to
keep so far in advance of the Sioux that
they could not gain another shot at him,
True he was deprived of his matehless
pony, but the red men were also on foot,
and therefore they stood on equal terms,
with the opening in favor of the fugitive,

Warren would have been full of hope
and resolution, but for Tim Brophy. His
concern for his devoted friend forbade
him turning the situation solely to his
own account. He made a hasty examin-
ation of his rifle, and found nothing the
matter with it. It was ready for use
whenever needed.

Not a solitary warrior was in sight
and the profound stillness which reigned
caused the incidents of the last few
minutes to seem like some wild dream. -—

With that peculiar doubt that some-
times comes over one in such crises,
Warren gently pinched one hand with —
the other. The result convinced him
that everything was real — imagination
had nothing to do with it. -

The reports of his own Winchester
and the Sioux’s rifle were all that had.
broken the stillness since the headlong
leap of the young ranchers from the back
of the pony. There could have been no
other report without its being heard by ©
Warren, who was sorely perplexed over
the fact.

Could it be that equally good fortune
had befallen Tim Brophy? Had he been
able to throw his pursuers off the track
for the time. It seemed impossible that
two such providences should come sim-
ultaneously to the fugitives. The Irish- —
man was by no means as fleet of foot as
Warren, and with the majority of the
pursuers dashing after him, only the
worst result was to be feared.

“Some of them will soon be here,” was
the conclusion of the youth, as he stood
sorely perplexed as to what he should
do; “if I remain, I shall have half a
dozen of them around me, and then it
will be all up; but what about Tim?”

In his chivalrous devotion to his com-
rade, he now began withdrawing from
his dangerous position, but trended to
the right as he faced his enemies, with
the object of getting near Tim, and
with the hope that he might be of help
to him in his desperate strait.

He shuddered -as he glanced down at. es te

the ground and observed the prints he |
made inthe snow. There could be no de-

lay in tracing him, no matter what direc- —
tion he might take. ‘
with his friend, who, despite any ad-
vantage gained at the beginning of his
last flight, could be readily run down, if |
the Sioux preferred thatto “winging” bim
while in full flight. sn

CHAPTER XXIII. —
DOWN.

“ae EANWHILE Tim Brophy found —
| himself in the hottest quarters of —

his life, Reng
OS Inspired by the same des
thought of his friend, he strove, with all

“

7

‘the energy he possessed, to widen the

space between himself and his pursuers,
they, it took but.
a few seconds to show him the hopeless-
ness of the task. ater

None of the trees was large enough to
give protection to his body, but seeing

 

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. that the

: Bs

2372

Gooyp

NEWS.

 

no rocks that could serve him, he dodged
behind the first trunk that presented
itself. This was barely six inches in di-
eed and was no better than nothing at
all.

Pausing but a moment, he leaped away
again, with that wild, aimless impulse
which comes over one when panic-
stricken. The halt, brief though it was,

roved fatal. His pursuer was on his

eels, and the brave youth turned at bay.
As if fate was against him, when he at-
tempted to bring his rifle to a level, he

. made a slip and it dropped from his

He had no time to pick it up.

“S’render! s’render!” called his foe in
good English, waving his right hand
aloft with his gun grasped in it.

“T’ll surrender, ye spalpeen !”

Resorting like a flash to nature’s weap-
ons, the Irishman delivered a blow
straight from the shoulder, which sent
the Sioux spinning backward with his
feet pointing toward the sky.

Had he been the only foe to contend
with Tim might have saved himself, for
the savage was utterly “knocked out,”
and the opportunity to finish him could
not have been better.

Tim had his revolver, but in his excite-
ment he forgot the important fact. He
was about to leap upon his prostrate
enemy, with the intention of snatching
his gun from him and using it, when the
other two Sioux burst to view,

Without waiting for them to assail him

grasp.

the youth dashed forward like a panther | g

at bay.

Before the foremost could elude the

assault, he struck him as fairly as he
had hit the other, and he sprawled on
his back, with the breath driven from
his body.
But the impetus of his blow carried
Tim forward, and, half tripping in his
headlong rush, he fell on his hands and
knees. He strove frantically to save him-
self, but, before he could struggle to his
feet, the other Sioux dealt him a stroke
with the butt of his gun which laid the
fellow helpless on his face.

The skull of the Irishman, however,

was tough, and he quickly recovered,
but not before several other warriors ap-
peared on the scene.
.For one moment the young rancher
meditated a rush upon them, and had
actually doubled his fists for that pur-
pose, but even in his fary he perceived
the folly of such.a course. If he assailed
the Sioux, they would apieely. finish him
then and there, while the fact of their
having spared his life thus far proved
did not intend to put him to
- instant death.

It was with singular emotions that he
recognized among the last arrivals the
Caflisle student Starcus, who had saved
his life the preceding oe by his

» timely shot when the grizzlv bear was
upon him. The presence of the “civil-
ized” youth among the hostiles told its
own story.

“Ye’ve got me foul,” said Tim, lookin
straight at Starcus, as he spoke; “an
now ye may do wid me what ye loikes.”

Starcus, knowing the words and look

were meant for him, made no answer,
but kept in the background.
_ He wasgrimand silent. Who shall say
what thoughts were stirring his heart
at that trying moment? He had sat with
this youth at the table of George Starr
and his family. He had_ partaken of
their hospitality, and had claimed to pos-
sess the civilization which he was anx-
ious his own race should adopt, but here
he was, taking part in the pursuit and
attack of two ycuths who not only had
never done him harm, but had always
acted the part of friends toward him.

There was one curious fact (and yet,
perhaps it was not so curious after all,)
_which was evident to the captured youth,
The Sioux admired the brave fight he had
made for himself. Trained for ages to re-
gard physical prowess as above all vir-
tues, the American race cannot fail to
revere it. even when they are the suffer-

ers therefrom.

The warrior who had first felt the
weight of Tim’s fist now began clamber-
ing to his feet. He was dazed and be-
wildered, for the blow was a terrific one.
Landing squarely in his face, it had
brought considerable crimson, which,
mingling with the daubs of paint already
there, gave him a frightful appearance.

He assumed the upright posture, and
standing uncertainly for a few seconds,

~ fixed his eyes on the prisoner.

Then grasping the situation, and rec-
ognizing him as the individual that had
treated him so harshly, he suddenly
emitted a shout, whipped out his hunting

knife, and rushed at him like a fury.
Tim instantly threw himself into a
ugilistic attitude, and no doubt would
ave given a good account of himself

had he been permitted, for he was skilled
in the art of self-defense, and such a per-.

son always has the advantage over a foe,
no matter what his weapon, provided it
is not a fire-arm.

But the collision did not take place.

e _ Three Indians interposed, restraining the

 

flerce red man, among the foremost being
Starcus, who roughly seized the upraised
arm and forced the warrior back several
steps, using some strong words in his
own language. The savage strove to free
himself, that he might attack the youth,
but he was not permitted, and finally
gave up the effort and withdrew sullenly
in the background.

This incident was hardly over, when
the second warrior that had gone down
before the young Irishman’s prowess also
gained his feet. He looked as if he would
very much like to try conclusions again,
with the aid of one of his weapons, but
he seemed to think he could bide his
time, and have it out on a more fitting
occasion.

The captive was too wise to placea
favorable construction on the interfer-
ence of Starcus, despite the additional
fact of his kindly offices of the morning.
The rest of the Sioux had shown a wis
to take him prisoner, for certainly the
chance to bring him down had been
theirs more thanonce. Actuated by their
intense hatred of the white race, they
looked upon sudden death as too merci-
ful to a foe that had done them so much
ill, He had slain one of their best men
and knocked prostrate two others; no
anger et therefore, was too cruel to

e visited upon him.

While the group stood about the help-
less captive, they talked in their own
language, without Tim being able to
uess the meaning of a word uttered.
He watched the countenances closely,
and was surprised a minute or two later,
by the appearance of the last member of

‘the party. He came straggling up, as

though he felt no concern in the proceed-
ings. That which interested Tim the
most was the sight of his valued Win-
chester in the fellow’s hand. For one
moment the youth thought he meant to
hand it over to him, but that would have
been a stretch of hospitality of which none
of his race could ever be guilty. He did
a rare thing for an Indian—indulged in
agrin of pleasure at the prize which his
companions had passed by to allow it to
fall into his possession.

In his trying situation, Tim Brophy
could not avoid a feeling of curiosity
concerning Starcus. To him the fellow’s
conduct was inexplicable. While his

resence among the Sioux was proof that
1e was “with them” in thought, inten-
tion and feeling, yet there was the
friendly act of the morning during the
struggle with the grizzly, and his late
interference to prevent the warrior from
injuring him, which united to puzzle
the captive. :

As has been said, he was too wise to
build much hope on these facts, but
nevertheless they raised doubts and ques-
tions relating wholly to the future.

Would Starcus continue to hold his
a enmity to the people that had

een friendly to him?

While he had been carried away by the
frenzy that had driven so many of his
people out of their senses, was not an
awakening likely to take place, when
his better nature would resume control?
Could he forget that he had eaten salt
with this hapless fellow, and stand by,
without ee hand or voice, when his
extremity should come, as come it must,
in a very brief while?

But these were questions that Tim
Brophy could not answer: they must be
left for the immediate future.

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE FRIEND IN NEED.

HILE these lively scenes were
taking place, Warren Starr was
not idle. The report of his gun
was plainly heard by the other
Sioux and the captive, but the former
took it for granted that it was fired by
their comrade, and calmly awaited his
return with the news of the death of the

fugitive.

But as the reader has learned the boot
was on the other leg. The youth was un-
harmed, and his enemy was of no further
account.

Actuated by the chivalrous wish to help
Tim, he began cautiously picking his
way along the slope, at a considerable
distance from the base, peering forward
and listening intently for sights and
sounds that could tell him how his com-
panion had fared. g

He had better fortune than he dared
expect. The flickering of something
among the trees warned him that he was
in a delicate position, and his farther
advance was with the utmost care, ac-
companied by glances on every hand, to
guard against walking into a trap.

Very soon he reached a point from which
he saw all that.was going on. Tim was
standing defiantly among the Sioux, who
appeared to be discussing the question
of what to do with him. He _ identified
Starcus, and recognized also the hapless
state of affairs.

Much as he regretted the conclusion,
Warren Starr was forced, in spite of him-

 

 

self, to see that it was out of his power
to raise a finger to help his friend. For
one moment he meditated bringing his
Winchester to his shoulder and opening
fire, but at the best he could not hope to
bring down more than two or three, be-
fore the others would be upon him.
With no possible way of escape open, the
situation of ‘lim would be worse than be-
fore, for one of the first things done by
the Sioux would be to slay him on the
spot, whereas they were now likely to
spare him for a time, and so long as he
had life, so long did hope remain.

Warren would have been as eager to
befriend the brave fellow as the latter
would have been to aid him, but as we
have said, there was no dodging the fact
that it was out of his power. What,
therefore, should he do for himself and
the other loved ones for whom all this
danger had been incurred? a

Where were that father, mother, antl
little sister? They might be in equally
sore distress, and longer delay on his part
perhaps would decide the question of life
or death.

Stealthily withdrawing again, until
well beyond sight of the group, he began
carefully descending the side of the ridge
toward the open prairie. In doing so, he
avoided doubling on his own trail, for at
any moment some of the Sioux were lia-
ble to start out on a tour of investiga-
tion, which would bring them face to
face with him,

With all his senses on the alert, he
threaded his way among the trees and
around the rocks and bowlders, until
he stood on the base of the elevation,
with the broad plain, across which he
and his friend had fled in such desperate
near stretching out before him for many
miles.

But another sight interested him.
Along the foot of the ridge were scattered
nearly a dozen Indian ponies, cropping
as best they could the grass, whose tops
faintly showed above the thin coating of
snow. Their owners had abandoned
them in their haste, without thought of
securing them to any of the limbs, con-
fident that they wowtid: be found within
reach when wanted.

They were tough little animals, with-
out saddle or bridle. The majority had a
bianket roughly secured over the back,
with a thong about the upper part of the
neck, which was all that was needed to
guide them wherever their masters willed.

But there was one animal worth all the
rest, for whom»t*e eyes of the youth

eagerly searched among the group, scat-

tered at varying distances. He would
have given anything for a sight of his own
Jack at that moment,

To his astonishment, he saw nothing of
him. Through some unaccountable cause,
he had vanished as utterly as if he had
never existed.

In the vain hope of discovering him,
Warren glanced from one to the other,
until he had surveyed each one several
times over. But there was no mistake;
Jack was invisible.

The fact caused him keen regret, but it
would not do to tarry, with the certaint
that the Sioux would soon learn the truth
and be after him like a whirlwind. One
or two of their ponies were almost as
fleet as Jack, and Warren was a gocd
enough horseman to ride them as well
as their masters could without saddle.

Fixing his attention on the best looking
animal, which happened, also, to be the
nearest, he moved briskly toward him,
with the purpose of bounding upon his
back and dashing away; but his eae
ness defeated his intention. It fright-
ened the pony, who with a snort threw
up his head, trotted several rods out on
the prairie, and then turned and looked
at him..

The alarm of this animal communi-
cated itself to the others, who also hur-
riedly trotted beyond his reach.

The situation was critical. The action
of the ponies was almost certain to be
heard by their owners a short distance
off, and they would be quickly on the
spot. If they caught sight of the youth
on foot trying to steal one, his position
would be far more hopeless than when
among the rocks and trees.

Seeing his mistake, Warren tried to
right matters by a less abrupt approach,
He dropped to a slow walk, holding out
his -hand and uttering soothing words.
Had he done this at the beginning, he
would have had no trouble in capturing

any horse he desired, but the animals |

identified him as a stranger, and contin-
uedshy. —

The finest, whom he had sought first to
catch, closely watched him as he slowly
approached, but at the very moment the
heart of the youth was beating high with
hope, he swung his head around and
trotted beyond reach, Warren turned his
attention to the one that was nearest,
and by a sudden dash aimed to catch his
halter, one end of which was dangling in
the snow,

As he stooped to grasp the thong, it
was whisked from under his hand, and
he galloped beyond his reach.

The bitter disappointment made War-
ren desperate. He had undertaken an
impossible task. i
more time been at his command, but the
Sioux were liable to appear any minute.

this situation,
rocks,

possibility of eluding the red men.
“What the mischief has

me at once.

thing moving among the trees. It was

until partial shelter was secured.

off all chance of escape.

them. Bending his head, he ran with
might and main. The distance was not
great, but it seemed ten-fold greater than

came near bringing him»to his knees,
filled his heart wit

Brophy,
He heard his

speeding him. Nothing could save him

ridge,
made by t
mapey to halt and look around,
amazement, he recognized his own pony,
Jack, striving hard to keep him company.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
oe eg
LIFE STAKED ON A CARD.

 

younger brother was what is called a

he perpetrated in a half drunken freak
was taken as an insult by the whole body

sued, and young De Flotow agreed to
meet any single antagonist selected by
lot. This, as it happened, turned out to
be a certain Count Z-—-—, one of the depu-

ceived an emphatic answer in the affiirm-
ative.

as little value to life as Ido we will fight

life against yours in a game of ecarte of
‘five points; the loser to blow out his
brains in twenty-four hours,”

The proposition was agreed to, cards
were brought, and the two men com-
menced their terrible game. The score
stood at four points on each side when
Count Z—-- turned the king.

“You have won, sir,” said young De
Flotow, rising. “I will pay before noon

to-morrow.”

Next day he slept till eleven.
breakfast he took a turn in the park, and
was observed by his valet gazing for
some minutes at the facade of the ances-
tral mansion, after which he hid his face
in his hands for a moment, as if weep-
ing. He then pulled out his watch; it
wanted five minutes of noon. M. De Flo-
es, his study. At twelve pre-
cise
window-panes. He had punctually killed
himself,

bee a a

A MOVING CITY.

 

America may safely claim to possess the

geographical position as years rol] on,
The City of Virginia, Nevada,

spot on which it now stands, and is im-

tion of Gold Canon.

meets the solid rock.
side,

if the ruins of the town were still in ex-
istence they would be discoyered three or
four miles to the east of the spot where it

 

now flourishes.

He might succeed, nad *

It would.not do for him to be caught in ©
He must abandon the at- ©
tempt and . et back among the trees and ©
where there remained the bare ©

become of —
Jack?” he muttered, facing about and —
breaking into a lope for the ridge; “if ©
he were only in sight he would come to ©
Hello! just what I feared!” —
At that juncture he detected some- |

 

not clearly seen, but not doubting that —
the Sioux were coming, he broke into a —
run for cover, not daring to risk a shot |

In his affright, he did not dare glance
to the left even, and held his breath in ~
thrilling expectancy, certain that with ©
every leap he took he would be greeted ©
by a volley, or that the Sioux would —
throw themselves across his track to shut ~

   

That they did not do so was not only ©
unaccountable to him, but gave him the —
hope that possibly he might still elude ©

it was, and a slip of the foot which —

] } despair and made ~
him certain that he would soon join Tim

yursuers at his heels. —
Despite his own fleetness, they were out- |

from being overtaken before reaching the >

ere, a peculiarity in the sound
ose at his rear caused him ab- |

hen, to his unbounded delight and 1

The celebrated composer De Flotow’s ©
wild” fellow, and a practical joke which |

of the Mecklenburg. deputies, of which he ©
himself was one. A dozen challenges en- ©

ties who resented the offense most keenly. —
De Flotow asked him if he thought a -
stupid joke worth fighting about, and re- —

“Be it so,” he said; “and if you attach ~

in the American fashion—I staking my 3

After ©

the report of a pistol shook the —

only city in the world that changes its —

in the
year 1875, was nearly three feet from the ©

perceptibly slipping along in the direc- —

The movement is so gradual that it does
not in the least affect the stability of the |
buildings, for the ground is practically ©
solid fora hundred feet down, where it —

This thick layer of earth is known asa _
slide, which is caused by the constant. -
crumbling of the rock on the mountain —

It is calculated that in a hundred —
thousand years the site of the present ©
City of Virginia will he solid rock, and ~

 

 

 
 
    
    
   
 
  
     
   
   
    
     
    
   
    
    
    
    
   
   
   
   
   
    
    
     
          
       
     
    
   
   
    
    
   
   
   
   
    
     
    
     
        
         
     
     
      
     
   
    
    
    
      
       
        
        
     
    
    
     

 

     
    
     
     
      
        
      
      
   
   
    
    
   
   
   
    
     
       
    
    
    
   
    
     
  
 
   
      
    
    
    
   
     
    
    
 

 

: War-
eh an §
d, had @&
ut the ©

inute.
echt in
he at-
-$§ and
- bare

ne of
5 and
e; “if
me to

red !” @

some-
/ was

that
into a
1 shot

lance
ith in
with
eeted
vould
shut

-only
» the
elude
with
- not
than
‘hich
neces,
nade
Tim

eels,
out-
him
x the

bund
1 ab-

and
ony,
any.

0n

for
es-
ace
ep-

lo-
re-
he
led

a Ni al a5 =

- unladylike occupation for a girl in so

  

-and did a bolt.’

GOooDp

NEWS.

 

2373

 

(This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. }

MAT MERRIMAN, THE MESMERIST;

FUN AT REDDING SCHOOL.

By HARVEY HICKS.

 

(“MAT MERRIMAN,” was commenced in No. 130. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

 

CHAPTER XLIII.

DENOUNCED BY THE BAKER.

A\HE next morning Mat went through
a little catechism with Mr. Whal-
ley, preparatory to going to the po-
lice court, for upon this case the
e€x-teacher coutended that a vast amount
of their future was concerned. :

He begged of our hero to be particu-
larly guarded in his replies, and to affect
the “innocent” as much as possible.

Still, he was very anxious, and de-
termined to be in court himself, hoping
that his presence would be of some sup-
Port to the boy.

As the hour of departure drew near,
Mat did not relish the ordeal before him,
fearful lest his disguise might be pen-
ae in the event of which all would

e€ 10st.

However, he braced his nerves together,
and, accompanied by Bob Blunt, started
for Redding police court, being followed
Shortly afterward by Mr. Whalley.

_He was evidently an object of much cu-
riosity, for a number of people gathered
about his heels immediately the main
Street was gained.

“A day of special excitement, appar-
ently,” he remarked. ,

“Yes,” Bob replied; “a few of the riot-
ers have to be brought up to-day. I hopes
as Our case will be ended experdisiously,
which means quick.”

“I hope so, too,” Mat fervently re-
sponded.

They found a vast concourse of people
Rathered round the police court, and
Some fifty policemen parading about,
who had been drafted from other towns,
in the event of the disturbances being
renewed, ;

As it threatened to be a very import-
ant day, no less than four magistrates
Were on the bench, among whom Mat
quickly recognized his old enemy, Colo-
nel Sothern.

The very sight of him caused the veil of
“Molly Wiggins” to be drawn very closely
Over her face.

The preliminaries of the court we will
pass over, ere all was ready for the dis-
tribution of “justice;” but it was crowded
With people, and “Molly Wiggins” was
evidently the center of attraction.

The whole of the six policemen, who
had been driven before the rioters, were
present behind the dock, the appearance
of whom gave rise to many unpleasant
remarks, accompanied by groans, which
were only stopped by a_ threat that if re-
peated the court should be cleared.

The case of “Molly Wiggins” was the
first on the list, and soon Mat Merriman
stood in the box, being ogled by the
crowd and the magistrates.

The charge having been read, the pre-
seh magistrate, Colonel Sothern, cried:

“What is your name?”

“Molly Wiggins, sir.” :

“Are you employed in the capacity of
housemaid by Mr. Whalley?” ,

“Yes, your honor.” ;

ery good. Now, the charge against

ou is a very serious one, the du—ahem!

Our are charged with being disorderly,
and fighting in the streets, to the dan-
ger and annoyance of the public. This
appears to me to be a du—I mean a very

 
 

Tespectable a situation.”
“Yes, your honor.” <
“What have you tosaytothis?”
“A big boy started on me first,” whim-
Pered Molly, “an’, your honor, I punched
is nose, an’, your honor, the police
wanted to lock me up.”
Laughter and apres in court,
Magistrate: “And very properly, too,
I should say, by—— Ahem! Well, go
on.”

Molly (sobbing): “He wanted to lock
me up, your honor, so I didn’t like it,

Magistrate: “Dida what?”
olly: “A bolt, your honor.’

Magistrate: “And what the d--— I
mean, what is that, pray?” ;

Molly: “I sneaked, your honor."

Magistrate: “Oh, I suppose you mean
that you ran away?”

Molly: “Yes, your honor.” :

he strate: “And what did the police-
man do then?” Z
Molly: “He called a lot of pals——

 

. Magistrate: “What do you mean by
Pals?’”

Molly: “Blokes in the same line of
business, your honor.”

Loud laughter in court.

Magistrate: “You mean he called the
assistance of other officers?”

Molly: “Yes, your honor.”

Magistrate: “And what followed next?”

Molly: “The cops.”

Magistrate: “What the du——I mean,
what do you mean?”

Molly: “The cops followed me, your
honor. Six of ’emn run me all up the
street”—and here Molly burst into a fit
of sobbing underneath her veil—“and
catched.me, and I didn’t want to go,”

Commotion in court, followed by the
evidence of the officers.

Magistrate: “I don’t see that we can
sustain any charge against this young
person, but I must investigate the alleged
cruelty torwad her by the police. This
is a most serious matter, and 1 am deter-

 

believe you are trifling with the court.
I must request you to remove.that veil so

that I may see your face. Take it off
please.”
Molly: “I can’t, sir.”

Magistrate: “And why?”

Molly: “’Cos mother said I musn’t,
as you might kiss me, your honor.”

Great laughter in court.

Magistrate: “I can’tstand this kind of
thing—the duse. Look here now, I in-
sist——”

Another magistrate, interposing: “One
of the officers had better remove the veil.
This court is not for the rehearsal of a
comedy. The minx is laughing at the
bench.”

And obeying his signal, an officer
promptly stepped forward, and snatched
away our hero's veil, revaling to the court
the downcast and demure countenance
of “Molly.”

This excited peals of laughter; but as
Mat raised his eyes he saw something
which caused him to turn cold from head
to toe.

In the body of the court was Slugger
Simpson, talking excitedly to the baker,
and like an inspiration came to our hero
the real state of affairs.

He glanced helplessly around for a
moment, and encountered the troubled
gaze of Mr. Whalley.

What should he do?

Could he escape?

No, the idea was absurd.

He saw the baker pushing his way
forward—Simpson urging him on—and
knew that he was about to be denounced.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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“THAT GAL, YOUR HONOR,” PERSISTED THE BAKER, FRANTICALLY, “IS A BOY.
HER IS A "IM, YOUR HONOR, AN’ NOT A GAL!”

mined to perform my duties as a magis-
trate in the interests of all.”

Applause incourt. Molly still weeping.

Magistrate: “The police chased you?”

Molly: “Yes, your honor.”

Magistrate: “And caught you?”

Moliy: “Yes, your honor.”
tears.)

Magistrate: “And what then?”

Molly: “They tried to take me up, and
couldn’t.”

Applause in court.

Magistrate: “They couldn’t take you
up? What do you mean by that?”

Molly: “The crowd took me off them
again, your honor.”

Magistrate (flushing): “The du—I
mean, be careful what you are saying.
The crowd rescued you?”

Molly: “Yes, your honor.”

Magistrate: “Now, speak truthfully,
and don’t shield any one. Did the offi-
cers who tried to take you up, ill-treat
you—that is, unduly knock you about be-
yond what was necessary in the perform-
ance of their duty?”

Molly: “No, your honor,
very kind ’cos they let me go.’

Applause, roars of laughter, and dis-
turbance in court.

Magistrate: “Let you go?”

Molly: “Yes, your honor.”

Magistrate (rather red in the face):
“Come, now, I am determined to get at
the bottom of this. Thecharge you make
against the police is a serious one. You
say that they let you go, after taking you
in charge? Why was this?”

(Extra

, They was

Molly: “Cos I was so good lookin’,
your majesty.”

Applause, roars of laughter, and a
voice:

“Take your veil off, girl.”
Magistrate: “Don’t ‘majesty’ me, I

Yes, he felt sure of it; but better any-
ae than that. It would be the ruin of
a

Here the voice of the magistrate star-
tled him, and with a sudden resolve he
determined to have recourse to his mes-
meric powers.

“What do you say, your honor?” he
asked, boldly fixing his eyes upon the
stern ones of Colonel Sothern.

Magistrate: “Come, this is wasting the
time. of the court. Unless I am mis-
taken, I shall have to send you for trial.
Don’t look at me like that you——. Ha!
I have seen those eyes—that face before—-
the duse! It is—it is——” And then he
paused, and passed his hands confusedly
over his face, adding: “Yes, it is an old
friend of mine, by Jove!”

Poor Colonel Sothern was once more
masmerized.

“An old friend!” asked a brother mag-
istrate, “What do you mean?”

“If you please, your honor, I knows
that girl!” shouted the baker, struggling
forward.

“Silence in court,” cried the magistrate.

“That gal, your honor,” persisted the
baker, frantically, “is a boy. Her is a
him, your honor, an’ not a gal. Her is
that boy, as——”

“Silence,” shouted the magistrate, “or
I will commit you.”

“But her’s——” the baker screamed,
and then he fell backward under the
weight of a heavy book that Mat had
snatched off the magistrate’s desk, gasp-
ing and spluttering.

wo officers sprang upon Mat, but Col-
onel Sothern ordered his immediate dis-
charge, and that the almost insensible
baker was to be forthwith removed in
custody, which resulted in tremendous

 

cheering in court.

 

Colonel Sothern’s brother magistrates
rose in astonishment; and during the al-
tercation that ensued, and while the po-
lice hauled off the partially insensible
baker, Mat stepped briskly to the street.

Outside he encountered Simpson, who
had withdrawn to await the result 0f his
machinations, and was not a little sur-
prised to see his supposed victim come
forth free.

Mat could not resist giving him a
sound box upon the ear.

At this instant his
grasped by Mr. Whalley.

“Come,” he said, “jump into a cab,
That cur willraise the hue and cry im-
mediately, but Iam prepared. Here we
are. Now, then jump in!”

As he spoke, a vehicle dashed up,
which Bob Blunt had ordered; and just
as the crowd had _ surged out of the court
in search of its heroine, Molly and Mr.
Whalley drove off.

“Merriman!—the mesmerist!" was the
cry. “A hunderd dollars reward! After
him! After him!

shoulder was

 

CHAPTER XLIV,
MR. WHALLEY AND MAT ESCAPE,

(=
ASH up your horse!” shouted Mr.
¢| e Whalley to the cabman. “Three
hundred dollars if you escape this

G-”. mob! Go ahead—anywhere—until
I tell you to stop!”

The cabman, to whom Mr. Whalley
was. well known, needed no further as-
surance regarding his fare, and away the
horse went at a furious gallop,

Busy thoroughfares were carefully
avoided, nor did the cabman relax his
efforts until a good six miles had been
put between them and the town of Red-

ing.

Mr. Whalley signaled for him to stop,
and he and Mat jumped out.

“Good,” the former said; “this is the
best morning’s work you have ever done,
cabby, and in’ addition to the three hun-
dred dollars which I will now give you,
I want you to absent yourself from Red-
ding for a couple of days, else the police
will force you to disclose the direction
in which aa have driven us. Go away,
cab and all, and I will pay every expense
that may be incurred.”

“Yés, sir.”

“You are agreeable?”

“Quite, sir. I shall drive to Binghamp-
ton, a town thirty miles farther on, to see
my old people. I can afford to do it now,
sir,” the cabman grinned. “I will stay
away a week if you like. If they follow
me, it will only put ’em on the wrong
scent. I heard that this girl was Mat
Merriman that the reward is out for.”

“Capital idea,” Mr. Whalley returned.
“Here is another fifty-dollar note. Now
keep your own counsel, andl shall not

pt you in the future,”

The man touched his hat delightedly,
jumped onto his box and droveaway,

As soon as he was out of sight Mr.
aoe struck over some fields with
Mat following him closely,

“Where do you propose going?” asked
our hero.

“To Judge Bloodgood’s.”

Mat flushed.

“TI dare not go home again, as the house
is, no doubt, in the possession of the po-
lice. We will go to the judge's, change
your disguise, and then you can Visit
your friends peer to our departure
from America. Meanwhile I will get all
in readiness. I dare not again show my
face at Redding, so Bob is doing what is
necessary there. The day after to-morrow
I will let you know where to join me.
This is awful trouble that we are in, my

oy.

“And all through me,” groaned Mat.
“But I can’t help it. You see Simpson
was determined to betray me.”

“Never mind that now. What we have
to do is to escape.”

It took them fully an hour to reach the
judge’s house, as they had to take the
most unfrequented ways.

Of course the judge had heard all about
Mat’s troubles; still he could not help
laughing over tis queer disguise,

“We must not trespass on your gen-
erosity many hours,” Mr. Whalley said,
after describing the adventures of the
day; “but T want a new disguise for Mer-
riman, as he must run down to Somer-
ville to see his parents, for we start for
Africa in a day or two,”

“Your pet object!” laughed the judge.
“Well, I think Ican oblige you. Come
along,” and he led them to a room, the
wardrobe of which contained a variety of
dresses for private theatricals.

Mr. Whatley speedily chose the make-
up of an old man, slightly hump-backed—
wig, beard, spectacles, and all complete—
the hump being stitched in the lining of
a Jong black coat.

Having tossed aside his housemaid
dress, Mat put on these, and the effect
was positively startling, for the disguise
was perfect.

A hasty meal was disposed of, and after
leaving a message for Miss Violet, who

 

  
m7 4

GOOD NEWS.

 

was at school, our hero was driven
distant railway station by the judge’s
coachman.

“Mat,” Mr. Whalley said upon parting
with him, “I beseech you, for your own
sake and mine, to be careful. You see in
what position we are placed—we havo

reached the extreme at last, and it wiil |

only be by the greatest of good fortune if
Wwe are permitted to escape. I shall know
no peace until my arrangements are com-
plete, and you are with me again. Now,
off with you, and good-by. Remember,
upon you depends all.”

* Mat promised, in all seriousness, that
no more indiscretions on his part would
be heard of.

Very little had passed beyond what we
have detailed, for Mr. Whalley was anx-
ious and troubled.

Mat had such perfect confidence in his
new disguise that he walked up
down the platform in perfect ease until
the train was ready to start,

Nevertheless, he took the precaution of
buying a ticket to a station midway be-
tween Redding and Somerville, where he
alighted, and walked to another station
two miles farther on. From this one he
bought a ticket to his destination.

Arrived at Somerville, he walked
through the familiar streets of the little
town, meeting with many people by
whom he was both known and feared; but
the queer-looking old man they saw looked
more like a peddler in cheap jewelry than
malicious Mat Merriman.

He walked direct to the farm, passed
through the familiar old gate-way, where
few ventured, for at the end of the path
which led round to the back of the house
were a couple of fierce dogs chained,
therefore it was the rule for visitors to
knock at the front door.

1
At sight of him the dogs barked and

tore furiously at the chains which held
them; but still the old man kept on until
within a couple of feet of them, and then
he spoke.

The dogs sniffed at his clothing, then
fawned delightedly at his feet.

This proceeding mystified one of the
servant girls to such an extent (for she
had just come to the door tosee why the
dogs were barking) that she rushed into
the house again with a shriek.

Mat followed closely at her heels, direct
to the sitting-room, where his parents
were seated, and paused in the door- way,
while the servant announced him.
_ “Well, sir,” cried Farmer Merriman,

“what doyouwant? Allow me to inform
you that this is not a house where stran-
gers are made welcome in every room, }
nor have a any business to interfere

with my dogs. What is it you want,
please?”

“Something private and important,”
Mat replied, muffling his voice, and

speaking indistinctly through the respir-
ator he had been provided with for the,

purpose of hiding his youthful mouth
~ and chin.
“Oh!” ejaculated the farmer, curiously;

and then suddenls thinking of Mat, and

- the trouble he was in, he commanded
-' the grinning servant girl to leave the
room and close the door behind her.
“Oh! sir,” said Mrs. Merriman, “is it
about our poor boy? I know it is.”
- “Tt is,” said the old man.
“And pray, are you a detective?” asked
the farmer. “If so, let me tell you that
I know oe of the whereabouts of
: } t is useless your coming

”

here,”

“T know something,” said the old man. .

“Indeed, I know where he is!”
“Where?” shouted the farmer and his

_wife together.
ius SLOFO}”

Farmer Merriman jumped toward the
- door, but the old man seized his coat-
- tails; and inthe struggle Mat’s wig and
beard tumbled on the floor, followed by
_his spectacles and respirator.

In a moment both father and mother
were embracing their troublesome boy.
“Oh! I shall be killed between you,”
groaned Mat. “Let me take off my long

coat, or you will spoil my hump.”

_ The exclamations, congratulations,
future movements, and natural lamen-
_ tations, we must pass over.
~ “J do not suppose I shall be able to
remain many hours with you,” Mat.told
his parents, “but I have a good protector
in the person of Mr. Whalley, who pro-
poses that we travel for a few months
until this little trouble has blown over.”
_ “Oh, my poor boy,” moaned Mrs. Mer-
-riman, “see what this mesmerism has
Regent you to, at last.” i
_ “wWeneed be thankful that he is safe,
_my dear,” her husband said. “From what
Doctor Sage told me of this Mr. Whal-
Jey, I think Mat will be all right, and
aon little travel will vastly improve

“In the meanwhile,” our hero remarked,
“T had better keep up my disguise, as we
do not know who ma
forme. I donot think the servants sus-
pect anything, and I can remain in the

2 eee, a visitor, until I hear from

vo a

| hero’s parents, and then
and |

be on the lookout

 

This. being deemed advisable, Mat
donned his spectacles and wig, and when
a servant was within ear-shot, spoke in
the tremulous voice he had at first
adopted.

After supper, however, urgent as he
knew things were, he was surprised by a
cab driving to the farm, which deposited
Mr, Whalley, who was speedily rapping
for admittance.

The ex-school-teacher was introduced
to the farmer and his wife and then rap-
idly informed them that Mat would be
compelled to accompany him at day-
break on the following morning, as he

|feared the police had gained scent of

their movements,

Several] hours were spent in arranging
matters; Mr. Whalley went minutely
into affairs for the satisfaction of our
the four retired
to their couches for a little rest.

Before any of the farm servants were
about they were up again, and partook of
a breakfast prepared by the hands of
Mrs. Merriman,

A tearful farewell followed—hugging,
blessing, ete., etc.—and then the little
old man, in company with Mr. Whalley,
started away.

Mat’s heart, for some time, was too
full for speech. He continued waving
his handkerchief to his parents until a
bend of the road hid them from his view,
and then walked sharply by the side of
his kind and faithful friend in silence.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
——_—_-—_- + e--e—-__—__

TALES OF THE TRACK.

No. 6.

—_ ¢ ———

BY MARO O. ROLFE.

—— + +

THE ENGINEER’S STORY,

NE autumn afternoon we happened
to be a little late, and we steamed
into Melville, the end of our run,
at a very lively rate. There were
fifty or more on the platform, awaiting
the arrival of the train, and among
them, more lovely thanany other woman
there, was Belle Reighton.

I didn’t even so much as know her
name then, never having seen her before,
and it was just by accident, so to speak,
that I saw her then. She stood at one end
of the long platform, just in the shadow
of the big sign over the window of the
express oflice.

She just started a little as the whistle
screamed out close by where she stood,
and that was what drew my attention to
her at first.

‘The brakes were all on, and we were
stopping as short as we could, but there
were two baggage-cars and half a dozen
well-filled coaches behind, and they
crowded us pretty hard; and it was evi-
dent we would run arod or two beyond
our usual stopping-place.

When I saw Belle start, we were not
quite even with the point where she was
standing—maybe eighteen or twenty feet
away. Her foot struck against the wheel
of a truck close by; and she staggered
headlong right. toward the track. Only
two or three steps, and she would go over
the edge of the platform, and the engine
was rushing along to crush her as soon a3
she fell. I felt cold all at once,

No one was very near her—not near
enough to grasp her and drag her back
from the sudden, terrible death that
threatened her. In a moment she would
totter over on the rails below, and in a
moment my engine would be there, too,

Impelled by a sudden impulse, I
crawled along the side of the boiler, past
the whistle, past the bell, clear to the
front of the engine, and leaped to the

latform right against her as we came on.

saw the fireman stare, and his face
actually looked pale through the coal-
dust and smoke.

I saved her! ad

But the force with which I had sprung
from the engine threw me across the
sharp iron rest at the bottom of the bag-
gage-truck, and before any one got to me
I had fainted clean away, and I had little
more life than a dead man.

When I came to myself again they had
laid me on a sofa in the ladies’ room, and
they were all talking at once so fast that
Icouldn’t understand much of anything
any of them said except two—the doctor
and the girl I had saved.

“He’s coming out of his faint,” said the
doctor. “Two of his ribs are broken, but
I do not think he’s seriously injured.”

“That’s bad enough,” said a voice—a
tender, pitying, woman’s voice, all in a
tremble, and which I knew instinctively
was her voice. “But thank Heaven it
isn’t any worse.”

Then all was stilla moment. The doc-
tor kept digging and feeling around my
ribs in a way that made me imagine he
was trying to bore through me witha
very dull auger. IT hadn’t opened my eyes

OY

yet, and I shut them tighter and bit my

 

lip hard to keep from crying out with the
pain.

“One of them is fractured
places,” said the doctor.

“He saved me, but he nearly lost his
own life in doing it,” said her voice
again. “What an awful death it would
have been! I want to do something for
him, doctor.”

“You can do nothing now,” was the re-
ply. “We must manage to get him home
as soon as he is fully himself again.”

While he was speaking I just raised my
eyelids and tock a good look at the girl.
Her eyes fell as she saw I was looking at
her, and the warm blood reddened the
face that had been almost as pale as my
own—and it was decidedly the prettiest
face I had ever seen, Then she opened her
big brown eyes, so bright through her
tears, and said, sweetly and earnestly:

“You are a hero!”

I thought I would willingly have two
more ribs broken to hear her say those
four words again.

After a while they took me home. Belle
found out where we lived, and ran ahead
to prepare my old mother to see me
brought in on a stretcher. She wouldn’t
go away till she had helped mother to
make me easy, and extorted a promise
from us that she might come and do her
part toward nursing me back to health
and strength.

She came every day to see me, and—
well, by the time I was able to sit up she
had promised to marry me the next
Christmas. I’m not going to tell you just
how it all came about. A man doesn’t
like to go into details with such a matter,
you know.

As soon asI was able to hobble about
town her visits to our house ceased; but
you may rest assured that I lost no op-
portunity to return some of those she had
already made, and nearly every morning
found me a welcome ane happy guest in
her neat little parlor.

While visiting Belle one evening I first
met Santa Eido. He was Spanish. His
fierce, quick-moving black eyes, his dark,
almost swarthy face, his every move and
gesture, and his speech and genera] bear-
ing, all told of the land of his nativity—
and were, at the same time, equally ex-
pressive of his passionate and impetuous
temperament. et, taken all in all, he
was good-looking; that is, in his dark,
peculiar way. But there was nothing
about him that would attract my admira-
tion or command my respect. On the con-
trary, he repelled me, and I did not won-
der that Belle thought him a bad man,
for she had spoken of him to me many
times, telling me of his repeated dis-
agreeable visits to her, and of his desire
that she would become his wife. So earn-
estly and vehemently did he press his
suit that at last she had resolved to tell
him of our betrothal, and request that his
visits should be discontinued; and
thought the quicker this was done the
better it would be for all concerned. So
when I was unobserved by the Spaniard I
managed to whisper:

“Tell him now.”

And in her own sweet, womanly way,
quietly, and with kindly spoken words of
ee at his disappointment, she told him
al]. I saw long before she had _ finished
that Santa Eido's Spanish blood was up.
His dark eyes tok on a Steely glitter;
his wide, bad mouth twitche con-
vulsively; his tall, lithe form trembled
under the influence of his powerful emo-
tion; and everything told that he was in
such a towering passion as only one like
him could have in his wayward heart.

“I'm going,” he said, springing to his
feet precipitately. “But I warn you that

ou will yet have cause to regret that you
ange toyed with the heart of Santa Kido.”

And before either of us could say a word
he was gone; but I didn’t forget the sav-
age look and the beast-like snar] for a
month.

One. day some little time afterward
Belle showed me a note, of which this is
a copy:

“MISs BELLE :—I want to beg yor pardon,
and that of your betrothed hushand, for my
ungentlemanly deportment on the oceasion of
my last call at your house. I can plead no ex-
cuse except that I was deeply wounded at
your summary rejection of me. Thinking of
you in the way T did, and being naturally very
passionate, it does not appear strange at all to
me that I should have exhibited my chagrin
and mortification in a manner that seemed un-
called for and rude to you. T beg that you will
forgive me, now that I am going far away, and
allow me to call to-morrow and receive from
your own lips, and those of my fortunate rival,
the assurance that, when you shall know meno
more forever, you will not think too severely of
“Yours sincerely, SANTA Epo.”

“What shall I do, Carl?” asked Belle
as I finished reading the note and handed
it back to her. :

At first I did not say anything, from
sheer surprise. It seemed strange that a
man like the Spaniard should wish to
apologize for anything of the kind. It
struck me as being unnatural for one of
his temperament, and certainly on my
pest it was entirely unlooked for. So

ought it all over carefully, * I watched

in two

’

és

a a Cas Sa

T| umbrella, and with his fan he

 

her slowly fold the paper and put it in its
envelope. But aside from the surprise I
feit I could see nothing to cause me to
suspect that he was not, as he had signed
himself, sincere, So I said after a time:

“He acknowledges that he has done
wrong. He wants to make amends, and
it would be hardly fair for us to deny
him the privilege, especially as he is
going away so soon, and will probably
never bother you again.”

That night I dreamed of my sweetheart
happy dreams, and no marring vision of
Santa Eido came to dispel my peace or
disturb my slumbérs. The next day wore
away quickly, as all days do to one act-
ively employed, and before Il was aware
of it we had almost completed the return
run, and were rattling along toward Mel-
ville ata rushing rate. The sun was just
dipping out of sight behind the seared
hills away to the left, and the chilly
autumn wind whistled by my ears, as I
leaned out of the cab, in a way that re-
minded me that winter was coming. But
I didn’t mind it, for I was used to expos-
ure. As usual, I kept a keen lookout
ahead. An engineer can’t be teo careful,
you know, when he realizes that a bit of
recklessness may endanger hundreds of
lives as dear as his own.

But there I was, thinking of the people
in the coaches behind, when before me a
life was in danger which was worth more
to me than the whole world beside. I did
not know it then, but I saw it a moment
later, and it almost froze the blood in my
veins.

As we rounded a sharp curve through a
deep cut not half a mile from the station
I saw not twenty rods before us a woman
lying prostrate across one of the rails and
a little nearer a man standing on the ties
right in the middle of the track.

As we came yet nearer I saw that the
woman was tied there, and that the man
was my Spanish rival, Santa Hido!

Great Heaven! I dared not ask myself

who was the woman! I dared not think
her name!
. Reeling, half sen ung from my intense
excitement, 1 whistled “down brakes,”
seized the lever, and throwing myself
upon if as amaniac hurls himself against
his prison walls, I reversed the engine.

We were running fast, and couldn’t stop
quickly. The loaded train pressed us on, |
the driving-wheels sliding and shrieking
on the rails. I shivered and shook like
one in an ague fit when I thought that ~
nothing could hold.us back. am

How my heart shrank within me when
I realized that the Spaniard was being
ground beneath the wheels,

Then I shut my eyes,

The next thing I knew we had Boner
—stopped with the cow-catcher within
three feet of my bound and insensible
darling.

But she was saved,

It was six weeks before she was herself

again, but long before that time had
elapsed I knew of the horrid treachery of
Santa Kido.
He had called upon Belle, and persua-
ded her to take a walk with him for the
purpose of meeting me on my arrival at
the station, and while crossing the
tracks, he had suddenly seized her and
bound her to the rails. Then he had
placed himself between his victim and
the oncoming train, determined, no
doubt, that Belle and himself should die
together. ;
Sometimes I think he was a maniac.

JAPANESE AND THEIR FANS.

Several millions of fans-are exported
annually from Japan to America and
Europe. The fan is an inseparable part
of the Japanese dress. A native is rarely
seen without one. It is his she]ter from
the sun, his note-book, and his pe ee
The varieties of these paper fans would
form a curious collection in respect to
form as wel] as quality.

There are many curious uses for them.
The umpire at wrestling and fencing —
matches uses a heavy one shaped like a
huge butterfly, the handle being the body, ©
and rendered imposing by heavy cords ofe
silk. The various motions of the fan con- |
stitute a language which the wrestlers
fully understand and appreciate. if

Formerly, in time of war, the Japanees
commander used a large fan having a
frame of iron covered with thick paper. |
In case of danger it could be closed, and.
a blow from its iron bones was no light
affair, Mee é

One notable variety of fan is made of
waterproof pene which can be dipped in
water, and creates great coolness by
evaporation without wetting the clothes. —
The flat fan made of rough paper is often —
used as a grain winnow, to blow the
charcoal fires, and as a dust pan, 2

The J os gentleman of the old
school, who never wears a hat, uses a fan
to shield his eyes from the sun, His head,
bare from childhood, hardly needs a
shade, and when it does he spreads an

irects his
servants, and savestalking, |

 
Ole

Bee Mer

a

crOUNs \&

Se

na =—

we ee ree ee Oe

Goop

NEWS.

2375

 

_ BURNED AT THE STAKE;

OR
THE SETTLER'S VENGEANCE.

wanton >

BY ARTHUR L. MESERVE,

-— +

HE early settlers of that part of

New Hampshire lying around Do-

ver, passed through many a tryiag
ordeal before they secured their
homes from the grasp of the red men,
ho looked upon them as their natural
enemies, and whom, they thought, it
Was their duty as well as their interest
drive from the foothold they had
ained upon the banks of the Cocheco.
his hate was intensified by the ill-usage
of the whites, a portion of whom seemed
to be of the opinion that the savages had
ho rights that they were bound to re-
Spect, and acting upon this principle,
Cheated them in every possible manner.
These feelings on both sides produced
8 natural consequences, and one settler
after another fell beneath the tomahawk
nd scalping-knife, until the great out-
break occurred which resulted in the de-
struction of most of the settlement, in-
Cluding the capture of the garrison, and
he death of Major Waldron, all of which
is too well known to need repeating here,
The events that we are about to relate
poured a year prior to this disastrous

time, and we will at once proceed to the

Rarration of the story, which, although it
1id not possess importance enough to be
Tecorded in history, has been handed
down through successive generations, and
to this day the story is told, and the place
Pointed out by the descendants of those
© took part in the affray.
ichard Hayes was the first man _ to
leave the settlement at Dover, and follow
the course of the river some ten miles,
and there build his cabin in the heart of
the forest, cutting himself loose, as it
ere, from all connection with the whites
far as protection was concerned, as
Y were too far removed to be of any
enefit in case he should be attacked by
he Indians.
nh vain his friends had tried to dis-
lade him from this rash movement. His
Only answer was that he did not fear
the Indians; he had never harmed them,
nd until he did, he had no fear of their
‘olesting him: The spot he had selected
Suited him better than any he could ob-
ta N nearer the settlement; so, despite

al Warning, he made a clearing on the

ks of the river, built him a comforta-
cabin, and, with his wife and child,

OOK possession of it, and sojourned for
Upy ard of a year in peace and quietness,
ating the Indians, who often came
‘ere, with the utmost kindness, and he
Delieved himself located in as safe a posi-
40n as though they were living within a
ne’s throw of the garrison. But a
ae awakening came at last, though too
iate, The thunderbolt had fallen when
he sky was without a cloud, and the
Piness of the pioneer was gone for-

, One morning late in October he had
ken his rifle, and bidding his wife
90d-by, went to the settlement, with the
tention of returning a little past noon,
ut that time had long gone by before he

out on his return, accompanied by

‘© friends whom he had prevailed upon

0 attend him home and go hunting with
‘tim the next day. They could not leave
Soon as he had wished, so he. waited

or them, knowing, however, that his

€ would be anxiously expecting his re-

Oe
With merry jest and lively conversation
Y took their way up the river, which,
either side, was overhung by dark for-
rees, so dense in some places that
Water could hardly be seen a few feet
mthe bank, Now and then a water
wi, startled from its fancied security,
ld spread its oor to seek safety in
ght, but was brought down by the un-
‘Ting rifle of the settlers, who, by the
‘me they were in the neighborhood of
2 cabin, had secured game enough for
tir supper ‘and breakfast, which they
ew could be “done to a turn” by Mrs.

ou smell smoke, boys?” ex-
ck Hayes, as he was familiarly
d by his companions, stopping and
ing the air when they had ap-
ched to within three-quarters of a
of the cabin. ©
t seems to me that I do. Perhaps
one is burning a brush heap down
othe settlement,” returned Sam Wig-
iS, who was a little in advance of bis
anions.
That can't be the case, Sam, for don’t
ee that the wind is from the north,
would blow it in the other direc-
¢ I’m afraid that there is trouble at

"Don't be fri htened, Dick. I guess that
br wife anc are all right. _The
Baome trom & fie set, by the Indians
ome froma fire set by. the Indians
tewhere in the forest,” said Bill Hen

 

derson, who had been turning his nose in
every direction, scenting the smoke that
every moment became denser in the for-
est about them.

“Thave never felt so uneasy about them
when [ have been away as I do to-day.
Yet, for my life, I can’t tell the reason
why. And the first moment I perceived
this smoke, I could not help thinking
that it came from my ,burning cabin.
Let us hurry on, and in ten minutes we
shall know if harm has come to my wife
and child.”

The three men passed swiftly along
through the forest, and neither of them
spoke, though as they advanced the
smoke became so dense that it was almost
suffocating, and could be seen pouring
through the trees in a thick volume,
They were no longer in doubt about the
smoke being above them.

The heart of the settler sank within him
as they neared the opening. What
should he see? His wife and child mur-
dered, and his cabin in flames, or would
all be in peace and quietness as he had
left them that morning? A moment more
and the worst would be known.

Upon the edge_of the clearing they
stood at last, and with a ery of agony,
the settler and his companions saw that
their worst fears were realized.

The cabin he had left that morning
was now a mass of smoldering ruins,
from which the black smoke came up us
from a funeral pyre.

With acry of despair Richard Hayes
sprang forward in the direction of the fire,
followed closely by his companions.
Not a word was spoken by them, for they
knew that they could say nothing to
comfort the husband and father. ‘There
might yet be hope, but they feared the
worst.

When within a dozen rods of the burn-
ing cabin, Richard Hayes suddenly paused
and stood as if formed of stone for a mo-
ment, and the next he was kneeling by
the side of the dead body of his son, which
was lying in a little hollow, with the
head split in twain by the murderous
blow of a tomahawk, and the scalping-
knife had carried away the bright curls
that had often been his delight to toy
with as he lay in his arms, It was a
sight that would have caused the hard-
est heart to melt, and tears stood in the
eyes of the two men as they gazed upon
the scene before them.

For a moment the settler bent over the
body of his murdered son, and then he
gently raised the inanimate form in his
arms, and approached the pile of glowing
embers.

There was yet another to find. And
each moment they expected to gaze upon
the dead form of the wife and mother,
unless the fiends had, as aclinrax to their
terrible work, thrown her into the flames
of the burning cabin. ;

Tenderly placing the form of his mur-
dered son upon the ground, Richard
Hayes looked in vain for any trace of his
wife, and it was nearly half an hour be-
fore any clew to her whereabouts was
discovered. “4

Bill Henderson, becoming. tired of the
search about the cabin, had gone to the
edge of the forest, and came back, ex-
claiming, with a look of joy upon his
face :

“Your wife is alive, Dick! The red-
skins have carried her away with them,
I have found their trail on the outskirts
of the forest, and there are the footsteps
of a woman along with theirs. Cheer
up, for, bad as it is, it might have been
worse.” :

A ray of hope appeared in the face of
the settler fora moment. It brought joy
to his heart to know that his wife was
alive, although she was in the hands of
the savages; and unless she was rescued
therefrom, her fate would be worse than
though she had perished with her child.

The look of relief faded from his face
as his eyes again fell upon the form of
his darling boy, and a look of vengeance
overspread his features.

“Help me to place the body of my boy
where no harm can come to it in our ab-
sence. Work quickly, for we have not a
moment to lose. We must be on the trail
in ten minutes from now.” | 3t a

Quickly the two men obeyed his bid-
ding, and in a few minutes a shallow

rave was scooped out, into which the
father tenderly laid the form of his boy,
and then stood with folded arms while
they heaped the soil above it.

“Here let him rest. Now for vengeance
and the rescue !” ag

Not anotner word was spoken until
they reached the edge of the forest at the
point where the trail had been discov-
ered, and where it could now be plainly
traced by all. A close examination
showed that the party who had com-
mitted the outrage was very small, not
numbering more than four or five, and

rhaps not even so many as this. They

ad been at no pains to conceal their
foot-prints, and among them the settler
could plainly trace that of a woman,
which he had no doubt was that of his
wife. —

 

In silence the three men went on their
errand of love and vengeance combined,
Not a word passed between them, save
when it was necessary at some point in
the trail, when it required all their judg-
ment, as the darkness came on, to deter-
mine which way the Indians had gone
with their prisoner.

The afternoon sun went down; the
twilight disappeared, and darkness
reigned in the forest. Their progress
now was slow in the extreme, the trail
was so difficult to follow. But as yet
the savages had kept close to the bank
of the river. This helped them much, for
they could pass over a distance of half
a mile without trying to keep the trail,
and then would spend a few moments in
ae for it to be assured that they were
right.

Deeper and deeper grew the tangled
forest on the river bank, and darker be-
came the night around them. With the
going down of the sun, clouds had be-
gun to spread over the sky, and now so
thick a pall hung over them that the
light of the stars was completely blotted
out. Darkness was in their hearts, above
their heads, and around upon every side.

“Look !” exclaimed Bill Henderson, who
was in advance, when the night had
wore on so that it lacked not more than
an hour of midnight. “Is not that the
light of a camp-fire glimmering through
the trees?”

His two companions looked in the di-

-rection indicated, and saw that he was

not mistaken, A faint light was shining
through the trees, and they knew that;
the hour of their struggle for vengeance
had come.

With the utmost caution, “y crept on.
The light amid the trees grew larger and
and larger, and a little farther onward,
and they would be enabled to see the
number of their foes, and mayhap get a
glimpse of their captive.

With noiseless footsteps they neared
the encampment of the Indians, and
when, at last, they could see what was
passing around it, they saw a sight that
caused their blood to run cold, and ren-
dered them almost for the moment in-
capable of action.

Tied toa small tree, with dry fagots
heaped almost to her shoulders, stood
Mrs. Hayes, while a huge, painted savage
stood close beside her, with a blazing
torch in his hand, which he was waving
above his head, and making motions as
if about to set the pile on fire, apparently
for the purpose of tantalizing his victim,
who. with her face turned upward,
seemed to be engaged in prayer. Stand-
ing a little aside were three other say-
ages, apparently watching the motions of
their companion with great delight.

“Take aim, with me, at those three
standing there. He with the torch must
be left for me,” whispered Richard Hayes,
and the next moment the simultaneous
discharge of three rifles rang through the
forest, and so unerring had been the aim
that each bullet did its work, and with
a wild cry the three s&ivages fell to the
earth to rise no more.

For a moment the remaining savage
stood as if spell-bound at the fate of his
companions, and then, with a loud shout
of defiance, he flung the torch among the
dry fagots. That act was the last volun-
tary one he ever made, for the next mo-
ment he was thrown to the ground by the
united efforts of Richard Hayes’ two
companions, while he tore the blazing
fagots from about his wife, eut lose her
bonds, and folded her to his arms with a
devout thankfulness that she was again
restored to him. His errand of love was
over—now came vengeance.

“Bind him to the stake!” exclaimed
the settler, and. his companions at once
obeyed.

The fagots were piled around him, and
without a Saeed oe! of merey the torch
was applied. The fate was his that he
meant for his captive.

They stopped not fer the end, but
turned back. homeward, leaving him to

was accomplished.
—_——- +> + > —_—___—_
AN INK-ERASER.

An ink-eraser made according to the
following formula is very highly recom-
mended: Place one pound of chloride of
lime in four quarts of soft water, and,
after shaking thoroughly, allow the mix-
ture to stand for twenty-four hours, in
order that the chloride may be dissolved.
Then strain through a cotton cloth anda

add a teaspoonful of commercial acetic

acid to every ounce of the chloride of
lime water. This erasing fluid is used by
dipping the reversed end of the _pen-
holder and applying it, without rubbing,
to the word, figure, or blot intended to
be erased: When the ink has disap-
peared, the fluid must be taken up with
a blotter, and the paper is ready to write
upon again. 5 :

singing

A PHYSICIAN says practice at
wards off consumption,

his terrible fate. The settler’s vengeance |

EXCHANGE DEPARTMENT.

{IMPORTANT.—This column is free to all our readers.
We will not be responsible for transactions brought
about through notices in this column. All offers nrust
be strictly exchange offers. We will not insert any
“for sale” advertisements, nor exch sof fire-arn,
explosives, dangerous or worthless ar 28. If exchange
notices do not appear in a reasonable time, it may be
understood that they were not accepted. Address all
communications for this column to “Exchange De-
partment.”]

Siig ages

NOVELS.—Jake Fine, 842 N. Lincoln street,
Chicage, Ill., has novels to exchange for best offer.

PROGRAMMES.—D. J. Lefebvre, Box 483, Man-
chester, N. H., has 500 theater programmes to ex-
change for cloth-bound books.

& CIGARETTE ALBUMS.—Ea. J. Blanchard] 723
Golden Gate avenue, San Francisco, Cal., has cigar-
ette albums, etc., to exchange for best offer.

_ BOYS’ PAPERS.—Wm. Octzel, 2436 East Hunt-
ingdon street, Phila, Pa., has boys papers to ex-
change for bicycle, sporting, or electrical goods.

ALBUMS,—John F. Minaldi, Jr., 340 Hancock
street, Brooklyn, N. Y., has several complete sets
of albums aud_ cigarette pictures to exchange for
best offer in U.S. stamps. Columbian issue pre-
ferred. All letters answered.

STORY PAPERS.—Henry Besch, 423 West 16th
street, New York, has 400 story papers, and 18 cigar-
ette albums to.exchange for best offer.

NOVELS.—Will Gillilan, Viola, Linn Co., Iowa, ~
will send 1 5-cent novel for every 5 Columbus
stainps sent him, also give good excliange for U. S.
and foreign stamps.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Joseph C. Simonean, 242 Lin=
coln street, Marlboro’, Mass., has boys’ papers and
220 foreign stainps to exchange for best offer.

PAPERS.+C, Schweizer, 18 Metropolitan Blk ;
Chicago, ILL, has 65 running numbers of illustrated
papers to exchange for best offer in coins.

PRESS.—H. E. Bunker, 832 Bergen street,
Brooklyn, N. Y., has a4 x 6hand-inking press, with
complete outfit, valued at $7, for a good concertina,
accordion, or detective camera,

NOVELS.—E. L. Hultz, Pawling N. Y., has a
quantity of five and ten-cent novels to exchange for
others, also a first-class violin outfit for C: D. ¥. or
C. A. B., Marvel or other first-class photo. outfit.
Please give accurate description when w riting.

LIBRARIES.—Wwm. B. Zangmeister, 273 Alpine
street, Dubuque, Iowa, has libraries, stamps. boys’
papers, and afew cigarette pictures to exchange

or back numbers of boys’ papers or best offers,

STAMPS.—John Brown, 525 West Dauphin
street, Phila., Pa., has 800 foreign and U.S. stamps.
to exchange for best offer.

PRINTING PRESS.—E. H. Rose, 250 Straight
street, Grand Rapids, Mich., has aself-inking print-
ing press and outfit and reading matter to ex-
change for best offer.

ELECTRIC LIGHT PLANT.—Wm. Ward, 104
39th street, Chicago, IIL, lias an electric light plant,
44 horse-power engine, and a 50-volt dynamo to ex-
change for a good one lorse-power Shipman engine
or best offer. 4

LIBRARIES,.—Frank L. Pyatt. Vermontville,
Michigan, has libraries to exchange for a good hair
mustache.

MAGIC LANTERN.—Freid W. Schultz, Box 17,
Mendota, Ill., has a nickle-plated magic lantern,
with 12 colored slides, to exchange for best offer.

BOOKS.—Wm. Howell, Shawneetown, Illinois,
has books, boys’ papers, target gun, watch and
aeaess 2 CacbanE® for gymnasium goods or best
offer.

STAMPS,.—Frank E. Danforth, Concord, N. H.,_
has 1453 foreign stamps, cigarette album, and novels
to exchange for a set of boxing-gloves, or printing
press, or punching-bag.

BICYCLE.—B. Thomas, Box 3, Pemberton, N. J.,
has a good bicycle and a large printing press to ex-
change for a first-class collection of stamps.

BOOKS.—Geo. O. Billheimer, 351 Garrison street,
Bethlehem, Pa., has a large assortment of books,
novels, 2 printing presses, a Morris typewriter,
stereoscope, picolo, and various other articles to ex-
change for best offer. ,

CIGARETTE ALBUMS.—J. McMahon, 1735
Fairmount avenue, Phila., Pa., has 4 books and 3
cigarette albums to exchange for a new stamp
album or stamps. ‘ :

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Paul Rausmuller, 2nd avenue,
10th street, College Point, Long Island, has cigarette
cards, boys’ papers, foreign stamps, flags of all
nee games and novels to exchange for best
omer.

SKATES.—R. A. Thomas, Goodland, Kas., has a
World typewriter, a pair of roller skates, a watch,
and specimens and relics to exchange for best offer.

CIGARETTE CARDS.—Ionis Ulleméyer, 906
11th st., Ninth ave., Rock Island, Il., has cigarette
cards, tobacco tags, theater programmes to ex-
change for a first-class joint fish pole. ; $f

COINS.—Wm. Savage, 461 DeKalb avenue,
Brooklyn, N. Y,, has a large amount of foreign and
U.S. coins, all different, to exchange for rare U.
S. stamps, and tor Columbian 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 16, 30,
and 50-cent stamps, or best offer.

FIFE.—Henry W. Fitzgerald, Agawam, Mass.,
has a fife, silver watch, in good condition, pair of
roller skates, Weeden upright engine, and several
libraries to exchange for best offer.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—O. C. Ames, Malone, N. Y.,
has boys’ papers, 2 vols. of Scientific American, and
a water motor to exchange for a elarionet for
orchestra use, or electrical goods. ,

TYPEWRITER.—W. C. Martin, Butternut,
Montcalm Co., Mich., has a typewriter, a nickle
cased alarm clock, and a pair of No. 6 half-clamp
skates, to exchange for stamps or best offer.

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E==

Contents of this Number.

 

SERIAL STORIES.

“A Boy’s Fortune,” by Horatio Alger.
“Exiled to Siveria,” by Wm. Murray Gray-

don.
“The Treasure of the Golden Crater,” by
Lieut. Lionel Lounsberry.
“The ae Ranchers,” by Edward S.
tilis.
“A Texas Fortune,” by Randolph Hill.
“Mat Merriman, the Mesmerist,” by Har-
vey Hicks.
SHORT STORIES. s
“Tales of the Track,” by Maro 0. Rolfe.
“Burned at the Stake,” by Arthur L.
Meserve.
“‘A Popular Wheelbarrow,” by Max Adeler.

“The Deserters,” by Guy Decker.
“A Link from a Chain,” by Walter F.

Jeffers.
“A Specter at the Helm,” by Roger Star-
buck.
REGULAR DEPARTMENTS.
Short Talks With the Boys” on Trades,
Professions, and Business Pursuits,
by Arthur Sewall.
“Exchange Department.”
“Ticklets,” by Chas. W. Foster.
“Mail Bag.” :
‘‘Puzzle Corner.”
‘*‘Games.”
“Short Stops.”
_ Miscellaneous Jtems, etc.

ORATIO ALGER’ story begins in this
issue. Read it and then pass the paper
around among your friends so that they can
do the same. It is a story which should be
read by every boy in the land, Our object
is to get all young men interested in Goop
News, and with your aid we can accomplish
this in a very skort time
+ »—_____

E desire to make a general answer to

a number of our readers by saying

yes, we solicit original contributions to

Puzzle Department. The Exchange column

is free, also Mail Bag and Short Talks With
the Boys questions are answered free.

: ——_———_~>_ + >-____-
Every man in Russia must be pro-
vided with a passport, which must be an-

nually renewed through the authorities
of his village. When the commune re-
fuses to forward the necessary documents
_ the absentee, who may be earning a good
livelihood away from his village, is ob-
liged immediately to return, to avoid ar-
rest for the criminal offense of having no
legal status, :

 

 

A POPULAR WHEELBARROW.

BY MAX ADELER,

eeeseemne epee

GOOD many years ago, when Judge
iN b Pitman moved into our village, he
Oy brought with him a very superior
new wheelbarrow which he had
bought up North somewhere, Now, it so
happened that there was only one other
wheelbarrow in town, and that was old-
fashioned and very rickety, so the judge’s
immediately became in great demand.
Everybody wanted the loan of it for a
few days, and the judge lent it with such
generosity that it was out most of the
time, and a good many people had to
wait for it. At last there care to be
quite a rivalry as to who should have _ it
next, and they used to tackle the judge
at every opportunity to put in their
claims. One day Pomeroy’s wife died,
and the judge attended the funeral,
Pomeroy was nearly wild with grief, and
as he stood at the urave he cried as if his
heart would break to see the loved re-
mains lowered into their last resting-
place, Presently he took his handker-
chief from his eyes for a moment in order
to blow his nose, and as he did so he hap-
pened to see Pitman looking at him. A
thought seemed to strike Pomeroy. He
dashed away a couple of tears, and _ step-
ping across the excavation as they began
to shovel in the dirt, he seized the judge
by the hand. Sere ot gave it a sympa-
thetic squeeze, and said:

“I’m sorry, Pomeroy—I am, indeed.
She was a noble woman, and a good wife.
But you must remember that your loss is
her gain, and try to bear up under it.”

“Ah! she was, indeed, a woman in ten
thousand, as you say,” replied Pomeroy,
“and now to think that she is gone, gone
from us forever. But these afflictions
must not make us forget the duty weowe
to the living. Judge, I want to borrow
your wheelbarrow. If you can accommo-
date me on Tuesday I think maybe the
worst of my suffering will be over.”

“You shall have it,” said the judge.

“Thank you, oh, thank you! Our
friends are a great comfort to us in the
nour of bereavement,” and then Pomeroy
gave his mother-in-law his arm, put his
handkerchief to his eyes, and joined the
procession of mourners,

On the next Sunday Rev. Dr. Bunner
eet ha amost thrilling sermon in the

aptist church, and just as he reached
“secondly,” he paused, looked around the
church for a minute, and then he called
Deacon Moody up to the pulpit. He
whispered something in Moody’s ear, and
Moody seemed to be astonished. The con-
gregation were wild with curiosity to
know what was the matter, Then the
deacon, with a very red face, and looking
annoyed, walked down the aisle to Pit-
man’s pew, and whispered something to
him. he judge nodded, and whispered
to Mrs. Pitman, who was dying to know
what it was. Mrs. Pitman leaned over
and passed the information to Mrs. Mc-
Grady in the pew in front, and when the
McGradys all had it they sent it on to the
people next to them, and before the doc-
tor reacheé@ “thirdly” the whole congrega-
tion knew that he wanted to borrow the

judge’s wheelbarrow for Monday morning
|early.

On the following day the judge started
to go up the river to the city on the
steamboat, but the vessel had hardly left
the wharf when the boiler burst, and the
judge and half a dozen other passengers
were blown into the air. The judge came
down first and struck out for shore. All
of asudden another elevated parsenger
shot down on top of him with such force
as to send the judge to the bottom of the
river. He came up sputtering and blow-
ing, and found the stranger treading
water, The stranger apologized, and said
the judge might not recognize him in his
nenned condition as. Israel Tobin, but

while they were together he would like

to put ina word for that wheelbarrow
when the parson was done with it,

At last the judge grew tired of lend-
ing, and refused all applications. Then
the people began to steal it, and the
judge had six of the most respectable
c.tizens in jail, one after the other, for
larceny. Finally he chained it to the
pump, and then they sawed off the pump
and stole the wheelbarrow with the log
attached to it. Then he took to keeping
it on top of his house, afid this answered
for a while, until Cooley went up one
evening in a hot-air balloon and borrowed
it. Then the judge chucked it into the
river, and two men were drowned swim-
ming after it, and the people of the town
were so exasperated that the police had
to be called out to keep them from mob-
bing the judge’s house. The following
week some § enterprising  speculator
brought down a boat-load of wheelbar-
rows of the new kind, and then the ex-
citement abated, and things went along
more smoothly. The judge, however, has
used a push-cart ever since,

 

T [ALKS
SHORT Ne

-—-—

BY ARTHUR SEWALL.
ages

A NEW READER, Waltham, Mass., writes: “I
am good at drawing or constructing model sail-
ing vessels. I know how to apply the rules for
center, resistance, etc., to them. By studying
scientific books, I have obtained a fair idea
how large steam and sailing vessels are built.
Do you think I ceuld become a successful
marine architect? Whatis-the income of such ?
Is there any school where it is taught asa
Separate study? I have an idea that I would
like to be an officer in the Navy. Which would
youadvise me to pursue? If you choose the
former, would you advise me to go through the
high school, or begin the study at once?”

_ In order to become a naval architect
it is best, of course, to take a thorough
course in engineering at some technical
school, such as the Massachusetts Insti-
tute of Technology in Boston, or the
technical institute at Worcester. Then
you must secure an appointment at some
ship-yard and work your way up.

Frequently in these columns we have
described the means of securing an ap-
pointment at the United States Naval
Academy at Annapolis, from where, on
graduation, you pass into the Navy and
so become an officer, s

Of the two occupations mentioned by you
the former is by far the better, so that
we would advise you to adhere to your
ambition of becoming a naval architect.
The remuneration is not one concerning
which much can be said. A naval archi-
tect receives what he can earn, If he
builds a single ship in a year his compen-
sation is naturally less than if he builds
ten of the same size. All things are rel-
ative, and it is impossible to fix any sum
that may be regarded as the average sal-
ary paid or earned by a naval architect.

There is still a final course open to you.
In connection with the United States
Navy, there is a bureau devoted espe-
cially to the building of ships, and un-
der certain circumstances it may be pos-
sible for you to secure an appointment in
that department, If so you will receive
your education free, and if you are dis-
‘ege to exert yourself, in time you will
ye advanced until you attain a place
that will pay you $4,000 or $5,000 a year,
and which carries a pension with it on
retirement.

The details of this department and the
facilities afforded to a young man who
desires to become a naval architect can
be obtained by writing a polite letter to
the Secretary of the Navy, Washington,
D. C., stating exactly what you desire,
and asking what opportunities can be
afforded you. The development of a new
navy is now in course of progress and
will yet afford abundant chance for an

oung man who desires to distinguis
cimsait in this branch,

Under any circumstances it is best to
get as much education as you can, so that
all things being equal, you had better
continue your studies at the high school.
If you can secure an apvointment to the
United States Naval Academy, then, of
course, there will be no need of your re-
maining at the school. Also, if you in-
tend following an engineering course at
one of the technical schools of the coun-
try, there will be no necessity of remain-
ing for studies beyond what are re-
quired for the entrance examination,

C O.O., Washington, D. C., writes: “There
was a Government exploring party sent out
from Butte city, Mont., or vicinity, in June or
July of last summerto explore Alaska. Can
youinform me if anything has been heard of
them since they left Montana? There was an}
R. F. Anderson in the party, and I have an idea
he is my cousin, ashe has not been heard of
since the patty left for Alaska. Any irforma-
tion you can give me concerning them will be
thankfully received.”

Concerning, information about any ex-
ploring party that went to Alaska, un-
der Government auspices, you had better
write to the secretary of Geographical
Society, in care of the Cosmos Club,
Washington, D. C. He can post you at
once,

From the general vagueness of your
communication no definite information
can be given to you by us, but we strongly
suspect that you have reference to the
expedition headed by Professor Israel
Russel, now of the University of Michi-
gan at Ann Arbor, but formerly connected
with the United States Geological Sur-
vey. He made two trips to Alaska dur-
ing recent summers in order to measure
the height of Mount St. Elias, which is
believed to be the highest peak in North
America. x

W.H.8., Ohw, writes: “Iam 8 boy 18 years

of age, and at present am working in @ sash,
door, and blind factory at $1.26 a day, and have

 

a chance of earning $2 a day in the course of a
year, but would like to be a bartender, where I
could havea chance to learn to become a heavy |
veer lifter, pugilist, wrestler, and indulge in.
all kinds of athletic aud gymnastic sports, |
Also I would like to goin search of adventure
in some wild region,
me to do ?” 4

It takes all kinds of people to make up |
this world of ours. A bartender or pugil-
ist is not a very high ideal of a man to
pattern after. He may be a fine specimen
of physical strength, but he is a pretty

oor illustration of manhood. There is
in New York a young man who has made
considerable. money
Perhaps he is more worthy of imitation, —
His first great feat was jumping off the
East River bridge. Leave the bar-room -
business to those who can do nothing
better. If you have a higher occupatioa, |
stick to it, and be an honest American
mechanic,

W. M. C., of Brooklyn, N. Y., desires an opin-
ion on the stone-cutting trade. Whether itisa—
good business to learn, and the wages given, —

The stone-cutting trade is one of the
best and steadiest of trades. Stone-cut-:
ters work in all kinds of weather, as
they have shelter when it is stormy. |
Their pay is from $3.25 to $3.50 a day,
or from $19.50 to $21.00 a week. There
is an excellent opportunity affcrded to
young men living in New York and vi- |
cinity to take a three months’ day course
of instruction in plain and ornamental
stone-cutting in brown stone, at the trade
schools, ;

It begins with squaring an irregular
block of stone. The pupil is then showdl
how to finish the surface in various ways,
such as rubbed, tooled, lush-hammered, |
random-pointed, tooth-chiseled, etc. He
is then taught to cut chambers, simple
moldings, return moldings, raised and
sunken panels. 4

Of course you can learn the trade by
going to work with a stone-cutter and
learning the trade under his supervision,
but the trade can be learned much more
thoroughly and rapidly with a skilled
mechanic to show how each piece of work
should be done, and to explain why it
should be done in a particular way. 4

For a number of years the instruction
at the New York Trades Schools was
given in the evening, but it was found
that the work was too severe to be done

in the evening, especially if some other }

occupation is followed during the day,
and in consequence a three months’ day
course was established, for which $35 is.
charged,

This class is reserved for young men
between 18 and 23 years of age. Instruc-
vee is given every day from 8 a. M, to-

P. M.

Thus an excellent opportunity is af-
forded to any young man who desires to
learn this trade.

H. D., Anoka, Minn., writes: “Would you ad-

vise me which trade tolearn? Tlike telegraphy

and photography. Iam a little more advanced

in the former, but like both. I am butl7 years
of age. Please put advice in Short Talks With
the ae: lam doing everything to help the
Goop NEws.”

Better a far to bea Rrotarapien tha 2

a telegraph operator. e have elsewhere
in this column expressed our ideas on the
undesirability of being a telegraph oper-
ator. Therefore we need not repeat them.
You will also find in recent issues of
the Goop News, among our “Short Talks,
some ideas on the desirability of being
a photographer. Go to any seaside resor
and see the number of booths where
photographs and tin types are made.
rom these you will see that photography
is not yet to be written down as a back
number, ;
The great opportunities for success are
naturally in those branches of artisanship
where there is a steady demand for the
commodity offered, hence in but few lines
of work are greater opportunities afforded:
to a youny man for great success than in
photography. a
6
WHY A CAT FALLS UPON ITS FEET, —

The fact that however a cat may be
thrown it will usually manage to fal) on
its feet is because of the oe with
which it balances itself when springing
from a height; which power of balancing
is in some eens produced by the flexi:
bility of the heel, the bones of which
have no fewer than four joints. Another
reason why it usually alights softly on
its feet is because in the middle of the
foot there is a large ball, or pad, in five:
parts, formed of an elastic substance, and
at the base of each tue there is a similar
pad. a

‘Some people suppose that rosewood
takes its name from its color; but that
is a mistake. Rosewood is not red oF
yellow, but almost black. Itsnamecomes
from the fact that when first cut it
exhales a perfume similar to that of
the rose; and, although the dried rose-
wood of commerce retains no trace
this perfume, the name lingers as
relic of the early history of the wood, —

 

What would you advise |

by runnivg a bar. F

Fe cat hag. gee Wh eat es Oak A ;

Ph de
  

ves

burse of a
r, where I
© & heavy

udulge in |

Cc sports,
.dventure
U advise

make up
or pugil-
man to

pecimen —

a pretty

Chere is |

aS made

a bar. ¥

itation,
off the
ar-room
nothing
ipatioa,
nerican

an opin-

eritisa

given,
of the

ne-cut- F
her, as”

 

   
  
    
  
  
   
    

  

 

- Was Charley’s rejoinder,

0.
- finished.

THIS STORY WILL NOT BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK-FORM, }

A TEXAS FORTUNE:

FROM FORT TO CIT yw.
By RANDOLPH HILL.

(“A TEXAS FORTUNE” was commenced in No. 140.

CHAPTER XV.

THE BJG LAND SALE,

Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.}

chaps used to laugh at me up in Brook-

lyn. But I’ve given this subject study.

Now see if I don’t put it right, Hanks.’
“Go ahead,” sane Charley, with a new

G ULLO, Pond; where’s Baldy?”|ideain his head, for he had been want-
Ie] “About here, old chap. And a|ing an assistant in the office, overworked
half-dozen other fellows trying to| himself as he was, and had been at his

tumble out
there.”

of the car behind | wit’s end whom to put his hands on.

“If we get that mill in here it will

“Well, glad to see you in Fort Worth. | bring five hundred families. The other

Town’s growing, 1 tell ye.
Organized. Our stock is all

We are alli work besides mill work that five hundred

families, fifteen

 

taken, and could be sold
for five hundred dollars per
Share to-day, I think,” was
anks’ reply.
. I hope you are not sell-
Ing any stock,” was Pond’s
uick remark. “For New
ork is getting crazy over
the South. Look at Bir-
Mingham, Alabama.”
“Oh, we'll bea big city,”
with

, a slap on the back.
But come right up to the
otel. You fellows want
to get yourselves in fix for
Our land sale to-morrow.
T have to show the people
what kind of a crowd I
have at the other end of
my line, You all look a
bit tired and dusty. Get-
ting to be warm here in
February.”

The company trooped off
with many a youthful joke
and good story.

ou are not married
yet?” asked Baldy.
My house is not

I shall be all

xed in a month,” said
Charley.

“How's the handsome
Indian princess?”

thought you'd have
that out, old chap. Glad
yOu spoke of it first. She’s
ere. Why, she is worth
Over a million.”

Some of the young fel-
Ows caught the last word
and look of Charley, and
Such expressions as—

Take her if you can get
her, my child.”

That’s better than a
Captaincy in the —th pre-
Cinct,”

“Good-by, frozen North.
The sunny South forever
now, Baldy,” rang out at

im as the happy, hopeful
crowd trudged along up to
the hotel,

Now, fellows,” ex-
plained Hanks, an hour Y
ater, as all hands were
“Ssembled over in the fine, new director's
Toom of the Texas Land and Improve-
ment Company, “1 propose to tell yon
what I have done. I expect a whole ex-
fursion train down here from St. Louis.

1€se mechanics will want to buy land.”
ayo right,” exclaimed Haskell Pond.

We're the chaps that want to sell ‘em
the land.”

Go slow, my boy,”said Charley, “We
must make it an object for them.”

don’t see what we've got to do with
Making it an object. What we want is
© profit on our land,” was the sapient
Temark of Cale Southworth.
r You don’t, eh?” said Charley. “Well,
t ve seen enough of business to know that
€ doctrine that what one fellow makes
another must lose, is an infamous lie.
han fain must be the other fellow’s gain,

+ What you got in mind, old financier?”
fsked Cole, who was at heart a good fel-
Ow, and only needed his immense en-

usiasm rightly directed.

-We have got to get some company to

Put a cotton mill on our land.”
l ll right. That ought to sell twenty
ots,” said Pond.
© must give some Yankee corpora-
N up in Fall River, or somewhere
orth, five full acres.”
a ve ih

fF That’s it, Give five full acres, and
oer to erect their mill, or help them to

at least half erection expenses.”
the wcll) you are a queer fellow. Is that
© Way you bring us in big profits?”
lara.” 100k a-here,” said Newsboy Bal-
ard, “even I can see that’s right. You

 

hundred people, if

 
  
 
  
 

not two thousand,
would bring in,
means lots sold to
grocers, doctors,

 

 

GOooD NEWS.

But the ascendancy which this bright
young man had gained over all his asso-
ciates was so perfect that beyond a slap-
ping of the knee and—

“You are a great one!”

“Go ahead. All we chaps can do is to
follow.”

“Yours, forever, Haskell Pond !”—and
similar remarks, no protest was offered.

The party started out to view the grow-
ing little city. As they rode about,
Hanks took special delight in saying,
for instance:

“Over there, where you see that row
of stores, not two years ago was nothing
but wild grass and an occasional Indian

ony hitched, while the red devil came
into the camp of the ——th Cavalry to
beg a quarter or pick a fight.”

The Eastern boys had never seen such
a sight as a city of over four thousand
grown up in less than two years. There
were now four railways coming into
town. Every train brought more or less
venturesome young men, bent on making
their fortune.

“No gray-headed men round here,” re-
marked Newsboy Ballard. “Looks queer.
But I see enough faded heads. This new
country takes the hair off before it has
time to turn gray, eh?”

The day was spent very agreeably, even

  

  
 

 

in the sight-seeing of a new town. But

 

  
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
 

 

“STOP HIM!” SCREAMED A DOZEN VOICES, AND EAGER HANDS WERE OUTSTRETCHED TO DETAIN HIM.

the city for schools, and churches must be
built, and men’s souls being cared for,
the soles of their children’s feet must be
shod |”

“Oho! Put him down for one,” was
the good-natured shout at the pun,

Briefly, it may be related, the boys
caught on the idea of giving their lands
judiciously for the sake of making it an
object to people to come to the new
town.

“Now, Mr. Eaton French, of Dallas,
Colonel Fanstone, Doctor Fanstone, and
myself have acted for the directors,” said
Charley. “All the low lands, that we
could hardly sell for homies, have been
offered to corporations. A cotton mill,
an iron furnace, a boot and shoe factory,
are arranged for. We have the thing
well under way. This excursion from St,
Louis comes down here bringing a lot of
thrifty mechanics, house builders, black-
smiths, and all thatclass. Now, I’m go-
ing to break your hearts, quite. The di-
rectors pay all expenses of the train, and
keep the crowd with a slaughtered ox,
and barbecue for three days, free, gratis,
for nothing, without asking a cent,”

 

 

pies the pleasantest sight was of the
ollowing character:

“Stop all the carriages,” shouted Char-
ley, pulling up his own driver in front
of a new street that had just been graded.

“Now, here,” he went on to explain as
the various vehicles had come to a stand-
still and the boys had alighted, “here
starts out our new boulevard. “All this
land belongs to our company, except what
we havesold. This corner here,” pointing
with his new silk hat in one hand and
wiping his brow with a perfumed hand-
kerchief with the other, “this corner
brought us. in exactly fifteen thousand
dollars,”

“It’s cost to us,” quickly put in Col-
one] Fanstone, “was less than two hun-
dred dollars. That’s the way fortunes
are made when things go your way.”

“But you should explain,” said Charley,
“that this boulevard has cost us twenty-
five thousand dollars. It runs out here
for miles, and is all] finished as you see it
here for ten blocks.”

“Oh, of course. And yet this opposite
corner is still unsold,” objected the
doctor,

 

2377

“Any man can have it who will pay us
eighteen thousand dollars,” laughed
Charley.

“I know a rich kid who came down on
our train who’ll buy it, if I can catch him
when he is sober.”

“What's the odds?” asked a young fel-
low who had joined the party against the
protest of the straightforward Baldy.
In fact the boys rather prided themselves
on their clean, high-toned make-up.

“I should say this company don’t sell
to drunks, to take advantage,” growled
Baldy.

“Wait till the man knows what he is
about,” was Hanks’ ready retort. “Then
if he isa nervy speculator, and has the
money, we’]l talk.”

I may as well say right here that this
trade was actually accomplished the next

ay.

We will not ask our readers to labor
through any further description of the
auction sale of lots the next day and the
weeks that followed. Charley Hanks was
his own auctioneer and did finely. There
was a great crowd. Two brass bands
gave music. A big tent sheltered the
tables, loaded with “the fruits of the
South,” of which every one had enough
to eat. Above all, the lots that were
offered were disposed of, and when the
red sun of the early summer flung his last
beams over the rolling table
lands, the crowd went
scrambling back to hotel,
boarding-house, and excur-
sion train in the best of
humor,

Our interest now centers in
the settling up, the “count-
ing the cl.ickens” that fol-
lowed, and in the fearful
danger of the loss of all that
SO soon followed on the heels
of this apparently most pros-
perous hour in the young
cavalry boy’s life.

 

CHAPTER XVI.

THE COMPANY’S ANNUAL
MEETING.

A\HE anpual meeting of
~ the Texas Land and
Improvement Com-
7” pany was assembled
in a large room on . Rusk
street in the city of Fort
Worth. It wasautumn. For
many weeks the young gen-
tlemen had been traveling
about the great State, or
settling themselves in busi-
ness in the new city.

“I think any man would
say,”General Manager
Hanks went on to remark,
“that this was a pretty good
looking set of boys. For boys
we nearly all are, if we ex-
cept the colonel.”

“Who is only thirty-two
years old,” put in that hand-
some officer.

“Thanks to General Grant
and his son Fred,” was Mr.
Eaton French’s quick re-
joinder, “the youngest col-
onel in the army. I am the
old fellow of this crowd.
I’m forty. The doctor, here,
is only twenty-two.”

“Of course there may be
very many old people who
have bought our stock,”
Charley went on, “but we
are a young crowd. This is
a young city.”

“And we have each of us
made young fortunes, eh?”
laughed Sergeant Baldy.

“Looks that way. Our
stock is easily worth five
hundred dollars per share.
We can declare a dividend
of fair proportions, and we
have lots of land to sell as the city
grows,” said Charley.

Charley Hanks’ coupe and horses stood
at the door as he spoke, for Mrs. Mollie, his
wife of two weeks, had begun to think it
time her husband got home to dinner.
The new residence had been occupied just
two days, and there was to be a dinner
party that evening. The young wife had
driven down from the residence, after
tripping gleefully and with a cultivated
woman’s taste over every room and giv-
ing her last orders to the caterers.

“For it will be like Charley to get his
head so full of business, down there,
that he will forget that he is to dress,”
she said to a lady in the carriage next
her by the curb.

“And yet,” was the reply of a dark-
featured, beautiful woman, as she leaned
out of her \carriage window and — in
charming Indian accent, a broken English
which we all recognize, “if it were not
for this horrid business, as I’ve heard the
lady call it, we should not be able to-day
to ride in the carriage.”

And her pretty little gesture indicated
several other carriages whose circling

  
So is

ruined; I have no money.

has timed it well. I
Eaton, come here.”
But instead of coming near, Mr. Eaton

2378

CeOOD

 

Wr ee

motions up and down were working off
the extra mettle.

“Of course, you know what I mean,”
was the gay reply. “Who's that?”

An ungracious appearing man passed
before the noses of her horses, guided by
a policeman, and went shambling up the
stairs toward the room where the busi-
ness meeting was yet lingering. But the
sinister passage of the sinister pair at-
tracted no further attention of the happy
ladies, and Mrs. Hanks and Princess
Navina went on with their sparkling
small talk as if nothing had happened.

Up stairs Mr. Hanks was saying:

“And now I propose a horse-railroad
clear round our first plot. It will cost
about a million dollars. I can sell the
stock in the North.”

“Tf you are so flush, pay your debts

The voice rung out discordantly on the
air. Everybody turned to see who had
spoken.

“I represent a block of stock taken
by some people in Boston. I would
be glad to get par for it. I am told
by a gentleman at my side that he has
just been boasting, for your happiness,
you green boys, that you are all rich at
five hundred dollars pershare. All right.
Take this, ‘Twenty thousand dollars’
worth for ten thousand dollars.” And he
held up a bundle of certificates.

Charley Hanks turned pale as marble.
Every one noticed the change in his color,
and all eyes were on him instantly for
his reply.

“It may be well to let us have your
numbers,” said Charley, now_ regaining
his self poise momentarily. For he who
will fight for a fortune must-be cool, and
as ready to face danger as a cavalryman
in the field.

’“Beginning with number seven hun-
dred and sixty-three,” shouted back the
stranger. “Young man, a big fortune
can’t be made in a minute, you’ll find.
When we learned,” and he seemed _ to be
talking to the ears of others than Hanks,
now, “how a fine residence, horses and
carriages, a new wife with diamonds——”

“Hold on man!” The words shot likea
lightning gleam from Hanks’ lips. “You
are engaged in a bold game to bear this
stock by ruining the general manager’s
good name. There are reporters here,
and the telegraph will, perhaps, begin to
tick this foolish stuff to New York and
Boston in an hour. Go ahead, if you
will; but as tomy wife, you scoundrel,
whether she has diamonds or not, con-
found you, it’s none of your business, I
can pay my debts. Then whose business
si ”

?

“You can, eh?” was the provoking re-
ply of the stranger. “I’ll talk with you
about your debts later. But first I want
to sell my stock,” still holding it up and
thumbing the paper.

“Gentlemen,” said Charley, “I know
all about this block of stock. It was sold

in Mexico. I always regretted it. Buta
big premium was given for it. I sus-
pected a plot, then. Now I know it.”

“What plot?” sneered the stranger.

“Captain Sarasino has gone out of the
‘revolver business. He did not dare try
one on the cavalry boy. He has been
supposed to be dead. No, sirs; he re-
turned to his impoverished estate in
Sonora. With the French influences that’
set up Maxamilian he has got into power.
- He fell in with a fellow by the name of

Walker, from Frisco. They struck a sil-
ver minein Lower California. Sarasino
gent Walker to buy this block of stock.
He didit through a broker in Austin, I

- found out the scoundrel’s purpose within
twenty-four hours!” ae

“Oh, now!” growled the stranger, de-
risively, “that’s all pres talk. Take
my stock. Money talks best. Who'll
on a dollar for

f a me ninety-five cents
Tt?”

_. Hanks waited to hear some one reply.
- Tt did seem to him that even young men
~ ought to believe their own eyes rather
than this bluff-gaming stranger. Had
they not all seen, for months past, the
real value of lands in the young city,
growing to be a second St. Louis in a few

s? Buta panic was on them, here,

naminute. ‘She room was silent with

that most fearful of all silences, a money

_ panic, when men are becoming slowly

aware, in a dumb and helpless way, that

they are ruined, or think they are, which
1 the same.

Colonel Fanstone strode round the

table, his voice husky with a nameless

- fear, and whispered: _
>" Can you buy it and save the trouble,
_ Hanks?
The doctor also added this exhortation :
“The telegrams will go North; we are
“7 would buy it,” was Charley’s whis-
per. trembling with suppressed emotion,
“but somebody up at the South, Bank in
New York, must have given it away that
have forty thousand dollars of notes
coming due in three days. The rascal
haven’t the money.

French sprang to his feet and shouted,

 

“Stranger, will you take a certified
check? If so, I’ll help Captain Sarasino
throw away forty thousand dollars, I'll
buy your stock.”

The two men met at the table. The
transfer books were of course at hand.
The check was passed.

“I'll hold my purhase for five hundred |
dollars. per share—cost nearly one hun- |
dred dollars,” cried Mr, French, exuit- |
antly. |

“Very good,” chuckled the stranger, |
reaching into his bag. “Perhaps you will |
buy this brewery stock that I hold in my
hand.”

No one made any reply, and the stranger
went on:

“Lots number seventy-six to eighty-six
on Garfield avenue. That’s a pretty good
location in your new lands, I take it.”

“That’s the most desirable portion of
our lay-out. The aristocracy street,” said
Haskell Pond, springing to hisfeet. “We
Brooklyn fellows bought in heavily of
these lots ourselves.”

“Yes,” drawled the stranger. “Buta
drunken fellow, a born speculator, got
sober long enough to buy lots seventy-six
to eighty-six. That’s right in the heart
of the aristocracy you were expecting
around Garfield Park, eh.”

Again the marble pallor stole over
Charley Hanks’ handsome features. He
could not see the game quite through.
But he felt certain there was an evi
hand in it, and that some nuisance was |
to be located there to blast the market |
value of adjacent lots as yet unsold.

“Colonel,” whispered Charley, “I bought
in round there. And I have given moit-
gage with my notes, toa New York bank,
for sixty thousand dollars on lots ninety
to one hundred—that’s opposite—and forty |
to fifty—that’s just beyond. And lots of
four blocks just south,”

“Because,” snarled the stranger, “our
drunken friend from New York is going to
locate a brewery there. Hehas raised the
money for the stock. A’ mutual friend of
ours named Sarasino, Captain Sarasino,
the owner of the Last Hope Silver Mines,
has given him alift. Nodoubt you’d rather
not have a brewery right there. Nora
rolling mill, nor a chair factory, nor a
tannery ?”

“How much will—will you take for the
lots seventy-six to eighty-six?” asked
Charley.

“We don’t sell the land unless we sell

 

our brewery stock,” was the mocking re-| &

ply “ About three hundred thousand dol-
ars will pick us up.”

“Hanks, we’re, ruined!”

It was impossible to say just who said
it first. But in a confused murmur the
terrible utterance of fate rose from differ-
ent parts of the room at the same time.

“T’ll sell what I’ve got in here and get
out,” was the next ot Several spoke it.
The boys began talking their thoughts
out ites One would ask another, “Give
me one hundred dollars per share; I dare
you.” “Give me seventy-five dollars per
share.” And several rushed from the
room to telegraph friends at the North an
offer of stock at twenty-five dollars off—
thirty dollars off—fifty dollars off. Men
whom they informed before leaving home,
“No stock was to be had. We’re not
selling. We are holding.”

A careful observer might have studied
the face of this stranger with profit. His
ears were pricked to hear every offer of
the panic-stricken boys. But he said
nothing as yet. He stood in the noisy
crowd that surrounded poor Charley
Hanks’ chair. Charley had sunk down.
He held his hand to his throbbing brow.
He saw his enemy triumphing over him.
His fortune was slipping away. His
credit would be broken. He probably
could not borrow a dollar on his paper in
the morning.

“Mr. Hanks,” the janitor of the hall
came up to whisper, “your lady is wait-
ing below. She says you'll be late for
the supper.”

This message seemed to act like fire on
the young fellow. He sprang to his feet.
He walked to the dingy windows and

azed out on his splendid new coupe and

ays.

oTrell her I’ll be down Jater. No; I'll
go tell ber,” was his response, and he
started for the door.

“Stop him!” screamed a dozen voices,
and eager hands were outstretched to de-
tain him.

“Take your hands off!" heshouted, “You
fools! Do you suppose I’m going to run
away?”

But though he were a giant he could
not battle with these young fellows, who,
as is always the case in panic, had lost
all reason.

“Do you think I’ll not remember?” he
cried, “I oe want to speak to my wife,
who is waiting below. I’ll remember
who was my friend and who thought I
was turned cut-throat on the first provo-
cation. Baldy, open that door!”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
+> —___——_

Anovr 400 paintings will b2 sent to the

},; four men.

 

World’s Fair by Danish artists.

NEw Ss.

THE DESERTERS.

meneame

BY GUY DECKER,

——+

Te OUR sailors deserted the ship St.
th | Mary shortly after her arrival at
dhe — port of San Carlos, in the year

Three of the runaways being desperate
characters, who had more than once
threatened to murder the captain and
take the ship, no effort was made to re-
capture them,

“We’lllet ’em go,” the young skipper
had said to his mate. “That is my wife’s
advice. She tells me that she could no¢
help feeling uneasy while those ruffians
were on board.”

“Ay, ay, it’s best to let ’em go,” an-
swered the first officer. “I don't believe
there’s a more ruffiauly set to be found
than three of ’em—Tom Gray, Bill Spoke,
and Ned Warren. As to the other, Harry
Smith, he isn’t such a bad fellow, but as
long as he joined the rest we'll not
bother with him either.”

One night, not long after the desertion,
the captain and his pretty wife, Mary,
having been pulled ashore in the quarter-
boat, were strolling arm in arm along
one of the roads outside of the town,
when they were suddenly surrounded by
The young skipper quickly
pure his sheath-knife from his belt,
mut before he could use it, he received a
heavy blow upon the head from some
person behind him, and fell senseless at
the feet of his young bride.

“Ho! ho!” cried the voice of Tom Gray ;
“TI guess you got it then, youngster.
That’s the way to do the business. I
never dealt a better blow in my life,
One of you’d better make sure of him,
rie while I attend to the young
ady.”

Accordingly, Harry Smith advanced,
flourishing his knife in a threatening
manner, and he laughed disdainfully
when Mary, who was now kneeling by
the prostrate form, tried to push him
back with her tiny hands, while entreat-
ing him to spare the life of her husband.

Her voice was soon hushed by Spoke,

who suddenly thrust a gag into her
mouth.* Then Sea her away from
her husband, and, throwing both arms
around her waist, held her with a firm
rasp.
“Don’t struggle—it’s no use of strug-
gling!” he exclaimed. “I wouldn't let
you go, I wouldn't, not for a fortune.
That gag will prevent you from cryin’
out, and splittin’ a blood vessel, which
would be a great misfortun’ to usas have
had so much trouble in getting you,”

The young bride did not hear a word of
this eee All her attention was ab-
sorbed by the movements of Smith, who,
now stooping over the motionless form
of the captain, lifted his knife on high,
with the point directed at the heart of
the helpless man. She clasped her hands
in agony; her eyes flashed wildly with
the supplication her lis could no longer
utter, a death-like pallor

face.

Still holding the knife uplifted, the de-
serter looked at her steadily for a few
seconds; she thought she could detect a
gleam of mercy in his eyes; she thought
she even saw the hand that grasped the
weapon shake with a sudden tremor.

Perhaps she was deceived; she might
be, for the darkness prevented her from
seeing very distinctly; but, at any rate,
a faint hope glided into her bosom. The
next moment, however, it vanished ; for,
with a mocking laugh, Smith again fixed
his glance upon the prostrate form, then
—the glittering steel descended !

“Ho! ho! that was too much for her!”
cried Tom. “She’s gone off in a swoon!
Where did you stick him, my lad? it’s
so confounded dark I couldn’t see!”

“In the heart!” answered Smith. “He’s
as dead as a frozen fish! The blow was
strong and sure!”

He rolled the motionless body over upon
its face, and proceeded to wash his knife
in a puddle of water.

“Push the corpse into the brush!” ex-
claimed Tom; “we don’t want to be both-
ered with it.”

“No, no!” replied the other, “if you'll
take my advice, we’ll bury it. I never
could bear the sight of adead man’s face.
We'll probably see the body again if we
throw it in the brush.” E

“That conscience of yours, Harry, will
yet be the death of you!” cried Tom.
“However, we'll bury it, if you'll take
the trouble to dig the grave. I shan’t
bother about it, for my_part.”

So saying, he hurried off with bis un-
conscious burden, followed by Spoke and
Warren, leaving Harry Smith to dispose
of the body of the young captain.

They soon reached a hut ina deep val-
ley, between-a range of lofty hills; and,
taking the gag fromm the mouth of the
unconscious girl, they thrust her into the
rude habitation. Then Tom Gray ‘pulled
an old note-book from his pocket and
tore out a page, —

overspread her

 

nian ki

“What are you going to do now?” in-
quired one of his companions,

“Cast lots for the gal,” replied Tom.
“We've got her, it’s true, but we’re still
to detarminate who’s to have the little
treasure, d’ye see,”

“Ay, ay,” responded the other, “but
there can be no fair casting of lots in the
—— We must have light on the ques-

ion.”

“It isn’& necessary, Ned,” replied Gray,
“we can tell by the feel of the slip who
draws.”

“No, no, none of that!” interrupted
Warren, fiercely. “It must be done fair
and square, or, blow me, if I don’t take’
possession of the lass myself.”

The speaker was a man of gigantic
frame, and evidently not to be trifled®
with. He drew his knife, and his eyes
glared.

“It’s all right,” said Gray, sullenly.
“We’ll build a fire, and then wecan have
plenty of light. I don’t care to fight
about the girl; not that I fear death,
though, for——”

“Oh no, of course not!” interrupted
Warren, with arough laugh. “I notice
there’s no danger of your ever dyin’!
You’ll always contrive to put that off as
long as you can.”

“You may think so if you like,” an-
swered Gray, “but there’s certain laws of
life and death which such as you knows
nothing about. The first of these laws is
self-preservation.”

“And with that law you're mightily
well acquainted,” responded Warren.
“Blow me if I think there’s anybody
better acquainted with it.”

“Thank you,” answered Gray, “you |
won’t pick a quarrel with me to-night;
I’m net ina fighting mood, Unless my
anger is up to the boilin’ point, I never
engage in afray.”

The lip cf the giant curled, and he
thrust his knife into his belt.

“I’m not particularly anxious to be
a-sheddin’ the blood of a fox,” he mut- ~
tered, “so let that end the matter.”

Gray made no reply, but proceeded to
gather the sticks for a fire. Assisted by
his two companions, a merry blaze was
soon leaping up froma spot near the
right bank of the lake.

“It’s most time Smith was here,” said
Spoke, as the slips for drawing were be-
ing ese aa ee :

h,

grave for the carcass.
kind that pretends to be chivalrous.
thinks he won’t have anything to do
with injuring that young widow. Blast
it! what have we todo with chivalry,
especially here.
chivalry, under present circumstances.”

“That’s so!” said Spoke. “There’s no ©
use of——”

He’s one of them —

He ©

We should pocket our —

he'll be along time digging the |

He was interrupted by the sound of ap- 4

ei ptinn footsteps, and the three barely ©

ad time to spring to their feet, ere the —

crew of the quarter-boat, headed by the —

captain himself, rushed toward them.

“What does this mean?” yelled Gray, —

staring aghast at the young skipper.

“Here’s the very man that Smith stabbed 4

to the heart.”

“It does seem like a wonderful mys-
tery!" cried the
his knife—“ but. |

oat Warren, drawing —
ylast meif I’ll be taken ~

without some desp’rit fighting, mystery —

or no mystery.’

Even as he spoke, however, he received —

a blow from the butt of a pistol in the ©

hands of one of the .boat’s crew; and the —
next moment the three ruffians were ly- —

ing
an

ankles fettered with strong cords. ©

helpless upon the ground, their wrists ~

“Now, then, speak!” cried the captain, q

fiercely; “speak at once, and tell me —

what you have done with my wife.”
“As we ain't in a situation to help our-

selves,” answered Spoke, “we may as well —

tell you. She’s in the hut.”

A joyful cry was heard
ment, and a second after the young wife, ©
who had by this time

at that mo- a

recovered her —

senses, was in the arms of her husband. —

a

“Thank Heaven, you are saved!” he —
cried, covering her face with kisses— —
“rescued from the hands of these ruffians.”

“Yes,” she replied, “and you, too, —
Smith plunge the knife into your heart.
“He only pretended to do so,” answered

the skipper, “in order to save me. In re-

ality, he merely ran the knife through my ~

jacket. Afterward he restored me to my —
senses, assisted me to bunt up my bos
crew, and when they had been found,
guided us to this rendezvous.”

“Betrayed!” cried the giant Warren—
“the rascal betrayed us.”

“Ay, ay!” cried Smith, now coming for-
ward, “I know I did. When I joined
you I did not dream that you intended to
commit murder, and insult defenseless
women. Had I known that, you should
never have persuaded me to leave the |
ship with you.” :

We have on
ruffians were conducted to the calaboose

‘and set to work with the “chain

and that the captain, with his ;
crew, his lovely wife, and Harry Smith,
returned tothe ship, a

s

though I'm sure I thought Isaw Harry ~

 
  
  

9 in- te rota ilecia dad
tome
still
little THE ©
“but
n the
ques-
ray,
who @
ipted &
fair @
take
untic §
ifled ie
a q “THE
cae M Ptained of all News Agents.)
nly.
aa ’ CHAPTER XVI.
gh
ath, a THE PURSUIT.
pted & EAVING the Spaniard engaged in
tice ¢| his nefarious work on broad the
‘in’! yacht, we will return to Mr. Good-
fas , I rich and his party. When Jack
, Called their attention to his unexpected
an- @ ;'SCovery, and pointed down the river
's of Where the Marie could be seen rapidly
ows ae oPpearin from view, a horror fell
‘sis P02 the three which rendered them
| Speechless for the moment.
tily # .,.,°Y,glanced from one to the other,
ren. “hog afraid to utter his thoughts until at
ody § 8b the old gentleman, his face white
a. 2pprehension, groaned :
you at—what can this mean? What
cht; ™ —“®S happened?”
my § Sy don’t know,” slowly answered the
sver mpegs, avoiding Mr. Goodrich’s eye;
By 1t looks as if something has oc-
he # oo. Since we left. Do not be alarmed,
; ion fthe mutineers have broken loose
be wil captured the yacht, their triumph
lut- By ill be short-lived, as there are plenty of
* Yessels in port to pursue them.”
to & obt etus find Captain Breeze; we can
by 4in an explanation from him,” sug-
vas Ip 8&Sted George.
the | affii 8; he will know all,” replied the
fe . ee father, rapidly leaving the car
aid be hurrying toward the wharf, followed
be- § thi the others. “My dear friends, if any-
hem’ bas befallen Marie it will break my
the @ -©4rt—it will break my heart.”
em 4 ordon and the young surgeon could
He By no word to comfort him. They
do @ ;°8ted the worst, as both knew there could
ast e No other reason for the vessel sailing
ry, ee ve an outbreak among the prisoners on
yur Sard,
. E bf pad been a fatal mistake on the part
no § Atal | in not sending them ashore immedi-
tad ao arrival in port.’ Jack regret-
ap: +h 18 short-sightedness in not advising
ely pi Owner to that effect, but it was too.
che 3m € for complaints now; only prompt ac-
the @ “02 would redeem the error.
ay ne Station platform was only a short
LY; am ear’ from the water-front, so, after
er, he King a few steps, the party turned the
ed Wi. "ner of a large freight shed and emerged
F tre? docks. The first thing that at-.
ys- eacved their attention was a crowd of
ng a Bevid at the head of the wharf. They were
en a idently excited about something, and
ry 3S our party came into view a man de-
} {2ched himself from the group and ran
ed § “Ward them,
he # we &Y Soon recognized Captain Breeze.
he — ,.. was bare-headed and was out of
y- ee fath, but on reaching them he managed
ts fF Oo gasp;
= 4, he yacht, commodore! Those villains
n, F pb. °, Stolen her and run off with all on
ne a oard |”
= Oh, Breeze! what will we do? Advise
r- ? Some one,” exclaimed Mr. Goodrich,
11 3 fringing his hands in overwhelming dis-
" who... 1 will give my fortune to the one
O- FF ofp oscues my daughter from the hands
e, _ % that murderer.”
er ae hi N reaching the wharf, Jack had cast
dq. all Sye over the vesse:s in harbor. They
1e th looked too clumsy and slow to catch
>; i © Speedy yacht, and he was on the
” . hot of giving up the idea when he saw
0, meargentine torpedo boat noticed that
y= binning. She was partially hidden be- |
a ° he an American schooner, and it was
d Eta, the glint of the sun on her brass
2 _ “Bnel which caused him to recognize her.
y ere was a chance. She must be fast,
y

Se Was &. Bein
e su

such ppose
| chance,
d bring.

    

himself. The

    
  
  
   

_ Words

By “«“ ~

   
  

. 3 - Tecover your dau ” °
Po ghter,” he said simply,
} Pointing toward the to

B can have her for the ask ng.”

    
  

  

 

. “I could have had her a)
rt.”

 

 

[This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form,}

TREASURE OF THE GOLDEN CRATER” was commenced in No. 144.

GooDp

 

 

NEWS.

2379

 

TE GOLDEN:
GRATER

BY LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY,

Author of “Cadet Cary,” “Midshipman Merrill,” “Lieut.\Carey’s Luck,” “Capt. Carey of the Gallant 1h,”
“Kit Carey’s Protege,” etc.

 

Back numbers can be

“Well, there isn’t any time to be
wasted,” interposed Lovering. ‘“ Where
can we get a boat?”

As if in answer to his question a sailor
stepped from the crowd which had col-
lected around them when it became known
they were from the yacht, and, touching
his cap, said in English:

_"I am one of the torpedo boat’s crew,
Sir; and the yawl is moored at the end
of the wharf. If you wish to go on board
I will take you,”

His offer was speedily accepted, and in
avery few minutes the entire party was
en route. A short pull brought them
alongside, where an officer clad in uni-
form met them at the gang-way. On being
told the parport of their errand he immedi-
ately invited them on board and sent be-
low forthecommander. During the mes-
senger’s absence, Jack looked about him,
deeply interested in the novel construc-
tion of the craft. She was a sea-going
torpedo boat of the English Thornycroft
type, and showed her speed in every line
of the hull,

Built after the peculiar shape of such
vessels, with flush decks and curved sides,
offering little resistance to the waves or
wind, she could be easily propelled ata
high rate of speed by her powerful en-
gines, and seemed capable of great en-
durance at sea. The living quarters were
scant, as most of the room was occupied
by machinery and torpedoes, but that item
figured very little in their ‘present wishes.
The middy saw that with such an ally
the thieving Spaniard and his confeder-
ates would soon be compelled to relin-

 

; Probably not less than twenty knots an | a touch of his cap,
8 & Mo which was several more than the an adjacent hatch.

Beet a government vessel, she shovels below, ; :
to render assistance in smoke from the funnel, indicated active

A & case, and the middy knew that preparations for getting under way.
"at commander would be glad of the
if only for the excitement it

© did not k i idea long to after spare tools. i
h nae ae nit seasleness to send after him, so they decided to

e Mr, Goodrich, there is the means to
edo boat. “We

:- lice my gaff! why on ‘arth didn’t I
think 0” i

that?” th kipper,

at?” exclaimed we hee 1 dertone, but the expressions used were fu

quish their stolen property, .and_ he
awaited the coming of her commanding
officer with a fast growing impatience.
At last a young man clad in the uni-
‘form of a lieutenant, emerged from the
| pilot-house and advanced toward them.
| He waS accompanied by another officer,
'and seemed slightly excited. After greet-
ing them politely, he plunged into the
| subject.
| “Is it possible your yacht has been car-
ried away in such an open-handed man-
ner?” he asked, using excellent English;
then, not waiting for a reply, he con-
tinued: “Itseems like a story from an old
romance, But to think that such an out-
'yage could be perpetrated in a. civilized
port, and in this century, is past belief.
the fact remains, and it is neces-
capture the mutineers at all
hazards. I gladly place my vessel at your
disposal, sir, AlllI ask is time enough to
telegraph the minister of marine at
. Buenos Ayres.”

| However,
‘sary to

“Your kindness and generosity shall be
repaid, sir,” replied Mr, Goodrich, grate-
fully. “And when you learn that my
| only daughter, as well as another young
lady, is now on board the yacht, prisoners
of a foul and brutal murderer, you will
understand what your offer means to me.
I care nothing for the vessel; she repre-
sents so much monetary value only; but
| it is my motherless child. Pray do not
delay a moment, sir, as the handling of
such a craft by an inexperienced man like
the Spaniard may result in disaster at
any hour.” ;

When the old gentleman mentioned the
presence of Marie on board the yacht,
Jack saw the chivalrous young officer
give a start of horror. Without stopping
to hear further explanations, he turne
hastily to his companion and issued an

order which the latter acknowledged by
and disappeared down

Presently a rattle of
and the appearance of

Nothing had been seen of Mr. Watts,
the engineer, on shore, and it was prob-
1 able he had gone out to the railroad shops
It would take too long

Bt oO his own deep anxiety caused him to leave a note at the captain of the port’s
' ~™municate the suggestion in a few office.

Captain Breeze had confined his efforts
since coming on board to an open-mouthed
survey of the torpedo boat. He acted
like some amphibious animal out of his
element, and viewed the compact craft
with an tnfriendly eye. Those standing
near could hear him growling in an un-

‘utterly unintelligible, consisting mainly

 

of nautical terms more forcible than ele-
ant.

* “Gentlemen, if you will step below and
acoept the poor hospitality of my cabin,
I will notify you when we are ready to
sail,” said the commander, in friendly
tones, pointing toward a small compan-
ion-way near the stern.

‘The invitation was accepted by all save
Jack, who had taken a liking to their
new acquaintance and wished to remain
on deck with him. After sending a mes-
sage on shore, the officer gave his undi-
vided attention to the duties incidental
to getting up anchor, and soon had the

onderous piece of iron clear of the river

ottom. By this time the engineer re-
ported steam enough for working the en-
gines, and before many minutes the en-
tire party, assembled on the after deck,
noted with extreme satisfaction the com-
mencement of the chase. It had been
noised about the harbor that the torpedo
boat was bound in pursuit of the mutin-
eers, so when she commenced to move
down the river, the whistle of every
steamer in port bade her a. boisterous
bon voyage, and the waving of handker-
chiefs and* prolonged cheers carried a
promise of success to the hearts of all.

 

CHAPTER XVII.

THE CHASE IS SIGHTED,
RST

4 AS any one thought of what we

ai shall do on sighting the Marie?”

asked Lovering, suggestively.
“44 “Remember, she has two ladies on
board, and any violence offered the yacht
will endanger them.”

His question brought out a new phase
of the matter. Preparations for follow-
ing the fugitives had been of paramount
interest until now, and no heed had been
given to subsequent proceedings. It was
high time a plan was formed to capture
the mutineers, without running the risk
of injuring Marie and Manchita. To do
this, required tact and cunning, as the
desperate nature of the Spaniard rendered
a display of force almost useless.

The new dilemma was discussed in all
its bearings while the party descended
the river. Captain Breeze bewailed the
necessity of treating with the villians,
except thigh the agency of a repeating
rifle, and offered as bis opinion that
Juan would not surrender without a ter-
rible struggle.

cg was agreed to by Lovering, who
said:

“This man Lopez has nothing to gain
by giving up. He knows that a trial on
shore for his many misdeeds can result
in nothing less than a long term in

rison, if not death. For that reason he
is very liable to resort to anything.”

“Much as I dislike to show mercy to
such a scoundrel,” put in Jack, quietly,
“vet I really think the best plan will be
to assure him, if we get near enough,
that freedom will be granted to all con-
cerned, if they surrender the yacht and
her passengers. What say you, Mr,
Goodrich?”

The old gentleman gave him a grateful
glance, but his face became very grave
as he replied:

“Tf I listen to the instincts of a parent,
I would do as my young friend here sug-
gests, but duty compells me to devote
every effort to capture the mutineers.
My dear child and Manchita must take
their chances in the coming struggle.
We will try what can be done to per-
suade him to surrender peaceably, but I
am doubtful of a favorable result.”

“Really, sir, I think you would be
justified in allowing them to go free to
secure your daughter’s and Manchita’s
safety,” warmly replied Gordon, furtively
appealing to George for assistance in per-
suading the old gentleman.

“No; I must not turn such a danger-
ous man loose on the world again.
There is a certain duty one owes his fel-
low men, and JI would not be doing that
duty if I failed to secure this human
wolf.”

“Hear, hear, hear!” applauded the skip-
per, gruffily. “Dooty's dooty, as the com-
modore says; but 1 really believe I’d
ruther.see them men go free than have
even a hair of them girls’ heads injured.”

“Your sentiment does you credit, cap-
tain,” chimed in Lovering, clapping the
old sailor on the back. “It shows that
the salt has not pickled that big heart of

ours.” Then, turning to Mr. Goodrich,

e continued: “I am afraid you will have
to give in, sir. I must confess that I
agree with Jack and the skipper. You
also owe a duty to the girls, and that
should be paramount. When wecatch up
with the yacht; as we must in a short
time, I think it will be best to hoist a flag
of truce, showing that we wish to speak
with Lopez. Then, if he refuses to stop,
we can easily run alongside, with our
superior speed, and speak him, anyway.”

“What kind of weepons has this here
craft?” asked Captain Breeze, thought-

lly.
of think she carries a Nordenfeldt ma-

 

chine gun, but it is not mounted,” re-
plied the middy; “but why do you ask?”

“Well, that Lopez might take it into
his head to load the Marie’s salutin’ gun
with pieces of iron an’ fire on us,”

“That is so,” interrupted the old gen-
tleman in a startled voice; “I never
thought of that.”

“We must provide for such an emerg-
ency,” said Jack, rising to his feet, “I
am going to talk with the commander,
and ask him to make as much of a show
of force as possible. He can mount his
machine guns in less than an hour. I think
they work on tripods which are shipped
in the deck, and if he has all the pasts,
it will be an easy task.”

“I think I will go with you, Jack,”
spoke up Lovering, following the middy,
“and take a look around. We will soon
be out of the river at this rate of speed,
and then the fun will commence.”

“That’s Solis Point over there, boys,”
the skipper called after them, indicatin
a peculiar formation on the bank with
a wave-of his hand. “Nine miles from
the sea. We ought to make it in forty
minutes at the most. Tell that Argen-
tine officer to hurry up with his guns, as
I expect we will sight the yacht after
leaving the river.”

They found the lieutenant in the con-
ning tower, directing the wheelman. It
was barely large enough for two, so Jack
and the young surgeon stood outside and
conversed with him through the open
door. The middy explained in a very few
words what they anticipated on sight-
ing the Spaniard, and the necessity of
displaying as much foree as_ possible.
When the commander was told that
Lopez might use the small brass cannon
on .board the yacht, his eyes glistened,
and he rubbed his hands in evident ex-
pectation of warm work.

“Yes, I have two machine guns down
below,” he replied toa question of Jack’s.
“They haven’t been mounted on account of
an order from the department requiring
them sept out of the open air until
needed. It will only take a short time to
get them sean :

“Have you the necessary ammunition?”

“Oh, yes! two hundred pounds. Knough
to sink a dozen yachts. Do you think we
will have a chance to use the guns?”

“T hope not, sir,” replied Jack, gravely.
“Mr. Goodrich’s daughter and another
ee are on board.”

“TI beg your pardon,” exclaimed the
young lieutenant, “I had forgotten that.
No; it would never do to fire on her in
that case. But I suppose you wish to use
several blank charges to try and frighten
them ?”

“Yes; I think he will see we mean bus-
iness when he hears the report of a gun,
but I have very little hope he will sur-
render. A man who has committed a
triple murder in cold blood, and mutinied
on the high seas, is desperate enough to
do anything. I am afaid he will commit
some terrible act when he sights us,”

While Jack was speaking the com-
mander had given orders to mount the
rifles, Several sailors soon appeared from
below carrying the different parts. The
bodies of the guns were too heavy to bring
up the narrow ladder, so they were
hoisted up the forward hatch with block
and tackle. The second lieutenant took
charge of the work, and before many
minutes had them in readiness. One was
mounted just forward of the conning
tower, and the other aft on the quarter.

By the time this was finished the mouth
of the river could be seen a few miles dis-
tant. Mr. Goodrich and the skipper now
joined the others, and every one remained
silent fora time. All felt that. the mo-
mentous period was near at hand. The
old gentleman stood to one side, his face
anxious and care-worn. A few more
hours and the fate of his child would be
known. Jack glanced sorrowfully at
him and his clenched hands boded ill
for the cause of all the trouble.

Marie’s winsome face never seemed so
fair as now when she was in such peril,
and as he recalled the kindly manner in
which she had bidden him good-by that
morning, a lump came in his throat, and
his eyes grew moist from manly emotion.

As they drew nearer the sea a dread
came over them—a dread that the yacht
would have disappeared. She had not
left more than an hour before the torpedo
boat, which, at their different rate of
sailing, would place them only a few
miles apart, so if she was not in sight on
leaving the river, something must have

ere
ith every turn of the screw, their
anxiety grew more intense, until at last
Mr. Goodrich felt so overcome that he
walked aft and sat down, relying on the
others to convey the news. The crew of
the torpedo boat had learned of their des-
tination, and were now grouped forward
of the hatch, highly interested. They
seemed a hardy set of man-of-war’s men,
and Jack realized that if it came to act-
ual fighting the mutineers would not
last five minutes before them,

At last a long line of white-capped
waves appeared in sight, revealing the

?

  
 

 

2380

CGrooD NEWS.

 

presence of the bar at the mouth of the
stream. A few minutes later and only a
series of wooded heights shut off the
view—then, the sharp steel prow of the
torpedo boat entered the sea; and there,
in plain view toward the south, was the
steam yacht Marie, her rakish hull lift-
ing to the swell with graceful motions,

An involuntary cheer came from the
lips of all, and Jack, in his enthusiasm,
tossed his cap high in the air.

The lieutenant said something to an
officer standing near, and presently the
loud report of a blank charge echoed over
the waters.

It was apparently unnoticed by those
on board the chase. No sign of bunting
could be seen, but instead, a dense column
of black smoke came from her funnel,
and the course was slightly altered.

“They are edging toward the land!” ex-
claimed the middy, leveling a spy-glass
he had taken from the conning tower.

“T’ll eat a mainsail if the miserable
skunk isn’t a-goin’ to run her ashore!”
broke in Captain Breeze, excitedly danc-
ing around the narrow deck. “Oh! if I
only had these here hands on him, I'd
choke his luff in two turns of a wheel!”

Mr. Goodrich appeared at this moment,
and catching the words, turned to the
speaker, pale with horror. He essayed
to speak, but the words stayed in his
throat, and he walked away again, wring-
ing his hands.

In the meantime the lieutenant had
seen the maneuver, and calling on the
engine-room for every possible ounce of
steam, signified his intention of slipping
between the yacht and the shore,

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
THEFT OF THE PAPERS.

eT will be rather dangerous,” he ad-
| mitted, surveying the coast with a

pair of powerful binocles; “but we

draw much less water than she does,
and it is worth trying, anyway. I will
fire another charge when we get a little
nearer, and if that don’t have any effect,
we will head them off.”

They had now crept close enough to dis-
tinguish figures on the Marie’s deck, and
the appearance of Lopez on the bridge
clad in a uniform belonging to Captain
Breeze, aroused that worthy old salt’s
ire to such an extent that he fairly bub-
bled over, His vocabulary of strained
oaths seemed unlimited, and he poured
them forth in an endless stream.

Jack also felt his choler rising at the
sight of that figure. He did not indulge
in verbal pyrotechnics, but his thoughts
were scarcely mild, and he would have
willingly given a year’s pay to have the
fellow at hand.

Another round was fired from the for-
ward gun, and those watching saw Lopez
hurriedly climb down the bridge ladder,
but he was up again almost instantly,
and then they noticed several of the mu-
tineers drag the small brass saluting
howitzer from its place near the bow.

It was carried aft to the starboard
quarter, and secured to one of the haw-
ser bitts. That they meant to fire on
their pursuers was ae proven by the
actions of the men. One brought a small
canvas bag of powder which he rammed
into the gun, while others were seen
coming with what seemed pieces of iron,

“This is growing serious,” exclaimed
Lovering, lowering his glass and turning
to Jack with a comical look of disinay.
“The beggars are going to pot us if they
can. I confess I don’t like being a target
without the power of striking back. If
Ihad a good rifle I think I could keep
those blood-thirsty villains away from
that gun.” —

“A rifle; aoe there are scores of them
on board,” replied the middy. “I'll get
one for you, George, and you can try the
scheme. I think, if you hit one of them,
it will have a wholesome effect on the
others.”

Hurrying away, Gordon secured a Mar-
teni-Henri, with several rounds of am-
munition, and handed the weapon to Lov-
ering. The young surgeon had made
quite a reputation on board the Wampum
as a sharp-shooter. Long practice had
rendered him very proficient at a target,
and it now stood him in good stead.

The distance betwcen the two vessels
had gradually lessened until, by the time
George was ready to try his skill, they
were not more than eight hundred yards
apart. The mutineers were still actively
engaged in preparing the howitzer for
‘use. Three or four of them stood working
round it, and Lopez could be seen di-
recting them from the bridge.

The opportunity seemed favorable, and
Govering was just lifting the rifle to an
aim when. the old gentleman, who had
been watching his preparations, asked
him to wait a moment.

“Weare near enough for them to hear
my voice, and I am going to speak to
Lopez,” he said, hurriedly. “T wish to
try every chance before resorting to vio-

passed to him, he applied it to his lips
and shouted:

“Ahoy, the yacht!”

The Spaniard looked around at the
sound, but contemptuously shaking his
fist in their direction, refused to answer.
Mr. Goodrich turned away with a sigh
and walked aft. Regarding the action as
a tacit permission, George again leveled
his rifle, and taking careful aim, pulled
the trigger.

The spiteful report was followed by a
faint cry of pain, and one of the mutin-
eers was seen to throw up his arms and
stagger back. The effect was salutary,
however. Not stopping to finish loading
their howitzer, the rest of the crew ran
forward and disappeared from view, leav-
ing their wounded comrade on the deck.

“Bully!” shouted Captain Breeze, danc-
ing about in high glee. “That fetched
‘em. Now, can’t you shoot that grinning
dago on the bridge? But, hold on, Lover-
ing, hit him in the top-hamper, I don’t
wan’t them clothes spoiled,”

Holding the still smoking weapon in
his hands, George waited to see what
the Spanaird would do. He secretly re-
solved *to disable him next, if he ob-
tained a chance, and it was but a very
short time before the opportunity came.
» At first, on seeing one of his men shot,
the chief mutineer stood gazing on the
deck, apparently aghast; then, uttering
a cry of rage, he jumped. down the lad-
der and rushed aft, followed by one of
the men. Instantly divining their inten-
tion, Lovering took rapid aim and fired.
It was a miss. They kept on and had al-
most reached the gun, when the young
surgeon’s rifle again rang out. To the
joy of the watchers on the torpedo boat,
the Spaniard was observed to grasp his
right arm frantically, and reel against
the other man.

The bullet had found a billet!
However, the undoubtedly painful
wound did not check him, and George
prepared to fire a second time, when sud-
denly the yacht careened over and re-
mained stationary. Shehadrun aground!
In an instant all was confusion on
board. Men poured out of the forecastle
and engine-room, and joining Lopez,
stood waving their hands toward the
other vessel as if imploring assistance,
In the meantime the later had shot past,
and was some distance away before the
engines could be stopped. Then circling
around, she steamed slowly toward the
disabled craft.

In the excitement of the chase they had
approached very near the coast, and now
it was seen that the white sandy line de-
noting the beach could not be more than
half a mile distant. It was well the Ar-
gentine vessel drew less water, else she
would have also struck, As it was, her
commander felt anxious until he ran back
into deeper soundings,

Where the Marie lay was apparently a
shoal spot entirely under the surface,
and giving no warning of its presence.
Whether she was injured remained to be
proven. If the bottom was. soft or of
yielding sand, it would be an easy mat-
ter to float her again, but if the forma-
tion consisted of rock, some of the hull
plates must have been broken. In that
case she would probably prove a total
wreck,

Meanwhile an effort was evidently be-
ing made on board the yacht to lowera
boat. Lopez could be seen issuing orders
right and left, and in obedience to his
commands the quarter-boat soon floated
alongside. The weather was still mild,
and very little sea delayed them.
Running as close as he dared, the young
lieutenant hailed the mutineers and
ordered them to come to the torpedo boat.
Then rigging out a light yawl carried
amidships he infoymed Mr. Goodrich that
it was at his disposal. The old gentle-
man had noticed the absence of the two
girls from the deck with varying emo-
tions. It might mean either good or
evil, but hope bade him believe they had
found protectors in the two servants.
Accompanied by Jack he jumped into
the yaw! and started for the stranded
yacht. Just as they pulled away from
the side, a shout on’ deck caused them
to look up. Lovering was standing near
the conning tower pointing toward the
Marie’s boat.

“They have turned toward the beach,”
he said, excitedly waving his hand.
“They can never land in that surf.”
“Come back, ye blamed fools!” roared
Captain Breeze, from near the bow. But
with the exception of a derisive shout,
they paid no heed, and swept steadily on
to where a mass of foaming white-canped
waves could be seen beating with sullen
force on the shore.

“What will. we do?\asked Mr. Good-
rich, following the boat's progress with
wrapt attention.

“Let them go,” replied Jack, setting his
teeth and quietly directing the yawl’s
crew torow on. “Their blood be on their
own heads, If they are drowned, it will
be a fitting fate. Anyway, we could not
stop them now.”

dered the men to rest on their oars, and,
together with the old gentleman, watched
the fleeing mutineers with intense inter-
est. The latter evidently thought they
were choosing the leser evil. Certain
punishment awaited them if captured,
and by attempting to pass the surf, they
had some chance of escaping. They were
now desperate enough to run any risk.
The yacht aground, their pursuers close
at hand, and an Argentine government
officer in command, betokened hopeless
ruin to their plans,

As they approached the beach the deep
booming of the breakers must have
frightened them, because they were seen
to bring the bow around as if trying to
pull away, but it was too late. Caught
in the grasp of a merciless undertow,
they were swept with resistless force
into the midst of the boiling waters, and
ge ee

or 42 moment several struggling forms
could be distinguished on the crest of a
gigantic wave, then they, too, disap-
peared, swallowed up by the remorseless
sea,

Lovering, from his position on the
torpedo boat, watched patiently witha
pair of powerful binocles to see if any
one had escaped, but could discern noth-
ing, except a dark object lying on the
sand close to the edge of the surface.
As it did not move he at last concluded
it was only a piece of drift wood, and
turned away.

Filled with horror at the tragic scene,
Jack and Mr. Goodrich resumed their
trip to the yacht. It did not take them
long to scramble on deck, and rushing
aft, they quickly descended to the saloon.

“Marie, Marie! are you here?” called
out the old gentleman, anxiously.

A glad cry sounded from forward, and
the tivo girls, followed by Sam and the
cook, came running toward them. Not
far behind was the Newfoundland dog,
Shag, who, leaping on the middy, almost
bore him to the deck. Marie threw her-
self into her father’s arms and sobhed
with joy, while Manchita stood close by,
half crying and half laughing in her ex-
citement.

The exuberance of the two negroes
caused them to dance back and forth on
the soft carpeted floor, uttering fervant
expressions of thankfulness, which, under
other circumstances, would have been
highly ludicrous, After several minutes
of mutual explanation, Jack went on deck
to signal the torpedo boat, leaving Mr,
Goodrich in the saloon. Taking a hand-
kerchief he cOmmenced “wig-wagging”
to Lovering, but before he had trans-
mitted two words, the old gentleman
rushed after him, and in a voice filled
with excitement, exclaimed: “

“It is gone! The mutineers have stolen
our plans of the treasure cavern |”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
———_—_—___-~- ¢- >.

A LINK FROM A CHAIN.

BY WALTER F. JEFFERS.

——— e ———

NE day while sitting in our
chief’s office in Cincinnati a dis-
patch came calling for a detective

4 to go to H., then asmall town
about twenty miles south. As our
chief would not be present for
three or four hours I determined to an-
swer in person. In a short time I was
speeding southward as fast as steam
could carry me, after leaving a note in
the office explaining my absence,

A three hours’ journey brought me to
H., where I sought the squire, as it was
that gentleman who had sent for me. He
informed me of ashocking double mur-
der that had been committed there the
night before.

An old couple living alone on the out-
skirts of the village, and reputed to keep
considerable money in their house, had
been murdered, and the house set on fire,
that all traces of the murder might be
removed.

After carefully examining the prem-
ises I found in the lower part of the gar-
den, hanging to a stout bush, a piece of
a watch-chain about two inches long. of
a peculiar pattern, and I concluded that
the person who owned the chain was the
guilty party.

For nearly four months I worked on the
case without success, and getting dis-
couraged, was on the point of giving it
up altogether, when a reward of five
hundred dollars, offered by the authori-
ties of H., made me stick'to it a little
longer,

One day, having some private business
to transact. I went to another small
town about thirty miles west of H., and
after finishing my business I found T had
to wait nearly four hours for the train.
To pass the time I took a walk around
the village, and while so doing I passed
a school-house out of which the scholars
were just coming, and as they started a
game of base-ball, I stood for a few min-

 

a tall, dark-looking man went by, @
one of the boys, in answer to m
quiry, told me it was a Mr, Hilton, th
new teacher. Of course there was now
ing strange in that, but somehow If
as if I should learn more about him, a
this feeling grew so strong on met
I concluded to stay a few days in the ¥
lage and try,and make his acquaintan®

Accordingly, I put up at the villaf
hotel, and that evening formed theé
quaintance of a youth of eighteen @
thereabout, at whose house the teach
was stopping. As the boy was intel
gent, I thought the best thing I could
was to take him partially into my
fidence, and accordingly I did, promisi”
him a large pecuniary reward if my si
picions proved correct.

He promised to aid me and keep#
own counsel,

Now, perhaps it may seem strange til
I should put aman down for a murdél
at a single glance, but it is a part of

ES

   
  
   
    
  
    

  
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
     
   
  
   
   
  
  
 
   

descendants are found among ths m@

  

 

 

 

lence,”
Taking a trumpet the lieutenant had

After getting clear of the side he or-

utes watching them. While so doing,

 

honorable citizens of that commonwealth

    

 
 

   

Vu

EXILI

detective’s business to take in at a glang ®0d th
everything, and by the single glam S00n a
I gave Mr. Hilton while he was passing YOUr s
Isaw a chain extending a little belo} YOU v
his vest and at times entirely conceal ara.
by it. I recognized the chain as of tH ., th
same pattern as the piece I had in m Tice, b
pocket, and that alone formed the groun§ Mind ;
of my suspicion. eard
Next day, by appointment, I met the Sorry
again, and after a long talk we decid Ther
that he should let me into the house th 28 tha
evening and secrete me in a room ag ‘tere
joining the teacher’s, from which I cot Phil
watch his movements. Accordingly, tha BOothir
night I stole up to the house through tp *4se it
garaen, and was met by the boy, wif I
hurried me_ through the now deserté Lieut
kitchen and up a back stairs to a room Your
where he left me, after telling me  8°Vver
would rejoin me when all the fami 1°, co
had retired. } Wigin
In about an hourI heard footsteps a *Scert
cending the stairs and going into # Mines
teacher’s room, and in about ten minut@ Shirty
afterward the boy rejoined me, and hb eme.
first movement was to call my attenti@j *0T yo
toaray of light shining through a bom Ce )
in the wall. On applying my eye to ify *acke
beheld the teacher, with his ‘back t Cds.
ward me, seated in a chair reading, 9 Meet
Presently he arose, and after taking ® As |
his coat and vest, he turned in such! the p,
way that I could see the chain, and they Chane
Iknew it was exactly of the same pag Ward
tern as the piece I had. Bg Motic
His next movement was a _ surprisif Eeeent
one. He deliberately removed his lof im,
whiskers and wig, and then I recognizé WwW
him as Mike Daly, a noted confidend) Ph l
man of St. Louis, a pau,
I whispered to my companion to Joy ‘ce
also, which he did, and then in retum Prtese
asked what I intended to do. I told hig the 1
I would remain all night in the hou they?
and arrest him in the morning while t X
his way to school. here
In the morning, about three o’clock, t old |
boy let me out, without disturbing all ed
of the family, aud I remained in a wo Tom
near the road until I heard the teach bout
coming, accompanied by four or five | re
the scholars, 0 ta’
I stepped out leisurely into the ros of Ke
and strutted along as if I were enjoyif h The
the morning air. Opel
When I came up he nodded and said: ad a
“Geod morning, Mr. Clark.” Bote t
“Good morning, Mr. Daly.” Hy
He started violently, but recovered hinh © Ned
self, and said, with a laugh: pas
“T think you mistake my name.” spo:
“Oh, no,” I answered, of make no mi The
take, You are Mike Daly, and I arreg Were
you for the murder of Thomas Gray al ne
his wife,” at the same time laying om °° th
hand on his shoulder ‘and with the otb an of
displaying my badge. outsi
e muttered a curse, and tried om |
draw a pistol, but I anticipated such! tn tl
movement, and with a quick turn three cot
him ‘on the ground and slipped the hang ut tf
cuffs on him. He made no more resist tenet
ance, and we left for Cincinnati by tlt How
noon train, where I lodged my prison@f (tem
in the city jail to await trial, e diel Omr
however, before his trial came off, but 2g” meh
confessed to the murder, saying he hé ve
an accomplice who fled to the Eastevg: ia
States. I got the five ‘hundred dollayge oP n
and praise for what was consider@y . ty pe
great shrewdness, but what was in reé cc
ity great luck, Page
ee wie
e : 10]
POCAHONTAS, 8qna
—~ Bree:
Pocahontas was married. to John Rolféf lowe
an Englishman of good family and edt Wom
cation, in April, 1613, by a clergym@ hre¢
named Whittaker, at Jamestown. : at
and her hushand went to England in 1614§- Gren
and when thev and their son were abowg Cles ,
to return to Virginia, she was seized wittt eS ha
smallpox at Gravesend, and died there ¥ bare
June, 1617. Her remains were place Ee “as
the parish church-vard in that place. Bé ? th
son, Thomas Rolfe, afterward becam@;f “Om:
distinguished man in Virginia, and -  20n,

  
   

went by,
rer to m

*. Hilton, tha
here was now
Omehow | fi

bout him,

a

ng on me th

acquaintand
ut the villag
ormed theé
f eighteen @
e the teaciil
y was intel

ing I couldé
y into my ed
lid, promisill
ard if my sit

and keep i

1 strange thi
or a murde
1s a part OF
in at a glang
ingle glail

was passil
u little belo
ely conceal

ain as of
I had in

| the groun

I met theb

k we decid&
1e house thi

& room 4

Thich T cou

rdingly, th
through

1@ boy, wif
ow deserté
's to a room
ling me f

nt Tice,

the fami

‘ootsteps a
1g into

ten minut@

ne, and J
ly attentio

ough a how

y eye toi
Ss back ff
ding,
rtaking®
in such!
n, and the
e same pa

surprisiff,

1 his Jol
recognize
con

n to Job
in retuf
I told hil
the ho
‘ while

"clock, t
rbing ab
in a wo
le teach
or five ©

the roal
enjoyiff

nd said:

ered hint -

le,” ;
-e no mi
IT arreM
Gray ang
ying om
the otb

tried
d such

rn thre
che han@
‘e resis
si by th
risoné
e diet
oa F
gg 1e a" a
» Easter
1 dollaty
nsideré
in rea

  
  
 
 
 
   
      
  

   
  
  
    
  

 
     
 

  

    
    
       
    
    
     
  
    
  
    
     
 

  

de “

Motioned him
Stant the door
him.

   
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
  
  

(“EXILED TO SIBERIA” was commenced in No. 146. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

cs

and th

800n as h
YOur sentence has

e~66 oT
Mind
8

he t}

HAVE been fortunate,” sai
tenant Brosky, in a grave
“Grodno was shot outside of the
moments ago,
urk will suffer the same fate as
e can be moved to Tomsk, but'
been commuted, and
ce will go instead to the mines of
a.’

GOOD

(This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.]

EXILED TO SIBERIA;

VLADIMIR SARADOFF’S ORIME.

lays in the my

 

BY WM. MURRKAY*GRAYDON,
Author of ‘‘Commodore Frank.”

 

 

CHAPTER X.
THE RIOT AT IRKUTSK.

ockade but a few
eT

he mines of Kara,” exclaimed Mau-
blankly, and for the inoment, as his
reverted to what he had read and
€ard of that dread place, he felt half
Orry that their lives had been spared,

hen came a revulsion of feeling, and
lanked the lieutenant warmly for his

intercession,

Phil, to whom the mines of Kara meant
Nothing, fairly broke down, and was pro-

Use in his gratitude.

Lieute:

0 con

riginal
ascertain
if ©=Mines,

thirty

amute your punishment.

member that what I have done

or you
ance w
tacked
ends,

meet a

the
Chance

Ward j

“We
Our liy

Sold mines that belong t .
nd are nearly two thousand niiles
ab ere. That’s all I care to say

Out them,” and in spite of Phil’s
fntreaties,
to tal
of Ka

from h

hope]
and
ing
into
tied

n > @ o
at ah

i]

Present

1@ mi
they 2”

x
there,”

“

They

th

Were th

- armed
t

0 their

As the lieutenant turned to leave
Prison, Maurice, seeing his last

» 48 Maurice threw
ace dow

k
ra

€ssness in the Tomsk prison,
at daybreak on the third morn-
they were rudely turned out

portance
1e delay was brief.

is in return for your assist-
hen those two ruffians at-
me.. Here our intercourse
It is not likely that we shall
gain.”

Slipping away, sprang for-
ey but the officer
ack, and in an in- i
had closed behind ;

Ought to be thankful that
es have been saved,” said
himself,
nward, on the bed, and
ly he asked: “Where are
nes of Kara, and what are |

will know when we reach

said Maurice. “They are. |
0 the Czar, |

Maurice firmly refused

any more about the mines

spent two daysof gloom and

€ inclosure, which was half

with wretched exiles, wait- 4

rently, for some event of
Cc .

The large gates
rown open, and between lines of

soldiers, the convicts, answering

names, which were called out by

et officer with a book in his hand, passed

Ntside
m
On

7

0
this

the Rus

se

on

ut tive

‘ou

Com ps
The

1eim,

any of

Tee

Us kj
a dy

Who]

t
a
qa
c
0

is 3 ba

Tomsk

Re ly,
At las

Breen
lo

Women
th ’

Wed

r

na br
ren ca
les of
f hale

Reape

'N Wagons, and w
Peddlers ar

ly in through the

€ col
{nad of

oken lines of soldi
€ sick, and the very small chil-
me next, riding in telegas—a spe-
ara wagon—and a sullen convoy
a

each man receiving at the gatea
money equivalent to ten cents.
they must subsist two days, as
Sian government allows its exiles
cents a day while on the march.
Oys almost forgot their own
in the pitiful sights around

for many of the prisoners were ac-
anied by wives and children.

€ exile party was speedily made up.
extra clothes and baggage which

the convicts possessed were piled
hile this was going
and peasant women crowded
uards, with vari-
ds of food, which was bought up

t came the order to start, and the
umn was quickly in motion.

Cossacks, in their handsome
niforms, led off, and were fol,

by the disorderly throng of men-

between

and children ae t
ers. Theinfirm

ozen Cossacks, guarding the

Wagons, with their loads of gray

8s, bron
iene ght up the rear.

’

n, and

Ys turned once for a last look at

already fast fading on the hori-

thea, with faces pale and stern

d, Lieu-

voice,

id no morethan my duty,” said
lant Brosky, coldly. “1 believed
your story, and stated my belief to the
Bovernor of the province. He was pleased
Your
sentence, which I promised to!
for you, was ten years at thejselves that the
That has now been increased to| past was not all a
years, So you can face the worst.'dream—that they

they marched away to the eastward,

where thousands march every year—never

to return.

The period of suffering and misery that

began with the departure from Tonisk al-
|most defies description. Day after day
they. trudged on, living on the scanty

| able to purchase, and sleeping at night
in foul, crowded exile  station-houses
which are built along the road at inter-
vals of from thirteen to twenty miles.

Every third day they rested, and these
halts the boys soon learned to regard
with uncontrollable horror, for during
the whole twenty-four hours they re-
mained shut up in the close, unhealthy
station-houses, ;

Thus spring passed into summer, and
summer turned to autumn, and still the
exile party pressed
wearily forward,
leaving many of }
their number at
different points
along the route.

There were times
when the boys
found it difficult
to convince them-

 

LAT fii
Gf, JA BM

a

‘food that their meager allowance was

 

NEWS.

long it seems since we left home,” he
added, sadly.

Phil made no reply. Heraised his sleeve
and brushed away the tears which were
rolling down his pale cheeks.

The mournful penceee en moved on rap-
idly, attracting but little attention from
the people.

The central portion of the city was soon
left behind, and they entered a more
squalid neighborhood, with dark, narrow
streets and gloomy, dingy houses. The
sidewalks now appeared to ve more
crowded, and from the attitude of the
people it seemed as though something un-
usual was going on.

Multitudes of peasants in red silk and
black velvet trousers, surged to and fro,
singing and shouting either from excite-
ment or intoxication, probably the lat-
ter, for on every street corner was a ped-
dler’s stall where the fiery vodka was be-
ing sold by the glass or the bottle.

“It’s a holiday of some kind,” whis-
pered Maurice, “the shops are all closed,
and the people are dressed up in their

est.”

At that moment the exiles were halted
in a small square, surrounded by unusu-
ally squalid houses, and instantly an
eager and curious crowd had hemmed
them in. They were pressed against the

soldiers, who tried in vain to drive them
back on the sidewalk.

A commotion was now heard in front,
and mingled with the shouts of the peo-
ple, the hoys could distinguish rude

 

  
    
   
  
 

“STRIKE, LAD, STRIKE!” HE SHOUTED TO MAURICE; “DO YOUR BEST.”

had ever known a brighter, fairer country
than this desolate Siberia, and then again
there were occasions when the past be-
came al} too realistic and vivid, and the
remembrance of their hopeless condition
and of Vladimir Saradoff’s crime sank
into their hearts like heated iron.

The boys suffered much from the chill-
ing rains and cold winds that came with
the early autumn, and many a weary
mile they marched with dripping gar-
ments flapping about their aching limbs.

It was on a crisp, cool, September even-
ing that Irkutsk was reached, and the
sun was setting lightly on the white
walls and golden domes of this powerful
capital of Eastern Siberia, when the boys
crossed the river on a pendulum ferry-
boat and entered the streets of the
city.

The party now numbered scarcely a hun-
dred, many died on the way, and many
had been left at different points on the
route.

Those remaining were either political
prisoners or belonged to the most despe-
rate grade of criminals.

To reach the prison, the party were
compelled to cross a section of the city,
and the boys were amazed to see the
broad, well paved streets, the imposing
buildings, the shop windows, filled with
articles of luxury, and the well-dressed
people who occupied the sidewalks.

“Tt seems like a dream,” observed Mau-
rice to his companion; “TI cannot believe

 

- American city this is, Phil, and how

that we are in Siberia. How like an

music and a hollow beating of drums,
An officer galloped along the line, shout-
ing fiercely:

“Drive the scoundrels from the square;
force your way through with swords and
bayonets !”

The Cossacks made an immediate at-
tempt to obey this order, for the column
pushed forward a few yards only to come
to a dead halt again between the surging
crowds.

The boys were near the front of the
column, and looking over the heads of
their companions, they could see a golden
image mounted on a pole, and strange
looking banners jammed in among the
people.

“This is a religious festival of some
kind,” said Maurice, “and those stupid
Cossacks have blundered right into it on
their way to the psec

From the crowding and pushing going
on in front, it looked as though the mob
were disputing the passage of the pris-
oners.

The outcry was loud and violent, and
the commands of the officers with diffi-
culty reached the ears of their men,

A close watch was kept on the convicts,
and the soldiers threatened with sword
and bayonet the excited mob who pressed
against them. :

Amid all this tumult the convicts
maintained the same sullen demeanor,
some gazing stupidly on the ground,
others carelessly scanning the faces of
the people.

 

 

2ssil1

a middle-aged man, with a light beard
and mustache. He had accompanied the
party from Tomsk, and his name was
Paul Platotf. This was ali that the boys
knew concerning him, for, alibough his
refined appearance had tempted them on
more than one occasion to make his ac-
quaintance, the recollection of their pie-
vious experience always checked them
in the act. Turning half round, Maurice
saw that this Platoff was gazing into
the crowd with an expression of intense
excitement on his features. Had he pec-
ognized some friend or acquaintance
among the people, or was he meditating
a sudden escape, basing his hopes on
the hostile attitude displayed toward
the soldiers, and the murmurs of pity for
the fettered convicts?

As these thoughts passed through Mau-
rice’s mind, the command to march was
thundered out by the officer, and the
head of the line began to struggle through
the now sundered 1anks of the procession,

As the men in front of him began to
move, Maurice turned for another Jook
at Platuff, and on that very instant the
convict sprang from the line, wrenched
the gun from the grasp of the nearest
soldier, and swinging it savagely round
his head, plunged in among the people,
who made no eflort to prevent his escape.

Quick as was this daring deed, it did
not escape the guards, and half a dozen
Cossacks, from as many different points
along the line, raised their rifles, end
fired at Platoff’s retreating form, ignor-
ing the people entirely in their
eagerness to arrest the fugitive. The
scene that ensued terrified the boys,
Cries of pain followed the rifle fire,
and as the smoke partially cleared,
four motionless boaies were seen ly-
ing in the dusty road. Paul Platoff
was not among them. He had van-
ished in the crowd. The sight of
these innocent victims changed the
hostile feelings of the people toa
furor of madness.

A Russian mob isalways merciless
and cruel, always regards a soldier
or a gendarme as a born enemy, and
now, with snouts of rage that were
caught up and re-echeod from every
corner of the square, the riotous
peasantry closed in on the little
group of exiles and soldiers,

For an instant bayonets andswords
flashed, and the foremost of the
rioters perished by cold steel, but
those behind pressed on more fu-
riously than ever.

The situation became critical in
the extreme. The troops, few in
number as it was, were scattered
along the iines, and being unable
to concentrate, were wholly at the
mercy of the mob. The tumult was
deafening, and with the savage and
frenzied yells of the rabble mingled
the occasional crack of a rifie or a
clash of steel. Up in front the ad-
vance guard of Cossacks were mak-
ing a brave stand, and the rear
guard, too, were apparently holding
their own; but along the straggled
line the soldiers were going down
one by one, and missiles of every
description were falling thickly
among the panic-stricken convicts,

Something round and black, with
. smoking fire, fell at Maurice’s
eet.

“Back! back!” he cried, frantic-
ally clutching Phil by the shoulder,
and as they turned to flee a ter-
rific explosion shook the ground and

 

Jared flash briefly lit up the scene of

carnage.

CHAPTER XI.
STORMING THE WRONG CITADEL.

HE explosion of the bomb—for such
‘ P it undoubtedly was—threw Maurice
7) with stunning force to the ground,
. and when he staggered to his feet,
dizzy and blinded, he believed at first
that he was badly injured,

When the smoke and dust cleared away
partially, he forgot his own pain in the
misery around him. ‘Two or three of the
convicts lay on the ground groaning pite-
ously. The bomb had done dreadful ex-
ecution—and not among those for whom
it was intended, for the guards had es-
caped the flying fiagments of iron and
glass,

Phil lay among the injured, his face
and hair stained with blood. Maurice
bent over him in alarm.

“Phil, Phil,” he cried, “speak to me!
are you hurt?” Then, as no answer came,
he seized the wounded boyin his arms
and staggered backward with his burden,
The excitement had now reached the
highest pitch. The mob, inflamed stil]
more by the unintentional injury done the
exiles, pressed forward against the few
remaining soldiers,

The whole square was jammed with
the furious: combatants. The Cossacks
fought well, using hayonets and sabers

 

Directly behind Maurice and Phil, stood

with deadly effect, but against such des-

   
a382

 

perate numbers, their bravery was of no
avail, and many of them fell under the
volley of cobblestones, clubs, bricks, and
what other missiles the rioters could lay
their hands on.

The rapid approach of darkness made
the scene still more dreadful, and as the
prisoners realized their situation, and
saw the discomfiture of their guards,
many of them broke from the lines and
vanished in the crowd.

The intense excitement gave to Maurice
almost superhuman strength, and Phil’s
unconscious body seemed an easy burden,
as he bore it tenderiy into the center of
the lines, where the chance of safety
from the flying missiles was best. There
he paused irresolutely for a moment.
The sullen roar of the mob rang in his
ears; an occasional red flash lit up the
gloom, and the terror-stricken wretches
around him were beginning to flee in all
directions.

No attempt was made to check them.
The few remaining soldiers were busily
engaged in fighting for their lives.

As Maurice still hesitated, whether to
remain where he was or to trust to the
tender mercies of the mob, the situation
changed with appalling suddenness. A
terrific report echoed over the square—
a report that was _ instantly succeeded by
eries of fright and pain—and the riotous
mob, quick to recognize the crash of artil-
lery, fell into a hopeless panic, and fled
in confusion, Toward the four approaches
of the square they surged, shouting,
trampling each other under foot, and still
the vengeful cannon sent its iron mes-
sengers tearing among them.

Retainiug his presence of mind, and
clinging to Phil with all his might,
Maurice was swept into the thick of the

struggle. Jostled, squeezed, and bruised,
--he was carried, without any effort of his
own, foot by foot, across the square.
Twice he stumbled, and gave himself up
for lost, but the press lifted him to his
feet again, and he held on to his burden
with renewed hope.

Above the roar of the people he heard
the whistle of rifle balls, for it was evi-
dent that reinforcements had arrived and
were firing recklessly into the mob,

The troops seemed bene on slaughter-
ing as many of the rioters as possible,
for the shooting became louder and more
frequent, and men began to drop in all
directions.

Twice Maurice shuddered when he felt
something soft under foot. With every
nerve strained to its utmost, he held his
- own against the pressure, expecting every
moment to be riddled with bullets.

Suddenly his foot tripped on something
hard, and, taking a step upward, he felt
the smooth pavement under him. At the
same instant there was a stinging pain
in his left arm, and his grasp on Phil
relaxed. He knew he could go no farther
with his burden, and yet to remain
where he was meant certain death.

To his right a gloomy building loomed
indistinctly out of the darkness. If he
could only cross the sidewalk and reach
that, he might find a place of refuge till
the danger was past.

Summoning all his strength, and stili4
grasping Phil with his wounded arm, in
spite of the pain, he began to force his

way at right angles through the mob.

It was almost a hopeless task, but he
stuck to it, bravely pushing the people
right and left with desperate strength.

he air was clouded with powder
smoke, and the guns still pounded un-
ceasingly.

Fierce as was the. rush of the mob,
Maurice fought his way clear across the
sidewalk, and staggering feebly up a
flight of stone steps, dropped in a dead
faint on the summit. The ping of the
bullets brought him to his senses, and
he sat up to see Phil lying motionless
at his side, and aman in convict garb
leaning heavilv against the door.

He turned to the boys, and Maurice
recognized Paul Platoff. The fugitive’s
face was white with pain, and his right
leg was bound with a crimson bandage
torn from his overcoat. |

“Weare safe for the present,” he said
in Russian, pointing to the high wooden

- canopy over the top of the steps. Papkes:
- low, though, for a stray bullet migh
strike you.”

Maurice nodded gratefully, and im-
mediately stretched himself at full length
on the topmost step, A glance upward
showed him a high stone building. The
windows were tightly closed with iron
shutters, and the door was of heavy wood
with brass trimmings. :

Then heturned his attention to the
street, and at once forgot Phil, Platoff,
and his wounded arm, in the scene be-
neath him.
_ The house where he had taken refuge
was at the entrance to one of the exits
from the square. By good fortune the
majority of the rioters had turned in this
- direction. It had so happened that the
_. troops core the square from all

three of the other entrances, leaving this

one alone unguarded, and now the nar-

_ row passage-way was fast choking up

 

GOOD NHWEeE.

 

 

with the fleeing fugitives, while a horde
of cavalry rode at their heels, sabering
the wretched creatures as fast as they
could use their weapons. The roar of ar-
tillery, and the crack of rifles had almost
ceased, but the shrieks of the wounded,
and the frightened cries of the others
made an indescribable tumult.

With a sad heart, Maurice watched the
mass withdrawing foot by foot through
the narrow street, while the tramp of
hoofs and the glare of torches came
closer and closer.

Platoff’s commanding voice
him to his senses,

“Come,” he said, touching Maurice on
the shoulder. “You are a brave lad. I
watched your heroic struggle through the
crowd. Let us try toescape, If we can
gain access to this house, till the square
be cleared, 1 have friends who will care
for us, I am wounded, or I would seek
safety there,” and he pointed down at
the struggling crowd.

Most of thisspeech Maurice understood,
for he had by this time acquired a fair
knowledge of the language. He sat up
gladly, and turned to Platoff for instruc-
tions. The Russian, however, was bend-
ing over Phil, and wiping the blood from
the boy’s pallid face.

“Your friend is not dead,” he said, “a
fragment of bomb has grazed his head,
He will be all right shortly.”

Reaching within his blouse he drew
out a tiny flask, and put it to Phil’s
lips. The effect was wonderful. The
wounded lad opened his eyes and made
an effort to sit up. Platoff propped him
against the side of the door-way and then
turned to Maurice:

“Look,” he said, “the Cossacks are com-
ing nearer. Their torches will soon light
up our hiding-place. If we would escape
there is not a moment to lose.”

Half rising on his uninjured leg, he
rattled fiercely at the door, and ham-
mered the heavy panels with his fists,

“The cowards,” he cried, angrily, as
no response came from within. “They
are afraid to open it. But we have still
another chance, Force will conquer
where persuasion fails.”

He dragged himself to the edge of the
steps. ‘he wooden canopy over the door
was supported by heavy pillars, and,
seizing one of these, Platoff, with a des-
perate effort, wrenched it loose. Hand-
ing it to Maurice, he tore a second one
from its socket for his own use, and turn-
ing to the door he dealt it a sturdy
stroke with the heavy weapon.

“Strike, lad, strike!” he shouted to
Maurice, “do your best,” and under the
double rain of blows the door began to
creak and tremble,

Carried away by the _ possibilities
of escape, which Plato offered,
Maurice once more forgot all pru-
dence, and with nerves wrought to
the highest tension, he banged away at
the resisting barrier with furious energy.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the
square all ablaze with torches and alive
with mounted Cossacks and swarms of
infantry.

The insurrection had been quickly
quelled, and the rear of the mob was fast
struggling out through the narrow street,
leaving countless dead behind them.

“Harder, harder!” commanded Platoff;
“a few more strokes will do it, and
then safety.”

As he spoke a squad of Cossacks clat-
tered down the street, striking right and
left at the remnant of the fugitives, and
along the sidewalk advanced a turbulent
swarm of troops, seeking here and there
for some object on which to vent their
passion. A torch gleam flashed under
the canopy, revealing the fugitives, and
the maddened soldiers made a rush for
the steps, firing recklessly into the air
as they ran. In desperation, Platoff and
Maurice redoubled their efforts. Crash!
crash! rang the heavy pillars, and crack!
crack! went the door onits hinges. The
bullets pinged skarply round the daring
refugees, and just as the foremost of the
soldiers swept up the steps, with gleam-
ing bayonets, the lock gave way before
the fusillade, and the door swung in-
ward,

“Inside for your life!” shouted Platoff,
and seizing Phil in his powerful arms he
fairly threw him into the dark hall-way
and pushed Maurice after him.

Springing back to the edge of the steps,
he anatebed the two heavy pillars and
swinging them around his head, mowed
down the advancing soldiers like ripened
wheat.

With a spring he regained the hall- way
and slammed the door shut in the very
face of a furious storm of bullets.

“I have your companion,” he shouted
to Maurice; “follow me quick. They will
be here in an intsant.” ,

-He led the way in the darkness, and
Maurice followed closely along what
seemed to be a vast corridor, Outside
were heard furious cries and rifle-shots,
and a clatter of feet. Then the door burst
aes revealing a multitude of fierce

recalled

 

“Down flat,” shouted Platoff; “they
will fire over our heads,”

As they dropped to the floor, trembling
in expectation of a volley of bullets, a
door at the farther end of the corridor
opened, and a file of soldiers appeared,
led by a young officer with drawn sword.

A lamp was burning in the room behind
them. Fora momenta dire catastropke
impended,

The command to fire was on the offi-
cer’s lips, and the soldiers at the outer
door already held their hands on the
triggers. Caught between two fires, the
fugitives devoutly hugged the floor, wish-
ing themselves anywhere but in their
present predicament. The thrilling pause
was broken by a Cossack officer who
ee his way up the steps and into the
1all.

“Don’t shoot!” he cried to the men,
“What are you doing, here? What does
this mean, attacking his majesty’s store-
house?”

Before a reply could be made the offi-
cer at the farther end of the hall cried:

“In the name of the Czar lay down your
arms and surrender, or I fire.”

“Hold on, don't shoot,” exclaimed the
Cossack; “what is the meaning of this,
you ruffians?” and he turned angrily to
the men. .

“Tt is not we who have broken in here,”
half a dozen burst out, “it is some of the
rioters; they have skilled our men, and
we demand vengeance.”

The young officer who had been under
the impression that the men at the door
were part of the mob attacking the build-
ing, now advanced down the corridor
with his file of soldiers, and seeing that
the game was up, Platoff rose to his feet,
crying loudly:

“Don’t shoot; we are exiles—we do not
belong to the mob.”

The soldiers at the door commenced to
clamor for their lives, but the Cossack
officer drove them back from the entrance,
and the other troops, advancing down
the corridor, seized Platoff and his com-
panions,

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
0

A SPECTER AT THE HELM.

BY ROGER STARBUCK,

SeRisemaatld wine

HE night wastdark and stormy. The
howling and shrieking of the wind,
B the roaring of the waves, the creak-

7* ing and groaning of the ship’s tim-
bers, and the crashing of the seas as they
broke over the weather. bulwarks, fell
dismally upon the ears of the Cormoline’s
crew, who were gathered aft near the
wheel-house. ;

A little tar, wearing an enormous tar-
aulin, and trowsers which were very
oose and flowing about the ankles, was

steering the vessel on the occasion of
which we write.

The mate, who stood on the weather
side of the wheel, would sharply reprove
the helmsman, now and then, for allow-
ing the ship to swing off her proper
course; and though the helmsman would
not ey when reprimanded, yet there
was a bright flush upon his round cheeks
and an angry flash in his little gray eyes,
which the officer could not fail to per-
ceive, and which had the effect of rousing
all the irritability of his nature.

“Blast your eyes, Tom Bolt!” he ex-
claimed, as the ship’s head was suddenly
carried more than a point off its course
by a heavy sea, “you’re a perfect lubber,
and don’t know what you’re about. The
cabin-boy could do better.”

The little tar could no longer contain
himself.

“Look ’e here, sir!” he exclaimed. “I’m
forty years old this blessed day, and have
followed the sea since I was twelve.
What is niore, I understand my business
as well as any man living. If you expect
me to keep the ship straight in sucha sea
as this you expect more than mortal man
can do. As fo ry being a lubber, that’s a
term, sir, which was never before used
to me, and one which I don’t like to
hear.”

“Why, curse your old head!” cried the
mate, in a rage, ‘do you dare to have any
of your ‘gammon’ to me?”

“T have a parfect right to answer you
back when you insult me,” answered Tom

Bolt.

“Insult ye? Why, sich a_ thing
as you couldn't be insulted,” re-
torted the mate. “If I broke your thick
skull with a belaying-pin I’d only be
doing my,duty,”

“I wouldn’t advise you, sir, to try any
such move as that,” cried Tom, with
flashing eyes. “Iain't tobe——"

He was interrupted by a blow in the
face from the great fist of the mate, who
was a man of gigantic proportions—a
blow that sent him with great force
against the bulwarks. _

Before he could recover himself the ship
was thrown upon her beam ends, and he

 

was swept over the partially submerg
rail by a heavy sea,

“Man overboard!” shrieked the ¢
science-stricken mate; “man overboai
and no boat can live in this sea!”

A few minutes afterward the mi
rushed to the lee-bulwarks, and peer
anxiously through the gloom, at
crests of the phosphor-lighted billow
but they could see no sign of their shi
mate, q

“Here’s a rope trailing from astarm
remarked an old sailor, pointing to a lo
piece of rigging in the water. “If Te
had been quick enough he might have g
hold o’ that, and saved himself in
twinklin’.” a

“Ay, ay,” said another, “but it’s like
the poor fellow was too much ‘frighte
when he found himself overboard, to ev
see the rope.” }

“Shall me take de wheel, sir?” inqui
a Portuguese of the mate, who now he
the spokes. “Me can steer de ship good

“No,” answered the first officer, gloo
ily. “I have caused the loss of one m
by ay unfortunate temper, and I can
afford to lose another. Go forwar
every man of you. Iam _ perfectl
miserable and I wish to be alone.” %

Accordingly the men sought the for
castle deck, where they remained f
some time, conversing, in low and solen
voices, about the loss of their shipma
and the bad temper of the first officer, —

“Ay, ay, his temper will be the ruin
him yet,” said one. “He isn’t a bad m
at heart, though, for he has done mal
things to make us comfortable since ¥
shipped.” 4

“Yees, yees,” exclaimed the Port
guese, who has already been mentionedy
“he good man at heart, but he get awfl
angry sometimes.” 4

“And he feels sorry for it afterward
remarked a third. “I believe he feé
mighty sorry for the loss of Tom Bol
seeing as he himself was the cause of it

The speaker was right. The sufferin}
of the mate were such as no pen can
press. Standing by the wheel, his han
tightly grasping the spokes, it seemed >
him that the shrill whistling ofthe ga
among the shrouds was the voice of son
unearthly demon shrieking out a terrib
warning to his ears. His spirit fair
writhed with anguish; he trembled fro
head to foot so that he could scarcé
stand. The fact that the insults which]

had heaped upon the head of poor To Wt

Bolt had been undeserved, added to
weizht of torture that oppressed him, —

In spite of all his exertions he could né
keep the ship as steady upon her court
as the old seaman had done, and mol
than once he even thought of calling f
assistance at the wheel.

“I feel that I am a murderer,” ]
groaned, “I can never take a moment
comfort again.” %

As he spoke a _half-stifled sigh greett
his ear. He started, and turning his head@
beheld a motionless figure standing clos
to the wheel on the lee-side, He cou!
not mistake this figure, with its wid
flowing pants, enormous tarpaulin, roun
face, and little gray eyes. 4

“Tom Bolt!” he shrieked. “Oh, it
the spirit of Tom Bolt!” 3

“Ay, ay,” answered the apparition, 1
a hollow voice. “ You sarved me badly, M
Blink, and my poor, cold corpse is a-floa
ing many fathoms down in the deep, da
sea!” . 4

The mate’s countenance fairly becam
livid; his knees thumped one against thi

-other; his bulging eyes were riveted, @

if by some unearthly spell, upon th
motionless figure of the speaker. 4

“Heaven pity me,” he gasped. “Wh
shall I do—oh! what shall I do to ator
for my crime?” a

“You can do nothing,” was the mour
ful reply of the apparition, “except to e2
ert control over your evil temper. It isn:
in my power to forgive you. You mus
appeal to the One that’s aloft, and I ho}
—ay, ay, I fondly hope He’ll pardon you
Mr. Blink!” a

So saree the speaker
the darkness, and seeme
hind the cabin.

The mate shuddered. His
thumped loudly against his breast.
anguish was fearful, b

“T shall always be haunted by the spir
of Bolt!” he gasped, in a husky voice
“There is no more peace for me in. thi
world. Ay, ay,” he shrieked, “life is_
curse to me now, and i will at once pi
an end toit by following the corpse ¢
ete -

flided off int

to vanish bé

~
heal

e let go the wheel and sprang to le
ward, intending to throw himself in
the stormy “caldron” of waters, wht
a strong hand seized his arm. 7

. Hold ! hold!” shouted a familiar voic¢
“It is I, Tom Bolt, alive and well, wi
calls, Being some’at given to jokes
have been playing a trick upon you. M
Blink, and I hope you’!l pardon me:
freely as I pardon you for the blow yé
gave me,” ; a

With a cry of joy the. mate turned
grasped the hands of the little tar,
“Thank Heaven!” he exclaimed, “

 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
 
 
 
 

mer 3

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rboa

1 mM
peer
at @
i llow
ir shi

star’
>a ld
If Te
lave g
lf in

s like
ighte
toe v'

nqguir
ow he
) good
gloo
ne m
I cai
orw ar
erfectl
he for
ned fi
solen

ntionet
b awh

rward
he fee
m Bol
e of ib
fferin}
can é
is hant

terri
it fair
ed fro

oment.
greeté
lis hea
ng clos
Te co
ts wide
n, roun

Oh, it

ition,
dly, M
3 a-floa
ep, dar

r becam
1inst thi
reted, 4
yon ;

“ wha
to ator

“g

nity

GOooD NEWS.

2383

 

paven for this!” And the tears rushed to
his eyes.
Bolt disengaged himself, and sprang
engbing to the wheel. :
“We mustn’t forget, sir,” he cried,
‘that the ship needs somebody here at
he helm, and I hope you'll allow me to
er out the rest of my trick.”
*—“Willingly! willingly!” shouted Mr.
‘Blink. “If I ever find fault with you
ain I hope I may be whirled into eter-
; at once. But how did you save
“yourself, friend Bolt—tell me that E
“By a rope hanging from astarn. I

‘Jack Robinson drew myself up, being
helped by a big sea, which of itself almost
tossed me aboard. As it’s dark in the
tarn of the ship nobody saw me, and I
crouched down, remainin’ quite still for
me time, hardly able to realize that I
as r’ally saved; and——”
The mate did not wait to hear more,
Mut hurried forward and communicated
the good news to the men on the fore-
astle deck,
e have only toadd that from that
moment he treated his crew as if they
ere his own brothers.
—__-> -« >-
THREE ENTERPRISING CLERKS.

A merchant who kept three clerks, each
Ohne of whom made his own change and
free access to the money-drawers,

was the other day asked by a commercial

aveler why he did not keep a cashier to
-téeceive all moneys.

, Cost too much,” was the reply.

But are your clerks honest?’

Perfectly honest.” ;

__, Have you any objections to my trying

E hem 2”

“Certainly not; go ahead in any way
you wish,”
The traveler went away, but in about

. three hours he returned, and said, in a

oud voice, so that all might hear: p
_ “When I was here this afternoon I paid
1a bogus quarter by mistake. In case
ou find it in counting up to-night lay it
aside and I’ll redeem it.’ -
hen the traveler, accompanied by the
merchant, took a position where the back
_ door and alley could be kept in view, and
Nlessthan ten minutes out came the
head clerk, and emptied a handful of sil-
Veron the head of a barrel and pawed it
‘Over. The bogus quarter was not there.
€ returned to the store, and out came
—'he second clerk, and went through the
“Same programme. He was followed by
he third; and after he disappeared the
merchant calmly observed :
_ 4°ve been waiting thirteen years for
ade to pick up, andI rather guess I'll
’ the cashier system.”
—___~>-+ + —___——

GENIOUS WAY OF KILLING WOLVES

halebone is put to an ingenious use
he Esquimaux. Lieutenant Schwalka
tibes a case which came under his
Tsonal observation. Whenever wolves
ve been unusually predatory, have de-
toyed a favorite dog or so, or dug up a
ache of reindeer meat just when it was
ed, or in any way have aroused the
of the Esquimaux hunter, he takes a
of whalebone about the size of those
‘ IM corsets, wraps it up into a com-
Coil, like a watch-spring, having
iously sharpened both ends, then ties
ether with reindeer sinew, and plas-
t with a compound of blood and
nese, which is allawed to freeze, and
‘ms a binding cement sufficiently stron
th the sinew string at every secon
mae turn. This, with a lot of similar-
ooking baits of meat and blubber, is
“ttered over the snow or ground, and
hungry wolf devours it along with
Others, and when it is thawed out by
na vermth of his stomach it elongates,
nd has the well-known effect of whale-
© on the system, but having the mili-
Vantage of interior lines, its effects
More rapid, killing the poor wolf,
1 the inost horrible agonies, in a
ple of days.
eeeeeememeeeee. come sees coeeneennenee

; familiar saying about “rising with
ark” would lead those who are not
Nted with the habits of birds to
é that the lark is the bird which
up earliest. But this, observers of
€ tell us, is far from, being correct.
Freenfinch, otherwise called the
innet, rises and sings as early as
ast one on a fine June morning.
ackeap turns out at half-past two;
411 at three. By four o'clock the
;.esound with the melody of the
o; and half an hour later the

Pipi ;
a th of the thrush and _ linnet

or are these the only birds

ines up before the lark, for the
fe robin, and many other winged
‘hich inhabit the meadows and the
awake and on their way earlier

 

| bread slightly steeped in water,

|} asmall piece of iron in the drinking water.

 

Qur Mail Bag.

pipette

{Questions on subjects of general interest only are
dealt with in the “Mail Bag.” Medical or legal
questions not answered. Goop NrEws goes to pee
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.]
NPR AES

R. W. (Saratoga, N. Y¥.)—To extract the grease
from your drawing-paper, cone warm the greased
or spotted part of the paper, and then press upon it

| pieces of blotting paper, one after another, so as to
“ae 5 : ,+ | absorb as much of the grease as_ possible.

ized it, and before you could o’ said|
| heated almost to a boiling state; slightly warm the

Have
ready some fine clear essential oil of turpentine,

greased part of the paper, and with a soft, clean
brush wet both sides of the spot with the heated
turpentine. By repeating this application the
grease will be extracted. Lastly, with another
brush dipped in rectified spirits of wine, g0 over
the place, and the grease will entirely disappear
without the paper being discolored. Do this by
daylight.

V. J. O. (St. Joseph, Mo.)}—-When a submarine
cable is broken, the exact spot is fixed upon by
special instruments, and then a repairing vessel is
sent to the spot. The cable is lifted by grapnels
and carefully spliced or otherwise repaired. Then
the break is tested by the electricians, to make sure
it is sound and perfect at the junction of the splice,
the core is wrapped with its protective- hemp
covering, the armor wires are laid on, and finally a
stout cord of spun-yarn is wound over the whole
splice.

” G, H. (Hartford, Conn.)—Feed young canaries
with yolk and white of egg, hard boiled, mixed with
In another vessel
washed in fresh water.
During moulting time put
Old
birds should be fed principally with summer rape-
seed, with chickweed, lettuce, or endive, or slices
of sweet apple. Avoid giving sugar. Have the air
always fresh, but not cold.

G. M. (Marion, Ind.)—Goats are not peculiar to any
particular part of the world. They are found in all
climates. The Cashmere goat of Thibet is very
valuable, having long, straight, fine hair, as is also
the Angora goat of Asia Minor, whose hair is also
fine and silky, but it is curly and shorter than that
of the Cashmere goat. Knife-handles are made
of goats’ horns. The celebrated Cashmere shawls
ave made from the hair of the goats so named,

F. £. C. (Providence, R. I.)—1. We thank you very
much for the long list of names which you sent us
for sample copies, also your kind commendations.
2. You denerse praise for the manner in which you
have fought life’s battle alone. Your handwriting
and composition proves that you must have been
persevering. Keep at it; don’t give up hope, no
matter what might happen, and you will reach the
top round of the ladder some day.

H. C.(Oakiland, Cal.)—You ought to be able to
secure some kind of work after school hours if you
are very anxious to do 80, but would advise you to
give up the idea of working after school hours un-
less itis absolutely necessary. Thirteen years of
age is too young for a boy to devote all his time to
work. You need recreation after school ; remember
the old maxim, “All work aud no play makes Jack
a dull boy.”

B. F. P. (Elizabeth City, N. C)—We ido not ac-
cept stories sent to us from unknown writers. Our
stories are all written to order. Rejected manu-
scripts are returned if the proper amount of post-
age is sent for that purpose. When postage is not
inclosed we suppose the manuscript is not expected
to be returned. We cannot attempt to examine
manuscripts not required for our publications.

V. A. B. (Patchogue, L. I.)—1l: We were obliged to
cut your exchange notice, as it contained articles
which we do not advertise in exchange column,
such as guns, pistols, etc. 2. You ought to be able
to find better paying business than what you have
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We are pleased to know that you like our stories.

M.S. (Nashville, Tenn) holes stamp mucilage
is composed of two parts of gum dextrine, one part
of acetic acid, five parts of water, and one part of
alcohol. We are unable to furnish you with the
name of any one dealing in the ready-made article.
The materials may be purchased from dealers in
drugs.

give boiled rapeseed,
Change the food daily.

H, E. D.(New York).—1, The binder premium was |

only for those sending in subscriptions during the
insertion of the advertisement in December. 2. We
will send to our readers fac-simile autographs of the
Presidente of the United States, and the date of
their inauguration, on receipt of postage.

W. M. R. (Detroit, Mich.)—The puzzle you sent us
was not completed, is the reason you have not seen
itin our puzzle column. All our readers are in-
vited to send us original puzzles, which will be
published with their name in our paper. We also
publish the names of puzzle solvers,

G. T. (Englewood, Il.)—1. You will receive the de-
sired information by writing to Agents’ Guide, 122
Nassau street, N. Y. 2. Paint stains may be treated
with oilof turpentine or benzine. 3. Handwriting
fair. You need a little more practice.

Pop Corn (Yazoo City, Miss.)—1. The authors you
inquire about are not writing stories for serial
publication. 2, You need exercise. Walking,
running, jumping, or horizontal-bar will very soon
take off your superfinous flesh.

P. W. (Odebolt, lowa.)—We respectfully decline
the poems and short stories which you so kindly
sent us. They are not declined for lack of merit,
but because our regular contributors can keep us
more than supplied

W. B. Z. (Dubuque, Iowa).—l. May Iist., 1890. 2.
April 22, 1875, fell on Thursday. 3. The first iron
steamship was built in 1830. 4. Penmanship fair.
5. aoe Pennsylvania Grit is published at Williams-
port, Pa. ‘

P. &. (Coldwater, Mich.)—There are but two sea-
sons in the tropics—summer, or the “dry season,”
and winter, or the “wet season.” Spring and an-
tumn are unknown in such localities.

W. M. A. (New York)—You can get the book at the
American News Co., Chambers street, New York,
or better still, ask your newsdealer to get it for you.
We thank you for your kind opinion.

A. G. (New Haven, Conn.)—Gold ornaments may
be thoroughly cleaned by immersion for a few
seconds in a weak solution of ammonia. Then wash
with white Castile soap and water.

E. F. (New York).—We believe that a small ex-
perimental engine has run at the rate of a mile a
minute. About 20 miles an hour is the rate on
ordinary systems. , i

Reader Se Bluffs, Towa).—The town you
mention divided into syllables would be “Wor-ces-
ter”; but you, of course, know that it is pronounced
*‘Wooster,”

F.M.@. (Phila., Pa.)—1. Write to the New York
Belting and Packing Co.,15 Park Row, New York.
2. The sample is no doubt a species of cement.

[Several communications left over to be answered next

| orthodox, an’ say a rich man can’t enter th’

 

Ticklets

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER,

igi oon natom

Not to Blame.

Little Johnnie—“‘Papa, the new toy store is
selling balls for almost nothing.”

Father (anxious to inculcate
wisdom)—‘‘That’s only a bait.
there’s bait there’s a hook.”

Little Johnnie—‘‘Well, I don’t think it need
matter to us if they did hook ’em.”

commercial
Wherever

Regard for Appearances.
First Boy—“Who cut y’r hair—y’r mother?”
Second Boy—“Naw. Yeh don’t think I’d let
me mother cut me hair, do yeh? She’d butcher

“Who did ?”
“Out it meself,”

A Great Effort.

Wee Miss—T hate that little girl!’

Mamma—‘ You should not hate anybody, my
dear.”

Wee Miss—‘Well, if I mustn’t hate her, Ill
try not to, but*el guess it/ll make my head
ache.”’

He Could Walk.

Mother—“‘I wish you would go on an errand
for ine.”

Small Son—“My leg aches awful.”

“Too bad. I wanted you to go to old Mra.
Stickney’s candy store, and——”

“Oh, that isn’t far. Lean walk there easy.”

“Very well: Go there, and right along side
of it you will see a grocery store. Go in and
get me a bar of soap.”

Self-Control.
Teacher—“What is the meaning of self-con-
trol?”
_Boy—It’s w’en a teacher gets mad, and feels
like giving a boy a bluck mark, and doesn't.”

The Point of View.

Little Dot—“Papa and Uncle George is al-
ways talkin’ ’bout orthodoxy an’ lib’ralism.
What is they ?’

Little Dick—'‘W’y, if you are poor, you'll be

kingdom of heaven; butif you are rich, you'll
be a liberal, an’ say that verse don’t mean any-
thing.”

An Art Emergency.

Small Artist—‘Mamma, I painted this little
girl in the picture, and I've got the bureau
alongside of her painted, but I want to paint a
rouge box on the bureau, and I can’t make it
look right.”

Mamwa—*Why do you want a rouge box
there?” s

Small Artist—“I’ve got her cheeks too red,
and I want it to look as if she did it herself.”

Lost Opportunities.
Papa—‘Mercy ! what an interrogation point
youare! I’m sure I didn't ask such strings of
questions when I was a boy.”
Little Son—‘‘Don’t you think if you had, you’d
be able to answer more of mine ?”

The Height of Style.

Mamma—W hat are you doing, pet?”

Little Dot—"T’m writin’ invitations for my
dollie, invitin’ other dolls to her party.”

Mamma (looking them over)—‘Very nicely
written. But whatis this black cross at the
bottom ?”

Little Dot—“That’s dollie’s mark.”

_ It Didn’t Work.

Nervous Lady—“There! I’ve had some ashes
put on the hill outside, and now I guess those
noisy coasters will go somewhere else,”

Boy (outside)—‘*Hi! All of you! Here’s a
bully place to shine y’r runners.”

Sharp Eyes.

Little Dot—“Grown folks don’t care anything
for circuses.”

Little Dick—“Yes, they do.”

Little Dot—‘No, they don’t. They only goes
so as to take the childrens.”

Little Dick—*'Yes, that’s what they say ; but
they uever takes any books along to read.”

An Astute Physician.

Little GirJ—“'The doctor said mamma mus’
take a constitutional every day. What does
that mean ?”’

Little Boy—‘That means walking.”

“Then why didn’t he say so?”

“J don’t know, but I guess maybe if he called
it plain walking he couldn’t charge for it,”

Uncertain Pens.
‘ Little Dot (at her writing lesson)—“‘Oh,>
dear !” :
Mamma—‘What’s the matter ?”’
Little Dot—“T don’t see why they can't make
pens thatewon't wriggle.”

Not in His Confidence.
Caller—“‘Is Mr. Bizzy in?’
Office Boy—‘No. He’s just gone out.”
Caller—‘How soon will he be back?’
Office Boy—‘‘He didn’t happen to mention
that. You see I am not one of the firm yet.”

——_+-e—e—___-

THE most powerful electric light in the
world is at Hantsholm, on the coast of
Jutland, in Denmark, where, from the
light-house situated at that place, there
is flashed nightly an electric light of
20,000,000 candle-power.

WATER CATS.

Though it seems somewhat difficult to
understand how the sportsmen of the
Nile trained their cats not only to hunt
game, but to retrieve it from the water,
the hunting scenes depicted on the walls
of Thebes afford proof of the Egyptian
cats’ service in tbis respect,

It is generally supposed that nothing
will induce a cat to enter water, but this
is clearly a fallacy, like many other pop-
ular notions about the animal world.
The tiger is an excellent swimmer, as
many have found to their cost, and so the
cat, another member of the tiger famiiy,
can swim equally well if it has any oc-
casion to exert its powers, either in quest
of prey or to efect its escape from some
enemy.

As cats are exceedingly fond of fish,
they will often drag them alive out of
their native element whenever they get
the chance.

They have even been khown to help
themselves out of aquaria that have been
left uncovered, and on moonlight nights
they may be seen watching for the un-
wary occupants ofa fish-pond during the
spawning season especially.

Again a cat will take the water in pur-
suit of a rat—a fact that was proved by a
friend of ours a few years ago.

On one occasion, being accompanied by
one of his pets, a rat was started, which
the cat not only pursued, but chased into
the water close by, eventually swimming
to an island some little distance from the
bank, where it remained a short time and
then swam back again.

———_~+ -¢-» --___

A NEWSPAPER WITHOUT AN EDITOR.

A popular paper in Madrid is an in-
stance of this kind. There is no editor of
this peculiarly conducted newspaper, but
a dozen active reporters are employed in
ees over all parts of the city, every
sind of information suitable for publica-
tion in its columns.

The reporters drop their manuscripts
into a box at the printing establishment
of the paper, and the foreman compositor
takes his copy indiscriminately from this
box as he requires it. The items are not
arranged in any way, but the newspaper
is issued as soon as enough material to
fill it has been printed. It is a news-
paper, and nothing else, containing only
graphically written accounts of daily oc-
currences which its reporters consider
sufficiently interesting for publication.
Many newspapers in’ Russia, and some
other despotic countries, have a nominal
editor only, whose sole duty is to suffer |
whatever penalities in the shape of im-
prisonment may be inflicted in conse-
quence of anything considered objection-
able appearing in the paper; the duties
that ordinarily devolve upon an editor
being in such cases performed by other
members of the staff.

—__~+----——___—_—

Tur German Government will not use
any white horses in the army in future.
In a battle the enemy can discern white’
horses at a considerable distance.

Easily Taken Up

Cod Liver Oil asit
appears in Scott’s
Emulsion is easily
taken up by the
system. In no
other form can so
much fat-food be
assimilated with-
out injury to the
organs of digestion.

Scotts Emulsion —

of Cod Liver Oil with Hypophos-
phites has come to be an article
of every-day use, a prompt and
infallible cure for Colds, Coughs,
Throat troubles, and a positive
builder of flesh.

Prepared by Scott & Bowne, N.Y. All druggists.

 

 

 

 

 

t Picture

 

we make this

For 80 Days, Tointrodneour CRAYON PORTRAITS sree Send
us a Cabin , Photograph or any
f your family, living or dead, and we will
f FE OF CHARGE: rovided you exhibitit us
Y work and use your influence in securing us future ord
oF aheng Sele gue wish nck coat ith liken ies
‘an re you no

bankin G cago. Adi Ta DRERCLAT CHAKON C0., Oppodite Hew German A
Theatre, cHicaeo, ILL. P.§.—We will forfeit $100 to any one sending us photo

‘ ‘and notreceiving crayon picture FREE as per this offer, Thisoferisbonafide
     

2384

Puzzle Corner.

[Original contributions solicited. Please do not
gend puzzles containing obsolete words. Address
* puzzle Editor,” Goop Nrws, P. O. Box 2734, New
York City.]

 

No, 1—DIAMOND.

1. In death arfd disease.

2. Anger.

8. To accelerate.

4, A girl’s name.

5. In life and death,

A. M. GARLAND.
No. 2.—METAGRAM.
Away, away to the glorious rime
If you would see me at my jine.
I hope and trust you will not throw
A dime away ou a one-horse show,
Whose owner swears that he alone
Has the greatest cowboy ever known,
One whose great historic name
Is tirmmly tixed on the roll of fame.
Though he wears a belt around his waist
With enormons pistols in it placed,
Great cow-hide boots and a broad-brimmed hat,
A buekskin skirt and a red cravat,
With all his trappings so dused tine,
Believe we he is not genuine.
O. B. QUICK.

No. 3—RIDDLE.
I chanced to walk along the street,
And there my first was standing.
T often see my second lie
On first or second landing;
My whole is that which shoes abuse,
What every one at times does use—
A very useful thing.
F. FELLOWS.
No. 4—WorbD SQUARE,
1, A sound reverberated.
2. Gatherings from fruit or grain.
8. An aperture.
4. Uncovered.
P. GASCOIGNE.
No. 5—CHARADE,
My first you'll surely find in race,
My second in the course;
My third is always in the chase,
My fourth goes with the horse.
My fifth and sixth in betting see,
My seventh in welsher trace:
My eighth’s in man you will agree,
My ninth and lastin place.
And now, if you will study well,
The letters will an insect spell.
'C. M. COCKBILL.
No. 6—DECAPI-CURTAILMENT.
My whole may be seen on the ground;
Behead, ina lock Tam found;
And, then, if curtailed, vou will find
Vm ever a curse to maukind, W.G.

No, 7—DECAPITAT ION.
When whole Iam a narrow shred,
Or what thieves often try to do;
But should [-chance to lose my head,
A journey then 1 bring to view.
Bek; *

No. 8—PEACHES. ;

A certain amount of peaches were to be di-
vided among three wen as follows: A is to
get 3g of the peaches and one over; B is to
get 3¢ and one overof what is left after A
has taken his part; and Cis to get and three
over of whatis leftafter A andB have taken
their part. How many peaches were altogether
jn the basket, and how many peaches did each
‘ get? 46.G

Mia

 

GOoD NEWS.

A CONFESSION.

Hata ct.

| |

ji |

i

Ht

Aunt Mabel—‘‘Why, Johnny, how the sun has tanned you!”

Johnny—‘‘No, it wasn’t the sun that tanned me.

It was papa.”

 

No. 9—ONE LETTER PUZZLE.

Take one from time,
Take one from lime.

And then take one from rage;

Take one from fear,
Take one from bier,

And then take one from sage.
These letters, placed aright by you,
A river in Asia will bring to view.
WwW

————

Short Stops.

o———

QUEEN of the bawl-room—The nurse.

Out of season—An empty pepper-box.
SHEEP have no teeth in the upper jaw.

IN the human skeleton there are 260 bones.

 

. BUNDOCK.
THE question of the hour—‘What time is it?s

OF every million people in the world 800 are

Auswers to Puzzles in No. 148 Good News | wina:
No. 1— ——-+—— A VERY fine Stradivarius violin will fetch
. x $10,000.
AMO THE giraffe and armadillo are voiceless, with
ADELA no vocal chords.
AMERICA Why is a blind man like a water-pipe ?—He is
OoE Ev generally led (lead).
A ae THERE are over 13,000 varieties of postage
464 stamps in the world. :
0. 2— . Why is the Stock Exchange like a ship ?—It
. Walter Morris. is full of sails (sales). . ee
pee THERE'S one good thing a bad boy won't take,
An old-fashioned winter. and that is good advice. :
0. 4— WHEN George IV. went angling, what bird
RA z* x was he like?—A kingfisher. —
TOMAN THE swan lives longer than any other bird:
ABATI Some have died 800 years old.
NENIA IN proportion to its size, the ant has a larger
No. 5— brain than any other creature.

Lament, mantle.

PUZZLE SOLVERS.
Willie Henderson, Ralph Winslow, Gus Earle

and P. G. Cornelius.

Wury is a hobbling parson like a secular per-
son !—He is a lame man (layman).

SOME naturalists assert that a healthy swal-
low will devour 6,000 flies every day.

Iv is hardly fair to send a blind man to jail
for having no visible means of support.

    

 
 

A coop Egyptian mummy, warranted 6,0
years old, can be bought any day for $100.

CHINA has vast undeveloped coal mines
twenty times more than all those of Europe.

Wuy is fashionable society like a warnin
pan 7—Because it is highly polished, but ve
hollow,

CUBAN barbers lather’ their patrons wi
their hands from a bowl made to fit under t
chin. No brush is used,

THE medical men say that kleptomania is
disease. We have observed that its victims a
always taking something for it.

A BROKEN toy which amused the great Naf
leon when he was in swaddling clothes, w
sold in France recently for $200.

A SINGLE mahogany tree in Honduras w
recently eutinto boards, which, when sold
the European warket, realized over $10,000.

A LAW in Turkey, with severe penalties
case of infringement, declares it to be a gre
offense for Mohammedan women to be pho
graphed,

A LITTLE five-year-old, after shopping wi
her mother at some drapery shops, remarke
“Seems to me there are a good many bo
named Cash.”

THE frog, owing to its peculiar strnctu
cannot breathe with the mouth open, and if
were forcibly kept open the animal would dj
of suffocation.

ARTIFICIAL legs and arms were in use
Egypt as early as B. C. 700. They were made
the priests, who were the physicians of thi
early time.

HORSES are, itis said, just now so plenti
in Buenos Ayres that everybody has at Je
one. Itis claimed thateven the beggars
on horseback,

MouNT ARARAT, the resting-place of the Scr
tural ark, is,in reality. two mountains sep
ated by a valley. The higher peak is 17,210 f
and the lesser 13,000 feet above sea level.

A FENCE 500 miles long, of wire netti
separating the colonies of New South Wali
and Queensland, is one of the wonders &
Australia. Isis designed to keep the rabb
out.

THE highest temperature on the globe is @
Death Valley, Inyo County, Cal. Its surfa
159 feet below sea level, and in summer
thermometer has occasionally marked 122 4
grees. ~ f

JOHNNY lost his knife. After searching
one pocket and another until he had be
through all without suecess, he exclaime
“Oh, dear! I wish I had another pocket;
might be in that.” }

THE most indestructible wood is the Jarré
wood of Western Australia, which defies
known forms of decay, and is untouched by
destructive insects, so that ships built of it@
not need to be coppered. q

Ir the ivory trade increases at the pres
rate much longer, the elephant will soon
come extinct. One firm alone in Sheffield It
year received the tusks of no fewer than 1;
elephants. A few years ago 800 pairs of t
were sufficient for them, a

“TWICck round an elephant’s foot is
height.” This, on first thoughts, seems alm¢
ineredible, butis in reality a fact. The larg!
elephant in the Zoological Gardens at the p
ent time measures exactly fifty-eight inc
round the front foot, and stands 9 ft. 8 in. at
shoulder, and to elephants of any size the sa

    
  
 
   
    
   
   
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
 
   
 
   
   
  
  
    

  
   
 
 
 
   
   
   
     
    
  
   
 
  
   
   
  
 
 
  
       
  
  

  
   
 
   
  

i

  
  
   
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
 

 

 

 

BOUND VOLUMES
OF GOOD NEWS.

VOL. Il,—CNos, 53 to 78.)

We have issued this volume, bound in an attrac-
tive heavy paper cover. The papers are cut and
trimmed and und with as much care as an ex-
pensive cloth binding, and the price is Eighty-

- five cents. ‘This volume contains the conelision
of all the stories not finished in Vol. II, and the
following complete serials.

BEACH BOY JOE, by Lieut. Jas. K. Orton.
THE Sen eLeArs BOYS, by Chas. Ber-

g nard, :

PETER POTTER’S PILGRIMAGE, by Jack.

BOYS WILL BE BOYS, by J. F. Trowbridge.

Bat DETECTIVE, by Horatio Alger,
Yr.

CANOE AND CAMP-FIRE, by W. B. Lawson.

 

Also the usual assortment of short stories, Short
Talks With the Boys, useful and instructive infor-
mation, etc.

VOL, I,—(Nos. 27 to 52.)

The papers in this volume are cut and trimmed
similar to our Vol. 3. The price is one dollar.
The supply is very nearly exhausted. ‘Volume 2
contains the following complete serial stories:

BETWEEN THE LINES. by_ Jas. K. Orton.

 

JIM RIDLEY'S LUCK, by Max Adeler.
NOTHING BUT A BOY, by Oliver Optic.
WHITE HORSE FRED, by Harry Castle-

“mon.

SHIFTING WINDS, by W. B. Lawson.

LIEUT. CAREY’S ‘LUCK,
berry,

Tt also contains numerons short stories by promi-
nent authors, the usual collection of useful and
instructive articles, interesting departments, etc.

No other volumes of GOOD NEWS have been issued
in this cheap form.

‘VOLUME ONE is entirely out of print.

Address STREET & SMITH, 31
New York, ;

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S. & S. MANUAL LIBRARY, No. 4.

PRICE, 10 CENTS.
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