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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1892, by Sheet & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washinglon, D. 0.
Entered as Second-elass Mater at the New Yori, N.Y., Post-Office, June 11, 1892.

—WVoo0rae

oO eet ee tae eee eee ee tee tate tet tether tether tee ae tat ae eee eet eee shee agt eet Rare sear h eM er eterna eae”

FIVE CENTS PER Cory. No 110
Subscription Price, $2.50 per Year. . ’

TEALING A STEAMER;

E LOG OF THE BRIG TERROR.

By WALTER MORRIS.

SSS 3 - nA a

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“STEALING A STEAMER” was commenced last week.
of the expedition concluded he could leave
his post of duty for a moment.

CHAPTER ITI.

 

WHT THE CHASE. Whatever Bart’s failings may have
wll oT. been, cowardice was not. one of them.

7 THIS. last remark was screamed Running through the forward cabin, he

es 2 rather than spoken, and the mouth | ascended tothe wheel-house just as a

f 2 ‘ of the whistle closed with a sudden} bullet came crashing through the win-

Z snap which told that Rast hadsud-|dow, and Seth let go the meen of the

Zz ~~ ? ae denly dropped to the floor to shield his | wheel as he also tried to find a place of

 

) precious body from possible danger. safety. ' es
ar ance angine ickly “ n’ > scare y when we’re in
“TR vor wraw . on BR J : icon es An bate, Vaan, Bart glanced at the engine quickly. Don’t be scare d now when we re giv
F YOU WON’T HELP RUN THIS YACHT TO FLORIDA, 'LL DROP YOU Ov ER THE It was working smoothly; the steam-|them the slip,” Bart cried, as he took
RAILS WHERE YOU COME FROM!” AND BART LEFT TRE WHEEL mt gauge indicated quite as high a pressure |his station at the wheel and glanced
ADVANCE THREATENINGLY. as it was safe to carry, and the leader! back over hisshoulder. “We're walkin

 
  
 
  

1746

Giscsmadtiesee deancinenmdteecamaeeenae ee

GoonpD

 

right away from that boat, or else they
wouldn’t try to shoot.”

“Then you’ll have to do the steerin’,
for I won’t,” Seth replied, his teeth
chattering so with fear that the words
were hardly distinguishable.

“But I can’t stay here! The engine
must be attended to or they’ll soon be
alongside. Get up, one of you fellows.
They can’t see you, an’ areonly takin’
chances of hittin’ somebody.”

At first his companions would not lis-
ten; but as the moments wore on and no
one had been killed, they grew more
bold.

“In ten minutes more we’ll be out of
range, so take hold here long enough for
me to run below an’ see to things.”

“Will you come right back?”

“Of course. I don’t want to goto jail
when I’ve got the best of a bargain, an’
you may count on my stayin’ here as long
as I can till we’re outside.”

Reassured by these words Seth took the
wheel once more, and Bart went to at-
tend to the swiftly moving machinery.

To an uninterested spectator the race

. must have been a beautiful one, Both
crafts were being pushed at their best
speed, and the long lines of fire trailing
behind told of the lavish expenditure of
fuel.

The Sea Gull with her delicate lines
looked like the finest tracery of lace-work
as her slender spars were outlined against
the sky which was rapidly being lightened |
by the rising moon, and the police boat, |
rugged of build, but swift asa shark,
might have been likened to some monster
of the sea chasing a nautilus.

At that moment Bart had no time to
search for beautiful things.

It was necessary to utilize every ounce
of steam, and during the exciting chase
he came to understand how little he knew
about the trade which he professed to
have already learned.

Despite the disadvantages of having an
unsk ilful engineer, the Sea Gull soon dis-
tanced her pursuer.

Within a very few moments after Bart
left the wheel-house the larger craft had
fallen so far in the rear that the bullets
failed to hit the mark, and just at the
time when he was thinking of returning
to encourage his pilots, Rast shouted
triumphantly:

“They’ve given it up, an’ are goin’
back!” :

“Are you certain?” the engineer asked,
hardly crediting the good news.

“Come up an’ see for yourself.
turning around now.”

Bart’s first care was to slacken speed,
and then he rejoined his companions.

Rast had spoken truly. The chase had
been abandoned, for the pursuers knew
only too well that there was no hope for
them unless an accident should occur on
board the Sea Gull, and the chances of
such an occurrence were so remote that
the officers did not feel warranted in run-
ning far down the bay when they might
be needed nearer home.

“Well,” Bart said, drawing a long
breath of relief as he watched the other
craft circle slowly around, “that wasa
snug shave; but we’ve got out of the
scrape all right, an’ can now afford to
crow.”

“Is there a revenne cruiser in the har-
bor?” Seth asked.

“TIT dont’ know, an’ care less. By the
time she could get steam up we'll be
outside, an’ it’ll be a mighty lively craft
that can overiiaul us then.”

“How long.before we’ll reach Sandy
Hook?”

“There it is, andin halfan hourthe Sea
Gull will be at sea. Say, Rast, can’t you
hunt round an’ get ussomegrub? If Seth
steers, an’ I run the engine, you oughter

,

do the cookin’.

“I’m _ willin’,” was the quick reply, for
now ali danger was passed, Rast felt
quite as brave as any one.

Bart Jighted the binnacle-lamp, and in-
structed Seth how to steer for a certain
length of time.

“We'll stand out to sea about an hour,
an’ then haul around ona straight course,”
hesaid. “Watch the compassso’s to keep
her steady.”

“How long have I got to stay on duty?”

“All night, I reckon, for it won’t do to
trust Rast.”

“Do you count on keepin’ awake from
now till the time we reach Florida?”

Bart was puzzled.

Strange as it may seem, he had failed
to realize that his crew was not large
enough to form more than one watch, and
before the voyage was finished they might
be exhausted. :

“We'll fix all that later,” he said, with
a por attempt at speaking carelessly.
““Wait till mornin’, an’ then we can
talk the Bes

“We shan’t have any bigger crew then
ot now.”

They’re

than we’ve

“But we’ll have more time to see how
it can be done. I'll go below agin, put
her on three-quatter speed, ari’ by the
time Rast gets the grub cooked we'll have
a chance to eat it.”

 

The cook did not make any very elabor-
ate preparations for supper.

In the pantry he found such a host of
good things that his mouth fairly watered
to.get at them, and he made a _ hasty
selection of the most tempting articles in
tin cans.

Thus it was that soda biscuit, pre-
serves, fruits, nuts, and raisins were thé
principal dishes he carried to his com-
panions, and they were well pleased with
his choice.

The desire for meat might come later;
but just then the sweets were preferable.

When they had eaten until all cravings
were satisfied, the Sea Gull had left
Sandy Hook light some. distance behind,
and was danciug and courtesying on the
heavy swellin amanner that seriously
troubled the fresh-water sailors which
made up the crew.

“You’ll have to come here right away,”
Seth cried in a feeble voice through the
tube. “I’m so sick I can’t hold my head
up, let alone trying to watch the com-
pass.”

“T'll send Rast,” Bart replied, feeling
very queer himself in the region of his
stomach,
agreeable sensation as he went insSearch
of the cook.

He found that young gentleman lying

-on a locker in the forward cabin looking

pale as death, and clutching the cushion
desperatley to prevent himself from being
thrown off.

“T couldn’t get into the wheel-house to
save my life,” the sufferer moaned, when

Bart explained what was wanted. “1 be-
lieve that grub was poisoned.”
“Now don’t bea fool, Rast! You’re

sea-sick, that’s all.”

“Tt’s more’n enough.”

“But we’ve got torun the craft, and
you must brace up.”

The cook shook his head mournfully,
and despite all Bart’s efforts would not
obey the order,

The engineer was trying to force Rast
to his feet when the yacht lurched broad-
side on to the swell, tumbling about in
an alarming fashion, and he ran with
all speed to the pilot-house.

The helmsman had simply given up
every attempt at guiding the craft, and
was leaning far out of the window in the
vain effort to find relief.

“Do you want to swamp us?” Bart asked,

angrily, as he shoved the helm hard
down. “Some one must do the steering,
an’ I’ve got my hands full in the engine-
room.”
“Then let her go to the bottom,” Seth
said, witha groan. “I can’t doany more,
an’ it don’t make a bit of difference to
me what mc pipe -

Bart was in a quandary.

If both his companions refused to do
their duty how could he manage the
wheel and the engine alone?

He was beginning to think the expedi-
tion would fail just as it had apparently
succeeded, when from the ocean he heard
a hail.

There was no craft in sight, and yeta
human voice had come as if from the
depths, causing the cold sweat of fear to
burst from every pore.

 

CHAPTER IV,
TIMELY AID.

Be gazed anxiously around, and

again came the cry:
2 “Help! Steamer ahoy! Help!

S You’re running me down!”

It seemed as if the words had but just
been spoken when from over the rail,
wet, and in the moonlight looking as
ghosts are generally supposed to, came a
boy of about the same age as those who
had stolen the Séa Gull.

“Who are you?” Bart managed to gasp,
and then the spokes of the wheel slipped
from his nerveless fingers.

“Look out there! She’s coming around !”
the visitor cried as he ran toward the
pilot-house. “I reckon you think I’m
something more or less than flesh an’
blood?”

“What are you?” and Bart succeeded in
getting the steamer under control once
more.

“A boy who has been blown out to sea.”

“Where'd you come from just now”

“Over the rail; your steamer cut my
boat down; but I contrived to catch a
fender that’s been left hanging outside.
It was a narrow squeak; but so long as
it turned up all right I’ve no reason to
complain.”

“Where do you live?”

“I’m. assistant engineer on the tug
Ocean Queen that is laying just inside
Sandy Hook. I went out likea fool in the
hope of catching some fish; broke one
oar and lost the other; drifted around
since half an hour before sunset, and bad
begun to think it was all over with me
when your craft hove insight. Where are
you bound?”

“Florida.”

“T don’t reckon you would put me
back %"

but trying to control the» dis- |

 

    

eRe ee

NEWS.

 

“Couldn’t think of it,” and now Bart
spoke very positively in his natural voice.
“Come up here,”

“To what port in Florida are you bound?”
the visitor asked, as he obeyed the sum-
mons,

“Almost any one where the sport is
good.”

“Oh, out on a pleasure trip, eh?” and
the new-comer gazed quizzically at Seth,
who was still hanging half through the
window, paying no attention to any one
or anything.

“He’s my mate; but a little under the
weather just now,” Bart explained.
“The. other feller is below in the same
condition, an’ I’m tryin’ to run the helm
an’ the engine at the same time.”

“Then perhaps I can lend you a hand”

“IT wish you would. Run below a
minute an’ see how things are getting
along. Say, what’s your name?”

“Tom Dinnock,” and the visitor disap-
peared down the stairs.

“Well, if that ain’t the luckiest thing
I ever had happen to me,” Bart said, in
a triumphant tone. “Here’s a reg’lar
engineer, an’ now we'll get along in
great shape.”

Five minutes
through the tube:

“W here’s the fireman?”

“Haven't got any. All hands take a
turn at sich jobs.”

“TIsn’t there anybody to help out for five
minutes or so?”

“L.told you both the fellers were sick.”

There was silence for an instant, and
then the new engineer asked slowly as if
too much surprised to speak rapidly:

“Do you mean to tell me that three fel-
lows..are taking this yacht to Florida
alone?”

“That's exactly the size of it. Come up
here when you get through, an’ we’ll
talk the matter over.”

Tom stood inthe engine-room gazing
blankly at the swiftly moving machinery
trying to solve what was to him a mys-
tery.

“There’s something wrong about this
craft,” he said to himself, as he noticed
the condition of affairs generally. “No
decent man would have put to sea with
his engine in such shape, and I’m dead
certain that fellow at the wheel isn’t
rich enough to own so fine a yacht.”

Instead of putting things to order as
he had. intended, he reduced the speed
yet more, looked at the water-gauge,
threw on a few shovels of coal, and
started for the pilot-house.

Seth had not recovered, and Bart seemed
leased to have a companion, for the pal-
or of his face told what a fight he was

making against the nausea.

“Do youown this craft?” Tom asked,
abruptly.

“No; but I’ve got her in charge, and
the owner is willing for me to take a
short cruise.”

“Tt’ll cost a pretty penny to run her to
Florida and back.”

“That don't worry me. There’s plenty
of grub an’ coal aboard, so I sha’n’t have
to spend much.”

“Are you the engineer?”

“Not exacty,” Bart replied, hesitat-
ingly, fearing to lie to one who could so
readily learn that he knew very little
about machinery. “I’ve been running
her the last few months.”

“Who owns her”

“Captain Joseph Shandley.”

Bart had not intended to tell the truth
in this particular, but the words slipped
out almost against his will.

“hen I’m on the Sea Gull!”

“Of course; do you know her?”

“We towed her half a dozen times
while the boilers were being changed;
but you wasn’t on board.”

“T’ve only had the care of her about two
months,”

“Were-you in command last week?”

“Who else would have been?” Bart
asked, boldly; but it was evident he felt
far from comfortable in mind.

“We towed her Tuesday, and were
hooked on all day. I was aboard twenty
times, and will swear you had nothing
to do with her then.”

Bart may have been ascoundrel; but he
certainly was not a fool. ;

He understood that Tom had suspicions
regarding his story, and he knew per-
fectly well he could not allay them, for
the new-comer appeared to be better ac-
quainted with the Sea Gull than himself.

“Say!” he began, aftera short pause, “I
might as well give you the straight
story.”

“T reckon so; but be careful not to com-
mence by sticking to the yarn that you’ve
been running this craft for the owner.”

At this point Seth turned to look in
surprise at the leader of the expedition
who appeared ready to make a confession ;
but the warning glance was unheeded.

Bart had come to understand that it
was impossible for him and his friends to
sail the yacht any distance unaided, and
he hoped to enlist Tom.

“The whole truth is that we stole her
a little after sunset,” he said, abruptly,

later -Tom whistled

 

“I didn’t count on the other fellers bein’
sick, an’ now I don’t know what’ll be
the end of this thing if you won’t turn to
an’ help us. You’ll be the engineer, an’
shan’t have todo any more work than
the rest of us.”

“It seems as if you had got yourself
into a snarl,” Tom replied, speaking
slowly, as if weighing every word. “I’m
willing to take charge of the engine if
you’ll promise one thing.”

“What's that?” Bart asked, eagerly,
surprised and delighted at having, as he
believed, won the victory so quickly.

“Head her for New York, and I’1l do
my best to help get her there.”

“Now you’re talkin’ foolishness. We
should be arrested the first thing, an’ I
don't reckon on goin’ to jail when there’s
no need of it.”

; That's where you’ll land sooner or
ater.

“Perhaps so; but
talkin’ about it now.
this yacht to Florida?”

“Never !|”

“Then I’ll drop you over the rail where
you come from,” and Bart left the wheel
to advance threatening] v.

“TI shall have something to say about
that,” Tom replied, as he picked against
the door leading to the sailing-master’s
room. “It will take more than one fellow
to throw me over, and just now you've
got your hands full to keep her from fall-
ing into the trough of the sea.”

As Tom spoke the little craft broached
to, and the leader of the expedition was
forced to tyrn his attention to the wheel
again.

“It may be that you can hold on till
these fools get over bein’ sick,” he said,
as he shook his fist in impotent rage;
“but wait till then.”

Tom was ata loss to know exactly
what should be done.

If he continued on with these fellows
he would be looked upon as a thief, and
yet how could he hope to accomplish any-
thing against three?

It was a vexed question to solve, and
in order that he might think the matter
over calmly, he left the pilot-house, re-
turning to the engine-room.

Here the machinery demanded his im-
mediate attention, and he was forced to
do acertain amount of work or run the
risk of having the yacht so far wrecked
that it would be impossible to get her
back to port.

While he was thus engaged the outer
door was slammed toand locked by some
one from the outside, and an instant later
the entrance to the forward cabin was
secured in the same manner.

“They count on making me beara hand,”
he said, grimly, “and it remains to be
seen who'll get the best end of the bar-
gain. It’s acase of putting about now,
or laying still.”

His hand was on the lever to stop the
engine, when the whistle of the speak-
ing tube sounded, and he opened it to
hear what Bart had to say.

“T reckon you know what'll happen if
you don’t mind your eye?”

“Well?”

“You're to stay there. If the work is
done you'll be fed; if not, go hungry, and
take the chances of bein’ swamped with
the rest of us.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do,”
Tom. replied, as he stopped the engine.
“If you try to get in here I’]] give you a
dose of hot steam, and this craft doesn’t

Oo + a until she is headed for New

ork.”

“We can stand it if you can,” was the
reply, and then the tube was closed with
a snap.

When she lost headway the little craft
broached to once more, and beyan to roll
and plunge inthe trough of the heavy
sea in such a manner as to suggest the
danger that the upright boilers might be
wrenched from their fastenings.

In the wheel-house Seth, Rast,
Bart were holding a consultation.

The new and rather startling incidents
of the past half-hour had frightened the

there’s no need
Will you help run

and

two first-named from their sickness, and

they were trying to decide what should
be done.

That a storm was rapidly brewing there
could be no question.

The wind had increased in force until
it literally blew the yacht rail-under,
and Bart said with an oath:

“Somethin’s got to be done or we’ll be
swamped before morning. If you fellers
have nerve enough to stand by the wheel
I’J] see what can be done; but we’re
bound to have a fight with that chump.”

“You had no business to Took him in
where hecould stop the engine,” Rast
replied, angrily.

“You're a fine one to talk about what’s
been done. If I’d depended on you we’d
been in jail two hours ago,” was the
fierce retort, and then Bart descended the
stairs to try conclusions with the boy
who apparently held the whip hand,

(tO BE CONTINUED.)

  

 

   
   
  
      
    
   
  
    
   
    
    
   
    
   
    
  
    
    
     
  
    
    
    
 
    
  
   
   
 
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
   
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
   
   
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
  

gold, ani
make th
with she
There»
ays of r
tramp da
Minster,
My ma
Said that
chance a
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Ossessic
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Some ch
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Cided m
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We
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Kactly

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sg im-
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cS

(tention:

A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE.

io

7] WAS one of the lucky ones. I with
S14 several more, had hit upon a rich
Cd . bar in the upper waters of the Fraser,
’ and we had all done more or less
Well—so well that after quite a short
Spell of working, in and out of the
water, five times as hard as any navvy, |
lad a good twenty pounds’ weight of
gold, and I had said to myself I would

make that safe before I did another stroke
With shovel or pan.

There was only one way in those early
days of making it safe, and that to
tramp down along the trail to New West-
minster, and place it in the bank.

My mates told me I was a fool, for they
Said that I might never hit upon such a
chance as we had there; but | yd my self
I should bea fool if I stayed. For the
y0Ssession of a thousand pounds ina law-
€ss region made me us of every
body,

Perhaps not without cause, for we had
Some cheerful people about, and in the
Course of a fortnight, one poor fellow had
been found with a bullet through his
head, and another with his skull split
Open—both men who were known to have
Made piles. ‘hese cases had nearly de
Cided me to go, when one morning, as
We were about to start work at daylight,
we found the body of a man washed up
DY the river close to our bar, and on turn-
Ing him over we saw that it was Tom
Denison, whom we knew as being one of
the lucky ones ud at the placer d
4 mile higher up the stream.

That settled me, and directly it was
dark, I started without saying a word to
@ soul.

I was afraid to speak, for, as I told
you, I was suspicious of everybody, but
above all of Mark Green, a quiet, reserved-
Ooking fellow, who had always worked
Y my side, but with whom I had never
been friends. For he was a strange,
Sinister-looking man, who would toil all
Gay with shovel, pan, or cradle, and never
Speak a word. Heknew what I had done,
and I knew pretty well what he had done;
4nd on the morning we found that body
Washed up by the roaring torrent, some-

Ing seemed to whisper to me that if I
Stayed my remains would be found: lower
down the stream, and that the day they
Were picked up Mark Green's pile of gold
Would be about doubled.

That night when I started, I had alittle |
flask of rye whisky, a good-sized plain
dough cake, my revolver and knife, and
My gold in dust and tiny scales and water-
Worm grains ina big leather helt, roughly
8€wn in partitions. This was slung over
my right shoulder, and under my left
arm. It was put on under my flannel
Shirt, and to hide it from ordinary ob-
Servers I carried my blankets across my
Shoulder like a great thick scarf. :

was

suspl

opines,

 

That belt of gold—twenty pounds
Weight, mind you—felt heavy when |
Started : before I had gone far it seemed
to grow heavier, and began to hurt.

Now I just want you to try and under-
Stand what I had undertaken to do, so
Set to and picture to yourself my road

down from the gold

: Here it is
Simply and

crack cut

ars,
plainly—a vast

deeply in a wild mountainous country,

1ere even in summer the peaks are
Covered with snow, and down at the bot-
tom of this great rift or gash, jagged and
12 24Rged and winding ‘in all directions,
the, 8reat torrent-like river running

‘TOUgh terrible gorges or canons, some of
“em so narrow and deep that close down
a the river it was quite twilight at mid-
we In those days there was no road,
fesbic * a path, nothing but a trail,
riy Y marked in_ places, the rushing

Ver being the guide down to the sea.
rect grand, a beautiful, a fascinating
of they for there was gold in the sands
Sit cr river where there were eddies

@ still waters, gold that had been wash-
ng down for ages, and where will not
&n penetrate for gold?

w lad come up with a party; now |
te? 80ing back alone, my intentions be- |
& to stop here and there at tiny camps

Or r; ,
- Tanches and buy food, sleeping in the

Ores ;

mace by night when it was too dark to

neve) and in all cases trying to avoid |
W adventurers on their’ way up, for

dix Scum of the earth was floating in that

that ious and I fully believed, and justly,
whose tere would be menI might meet
Seek e notions on gold seeking were to
lad at in the possession of those who |
they worked for it like slaves, while if|
lawlese sted every man in that then
rive SS region was well armed, and the

T made a clean sweep of crime.
Sot on well for three days, only pass-
One party, and they did not see me,
the took to the woods and rested till
®y had gone by. Now and thenI came |
& rough “shack,” as they call moet
Settle ere—a hut or shed raised by some
divian, +t Started by an enterprising In-
On th ai to sell food and drink to miners
such clr way up; but Ionly stopped at
Places when driven for food, making |

in
f g

Ont ¢

 

t
my resting-place under some large spruce,

whose drooping boughs supplied bed and
shelter, and fire too when it was cold.

And glorious nights those were, when,
after my frugal supper of bread and
bacon, I lay back on my bed of spruce or
Douglas pine boughs, smoking, and
watching the stars peering over the snow
peaks. A day nearer my journey’s end,
and the safe depository of my hard-earned
gold,

After al
ff aga
cuts

avoid

ght meal in the morning, I
n, frequently trying to make
through the pine forest,
the track. Five very satis-
factory days passed like this, and then
came one in which I was glad enough to
keep to the faintly marked trail. For the
morning broke stormy, and I tramped on
through drenching rains, with the wind
howling down the gorge, and night came

was I

short

as to

so

on at last to find me faint, hungry, and
depressed, feeling that this night, at all
events, | must risk sleeping at the first

hut or ranch I could find, for to
to camp in the forest that night
food was madness.

A sensible resolve, but now that I
resolved to put it in force, there was
shelter to be found.

[It must have been dark quite four hours,

attempt
without

had
no

and I was stumbling on, with my feet
slipping on the wet stones, the dripping
pine boughs sweeping against my face,

and a drowsy feeling of numbing despair
coming over me, suggesting that I must
soon drop, for I had not a scrap of. food,
my flask was empty, and my matches
were so wet that I could not even indulge
in the luxury of a pipe. Below me on
my right, and so close that J had to be
careful lest I should slip in and be swept
away, the river raced along,
swollen by the rain, and I once
myself thinking how restful it would be
to give up the struggle, and let it bear
me off to oblivion, when my heart gave a
bound, for there just before me, dimly
seen through the blinding rain, was the
glow as of a fire.

“Save it or lose
‘I must

found

it,” I said to myself,
have food and shelter!” and I
staggered on, to find myself at last gaz-
ing through a real glass window at the

heavily |

glowing embers of a fire, my hands rest- |

ing on sawn boards, the walls of a
rough hut.

[ knocked. Again. More heavily, and
then came a rough demand:

“Who’s there?”

“Traveler,” I said, “dead beat.”

“Full,” was growled, in a surly
“Can’t come here.”

“But I’m dying with
hunger,” I cried,

“Sorry for you. Good-night, mate.”

I felé stunned, and stood speechless at
my reception. Then a wave of anger ran

large

voice.

exhaustion and

through me, and I beat heavily on the
door.

Bang—thud!

Some one had fired a pistol, and the

bullet crashed through the rough planks
of the door.

“Shall I give you another?”
same rough voice.

“Good heavens, man!” I cried, “have
you no pity? I’ll pay you well. Give
me shelter, at all events; I am in dis-
tress.”

“How do I know that?” was roared.

sarton down below was knocked on the
head that way. I don’t risk it
dark for no man. Once I’m shut up, I’m
shut.”

“But I shall perish with cold and hun-
ger. I must have shelter.”

“There you are, then.
mill loft; plenty o’ clean
the roof’s new and sound.”

I uttered a sigh of relief and began to
grope about. A saw-mill. That must

cried the

Go up in the
sawdust, and

after |

be |

close to the river, and I had no difficulty |

in finding my way among logs and planks
to an open doorway, through which I
peered, and stood inhaling the faint odor
of turpentine and the damp spray of fall-
ing water, while a tremendously fierce
rushing sound told me that there was a
shoot of the river somewhere at my feet.

I dared not enter there. Perhaps it
would have been to step into the stream

which turned the mill, and with my de-
spair increasing, I began to feel about

me till my hand touched the rounds of a |
| Thought
climbing, to |

rough ladder or set of steps.
The next moment I was

|I was feeling my breast to find that

find directly a door, which swung open |

to my pressure, and the familiar odor of
sawdust struck upon my nostrils at once.

I stepped in cautiously, to find loose
planks beneath my feet, and the door
swung to at once, while the sense of

warmth and shelter was so grateful that |

with a sigh of relief I groped my way in
the dark, my arms extended, and my ears

| strained to catch a sound.

But save the muffled roar of the wind
and river, all was still; and thankful for
this relief, I went on exploring til] a
loose board upon which I had stepped
gave a loud clap, and my heart beat
heavily as my hand went to my revolver
butt.

I knew at once that the noise was of

|

 

  
  
    

GooD NEwSsB.

1747

 

my own
more groping about I made my way back
to the door to try and faster it, but there

was no log that I could wedge it with,
nothing but newly-sawn planks, and I
returned to where lI had felt the loose

  

my feet, unroll

beneath I
spite or my wet clotl

sawdust

blanket, and, in 1es
covered myself, and soon began to fee
a sense of warmth and drowsiness, which
were increasing fast when I started into
wakefulness, and raised myself on one
arm to listen. ;

Certainly that was a rustling noise

which had awakened me, and then

came
hard, smothered breathing, and the dew
began to collect on my brow as thoughts
rushed rapidly through my brain. I had

escaped so far, and had now walked right
into a trap; for there one in
the loft, some one who must have tracked
me, perhaps, ever since I started; and
now I was to be robbed, perhaps mur-
dered, and I recalled with painful vivid-
1ess the bodies I had “swept down
yy the stream.
“What should I do?”
up and rush for the d
In the darkness and strange confusion
of my senses, I could not tell where the
door lay, and I lly saw myself fall-
ing over the planks and |
Then all was still, and I in the
darkness, listening and upbraiding my-

was some

I seen
I
I thought; “leap

or ¢

(
}

l

ot
menta
Sst

waltea

self for not having made some better
effort to secure.the door—for having lain
down without further search—for not
trusting to the shelter of the pines. And
all so still. Had I been mistaken and
woke up in a fright, ready to imagine
anything?

The answer came in a sharp crack.

The board was yielding now toa heavy
tread not mine; and frantic with despair,
I sprang to my feet to defend my life to
the last gasp, when I wassuddenly seized
by strong, nervous hands, and closed with
an enemy whose hot breath came panting
heavily in my face.

[ had made an effort to get at my re-
volver, but it was vain. I had not time,
and I tried to get my adversary by the
throat in the desperate struggle which
ensued.

In less thana minute I found that I
had to deal with a far stronger man, or
else one less weakened by poor living and
exertion. For, in spite of my efforts, he
bore me back till my heels caught against
a pile of planks, and I fell back at his
mercy, thinking those three horrible
thoughts, with my head resting
against the woodwork of the mill, I gid-
dily listened to the thundering of
rushing water and the rattling of the
shingles on the roof, as a sudden flood of
water set at liberty by the washing away
of some natural dam smote the building,
and threatened to bear it away.

as,

At the end of a few minutes, asI was
held back, I recovered myself a little,
made a sudden bound, and this time
wrenched out my revolver and fired

twice, the flashes cutting the darkness
as my adversary replied.

Then we closed again, and in the fierce
struggle I fell, my head striking against

the corner of a pile of boards, and all |
was blank.

When I regained my senses a lantern
was being held close to my eyes, and a

rough voice said:

“Help him along. I sha’n’t
longer; the water’s rising
strikes me that ’fore mornin’
go.”

“Better, mate?” said a familiar voice.

“Mark Green!” I whispered, feebly.

“Do you two want to be drowned?” said
the man with the lantern, “’cause I don't.
I’ve warned you, look out for your
selves.”

I was now aware that the building was
quivering strangely as I accepted my fel-
low-miner’s help, reached the door, and
was helped down the ladder into quite a
fierce stream, where it was dry land
when I went up, saving the rain.

“ W here’s—that—-

stop
fast, and
down she’ll

50

|
se : |
production, and after a little

In fact, when Mark Green and I re-
turned, after safely depositing our gold,
we found the man hard at work repairing

  

 

. week later Mark and I were work-
ing side by side again with perfect faith
in one another. He was not a pleasant
fellow to look at, terribly reserved, but
a thoroughly staunch friend, and we often
used to say that if we had trusted one
another we should not have had such a
night.

———_—~-¢-#- -- -
A DESPERATE COMBAT.
BY ROGER STARBUCK.
days after passing through

hriz Straits we, the crew of
» whaler Fingal, of New London,

erienced a heavy gale, that made

o's
=

 

the old ship tremble and quiver as if
about to fly into a thousand pieces.
All around us were fragments ot ice,

with some of which we frequently came

incontact. Every blow from these masses
maae the craft reel and her timbers crack,
whue the force of the shock nearly threw

T
from their

had gone

feet. One poor fel-
aloft to arrange a
gasket that had blown loose, was thrown
from the footrope to the deck, breaking
a leg, and spraining his arm severely.
We had at the wheel two good men,
who were obliged to exert almost super-
human strength and activity to prevent
the ship from running afowl of some of
the larger, more solid bergs, which would
have crushed her bows like an eggshell.
Ahead of us, however, there was a large
floe which we feared we could not avoid,
although the captain had crowded all the
sai! he could bear, hoping to edge off to
windward of it. The huge topsails, filled

the men

iow, WHO

;

almost to bursting by the gale, seemed
to threaten every moment to carry away
oul masts, which kept creaking and

cracking with-every pitch and roll of the
vessel.

We kept nearing the floe with tremen-
dous velocity. There it was, now less
than a league ahead of us, the huge bergs
looming high, and the great seas dashing
against them with the roar of a thousand
thunderbolts. All aiong the edge of the
floe the water was tossed into sheets of
hissing spray, rising hundreds of feet
into the air.

Soon we were within twenty fathoms
of the dangerous masses, when it became
evident that we would not clear them.

The first mate, a long-limbed Sag Har-
borman, standing six feet four in his
stockings, and accounted one of the best
seamen that ever trod a ship’s deck, now

tl ]. His quick eye had

sprang to the whee}.
through the floe, a uarrow pas-

detected,
sage leading diagonally to theclear space
of water beyond. Into thfs passage, while
all the rest the men were expecting
the ship would be dashed to pieces, he
directed the vessel by suddenly raising

of

up the wheel, and kept her steadliy
along to the clear water.
While all hands, thankful for their

narrow escape, were watching the reced-
ing floe, the man on the lookout was
heard screaming at the top of his voice,

“Sail O!—of a wreck off there in the

| ice!”
no

we then beheld what
owing to interposing walls
hidden from our sight,

Glancing astern
had hitherto,
of ice, been

| the dismasted hull ef a ship, driven along

My memory had quite come back, and

my
gold was all safe. i

“Hush!” was whispered; “don’t talk
about it. Mistake. I sloped off when I
found you’d gone, to do same as you did.
we'd be mates to the end. I
was sleeping there to-night—s’pose I’d
passed you on the way—and I woke think-
ing some one had come to murder me.”

“That’s what I did,” I said.

“Yes,” he grumbled, “and you've sent a
shot through my arm.”

“Then it was all a mistake?” I said.

“Yes; all a mistake.”

At that moment there was a crash,
and the lantern was held up on high.

“Lucky I come and roused you two,”
said the owner of the mill; “there goes
a year’s work. Here, come in to the

fire. I s’pose you're all right.”

The néxt morning was fine, but the
saw-mill had been completely swept
away. The owner took it coolly though.

“Saw’s all right,” he said, “and wood
costs nothing here.”

through the ice. Upon the quarter-deck,
clinging tosome rigging, we saw a girl
whom the captain, looking through his
glass, soon pronounced young and beauti-
ful.

“We must save her!” he shouted,

“Next to impossible!” cried the mate.
“Still, I'm willing to go down and try
with the larboard boat.”

A whaleboat can live in a very rough
seine made of light material, how-
ever, it is easily stoven.

The mate lowered with a stout crew,
who, pulling vigorously, soon were along-
side the floe. There were many very
narrow passages between the bergs, and
into one of these the boat was directed.

Crash! came a heavy ice-block, falling
upon it, and over went the boat!

The crew, clinging to the bottom, soon
righted their craft and took to their oars,
glad of the exercise after their immersion.
In spite of all his exertions, however, the
mate found it impossible to keep his boat
clear of the ice, which, closing round it,
soon stove it to pieces.

The crew had escaped by crawling out

sea.

|upon a large berg, and now, clinging to

the projections with half-frozen fingers,
they watched their ship, which had been
signaled, and from which they mo-
mentarily expected to behold a boat ap-
proaching to their rescue. In fact a boat
soon was lowered, but before it had more
than half accomplished the league be-
tween the castaways and their vessel, it
was hidden from sight by thick fog
clouds, which had gradually been gather-

} ing along the horizon.

   
  
 
   
 
  
  
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
 
 
   
 
  
  
      
    
  
 
   
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
    
   
   
    
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
      
   
    
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
    
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
      
    
     
 
     
  
 
   
  
      
    
   
   
    
  
  
 
   
    
     
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
    
    
  
   
   
 
   
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
 
 
   
   
     
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
    
  
  
 
   
  
   
  
     
    
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
   
   
 
 
  
   
 
   
 
 
 
  

1748

Goonp

NEWS.

  

 

Carried along by wind and current, the
party on the ice vainly waited for the
voat.

This must have passed them in the fog,

for the roar of the wind drowned their

shouts and also the blast of their boat-
horn, which they had continued to sound,

‘They passed a dreary night.

The gale abated by morning toa moder-
ate breeze, and the fog hadcleared. They
saw no sign of their ship, however, but
glancing astern of them, they beheld the
wreck, seen on the previous day, wedged
in between the ice-drifts. It lay over al-
most’ upon its beam-ends, some of the
bergs rising above the bow, and the bul-
warks amidships.

“Ay, ay, now,” said the mate, lcoking
at the wreck through his glass. “I see
no sign of the girl we saw yesterday.
What can have become of her?”

“Perhaps we can get to the wreck over
the bergs,” said William Clyde, his har-
pooner, a tall, good-looking young fellow
of twenty-five. “We can then easily find
out if she’s aboard.”

“True,” answered the mate, “but who’d
risk getting to the wreck over them

bergs ahead, which are most too far apart |

to be jumped?”

“TI will go,” said Clyde.
leap them.”

“Well, if you think you can, you may
go; but I would not undertake it.”

The young man, thrusting the boat
hatchet in his belt, started at once. Pos-
sessed of uncommon agility, he continued,
though not without great exertion and
some very narrow escapes, to leap the
bergs between him and the wreck. Ar-
rived aboard, he glanced round him, but
saw no animated being of any kind ex-
cept a seal, which was seated upon the
weather rail. He descended into the
cabin, which was deserted. Then he
made his way to the forecastle, which he
also found empty. He had returned to
the deck, and was about lifting one of
the hatches, to inspect the hold, when
he heard a deep, smothered growl, ap-

arently right beneathhim. Wondering,
he paused and listened, to hear the sound
_ repeated several times. Then he lifted
the hatch and glanced down, to behold a
most unexpected sight. Directly beneath
him was a huge white bear, whose legs
had become entangled in some coils of
rigging, from which the creature was en-
deavoring to extricate itself.

At the same moment the young man
distinguished the voice of a female.

“Help! help! help!”

He sprang at once into the hold, when,
in one corner, shrinking behind a cask,
he beheld a_ beautiful young girl of
eighteen. Her whole countenance was
full of terror, and she trembled from head
to foot. She wasso situated that she
could not leave her narrow quarters with-
out passing close to the bear, which, it
was evident, was eager to spring upon
and devour her.

With a fierce growl the animal made
a snap at Clyde as he was passing it, but
luckily its teeth only caught in his coat.

He vainly endeavored to disengage
himself, the bear holding on with a vice-
like grasp; so, lifting his hatchet, he
aimed afurious blow at the creature’s
head. He missed his aim, and the blade
of the weapon, striking the ropes in which
the bear’s legs were entangled, severed
them, setting the ferocious beast at
liberty !

Now then the animal, throwing himself
upon his enemy, clasped him in his paws,
when his adversary drove his sheath-knife
to the hilt in the creature’s stomach.
The bear, however, having already planted
two-of its front teeth in the salior’s
shoulder, bore him down. It must then
have fared hard with the young man, but
for the coils of large rope among which he
had fallen, and which kept off the bear’s
paws and teeth.

The animal seemed to grow fiercer every
moment, as its life-blood flowed. Snap-
ping and snarling, twisting itself from
side to side, it kept the young man _ pros-
trate in such a position that he could not
use his arms. Soon the beast gave a
hoarse, prolonged growl, and then opened
its jaws wide to grasp the head of its
adversary.

Clyde, tratetante by this time recovered the
use of the arm which held the hatchet,
lifted his weapon and struck the bear’s
jaw afurious blow. Before he could re-
peat it the hatchet was knocked from his
rrasp by a stroke from one of the animal’s
fous paws. Then downcame the bristling
jaws to close over the young man’s head,
when the girl, who, hitherto held motion-
less from mingled feelings of surprise,
terror and anxiety, had not moved, caught
up the hatchet, and with the strength
lent by feverish excitment, struck the
bear a heavy blow upon the neck. Con-
siderably weakened from Ioss of blood,
the bear, now staggering, fell partly upon
its side, when, spe tang quickly to his
feet, and snatching the hatchet doom the
girl’s hand, Clyde finished the bear with
a few blows.

From the noble girl, whose life he had
saved, and who had been the means of

“T think I can

 

saving his, he now learned that the name
of the wreck was the Mt. Vernon.
When, at night, her crew became con-
vinced that she would be driven into the
ice, they lowered the boats, the captain
remaining aboard the last man, and his
daughter insisting to remain with him.
Finally the captain stepped into the boat,
and was about helping his daughter, in
after him, when, owing to the furious roll
of the ship, the ropes attached to the
boats parted, causing them to drift clear
of the wreck, leaving the young girl still
aboard. Since then she had seen nothing
of the boats.

The bear had crawled on deck from one
of the bergs among which the craft. was
jammed, and, as shown, the girl had tried
to escape him by running into the hold.
The bear followed, and must soon have
overtaken her, but for the ropes in which
it became entangled. It had remained
in this situation for an hour when Clyde
came aboard, and doubtless must soon
have extricated itself and devoured its
intended victim, but for the young sailor's
timely arrival.

I have only to add that the Fingal hove
in sight before noon, and that Clyde, with
the young girl and his shipmates, soon
was picked up.

Subsec rr it was ascertained that
the Mt. Vernon’s crew had sacceeded in
gaining the shores of an island off the
Hsquimaux coast, from which they were
picked up by a French whaler.

Words may not express the intense joy
of the wrecked captain when he finally
clasped to his bosom the daughter whom
he had given up forlost. He thanked her
preserver warmly, and the two soon be-
came great friends.

A year later, William Clyde married
the aaaieiets of the Mt. Vernon’s captain
—Thomas Aston, of New Bedford—and
I have every reason to believe that the
twain lead a hapny life.
~~ 0-

THE MESSENGER’S PLUCK.

BY CHESTER F. BAIRD.

> dantrindn

 

MYSTERIOUS affair occurred on

the —— Railroad nota great while
- ago, that caused the officials to
~“ think that our modern rascals have
become adepts at originating new methods
for every new robbery or attempt at rob-
bery. In this case it failed of successful
accomplishment if it really was a case
of intended robbery, through the vigilance
of an express messenger; and the villain
in the little drama, although effecting
his escape, cannot boast of the success of
the play, if the first scenes did bring
down the house. ;

One night the night express left C——
with a good run of passengers. Noth-
ing occurred out of the usual order of
things to break the monotony of travel
until half the distance over the road had
been accomplished, when a middle-aged,
gentlemanly-looking man, who_ had been
complaining of feeling unwell, and to
whom the brakeman had carried water
several times, suddenly arose from his
seat, started toward the end of. the car,
stopped, wheeled half around, and, be-
fore any of the out-stretched arms could
reach him, fell at full length on the floor,
He was raised up, placed on one of the
seats, his collar loosened, water dashed
in his face, brandy poured in his mouth,
and everything done that could be thought
of to resuscitate him, but to no purpose.

A gentleman who made himself known
as a physician, carefully felt for the pulse
of the unconscious man, placed his hand
over his heart, applied his ear to his
mouth, and then arose, and with a
grave and shocked countenance _ pro-
nounced him dead. The same gentleman
examined the pockets of the deceased,
but found no ohn to his place of resi-

‘

    

dence. The conductor said his ticket
was to H——.
The medical gentleman then said

that as that was his destination also, he
would see the corpse off at that point,
and in the hands of the proper authorities,
and also endeavor to find the friends and
relatives, and notify them of the sad event,

“In the meantime hadn’t the conduc-
tor better have the body removed to the
bag zage car? The passengers were averse
to riding in the same car with a corpse,”

The conductor thought he had, and the
gentlemanly-looking corpse was duly de-
posited on an impromptu bier, improvised
from divers boxes and bales among the
express goods; for, on that run, when
there was little express freight, the ex-

ress messenger occupied one end of tbe

aggage car, and the bapuneenenunr the
other.

The express messenger cannot leave his
car for an instant, from one end of the
road to the other, but the baggage-master
can; and so it was but a short time after
the corpse was placed in the baggage car
before the messenger was its sole oc-

cupant.
Nov, although messengers are accus-
tomed to the company of the dead—if

 

company it may be called—having often-
times several coffins disposed about them,
and obliged to use them as a seat at
times, for want of room to place a better,
it must be confessed that our messenger
did not feel altogether easy in his mind.
One will enjoy more comfortable feelings
facing a coffin containing adead man,
than a dead man lying exposed to view,
with his ghastly face dimly seen in the
gloom of an old car.

~ Was it any wonder then, that the idea
would come into his head that, as the
gentlemanly-looking corpse was not con-
fined in a coffin, he might roll off his
extemporized resting-place, and scare the
wits out of him by suddenly rising up
and inquiring as to his whereabouts?

But for all this he was a brave fellow,
and, as the sequel will show, cool and
determined in a case of emergency.

While busying himself writing up his
freight and money packages in his receipt
book, a chill passed over him, and with
it the inexplicable feeling we all have ex-
perienced, that he was being watched,
nee casting his eyes toward the
corpse, he was for an instant almost
paralyzed to see its eyes wide open and
staring at him. Remarkably large and
bright, too, they looked in the semi-dark-
ness of the old car.

Mustering up courage he approached
the body, but the eyes were closed, and
the deathly pallor of the rigid face as-
sured him that he had been mistaken.
Mentally cursing the cowardice and
timidity that had given rise to the hal-
lucination he returned to his work. But
over him flashed the remembrance of the
stories he had read, of death being
feigned by accomplished villains to ac-
complish some dreadful purpose.

He could not rid himself of this new
and startling idea, and, closing his safe
with a bang, he fixed his eyes on the
corpse.

He had hardly done so when again the
eyes opened, this time followed by the
mouth, which emitted a sound between
a sigh and a groan; then, with a stretch-
ing out of the arms and legs, and a groan
or two, the gentlemanly-looking corpse
arose to a sitting posture, and the follow-
ing conversation ensued:

“How came I here, and in such a posi-
tion?”

“You were brought in here about fif-
teen minutes ago as a corpse, and piaced
in my charge by the conductor and
others.”

“Asa corpse! How’s that? Ah, yes,
I recollect! I was suddenly taken ill in
the car. Iam subject to these attacks,
and they willsome day be the death of
me in good earnest.”

“Sir! I know nothing about that! But
I am inclined to think that you were not
so much of a corpse as you made out,”

“What do you mean, sir? How dare
you address an afflicted man in this way?”

“TI mean, sir, that I plainly saw your
eyes open some five minutes or more back,
and that I believe you have been sham-
ming for some purpose of your own.”

“What purpose—you rash young man—
what purpose could I have in thus placing
my life in jeopardy?”

“The purpose of robbery! Let me tell
you, sir, that express messengers are not
all fools, and ’tis my firm belief that did
I not hold this revolver in position for
instant use you would endeavor to over-
power me, and rob that safe. It is also
my firm belief that you shall not leave
this car until you are interviewed by an
officer, and if you attempt it you will be
a genuine corpse, in short order, let me
tell you!”

And despite the protestations of the
corpse, that was, the messenger re-
mained firm,

He was terribly cut up, and begged,
and pleaded, and even offered money to
be allowed to leave the car, but all to no
purpose—the plucky messenger was in-
flexible. ;

The baggage-master came in as they
approached the next station, and stared
in opened-mouthed wonder and dismay
at the corpse sitting up, ina very un-
corpse-like manner, covered by the mes-
senger’s revolver. The latter told him to
call the conductor, which he did without
delay, and that wondering official was in-
formed of what had occurred since he
helped compose the limbs of the seeming
corpse. The conductor thought with the
messenger that the affair had an ugly
and suspicious look, and decided to
telegraph from the next station for an
officer.

He did so, and on arriving at Newton
the gentleman-looking, and exceedingly
lively and indignant corpse was taken
into custody, vowing his innocence, and
his determination to prosecute all who
caused his detention.

He had an examination, but nothing
could be proved against him, and mere
suspicion not being sufficient to hold him,
he was discharged. He shook the dust
of that part of the country from his feet.
however, in great haste, and made no at-
prc at carrying his threats into execu-
tion,

 

Who he was, or what he was, and
whether his seeming death was real or
feigned, has never been determined.
The railroad and express officials were of
the opinion that it was feigned, and that
his intention was to take the messenger
off his guard, and after overpowering
him, rob the safes, and using the bell-
cord to slack up the train, make his es-
cape in the darkness. If this theory was
correct, then the pseudo-doctor was un-
doubtedly a confederate; and they well
knew the messenger was in the baggage-
car, and if the first part of their scheme
was. successful they apprehended no
difficulty.

But the uncomfortable feelings of the
messenger—we can hardly call it fear—
and his so soon setting himself to watch,
with his subsequent bravery and deter-
mination, foiled them inthe very mo-
ment of success.

The medical gentleman, who was to
take charge of the corpse, was not seen
after the arrest; but if the door of the
baggage-car could have been opened from
the outside without a key, the probabili-
ties are that the messenger would have
received medical treatment not laid down
in the rules of the profession.

>

WRESTLING WITH A BEAR.

0 tne

 

 

5) ILLY PAROTT, originally a black-
smith, then a sailor, had drifted
bo) to a Bengal indigo plantation,
Ts where he had charge of the machin-
ery. He wasa good-natured fellow, as
strong as a bull, and a splendid wrestler,
having learned every trick of that sport
from the many wrestling matches he had
engaged in while living in the North of
England. One day several of the Eng-
lish planters joined in a bear-shooting
excursion, and Billy accompanied them,
On arriving in the jungle they were
posted along the edge of a precipitous
gully on platforms in the trees, about
fifty yards apart, where they waited un-
til the coolies, beating the bush, drove up
the game.

After several deer had been shot; there
was a long, silent wait, while the coolies
were beating another part of the jungle.
Billy had left his platform, and was talk-
ing to the occupants of another, when
some one shouted, “Look out, you beg-
gars, there's a bear!”

A great she-bear rushed through the
bushes, accompanied by her cub, and
grunting savagely. She came close to
Billy, but would not have attacked him
had not one of the hunters splintered ber
lower jaw by a shot fromhisrifle. Then,
with a growl, she rose up and rushed for
Billy. e started to run, but his foot,
caught in a vine, and down to the ground
he fell. In an instant the bear was upon
him. The brute was powerless to bite,
because of her broken jaw; but she got
Billy in a close hug, and rolled over and
over with him in her arms.

Here Billy’s strength and his knowl-
edge of wrestling tricks served him. He
twisted his strong, bandy legs round. the
bear’s hind-quarters, thus keeping the
brute from tearing him with her hind
claws. His left elbow he got right under
the bear’s throat, a favorite wrestling
trick, by which he kept vhe beast’s mouth
from his face, and with his right fist he
dealt the bear in the face and ribs blow
after blow, that sounded above even bis
own mad shouts.

There was no chance for the other hun-
ters to shoot or to stab, as they might
have hurt Billy instead of the bear, who
was tearing the man’s shoulders with
her fore-claws. Over and over they rolled,
writhing, panting, struggling, and ap-
proaching the edge of the precipitous

gully.
The sportsmen were alarmed, but
powerless. As the wrestlers rolled peril-

ously near the precipice, Billy’s friends
rushed forward to save him. They were
too late; over went bear and man. The
hunters looked over the verge, and saw
the black, jumbled mass bound from an
overhanging ledge, and disappear down
the gloomy chasm. Not one of them ex-
pected to see Billy alive again.

Moody and silent, they went down the
steep descent accompanied by the coolies,
to find poor Billy’s body. Atlast they
got to the bottom of the ravine. A sound
caused them to pause. From the cavern-
ous bottom of the ravine they heard Billy
singing.

“Hurrah!” shouted again and again
the delighted hunters, and then rushed
down, over rocks and through creepers.
They found Billy alive, but torn and
bruised, sitting on the mangled carcass
of his late enemy. But he was sound in
wind and limb, while the bear’s rils
had been smashed in as a man crushes an
egg-shell. She fell first on the jagged
rock, and thus saved Billy from being
smashed into a mangled heap. One of the
party was a doctor, and by the evening,

Billy, propped up on a camp-bed, was :

again singing his chorus, “Twanke did-
dle, oh!”

 

oes eK ete ll ROO Ot Ss Domnm ® aw mK CO

peeetint.. a, A om gh oi we i it ba ow or

ee ne ee ee ae

  
 

is, and
real or
rmined,
were of
nd that
ssenger
ywering
ie bell-
his es-
ry was
as un-
Yy well
isezage
scheme
led no

of the
fear
watch,
| det er-
ry mo-
was to
it seen
of the
d from
babili-
1 have
1 down

AR.

black-
lrifted
ation,
achin
ow, as
estler,
sport
1e had
rth of

Eng-
ooting
them.

were
pitous
about
d un-
ve up

there
oolies
ingle.
3 talk-
when
1 beg-

h the
, and
se to
him
d her
Then,
ed for
foot
round
upon
bite,
ie got
and

10wl-
, He
l the
+ the
hind
inder
tling
iouth
t he
blow
| bis

hun-
light
who
with
lled,
ap-
itous

but
eril-
ends
were
The
saw
, an
own
ex-

the
lies,
they
und
ern-
silly

rain
hed
ers,
and
“ass
lin
ribs
san
ged
ing
the
ng,
vas

lid-

GOOD

NEWS.

1749

 

[THIS STORY WILL NOT BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK-FORM.}

Messenger No. 48;

OR,

THE BOY DETECTIVE.

BY JAMES OTIS,

Author of “Down thu Slope,” *

*assage.

Teddy's
“The

Venture,

[“ MESSENGER NO, 48” wascommenced in No. 105.

 

CHAPTER XI.
CLOSE QUARTERS.

Qu

yy F either of the party had looked at
Hj? the prisoner. when the were
( | heard it would have been possible
S59

shots

Something of the kind.

His face lighted up with an expression
of joy, and one could readily fancy he
believed the time near at hand when the
tables would be turned with a vengeance.

Harvey

; y was more chagrined than
frightened.

iy

The fact that he had not suspected

Something of the kind when it was learned
the house had been virtually abandoned,
Cut deep into his professional p ide, and
he blamed himself more severely than
any other member of the party could have
aone,

“A child would have had more sense
than to fancy they had given us the slip
and taken all their stuff with them,” he
Said, angrily. “I have simply done what
they allowed a fool would do, and now
we must pay the piper.”

“But they’ll make a mighty poor fist of
trying to take us out of here,” one of the
detectives said, consolingly.

“That goes without saying; but how
about our leaving when we get ready?
lhey have us where we can’t show our
hoses outside, and in this desolate spot
We needn’t expect any help, for it would
take a month of steady work fora per-

80n to find us, and I don’t reckon the
house is provisioned to stand such a
8lege,”

“I haven’t seen anything in the way
of food, and I've been into every room.”

“Most likely you’ll find that the stock
of water is quite as low. We're penned
up here without a chance of helping our-
Selves unless we’re willing to stand a
regular battle.”

" Well, I don't see why we shouldn’t be
able to do that. According to the boy’s
Story there are only three, without count-
ing this man, therefore the forces are
equal in numbers.”

“That is true; but they have the ad-
Vantage of position by being hidden in
the woods, and we can’t show our noses
Cut of doors without the certainty of act-
Ing as targets while they are under
Cover,”

It was not necessary to discuss the mat-
ter at any very great length in order to
Understand that they had voluntarily en-
tered a trap, and the entire party gazed
at each other in silence while the prisoner
appeared to enjoy the situation hugely.

“I can’t see why they want to pen us
Up here?” Jet said in a low tone to Har-
vey when the two were in one of the rear
rooms gazing from the window, and the
Temainder of the party were with the
Prisoner,

“It is plain enough,” was the petulant

reply. “When they found that you had
“Scaped it was quite natural to suppose
You would lead officers here. Those fel-

Ows wanted to get their precious bodies
Out of the way; but yet were not willing
to leave all their belongings behind. The
Work was done systematically. Every-
thing was first carried ashort distance
nto the woods,and a man left here on
Suard so we should be certain to come
‘to the trap.”

“Well?”

“Well, while we are here those fellows
are carting off their stuff, and when that
14s been safely done we shall be allowed
to go free, or they may possibly try to
rescue the prisoner, although that would
e needless, since we have no evidence
against him,”

Wouldn’t things be all right if you
fould know where the things were hid-
den?”

Of course; why do you ask?”
me Because it seems to me that I
Hip out of here after dark and

em,”

“There would be too much danger in
Such a job. They had rather get hold of
You than succeed in carrying the stuff
“Way, for you are an important witness
against them, and once in their hands
Your lease of life would be cut mighty
Short,” r

“Pll run the risk of their getting hold
of me,”
ties I won’t, so there
“iscussing the matter, I

might
watch

need of
going to

is no
am

Treasure Seekers,

‘In the Bad Lands,”

 

to understand that he was expecting |

 

“The Golden Cross,” “‘Through the Inland
“Chased Through Norway,” etc.

sack numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

post the men at the windows in the hope
we shall get a shot at one of the crowd,
and while that is being done you must
make another search of the house to find
out what we have got in the way of water
and provisions.”

Jet obeyed at once, and the detective
placed his assistants at. different points
where a view of the woods could be had,
impressing upon them the importance of
trying to shoot down one or more of the
besiegers.

A search of the building failed to reveal
anything which would aidin “holding
the fort.”

Not so much as a cracker could be
found, and the supply of water was hardly
more than a quart which had been left in
a pail on the kitchen table.

Harvey had nothing to say when Jet
made his report.
sistants in trying to get ashot at the
men, and seemed to think of nothing else.

Left to himself Jet wandered around

|
|

|
|
|
|

keep the house well guarded during the |
absence of the others.

“Above all things have your eyes open
for the prisoner,” Harvey said warningly.
“It is of the utmost importance that we
hold him, and you must shoot the fellow
rather than let him give you the slip.”

A series of signals were decided upon
so that the defenders might know when
their comrades were coming back; the
weapons were carefully examined to make
certain they were in good working order,
and then there was nothing to be done
but await the coming of night.

All hands were both hungry and thirsty ;
but since nothing could be done to re-
lieve their wants no one complained.

When the night had fully settled down
Harvey laid his hand on Jet’s shoulder
to signify that he was ready, for the
prisoner was to be kept in ignorance con-
cerning their movements, and the two,
followed by one of the other detectives,

| descended to the kitchen.

He had joined his as- |

3arricade the door as soon as we go
out,” the leader whispered, “for it isn’t
impossible that the men have crept nearer
the buiding since sunset.”

“Suppose you should meet them before
getting out of the house?”

“Then we must fight alone, unless you
can aid us from the upper window, for
I would rather get the worst of it than
to let that fellow escape. Follow me,
Jet, and don’t attempt to go ahead.”

Harvey opened the door softly, dropped
to his hands and knees, and crawled into
the yard.

Jet copied every movement, and the
two worked their way toward the barn,
stopping every few feet to listen for some |
sound from the enemy.

ae I

 

 

¥7
AMY L:

 

|
|

 

|

|
|
|

 

*‘*STAY WHERE YOU ARE, AND

the building trying to devise some means
of helping his companions, and before
noon he fancied he had a plan which
promised success.

At the rear of the house next to the
barn was a pile of fuel prepared for the
stove, and near by were two water bar-
rels.

“There is enough around to prevent
them from seeing me if I crawled out to
the barn, and I’m going to do it to-night
whether Mr. Harvey is willing or not,”
he said to himself, as he ascended the
stairs.

All the men were on guard; but noth-
ing suspicious had been seen.

“There is no need of their showing
themselves, and I question if more than
one is on guard,” Harvey said in reply to
the boy’s question.

“IT want to do something,” Jet said,
and then he explained the plan he had
formed. “There must be an outlet from
the barn at the back, and even if there
isn’t Tecan get through all right in the
darkness.”

“We can’t stay idle while those fellows
are carrying off their goods ” the detec-
tive, said after some thought, “and I be-
lieve I will go with you. We'll leave
the others here a while, and see what it
is possible to do.”

Set would have preferred to make the at-
tempt alone; but he could say
against the officer’s decision, and the lat-
ter at once began to make his plans.

The two men from Albany were told

 

ncthing |

what was Sto be tried, and cautioned to|

GIVE THEM A DOSE
LEAPING TO HIS FEET, THE DETECTIVE RAN AT FULL SPEED ACROSS THE OPENING.

|

|
|

SAID HARVEY TO JET, AND

All was quiet as the grave, and not
even so much as the rustling of the leaves
broke the stillness.

The barn door was not fastened, and
Harvey pulled it open a short distance,
rising to his feet as he gained the en-

| trance,

 

|

A moment later the two were in the
building groping their way from one

point to another in the hope of finding a
place of exit.

Now Harvey stopped for a final word.

“If it should happen that those fellows
on the outside get the best of me, make |
every effort to escape.”

“Not at the cost of leaving you alone.”

“At any price, so that you can telegraph
in my name for more men to. be sent up.” |

“Do you want the inspector to know it?”

“No; wire the chief of police at Al- |
bany, and wait at the first station you
reach for them to come. Here is money.”

He handed Jet what seemed like quite |
a large roll of bills, and then advanced in
the darkness once more.

By good fortune rather than skill he
found, a moment later, that for which he
was seeking.

A small window, used for throwing out
offal, was before him, and through this
he crawled, turning, as he gained the out-
side, to assist Jet.

They were now in the shadow of the
building with acleared space of about
twenty yards to be tiaversed before they
could gain the shelter of the trees.

 

Again the detective dropped to his
hands and knees, Jet following his ex-
ample.

| speed

Silently and cautiously they crept across
the opening; but just as they were half
way it seemed to Jet as\if a solid sheet
of fire lighted up the clearing, and the
which followed were almost
deafening.

The enemy had expécted exactly the

reports

move which was being made, and were

counting on killing their foes.
Fortunately the bullets had passed over
the heads of the two reclining figures,
and Jet about to leap to his feet
when Harvey said sternly:
“Stay where you are, and give them a
aose
At the same instant he began firing his
revolver, aiming at the place from which
the flash of weapons had been seen.

was

Jet did as he was bidden until his
weapon was emptied, and then he saw
Harvey leap to his feet and run at full

speed diagonally aeross the opening.

He did the same, loading the weapon as
he went, and just as both reached the
fringe of foliage the detective fell before
the fire of those in the woods.

“Are you hurt?” Jet whispered as he
knelt by the side of his friend regardless
of the danger.

“They have put a bullet through my
leg, and I reckon that does me up.”

“Let me try to get you back.”

“It can’t be done, my boy. Remember
what I told you, and start at once.”

“But I don’t want to leave you here!”

“You. must; our only hope is that you
can reach a telegraph station. Run the
best you know how whileI give them
something to occupy their attention.”

Jet hesitated no longer.

It seemed cruel to desert a wounded
friend; but the order had been given, and
he could not refuse to obey it.

Harvey discharged his weapon rapidly,

}and the boy ran at full speed in the op-

posite direction fearing he would never
again see in life the man who had
promised to befriend him.

CHAPTER XII.
THE ENCOUNTER.

JET was now traveling over a coun-
* try with which he was not familiar,
and to continue on would be to take
great chances of losing his way, at
least during the hours of darkness.

It was necessary, therefore. or at least
he thought so, to get into that section of
the woods over which he had .previously

  

~§%

, | journeyed.

l'o do this he was forced to make a half
circle around the building, and as he ran,
keeping at about the same distance from
the house as he and Harvey had gained,
the sounds of the conflict could be dis-
tinctly heard.

Judging from the noise, one would say
at least half a dozen men were engaged,

land Jet said to himself:

“The men from Albany are taking a
hand in the row, probably firing from the
windows. If they could wipe the whole
gang out there wouldn’t be any need for
me to try to strike a telegraph office.”

He could not afford to await the result
of the contest, however, for if his friends
were worsted just so much valuable time
would be lost, and he pressed on at full
until, when he was near the spot
where he began his first journey, there

| was a rustling of the foliage in front of

him as a voice cried:

“Hold up or I’ll fire!”

That this threat was made by one of
the gang from whom he was frying to
escape there could be no question, and Jet
darted aside quickly as he cocked his re-
volver.

This had hardly been done when he saw
along tongue of flame leap out of the
bushes at the right, not more than ten
feet away, and a bullet whistled so near
his ear that he could hear it shrieking like
a minnie ball.

If he could wound one of these fellows
matters would be just so much_ better
for his friends, and jumping behind the
trunk of a tree he fired every chamber of
his revolver as rapidly as possible. |

Not until the weapon was emptied did
he start on his course again, shoving cart-
ridges in the chambers as he ran, and fol-
lowed by a volley of shots.

It was evident he had not done any
damage, and once more he wheeled and
fired,

There was no reply to this last fusillade,
and he continued the flight, straining
every muscle to outdistance the enemy in
case an attempt should be made to follow
him.

At the expiration of ten minutes he
was forced to halt in order to regain his
breath, and while standing panting and
blowing behind a tree he listened for some
token of the enemy.

Not a sound, save those made by him-
self, broke the silence of the forest, and
there was every reason to believe he had
for the second time given the fellows the
slip.

3ut what about Harvey?

 
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
    
   
    
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
   
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
     
   
   
    
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
   
  
   
    
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
    
  
 
  
 
    
   
  
   
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
   
     
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
    
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
    
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
 
  
     
     
 
     

 

1750

GOOD NEWS.

  

 

In fancy he saw him lying dead or dying
within the shelter of the bushes, while
the gang were making a desperate attack
upon the house, and this thought nerved
him to continue the flight before he had
fairly recovered his wind.

The journey was a succession of brief
halts and mad races, for every moment
m'‘ght be precious now, and he took no
heed of fatigue, save. when exhausted
nature literally forced him so to do.

In less than half the time it had cost
him to traverse the same distance when
no one but himself was in danger, he
accomplished the task, and stood on the
platform of the station at which Harvey’s
party stopped the night previous.

The building was closed.

While he was rattling at the door in
the vain hope that there might bea
watchman inside, a resident of the town
passed.

“What’s going on?” he asked in an un-
steady voice which told quite plainlyswhy
he was away from home at such an hour.

“I want to send a very important tele-
gram.”

“Well send—hic—her if you wanter.”

“Where is the operator?”

“At home, I reckon, if he ain’t, that’s
where he oughter be this time in the
morning.”

“Do you know when he will be here?”

“’Bout midnight, if he counts on lookin’
out for the express.”

“Can you tell me what time it is now?”

It was rather a Gifficult matter for the
tipsy party to get at his watch; but he
was in an obliging mood, and after some
trouble succeeded in clutching the time-
piece.

“Come here an’ see for yourself,” he said,
after trying in vain to make out the posi-
tion of the hands. “TI reckon I must have
bought four or five watches by the looks
of these, though I’m blest if I remember
anything about it.”

“You’ve only got one there,” Jet said,
as he gazed over the stranger’s shoulder.
“It lacks only ten minutes of being
twelve o’clock; I sha’n’t have long to
wait.”

“I’d stay with you if I didn’t have to
call upon a sick friend,” the man replied
after some difficulty, and then he stag-
gered on, while Jet paced to and fro as if
only by exercise could he control his im-
patience,

In less than five minutes he was joined
by two men, or at least they came on the
platform; but seemingly took care to
prevent him from seeing their faces,

He could hear them talking in low,
earnest tones; but was so engrossed by
his own thoughts that he made no at-
tempt to distinguish the words.

Finally the station agent, who was also
the telegraph operator, arrived, and as
he unloc batt the door Jet asked eagerly,
and sufficiently loud for the strangers to
hear:

“Can I send a message to Albany?”

“Not now. Come to morrow morning
after eight o’clock.”

“But this is very important and must
go as soon as possible.”

“ll attend to you in the morning.

“Tt will be too late then,” Jet cried, ex-
citedly. “The chief of police must have
the news at once!”

The operator looked at Jet scrutiniz-
ingly, and the two men stepped a few
paces nearer.

“'What’s the matter?” the official asked.

“It is necessary detectives be sent here
at once.”

es Murder, or something of that kind,

”

“ All [ know is that I wassent by aman
who said the telegram must go at the
earliest possible moment.”

“Very well, come in and write it. I’ll
see if the Albany office will answer my
call.”

Jet walked into the waiting-room so
excited that he failed to notice the
strangers, who crowded behind him; but

‘stood where their faces would bein the
shadow.

After a moment’s reflection he wrote
the following:

“TO THE CHIEF OF POLICE,
“Albany, N. Y.

“Send more men at once; they have us foul.
My messenger will wait at the station until
assistance arrives. HARVEY.”

It was a simple matter for the strangers
to read this by looking over Jet’s
shoulder, and as soon as they had done
so they slipped quietly out of the build-
ing where the following conversation
might have been heard:

“That’s the boy Joe and Bob brought
up from New York.”

“T thought so, and now he is working
for Harvey.”

“Who han gone to the house in the
woods to pull the boys, and has got the
worst of it.”

“YT don’t reckon we could prevent the
operator from sending that message?”

; “Not without putting ourselves in the
hole.”

“We can make sure though that the
boy isn’t here to show them the place

“Which forces us to stay here another
day, and according to the looks of things
I don’t think it safe. What made the
fools come after agreeing to lay over in
the city till we showed up?”

“That’s what I can’t say. It’s enough
to know we’ve got to bear a hand, for if
one of the crowd is caught all hands stand
a good chance of being sent up.”

“Shall we nab the boy as soon as the
train passes?”

“No; I’ve got a better plan than that.
We’ll wait tiil the western express ar-
rives, and make him think we’re the
officers who have comein reply to his
telegram.”

“Then we must keep out of sight. Let’s
take a turn around the town where he
won’t be likely to see us.”

The men walked quietly away, and in
the depot Jet was congratulating himself
upon having been able to give the alarm
so quickly.

The operator had been very eager to
learn why officers should be summoned
from the city; but Jet professed entire
ignorance of the matter, repeating again
and again that he had only brought the
message from a stranger a short distance
up the road, and the questioner finally
ceased trying to extract information.

There was no difficulty about getting a
telegram through, and in a few moments
Jet rejoiced at hearing the man say:

“It’s done, and now you ll only have
to wait until the parties arrive.”

“How long before they can come?”

“There’s a morning express which
leaves Albany in an hour; but it doesn’t
stop here. so they’]] have to wait for the
five o’clock train.”

Jet was not troubled
should spend the time.

He was so tired that he could sleep any-
where, and walked across the track to
the waiting shed, where he laid down
on one of the benches, glad of an oppor-
tunity to rest his weary limbs.

While paying for the telegram he
noticed with surprise that Harvey had in-
trusted him with twenty dollars, and he
said to himseJf as his eyes were closing
in sleep:

“I wonder why he gave me so much?
It can’t be possible he thought the mes-
sage would cost all that.”

Then he was unconscious of everything
around him,

The midnight express arrived, stopped,
and with aloud snort from the engine
went on again; but the noise barely suf-
ficed to make Jet aware that something
unusual had happened.

During the next hour he slept peace-
fully, and then the two strangers came
up the track talking in low tones,

By the glare of the station lamp they
saw the sleeping boy.

“What is the use of waiting for the
train, when it may be possible the officers
will come?” é
“The morning express doesn’t stop
ere,”

“What of that? The conductor would
let the officers off if the chief should
ask him as an especial favor.”

“Well, how can we hurry matters?”

“He is asleep, and all we have to do is
to swear the train has just passed. He
probably hasn’t got a watch, and can’t
tell whether one hour or four has passed
since he closed his eyes.”

“But if he should be suspicious, he might
make trouble.”

“Say, you’re getting to be a regular
coward. We've got to take some chances
if we want to prevent Joe and Bob from
being pulled, and it will be rough if you
and I can’t handle a boy like that.”

“Do as you please; of course I’m bound
to stand at your back all the time.”

The first speaker looked around once to
make certain no one was near, and then
stepping quickly into the shed shook Jet
roughly.

as to where he

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
~~ > @
HOW ANIMALS ARE STUFFED.

 

 

Lions, tigers, and similar large animals
are often mounted from the “flat;” in
other words, the practical taxidermist
imitates the natural appearance of the
ainmal with only his skin to work upon.
There is no skeleton—the skin having
been probably sent home from abroad—
and the operator is required to construct
a lion or tiger with only the skin of the
original remaining. To accomplish this
difficult task, the skin is placed on the
floor, and a tracing made on paper of the
necessary proportions of the “ body-board.”
On this body-board are fastened a strong
rod for the neck anda similar one for
the tail. The ribs are imitated in wood,
and laths tacked on to make the frame-
work capable of being filled out to the
necessary shape. The lathsare afterward
covered with straw or plaster, and clay
is finally added. The legs are modeled
with the assistance of plaster, tow, and
clay, the tail properly arranged, the
skull, or, in its absence, the plaster head,
placed in position, and the skin neatly

 

when the officers arrive.”

THE GIPSY PLOTTERS ;

OR

The Owner of No Man’s Land

li ih ae

By CAPT. CASTLETON.

—<-+——

(“THE Gipsy PLOTTERS” was commenced in No. 102
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

——_

CHAPTER XXV.
A NEW COMBINATION.

T\HE conference between Wilson and

t » the gipsy had been overheard by

another
friends.

This was Hugo Raime. Left to him-
self, he had struck out for the point
where the raft was being constructed,
and had arrived in time to hear the
principal part of the conversation.

“Fortune favors me!” muttered Henry
as he swaggered to and fro. “I shall
make a big thing out of this, and the
best of it is, I divide with nobody.”

“I wouldn’t bea pig!” said Hugo, in a
low tone.

“'Who’s there?” cried the other, in alarm.

“Your partner in this little deal!” re-
Heike Hugo, emerging from his hiding-
place.

“You here!’ How dare——

“Go slow, Henry! I’ve heard every-
thing, and, added to what I knew be-
fore, it makes me pretty well posted. It
was mean of you to throw an old friend
out of the hoop-pole deal as you did, but
I’li forgive you, and we’ll go ahead as
partners.”

At that moment a snapping sound, as
of a breaking twig, caused the two to
turn,

Pierce Amick was approaching.

“I’ve seen him!” eried the latter.

“Who?” demanded Henry.

“William Wilson. I saw bim and
another man a piece west of here not five
minutes ago.”

“Nonsense! You don’t know him.”

“JT heard their talk about the land, and
t’other one called him Mr. Wilson, all
the time. And he’s been here, Henry
Magoun! I see it in your face. Come!
You must tote fair, or I’ll give every-
thing away at once!”

As a result of this meeting it was
agreed that the three should share alike
in the proceeds of the deal with Wilson,
and were to act together to the end of
making good money out of it.

“We'll get these four fellows out of the
way,” said Black Henry at length, “and
then arrange a scheme for bringing Mas-
ter Arthur here late this afternoon.”

“I don’t see how you’re going to do it,”
said Pierce.

“Men,” began the gipsy, advancing,
“is she all ready to move?”

“Yes,” returned Dill, with a suspicious
look at the two boys.

“Then start off with her, I’]l follow
on a little later in the smallest boat.”

“I don’t like that arrangement !” grum-
bled Ash.

“Why not? You'll have to cut away
lots of trees, and I can come six times as
fast in the boat.”

“How far do we have to go?” queried
Bowers,

“To Raymond, That’s all of forty
miles; and what with tree-tops and low
water, it’ll bea matter of two or three
days before we get there.”

The men shook their heads and conferred
together in low tones.

It was tolerably apparent that. they be-
lieved their leader had some big scheme
on hand from which they were exeluded.

“We think we’ll wait for you,” said
Dill, a few minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” replied Magoun, with a
look of disappointment.

“'What’s the racket, anyway?”

“He won't bring it unless I’m here
alone,”

“Who?”

“The man from Pittsburg.”

“Bring what?”

“The keg of rum—eight gallons.”
“Hurra!” cried the four men.

“Why won’t he?” asked Bowers.
“He’s afraid of being reported and sent
to prison. Its ticklish business, this
handling liquor.”

“I know that drinking it is,” put in
Agur Ash, with a grin.

“And you'll bring it alongin the boat?”
asked Dill.

“Yes, the minute I get it. I promised
to get you a supply, and meant this for a
little surprise, but you distrusted me——”
“No, we didn’t!” shouted Bowers. “ We
hated to be separated from you, you’re
such good company !”

“That's so,” was the indorsement of

person besides our two

?

 

fastened over all,

“Get her afloat, then, and make the
best time you can. The keg won’t be here
until six o’clock, but I’ hurry right
along with it.”

“You won't bring it empty?” suggested
Diil. “The comfort of life is mighty
tempting.”

“V'll not touch a drop of it until I over-
take you.”

This seemed to satisfy the men, and
with a shout they carried the few re-
maining articles on board, released the
smaller of the two boats, cut loose the
fastenings of the raft, and pushed it out
into the rather sluggish current.

The three conspirators watched it float
slowly away until it was hidden from
view by a projecting point of timber.

Then they walked away to perfect their
plot against the liberty, perhaps the life,
of our boy hero.

ee

CHAPTER XXVI.

NED A PRISONER.

) EN RATCLIFFE and his young
< companion lost no time in reaching
the camp. :

To their surprise it was deserted,
none of the boys being in sight.

The guns were all there, so they had
not gone on a shooting expedition.

The backwoodsman proceeded to dis-
charge one of them a number of times
with intervals to correspond to the signal
agreed upon for calling everybody into
camp

For some time they waited, but no one
put in an appearance,

“I'm afraid they’re playing us false,”
said Ben, moodily.

“Not Jean,” cried our hero. “The
others may, but I’m sure of him. He’ll
soon be here.”

As if to prove the truth of his predic-
tion the gipsy boy at this moment ap-
peared,

“Where have you been?” asked Ned,

“Watching Pierce and Hugo.”

“Did they go away together?”

“No, but they’re together now.”

“Where?”

“At the enemy’s camp, or rather where
it was.”

“How’s that?”

“They've just struck it. Everything is
coming down the river on the raft.”

“The boys, too?”

“Oh, no, They’re behind with Henry.”

“We know what their scheme is.”

“You do?”

Jean Cameo looked intensely surprised.

“Yes. This Wilson has been there, and
Black Henry has agreed to show me to
him this afternoon and then put me out
of the way.”

“For what?” asked Jean innocently.

“That we don’t know, but I seem to be
in his way for-some reason.”

suppose you don’t intend to be
there?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“T’ll tell you what we’ll do,” broke in
Ben, who had been in a deep study.

“What?” asked Ned.

“We'll follow their example.”

“In what?”

“Fold our tent, like the Arab, and as
silently steal away.”

“Good!” cried Ned.

“In the meantime,” said Jean, “they
are steaing away with the raft.”

“If they expect to market those hoop-
poles in Raymond they have reached that
conclusion without consulting your uncle,
Ben Ratcliffe,” said that individual with
a laugh.

“Can we capture it?” asked Ned.

“That's my calculation of what we'll
do. We'll make a big try for it, anyway.”

gel have to follow them in the Erie,
then.”

“Right as a text of Scripture!
and we’ll be off in a jiffy.”

In a trice the movables were transferred
to the boat, the canvas tent following the
other effects.

Then the long poles were brought into
use, and the canal-boat was
slowly along the shallow creek toward
the Mingo River.

The mouth of the little tributary reached,
the boat was brought toa state of rest and
an observation cautiously made,

The sound of voices were first heard,
and amoment later the raft came into
view.

The men had-erected the tent, and one
was engaged in cooking dinner, while
the others managed the ungainly craft.
“*Sposin’ he plays us false,” remarked
Virgil Dill, who was manipulating the
rude tiller at the stern.

“He won't,” returned Ash.

“Tf he does,” snarled Bowers, who was
officiating as cook, ‘twe’ll a good deal
more’n get even by pocketin’ the hull
proceeds of the poles at Rayniond.”

“An’ do you s’pose I’m goin’ to go with-
out licker thtee or four days longer—
more’n at a week—just for that?”
snarled Dill, leaving his post and coming

 

Hurry,

 

the other three,

 

forward.

  

pushed |

 

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NEWS.

     

1751

 

“Smithfield’s only three miles from the
Yriver,” announced Bowers. “The stream
takes a turn there and’goes to one side of
the woods.”

“Good!” cried the others.

“But can we get anything to drink
there?” asked Dill, as he walked back to
the tiller.

Owing tosome unusual noise on he
raft, and the distance that it had floated
past the mouth of the creek, the answer
was inaudible to our friends, but the
cheer which went up convinced them
that it was affirmative.

After waiting half an hour Ben gave
the order to move, and the canal-boat
Was soon descending the river once more.

More than once that afternoon they
sighted the white canvas on the raft, and
were obliged to run under cover to pre-
vent being observed by its crew.

Suddenly, about sundown, there was a
jar, and the boat came to a standstill.

“What’s wrong?” queried Ned, anx-
iously.

“We're aground!”

“But the raft passed here?”

“True, but the raft don’t draw so much
Water as our boat.”

“What’s to be done?”

“There’s only one thing that I can think
of, and that’s to get her afloat again.”

But this proved a far more difficult
task than the worthy backwoodsman had

argained for.

A small tributary had carried a quantity
of mud out into the river, and in this
soft mass the Erie was imbedded.

At length, by the use of levers, which
they secured on the bank, she was backed
off the bar, and sounding made to find
a deeper passage way.

After some time deeper water was
found, the skiff taken on board, and a
second attempt made.

This was also at first unsuccessful,
but after an hour’s hard work they suc-
ceeded in working her over the bar.

It was quite dark now, and they were
Obliged to proceed with the greatest
c2ution.

Not long after getting afloat again they
Saw a light ahead.

This proved to proceed from a fire on
the raft, which was tied up on the left
bank of the stream.

Ben poled the boat up to the bank, and
Went forward to reconnoiter.

He was not long gone, and returning,
announced that the raft was entirely

eserted.

“Now's our time!” said he in conclusion.

The Erie was now floated down and

prought up to the raft, to which it was

Speedily attached.

Then they made haste to carry ashore
all the persona] effects of the crew, in-
cluding the provisions and tent.

“We don’t want to be accused of theft,”
Ben had said. ;

“Will we float them down together?”
asked Ned.

“I think not. I’d rather have you on
ahead, and then, in the event of an at-
tack, they’ll not have so good a chance
O catch you.”

“But they have noright to do it,”
cried Ned.

“And we've each got a gun, and we'll
fight,” added the bellicose Jean.

“Of course we'll resist them, unless——”

“What?” asked our hero impatiently, as
the man hesitated.

“Unless they come armed with a legal
eres of some sort, and officers to ar-

us.”

, Lou don’t expect that?”

I rather think that’s what they’ll do.
They know we would resist them other-
Wise.”

“And we’ll have to give up then?

“Unless wecan get away from them.
We're almost out of the woods now ; they

On‘t extend more than two miles farther,
8nd from here on the river is free from

”

ee structions.”

ropose to have me go on
“head in the drie,” queried our hero,
“ . ; :
That’s it. They can’t reach you with-
Out passing us, and we can signal each

And you

Other by firing the guns.”

This plan was at once adopted.
th e signal having been agreed upon,

€ boat was thrust ahead of the raft,
8nd the two began the descent of the
Yiver,

The latter, being very wide, was often
aught by the branches of the trees, and

‘COnsequently delayed. On the other hand

the oat drifted on unrestrained, and
ence gained a good deal upon the raft.
é half an hour or so, finding himself
—e of sight of his comrades, and having
€ard no signals of danger, he poled the
d up to the left bank of the river,
etermined to wait until their light ap-
ared in view.
} & was seated on the top of the boat,
aleking for the light, when a sound
armed him,
ta grasped his gun and attempted to

But strong hands seized and bore him

 

to the deck, while a cruel grip upon his
throat prevented his crying out.

CHAPTER XXVIILI.
GLOOMY PROSPECTS.

2, 3
vy NABLE to rise or cry aloud, Ned
‘\ qd. Arthur recognized his assailants.

    

He was in the hands
Bowers and Virgil] Dill.

“Put out the light!” cried a- voice, that
of Ash.

“Probably the rest are in the cabin,
suggested the fourth man, as he deposited
a keg upon the deck and extinguished a
candle inasmall lantern which swung
over the stern of the craft.

Two of the others made a dash
hatchway.

“It’s empty!” cried one of them, return-
ing a moment later.

“We'd better get her out in the stream,”
said Dill, after Ned. had been ‘placed in
the hold, where his cries could not be
heard.

“Hold on!” shouted Ash, seizing the
pole in his companion’s hands.

“What’s the matter?”

The other pointed to a light which had
jusé appeared up the river.

“What can it be?” asked the wondering
Dill.

“Perhaps it’s the gipsy with the rum,”

“No such luck. Besides, he would have
stopped at the raft. Let’s run the old
tub forward under the branches there,
and find out what kind of a craft it is.”

There being no dissent to this, it was at
once acted upon.

Ten minutes later the raft drifted by,
carrying Ben and Jean withina few yards
of their imprisoned friend.

“What do you think of that?” asked
Dill, when the man and boy had been
carried on, out of earshot.

“Tt’s one of the greatest pieces of luck
on record,” returned Ash.

“How so? We've lost the raft, which
is worth a pile of money.”

“Have we, now?”

“Haven’t we?”

“Not a bit of it. We'll let them cut
away trees and pry it off bars, and when
they get it pretty near down to Raymond
we'll take it away fromthem. We ought
to drink on that.”

This suggestion could not be acted upon
quickly enough, and ina trice the fiery
liquor, so harmless in appearance, yet so
awful in its effects, was circulating
freely.

The unhappy boy imprisoned below
knew that a carousal was in progress
above. He had seen the keg, and now
heard the irregular steps of the men as
they endeavored to dance.

After a time they began to weary of this
amusement, and devoted their entire
energies to drinking or singing, or rather
howling, in a drunken, muadlin-way.

This drunken debauch,: as had been
stated, was indulged inon the deck, or
top of the old canal-boat, which was
fainty illuminated by the candle that
had been taken from the lantern.

“Let’s be off,” hiccoughed Dill at length.

“In this old tub?” asked Bowers.

“Not much. We’ll use the small boat.”

This was hung at the stern of the Erie,
and was large enough to carry the four
men in safety.

“Allright,” assented Ash.. “Bundle in
Sees what’s left of it, and we’ll be
Oo

“But the kid?” suggested Dill.

“Let him stay where he is.”

“All right. Capital joke. Pay him for
stavin’-in our keg of liquor. It makes
me groan to think of how much good,
pie old comfort went to waste that

ay.”

The party now proceeded to lower the
boat, though not without difficulty, and
having pers within it the small keg,
they fished Ash out of the water, into
which, to him, strange element. he had
plunged, struck up a song, or rather four
different ones, an half-rowed, half-drifted
down the stream.

In his dark place of confinement Ned
Arthur heard the boat as it struck the
water, and realized that he was about to
be abandoned—perhaps to starvation and
death!

Seizing some object—he knew not what
—he began beating upon the side of the
boat in the hope of attracting the atten-
tion of the wretched men, whom drink
had reduced to a grade below the. brutes.

His efforts were unavailing; and, speed-
ily realizing this, he desisted.

In the meantime the candle had burned
down to within less than an inch of the

itch-pine flooring, between two of the

oards of which it had been thrust.

For ten minutes Ned Arthur lay still,
exhausted with his work and discouraged
at his prospects.

The latter were far gloomier than he
imagined.

The flame of the candle had ‘reached
the deck’s level now, and a long pine

”

for the

. | -
of Jim | Fry

| Yet he did not despair.

jing him after a time, and receiving no
| answer to their signals, would be certain

 

splinter, rich in resinous matter, had

been ignited.

_

CHAPTER XXVIII.
“OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN.”

aD
aS

TD OY though he was, Ned Arthur was
B something of a philosopher. The

future—so much of it as he could
-alculate upon from his limited en-
vironment—was gloomy in the extreme.

>

He reasoned that Ben and Jean, miss-

to. make search for him. |

He had no doubt but what the raft had |
long since passed on down the stream,
and determined that the canal-boat had
been run under cover of some kind.

This would operate against him and
lessen the chances of his being found. by
his friends; but still he knew them both
to be sharp-eyed and clear-headed, and
so kept up his courage.

Then there was Black Henry and his
confederates. They would follow on,
overtake the four earousers, learn where
ee had been left, and return and secure
1lm.

This second prospect was not at all to
the liking of our hero, but it was far
preferable to a slow and painful death.

Taken forall in all, he had no doubt
but what he would be released some time
the next day.

But while the boy had been patiently
reasoning his way to this conclusion, the
—to him—unknown factor in his destiny
had not been idle.

Once, indeed, the flame upon the deck
had almost expired, but at that moment
the wind freshened and fanned it back
into life and activity.

Suddenly it occurred to Ned to explore
the hold.

To his first view it seemed entirely
empty, except for a lot of cobble-stones
on the bottom, placed there to ballast
the boat, he had no dourt.

He looked about him eagerly in the hope
of finding an ax or some other instru-
ment with which to cut his way out of
his prison.

But nothing of the’ kind presented
itself to his view.

At last he saw something at the farther
end of the hold, which shone as with a
metallic luster.

He eagerlly approached it, igniting a
fresh match as he walked.

He bent over it and held down the
flaming bit of wood.

Then he started back in consternation.

He saw a large tin canister with one
word painted upon it in black letters:

“GUNPOWDER!”

As ‘he turned, a portion of the match
crumbled and fell.

A sudden light dazzled our hero’s eyes,
and he believed that his time had come.

This subsided, a mass of stifling smoke
rolled upward, and all was over.

Ned Arthur realized that he had hada
narrow escape.

A little of the deadly powder, carelessly
scattered on the top of the canister, had
exploded.

As our hero retreated precipitately, he
struck his foot against an obstruction
and fell forward.

Slightly stunned by the concussion, he
lay still for a moment.

Suddenly he felt asharp pain in his
outstretched hand, and instantly divined
its cause.

Upon his hand was a small, though
bright and glowng coal of fire.

An upward glance revealed the entire,
awful truth.

The Erie was on fire!

While he looked, dumfounded and al-
most deprived of his reason, a piece of
the bazing flooring fell, and a mass of
stifling smoke rolled in upon him.

For only a moment Ned Arthur stood
irresolute. Then his native grit asserted
itself, and he resolved to make a fight for
his life.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—____+- oe ___

GERMAN HORSESHOES.

In Germany the smith when finishing
the shoe, punches a hole in the two ends,
and when the shoe is cold he taps ina
serew thread and screws into the shoe,
when‘on the horse’s foot, a sharp-pointed
stud of an inch in length; and with shoes
thus fitted horses can travel securely over
the worst possible road, and have never
been known to slip; and draught horses
are shod in the same way. When the
horse comes to stable the groom unscrews
the pointed stud and screws in a_ button,
so that no damage can happen to the
horse, and the screw holes are prevented
from filling. When the horse is going
out the groom simply takes out the but-

| ibraries.

 

ton and screws in the pointed stud.

 

EXCHANGE DEPARTMENT.

(IMPORTANT.—This column is f7geto all our readers.
We will not bé responsible for transactions brought
about through notices in this column. All offers must
be strictly exchange offers. We’ will not insert any
“for sale” advertisements, nor exchanges of fire-arms,
explosives, dangerous,or worthless articles. 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.”}

 

ial

FOREIGN COINS.—James §S. Williams, care of
Alex. Sprunt & Sons, Wilmington, N. C., has 50
foreign coins and one American zither to exchange
for a snap-shot camerain good condition, Indian
relics, or best offer. All letters answered.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Cyrus B. Chase, 620 E. Monroe
street, Little Falls, N. Y., has boys’ papers to ex.
change for best offer.

CIGARETTE PICTU RES.—John Craig, 74 Ham-
mond street, Boston, Mass., has cigarette pistures,
albums and stamps to exchange for a motor or
electrical goods. All letters answered.

READING MATTER.—J. E. Mustard, 10 Julia
street, Sar Francisco, Cal., will exchange reading
matter for best offer or offers; also boys’ papers for
a pair of opera glasses,

BOYS’ PAPERS.—H. T. Livingstone, 358 40th
street, Chicago, Ill., has boys’ papers to exchange
for same.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Fred. Lange, Jr., 501 Ever.
green ave., Brooklyn, N. Y.. has boys’ papers to ex-
change for books on electricity, a polliopticon or
U.S, and foreign stamps.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Arthur W. Moser, Box 108,
Danvers, Mass., has boys’ papers, reading matter,
300 hundred tobacco tags, no two alike, and 2 bound
books to exchange for best offer of machinists’
tools in good condition.

PHOTOS--Chas. M. Mitchell, N. McKene street,
Butler, Pa., Las Sweet Lavendar and Honest Long
Cut photos to exchange for an autoharp.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Wm. Piez, 116 East 93d street,
New York City, has boys’ papers, 6 libraries, cig-
arette pictures and slips,a United States atlas,
and one album of American editors to exchange for
best offer. °

BICYCLE.—Joseph Nelson Nash, 132 9th st.,
Brooklyn, N. Y., has a 48-inch bicyle, rubber tires,
to exchange for a bango or guitar,

STAMPS.—W. A. Henkel, 4106 N. Grand avenue,
St. Louis, Mo., has 10 different foreign stamps to
exchange for every 25 postage due stamps, and 20
different foreign stamps to exchange for every 10
special delivery stamps sent him.

BOOKS, E''C.—Bert. McIntire, Rockport, Knox
County, Maine, has books, libraries, and boys’ pa-
pers to exchange fora miniature steam engine or
All letters answered.

STAMPS.—John F. Minaldi, Jr., 340 Hancock st.,
Brovuklyn, N. Y., has 3,000 assorted foreign stamps,
libraries and reading matter to exchange for best
offer. All letters auswered

STAMPS. -P. H. Jaquith, 270 Main street, Nor-
wich, Conn., will give foreign stamps for a Scott’s
international postage stamp album in good condi-
tion. C

CIGARETTE CARDS.—Max C. Ploetz, 1,331
Pojut Breeze ave., Philadelphia, Pa., has 500 cigar.
ette cards, 300 slips, 8 albums, 1,500 tin tags, 6 tricks,
a 6-power magnifying glass, and many other things
to exchange lor type, cuts, borders, or best offer.

BICYCLE.—Thomas Phelan, 255 East 86th street,
New York City, has a 46-inch ball-bearing Colum-
bia bicycle to exchange for best offer.

NOVELS.—Geo. Marrion, 8 Pearl street, Barre,
Vermont, las 5 novels, 50 stamps, and boys’ papers
to exchange for a watch or best offer, ‘

MAGIC LANTERN.—Edward R. Reeves, 166
West Main street, Columbus, Ohio, has a magic
lantern with 28 slides and 75 boys’ papers to ex-
change for aself-inking printing press and type.

NOV ELS.—C. J. Reardon, 420 North !2th street,
Philadelphia, Pa., has novels to exchange for all
stamps not in collection.

PRINTING PRESS. — Sig. Wing, Coldwater,
Mich., has a printing press and outfit, a Little Giant
bicycle and violin and case to exchange for a 2 or 3-
horse power engine in running order. All letters
answered,

STAMPS.—C. Sterling, 2,930 Harper street, St.
Louis, Mo., has foreign stamps to exchange for
purvle or brown-red stamps of 1890 or last issue.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Charles Poppele, 119 Waverly
place, New York City, has boys’ papers to exchange
Tor a telescope.

WEEKLY PAPERS.—C, R. Ford, 39 West Dia.
mond street, Allegheny, Pa., has 107 weekly papers
in order to exchange for a guitar, camera. printing
press or best offer. All communications answered.

BOOKS AND PAPERS.—James N. Gale, Box
19, Canton, N. Y., has books and papers to exhange
for an Elgin or ‘’renton watch. Send stamp for
reply.

STAMPS.—Alfred Reeves, 9 Gold street, New
York City, has foreign stamps, 3 novels, 3 bound
books, 1 volume of a boy’s paper, and a pair of ice-
skates to exchange for best offer.

SKATES.—Fred. H. Holford, 123 Main street,
Minneapolis, Minn., has a pair of skates and a par-
lor game of base-ball to exchange fora good print-
ing press and outfit. All letters answered.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Lindley Eicks, Guttenberg,
N.J., has boys’ papers and libraries to exchange
fo. ths best offer in foreign stamps. All letters
answered.

CIGARETTE CARDS.—Claude Still, 650 Holly
avenue, St. Paul, Minn., has 140 cigarette cards, 75
stamps, 2 cigarette albums, and anovel to exchange
for boys’ papers or best offer.

PRINTING PRESSES.—Frank Pol, 7 Fifth ave.,
New York City, has 2 printing presses to exchange
for a set of boxing gloves.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—H. T. Lyman, Watertown, N,
Y., has boys’ papers to exchange for a pair of 1-lb.
Indian clubs and a pair of 1-lb. dumb-bells,

BOOKS, ETC.—A. L. Ravely, Edgeley, N. D.,
has books, libraries, curious stones, etc., to ex-
change for reading matter or best offer.

RING, ETC.—Chas. Norton, 70 Broadway, New
York City, has a solid gold chased ring, 31-4x4 1.4
camera and outfit, bound books and a paper book to
exchange for a printing press, type-writer or best
offer.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Wade Ison, Griffin, Ga., has
boys’ papers and novels to exchange for “Outof the
Hurly Burly” or best offer.

INDIAN CLUBS.—Geo. W. Fuhr, Jr., 240 Sonth
Liberty avenue, Alliance, Ohio, has a pair of Indian
clubs, tobacco tags, novels, books, etc., base-ball
guide, trick cards, and cigarette pictures Ww ex-
change for an electric battery or best offer.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Morris D. Wood, 191 W. 134th
street, New York City, has boys’ papers, some cig-
arette albums, and books by Optic and others to
exchange for boys’ papers or best offer.

4

     
 
  
 
  
 
 
    
  
    
 
  
    
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
  
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
    
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
   
 
    
 
  
 
  
     
 
  
 
  
  
  
     
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
      
    
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
      
   
 
   
 
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
       
 

GCrooDp

NEWS.

Sse eaeeellccestintiadllicnsaneealllldtianitimmenentementsmeeneeenl

 

   
   

oEST. STORES Pho bane GUARTOR®
ISSUED WEEKLY.

NEW YORK, JUNE 11, 1892.

  

 

Pe

 

 

 

Terms to Mail Subscribers:
(POSTAGE FREE.)

3months - - - - - 65c.| Lcopy, twoyears - $4.00

4months - - - - - 8c.| The Vew York Weekly and

6 months - - = -$1.25| Goop NEws, both for one

One Year - © = - - 250; year - - + - = = $450
- - 4.00

2 copies, one year

How to SEND MONEY.—We will be responsible for
the receipt of money sent to us only when remittance
is made by Post-Office Money Order, Bank Check or
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particularly recommend our subscribers to the Ameri-
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at any of their offices, and guarantee the delivery of
any amount not over $5.00 for the low sum of five
cents. We cannot be responsible for money lost in
transit unless sent in one of the above ways.

‘To Crus Ratsers.—We are at all times aap ana
willing to lend you all possible aid, and wiil send, free,
as many saiple copies as yon think you can ju-
dicionsly use, together with other advertising matter

RENEWALS.—The number indicated-on your sub-
scription label denotes when your subscription ex-
vires. Note this carefully, and renew promptly, un-
Thee you desire us to discontinue sending you the
paper, 1n which case notify us.

Special inducements made for large clubs.

All letters shonld be addressed to

STREET & S\MITH'’S GOOD NEWS,
P.O. Box 2734, 29 & 31 RoseStreet, N.Y.

Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be
obtained from your Newsdealers.
have them please send direct to this office and we
will supply them by mail on receipt of price.

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

Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line,

Contents of this Number.

SERIAL STORIES.

“Stealing a Steamer,” by Walter Morris.

‘*The Gold Thieves,” by Capt. L. C. Carle-
ton.

‘Messenger No. 48; or The Boy Detective,”
by James Otis.

“The Gipsy Plotters,” by Capt. Castleton.

‘Uncle Sam’s Jack Tars,” by Enrique H.
Lewis.

SHORT STORIES.

“A Terrible Experience.”

“A Desperate Combat,” by Roger Star-
buck.

“The Messenger’s Pluck,” by Chester F.
Baird.

‘Quantrell’s Raid,” by T. 0.

‘Phe Counterfeiter’s Story,” by Uncle Ned.

‘“Scudder’s Dog Case,” by Max Adeler.

‘‘Deerskin Bill’s Story,” by T. R. Jenness.

‘A Voyage on the Snow,” by Will Lisenbee.

‘The Guide’s Story.”
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.”

‘Short Stops.”

Miscellaneous Jtems, ete.

 

 

~ a we

CLEAR THE TRACK!
LOOK OUT FOR No. I12!

This is not the number of a locomotive,
but the issue of Goop News week after next,
in ‘which we will begin a new story, en-
titled

YANKEE DICK’S RISK;

OR,
Engineering the African Central.
By RANDOLPH HILL,

The title alone will give an idea of the
plot of the story, but we will say to readers
who delight in adventure that they will find
in this story, life, pluck, and adventure of a
thrilling nature in a country where men are
obliged to fight every inch of their way,
especially when putting through a railroad.

+ oe

NEXT WEEK number one hundred

and eleven will contain the opening chap-

ters of a live school story, entitled

THE RIVAL CAMPS.
By William P. Chipman.

Boys who are fond of outdoor sports will
find this a very interesting story.

 

If they do not | and

cries of “Quantrell,”

 

QUANTRELL'S RAID.

BY T,. O,

In Two Parts.—Part I,

AHE narrative must commence with
>? the attack itself, as the blow fell
like a thunderbolt ina clear sky,
without the least anticipation or
warning. Tears had been previously en
tertained, but it was not considered pos-
sible that a hostile force could pierce
the lines of General Ewing, avoid his
scouts, and penetrate fifty miles into a
populous region, and attack the third
town in the State, without notice of the
raid being given in season to prepare for
defense. Hence, after attending a public
meeting on Thursday, the 20th of August,
1863, the citizens had retired to rest, un-
disturbed by presentiments or fears of

    
 

| the impending catastrophe.

{arly on Friday, the morning after my
arrival, I was awakened by arapid and

continuous discharge of fire-arms in the
Street.

At first I failed entirely to realize the
nature of this occurrence, and it was not
till the sound of the shots, intermingled
with shouts and yells, and the cry of

|“ Hurrah for Quantrell!” swept through

the air, that the drowsiness left my eyes,
1 became aware that the guerillas
were upon us,

I sprang from my bed on
and approached a
The were tilled with

window. streets

 

| My

 

|} render,
hearing the |

threw up his arms and apparently im-
plored quarter, but the only response
inade consisted of curses and shots, re-
peated again and again; under these he
sank tothe ground, and probably died
on the spot.

My own course was soon determined
on, It was apparent that no resistance
was being made to the attack, and I had
no weapon whatever in my possession.
To attempt to escape into the street

| would clearly be madness; the nearest ap-

proach to safety was to watch and wait.
pocket book and watch I placed in
my traveling-bag, and concealed the lat-
ter in my washstand, hoping that good
fortune might enable me tocarry it away,
but satisfied that all valuables about the
person must inevitably be lost,

This done, I prepared for any movement
that might seem safest. ‘Till I became
satisfied that no effort was to be made
for the defense of the house, I chose to
remain in my room,

This last hope was soon dissipated by
the voices of the guerillas in the halls.
They were in possession of the building,
and making an examination of the rooms.
Twice the robbers passed my door, and
dealt upon it heavy blows, intending to
break it in; but hoping that they would
speedily abandon the building and fly, I
made no movement to admit them.

The third time the door yielded, and I
found myself face to face with a couple
of the ruffians, one of whom presented
his revolver, and demanded my sur-

This I unhesitatingly made, and
that I was not a citizen of Law-
but simply there for a day, and

stated
rence,

‘hoped to be allowed to depart unmolested.

* Hn

+ 80> a

 

whackers. No absolute violence, how-
ever, so far as lam aware, was ofiered
in the hotel excepting to a half-witted
man, Joseph Eldridge, brother of the
owner, who was brutally shot after his

| mental condition was made known to his

murderers.

Presently a bushwhacker came up the
stairs, paused upon the landing, and
looked us over. It was Quantrell, the
terror of the border, and a former citizen
of the town. To some old acquaintances
he spoke civilly enough, and with two or
three of them shook hands, assuring us
that we were entirely safe, and should
receive complete protection from per-
sonal violence.

He desired to know whether Governor
Carney was in the city, and finally left
us, taking with him one of our party, to
quiet sone of his men whom he was
about to send in search of “Jim Lane.”

Quantrell was anative of Ohio. He
is said to have been, or pretended to be,
a Free Statesman; but after removing
to the border country, became noted asa
thief, and finally emigrated to Missouri,
to escape the consequences of numerous
indictments found against him in the
different counties in which he had plied
his lawless vocation.

When the war broke out, his restless
spirit and unscrupulous disposition for-
bade his remaining quiet, and as his
reputation in Kansas made it impossible
for him safely to join the United States
service, whereby his propensities to steal
would be limited, he at once, in the
true mercenary style, took service with

 

the Confederates, only preferring to
operate independently rather than subject
himself to the control of the
Confederate oragnization.

The departure of Quantrell
was succeeded by a_ brief
period of suspense. He had
given us reason to believe
that he would not destroy
the hotel, and we cherished
the hope that a short time
would witness the departure
of the outlaws without the
perpetration of other serious
damage. The interval of un-
tans tl however, was em-
ployed by most in making
necessary preparations

ossible departure.
1ad succeeded in secreting
money or valuables under
thecarpets or in other places
not likely to be examined;
and such now transferred
them to their persons, or
committed them to safer cus-
tody of female friends.

We were not long left in
doubt, however, as to the in-
tention of our captors. Quan-
trell soon reappéared, and it
became evident that he had
resolved to destroy the town.
He re-assured us of personal
protection, and directed us
to leave the house and pro-
ceed under guard to some
safe suburb. In contempla-
tion of this, I had secured
my boots. and placed my
traveling-bag in a convenient
spot, determined to make an
effort to save it. Believing
that no further personal ex-

for
Some

 

 

 

‘*HERE, STEP OUT HERE, YOU.”

horsemen, dressed in the wildest fashion
of the border, and armed to the teeth
with carbines and reylovers, They were
riding to and fro, in all directions, yell-
ing and whooping like so many demons,
and apparently shooting down every man
who appeared in sight.

At the moment whenI went to the win.
dow, one of these men, who seemed ap-
parently to be scrutinizing the hotel, evi-
dently espied me, for I heard him shout,
“There’s aman! Shoot him-—shoot him !”
[ gave him no time for the exceution of
his kind purpose; but that moment fur-
nished me with a foretaste of the dread-
ful fate in store for the devoted town.

At first I thought it a mere dash of a
party of horse-thieves, and waited awhile,
expecting to hear the sound recede, and
see the raiders disappear. I could not
suppose the citizens so utterly unprepared
for defense as to make the destruction of
the town atall possible. After a few
moments had passed without signs of a
retreat, I listened for sounds of resistance,
but was rewarded only by the warning
of the hotel gong, which was now rung
loudly through all the halls of the build-
ing. "

T padesaded then to dress, stealing oc-
casional glances into the street. These
showed me men flying in terror, and
pleading for ower bat in every instance
unhesitatingly shot down. One man
rushed out upon the side-walk, on the
east side of the street, apparently de-
signing to cross, but a trooper riding
past, wheeled his horse, and discharged
his revolver full at his chest, The man

 

My name and residence were demanded,
as also whether I was not an officer of
the government. In regard to my money
I made an answer previously designed, |
and which I was sure would possess |
much more plausibility than it did truth.
I was sincerely assured of protection in
case of speaking the truth, but instant
death as a penalty for its infraction.

One other instance of danger occurred,
where acitizen standing by, with the
intention of doing me a service, vouched
for my statement by saying that he knew
me, and that I was a “railroad man.”

“A railroad man!” exclaimed my cap-
tor, inatone of menace; “that’s worse
than being an officer.”

I ventured to differ from the flattering
conclusion, and after a moment's hesita-
tion on his part, was ordered to take my
place with the prisoners in the main hall,
and to await orders.

| coat which

 

On the broad landing of the stairs lead-
ing to the lower hall stood a guard,
whose business was, it seems, to prevent
any of our party from going down. This |
man had not a bad countenance, and |
civilly answered such questions as the
bolder of our company ventured to make.
He informed us that Quantrell himself
was in command of the expedition.

The search of the house was soon over,
and one by one all the inmates who had
lingered in their rooms were brought out

and added to our company. We could |
hear a process of investigation and |
plunder going on, intermingled with

which are always

oaths and. threats,
discourse of bush

freely used in the

amination would occur, how-
ever, and knowing that mv
bag might be taken from me.
1 took out my money and watch and placed
them in the pockets of a linen traveling-
wore over my other. Thus
prepared, I joined the melancholy proces-
sion which filed down the stairs and into
the street, and for the last time departed
from the stately and historic Eldridge
House.

We descended the stone steps of the
hotel, and crossed Massachusetts street
diagonally into Winthrop toward the
east. The shooting had pretty much
ceased, for the reason that al} straggling
citizens were already killed or had fled:
and the bushwhackers were now intent
on plunder, setting fire to each building
successively as soon as it had been rifled
of its contents.

As our party moved along Winthrop
street, shouting desperadoes crowded
upon us, filling the air with curses and
threats. When we arrived about opposite
the office of the State Journal one of

| them rode up on the right to the head of
|} our column, and ordered out of the ranks

a young man walking just in front of
me, who carried in his hand a traveling
bag, and was evidently a stranger,
“Here, step out here, you!” And when
the young man obeyed, “You area red-
leg |” and two successive shots from his
revolver demonstrated the sincerity of his
bloodthirsty design. A burst of horror
and remonstrance rose from our whole
party, and several of us rushed toward
the infuriated wretch, beseeching him
not to murder in cold blood an inoffensive

 

(Continued on page 1758.)

“Tie G

 

G5
The
the yo
foot of
Savage
Suspie
to leay
Seek ty
anee,

Tods |
Uexp,
arouse
hey Vv
to a le
been s
Smal] |
At {
With ,
fully
OZen §
flerce],
iP b
'S_bre
But
happer
Mitted

& bu;
pursue

eb
boldly
again,

le s
Warric
Sess j
 

how-
ofiered
witted
of the
ter his
to his

up the
, and
1, the
sitizen
tances
two or
ing us
should

per-

vernor
y left
rty, to
e

to be,
loving
1 asa
ssouri,
neous
n the
plied

estless
mn for-
as his
»ssible
States
» steal
n the
» with
ig to
ubject
of the
on.
untrell
brief
le had
elieve
estroy
rished
time
arture
ut the
erious
of un-
is em-
aking
is for
Some
reting
under
places
ined;
ferred
ps, or
er Cus-

left in
he in-
Quan-
and it
1e had
town,
rsonal
ted us
d pro-
some
m pla-
ecured
| omy
enient
uke an
ieving
lal ex-
, how-
at mv
m me,
placed
eling-
Thus
roces-
d into
parted
lridge

of the
street
d the
much
rgling
fled;
pire
ilding
rifled

ithrop
»wded
s and
posite
ne of
ead of
ranks
ont of
eling

when
, red-
n his
of his
horror
whole
oward
+ him
pensive

GOOD NEWS.

[THIS STORY WILL NOT BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK-FORM.

THE GOLD THIEVES.

 

A STORY OF TH

E BLACK HILLS.

 

By CAPT. L. C. CARLETON.

“THE GOLD THIEVES” was commenced in No. 107.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CAPTURE AND ESCAPE.
5
ZAEST we should lose sight alto-
ile
¢/ gether of our young hero, Raphael

   

Armitage, let us return to him
>~ ° without further delay.
Che reader will remember that after

the youth and Minette had reached the
foot of the slope, having escaped from the

Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents,}

} - , ; |
| spared, and.straightway began to think |

Minette, wondering whether she

selves loose, broke down the valley with

a crash, at full speed.

As soon as the opportunity offered,
Raphael crept back to where he supposed
he had left Minette, but to his horror he
found no trace of her.

In her place he stumbled over the body
of a warrior, lying on his face, and
bathed in blood. This discovery revealed

ito him the danger in which Minette had

Savages at the Raven’s Nest, they heard |

Suspicious sounds which induced Raphael
to leaye Minette alone while he should
Seek to ascertain the cause of the disturb-
ance,
Let us follow him in this quest.
Raphael crept slowly along
rough the bushes which covered
‘hat portion of the valley, mak- ,
Ng as little noise as possible.
laving traveled about ten
Tods the hunter came very
expectedly upon the horses
10se stampings had |
aroused his suspicions.
They were hitched in arow,
© a long lariat, which had
€en stretched between two] |
Small oak trees. 1KY
At first our hero started
With apprehension, for he,
“uly expected to have a
0Z4en Sioux warriors pounce
€rcely upon him, and per- ;
{ps bury their hatchets in }
‘8 brain.
h ut nothing of the kind
&ppened, and he was per-
Mitted to dodge back into
€ bushes unseen and un-
Pursued. Crouching under (7
Ree branches he looked
Oldly toward the horses

  

Sain,
a le sees no sentries, no
\ atriors, nor anything pos-
basing. life except the
hoses: Ah!athought darts
gj ough his brain. The
aloux who crept up the
be to attack the Raven’s
arse are the owners of the
timals, They have tied
eae pre to be ready aor
S@ whe 17 «gS cl
Send. 1en they should de
mY thunder!” muttered
Ty phael with a_ chuckle,
reat is luck. The Sioux
ih nt need the animals for
me time, They’ll have to
through fighting the
*8 and the bears in the
or th before they will look
ett he beasts. Hum! Min-
t i I can take our pick,
ravel, I'll just take a
better look at the stock.”
or ith that Raphael _ slipped
the ard, pa sing stealthily along
Ponj a8so near the heads of the
leg

bewddenly he halted as if he had
“en shot.

Snake

ite Sioux warriors passed along

Tear of the animals and disap-

€d in the bushes.

4m afraid I’m ina ree said the

iq 7° himself. “Duse take it! why

Sking vp 2Ve Minette at all? Those red-
oe have slipped into the bushes and

aly fone directly toward her! What
R [ do now 3”

The Phael determined

Dear

] ad

‘

h
8}

upon a bold plan. |

  
 

   
  

Sai |

they redskins must be called back, else |

Uno
thee the maiden.
8% Va oth warn Minette and attract
hette’s, to himself. But his plan w
tel); ' than this, for Raphael was an in-
“ ‘Sent youth.

Stampede the horses,” said he.
at will seriously damage the Sioux,
Will save Minette without doubt, for

act seals will leave her to pursue the
“asts »

the

“>,

Would be almost certain to stumble
He might cry out, and |

|

was |

been placed, and he trembled with appre-
hension,

  
         
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  

|

beautiful
too had
been captured by the Sioux, or if not,
what other fate had befallen her,

Our hero felt more than an
interest in the maiden. He thought he
had never beheld a more charming
creature in his life. Besides, the won-
derful events of the past few hours, in
which her fortunes and his own had been
so closely linked together, had deeply im-
pressed-him. Add to these the fact that
she was now a helpless orphan, and

of his. late the

companion,

ordinary

either captured or being hunted to death |

by the redskins, and it is not to be won-
dered that Raphael Armitage could think
of little else than the lovely maiden of
the Raven’s Nest.

The hours were tedious. The slumber-
ing Sioux grunted and snored. The
sentinel winked and blinked. Some

horses. hitched near by, pawed the earth

uneasily and occasionally neighed, as_ if
they felt the loss of their fellows, which

| were still roaming at large in the valley.

While
wondered whether sturdy
and his chums
for him, and was
what had become
Wallace Gemmill,
and his captors
selves from slumber.

taphael thought of Minette, and
Sam

to know
comrade

curious
of his

 

}

 
 

oo

 

Wy),

HS¥o%

HIS HORSE ABOUT, AND URGED IT ALONG THE TRACK HE HAD JUST COME.

But he had no time to think upon the
matter, for several dusky forms, rising
up as it were out of the earth itself, fell
upon the youth and bore him to the
ground,

Raphael involuntarily made a desperate
effort to rise, which action was a very
foolish one on the part of the youth, for
it exasperated his captors, one of whom
gave him such a tremendous blow on the
head with a club as to knock him sense-
less.

When our hero returned to consciousness

| he found himself reclining on the ground

As .
Upoy he spoke, the roar of a rifle burst |

thes ear, bringing his heart into his
7} 21n an instant.

Mickie he intended to do must be done
the ys So, bounding forward, he cut
the pega _ with his knife, loosening

Tses in a twinkling.

animals, already a little excited
noise of the report, and rendered
by the presence of a stranger, be-

Moy

le
the
Sy

by
YM
Ran

| the adjacent darkness, soas to enable him |
i to

at the foot of a bluff. A small fire dis-
pensed some warmth and served to dispel

perceive that three warriors
sleeping near by, while a grim,

fellow, with his back to the bluff, kept
watch over the camp,

Raphael felt the cords about his-wrists,
and experienced a soreness on the back
of his head where the redskin had hit
him with the war-club. He was thank-

© prance about, and, finding them-|ful, however, that his life had been

 

were | t h e

i
sullen |

The Sioux immediately made prepara-
tions for departure, without partaking
of any food. They said but little, and

| the

Trimble |
would make any search |

the day broke, |
roused them- |

 

1753

After riding in a slow and tedious man-
ner for some two hours, the party came

 

to acreek whose banks were) fiat and
sandy.

The redskins, still leading, plunged
their ponies into the stream and began
to ford it. The current was sluggish,
and the water touched the bodies of the
beasts. Raphael’s animal halted at the

brink to quench its thirst.

When the leading warrior had reached
the middle of the stream, Raphael noticed
that the redskin’s pony began to rear and
snort as if greatly terrified at something.

 

ly
The savage himself grunted and urged
beast forward, but in vain, for it
either would not or could not budge.

The pony was gradually sinking!

The second warrior, having observed
the predicament in which his comrade
was placed, hastened to his assistance,
when the same thing occurred to him
likewise; that his horse also grew
frantic and began to sink.

is,

The two Sioux now made
forts to extricate their
mysterious toils; but without success.

The continued to sink and,
thoroughly terrified, began to fill the air
with piercing neighs.

Finding that the ponies must be aban-
doned, the redskins slipped from their

vigorous ef-
from the

beasts

ponies

| beasts and. were about to make for the

   
  
   
 
    
  
     
 

        
 

i - Zor

7

Z* §Z Y TY
Bop diye

WHILE THE SAVAGES GRADUALLY SANK INTO THE DEPTHS, OUR HERO MANAGED TO TURN beast

that little, expressed in their barbarous |

language, was like Greek to our hero.

Raphael was placed upon a wiry black
pony, his rifle and equipments being
strapped on behind him. Two of the
Sioux mounted their animals and accom-
panied him, the other warriors riding
away furiously up the valley. Raphael’s
pony was well trained and implicity fol-
lowed the othes.

Our hero kept a sharp lookout as they
moved along the valley, in
ing some spot that he could
but there
Raven’s Nest.
from which

recognize;

Everything was new

and strange, he concluded

| that they were leaving the vicinity of the

|dead giant’s abode.
| this,

| doubtless

He did not relish
because it seemed to take
farther away from Minette, who was
somewhere in the neighbor-
hood. And he was afraid, too, lest he
should

rescued by his companions,

hopes of see- |

was nothing that resembled |

bank, when they found
themselves unable to do so.

The same invisible toils
caught their legs and held

them fast. They plunged
about, seized upon each
other, and made the water
foam with their frantic

endeavors to escape.

What did itmean? What

mysterious power was at
work dragging men and

beasts to their death?
There was quicksand
ij the stream!
1 Raphael _ immediately
recognized the situation,
but he had no idea of assist-
ing the savages. On the
contrary, he saw in the
affair an opportunity to es-
cape. So, while they grad-
ually sank into the depths,
‘our hero managed to turn
his horse about, and, by
digging his heels into its
flanks, urged it along the
track he had just come.
Halting for nothing,
taphael kept the pony going
as fast as he could for an
hour, when the beast, some-
what fatigued, became

in

baulky and, refusing to
yield any longer to the
of the hunter’s

yersuasion
eth: wandered hither and
thither to nibble the succu-
lent grass.

Raphael was puzzled to
know what to do. His
hands were strapped to-
gether behind his back; his
rifle and equipments were
tied to the saddle. If he
could get the use of his
| hands he would feel com-
paratively secure, but he
was at a loss how to ac-
complish this, for the hard
buckskin throngs cut into
the flesh whenever he made
an attempt to loosen them.

Time wore on. Noon came
and went.

Still the pony wandered
about satisfying its hunger.
Young Armitage began to des-
pair. —

About sundown the pony neigh-
ed and started off at a brisk trot.
What did it mean? Had the
recognized the proximity of

other animals? If so, were their

_ masters, the bloody Sioux, near by?
Our hero shuddered at the thought, and
began to blame himself for not having
abandoned the pony long before.

Suddenly the mystery was explained.
The pony had snuffed water, and had
hastened forward to a bubbling spring
to quench its thirst.

While the pony was drinking, a thought
came into the mind of the young hunter,
which filled him with hope. Heslid from
the horse with acry of joy, and lying
upon his back, half submierged himself
in the water.

Here he laid very quietly for several
minutes, twisting his wrists and moving
them about in the water.

Gradually the water softened the hard

 
   
 

ZA

thengs of buckskin and made them
pliable. It was now easier to stretch
them, and presently Raphael scrambled

lout of the spring,with his hands free.

now lose the last chance of being |

him |

“Now I am all right,” he cried joyfully.
“JT will catch the pony, and get my
rifle.” 3

This task was an easy one, and when
the young hunter had loaded and capped

| his piece he felt like a new man.

 
  

   
  
 
 
 
  
  
    
  
 
 
  
 
   
   
 
  
 
    
 
   
   
  
   
 
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
    
 
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
    
   
  
   
   

   

~
.

ROME RIOR Lie yO ROUE PTR

  

 
 
 
 

=

PRESET RS

 

 
 

 

 

1754

GooDp

   

NEWS.

 

 

 

There was a lariat and a little bag of
jerked meat fastened to the pommel of
the saddle. The lad took the former and
hitched the pony to asmall tree near by.
Then hesat down and ate some o7 the
dried flesh, and felt greatly refreshed.

It was now nearly dusk. Soheselected
a sheltered spot in the bushes, and being
nearly overcome with fatigue and in need
of rest, he curled himself up comfortably
and went to sleep, his last thoughts be-
ing of the charming Minette with a
ete for her safety.

The next morning just at daybreak the
lad awoke. A _ suspicious noise had
aroused him. He was sure some person
was trying to steal hispony. So Raphael
picked up his rifle, looked at the cap,
and, satisfied that his weapon was in
readiness, crawled through the bushes
which hid the animal from his sight.

The noise had ceased, and all was quiet.
Presently the youth arrived at the tree
to which he had tied the beast.

The pony had disappeared !

Had it broken away, or had it been
stolen?

A bit of the lariat was till hanging
to the stem of the sapling. Raphael
crept hastily to it and examined it.

The lariat had been cut witha knife;
hence the pony had not brokea away, but
had been stolen by the Sioux!

Where was the thief? Not far away.
Perhaps there were several. Ah! the

outh hears the hoof-strokes of a beast.

hey are near the adjacent spring. He
draws aside the branches and peers‘out.

W hat he beholds fills him with astonish-
ment. He sees the pony drinking at the
spring. Beside it stand two men. One,
a negro, is holding the rein. The other,
a white man, hasa rifle thrown across
his arm ready for use.

With a cry of joy Raphael bounds for-
ward. The strangers at the spring look
up suddenly.

They recognize the lad, and extend
their hands to greet him.

The white man is Sam Trimble; the
negro is Black Carter.

“Oh, you runaway rascal,” cried Sam.
“So we’ve found you at last. Thank the
Lord for that.”

“I’m all right,” said Raphael, “though
I’ve hada mighty narrow chance. Where
did youcome from, and where are the
others of our party?”

“They’re in camp where you left us.
Wallace came back, but you did not. So
we started to hunt you. Found where
there’d been a terrible fight between
some parties. Tried to hunt you up, but
got frightened by a band of Sioux, and
were thrashing around the mountains
half the day yesterday afraid to show our
noses. Had no idea we were stealing
your nag just now. Ha, ha! by mighty
—it’s confounded funny.”

Raphael then narrated briefly what had
happened to himself, at the recital of
which his companions were greatly
astonished.

“Where is this Raven’s Nest?” asked

am.

“Indeed I- have no idea,” replied
Raphael. “I was led toit blindfolded,
and fled.from it in the night; was knocked
senseless and carried off. I would give
anything: I have to find Minette,” he
added disconsolately, “but I suppose that
is an impossibility.”

“Of course it is,” said Sam. “The
Hills seem to be full of Sioux all at once,
and it’]] bother us to get back to camp
with our own scalps on our heads, and
the sooner we start the better.”

Raphael could not gainsay these words,
and so he acquiesced. in the proposition
for a speedy return, although he did so
with a heavy heart as he thought of the
probable fate of the beautiful maiden in
whom he had become so deeply interested.

The return journey was tedious though
not very long, and about the middle of
the afternoon SRO ne and his com.
panions succeeded in reaching their
camp in the secluded valley.

CHAPTER X.
THE UNITED TREASURE-SEEKERS.

 

HE presence of so many redskins in
the Hill country created much un-

a easiness in the minds of the gold-

hunters, and they scarcely knew
what to do, in the premises.

They had begun to find gold in paying
quantities at last, and of course they
were now loth to abandon the spot.

Sam Trimble and sturdy John Pratt
advised that all hands should turn in and
erect a log cabin which would give them
better quarters, and which, in the event
of an attack by prowling redskins, would
aftord considerable shelter, and enable
them to beat off the foe. This plan hav-
ing been adopted, the next two days were
devoted to.this purpose, and all felt a
greater degree of security when the cabin
was money for occupancy. :

A week passed by. The Sioux did not
molest them. Considerable gold-dust and
some small nuggets were found, but the
“find” did not pan out as well as it had
promised.

|uttered a shout of joy and, quic

 

Occasionally some adventurous pros-
pector would visit the “diggings,” shake
his head discouragingly and press farther
into the Hills.. Raphael and Wallace
continued to devote a few hours each
morning to hunting,-in which they were
reasonably successful. What meat they
did not use was dried or salted and so
kept for an emergency.

Ine day, about a fortnight after the
events heretofore narrated, the gold-dig-
gers were startled by a continuous dis-
charge of gun-shots in the valley below
them. Thetimber, which grew large and
abundantly in that region, prevented our
friends from seeing what was yoing on.

It was evident, however, that some-
thing was occurring which might deeply
effect their own interests, and so they
gathered up their mining tools, left the
vicinity of the creek, and went to the
cabin.

It was their intention to send a scout
to reconnoiter in the direction of the fir-
ing; but all necessity for this was ob-
viated very speedily—for, scarcely had the
hut been reached, when half a dozen
white men, mounted on horses, emerged
from the shelter of the woods and came
swiftly up the valley directly in the line
of the miners’ hut. ah were rough,
sturdy looking fellows, well mounted and
well armed; but they seemed to bein a
desperate hurry, and now and then they
would cast anxious looks tothe rear, as
if expecting pursuit.

It was plain that they had not been
aware of the presence of the cabin, for
when they came in sight of the hut, they
halted a moment as if greatly surprised ;
then, recovering their ee: they

c<ening
their gait, dashed boldly toward the
cabin.

Sam Trimble and the rest of the party
stood in front of the hut, guns in hand,
ready for peace or war, as the new-comers
might choose,

As the strangers draw rein we recog-
nize familiar faces. The leader of the
band, a stout old trapper, is old Barry,
the Sioux-Killer, The fresh-complexioned
youth by his side is George Bannett.
The other four men are members of Cap-
tain Watkins’ company.

How come they to be here? We will
shortly explain the circumstances to the
reader.

“Friends or foes?” demanded Sam
Trimble.

“Friends, 0’ coorse,” responded the
grizzly hunter. “'The enemies 0’ both 0’
us are behind that timber.”

“Redskins?”

“Yes—Sioux, under Sitting Bull, an’ I
think Crazy Horse is thar too.”

“Then we are in danger.”

“He, he! that’s no name for it. What
diveltry them two redskins can’t hatch
isn’t worth talkin’ about. Ah! see ’em,
hangin’ ’long the edge o’ the timber
thar?”

Indians mounted on ponies were visible
just under cover of the forest.

“We had better enter the cabin and
prepare to defend it,” said Sam Trimble.
“There’s enough of us to make it pretty
warm for them.”

In ten minutes the whites were all in-
side the hut, the openings were securely
fastened, and the defenders were ready
for the foe; but the enemy came not.

“We'll hear from ’em soon enough.
Them critters hey been bangin’ round
us for three days. Met us out on the
perary an’ tack’d us, Had astunnin’ big
skrimmidge.

“Thar was "bout thirty 0’ us an’ a
number of wagons, Crazy Horse an’ a
hundred Sioux about- used us up. Fit
"em all day an’ part o’ the night. More
reds came, an’ findin’ we wasall gone
under anyhow, we lit out every feller for
hisself.

“We six managed to git together in the
Hills an’ arranged a sartin expedition up
this way, when Sitting Bull an’ the
Sioux got on our track agin, an’ I’m_ not
sure but they’!l scoop us this time. Never
seed the reds stirred up so much. They
think the hull white race is goin’ to in-
vade the Black Hills, an’ they hev
banded together to keep ’em out. Thar-
four thar’]l be heaps o’ fightin’ an blood
lettin’ afore long. See you uns are gold-
huntin’ too. Not much luck, Hain’t
struck the right spot!” And old Barry
winked slyly at young Bannett.

Toward sundown the redskins began to
make their appearance. There wer,
plenty ofthem. Atonetime Sam Trimble
counted nearly a hundred. Matters were
assuming a very serious aspect. The
whites would be surrounded, besieged
and captured. They might, itis true,
slay many of the Sioux first, but what
satisfaction would that be to them, when
their own scalps were gone? Even old
Barry looked dubiously. He and some
of his men consulted together. Then the
hunter addressed Sam Trimble and the
other gold-diggers. i

“Thar’s no use stayin’ hyar,” said he,
“for thar’s not much good anyhow. An’
we’ll lose our sculps if we remain. Now,
after consultin’ my companions, I’ve a

 

propersition to make. We six are on the
hunt for a heap.o’ buried treasure. We
didn’t intend to tell anybody else bout
it, but it’s evident that ef we expect to
git hold o’ it, we’ve got to hev more help
on account o’ these pesky Sioux. Thar-
four; we've »concluded to ask your crowd
to jine with us, an’ we'll divide the
spoils. What do ye say?”

There was considerable consultation
upon the subject, the result ef which
was that the miners agreed to cast their
lot with the others, and to go with them
in search of the buried gold.

The next question was whether to de-
fend the hut or, taking advantage of an
opportunity, to abandon it and leave the
diggings entirely. It was decided to do
the latter.

So as soon as night had fallen the
whites left the cabin, mounted their
horses and, taking along what provisions
and ammunition they had, moved stealth-
ily up the valley, unobserved by the
Sioux, who, never dreaming of such a
flight, were lying concealed in the tim-
ber, awaiting a later hour.in which to
surround and capture the cabin. with its
occupants.

Old Barry used all his ingenuity to
conceal their trail, requiring the men to
bind strips of blanket over the hoofs of
the horses, and compelling them to ride
over the hardest and stoniest tracts he
could find,

Morning found the party miles distant
from the cabin, in the midst of wild and
picturesque scenery, where they halted
for breakfast and to rest.

Raphael Armitage had taken quite a
liking for young George Bannett, whose
countenance somehow seemed familiar,
and was more than pleased with the
stalwart old trapper, with whom he lost
no opportunity to engage in conversation.

After they had resumed the journey
Dena suddenly exclaimed: “Why, this
looks familiar tome. By Jove! we can-
not be far from the Raven's Nest.” This
remark called forth inquiries from George
Bannett and the Sioux-Killer, to whom
Raphael briefly narrated the adventures
of the fertnight before.

“Do you think there’s any chance of my
finding Minette?” asked Raphael, anx-
iously, of the old hunter.

Barry shook his head hopelessly.

“We often read in the books,” said he,
“about folks recoverin’ their lost friends,
but them that gits lost gin’rally stay lost.
That’s my experience, an’ I’ve been thar
too. The infarnal Sioux scalp’d my
wife ’n boy years ago, an’ carried off my
git. Hunt for her? Reck’n I did. Didn’t

o nothin’ for three years cept scalp
Sioux an’ hunt for my gal Julia. Found
lots o’ Sioux, but no girl, an’ never will.
Went crazy over the subject, they say.
They tell me *bout-things I did an’ said
durin’ three or four years that I can’t re-
member about now. Reck’n I must hey
been with them gold-diggers what buried
the treasure, durin’ them three years,”
he added, addressing Bannett. “ An’ that
accounts for the cur’ous idees I've allus
had on the subject. It happened when I
was out o’ my head.”

“It seems to me I’ve met you before,’
said Raphael to George Bannett. “At
least your face seems very familiar to
me.”

“Hum! it’s like old Barry’s dream I
guess,” replied the youth with a laugh,
“Certainly I never saw your face before.”

That noon, as the party was resting in
the valley, George Bannett said:

“We must be very near our destination.
I am certain that I have been here before,
for there is a wonderful familiarity in the
appearance of the valley, the peaks and
every natural thing. If only there. was
a waterfall now, it would be complete.”

Toward the middle ot the afternoon a
dull sound struck upon their ears, which,
growing more distinct as they made their
way up the narrow valley, attracted
their attention. ,

“By hokey!” snorted old Barry, “it’s a
cascade! We've found the waterfall at
last. Wahoo! boyees, lick up the crit-
ters. Hurrah! fur the treasure.”

These inspiring words created a whirl
of enthusiasm, and forward went the lit-
tle party pell-mell at a break-neck pace,
the valley growing narrower and more
rugged at each step, and the little stream
that coursed along becoming whiter with
foam from the churning of the water
at the falls.

Presently the party turned a bend and
the cascade was in full view.

Bannett and old Barry shouted out in
chorus:
rhe two hemlocks! We’ve found it at

ast.”

The falls were broad but low, not

much higher than a good sized mill dam,
and on either bank stood a tall hemlock,
their tops pointing together over the cen-
ter of the waterfall.
_ A quiver of excitement ran through the
minds of all as they drew rein at the foot
of the cascade and gazed upon its foam-
ing, sparkling waters.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

THE COUNTERFEITER’S STORY) UNL

BY UNCLE NED.

ST _WAS off on my summer hunting alld) A Plucky
I} fishing tour up in the Adirondacks) —
| some years ago. Wishing to try thi
head of a stream which flows fromé By

| high mountain lake into the lower®

the three Blue Mountain lakes, Itook my
rod and fly-hook, and with a good revoly pl UNcux Sa
ver in my belt for game, if I needed anyy number
started through the heavy pine woo)
which border the lake. “

It was a hard tramp, up hill, ov@ —
rocky ledges, and a part of the wa “,
through a thick growth of ground hei}

lock, as hard to pass almost as a Call | H
fornia chaparral. ims a

But at last I reached the vicinity % a
the lake, as I could see by light throug) it
the trees ahead, and stood listening 4 ©0mfortab)
the rush of water in the rapid outley back brac
when the scent of smoke reached Wj Tanning Pe:
nostrils. «a id Brating

At this I wondered, for I believed th® ifin’ a try
to be a region yet unexplored by fish@) Vessel yo}]

man or hunter, the repeated sign % ‘0m side ¢
moose having convinced me that the 14) M™ unison,
had not been here to disturb them in th) . Down. p¢
lofty haunts and feeding: grounds. | ‘Orward de
Going dead to windward to ascertalt “onstantly
where the smoke came from, I approaché rch of a
the rapid and noisy stream that ran fro? h chose

the lake, and in about ten minutes cally ne ocew
upon a fire just in front of a huge cleft™ 28 disturbe

a precipice of rock, and a second Jat &Way in th
came upon a man, whose long, whif Was fast p
hair and beard betokened advanced age lors On {
while his clothes showed extreme pover¥ to Watch |
for they were literally all to pieces. - Clouds lose
he, too, lying on an old tattered blanké themselyes
seemed to be in the last stage of disso! uffy gar
tion—wan, hollow-eyed, almost a ske*) thvdrous

ton. _
“In Heaven’s name, old man, what # 8
you doing here?” I cried. 7
“Dying, I reckon; but I’m glad som, Ome,
body has come to see me off!” he sali. Going far
in a low, gasping tone. “Promise © ae aloft a
bury me so the wolves won’t gnaw ™ - i Qt in shy
bones, and I’]] tell you something.” «= sng, ad ha

“I'll do better. I'l] get you downy, th ted to |
Eagle Lake, if you can last till I go © rest. |
help, and you shall at least die teemed wil
human comforts around you,” I said. — dine? from

“No, no; I shall never see another 8H) qj €Ction of

set. 1 know it. The chill of death is! frets Sov
ns

      
       

   
    

     

     

my heart. I’ve hidden away from My Af

a long time, and I don’t want to see, OF") ti, ter bre;
seen, any more. You look as if lite) Of ove
thought | was a murderer, but my wh, Party,
is free from blood. But I was a couD¥y he, remai)
feiter—the head of a big gang. They®) the pulinary
after us very hot. I was betrayed by@ 7, ark for
of the gang—sold for his own freed tha “2e cap
but I got away. I’ve kept away .€Y) nag, Starboa
since, living—the Lord only knows hoy | teetty in
but living—a hermit in these woods.94 — & qual

     

  
    

4 Mediate

     
  
   

  
    
     

      

   
 
 

      

     
   
   
     
      
    

    

  
  
  
   

is thirty years I’ve been here, now. 4 ino.
I reckon I’m past arrest and trou, | Mary; an epi
Were you ever in Schoharie Couty — real n
near the springs where the Delawé i €st imy
River heads, above Lake Utsayanthef,y — pposerva
“T was born in Delaware County,, It
said, “but I know little about the sec! £es_ for
you name.” 4
“It was there we worked,” gasped }
old man. “There were only a few sett!
near by, and we had a cave in the wo@ bef
where we lived and melted our amalg@ | Phi
and coined our money into dollars, hal¥ Mas ’

and quarters,

“We pretended to be mining, to be 10
ing for lead one of the Indians had fom
in the olden time. The people called ®
ylace where we worked Mine Hill.
de you’ve heard of it. We made a
of hard money there, and our age
worked it off, and we got a great dea),
good money together—enough to have™
us all rich, if we had been satisfied ®
quit. But we wanted more, and so *
on till all at once we heard officers W,
on our track and were coming to grab!
and our spoils. d

“It was all hurry then. We divi)
up our good money—most of us burié
close by, marking the places so we W®
know where to look again, and then _
scattered. They caught some; an@ «|
well, I’ve been afraid to go back ag©

   
   
   
   
   
    
    
   
   
 

 
 
   
   

     
     
   
   
    
    
  

  

  
     

     

on tne ot
Me e qui
degtium Size

       
 

  
      
 
  

   
 

   

 
 
 
    
    
     
   
   
      
    

and now——’ . 182ch. Jy
A terrible fit of coughing came_ ad wa
blood flowed freely from the poor 7g cupie
man’s mouth, and I could see he™ the p
olng. t Sever;
o Tenderly I raised his head, and for |
thanked me with a look from his 4 kw

      

  

eyes.

He tried hard amid the fits of coug®
to say something more, but it wa
disjointed I could make nothing of }

“Rods east—spring—forked oak-¥
old maple—roots—money huried——
then the blood gushed out so fast he®
say no more. a

f did all I could to help him, but J
no stimulant with me, and cou
none in his litthe den back in the ?¥
Water would not revive him, al,
sank gradually away, dying just

    

 
 

   
   
   
   
    

  

        

 
 

 
    
 

  

  
      
     
   

  

    

  

   

 
 

 

   

sunset, ;

     
ed

> STORY:

hunting aud
dirondack®
g to try tht
lows from#4
he lower?
s, I took ny
good revo}
vecded any
pine woo#

» hill, ov@
of the wa
round hei
as a :

vicinity @
ght throug!
listening @
apid outle
reached WJ

 

elieved th
d by fishel)
ed sign &
hat the lai)
hem in the)
inds. ys
to ascertall)
I approach®
hat ran frd
Linutes cal!
huge cleft ®
second Jatt
long, whit
ivanced @
eme poverty
pieces.

red blankell
eof disso)
1ost a skelt

an, what &

lad some)
rP he sail
“Promise
"bt gnaw i
thing.” &
you down ‘
till I go i
ist die wil
,” I said.
another av
f death a
ay from mi
it to see, or
k as if vi
but my hv
as a count
ng. They
trayed by @&
wn freed
it away ye
knows hy
se woods.
re, NOW. Br
and trou
harie Cou
he Delawe)
sayanthef,]
e Countys4
ut the sect!
th!

” prasped

‘a fe w settlf
in the wo
our amalBi
ollars, hal¥

"
uns nae po
le calle
re Hill, Ma
made a B if
d our agli
great deal
oh to have ig
satisfied p)
., and so yr)
| officers Wa

ng to grab

ng, to bel@

We aividl
f us burie@y)
ss so we Wlg
and then V
ome; an@
o back ag@

 

ing came ai
the poor
d see he ©)

I
head, and,
rom his ay

 

iff
its of cough"
ut it Pat?
thing of 1¥*
ced Eak-tI
muried—— of!
so fast he® |

him, but 1%
nd could ig)
k in the ri ye
him, ange
rng just DO”

'
'

 

GOOD NEWS.

    

1755

 

UNCLE SAM'S JACK TARS:

OR,

A Placky Pair on Board the Mimesota,

—+

 

By ENRIQUE H. LEWIS.

mnfiiadpaaeeade

(“Oncre Sam’s JAcK TARS” was commenced in No. 100
Back humbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

emenpniert aqmanmase

CHAPTER XXIII.
“THE BARK IS AFIRE!”’

HEN the first faint glimmer of
anew day lessened the shadows
aboard the Naiad next morning,

“e it revealed the form of Dick
nfortably resting in the fore top, with
ack braced against a mass of tangled
fpaning gear and his feet projecting over

i € grating. He was asleep, as sound as

§ M a trundle bed at home and, as. the
€ssel rolled in long soothing motions

occupied one house, the former. being
nearest the bow and containing ten bunks.
She had probably carried a crew of
twelve, all told, which included, Ashley
stated, one deck boy.

The hatches were tightly battened
down, and Phil, on sounding the well,
found very little water im the bilges, in
fact not much more than is generally the
case, a marvel considering the buffiting
she had received.

Happening to glance aft, Foster saw
the boat he had noticed from the mizzen-
rigging on the preceding day.

“I think we had better see at once if she
is damaged much,” he suggested, calling
their attention to where it hung over the
stern rail. “No telling when we may
need something to get away in.”

It. was coverea by a tarpaulin as a pro-
tecion from the blistering rays of the
sun, and had been se tightly fastened to
the iron davits that the force of the seas
had not been strong enough to carry it
away.

On removing the canvas, they. were
agreeably surprised to find the only injury
| the boat had received was a slight

 

Om side to side, he nodded and swayed | splintering of the forward gunwale next

M unison.

Pe Own below Jerrold was walking the

ee Ward deck with ceaseless tread, his eye

seg stantly sweeping the horizon in
arch of a possible gleam of light. He

tineg chosen this part of the ship so the

oo occupants of the cabin would not
disturbed. It was now past five, and

“Way in the east the sun’s magic brush
Was f

lors on the boundless sky. He paused

as Watch the black stretch of distant
Uds lose their somber hue, and clothe
*mselyes first in soft-tinted garments
Wo uffy gauze, then sparkle forth in such
the wrous depths of gorgeous beauty that
pact ent witness stood rapt until the
me acle faded, then, with a start, he re-
ree Mbered that the time for work. had
me,
Going farther forward, Ashley cast his
a aloft and saw Dick’s head wabbling
the In slumber, but remembering what
eres had passed through he simply
the ed to him and walked aft to arouse
teens 3 In a few minutes the bark
Poured! with signs of activity; smoke
direct; from the caboose pipe, and in the
is lon of the cabin a merry clatter of
fresh, Showed that Dick had awoke re-
in spirit.
tig ter breakfast Phil signified his inten-
litt] of overhauling the bark, and_ the
€ party, with the exception of Edith,
a remained in the galley to pursue
the Culinary work, thoroughly examined
ark fore and aft.
the’ the captain’s cabin, a large room on
nh Centar board side, were found al] the
Row @ty instruments used in navigation.
inn & quadrant and sextant ready for
ni ediate use; a chronometer still run-
mas, an epitome well thumbed and with
Breatest | notes; and, what was of the
ast ee importance, a chart showing the
skip Servation made by the unfortunate
de er: It was in latitude thirty-six
longits forty-one minutes west, and
Sout ude four degrees eight minutes
“ »
eu ot must have drifted with a westerly
ark before we came on_ board,” re-
tha ed Phil, studying the chart, “and
Magee, let me see, 1 think the quarter-
Const. @board the Vandalia said it was
ab, te from the no-nor-east, or there-
i but it might have shifted a dozen
at nog Well, I’ll be able to get a sight
“G n, and we’ll soon find where we are.”
Paing os in this state-room revives
‘Ca a recollections,” said Jerrold sadly ;
kin 4in Hawkins was a good man, and
me end. It is too bad that he should

ast painting a picture of shapeless |

ithe ship. She appeared large enough to
| carry a dozen persons easily, with space
| besides for a. quantity of provisions,
Stowed away under the seats was a mast
with sails attached, and aft near the stern
the careful captain had taken the pre-
caution to place a breaker of water and
|a tin. box filled with biscuit in case of
sudden need.

“I am very glad to see she is in good
| condition,” remarked Phil, as he helped
|to replace the covering. “Now, we are
| not entirely dependent on the bark if any-
'thing happens. I think it would be bet-
| ter to put in some more provisions and
|a compass, and we might.as_ well do it
|}now while we think about it.”
| - “I hope it will never be necessary to use
her,” said Jerrold, as they added the
| articles mentioned,
| “Except to. get ashore,” hinted Gor-
‘man; “a boat. will come in handy if we
should sight land.”

“Yes, that is so,” replied Foster, with
akind look of encouragement at Bob,
who had been very subdued since the
| scene in the cabin. “We might strike a
|rocky coast, and need a sinall craft to
make the beach with. Now boys, to
work !”

Dick startled them by giving a good
imitation of a boatswain’s whistle, and
shouting:

“All hands make sail.”

Edith put her head out of the galley
|door with a merry laugh which was
| echoed by the rest.
| “That’s well enough on a man-of-war,”
}corrected Phil, “but here we want more
action than noise.

“Now. Jerrold,” he continued, over-
hauling the fore-topsail sheets, “vou had
better stay below and let go what ropes
I point, out. The rest.of us will run aloft
and see what we can do with the upper
topsail. When I shout just release the
clewlines, and see that chey run clear.”

The three boys climbed the shrouds with
a quickness born of experience, and. lay
out on the upper yard. The sail had been
furled hastily and was fastened by a rope
wound around itin several turns. This
was quickly cast off, and the damp can-
vas fell down in wrinkled folds.

At Phil’s command Ashley let go the
clewlines, but they jammed in the blocks,
and Dick. had to overhaul them aloft.
A‘l that now remained was to haul taut
the sheets and hoist away.

The last was a job that required the
united efforts of all hands, and it was
only after a long and steady pull that the
sail was stretched. When that was ac-

 

 

“A © such an end.”
of, Met the fate that lurks in the path |
Co OLY Sailor,” replied Foster, looking
ClothjrPlatively at the many articles of |
the dae hanging about, silent 1elics of |
Seg jad. ““He who goes down to the
Rerg Ships ete.,’ you know, but it’s a dan-
Progre Calling at best, and marks its

On f With countless victims.”

Werg t © other side of the after cabin
Mediy © quarters of the Ashleys, two
beq a. Sized berths containing only one
TS ae Just forward of the dividing |
been ead was a room that had evidently
it Came cuPied by the mate, and next to
hays © the pantry, a narrow closed affair
fashid Several shelves fitted out steamer-
hea ss for holding plates, and an over-
the oe with glasses. A quantity of
*Olleg S¢kery had been broken and ‘still
Water about the deck in oe of sea
ight, Which filtered through the dead

Magee is the store-room, Jerrold?”
“Her hil, as they passed out on deck.
- fron? Pointing to a cuddy hatch just
Rags Ub of the cabin window. “This
O von ©wn under the poop-deck to it.
\ , Want to go now?”
tder ess not. We had better get her
The nt first. There will be plenty of
They Ook up the stores afterward.”
then went forward to the fore-

 

complished, the yards were braced around
to starboard, and the huge fore sail let
go. There was a moderate breeze blow-
ing from off the port quarter, just enough
to belly the sails, and it was some little
time before the ’bark felt it to any ex-
tent.

“Aft to the spanker, bullies!” shouted
Phil, seeing the need of that sail im-
mediately. “Dick, you take the wheel
and get her before the wind, while we
put some after canvas on her,”

The spanker, a. sail something like the
fore and aft sails of a schooner, which
worked between a long :lower boom and
a gaff, was soon set, and then, under
the skillful guidance of Blount, the bark
paid off smartly.

“Keep her full,” cried Foster, looking
at the fore-topsail. “How is she head-
ing now?”

“So-so-west half west,” answered the
young steersman in a nasal drawl. “But
I think I have her tooclose. The weather
leach is shivering a little.”

“Let her go a half point. Steady
there, now keep her at that if possible,
It’s lucky we havea fair wind,” he added,
wiping his brow, and looking out over

the stretch of water showing a bit of foam:

here and there as the breeze freshened
slightly.
“Shall I take a regular trick at the

castle and found that it and the galley |

 

wheel now?” questioned Dick, as the rest
moved forward.

“Ah, yes, I had forgotten that,” replied
Foster. “You had better keep it an hour,
and then Bob will relieve you. ‘To-night
we will arrange watches again.”

As it was drawing near noon Phil went
below to get a sextant, but had hardly
reached the cabin when he heard a _ hub-
bub on deck and Gorman burst through
the door, his blanched face plainly show-
ing that something unusual had occurred.

“What is the matter?” asked our hero
in an alarmed voice, grasping him by the
shoulder.

“The bark is afire!”

CHAPTER XXIV.

RESCUED AT LAST.
Sas i F
‘7 I is a time of danger when a vessel is

I; in the midst of a howling gale, the
2 wind blowing with the fury of ten
=> thousand demons; masts. carried
away and helpless inthe trough of the
sea,

It is a time of peril when the low
sullen growl of menacing breakers sounds
from alee shore as a _ resistless current
draws the doomed ship steadily on, but
the word that. pales the cheek, and
freezes the life blood in asailor’s veins is
that dread conjurer of disaster—“ fire.”

Gorman’s actions as he stood gasping
in front of Phil; his terrified face ae
quivering lip, were premonitions of some
terrible calamity, but, even so, when he
cried: ‘“The bark is afire,” it was like
a blow, and Foster fairly staggered under
it, but only for a moment.

Without a word of reply, or a single
question, he dashed through the cabin,
out on the poop-deck, and saw a. thick
column of smoke pouring from under
the half deck forward. Jerrold was
already actively at work throwing bucket
after bucket of water on the burning

clasped in terror.

 

ready an incipient blaze had started on
one of the seats.

Dick could stand it no longer. Ages
seemed to have elapsed since Phil and
Gorman had vanished, and he was just
going toclimb up the swaying painter
when they appeared over the rail. A
half dozen packages dropped into the
yawl with a succession of light thuds,
and Bob lowered himself, followed by
Foster, who grabbed an oar as he touched
the bottom.

“Cut the painter, quick!” shouted the
latter. “Out oars, and pull to windward.
Bend your backs, or she ll burn on top of

With a rapid slash of his knife, Blount
severed the rope that held them to the
bark, and then the four labored with all
their strength at the ashen blades, until
they were some distance away from the
bark,

The wind was fresh enough to ruffle the
water’s surface into short, choppy waves,
causing the boat to rock about in a most
uncomfortable manner and dashing an
occasional shower of spray over the oc-
cupants. It was blowing from the south-
east, as near as Phil could judge, and a
ridge of dul! looking clouds, banking in
the misty haze to windward brought an
uneasy expression into the lad’s face as
he observed it. If it increased to a gale,
their position wouid become of extreme
peril, and he knew that a boat the size of
the yawl could never ride through it in
safety. As it was, the present waves
were quite enough to keep one of them
baling the water that found its way over
the gunwale.

After reaching a safe distance they
paused and rested on their oars. No ef-
fort had been made to set the litcle sail
as yet; it required certain.preparations,
and rapidity in movment was essential
just then.

Heartily did the little group of watchers

| thank their lucky stars for the compara-
|tive safety afforded by the yawl as they
spot, and Edith stood close by, her hands | eae acoss the space separating them

rom the burning bark. Devouring flames

Dick had left the wheel and with ready | n0w enveloped her from stem to stern,

wit was letting go the fore-:topsail hal-
yards, having already lowered the
spanker gaff. The bark was falling off
rapidly and, as she spun around, the
wind lifted the hanging topsail, a shower
of sparks flew up, and instantly it became
a blazing mass of canvas.

“Get all the buckets out of the deck-
house,” shouted Phil, as he ran past
Blount; “Gorman, bring those from the
cabin.: Here, Jerrold, form a line.”

Edith bravely took her place next her
brother and, tucking her skirts behind,
passed the heavy pails as quickly as they
appeared. The smoke was growing more
dense, and little tongues of red darted
out licking up the stout detk planking
like tinder.. From down below a roaring
noise could be heard growing in intensity,
and every now and then the flames burst
forth if a fiery, scorching volume, ignit-
ing the ropes, and sending Serpents of
blazing hemp up the towering masts.

Phil soon saw that all efforts were
useless. The fire had gained a headway
impossible to check, and the bark was
doomed. Calling to the others, he ran
aft to the boat falls and commenced cast-
ing off the turns. The heat was growing
fiercer every moment. AJ] that part for-
ward of the forecastle became a raging
furnace, and lines of fire were quickly ex-
tending toward the mainmast.

It. took some little time to release the
falls from where they had heen tightly
wound around the cleats, but busy hands
were actively at work, and the yawl was
at last ready to be lowered. The canopy
had been removed, and at Foster’s com-
mand Edith was helped in, sitting in the
stern while the rest quickly slacked
away. Just before it touched the water
Phil called out to Gorman, who was at

the other falls, to belay, at the same time |
7 half deck.

fastening his end.

“You and Jerrold shin down into the
boat,” he shouted to Dick, “and cast off
when she strikes. Here, throw me that
painter.”

They did as directed, and Blount tossed
the rope over the rail. Bob caught it
and quickly made fast to the iron davits,
leaving a little slack.

“Lower away smartly,” directed Foster,
when Gorman returned to the falls, then,
when the ropes swung loose, he called to
those in the buat to let go, adding:

“Haul up a little closer under the
quarter. We are going to get more food.
Stand by to receive it when we return,”

He and Bob hurried below through the
after companion-way, leaving the occu-
pants of the yawl anxiously watching the
rapid progress of the flames as they
worked their way from fore to main, and
then with a whirl of sparks and glowing
cinders, to the unfurled spanker. The
breeze had shifted, or else the bark, in
its constant tossing about on the lumpy
sea, had turned around until the heat
blew directly aft, bearing on its fiery
breath fragments of blazing wood and
bits of canvas, which fell into the boat.

It was becoming unbearable, and al-

|

 

and a yellowish glare from the fiery mass
smarted their eyes at even that distance.
The dense smoke had thinned away until
it formed only a somber fringe trailing
astern in shadowy streaks, and very now
and then a faint hissing noise could be
heard as a detached fragment of burn-
ing spar would drop into the sea.

It was an hour before the vessel burned
to the water’s edge, but still they sat re-
gardless of everything else, and when at
Jast the charred hull gave one final plunge
and disappeared in a cloud of steam, they
looked at_ the spot covered with floating
debris as if in a dream.

“Well, she is gone,” said Jerrold, rub-
bing his eyes, “and weare still afloat
thanks to the yawl. I shudder when i
think of what would have been our fate
without it.”

“We have had some narrow escapes,”
added Dick, as he assisted Gorman in
stepping the little mast, “but this last
was by a hair’s breadth.”

“How do you think the bark caught
fire?” asked Edith of Foster, who was sit-
ting next her holding the tiller.

“IT hardly know,” he replied, “but. it
probably ignited from that flare we. built
last night. The fire must have. burned
clear through the deck, and smoldered
undc«rneath after we had put it out above,
It was very careless of me in not making
a thorough examination at the time, but
the disappointment and rage at that
steamer’s crew drove everything else out

of my head. Who first noticed. the
smoke?”

“I did,” answered Bob. “When you
went below I started forward to haul

taut. the weather fore-topsail sheet, and
had just passed the galley whena puff
of black smoke burst out from under the
As soon as I saw it, I called
out to the rest and ran down to tell you.”

“It seems to me that it wasn’t more
than two minutes from the time he gave
warning before the whole forward part
of her was aflame,” put in Dick from the
bow, where he was setting the stay-sail,
“and as soon as he hollered I dropped the
wheel like a shot an’ Jet go the peak hal-

yards. Then I ran and cast off the fore-
topsail halyards as you reached the
deck.”

“That was a very wise action on your
part, Dick,” commended Foster, “a ves-
sel’s way should be stopped immediately
a fire has been discovered. You know
that is what the station bills say on
board.”

“Yes, I have attended fire quarters
enough to Jearn it, but, by the way, your
speaking about a flare just now reminds
me that the burning of the bark ought
to act asa pretty good one. It was big
enough, eh?”

“By Jove, that’s so!” exclaimed Phil,
starting up and scanning the horizon;
“that smoke could be seen for miles, and
if there were any vessels near, they would
undoubtedly alter their course.”

“Yes, without it was our friend of last

PE nn Seer Pee nn

ih
if
i

boi

 

  

   
    
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
    
    
   
  
  
    
 
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
    
   
    
    
   
 
    
   
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
   
 
   
  
 
 
 
    
   
   
 
   
  
  
 
 
     
   
  
 
  
    
 
  
  
  
    
  
 
   
  
     
   
   
  
    
 
 
  
  
    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
SS Rial AS eR ee aot

 

1756

GooD NEWS.

 

night,” remarked Jerrold, ina sarcastic

manner,
“Ah! such sharks as those are scarce,

thank goodness,” Phil responded, as he

again resumed his seat.

“Nothing is in sight yet, but there is
It might take aship an
it

time enough.
hour to come into our view after
noticed the smoke.”

The yawl was under sail now, but made

very little progress on account of the

choppy waves; still it was better than
waliowing in the trough of the sea, and
all felt more satisfied tobe moving. Phil
still held the tiller, and it required all
his efforts to keep the boat before the
wind, which was gradually increasing.
Jerrold and Gorman had just commenced
taking an inventory of provisions on
hand, a vital question, when Edith asked
the startling question:

“Isn’t that a sail over there?” pointing

“I don’t know,” replied the judge,
musingly. “There haven't been any de-
cisions on cases exactly like this. But
awe does Mr. Potts say upon the sub-
ec ”

“Why, Potts’ view is thatI divided
the dog the wrong way. When he wants
to map out his half he draws a line from
the middle of the nose, right along the
spine, and clean to the end of the tail.
That gives me one hind leg and one fore
leg, and makes him joint proprietor in
the tail. And he says that if I wanted
to cut off my half of the tail I might
have done it, and he wouldn’t ’ve cared;
but what made him mad was that I
wasted his property without consulting
him. But that theory seems to me a lit-
tle strained, and if it’s legal, vay I’m
oing to close out my own half of that
aoe at a sacrifice sooner than hold any |
interest in him on those principles. Now,

This speech was greeted by a burst of
laughter from the children.

“Well, Bill,” Dick Leveret said, “let’s
see if you can remember what happened
to you one time while you were driving
stage to Pike’s Peak ever so many years
ago, long before the railroad was built
through.”

“Happened—there was so many things
thet I must stop end think,” returned
Deerskin Bill, forgetfully. “Do ye mean
when the avalanche slid down on me, or
the hosses broke loose end percipitated
the stage into the gulch, or the big b’ar
planted himself* across the road in front
or me, or the Rocky Mountain ghost came
down the canon——”

“No, no,” interrupted Dick, with some-
thing like contempt, “all those will do
for commonplace adventures, but we
want cousin to hear the real hair-raisin
Indian story—how they burnt you and

  

whisky?” interrupted little Grace, who)
could not endure the torture longer.

“Tut, tut, sweetheart, ye mustn’t break
the plot too suddint,” responded Bill)
with mild reproof. “Howsumever, it was
Jest at this crisis thet one 0’ the savagé
diskivered the demijohns o’ firewateh)
which he wasn’t long in communicatiM:
to the balance of the Injuns. They begalll
to drink end dance, end drink end dane
agin, till ther fiendish leaps got. twisted!
into boozy staggers, end at last they)
dropped onto the ground as dead @#& y
wheel-spokes for the time bein’. Whel)
the last one was fairly down I sez
Willie: : i

“ ‘Could ye by eny means break loost).
from yer bands?’ J

“He struggled desperately, but thé
would not give way, end then his courage)
broke. When death hed stared him i} «4s

A Vo

“ Oh, Bill, isn’t it time to bring in the: i a

  
    

Willie at the stake, you know.” S

The children had heard the story many
times before, but an expression of resolute
endurance closely resembling torture
crept into their young faces as they pre-
pared to listen again to Deerskin Bill’s
adventure with the Indians.

“Ye see ’twas years before the Kansas
Pacific Railroad stretched through the
‘Golden Belt,’ whith means the finest

toward the western horizon.

Phil turned quickly, and in his excite-
ment almost let go of the helm. A blur
of white was plainly visible on the star-
board beam, and the lad instantly saw
that it was a vessel.

The course of the little craft was im-
mediately changed, and by closely hug-
ging the wind, she slowly crept toward

what do you think about it?”

“Well,” said the judge, “I can hardly
decide so important a question off-hand;
but at the first glance my opinion is that
you own the whole dog and Potts also/|
owns the whole dog. So when he bites
you a suit won't lie against Potts, and
the ‘only thing you can do to obtain jus-
tice is to make the dog bite Potts also.

the face he hed been resoloot, but whe Wint, ean
life hed seemed about to interfere with an er he
the grim monster in the boy’s behalf box sear
end then hed backed out agin, Will rairin an
couldn’t be blamed fer takin’ on a bit. ~ ichic
““T can’t break ’em,’ he said, with #] « oes
kind 0’ sob end wail thet betokened how Winton Y
his hopes hed riz to fall agin. ‘I af Rave’ mi
bound as fast as yonder rocks thet b@) gpaq.°™te

 

OF BAS Loe Cas F
SR ORR Tash ne ae ORT ee

Pry
~

sp one

Fangs Ase

——
oxi het xu

SA TR

; r Tew Re ee a
BRERA PES PRG ONE RE RE EL AS? RE

the faraway sail. Their previous disap-
ointment rendered them chary of hope-
ul words now, and each waited with
compressed lips, and strict attention.
Presently it became evident that she
was coming towardthem. The indistinct
spot changed into the swelling sails of
a ship, then the hull rose out of the water;
apiece of bunting soared aloft; and at
last a puff of white smoke shot out from
her side, followed by the deep boom of a

n.
att is the Vandalia!” cried Dick, danc-
ing about in the little boat like one pos-
sessed, and so it proved.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—___~- e-e

SCUDDER’S DOG CASE.

BY MAX ADELER,

at

MAN came into the office of Judge
Parker the other day while I was
in there attending to a little law
business, and he said:
“Judge, my name is Scudder. I called
to see you about a dog case that kinder
bewilders me, and I thought maybe you
might throw some light on her—might
ie give me the law points so’s I’d
now whether it was worth while suing
or not.
“Well, judge you seeme anda man
named Potts went into partnership on a
dog. We bought him. e was a setter,
and meand Potts went shares on him
so’s totake him out hunting. It was
never exactly settled which half of him
I owned and which half of him belonged
to Potts, but somehow I kinder formed
an idea in my own mind that the hind
end was Scudder’s and the front end
Potts’. Consequence was that when the
dog barked I always said, ‘there goes
Potts’ half exercising itself,’ and when
the dog’s tail wagged i always considered
that my end was being agitated. And,
of course, when one of my hind legs
scratched one of Potts’ ears or one of his
shoulders, I was perfectly satisfied; first,

As for the tail, when it is separated from
the dog it is no longer the dog’s tail, and
it is not worth fighting about.”

“Can’t sue Potts, you say?”

“T think not.”

“Can't get damages for the meat that’s
been bit out of me?”

“T hardly think you can.”

“Well, well, and yet they talk about
American civilization, and temples of
justice, and such things. All right. Let
it go. I kin stand it; but don’t anybody
cver undertake to tell me that the law

rotects human beings in their rights.

ood-morning, judge.”

“Wait a minute, Mr. Scudder,” said the
judge, “you’ve forgotten my fee.”

“F-f-f-fee! Why, you don’t charge any-
thing when I don’t sue, do you?”

“Certainly, for my advice. My fee is
ten dollars.”

“Ten dollars! Ten dollars! Why,
judge, that’s just what I paid for my

alf of that dog. Ihaven’t got fifty cents
tomy name. But I'll tell you what I’ll
do. I'll make over all my rights in that
setter pup to you, and you kin go round
and fight it out with Potts. If that dog
bites me agin I'll sue vou and Potts as
sure as my name’s Scudder.”

Potts owns the whole dog now, and
Scudder guns without one.

DEERSKIN BILL’S STORY.

BY T. R. JENNESS,
39,
G URING avisit in Denver, a few
|) years ago, my attention was at-
¢ tracted one morhing by a sound
of lively greeting on the piazza,

just below my chamber window. The
next moment Bessie Leveret’s face
gleamed in upon me as she eagerly ex-
claimed:

“Come down, please do. He’s here,
and there’ll be such exciting talk !”
Descending, I found my three young
cousins

wheat country in the world. Westin
Kansas was a howlin’ wilderness, and
Denver was nothin’ but a tradin’ post
when I used to come end git pervisions
end miner’s shirts, end I’m sorry to say,
whisky, which the miners round Pike’s
Peak hed ordered, end it seemed to be
my dooty to transport. I used to drive
four mules end four hosses, end when the
road was dangerous, the mules went
ahead end picked the way, but when
"twas even ground end I wanted to make
quick time, I gin the hosses the lead,
end neater-footed critters it hes never
been my lot to wave the ribbons over.

“Wal, as Iwas about to start on my
route one mornin’ with a steep load o’ per-
visions end shirts, end whisky, but nary
a passenger, ther suddintly appeared
afore me a boy with yaller hair, end eyes
the color 0’ yen sky thet tips down side-
ways to the snowy range.

“Wher, in the name of all _ thet’s
bright end shinin’, do you hail from?’ I
axed, with wonder end amazement.

“ “Came across the plains with an emi-
rant train,’ he answered, with a mourn-
ul kind o’ smile. ‘Am goin’ to Pike’s

Peak to search for father, who came out
two years ago end hes not been heard
from only onct. Mother’s pinin’ away
with grief end suspense, so I’m goin’ to
try to find out somethin’ sartint.’

“Thet was the boy’s meanin’, but the
bootiful soft voice end nice smooth words
*twon’t be expected of Deerskin Bill to
imitate.

“Wal, I learnt while we was on the jog
thet the missin’ father of the purty boy
was one 0’ them knowin’ fellows w’at
spends his life a huntin’ bugs, end stones,
end other cuius things.”

“A naturalist,” I said, seeing the moun-
taineer hesitate for an appropriate word
with which to express his meaning.

“Kerzactly. He'd come out to make
collections for his cuiosity-shelf, but, as
nigh as I could jedge, he’d been collected
up onto the shelf hisself, without no
lovin’ friend to drop a tear above his cold
remains. Howsumever, I didn’t tell

stood up agin the mount’ in side fer ages. | t

“Now tell us what you did,” said Be) are
sie, seeing the mountaineer hesitate be
fore going on with the story. Co

“Wal, I sez, ‘Take heart, Willie. TM «yy
see what I kin do.’

“And I begins to saw away upon tht
bark bands on my wrists.”

“Don’t show us the scars, nor tel] how
much you suffered while you were doill
that,” Grace said, covering up her ey@
and shuddering. di

“Wal, ’tis enough to say ’twas a tout
job, but I wasn’t quite ready to
roasted, and Willie had a mother waitil
for him back beyond the perreries, So}
parsevered till the bands give way, all
when my hands was free, I didn’t 10
no time in getsin, out my knife, whil
the Injins had forgot to rob me of, all
ee off the balance o’ my fette
Then I walked over to Willie and 8) W
him free. P

“And now comes the most techin’ pa
o’ the hull story. The boy dropped up?
his knees, and sich a sublime outpouril
o’ pure thankfulness I never heat!
’Twas cone to hist one right up im® :
glory. But I was obliged to say:

““*Come, Willie, ye kin finish up
praisin’ when we git safe under old Piké
pertectin’ ribs; tain’t best to stop h@
eny longer.’

“So we _ hitched up the mules
hosses, and started on our way.”

“You’ve skipped the best part; how ¥
fixed the rascals before you left them |
Dick said, with boyish anticipation of
area a

“I don’t know about puttin’ that) % th
every time,” returned Deerskin Bi):
reflectively. “ ’Taint best to indulg@) “a
killin’ sperit when ther’s a way 0’ g@
tin’ off without it. ’Tis enough to sajy
hed a_good revolver and they new
knowed what hurt "em. Wal, as I Wy
goin’ to say, we started on our way, #) “Sar
reached the mines in safety.” a

“ Now please tell cousin whether Wil |
ever found his father,” Bessie said, d
ing a long breath of relief as Bill finis™ |
his story. -

gennenee about the queerest, jol-
liest-looking man it had ever been my
good fortune to behold. A glance showed
me that he was the famous Rocky Moun-
taineer, whose praises had been rung into
my ears ever since my arrival at the
beautiful city which guarded the entrance
to the eternal hills,

“Cousin,” Bessie said, with charming
dignity, “allow meto introduce to you
our particular friend, Deerskin Bill.” .

Repressing a smile at the deferential
manner with which Bessie uttered the
suggestive title, I advanced for the pur-
pose of paying my respects to the distin-
guished mountaineer. JDofling his fur
cap with awkward courtesy Deerskin

“No; he found out from some old min& i‘
thet his father died 0’ camp fever sho) |
after writin’ home the first time. 4
dropped off suddent like, end no ®&
knowed wher to derrect a letter to”
family. Willie went back to his mo den
with the first wagin-train thet cros)};0l
the plains fer home.”

“Did you ever hear anything more ¢
him?” I asked, having felt a deep intel, |
in the story of the boy’s devoted pilg!”> y
ease anor of his ee: father. 4 q

“Yes; he was out this way two Yous." ap
ago with a lot of Gee et - He & chide On the
in a palace-car over the Kansas Pad Wing the ha

A fine contrast to the way the’ 8y deni

North

Willie my fears (I hed found out his
name was William, end naturally
shortened it down into the pet name),
but chirruped up his courage till we
reached Lone Gulch, wher the Injins
came upon us with less warhin’ then I hev
given you in tellin’ of it.

“T’d_ got kinder careless like from
makin’ so many trips end bein’ un-
molested, end when the red demons
swarmed neon us like a pack o’ blood-
thirsty wolves, I was taken by surprise,
end I hedn’t time to pint my_ shootin’-
iron afore they hed us in ther.clutches.

“Aside from the thought he naturally
hes about leapin’ off into eternity so sud-
dint like, it makes a man feel sort o’

because that sorter thing was good for
the whole dog; and, second, because the
thing would get about even when Potts’
head would reach around and bite a flea
off my hind legs or snap at a fly.

“Well, things went along smooth
enough fora while, until one day that
dog began to get into the habit of run-
ning around after his tail. He was the
foolishest dog about that I ever see.
Used to chase his tail round and round
until he’d get so giddy he couldn't bark,
And you know was skeered lest it
might hurt the dog’s health, and as Potts
didn’t seem to be willing to keep his end
from eo in pursuit of my end, I

 

  
 
  
   
   
 
   
 
  

Railroad.
traveled the fust time, Willie told

 

made up my mind to chop the dog’s tail ‘ . ; ,
off, sorte make him fear and nl Bill responded = : sheepish to be tied hand end foot straight | He is now a perfessor in the same } “a With ae
So last Saturday I caused the dog to Sarvice, ma’am. I hope’s the snow- | yy agin a tree without the power to move | his father tracked afore him, but he # Clog 8Bcin a
back up agin a log, and then I suddenly | Storm up in the mountains hes not dis-| a’muscle, when he’s been used toroamin’ | lost his innercent-lookin’ face end heaY jsp d witho’’
dropped the ax on his tail, pretty close |Commoded ye in pertic’lar wise. Do ye! to the very pinnacle o’ God’s mountane:- | ly blue eyes, not yit.’ 4 ding fo
up, and the next minute he was booming | ™ind the pecooliar glistenin’ whiteness | on5 ynivarse, : caenenigsaetiaieih atten: iiokena 18kq] hew} f.
around the yard, howling like shoataload thet lays down around old Bald? Ef| “the Injins dressed themselves in red WHY WE HAVE. TWo EYES Welmeg i
of wild cats. Just then Potts came up, ther hain’t fell five toot 0’ snow up ther | shirts—of ‘which my wagon held a good % biigpdder ‘if

and he let on to be mad because I’d eut| Since yisterday morn I’ll never shoot a ssoply" ane piled the brushwood round ward » + W

The advantages of two eyes consist ' Sa
the fact that we look at objects f#0?y lo
slightly different point of view with @ gan; "> Comin,
It is thus that we obtain our ide@@e'y, &
perspective and solidity, For inst@jy. 0
we see both sides of a flat object “#,
edgeways to us, if we keep both %
open, but we only see one side if we”,
one eye. Spectroscopic pictures iy,
formed on this principle by the joie N
of two.photographs of the same 07% 2
taken from slightly different positl®
This gives the appearance of solidi®®,
the flat picture when looked at tbhr®
the lenses. ;
———_- 0

Sermat story by William Pen#?
Chipman, will begin in No. 111.»

mountain sheep agin.”

We turned our eyes toward the Snowy
Range, stretching white and grand above
the misty blue enshrouding the lower
hills. The soft September sunshine sifted
through the clear, thin air about us sug-
gesting scarcely a hint of the eternal
winter reigning just above, In the dis-
tance Pike's Peak, the highest summit of
the Rocky Mountuins, touched the sky
in lonely grandeur.

“TI saw the centennial sunrise up ther
on Pike’s Peak last New Year’s morn,
end 'twas wuth rememberin’ for the next
hundred years to come. I was huntin’ a
black-tailed deer up ther, but when the
sun riz I forgot the deer, end bless me
ef I've remembered him to this day.”

off that tail. One word brought on
another, and pretty soon Potts sicked
that. dog on me—my own half, too, mind
you—and the dog bit me in the leg, bit a
piece out. See that; look at that leg!
About half a pound gone; eat up by that

us till we stood Cay desp in fagots.

“Willie, my boy,’ sez I, ‘’tis all over
with us. Ther ain’t no chances left for
us.’ ”

“Tellus how Willie looked,” said Bes-
sie, breathless with suspense.

“Willie? Wal, ef ever the sperrit of a
hero looked out 0’ two heavenly blue
eyes, ’twas out o’ his’n at thet minute.
Straight end slim, end bootiful he stood

in the fir-tree, wher they bound him
acin’ me, lookin’ up beyend the hills,
as if expectin’ fortitoode to fall down on
him from the skies.

“ “Ef I hed only found out what hed be-
come o’ father,’ Willie said, ‘end ef it
meen for mother watchin’ and weep-
Th” natin” ”

then > Alive

og.

Now what I want to see you about,
judge, is this: Can’t I recover damages
or assault and battery from Potts? What
I chopped off belonged to me, recollect.
I owned an individual half of that setter
up, from the tip of his tail clean up to
is third rib, andI hada right to cut
away as much of it as I’d a mind to;
while Potts, being sole owner of the dog’s
head, is responsible when he bites any-

 

 

 

 
(ee ree

ig in the
ce, wh0
rer.
n’t break
led Bill,
er, ib wa
> savage
jrewately
unicatiD
ey begal
1d dane
twiste
last they
dead #
. Whe
I sez #

loost

but they
s courage
1 him #
ut whel
ere wil
s behalf
n, Willit

a bit.

alk

n.
thet hes
er ages.
said Bee
‘itate be
rl

illie,
upon tht

tell ho#
rere doith
her ey@

is a tou i
dy to @
er wait
es, om
way, @
idn’t 10
fe, whith
ie of, ab
'y fet tel
> and

chin’ pat
ped upe
yutpourl
er heat
itup Ww

y:

sh up st
old Pike
stop h

nules ai!

. how yo
eft them
ation 0

n’ that ‘I
skin BY
indulgé
ay o' a
h tos
new

hey ' ff

as
way, #

=>

 

A VOYAGE ON THE SNOW.

BY WILL LISENBEE,

-+

  
 

the south,
murmur through
the black and withered stems of the
Tosin weeds. Although it was early
MJanuary the air was as mild as that
of September. A swarm of gnats danced
the sunny air; a yellow-breasted lark
Sang } i
hoe down in the withered grass a flock of
Town Sparrows twittered with incessant
glee,
. Pears to me that they don’t have any
Winter here in Kansas,” said Mrs. Dyke-

coming from

with a subdued

wan, Standing inthe door of the little
ox shanty and gazing out across the
fairies, “I never saw it like this up in
Michigan.”

Wi Only hope it will remain warm the
mers mother,” said Bob, a stout youth
€venteen,
Sbading a
ane Shanty, “But they say that there
ea awful sudden changes here, and you
Qt tell what. hour a blizzard
Come,”
an Mercy on us! I hope there won't be
the bing of the kind this winter,” cried
Woman, a look of alarm passing over
and pee. “But we orter be ready for it
Yoo" plenty of wood if it does come.
and d better take the wagon and team
row 80 to the ridge after a load to-mor-
som, and then we must go to town for
© provisions on the next day.’
smal} “Tidge” referred to was a chain of
mile timbered hills, lying some
taj S_to the west, where the family ob-
oe the fuel they used. This land had
+ Yeen se . rj i ( being
Suitable pales owing to it not being
Teon was used by
went? Settlers who
«y ID are ite
Ought to have
day or a load to-
“but I replied Bob,
Shed § had to fix the
'}y id he horses.
t f 0-morrow,
acts 1, and that will
father

o
[=]

Dykeman fam-
no moved from
h lgan three
set CS before, and
C ht On a prairie
Rhee in western
eeuras' In order to
of 4° the advantage
Dyk © range, Mr.
ed, jan had select-
a sett 4im as far from
Sible &ment as pos-
mi} Baud it was ten
Man from the Dyke-
Neay Cabin to “the
TS house.

The
ily
M pa

 

 

% MELLOW haze hung over the great |
,, brown prairie and a gentle breeze |
stole

from the top of a wild indigo weed, |

|

|he found that they had disappeared.
| Glancing hurriedly across the prairie, he
saw them full a half mile away, gallop-
ing southward before the storm.
| “I must follow them—it won’t do to let
| them remain out in this storm,” he mur-
mured, starting in pursuit of the animals
at a brisk run. But before he had gene
a quarter of a mile, he saw it was use-
less for him to try to overtake the stam-
peded horses. Already they had vanished
from sight in the blinding sheets of snow
and sleet that were sweeping across the
prairie, and Bob knew
the chase would imperil his own life.
Every moment the storm increased in
its fury; the icy wind roared across the
prairie like the rushing of a great river,
and the snow fell in blinding clouds.
Relinquishing all hope of overtaking
the retreating animals, Bob turned about
and ran in the direction of home. Every
moment now the air was growing colder,

| and the fury of the wind was increasing

who was busily engaged in|
up dirt and throwing it up around |

may |

ten |

cultivation, and the timber!

at every breath. It took him but a few
minutes to reach the house, but before he
could do so, he was chilled to the very
bone.

“It’s a blizzard, mother!” he cried, as
he burst into the cabin. “The horses
have been stampeded by the storm and
are gone!”

“Heaven help us!” said the poor woman,
inalarm. “What will become of us now?”

“It’s too bad,” answered Bob, his teeth
chattering with cold. “We are ina bad
fix. But maybe the storm won’t last
long,” he added, trying to speak more
cheerfully.

Mrs. Dykeman shook her head.

“It may last a week,” she said gloomily,
‘and we have but a little fuel, and
hardly any provisions in the house. Our
horses are gone—they will die in this
storm—oh, what will become of us all?”
and the poor woman burst into tears.

“Don’t cry, mother,” said Bessie, sooth-
ingly, putting her arms about her parent’s

.*De
her Will galed of tone Som”
said, and tira the Direnteand
ill finis! ang s ildren. Bob
ae Ssie nit aint,
old mind rteen anaes d ne
ver sholy P°ctively sWelve,
time. of lous” Weeks prev-
i te yi Our: ‘o the time of
-tter tO nt may rory, Mr. Dyke- ~
oD cost tently a 0 sud- GLANCING BACKWARD HE SAW A
Ig 4) “4led back to
g moni Matte 1ome on an important business | neck. x ne as get along somehow—
er intel "t Sy ioaae eee er ne | aber arin ser will,” answered Bob,
ed pilg® Ug, Vas about three o'clock in the after- | trying to speak in a cheerful tone. “May
Bere veh ding aeen Bob finished throwing up the | be the sprkin ee hte bias a a
He col ead ae the shanty. He deposited his | Or tw vane a a 4 Sta in
ins SMMMMEMNG House Sica a: cold breath ot |troste snoway.” Bat brepite of bine
eh > house when a col« : f| ment, ¢ ay. 7 ‘ -
the wale the Suddenly came with a rush from |couraging words, Bob felt that their
ie tole Brag, wth, and swept through the dead | situation was a grave one. :
Kt he all oSlaneine a sharp, hissing sound. ral He set . = ‘ tele tg ugh
: avy Ud \ 8 Overhead, he saw that a black | every stick of fuel ¢ pl é anc
end he Dreag; ith an ashy rim was rapidly | piled it in oneend of the room. he roar-
‘ “Whos Over the sky. ' |ing of the wind outside told with what
_ ain! how cold itis getting!” he|fury the storm was raging, and through
EVES: pong eds as the icy breath struck him. | every crack, no matter how small, the
arg n if we ain’t going to have a|snow sifted in and soon covered the floor.
; consist sy, Saku The air in the room grew colder and
ects fart gicth » = Alive, what a storm!” said his|colder. Though Bob kept the little stove
y with a Seals » Coming to the door at that in-|in the corner red hot, it only gave out
ur idea, fi) me glancing at the threatening | a small circle of heat, which seemed to
or inst be the hter go down the draw and look | grow narrower with every breath of the
object off Bor” the orses, Bob. They orter be got} icy wind. 4
» both ay wig, ° Shed, for it looks as if it was| Night soon came down, and still the
e if we as 8t A} ’ Snow.” | storm raged, sending the small particles
ictures ig battin "ght, mother,” answered Bob, | of sleet and snow hissing through the
the jo@ying® Of at a run toward a smali|cracks into the cheerless shanty. The
same obi mee. 4 few hundred yards from the] family slept but little, so intense was the
t posite gy he wi cold, and the fire was kept up in the lit-
solid itgiy & yw, 24, which had increased to a| tle stove all through the night.
at th! Ine Siow’ Soon laden with fine particles} Morning dawned at last, gray and deso-
‘dia. “Nd sleet that cut like flying | late, with clouds of snow sweeping across
= ibrgltin ‘ ; : the prairie. There was a prospect now
Pendlé Whe led s his Cap down over his ears, Bob |that the storm would last man _ days,
Cyp Te th Q the direction of the ravine|and as Mrs. Dykeman realized this her
- the sh 10rses had been turned out ot} heart sunk within her.

Ort grass that was still green

 

Huddled together about the stove in

GOOD NEws.

|in places; but on arriving at the place, |
}do nothing but wait and hope for the|

|
|
|
|
|
|
|

that to continue |

 

1757

 

the dreary shanty, the little family could

storm to subside. The day passed, night
closed in, and still the storm raged, and
the hissing sleet and snow fell in vapor-
like clouds. All night the blizzard con-
tinued, but as morning dawned, the snow
ceased to fall, save where here and there
a few stray particles descended from the
pallid clouds that overspread all the sky.

Looking forth from their dreary shanty,
the little family saw the wide stretches
of distant prairie covered deep with snow,
its smooth glassy surface gleaming in
the cold light of the winter day. £

the wind was still blowing a gale.

Five days went by and still no gleam of |

sunlight came from the dull, gray sky.
Nearly every stick of fuel about the
place had been used to fight the fierce

| cold, and there was no hope of obtaining

more when this was gone.

“Heaven help us,” moaned Mrs. Dyke-
man, wringing her hands in despair;
“there is no hope for us now! Our fuel
nearly gone faan
in the house to last another day !”

Bessie, shivering with the cold, crept

| to her mother’s side, and laying her head

upon her shoulder, sobbed aloud.
“Mother,” said Bob, with sudden

energy, “I am going to the settlement

for help. It is useless to wait longer. It

may be a week before the weather moder-

 

    
 

MASS OF DARK FORMS IN SWIFT PURSUIT.

“No—no——” she answered, “vou must
not try to do that. No one could cross
that plain and live. If we must die, let
us all die together !”

“But I can’t sit here idle while we all
are freezing, mother,” answered Bob.
“Something has got to be done, and I am
the only one to do it.”

“If you go, then let us all go,” she an-
swered rousing up; “maybe if we wrap
ourselves up well we can reach the settle-
ment—anyhow it won’t be any worse
than staying here.” And she began to
take the blankets from the beds,

“Hold on, mother,” cried Bob. “That
will never do. You and Bessie would
never be able to cross that ten miles of
prairie. The surface of the snow is as
smooth and hard as glass, and it would
be useless for you to attempt to cross it
on foot.”

“What then are we to do?” asked the
mother in despair.

Bob did not answer, and for some time
he seemed absorbed in thought. Then,
as a sudden light broke over his counte-
nance, he cried:

“T’ll tell you what I’ll do, mother—I’ll
build an ice-boat that will carry us all
to the settlement! You know I used to
sail one on the lake in Michigan, and
know just how they are made.”

“But there is no lake to cross, my son,
and ——”

“No, there isn’t,” broke in Bob, “but

But the |
| weather seemed to grow more arctic, and

ouly enough provisions |

just as good, and I know the ice-boat
will skim over it like a bird!”

“God grant that you are right, my son,”
said the mother fervently, “but if your
plan should fail we would all be lost.”

“But it won’t fail, mother—I know it
won't,” replied Bob, firmly. And he at
once set to work to carry his plan into
execution.

The question now was where was he
to find material for the ice-boat He went
out to the hay sheds that had been built
|for the horses, but there was nothing
there except a few short boards and some
slender poles. These would be of little
service, but agthering all the boards he
{could find about the place, he carried
them into the house. Healmost despaired
as he looked for material to complete the
structure.

Suddenly a thought
would use the planks in the floor of the
shanty. Here was the very thing! They
were of hard pine, sixteen feet long by
six inches in width.

Crossing to the far side of the room, he
quickly pried up four of the planks, and
bringing them up near the stove, he be-
gan to work rapidly with hammer and
saw. So bitterly cold was it in the room,
| that he was compelled to stop work every

few minutes to warm his hands over the
| Stove. As soon as he had completed the
frame of the structure, he built a small
platform near the rear end. Over this
| ne constructed a stout frame, which he

covered with blank-
ets, forming a small
compartment in
which the voyagers
were to ride on their

struck him—he

 
  
  
  
   
 
 
  
   
  
 
   
 

journey across the
rairie to death or
ife.

Having completed
this, he half filled it
with hay. He next
rigged the little
schooner with a stout
mast and cross
beams, to which he
attached a large can-
vas wagon cover for
a sail.

lt was late in the
evening when every-
thing was completed
ready for the jour-
ney. The next thing
to be done now was
to get the boat out
of the house. It was
too large to pass
through the door,
but Bob had antici-
pated this, and tak-
ing an ax, he quickly
knocked a couple of
planks from the side
of the shanty near
the entrance, thus widening the opening
to the required size.

Assisted by his mother and Bessie, he
then drew the little craft to the outside.
It slid smoothly on the glassy surface of
the snow as it was drawn forward into
position,

“Now, mother,” said the son, “bring
what provisions you have, and all the
blankets, and you and Bessie get into
the cabin. I’ll stay out to launch the
boat into the wind.”

A few moments later Mrs. Dykeman
and Bessie were snugly stored away
among the blankets in the “cabin.” Then

Bob shook out the sail and pushed the
craft forward to catch the wind, which
was still blowing a gale.

There was a sound of the flapping sail
as the wind struck it; then a sudden
tightening of ropes, a quick sliding
sound, and the little craft was moving
swiftly across the prairie.

Jumping quickly aboard, Bob grabbed
the rudder and held it before the wind.
It was only the realization of the des-
perate situation in which they would be
placed in case of an accident that pre-
vented Bob from feeling a joyous exhilara-
tion as the boat flew swiftly over the
frozen sea.

As soon as it was fairly on its way,
he crept beneath the blankets into the
little cabin, still holding the rudder and
guiding the boat, while he a a sharp
watch ahead for snow drifts through the
opening he had left in front of the com-
partment. y :

He found that it required all his skill
and attention to manage the strange
craft, and several times he narrowly es-
caped an upset in one of the many snow
banks that lay in his way.

They were now speeding across the
great open plain—a dead waste of glitter-
ing snow with not an object to break
the monotony, save here and there a
gaunt, hungry wolf that stole like a
shadow across the waste of snow.

It was impossible for Bob to tell just
how fast they were traveling, but he was
confident that it was faster than he had
ever gone before,

 

this level prairie, covered with sleet, is

 

 

So _ absorbed had they all been in the
building and starting of the boat that

 
SRO EO eT RR chat Trey . . im
SEA NONT I RISE IEEE SEE he YA ee pK

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SRG tr ER ST ee NR ET ge ee :
ARPES RAPER Ry high eR Bese RTO RRR EO aS

Teeew

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SS
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1758

Goonp

NEW S.

 

they had not noticed the rapid flight of
time, but now, to the surprise of Bob
and his mother, they saw that night was
fast closing in. This gave a new peril
to their situation, for there would be no
moon, and the chances of running into
some drift and wrecking the craft would
be greatly increased.

Darkness came down rapidly, and Bob
soon fvuund it difficult to keep the boat
clear of the snow banks that now and
then appeared in their path. But soon’ a
new peril. was added to their already
dangerous situation. The youth could
plainly hear the howl of wolves behind
them, and knew that they were followed
by those half-famished animals. He did
not mention the matter to his mother
and Bessie, knowing how they would be
frightened if he should.

But as the minutes. passed by and the
darkness deepened, the. sound of in-
creased numbers of the wolves could be
heard, and so close behind were they now
that both Mrs. Dykeman and Bessie
recognized the cries and were filled with
terror.

“T don’t think they will dare attack
us,” said Bob, reassuringly; “and we
ought to be near the settlement by this
time.” But even as he spoke, he felt that
there was greater danger than he cared
to admit.

He knew enough of the nature of the
wolves, driven to desperation by hunger,
to realize their peril, but he preferred to
keep his mother and Bessie ignorant as
long as possible.

The wolves were increasing in number
every moment, and, glancing backward
for a moment, he saw a mass of dark
forms coming inswift pursuit. His heart
sank within him, as the gaunt, famished
pack drew closer and closer, yet he re-
mained firmly at his post and let no word
of fear escape his lips.

Suddenly a great bank of snow loomed
through the darkness just ahead. They
were almost upon it before Bob saw it,
then with a quick movement he sought
to steer clear of the obstacle, but too
late! The next moment, there was a
shock, followed by a crashing of timber.
Then the three voyagers were pitched for-
ward and fell half stunned on the smooth
bank of crusted snow, while the little
craft that had carried them across the
snowy waste, lay a hopeless wreck at
their side.

A moan of terror and despair fell from
Mrs. Dykeman’s lips. as she realized the
awful calamity that had overtaken them.
Bessie rose from the bank of snow and
clung to her mother’s side, weeping and
trembling with fear.

Snatching a stick from the wreck, Bob
stood ready to defend them against the
wolves which he knew to be close at
hand. But at that momenf a most aston-
ishing thing happened. <A door suddenly
opened in the bank of snow, letting a
flood of bright light stream out into the
darkness. Then the burly form of a man
appeared in the opening, and a cheery
voice exclaimed :

“Run plumb inter my dug-out, by gosh!
Thought it was an’ earthquake! Come
right in an’ meck yerselves at home,
whoever ye be, fer it’s mighty cold
weather fer ladies ter be out.”

“Thank God! we are saved!” gasped
the astonished Mrs. Dykeman, totterin
in at the door, followed by Bessie anc
Bob. They found themselves in asmal]
but comfortable room, In. one corner a
cheery fire was burning in a large stove,
from which rose the odor of hot coffee
and frying bacon.

“Jist seat. yerselves an’ feel perfectly at
home,” said Jim Skinner—for such was
the prop ietor of. the dug-out’s name—
“an’ I’ll soon have a bite uy supper fer
ye.” And with this he began to arrange
some tin plates upon a large box that
served as a table.

“T. orter see ter yer hosses,” he said
suddenly, “Did they run off with yer
sleigh?” ,

Great was his surprise when he learned
how the Jonsney across the prairie had
been made, and he looked upon Bob as a
wonderful genius;

“T reckcn I’ll git you toshow me how
it’s done some time,” he said to the lad,
“but I don’t want toever haf ter meck
such a journey as ye’ve made ter night.”

The next morning the snow commenced
to fall again, and it continued for two
days. It was two weeks before the little
family could leave the kind shelter of the
settler’s dug-out. Then they were driven
to the nearest town in Jim Skinner’s
wagon, where they remained till Mr.
Dykeman’s return from the East, a week
later.

———_~ > 0 -e
BURNING COPPER AND TIN FOIL.
Take a crystal or two of the nitrate of

copper and bruise them; then moisten
them with water and roll them up quickly
in. a) piece of tin foil; and in half a
minute or little more the tin foil will he-
gin to smoke and soon after take fire and
explode, ;

 

YAS FEW years ago I was one of a
YEN. party of half a dozen tourists who

5 had got off the cars at Denver to
ow spend a day or so looking round
the famous mines whose deep shafts have

swallowed up so many fortunes and so|

many lives, repaying the former with in- | 2
» Tepay |or else got smashed up falling down the

terest, but demanding unceasing toll of
the latter in exchange for the silver
treasures that they yield up.

Our guide was a typical miner of the
old style, a sort of remnant of the roar-
ing times of 49, when men had only just
begun to suspect that these rugged hills
and rocky valleys contained the millions
that have been taken out of them since
then. He knew everything about a mine,
from the lowest gallery to the top of the
engine-house shaft, and he was as full of
mine lore as the Comstock is of paying
ore.

When our day’s sight-seeing was over,
two or three of us who wanted to get the
many fragments of anecdote dropped by
our guide during the day spun into some-
thing like a connected yarn, coaxed the
old man away into the smoking-room of
a small hotel, and informed him that
whisky and cigars were duty-free as long
as he could contrive to stick to the truth
and make it interesting to us. To which
he solemnly replied:

“Gents, as far as square-toed true ex-
periences of these mines goes, it’s only
the weakness of human natur’ as would
stop me reelin’ ’em off as long as the
tangle-foot held out; but I think, as it’s
gettin’ a bit late, and as you’ve got to be
on board early in the mornin’, [ can fix
you up with one that’ll give you some-
thing to dream about when you get to
sleep. It’s as true as gospel, too, so far
as my knowledge of the matter goes.

“About five years ago we had a minder
up yonder, on the Belcher, who was as
curious acuss as you'd meet within a
day’s prospectin’. ‘Though he was gettin’
on in years, he was as smart and keen
and plucky as any man on the mines, but
he was superstitious from his boots to his
hair, and that’s what let him out at last,
poor old chap.

“Old Mark was sound on everything
but spooks, but about them he was a hope-
less crank. He believed that his shaft
was haunted, and that there could be
ghosts working in engines just the same
as around corpses and graveyards and old
houses. I don’t make much of them
things myself, never having been a very
heavy drinker, but Olu Mark went his
plie on them.

“One day I’d stopped by his engine-
house to swap lies with him fora spell,
when all of a sudden he held up his hand,
and said to me, in a scared sort of whis-

er:

: “‘Sam, d’ye hear that?’

“*Hear what?’ says I, going to the mouth
of the shaft and peering down.

“«That holler, groanin’, wailin’ sorter
noise among the engines; that sound
means death to some one down the mine
at this moment.’ As Mark said this,
I saw his face grow white all in an in-
stant, and his voice was just nowhere.
He'd hardly got the words out of his
mouth, when they rang up from the two
thousand feet level to hoist the cage.
Mark gripped the lever, and sent the great
reel spinning round, keeping his eye
fixed on the indicator all the while, and
not making a sound.

“The hand pointed to the top level,
when I heard plain enough this time,
a long, wailing scream. come out of the
machinery, just as though some one was
being crushed upin it. Mark heard it
too, and I saw his hand slip from the
brake-lever for an instant... The cage
shot up like lightning, and, before he
could get the brake on again, jammed
bang into the sheaves. The wire cable
tautened under the strain for a moment,
and then snapped like thread. The cage
dropped back to the shaft’s mouth, and
as it fell, three of the chaps leaped out
clear on to the timbers and saved them-
selves, the other two slipped on the slimy
edge, and the dull thump, thump of their
bodies, as they knocked from side to side
of the shaft going down, stopped in my
ears for a week after!

“That was Mark’s last turn at that
engine for many along day. When an
engineer lets his cage touch the sheaves
he doesn’t need to be toldtogo. He gets,
without pay or notice; and not so long
ago he thought himself lucky to get clear
without any lead in his body. He was
out of work for some weeks after that,
living mostly on charity.

“Sometimes when he’d get hold of you
and begin pitching his queer fancies the
levelest headed man’d turn a bit queer
over them, he seemed to believe them all
so earnestly. He used to tell the boys as
how engines is really living things, and
get sick and low, and merry and strong,
and wants feeding and physicking just

 

like other animals. And then he used
to tell us about what he called the mys-
teries of the low levels down yonder in
the dark, and how he’d seen doomed
miners followed about the galleries by
shadows which wasn’t cast by any mor-
tal light, and pointed at by the flames
of their own lamps, until they got blasted
into bits with a charge going off wrong,
or were caved in and starved to death,

shaft like he had sent those poor fellows
the day he went off his head.

“After a bit, people got to see that he
was quite harmless, and some one gave
him a job down below, and then he got
worse and worse. ’Most every day when
he came up from his shift he’d have some
new horror to tell about what he had seen
down in the levels.

“A)l this time Old Mark was getting
more and more down in the mouth. You
see, he’d been the best engineer on the
mine, and he’d lost hisreputation. That
worked on his mind, and made him so
miserable, that a Chinee might have
pitied him.

“One night when he was off-shift. he
turned into the South Consolidated engine-
house, and sat, as he was very fond of
doing, watching the machinery. All of
a sudden, he caught the engineer by the
arm, and said, ‘‘’om, I hear the denen:
moan in the wheels. Keep your ears
open, something’s going to happen soon.’

“The engineer was just going to order
him out of the machine-house, when the
signal for the quick hoist sent him to the

ever, a a moment later the big wheel |
lever, and a moment later the big wheel

was flying round, and the steel rope was
flashing over it like a streak of lightning.
Presently a puff of smoke drifted up the
throat of the shaft, and then came a
shower of sparks. The mine was on fire.

“As the cage came clashing up to the
landing-stage a crowd of half-naked men,
blistered and choking, staggered off and
reeled into the dressing-rooms. The cage
was hardly empty before the signal. to
lower rang out, and it plunged back. into
the depths as though it had been dropped.
Before it reached the bottom a big cloud
of smoke rolled up the shaft, and then
came a sheet of flame that licked round
the dry timbers and set them blazing like
so much match-wood.

“Now came the signal to hoist again,
and remember that the engineer hadn’t
only to bring the cage to the top. He
bad to stop it being smashed against the
sheaves the same as ‘Mark smashed it the
day he went wrong. Well, just as that
signal rang, a lump of timber fell and
knocked ‘Tom, the engineer, senseless.

“A dozen of us jumped for the lever, but
Old Mark was there first, and as he
gripped it, he straightened up and looked
a good two inches ta)ler for the moment.
A sort of instinct made us fall back, and
then another rush of fame sent us stag-
gering out of the engine-house.

“For a good two minutes Old Mark
stood there in the flame and smoke wait-
ing for the cage to come ee That hand
of his on the hot lever held a dozen men’s
lives in its grasp, and there was no trem-
bling about it now. Over that shaft
mouth, now belching out fire and smoke
in clouds, he stood like a graven image,
watching for the cage to come up,

“At last it came rattling up to the sur-
face, and as it touched the level Mark
jammed the lever hard down and stopped
her true toan inch. Then witha cheer
we jumped in and began dragging the
fainting men out of the burning engina-
house. We had got twelve men out alive,
though badly burnt, and then with a
crash and a roar of flame and smoke the
whole shebang caved in and buried poor
Old Mark and two others under a couple
of tons of blazing timbers.

“Three days afterward we dug them
out, and there was the old man’s charred
body lying by the engine, with the two
hands still gripping the lever.

“The next day three thousand. men
walked bare-headed after Mark Haverly's
coffin, and nary man cussed loud for a
good week after.

“Ah, well, gentlemen,” said our guide,
as he tossed the last thimbleful down,
“Old Mark was a curious sort 0’ cuss
with his specters and engine-ghosts, but
there was good leather in the man for all
that.”

—_—__ + 0

TESTING DIAMONDS.

No expert can always tell a genuine
diamond at’a mere glance, as. some_peo-
ple suppose. The method employed for
determining the genuineness of diamonds
at. the Brazilian mines. is to rub them
with black mastic, which will adhere if
the gem is real. The best of all tests,
though, is that of refraction.
other crystals, the diamond has not a
double refracting power, which means
that objects looked at through it do not
appear as if multiplied by two. [f you
have a diamond of which you are doubt-
ful, look at a pin through it. If you see
two pins, the stone is false.

 

Unlike all.

 

QUANTRELL’S RAID.

a

(Continued from page 1752.)

Centar —niaioan

stranger. Fortunately, almost miract
lously, neither bullet had taken effect
except, as I afterward saw, tocut slight
one leg of the victim’s pantaloons.
One of our guard—David Porter, whos
name I desire to record—peremptori
commanded the desperado to stop firing,
and to molest none in this party, as th
were promised protection by Quantrell.”
“I shan’t. obey you!” was the reply
“and I will shoot Quantrell himself!” ©
Porter answered, “I am placed here #

protect these prisoners, and I will do ith} _

And he added, presenting his revolve
“If you shoot a man of them I will k
you!” '

All this, which occupied but a minw
of time, occurred close behind one of th
old circular earthworks of 1855, built f
the defense of the town, and now nea
level with the ground, being scarce
more than a ring of raised earth with
depression in the center.

The guard now ordered us into this,

place to remain; but Quantrell, who
we espijed in front of the City Hotel, bé
tween us and the river, was sent for, am@j,
speedily rode up. 4

He said to us briefly, “One man—Sto:
—was kind to me years ago wheu I li¥
here, and I have promised to protect h
and his family and house. All of you
over to the City Hotel, and go into
and stay in it, and you will be safe. B
don’t attempt to go into the street.”

These few words brought us relief hamega
to describe. We lost no time in follow#a
ing the direction given us, and we
made welcome by the landlord to t&
shelter and protection of his house ¢
refuge, where a number of fugitives wel
already congregated. An incident he
oecurred. When the flames burst fro
the windows of the Eldridge House, 4
the block of buildings of which it for
apart, an imperative duty seemed —
present itself to my mind. We had be
told that Joseph Eldridge, before meé
tioned, was lying wounded in the ceilé
of the house. Now that the building we
on fire, an effort must be made to s@
him. Mr. F.C. Horton and I agreed
go over, if we could obtain a guard,
search for and bring him away.
stated the fact to one of our escort, nam
Ladd, who was sporting a captain’s co@m
belonging to Captain Banks, Prov@
Marshal of the State, and a prisoner wil
us; and Ladd seemed not altogether W
moved by our representations. LS
Stone, wife of the landlord, also besoug?
an effort for a babe in one of the chal
bers; to which Ladd assented, till #
thoughtlessly added, “It is a black babé
when he exclaimed, brutally, “Oh, it
a black baby! then let it burn.” 4

But he consented to aid us in find
Eldridge, and we proceeded under #
yrotection toward the burning buildi
Havin x arrived near it, however, a glavyg,
showed us the utter impossibility of
fecting our object. The flames had 4
ready made such progress as to ren@
any attempt to approach the house an #
of madness, and we sadly turned ba@
and regained the protection of the O
Hote). I was glad to learn, later in ¥
day, that ‘Eldridge had. in some way
caped from the building, and lived to%
ceive attentions from his friends—wh
however, were insufficient to presé
his life.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
——_____.¢—9—-@——————_—

AT VERY CLOSE QUARTERS.

The chief danger in African or Asif
hunting of large game is to the nal
assistants... Now and then one of t@
people performs an act of wonderful 2
ism. 4
One Arab, El Mokhtar by name, foll?
ing a panther, saw him entering a @
just before nightfall. The Arab wat@
a while at the entrance to the cave, *
then out of pure bravado, determined,
follow the beast into his lair. Ta®
off his bournois, or large cloak.
wrapped it tightly round his left ®
Then he seized his large hunting knil®
his left hand, and, crouching dow?;
tered the cave. 4

He had not crept far, when the pan
snarling loudly, leaped upon him. —
had just time to present his left am
the beast, which fastened its teeth
it. At the same time El Mokhtar’ ®
the panther a teriffic lunge in the )*
with his knife. It. was a death-s¥y
but the panther still clung despera
the arm. So much the hetter; its %
could not penetrate the thick folds 0%
bournois, and its tight grip enable
Mokhtar to drag his victim out int@,
open air, where it now stretched ™
and expired, i

 
   

> FS HORT IALKS
a oR BOYS

r, whosé

mptorilf 3
> firing BY ARTHUR SEWALL,
ras the aes

ntrell. wae G., Port Townsend, Wash., writes: “T am
ne reply ary Ing in a telegraph office with a small sal-
self!” elact Would like to become a photographer or
here. to Advicg 22 Would you please give me some
ll do it! Y

Sur selections are not of the best.

 

revolveliin
will ki flegraph y is on a par with photography
; Ithe electricity. Not many years ago|
a minut but occupations were rated first-class, |
ne of the Te] iM recent years they have gone back.
built £0 *staphy is given up mostly to the
w near role Sex, and as they can afford to
scarcelf ane for less money than a man, and are
h with a lable, and can do the work just as well,
al eturally follows that they have the
into thik i hotography has been simplified
ll, whol a that almost anybody can take a
Hotel, Deion

 

 
  
  
  
  
 
 

nar Ph nearly as good as a profes-
t for, all@arg }: In some cases amateur pictures
asi) tter than professional. This is
an—Stoné mat explained for the reason that
eu I lived he Ze can afford to give more time to
‘otect hil mat hishing of a picture. With the
of you @f iy it is for glory, and not for the
o into TBRion, that there is in it for the profes- |
safe. Bare ful As the saying goes, “the woods |
evt.” r ull of electricians,” and there are
elief hate r livi, young men who are making ¢
in followays ng from this occupation nowa-
y am not trying to discourage

oS

£2
<_

5 exe :
sae cat but telling you the facts as they ap-
; house mages on. Surely can find something

tives we work at that will pay you better

‘dent hetbbons end. The occupations you write
7 -ombut re Splendid studies for amusement,

urst fro Ot for profit

louse, a I 5

A,
. it form Tre o New York City. writes: ‘Would you
seemed lowine 80 kind as to inform we which of the
> had beep, Ce offers you would advise me to ac-
deci pur he is to study law, the other veterinary
fore MU eagms aud which is the best paying busi
the cella csr which is the best paying busi-

  
 

     
   
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
       
     
 

 

Lilding W#) Of
le to sav ete te two professions, would prefer
agreed to Nary surgeon, as there are not so

a
guard, a Ney eterinaries as lawyers, and conse-
‘way. Heeq YOu stand a better chance to suc-
sort, name ctor» Ome people speak about a “horse
\tain’s CO®Bt Sarcastically, but they evidently
s, Provolkeg aware that the so called “horse
han Can make more money in a year
ogether WiPtofe, ‘large majority of men in other |
ons. fi Slons could make in ten years.
SO besouk™ ) ‘ M., Philadelphia, Pa., writes: “I am a
f the cha ' i ear y 16 years of age, and working in a
ed, till Sala. M8 store in this city, and am receiving a
black babey Ma) per week, and am now learning
ee it 1 dear’ and typewriting. T have paid a
” i i it Sey ot attention to your ‘Short Talks,’ and
. a. auifellte py. erel instances where boys have asked
; in findARin YU did not seem to encouraye them in
under Mptit,,‘Ypewriting, as it was an employ-
g buildin pect of 1, for girls. 1 cats How write ata
on y " Vords per minute. lab do you
wit & ele mt qyey Sarnbee for a reporter ? Which do
lity oO al rep, 86 ine to do—stay at the store or try
mes had sf Posies cts? What is the best way to get
s to rene xl Ugh at reporting? I think before next
house aD #ilinte;, 411 be able to write 150 words per
turned mi It
of the aetn tyre Ido not encourage boys to
later In @ ‘ahiog jPewriting, as they stand a poor
Ome:\ a Ae Success, on account of the large
| lived pi a thig of young girls who have taken
onds— Wh dig Cupation. Stenography, though,

  

 
    
   
    
  
  
 
    
 
 
  

is ¢

    
  
  
  
   
      
      
 
      
 
 
   
     
 

to pres Donte eat, if you desire to become a
spay’ 4& young women cannot do
).) , oy ret reporting as good as a man.
le Te a good stenographer, and

pill heperate the typewriting machine
RTERS. ql be €lp you in reporting, that is, you

Rckly 25le to transcribe your notes
aly a lon aed in legible style, which will
nor As ti Yang fo Way toward making your em-
0 the nen woe! that youare valuable. News-
one of pet iy argon’ is not a gold field, but plenty
onderful DE Pig." and interesting work for the

of fem oUth who starts in witha firm
name, folO@ "ation to succeed. There is no
tering & “de Bt Mess where the combination of
Arab wate aug? Industry, and loyulty are so

ato .
the caves, iy ' © success as in newspaper

  

   
 
  
     

leterminee i 9 On theorters, who rough it, that is,
lair. Tabs Sly Fhe regular staff, make from $10
ve cloak, Ane D Week, according to their ability.
his left S9k Pople ‘would say according to

«¢o Oy, 9) .

nting knifegy bwhecident, but I think that a re-
ing dow? By tk © cannot bring in more than $10
fiir, 826 to give up the business and
on the panty nein & trade where a different kind
pon him- My ters: ork is required. Regular staff
Ha left ary ah ek. Salaries range from $25 to $80
ts teeth Udy as 8 Jescriptive writers receive as
M khtar’ g, tittea io aweek. If vou are not ac-
On he. pide theith any of the’peop! cted

> in the Ati. the any of the’people connecte
death-st™ en’ the onee daily papers in the big
: desperately Oy, On the y way to secure an engage-
trer: its Oe A Yount ne paper is to keep your wits
‘ck folds O% ftp dap, 2nd when an event of a start-
j enabled ih) tye happens in your vicinity,
a bat int tha? and telegraph the most likely
tretched j 8 Whine have a good descriptive

 

  
 

  
     

 

  

 
  

  

  

     

WKS

        
   

 

 
 

 

th they can make nse of at

    

Goonyp

their own price. Another good way is
to apply to the newspapers in the large
cities for the position as special corres-
pondent. You should understand stenog-
raphy, as it would be almost impossible
to be a good reporter unless you were able
to interview and take notes in shorthand,
Here is where your knowledge of type-
writing would come in good play. Sup-
posing you were out reporting an event,
and hurried to the office, compositors
ealling for “copy,” and you have only
your notes. You sit down to the type-
writing machine and rattle off 150 words
a minute, and ina short time your copy
is ready for the editor’s blue pencil to
cross out the matter he don’t want pub-
lished, and then itis all ready for the
compositors to set. up and go to press.

>. A. D., Indianapolis, Ind., writes: ‘“‘Would
you kindly let me know how to become an
actor, and if itisa paying business? I am 17
years of age, stout and hearty. I am not
stage struck, but like the stage and business.
Ihave been in a number of performances in
this city, and One outof town. What salary
conld I getif 1 began as a property man, and
what wages are paid to a beginner ?”’

Of course you are not stage struck, no
one ever admits that. You are probably
a born actor, and feel that if you should
goto work and learn a trade, you would
miss your vocation, and the world at large
would be the loser. When you area few
years older, and more experienced you
will wish that you had learned a trade
instead of following the professional
stage for a living. “The percentage of
actors who are successful is very small
indeed, and compared with other profes-
sions, trades, and occupations, it cannot
be mentioned. There is no regular salary
for an actor. They receive all the way
from $12 to $500 a week. Most of. the
arge salaries we hear about, however,
are only on paper, and if the truth was
known they would be willing to exchange
positions with a man who is sure of mak-
ing four or five dollars a day by the sweat
of his brow. The fact of your being
“stout and hearty” is a good argument
why you should not go on the stage, but
learn some good*trade instead. An
article in Goop News No, 94 “Short
Talks with the Boys” will interest you.

—

—___— -~>- @-@ ..-—-
THE MUD-FISH.

 

Africa is the home of many extraordin-
ary animals, but there is no more re-
markable creature than the mud-fish,
which inhabits certain of the rivers of
Western Africa, and, as its name implies,
lurks at the muddy bottoms of these
rivers. At first sight there is nothing
especially striking about this animal;
it looks very much like an ordinary fish
except for its curious long, slender fins.
When the fishes arrive at a Zoo each one
is incased in a ball of dried mud,
perforated by asmall aperture to admit
of breathing. ‘The “cocoon,” as it is some-
times called, on being placed in warmish
water, is dissolved, and the fish liberated,

The habit which the mud-fish has of
making an earthen chamber of the mud
at the bottom of the river, is a most
woncerful provision ofnature. Therivers
which the fish inhabit are liable to
periodical droughts. When such a drought
is imminent, the fish retires to deep water
and excavates a pit, in which it lies,
covering itselt over with a thick layer
of mud. It can suffer with impunity the
complete drying-up of the river. But the
most interesting fact about the creature
is, that during the time of its voluntary
imprisonment, it breathes air directly
through an aperture left in the cocoon,
by means of lungs, like a land animal,
When the rains dissolve the mud and
liberate the fish, it breathes by means of
gills, just like any cther fish.

—————————

HOW TO KEEP AN AQUARIUM.

Snails and mussels are very useful ad-
ditions to an aquarium, as they help to
purify the water by using up decaying
vegetable matter. On the bottom of the
vessel should be put un inch of well-
washed river sand, and a handful or two
of pebbles strewn over this. Mussels
may be fed with a few worms, the
quantity being limited in order to avoid
the introduction of decayable substances
into the water. An aquarium requires
all the light it can possibly get, so that
the plants and its living oceupants can
tLrive; but under no circumstances must
the sun be allowed to shine directly on
it; in fact, it must be kept away from
heat of any description. Clear, pure
water should be used, and from time to
time it must be aerated by emptying four
or five cupfuls of water into the tank,
holding the cup about eighteen inches
above the water, and thus, by forcing air
into the water, purifying it and making
it habitable for your pets.

 

NEWS.

Qur Mail Bag.

ne on subjects of general interest only are
dealt with in the “Mail Bau.” Medical or legal
questions not answered. Goop NEws goes to press
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Communications intended for
this column should be addressed Goop NEws ‘Mail
Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.]

eee

W. K. (Lowell, Mass.)—Write to the United
States Civil Service Commissioner, Washington,
D, C.

H. K.(New York)—The two column article en-
titled ‘‘Home-made Cameras” appeared in No. 59
of GOoOov NEWS. We cannot publish the article
again, but will send you a copy of paper No. 59 on
receipt of five cents.

G. F. (New York)—1. The American Garden, pub-
lished at150 Nassau street, N. Y., will probably
give you the required information. 2. No premium
on coin named, 3. We answer yes to the three sec-
tions of this question

R. S. (Denton, Tex.)\—We did not publish the
story “Guy Harris, the Runaway,” in book form,
but can furnish the back pumbers of GOOD NEWS
containing the story for seventy-five cents. It ran
through fifteen numbers.

A. LL. (Marion, Ind.)—The milky-way is a whitish,
vapory belt, and is composed of multitudes of mil-
lions of suns—of which our own sun itself is one—
so far removed from us that their light mingles, and
makes only a fleecy whiteness.

F. B. (Ovid, Mich.)—Marine shells and stones are
eleaned by rubbing with arag dipped in common
hy drocloric acid till the outer dull skin is removed,
washing in warm water, drying in hot sawdust, and
polishing with chamois leather.

K. J. N, (Louisville, Ky.)--Fly-marks can be
cleaned off the frames with soap and water used
sparingly on the end of the finger covered by a
piece of rag When all cleared off, rinse with cold
water, and dry with chamois leather,

71’. S. (St. Louis, Mo.)—The mere eating of food

cannot make muscle. The muscles must be called |

into vigorous daily exercise, yet without over-
doing. Excessive eating is weakening, and must
be avoided. It is the amount digested and assimi-
lated that tells, not the quantity taken into the
stomach.

M. J. L. (Boston, Mass.)—-We cannot recommend
any preparation that will make you sleep. A good
remedy for sleeplessness is hard work. Tire your
body and not your brain if you desire refreshing
sleep. You are above the average in height, and as
you are growing very fast you needa full allow-
ance of sleep. In summer time bathe often.

G. H. J. (Dubuque, lowa)—When the feathers on {

the head of a bird ‘all off, and any watery eruptions
appear, you may know that it is suffering from the
surfeit. The head should be washed every day with
spring water, in which a httle salt has been dis-
solved, wiping the head afterward quite dry, and
anointing the skin with palm oil. The bird should
be kept warm.

S. L. J. (Cleveland, Ohio)—In the day-time we
cannot see the stars because of the superior light
of the sun; but with a telescope they can be traced,
and an astronomer will find certain stars as well at
noon as at midnight. And when looking at the sky
from the bottom of a deep well or lofty chimney, if
a bright star happens to be directly overhead, it
can be seen with the naked eye, even at midday.

E. J. H. (Port Townsend, Wash.)—1. New mili-
tary tactics were introduced into the militia last
year. ‘They are said to be the same as used in the
regular army. 2. Write to the War Department,
Washington, D.C. 3. No premiums on the coin. 4.
For books on electricity write to W. J. Johnson
Co., Times Building, New York. We publish in
our Manual Library a book entitled “Boys Own
Book of Boats.” 1t will be sent to you on receipt of
price, 10 cents.

Jolly Jack (Duluth, Minn.)—A sheer, in naval
architecture, is the curve or bend of a ship’s deck
or sides. A skeg is the extreme after-part of the
keel of a vessel; the portion that supports the rud.
der-post. The keelson is the timber within a ves-
sel laid upon the middle of the floor timbers, and
exactly over the keel. - Hogging is a term applied
to the hullof a vessel when her ends drop below
her center. <A caravel is a small vessel (of 25 or 30
tons burden) used upon the coast of France in her-
ring fisheries

H. A. H. (Chicago, Ill.)—1, The name is sometimes
restricted to the land tortoises, the term turtle be-
ing applied tothe marine species. 2. Nervous-
ness When facing an audience is lack of confidence
in one’s ability. 3. Would not like to recommend
any one volume of encyclopedia, as there is hardly
enough of information in one volume to make it
useful. 4. “Frank Hunter’s Peril” is the last
Alger story we published. It commenced in No.
82and endedin No. 92. 5. Yes, we are pleased to
know that you value our paper so highly.

A. H. (East Ogden, Utah)—1. The famous Lick ob-
servatory is on the top of Mount Hamilton, Cali-
fornia. To reach 1t you take a train from san Fran-
cisco and travel fifty miles south to San Jose, then
by stage about thirteen miles. ‘lhe gigantic tel-
escope was given to America and to science by
James Lick, the California miner. It is the most
powerful telescope ever made. The diameter of the
great glass is 36 inches, and its local length 56 feet
2 inches, the weight of it amounting to several
tons. 2. It would cost you at least $700 to have the
work published in book-form.

T. W. (Phila, Pa.)\—The wonders of this age or
century are but faintly represented by the number
seven, if you mean the wonders derived from
science and engineering. Foremost stands the
steam engine and its wondrous work in developing
power. The development of. electric power, light,
and transmission of language in the telegraph, the
telephone, the phonograph. Then the opening of
celestial space by the great telescopes, The diving
into the infinitesimal by the modern microscope.
And as works of engineering, the Mont Cenis
Tunnel, the Menai Bridge, the New York and
Brooklyn Bridge, the St. Louis Bridge, the ocean
telegraph lines, modern ordnance, the Atlantic
racers, the transcontinental railways, and along
list of lesser works of note.

P. B. (Yankton, Dak.)—The following cement is
said to stick on anything. Take of clear gum
arabic two ounces, of fine starch one ounce anda
half, and of white sugar half an ounce. Reduce the
gum arabic to powder, and dissolve itin as much
water as a laundress would use to render one ounce
and a half of starch fit for use. Dissolve the starch
and sugar inthe gum solution. Then place the
mixture in a vessel and plunge the vessel itself in
boiling water, and let it remain there until the
starch becomes clear. € cement should be as
thick as tar,and remainso. Itcan ve kept from
spoiling by dropping in a lump of camphor, or a lit-
tie oil of cloves or sassafras. ‘his cemetitis said to
be very strong, indeed, and will cause glazed sur-
faces toadhere perfectly. It is useful foi repairing
specimens of rocks, minefals, or tesei¢ that may

1 have Ween scoldentally brekwi,

    
  
 
   
      
 
   
  
      
    
  
   
  
   
   
   
     
 
   
 
   
   
 
    
   
 
  
       
    
     
 
    
  
     
   
  
  
   
 
 
      
 
   
    
   
   
  
 
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
      
   
  
         
     
   
   
     
     
    
       

Ticklets.

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER.

it aad

A Lucky Boy.

Small Boy—‘‘Dickie Duartt is the luckiest boy
Tknow. He is always havin’ somethin’ nice
happen. He went to the theater las’ night.”

Little Sister—*You often go, too.” ‘

Small Boy—‘‘Yes, but there was a fire in this
theater, an’ a awful panic, an’ lots of people
got crushed, an’ he was there an’ saw th’ whole
business.”

Little Sister—“ Where is he now.”

Little Boy—‘“‘In a hospertal.”

Up to the Times.

Little Boy (doorkeeper at juvenile circus per-
formance)—‘‘Where’s your five cents ?’

Small Visitor—“I come on a invitation.”

Little Boy—“ Yes, everybody got invitations,
but only these wet pays five cents can get in.
This is a reg’lar McAllister show, this is.”

No Wonder.

Teacher—“Why do you come to school with
your hands and face so dirty, and your clothes
all dust?”

Little Boy-—“‘We’re cleanin’ house.”

The Honest Dealer.

Dealer—‘‘If you vant to shine in society, you
buy dis suit. I sell him for ten tollar.”

Customer—“ All right, I’) take ’em,”

Dealer’s Little Boy (some moments after)—
“Vy you sell dot suit so cheap?”

Dealer—“In von week dot suit will be all
| shiny.”

A Precious Ornament.

Mary (during a moving)—“The missus is very
partie’ lar about this brickybac mantel clock,
an’ says We'll have to carry it. T'll take it.”

Jane—‘No, you take th’ baby an’ T’ll carry
th’ clock. You might let th’ clock fall wid your
awkwardness.”

|

Excuse for Bad Roads.

Bieyclist (in disgust)—“Why do you have
such abominable roads in this section ?”’

Farmer—‘Wall, you see, we’re afraid if we
made ’em any better you bicycle fellers will be
usin’ ’em.”

The Reservoirs Dry.

New Papa—“I was glad to see that you didn't
ery at your mamima’s wedding,”

Little Girl—“No, sir; I used to cry at mam-
ma’s weddings, but my tears is all used up.”

Wrongly Named.

Butcher Boy—‘“I don’t see why they call
these scales steelyards,”

Butcher—‘*Why don't ye ?”

Boy—“‘They don't steal yards, they steal
ounces.”

Not Mistaken.

Bertha—“I knew you were a literary man,
Mr. Scribbler, the first time I saw you.”

Mr. Scribbler—““Did my countenance shine ?”

Bertha—*N—o, but your coat did.”

Liked Children.

Neighbor No. 1--‘‘Does the noise of my chil-
dren disturb you?”

Neighbor No. 2—*‘Oh, I lke it.”

“Do you, really ?”’.

“Yes, indeed. My husband’s relatives are
rather nervous people, and they never stay
longer than a day or two now.”

Not His Turn.

Floor-Walker—“‘Don't you hear Miss Sellem
calling ‘Cash’ at the top of her voice ?”

Cash-Boy—“ Yep.”

“Why don’t you go to her?’

“'Taint my turn. It’s Jim Jimson’s.”

“Where is Jim?”

“He just fell down th’ elevator.”

Spring in the City.

City Mamma—‘Did you have a nice time in
the park ?”

City Boy—*Yes'’n.”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, lots of things—run on th’ walks, an’
made faces at th’ pleeceman, an’ dodged the
horses, an’ fired stones at the ‘keep-off-th’-
grass’ signs, an’ everything.”

Appreciative.

Pree Little Girl (singing)—“I want to be an
angel.”

Mr. Nicefello—‘Have patience. You'll grow.’,

Modern Conveniences.

Little Dick—‘‘What’s mama got her teeth in
a tumbler for?”

Little Dot—‘Mebby they ache. Wish I had
that kind.”

A Useless Accomplishment.

Teacher—“‘No living being can read your
writing. Why don’t you try to learn %”

Little Boy—‘‘No use. I’m goin’ to be a doc-
tor, like papa.”

Dick Knew the Sex.‘

Little Dick—‘Mamma gave me a big cake,
and said I shoulda give you half. Let’s play a
game with it.”

Little Dot—“‘All right.”

Little Dick—“Well, let’s sit down, and the
one that keeps from talkin’ the longest will get
th’ whole cake.”

A LAUGHING PLANT.

Queer antics, like those caused by taugh-
ing gas, are produced by a dose of the

owdered seed of the laughing plant.
Pinder the influence of this Arabian plant
any person can be made to laugh, dance,
shout, and otherwise act boisterously.
This condition lasts about half an hour,
and is usually followed by a deep sleep.
When the person awakes, he has ne reco}-
lection of his comdwet,

 

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1760

GooDp

 

 

Puzzle Corner.

solicited. Please do not
obsolete words. _ Address,
P.O. Box 2734, New York

{Original contributions
send puzzles containing
“Puzzle Editor” Goop NEWS,
City.] ‘ e
No. 1—DoUBLE CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.

In sugar shiell.
In ringing bell.
In Laughing Dan.
In Giggling Fan.
My whole is a noted village in New York.
THE TOURIST.

No. 2—WORD SQUARE.
1. Something we eat.
2. A girl’s name.
3. A small particle.
4, Geutle. W. L. ODELL,.

 

No. 3—ELEVEN HIDDEN LAKES OF WISCONSIN. |
“Rar below the rocky cliffs, and big white |
pines, the muddy waters of the Yellow Plume
rushed madly along its winding course to the
sea.” RUPARRA.

No.

No. 5—CHARADE.

4—DIAMOND.
. A letter.

. Earth.

. On feet.

An officer.

 

 

 

 

 

om cote

. Thick
5. To observe.

. A letter.

-1

R. R. HANCH.

My first is a body of water,

My second is an animal ;

My whole is found in many seas,
HERMANN KARPLES,

No. 6—PRIMAL ACROSTIC. y
1. An animal. No, 1—
2. A relation. GooD NEWS.
3. A metal. No, 2-
4. Au aniwal. 1. H. Alger, Jr.
5. A bird. 2. Lounsberry.
6. Beneath. 3. W. Mortis.
7. Part of the face. 4. Stratemeyer.
Read my initiais downward, and they will 5. E. Ellis.
form the uame of a battle. 6. J. K. Orton.
REN. MULFORD. 7 BE. H. Lewis.
No. 7—WokD REBUSSES. . * Hemyng,
1 BUS 9. Jas. O18.
‘agit 10. Arthur Sewell.
BL No, 3—
2. R ai eet. a
ee ARGO
BE Gy =i > x,
T. A. BECKET, JR. T 0: ¥. 8
No. 8-EAsSY DIAMOND PUZZLE, No. &— 1. Rine
1. In rough and ready. zs Watt
2. A resting place. .. Har “ag
3. A wanderer “ Stns
4. A number. ‘ay Hi Pe i
5. In rough and ready. oe ert rT AOR.
JOHN H. MACKEY. 7. Sora
NO. 9—PUZZLE. &. Pistol.
A word of three letters my whole will be, 9. Towel,
Make it less by adding another to me, 10, Skates.
J. PURCELL. No, 5—
; ‘oray’s Pr >
No. 10—VERBAL CHARADE, ; Kit Carey’s Protege.
My first is in work, but not in play. No, 6—
My second isin hour, but uot in day. Lounsberry.
My third is in drink, but not in eat, No. 7—
My fourth is im legs, but not in feet. Sweetheart.
My fifth 1s in spoke, but not in wheel.

My sixth is a vowel, ’tis found in seal.
My seventh is in rest, so try your best,
My whole, if you place it word for word,
Is the softest sound that can be heard.

FF, FELLOWS

HOW THE FLY SPOILED THE PHOTOCRAPH.

 

 

TUAERCRACEOUCENCR RAN CRT ACR EROE RCRA ERREAEECRARORTEOCRR EET E ERE EET

huswers to Puzzles in No. 109 Good News,

PUZZLE SOLVERS.
Alfred Reeves, Jerry Hodkins, Frank D. Per
rins, Alice Jones, Wm, P. Johnson.

ports.

persons.

C., canning factory.

Short Stops.

THE Czar of Russia never shaves.
WOMEN load and unload vessels in Japanese

A QUARTER of Scotlana is owned by twelve

No-SHIRT is the name of the new chief of the
Umatillas

WOWEN exclusively run a Winnsborough (N

FOOTBALL was a favorite game among the
Greeks and Romans

DURING 1890 there were built
States 8,500 churches.

A NO-PUN-MOUTHED
never plays ou words.

A WORKMAN was fined in Germany for calling
another an anarchist.

A SOLUTION of pearlash thrown upon a fire
extinguishes it instantly.

At Banco, on the River Magdalena, in Colom
bia, the Indians eat earth.

A GOLD coin depreciates 5 per cent. in value
in 16 years of constant use.

A SIMPLE remedy for hiccough is a lump of
sugar saturated with vinegar.

Ir isto be hoped that angels are not com-
pelled to deserye their obituaries

PURLOINING sausages is now
dog stealing in the second degree.

WHEN the prisoner heard his sentence he was
visibly moved—by two policemen

A MAN is all the better for trying to be good,

in the United

fellow—The man who

described as

 
  
      
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
    

Books take exercise. .You frequently heard
a popularnovel having ‘quite a run.”
MANY preachers try to make their congreg#
tions better than they are themselves.
MEN who believe their fellow-creatures to 08
pigmies are generally hogs themselves.

Ir you have a Jonah among your friends
don’t sit down and cry about it; be a whale
NINE women out of ten understand their DM
bands. Oue manout of ten understands
wife.
“T WILL now be up and do-ing,” remarked if
clerk as he jotted aown a series of dil®
marks.

A FISH diet is said to be good for the bral
Probably this is because the fish go so often?
schools.
Four pounds of gold were recently conecttt
from the soot of the chimney of the Royal M#
in Berlin.

THERE is a square mile in Idaho to every He
habitant. Good place to go and grow up wil
the country.

“TF you want to make the most of your hired
man, give him good tools to work with,” say
an old farmer

WHEN a man is convicted of foolish condntl
he nearly always says that the people are nl
“liberal” enough.

SOME one tells us that one-third of peo}
time is spentin bed. This accounts fort
retiring disposition.

TEACHER—* What important change call
over Burns in the later years of his life?”

Pupil—*He died.” '

Iv is often said that second thoughts are &
So they are in watters of judgment, but not
watters of conscience. j

THE greatest plague ever known visi
Naples in 1656. It lasted twenty-eight wet
and carried off 380,000 people. }

KEEP the iron work of the plows and out
machinery painted when notin use, Use prot
mineral paint and petroleum. y

EVERY man has a right to keep a dog, but
trouble is in most cases, they are not keply
turned lose to prey on the public.

OvuR old schoolmaster has gone into th
holstery business. He probably will advé
“gld pupils recaned at short notice.” é

VENEZUELA has fifty-six holidays every ¥aq
On these occasions the people close their 8!
and enjoy themselves in chicken-fights.

“I’M on to you,” said the drop of ink to
blotter, in a tone of considerable asperity:

ved
elt

,
‘tif

 

“Dry up,” said the blotter, savagely.

A WRITER On animals says that dogs gems
fear any strange objects that appear at wif
The Southern darkies think they fear whost

THE Government of Switzerland is the val
economically managed in Europe, The #
dent of the Swiss Republic is paid $3,000 aye

   
  
  
  
  
   

“T po my spring cleaning at all seasons of
year.”’

“How is that ?”’

“Tam a watchmaker.”

Some of the African tribes pull their fim
till the joints ‘crack’ as a form of salutil
and one.tribe has the curious fashion of ll
ing friendship by standing back to back. 4

“WHAT is the meaning of the word taul
ing ?’”’ asked the teacher. f

“Please, ma’am,” spoke up little Johnny 4
combe, “it means a circus procession pa {
the school-house and the scholars not all?
to look out.”

 

no matter what the motive mac be.
In Austria women are employed as hod-car-
riers, and get a shilling a day for it.
“SO DARK, and yet*so light!” as the man said
when he looked at his new ton of coal.

GERMANY possesses 24,843 miles of railway

France, 21,396; Great Britain and Ire
| 19,811; Russia, 17,823, and. Austria, 15,442 1
| The United States nas 124,000 miles of rally
the average cost of making each mile has
$57,000.

   

 

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