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OU Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1893, by Slreet & Smith, in the Opice of the Librarian of Congress, Washingion, D. 0. Entered as Second-class Matier at the New Yori:, N.Y., Post-Office. Vol. 6. ot tine Gide Boe. Breathe New York. April 8, 1893. Subsoriniieh Price: 9200 ner Vous. No. 153, hen e%0e?teh so? Oat Vg hgh % gh 8 ght Mab ys ee eget as ee" Se N el teh Set net ote e tae tne we Ne eet hares h Hel Me lhg nas Mee ee he ne ashes eat hh gh Mae Meet eta tae ae” os eer eat tate ete eee hn ene ee tes teeta a eae Hehe tees eho Ret ete e tases net eal hele geteetc ones taeteeseMne%ee eet ent tat Bg eb este eye Res tas aga shO gl tglt sl g0tee8c0"ce%ee"ec*ee%ee CARELESS JACK; Or, THE SECRET OF THE MOUND BUILDERS. BY OL.I: COOMES. ; : : \ 3 A Wy SS NAS . ANS == : : | + ‘ . ANA \ SWS ess WSS THE UNKNOWN HELD HIMSELF UPON THE LIMB. SS CHAPTER (tV. | The crack of three rifles suddenly re- SSS WHO WAS IT IN THE TREE? | sounded through the woods. = = : — SS —~ | Ten minutes later Bey came running ——— —— re eee = SSS VY % WAY through the forest sped the | back to-the place where he had met the Ea We\C mustang with the body of Bey!horseman, wounded and bleeding, ard a dragging behind. | followed by Oscar Tabor, Dick Grayson, “2 In mid-air hung the body of the|and Ike Cromwell. It was these three ranchero, from whose Jips fierce yells is- | boys that had rescued the old man from a igsued in tones of agony. ' horrible death by shooting the pony. THE SAILS FILLED, AND THE MYSTERIOUS VEHICLE SHOT AWAY OVER THE PLAIN. (‘CARELESS JACK,” was commienced last week.) 2434 GOOD NEw Ss. Still in the air hung the man of the lasso. ‘The fingers of a great, muscular hand were clutched into his long raven locks. Our friends stopped and gazed up into the dense foliage. At full length along a huge, knotted limb they saw the body of a man stretched out. One hand held the ranchero by the hair, while with the other the unknown held himself upon the limb. But the face of the man was concealed among the foliage. “Hullo, up thar, stranger, who be you?” exclaimed old Arkansaw Bey. There was no response, save a low, sub- dued outburst of laughter. “T say, stranger,” repeated Bey, “who be you that’s got a-squirmin’ body swung on to the eend of that onmerciful big arm and fist? Are you a man? or are youa giant ‘possum? Say, stranger, poke your physiuognomy down so’s a feller can see which you be.” Strange to say, the man in the tree maintained his dogged silence—never uttering a word nor moving a muscle. But the man of the saddle was making | noise enough for a dozen men. Black with rage, and suffering with the most excruciating pain, he tore, like one pos- sessed, at the hand imbedded in his Hy- perion curls, Suddenly, however, the unknown in the tree dropped the man of the noose, and the moment the man's feet touched the ground, he shot away through the woods like a frightened beck. Then for the first time the man in the tree spoke, “Catch him! shoot the varlet!” he ex- claimed, Acting under the impulse of the mo- ment, Bey and the three boys started off in swift pursuit. But the fugitive was a quick and agile fellow, and dodged like | a savage among the trees and under- growth, making pursuit difficult. At every _ bound he gained upon our friends, and at length they lost sight of him altogether, and gave up the chase, Returning to the tree the quartette was astonished to find the man they had left behind gone. ' “By the kissing Venus,” exclaimed old Bey, with surprise, written upon his face, “if that ar’n’t a leetle the queerest critter I’ve found since I left the bed and board of my wife, Matilda Bey. It gits ahead of me.” “It's very strange why the man has acted so,” replied Dick Grayson; “but then there are some strange folks and mysterious things up here on the Nio- brara.” : Old Arkansaw Bey fixed a look upon the boy as he spoke that bore the impress of an ufieasy, restless spirit. Thenas a faint smile passed over the old man’s face, he began searching the ground, say- ing: Fes, this is a strange country, boy, and I’d give anything to know who that feller was in the tree. Mebby we can ‘track him.” “We might,” replied Dick; “but, Bey, I would rather put in my time searching - for our friend, Careless Jack.” “Yes, yes;,so’d I,” responded Bey, “for I’d be awful sorry to lose sight of that boy. Come, and I'll lead you back toa point where I last saw him on the river. f he’s dead, his body ‘ll be found below that spot.” ~ The old man led the way down the river, followed by the. three young trap- rs. - They had journeyed but a_short ways, when Arkansaw suddenly asked: “Boys, do you know anything ‘bout Jack’s past life?” ' “Nothing whatever,” replied Oscar Tabor; “I joined him about a year ago, and as I never heard him _ talk about any of his friends, I guess he don’t know any- ‘thing about them.” “Yon don’t tell me!” exclaimed the old ~man thoughtfully. . Young Tabor saw that Bey, was for - some reason or other deeply interested in Careless Jack Kerr, He had, in a meas- ure, become convinced of this the even- ing before when he saw the old man bend- ing over Jack and searching hisface as he lay wrapped in slumber; and as he = =e the matter over in his mind, he asked: f “Who is Arkansaw Bey, the mysterious x old borderman?” - CHAPTER V. OLD STRABISMUS. ‘ will now return, and look after Careless Jack. We left ~ him anda savage banging over os the floating log, and up'to the _ time that Bey appeared upon the stage of - action he seemed to hold the advantage over his foe. But when he saw Bey and his warrior standing upright on the lo with drawn knives. he was so startled that, forgetting himself, he released his hold upon the savage’s hair, and both were swept away by a billow. _ Jack saw his blunder when too late to recall it, and all that he could do was to swim for life; and accordingly he struck out for shore. The rolling waters Sree him far down the river, but he finally succeeded in reaching the shore nearer dead than alive. He sank down ex- hausted upon the bank. A dull stupor 'seized upon him, which he tried to shake off in vain, and he fell asleep. How long he slept he knew not, but when he awoke it was daylight; and the first thing of which he became aware was of being borne along under the blue sky upon a kind of a litter. A glance told him that he was carried by Indians. His heart sank within his breast when he found he was a captive. The savages halted as soon as they saw he had recovered consciousness. Jack rose to a sitting posture, and gazed around. They were in the depths of an interminable prairie. The sun was inthe zenith. A strong, dry wind was blowing from the east. The boy's captors were a dozen Sioux, all in war-paint. Jack’s clothing had become thoroughly dried; but the boy felt weak and feverish. He tried to stand, but his limbs would not support him. The savages gave him some venison tu eat and water to drink, which gave him strength. Still Jack appeared as if half- delirious. Pe paid little attention to what was going on. At least, it seemed so to his captors. Jack soon discovered that the leader of the party was a white man in Indian dis- guise, but he did not take courage from the discovery. The party tarried nearly an hour, and then were about to resume their march when the ever-vigilant eyes of the Sioux caught sight of an object upon the plain, which delayed their starting. Every eye became fixed upon the object, which at first seemed to be standing still, But it soon became evident that it was moving—coming directly toward the In- dians. Great excitement. prevailed; and there was not alittle speculation as to what the object was. It was not a buffalo, neither was it a horseman, nor a party of footmen, The thing was slow in approaching— so slow the savages became impatient. It was an hour or more in traveling a mile; and even when it came up to where they were in waiting, the party were in doubt as to what kind of an arrangement stood before them, It was a vehicle without horses. It consisted of four light, strong wheels, the axles being connected by thin spring boards, upon which sat two men. ' It was steered by an apparatus arranged to the front axle and operated by the driver. A pole about ten feet long, and fixed in a roller over the front axle, lay upon «the vehicle. To this was attached ropes and canvas--all of which lay in a disordered mass upon the craft, - The cart was propelled by the feet of its proprietor, who, sitting astride of the middle coupling-board, permitted his feet to touch the ground, and with the tip of one foot, and then the other, in the man- ner that a walking velocipede is oper- ated, he was enabled to move along at a goodly speed over smooth, level ground, The proprietor himself was rather an odd specimen of humanity. He could not have been under forty years of age. He was a tall, angular fellow, whose long legs and arms and huge hands were in ill-proportion with the rest of his body, In general features he was a man whom none would hesitate in pronouncing the ugliest in the Territory. He was affected with strabismus until both eyes seemed bent on closely watching the bridge of his rominent Roman nose. His mouth was arge and. always twitching. is dress was as odd as himself. and vehicle, and taken altogether, the object was such as had never been seen upon the prairies of Nebraska. is The man riding on the board behind him was none other than the ranchero who had come to grief that day in his attempt to lasso Bey and drag him away at the heels of his pony. As the vehicle came to a stand in the midst .of the savages, an exclamation burst from tkeir lips. _ “How’d ye do, gentlemen?” exclaimed the manager of the cart. His looks provoked an outburst of mer- riment from the renegade chief and his warriors, “Hullo, Black Wolf,” said the ranchero, dismounting from the vehicle; “glad to meet you, ole pard.” : “Henri Roche, as I am born!” exclaimed Black Wolf. “Why, man, how comes it vat res are here in this way?” 4 “Why, the devil’s been at work since I saw you, and between his Satanic Ma- jesty and my idiocy, I was unhorsed to- day, and left to foot it through. But as Inck would have it, along came Old Stra- |- bismus here, and took me aboard of his Flying-shuttle, as he calls this rig.” “Yes, gentlemen, I are Ole Strabismus, and this ’ere wheeled gig I call Flying- shuttle,” put in the man with the vehicle; “Tin a stranger’n these parts—reckon you never seed me before.” “If we had, we’d -never have forgotten you, that’s certain,” replied Black Wolf, in a sarcastic manner, Black Wolf and Henri Roche stepped aside and conversed in undertones for some time. In the meantime, Old Stra- bismus, dismounted from his gig, walked around if and examined every part care- fully, at the same time explaining its parts to the redskins, whose curiosity over the vehicle was as great as that in the man. “Oh, it’s a nice goer!” said the man, though no one but Careless Jack under- stood a word he said; “I can travel forty miles a day with her, take the rivers and cricks out of my way, and level down the hills. A kick back’ard with the toe ’ll send her rolling. She’s easily propelled —sensitive to the tech. Why, when [ found that man afoot out on the prairie, I took him aboard and the way we come trippin’ down the prairie was a caution.” “TIT say, Old Strabismus, where are you going?” said Black Wolf, returning to the party in waiting. “Most anywhar.” “Well, then, sir, suppose youdo mea favor by carrying that boy to the Sioux village on your vehicle, He give out and can’t walk.” The old man glanced toward Careless Jack, and said: “T’ll do anything for money—that’s what I’m here for.” “Money or no money, I guess you can run the*boy over to the village, and if you are deceiving us in any way, I'll have you done up.” “No deception here, Mr. Ingin,” said the old man, in meekness and humility. “He’s a little crack-brained,” said Roche, in an unaertone, “A wandering lunatic—harniless as a child,” added Black Wolf. Careless Jack was placed upon the spring board behind the old man, and the order given to advance. Planting his foot upon the ground, the conductor set his vehicle in motion, It started off easily, yet the old man labored hard to keep it in motion, The Indians and outlaws were greatly amused, and followed along behind yell- ing and laughing. slowly they made their way across the plain toward the Platte. Astrong, steady wind was blowing from the east, across which the party made its way. The neta of the vehicle and the ludi- crous movements of its operator soon wore off, and Black Wolf and Roche be- came impatient. They wanted to move faster, . ‘ The savages being indulged by their chief, finally became abusive and vio- lent; and Old Strabismus became the vic- tim of many cruel blows and slaps; but the harmless old man received ther all in aspirit of fun, and labored on until the perspiration streamed from his face. “What a fool he is,” said Henri Roche; “he uses more exertion with that thing to travel one mile than it would require to travel three miles without it.” “Well, let him exert himself, if he wants to,” said Black Wolf. The renegade finally placed two Indians in the rear of the vehicle to assist in pro- pelling it by pushing; but while it made the labor lighter on Old Strabismus, it did not accelerate the speed of the rig. Black Wolf, Roche, and the savages finally passed on in advance, and had soon gained a couple hundred yards upon the vehicle. Old Strabismus, seeing this, turned sud- denly and whispered something to Care- less Jack. oe The next instant the old man seized a rope and pulled upon it with all bis strength. The long pole lying upon tbe vehicle instantly sprang upright, and be- came fixed there by braces of strong ropés attached to it. A few shifts and the can- vas clinging about the ropes and pole un- furled, and the craft was rigged with sails, rigging, and spars. The sails, filling with wind, tipped the vehicle forward almost upon its beam- end, and the next moment it turned square with the wind and shot away like a deer over the plain. The two savages pushing behind were thrown prostrate upon the earth in their endeavors to hold on to the craft, As they regained their feet, a yell burst from their lips. Black Wolf and his warriors turned, and to their horror and surprise beheld the rig of Old Strabismus sailing down the plain like a white winged bird—far be- -yond their reach. /CHAPTER VI. _ A SAIL OVER THE PRAIRIE. N over the level prairie glided the wheeled wind-ship of Old Strabis- mus. The wind was strong and a> steady, and as the rig carried broad sails, it traveled with lightning speed. ; They had traversed nearly a mile when the old man turned to Careless Jack, and burst into a roar of laughter. “Didn’t I fool ’em though, my ‘boy ?” he finally asked, Careless Jack was startled. He could scarcely believe that the same man was before him. His eyes, wonderful in ex: ression, were as straight as anybody’s, The nervous twitching of his mouth had disappeared, and a light—wild, rollick- ing, .and adventuresome—lit up his hitherto dull, expressionless face. “Reckon, you bardly know me?” the old man went on. “ Wal, I’m not edzactly the same game-cock that you started with. » Hawt haw! haw! didn’t I fool them redskins, though? What do yethink 0’ the Prairie Clipper? Ar’n’t she a stavin’ fine sailer? Don’t she hum, though?” “Stranger, I am~ astonished, dum- founded.” The old man went off into another fit of hearty laughter. “IT reckon you be, lad; but what do you s’pose your captors think ’bout matters? Won’t that chiefand that other white cuss spit fire, though?” “Old friend, who are you?” asked Jack. “Me? did you ever hear of Old Arkan- saw, the Traveler?” “T’ve heard of Old Arkansaw Abe, the hunter.” “Wal, that’s me—I’m that very ole clover-blossom. When I git aboard of Prairie Clipper here, then I’m the Ar- kansaw Traveler.” “Well, indeed! Iam glad I have met you, Arkansaw,” said Jack, his eyes sparkling with delight; “I’ve heard of you before.” “Ob, yes; I’m well known up and down the Ree-publican River. But this ’ere Prairie Clipper is a new thing—only a speriment; but I think it’s goin’ to be a success on this level prairie, pervidin’ you can git wind eneugh to shove her along. You see, boy, I know how to train a ship with sails; my father was a sailor. That pole thar’s a foremast, and supports that sail, which can be easily shaped or reefed for a tack. That main-sail you see thar is the main part of the rigging, and can be trimmed tocatch the wind from any quarter. Why, I can run square across the wind, but then she wouldn’t buckle down to business like she does with the wind Des free on her port. Munificence! don’t she hum? isn’t that music, though? S’pose we had a burri- pony no up behind us? Humph! why, we ive “Quite an invention, Abe,” observed Jack. “Yes, it sirers run in our family to be ’ventin’ somethin’—it’s the nature of the Goshen blood. But, boy, how come you in the redskins’ clutches,” Careless Jack narrated his adventures of the night previous, and the way he had fallen into the savages’ power. “Then you've more friends out on the Niobrara, eh?” 3 “Yes; three comrades, and an old friend named Bey.” “Bey, eh?” repeated Old Arkansaw | Abe; “do you know what he follers?” “T suppose he is a hunter; we only met last night.” ; Old Arkansaw Abe shook his head eee : A minute of silence ensued. The wind-ship sped on over the smooth prairie—rocking and reeling like a storm- tossed vessel on the deep. The redskins were left far behind, mere specks on that mighty ocean of verdure. When they were at length lost from view, Old: Arkansaw Abe veered slightly to the left, and they were soon traveling toward the South-west, though at a less rapid pace. / n the course of an hour they reached the timber bordering the Niobrara River. Here Old Arkansaw lowered his sai] and brought his wind-ship to.a stand. “Now, boy,” he said, turning to Jack, “T have doubtless saved your life, and I want you to promise me one thing before we go ets farther, that you will not re- veal one iota of what you hear, or see from this on. If yon con’t, why, we’ll have to part right here.” “Arkansaw Abe, I could never harm the hand that saved my life,” replied Care- less Jack; “I swear that I never will re- veal anything concerning you or yours.” § “Then come on,” and Old Arkansaw Abe, dismounting from his vehicle, started away through the woods drawing his wheeled boat after him by means of a a attached to the front axle. hey soon reached the river at a point where Elm Creek paid tribute to the Nio- brara. At their feet lay a light flat-boat, to which was attached a rope, the ex- tremity of which, reaching across the ‘creek, was lost to view among the dense shrubbery on the point of land formed by the juncture of the river and creek. Old Arkansaw drew his vebicle upon the boat, and then inviting Jack aboard, gave ashrill, sbarp whistle, which was immediately answered from the point. The next moment the flat-boat began to creep slowly across the creek, Jack saw my y once that it was being drawn over by ome one among the bushes on the oppo- site shore; but he asked no question. He elt certain that Old Arkansaw would ad him into no danger nor trouble. | [They soon reached the opposite shore, | 1en Old Arkansaw drew his rig ashore d concealed it hrubbery. ‘Now, boy!” he said, “foller me.” The old man led the w point and soon emerged into a little lade or opening surrounded by tall, | tately cottonwood. Beyond the glade a few rods a deep channel crossed the| oint from the river to the creek, thereby urrounding a triangular piece of land of about three acres in area, ‘This,” said Old Arkansaw, pointing to the glade before him, “is whar I live.” Jack glanced over the opening. He saw Only four large mounds overgrown with | among some dense wild cucumber and honeysuckle vines; to- | ward one of which the old man led the Way, When they reached it, he pushed aside acurtain of vines and revealed an open- ng in the side of the earthen hut. “Walkin, Jack,” he said, “take a seat and wait till I return.” It was dark inside the great, hollow mound, and it was with some strange im- aginings that Jack crossed the threshold _ to find himself alone, surrounded by heavy Walls, and in a darkness that was per- vaded only by a faint, sickly light. _, Old Arkansaw dropped the overhang- ing vines, and walked away toward one of the other mounds. Jack Kerr found a stool and sat down, _ busying himself with his thoughts. Old Arkansaw Abe formed the main subject. A queer, strange man,” said Jack to himself, Presently the old fellow came _ back, and thrust his head inside the mound. “Come, Jack! supper’s waiting us.” Jackrose, and went out. The sun was _hearly down, and the tall trees were cast- as ing their gray shadows across the glade. Ja ck glanced around him, and saw at least, half a dozen vine-covered mounds Similar to the one he had just left. «,, You see,” said Old Arkansaw Abe, _ these mounds are our habitations. They | = are built out of tough sods laid up, one Wot the other, in a bee-hive shape, We're a queer people here, boy—a relic of the past. We're the descendants of the ancient Mound Builders.” Ashe concluded, they approached one _ Of the largest mounds, from which a faint _ Wreath of smoke’ was cuiling. Pushing aside some vines and green muslin drap- ery, he led the way inside. Jack was not alittle surprised by what Met his eyes. The apartment was lit up by the sickly light of alamp. In the cen- ter of the room stood a small table loaded With wild fruits and smoking viands. A - Small stove was in onecorner. The walls, _ coming to a point overhead, were care- fully hung with a tapestry of dark cloth; - €nd upon all sides were the handiwork of Woman. And that woman—or_ rather ache girl—was there before Careless c _ . “This is Miss Rena, Jack,” said Old Ar- _ Kansaw Abe, introducing the astonished boy to the blushing maiden; “Miss Rena _ Armaund—the best gal that ever lived.” -. Rena could not haye been over sixteen years of age, yet her form was a model of perfect womanhood. Her face was al- most brown as an Indian’s, yet of eXceed- ing beauty, Her dark eyes were large and lustrous, and burning with the light of a ne sweet young soul. She was dressed n a frock resembling that of an Indian Princess, but wore few jewels_and orna- ments. . i Jack bowed gracefully to the maiden, who recognized him with asmile anda ew kind, tender words, _A moment later an old man with long, _ Snow white hair and beard entered the mound-cabin,” and was introduced to Jack as Father Armaund. % y boy, 1 greet you with love in my heart, and may God bless you,” said the old man, laying his hand upon Jack's ead. “ my boy, to the home of ; e four now sat down to. supper, Father Armaund asking the blessing in a fervent, suppliant tone. They ate in silence, Rena waiting upon the table. After their meal had been dis- patched, Old Arkansaw Abe escorted Jack Armaund and his beautiful child, Rena. wack Kerr now experienced a new feel- ;28. The presence of Armaund and the lovely Rena there filled his mind wich Tprise and wonder. He became satisfied at their life was clouded in a mystery. heir homes, their seclusion, and, i ct, their very appearance and talk bore ence of a long hidden life. Careless Jack pondered the matter over over, as he reclined upon the floor of -fnt, his eyes fixed upon vacancy, | , arkness was deep within the hut_ by Ns time. The youth could see but a dim | him | : . . ay across the | ranged his clothing, and | } | | Mr. ‘ran for a physician. The doctor GSOoonD NEws. and as the heavy, depressing influence of night drew on apace he began to feel rest- less—to long for the return of Old Arkan- saw. Suddenly a soft step sounded without. The lad’s heart leaped into his throat. He knew it was not the heavy footfall of aman, and felt certain that the fair and lovely Rena Armaund was coming to visit He rose to a sitting posture, ar- awaited her presence. The person without paused at the door. A minute passed, and*then Jack heard a hand pushing aside the curtain of vines, |and saw the blue sky beyond. -A form appeared in the opening; but it was not that of the maiden. It was a tall, half- naked form, with a tufted head, a painted body, and ringed and streaked face, Careless Jack’s blood became almost chilled and his heart trembled with fear, for he saw the intruder was a hideous Indian warrior. (L0 BE CONTINUED.) —>- 0» DANGEROUS FUN. BY W. M. —_+-_—— mM . ee NE dull and cheerless night in Feb- &% ruary, a party of five or ‘six of us were assembled at the house 4 of my grandmother, After the tea-table had been cleared away, we all set to work to amuse ourselves as best we could, by playing the game of*snake.” The game, however, soon proved dull and uninteresting, so we abandoned it for more congenial pleasure—story telling. Lottie proposed it, and the motion was unanimously carried that granny should lead off. The old lady at first demurred; but after considerable persuasion she con- sented to favor us with one, if we would wait until she put a little more coal on the fire, to which we all agreed, After the stove was duly coaled, granny took off her specks, and commenced: | “The story [ am about to tell happened a great many years-ago, before any of you were ever thought of. When I was a roung girl, about seventeen years old, I Heed with a good:old Quaker family named Halleck. The family consisted of and Mrs. Halleck, John Halleck, their son, and Mary Sprague. Mary was Mr. Halleck’s niece, his sister’s daugh- ter, and an orphan—her parents having died when she was quite young. . “She was a wild and thoughtless girl, and always ready for.a ‘spree.’ “Not far distant from Mr. Halleck’s lived a young man named Amos Jones. He called frequently at the Hallecks’, at first to see John; but it soon became ap- parent that his visits were more on ac- count of Mary. John, noticing this, often spoke to Mary, saying he guessed Amos had fallen in love with her. “ its aim, and striking the strange figure just below the neck brought him to the floor. The loud report was the signal for a general fusillade. Abruptly awakened by the familiar sound from the spell cast over them, tiie others poured a death- | dealing volley into the midst of the group crowded around the lake. For the space of a moment they stood as if paralyzed, then with incredible activity the entire body fled toward an opening on the other side of the cavern and disappeared. “Now is our chance!” shouted Gordon, starting to run across the cave to where, ‘the men were. He was immediately fol- lowed by all save the negro lad, who stood rooted to the floor with terror, It was only the work of a moment to release those in the middle of the cavern, but when old Brett, who had picked out the alparaiso,” he began. “In passing through the Straits we struck on a rock near Sandy Point, and were totally wrecked. All of the crew escaped in boats, and Janded at ‘the latter place to | wait for one of the vessels calling in for coal. While walking down the one street me, and wished to know whether I wonld join a party bound for the interior of this island to’search for treasure. sy “T thought he was joking or crazy at first, and laughed in his face, but he per-_ sisted so that I soon saw he meant what — he said, and furthermore was rece in possession of some secret which he did — not care to share with me. To make the ae short, he agreed to pay me one hun- rec jall that was found. Under that promise ~ | I came here together with four others in \a little fishing smack, which we left on — | the eastern coast.” SOS. Jack and Lovering exchanged glances, — This was the boat now anchored near the _ a couple of weeks ago a Spaniard stopped _ dollars for the trip and a share of — 7 2236 GOooD NEws. Marie. They were right in taking the precaution after all. “It was a terrible trip to the moun- tains,” resumed Clark, “At first we lost our way, and the food almost gave out. In fact, I believe if it hadn’t been fora couple of guanacas, shot on the third day, we would have been compelled to give up. The chief was a very determined man, however, and we plodded along un- til the entrance to this passage was reached. After reading a sort of docu- ment, he pronounced it the entrance to the treasure chamber. We had fetched a rope from the boat, which, together with a sort of grapnel at the end, enabled us to bridge the peculiar gulch just below here. “After crossing, the rope was removed for some reason, and stowed under some pieces of rock near by. The Spaniard was very cautious, and seemed afraid that some one would follow him, because two men were left on guard where we crossed. The rest of us came to this tunnel, and made our way in to another one runpving off to the left, Itis about half-way be- tween the entrance and the big cave, After going up that tor a short distance we got into a small room which con- tained a lot of gold and some stones which look like diamonds. “There was enough to make us all rich forty times over, but the chief wasn’t satisfied. He madeus leave it and go back into the main passage, and follow that up until we reached that awful place where we very nearly met our death,” The narrator’s voice trembled, and he paused, almost overcome at the recollec- tion. Lovering had listened to the story with deep interest until now. Rising from where he had been seated on a block of stone he walked over to Clark, and placing his hand on his shoulder said, gently: “TI want you to describe this Spaniard to me. What does he look like?” Glancing at his questioner in surprise the American answered: “Why, he’s a man about forty age; has black hair and eyes, an as if he has been sick lately.” Turning to Mr. Goodrich and Jack, the young surgeon remarked, with the least possible trace of excitement in his voice: “Just as I expected; it is our worthy mutineer, Manuel Garcia, alias Lopez!” ears of looks CHAPTER XXIX, ATTACKED | HE news did not surprise either the old gentleman or Gordon. In fact, each had a strong suspicion that the leader of the other expedition was the Spaniard. When.Clark began his recital Jack instantly divined what the result would be, and now, when the identity was proved beyond a doubt, he merely nodded his head, and_ said nothing. Not so Mr. Goodrich. Jump- ing to his feet he asked anxiously: “Who was it that escaped? - One of the sailors?” “No,” came tke reply “It was the chief—the man you probably recognize. He fled at the first intimation of danger, and managed to gain the tunnel. When we arrived at the cavern it was only par- tially lighted by some unknown means, and the place appeared empty. We noticed the peculiar cracks in the floor, and that raised pedestal, but paid no at-: tention to them. Before we had been there more than a few minutes the two guards left at the gulch came in, and told the chief they had seen a man on the other side. The information seemed to scare him, and he went back with them, leaving us in the cave. He returned in about two hours very much excited. We looked all around trying to find another cavern he said was here, but ny had to give it up. He then said we would try that first tunnel again, and started to leave. “The rest of us were just on the point of following when we were set upon by a crowd of those little fiends, who, despite our efforts, overpowered us. Instantly seeing the danger, the chief, who was nearest the entrance, darted away, and escaped. You know what followed.” “T don’t like the idea of that scoundrel being free on the island,” said Mr. Good- rich, thinking of the yacht. “Itis my opinion he is caught in a trap, and if Wilkins or Shannon don’t shoot him we are liable to run across the fellow somewhere below here,” replied George. ‘“And, by the way, itis just as well to keep a careful lookout, or he’ll pot oné of us.” ' “What about this gold?” suddenly asked Jack, looking from one to the other.“ We are surely not going to leave without trying to obtain it,” “Not much!” exclaimed Lovering, de- cidedly. “But I think Clark here has something to say about it. Without him we would probably have never discov- ered its whereabouts.” “And without your aid in securing it the treasure would remain in the cave,” quickly replied the American. “No, I lay claim to my share only, If it is decided to return and make another trial I am willing to go with you, although, to tell the truth, I don’t like the job. All the gold on earth wouldn’t draw me there alone.” The significant shudder with which he concluded the sentence proved the truth of his assertion. Mr. Goodrich did not appear over- pleased either, although he gave his con- sent when spoken to on the subject by Jack, As for old Brett, he had no opinion one way or the other, and said he was | simply there to obey orders. The three men with Clark utterly refused to go past the entrance, and nothing the rest could say altered their determination. This was liable to prove a serious quandary. It would not do to leave them go down the passage and rejoin Garcia, thereby giving that individual sufficient force to cause trouble, nor did they care to split up their party, but one of the two plans would have to be adopted. After some consideration it was decided to place them under charge of old Brett and Sam. The negro lad hailed the de- cision with joy, as the prospect of again encountering the people of the crater was Lovering was the first to move, Bend- ing over he passed in, and with a curt “Come on,” crept steadily ahead. Slightly ashamed, the others followed him, and after a short walk in that uncomfortable position reached a more extended space. “The place was light enough when we were here before,” whispered Clark, after stating that the cavern had finally been reached, “I don’t know what to make of this darkness; it looks ominous, We had better get what we want and leave at once.” The rest heartily.agreed with him, and at his advice commenced searching the apartment for the treasure. He said they would find the gold lying about in lumps | ornuggets scattered in a haphazard fash- ion. As for the precious stones, they were mixed in the same mass. An exclamation from Mr. Goodrich in- dicated that he had found something, then Jack, uttering a cry of excitement, fell upon his knees and commenced to fill his knapsack with the fragments which seemed to literally cover the floor. For the space of a moment the silence was only broken by the sounds of heavy breathing or an occasional gasp from the hurrying men, then suddenly and with- out warning a vivid light dispelled the fast resolving him into a quaking imbe-/| darkness, and before their eyes, dazzled cile, by the change, could see their danger, As it now stood, the party to re-enter | the cave was filled by the natives of the the interior consisted of Mr. Goodrich, Jack, Lévering, and Clark, amply sufli- cient to secure enough gold for all, and perfectly able to defend themselves in case the number arrayed against them was not overwhelming. Three knapsacks were taken along to be used in transporting the treasure, Each man discarded his rifle, but carried two revolvers instead, with plenty of ammu- nition. During the few minutes occupied with preparations the old gentleman briefly explained to the American what had occurred during and after the revolu- tion. “Tf IT had known the character of the man, I would never have joined the expe- dition,” said Clark, in reply. “He treated me fairly well, but he probably would have murdered us all im some manner after obtaining the gold.” “Not the slightest doubt of it,” agreed Lovering. “The man is crazy, literally insane over the treasure, and instead of being satisfied with a legitiiate share of it, kills people right and left to get it all. He is now receiving his reward.” After giving strict orders to Brett about keeping a close watch for Garcia, the party entered the tunnel and walked steadily ahead for several hundred yards. Then, after halting a moment to see everything in readiness for a possible at- tack, they continued, but more cautiously, The interior was now pitch dark, not even the faint, peculiar glow noticeé dur- ing the previous journey being visible. Even the heat had grown less, and it was far easier to breathe, all of which ren- dered the interior far more comfortable, No attempt was made at conversing, but each bent his energies in following the winding and tortuous passage without coming in contact with the walls. After .walking what seemed to bea uarter of a mile Clark, who had taken the lead, paused, and said, in®a low tone? “Wemust be near the opening. It is somewhere along here, on the left side,” “Tf we could only strike a match it would help us greatly,” remarked Mr, Goodrich. “That would never do sir,” replied George, quickly. “The light would bring those little fiends down on us without a moment’s warning. No; we had better each search the wall, but be caretul to avoid being separated.” While the young surgeon was speaking Jack slipped away, and feeling along the rough stone suddenly ran his hand into a cavity. Making a momentary inspection he found that it onlv extended a little over four feet from the floor and seemed of about the same width. Acquainting the others of his discovery in a few hasty words he asked Clark if the tunnel was of that size. “Yes; this must be it,” he replied. “I forgot to tell you it was only a low, nar- row cut, but by stooping slightly you can pass through. Thecave is only a minute’s walk from here, straight ahead.-The new tunnel don’t zigzag like this one,” For the first time since leaving the outer crevice the party hesitated. Here was the gate-way to a treasure which would bring them boundless wealth; all that remained to be done was to walk a short distance farther, and then load themselves with what one of their num- ber had declared to be pure virgin gold— that mightiest of metals which has gilded the thoughts of avaricious man since time immemorial—and yet they wavered. With all their bravery of spirit the startling events of the day had had their effect. The scene in the cavern, not two hours’ past, remained pictured before them, and they felt, one and all, as if entering the spereurs was like closing the portals of the outer world forever. crater. CHAPTER XXX, THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE. AHE attack was so unexpected that 2 it found two of the party kneeling on the floor busily engaged in fill- ing their knapsacks with the pre- cious metal. Gordon and Lovering had just finished, and slung the bags over their shoulders when the sudden illumin- ation of the cavern occurred. Before the others could arise they were i surrounded by scores of the little sav- ) ages, 2nd in an instant a desperate hand to hand struggle began, Mr. Goodrich was borne prostrate at first, actually weighed down by overwhelming num- bers, but wrestling with a strength in- credible in one of his age, succeeded in freeing his arms. Drawing a revolver he fired rapidly at those near him, and managed to force his way to Clark’s side. The latter had Heads py: erect, drag- ging with him four or five of the attack- ing force, who clung to his back and limbs with the tenacity of wild beasts. Seizing one around the waist he lifted him over his head with a power born of desperation, and hurled the living mis- sile into the ranks of the savages, knock- ing them down like nine-pins. The cave resounded with the din of con- flict. Revolver shots following each other in rapid succession, their spitful reports echoing from wall to wall in one unceas- ing volley; the short gasps of the men as they fought in the unequal! struggle, and above all that strange, grewsome chant of the natives, formed a pandemonium impossible to describe. At the first onslaught Jack had turned, ‘and with one bound placed himself back to back with Lovering. Giving a sweep with his right arm he cleared a circle, and oe rapidly killed three of his as- sailants before they could crowd in again, Hearing a sharp cry he faced about, and was just in time to see theold gentleman stagger and fall. With a superhuman effort the middy wrenched himself free from those imme- diately around him, and kicking, strik- ing, wrestling, managed to cross the in- tervening space separating him from Mr. Goodrich. He was apparently just in time. The savages had succeeded in pass- ing a coil of some queer looking material around the prostrate form, and were in the act of tightening it when Gordon sprang in their midst. His revolver was empty, but grasping it by the barrel he launched out right and left with telling force. The young surgeon, seeing his move, had followed just behind, and standing close ‘together they continued the gallant fight over the almost inanimate body of their friend. In the meantime Clark had not been idle. He was a muscular young fellow, bred in a school of hard knocks and self reliance, but when he saw the perilous trap into which they had fallen he knew that nothing short of a miracle could save them. Still following that natural instinct which caused even the timid doe to turn at bay, he fought with unfailing courage, and gradually edging his wa to the rocky wall beat off the foe wit lusty blows. It could not last much longer, There seemed to be no end to the natives. As fast as one would go down another would take his place, and although without weapons, they promised to conquer by sheer force of numbers. The mysterious light which, coming from some unknown source, rendered the caves bright as day still continued. There was a weirdness about its glow which made the scene like a page from the “Inferno,” and caused! ae the combatants to feel as if ‘they werek battling with demons from world. The peculiar appearance of the natives themselves, with their small, ape-like bodies and that queer scaly covering like! the hideous folds of a rhinoceros skin,} also had its effect. It was only the ex) treme short range which made the leaden” bullets penetrate their natural armor, 4 eS but as it was the revolvers of the brought a full score to the the final struggle. While fighting side by side with the young surgeon Jack managed to gasp: “It will soon be over, old fellow. We can’t stand the pace much longer, I—J feel my legs giving out, but don't give up the ship, don’t give——” The sentence was lost in one grand effort of the brave lad. Hastily picking up Clark’s knapsack lying at his feet, laden with its heavy contents, he grasped} the leathern strap, and struck one mighty blow at those in front of him. The effect was terrific. The novel weapon literally mowed al swath. in the advancing line. Seeing hig party ground before® another@ advantage Jack took heart, and calling® . to the others to follow him forced hiss way over the bodies of the fallen tor where he had suddenly caught sight off E the tufinel entrance. The combined efforts of the three fight. ae ing together in a small space had kept™ the natives back far enough to enable™ Mr. Goodrich to scramble erect ‘again.| When the middy started away from the others they immediately saw what he) was aiming at, and tried their utmost tol follow him, ‘ Inch by inch, over the rocky floor,) strewn with its wealth of gold, they) went, until at last, almost exhausted by” the terrible strain, they reached the aper- 7 ture leading from the cavern. stacle. Jack was still in \the lead, and after he had finally forced his way into the passage he gave the knapsack to the™| old gentleman, who was just behind himyag and used his fists instead, The American brought up the rear,) hard pressed by the discomfited natives. | Seeing the prey slipping out of their grasp they redoubled their efforts, but Clark kept them off successfully, and backed after his companions, f After what seemed an eternity of time they reached the outer tunnel. As they) gradually left the eavern behind the light) faded until it at last merged into dark-) ness again. The change was welcome, | however; with the disappearance of the) unearthly glow went their pursuers.” Silently and as mysteriously as_ they® came the natives vanished, leaving the® sorely tried men to stumble along the™ winding passage into the freedom of the® outer world. Old Ben Brett, waiting patiently near” the entrance with Sam and the Spaniards § close at hand, was suddenly startled by seeing four bent and staggering figures | prone® crawl through the opening and fall on the stone strewn floor, “Water, man; give us water!” gasped | one, the middy, raising himself on his” elbow. Then grasping the canteen ex- — tended by the horrified sailor, he passed ™ it to Mr. Goodrich. The old gentleman | moutbsful, 7 and returned it to Jack, who gulped 7 eagerly swallowed several down the remainder with a sigh of satis- faction. cooling liquid. Stretched out on the ground, they © rested blissfully for five minutes, only 7 uttering an occasional word of direction ¥ to Ben or the boy. A cold wind sweeping ~ the passage refreshed them ™ and they were soon able to 7 ok at each other with an ex- © pression of mutual congratulation and | through ames sit up and lo thankfulness. The first thing to receive attention were 7 the three knapsacks and their contents. ~ As the reader will remember, one each ~ had been brought out by Jack and Lover: 4 ing; then the one Clark had partly filled | carried 7 through the main tunnel by Mr. Good- | —the middy’s weapon — was rich, who, notwithstanding his wild race for safety, had clung to the precious bur- 7 den with unfaltering determination. Too worn out and exhausted to remove them, both Jack and the young surgeon © had taken their much needed rest with the bags still on their backs, slowly casting off the straps, dropped them carefully to the and lifting the flaps gazed within, An involuntary cry of amazement and | joy burst from their lips, echoed by Mr, | Goodrich and the others who had crowded © around. And this is what they saw. (TO BE CONTINUED.) a te Ot ee INSECTS can live several daysina vacuum. © In the meantime the negro lad © had hurried to the assistance of Lovering ~ and Clark with another canteen of the 7 Now, ‘a they ground, a ve d caused} hey werell another™ ape-like ring like! ros skinjq the ex.s 1e leaden” | armor, he party id before® we vith theme gasp: gg Iw. We er, I~ n't give e grand Picking his feet, grasped »mighty he effect owed agme eing hisa THE RE 4). MAT MERRIMAN ABROAD” was commenced in No. 151. ©ws Agents.) CHAPTER VI. CAPTAIN FIREBRAND, S Mrs. Payne obeyed the command Joey, and answered the sum- mons at the front door, Mat re- of SQ to show you that we are not what Tf we have enemies, we have calling = <~ ~marked rced hist, len tome Wish ight of™@pe We seem, » 4lso friends,” e fighte" d kept® enable® again, @e {Can b om theme Surry away hat he most to® their” And” Joey Payne bowed’ with mock an obs gm 8tavity and deference, d, and | Captain Firebrand at your service!” ry into repeated the man, who was known in the to them eelshborhood by the name of Payne. d himgay Nd it strikes me, gentlemen, that we BF Bball make very good pais!” rear,a ™ Whalley and Mat exchanged utives, | Blances, their ae : Should they, or should they not, place ‘3, butt hemselyes at the mercy of one who had » and Tecently threatened their lives—indeed, @e *°wn himself to be a thief and a mur- time Mm “ener? they me _.Vhat was this man—a smuggler ora light Pirate? dark-9 Probably a little of both! come, aa.” ey were in his power. f thea € knew the amount of wealth in their suers. ame P°SSession, and was now only deterred they i joe robbing them because he thought 2 them that they had friends in the neighbor- > thee ood who knew where they were at pres- f them. ©X% secreted. | .if they consented to go aboard his ves- near@@me °°! What would be their chances a thou- iards Sand miles from land? d by i Y€ are not particularly anxious about zures ~ your Services,” Mat said, indifferently. prone ~~, nce you have shown yourself to be a Z 4 “ut-throat and a thief, I assure you we 4A isped | fan dispense——” 1. his i b Avast there!” thundered Captain Wire- |THE HAIR ON THE HEAD OF CAPTAIN FIREBRAND TICKLED AT THE ROOTS, AND HIS n ex WR 8nd. “Who is speaker of the party— EYES BULGED WITH HORROR. ssed We °YS or men? I don’t choose to deal with 2m an ee Ou. It is like this—you may have friends| “I want you to leave all to me, as you] your fates are sealed. I want that sful, ; Sutside of here and you may not; but it’s | always do when we are pushed into a cor- | packet, boy. Toss it this way,” and he iIped i . l the same tome. If I like to turn|ner. I will take all the boast out of this | held out his hand. ; atis- ies ene 1+ can put the lot of you out of|man. He shall ultimately be mesmerized,| Our hero indulged ina well-assumed fit > lad ¥ rent before anybody can enter my place.}and I shall virtually be captain of the|of laughter, at the same time pocketing ring tl tell you another thing. I am disposed | Tiger, if the crew are only obedient _to | the notes. é : the We <° “eal fair and above board if you act|the commands of Firebrand,” Mat said,| “You have not yet heard me,” he said. ey psibly. I’11 do my part honestly; if you|in low tones. “We want tosail in your vessel, We they © Consent to sail in the Tiger; but if} “Ha! then you think we had better con- have taken quite a fancy to you, captain— only © 8u don’t consent I shall make you go, as} sent to sail with the villain?” in fact, you are one of my disciples, He, tion © am not disposed to let free those who| “Most decidedly so. Of what use are|he, he!” s 7 ping ae or too much of me and-my calling. In| we at large in Liverpool? Only certain of] Firebrand laughed uneasily, and then hem ae 228t case I shall take your money, and | immediate arrest. Of course, if you pre- | stared at the strange, wild-eyed boy. 2 to : Probably put your carcasses, well-| fer being quit of this man, I can mésmer- Was he mad? ex-Sa ye Shted, into a few fathoms of water, | ize him and make him set us free, only in “Your disciple?” he sneered. “ What do and = YOu go of your own free will, I will be| that case we areas bad off as ever we you mean? I’ve no time to be an actor in Se tent with half the notes, and we|were. By adopting my idea we get a|this farce. All I know is that I mean to rere Will be Sworn pals. As for your friends | vessel which shal] take us just where we| have that money, and also to drop you nts. aa outside, I don’t care that for ’em!”| desire to go. Do you see?” where there is no chance of your ever be- ach me Nd he Snapped his fingers contempt-| “If you can manage it, all well and traying me. You arearaying idiot! Your rer: ~ ously, good,” Mr. Whalley replied, “Go ahead, | eyes express it.” lled Rar: Whalley looked uncomfortable; | and do not hesitate at anything you con- “Do you know"what Iam?” pursued the ried © pe a Blunt Spat upon his hands; and Alf | sider necessary for the furtherance of the boy. “Do you know my power? My ser- od- Mme tson edged closer to our hero, upon|plan by waiting to consult me. I leave} vants will obey my slightest wish. I have ace We +; 0Se face was a look of set determina. | all to you, unconditionally. Of what use| but to wave my hand and this house ure 7 p/n, should we be without you? And this is} would be surrounded ; but it does not suit 4 at Captain Firebrand,” he smiled, sar-| probably only the beginning of a series of | me to do that. No. no. I have a mind to ove. Ea 8Stically, “your threats are as harmless} remarkable adventures.” sail with Captain Firebrand,” eon © = pl your blustering self, and we shall| Mat laughed, saying: Firebrand giared at Mat in doubt and ith # bt fase ourselves what we do. The situa-| “I hope so.” fear, for he was a superstitious man, and Ww, «Wants a little consideration——” “Now, then,” grumbled Captain Fire- | had not yet forgotten the six knocks upon hey Ee not Vast!” roared Firebrand. “Have I| brand, “how much longer are you going | the door. 3 . : ‘s nd, box. told yon to keep your tongue quiet, |to parley there? He, he! I think you are} “TI don’t believe in your power,” he a Ras deal only with the man whose fairly trapped—you and that pile of bank- | growled. “Prove it, and tell me what ind a Cket is full of bank-notes. Interrupt} notes. Time’s up.” you are.” : fr. Bain at your peril,” and he fingered his} “Don’t be in a hurry, captain,” retorted|” Bor some time our hero had been ar- led frenye? Significantly, “In the mist of} Mat. “Impatience is not a good quality,” ranging that the publican he had recently | ser betr : Ty Yo tes 8 ted that no F pur hero had taken care to make the pub- ang the door and immediately again—the ayne was altogether changed. w4© pitched his revolver on one side. hake hands,” he said. “I will never There You people I can't m With you and me it i & dozen of the other. ing, and so am I. and whe ay you. if you pay Same time She will find no one there. Pon the return of his wife, who as- re you like. I am Captain Firebrand !” S, yet far enough away from help.” u had better hand me the bank- » Sir,” Mat advised GOoonDdD NEwSs. (THIS STORY WILL NOT BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK-FORM.} The brief consultation over, Mat and Mr. Whalley returned to their seats. “Well,” demanded Firebrand, “what is the result of this useless waste of time? | Materially it alters nothing, whatever ‘you like to think about it, only if you | are agreeable to my proposals, so much ithe better for you. It will save your lives, anyway. I’m listening.” “Which your ears are very fine and OR MARKABLE ADVENTURES OF A MESMERIST. By HARVEY HICKS, Author of ‘Mat Merriman, the Mesmerist.” | history, from asses upward, which you | are—— “Hush !” commanded Mat, for he noted a dangerous gleam in the eyes of Firebrand, as his fingers wandered about the trigger of the revolver he kept in readiness for use, if needed. “That fool must keep a civil tongue, if : I allow the boy to be cheeky,” he hissed. Back numbers can be obtained of all) « Now then, to business, and let me see | what lam to expect. I’ve been too lax look. “This valiant captain may then be; already; ir aa ta es disposed to deal with me as the youthful; “Impatient again,” said Mat. “Well, leader of the party. we will not keep you longer in suspense, “One moment,” he added, turning to/ In the first place, see here —holding up Firebrand as coolly as possible, “we will| the packet of bark-notes—“I m the leader retire to a corner of this room to ex-|of this party, and I am the criminal the change views.” law is in search of. With me you must “Curse your exchanges,” said Firebrand. : negotiate——" nee “But there—I give you permission, not | Negotiate!” ejaculated Firebrand, that anything but what I desire will be! furiously, “negotiate with you! I negoti- of any use to you, cheeky young sprig!” | ate with noone! My terms are absolute Mat rose, and Mr>.Whalley tremblingly | surrender. I admire your cheek and cool- I merely followed him, the eyes of the smuggler, ness, but both must be the outcome of ig- captain watching their every movement. | norance. “We are in a fearful strait, do you not| thus! Had you agreed at once, I was con- think so, my boy!” Mr. Whalley whis- | ree wits half the notes. | the lot! | one was at the door—for Now, I want Hand them over, and I swear you shall not be injured, MHesitate, and demeanor of pered. “Here is the packet of notes. Now, give me an idea of your opinion,” is something abou} ake out. I can see s six of one and half You are masquer- Let us be friends, 1 I will take you me wel Firebrand had begun to be amused by the hoy’s impudence, and conld not help admiring his coo] contempt of threats mesmerized, and who was, and would be, under his supreme control until he dis- Mr. Whalley, at solved the spell, should act.as his tool. large,” remarked Bob Blunt, “and I says | | so, being a gentleman as studies natural | No sane person would beard me | ple are fascinating to me. 24237 at the front door of the house, which was quite enough to make him do his will. “Dare you deny my control of the dark imps?” exclaimed Mat, glaring tipon the astonished Firebrand. “ Will you say that I am a mere mortal, and cannot command you? Dare you express a doubt that IJ can- not summon aid to thwart the plans of one whom the Father of Evil would | scorn?” | “Very pretty,” sneered the captain, nervously, and calling for his wife. “But Iam still skeptical. Bring forward one of your assistants by the magic wave of your hands. Ho! wife,” he added, as the woman came in. “Can you see any like- ness to an imp in yon boy? He promises to summon the devil! Hi, presto! Ha, ha, ha! See, now, how he paws the air, and mutters——” Mat held up his hand for silence, and on the instant there was a reverberating crash at the front door. The hair on the head of Captain Fire- brand tickled at the roots, and his eyes bulged with horror—all his superstitious nature aroused. “Who, and what are you?” he gasped. “Begone! I want not your company !” “Iam more than mortal,” laughed Mat. “That is pretty evident; and as you have determined that we sail in the Tiger, why, of course, we will.” “You may go,” Firebrand hollowly. “Go! I do not want y not have you.” “You will!” declared the boy, fixing | his lurid eyes on those of the smuggler, “You will, and I make you my slave.” The eyes of Captain Firebrand almost started from their sockets, and he beat the air furiously with his hands, in his endeavor to conquer the will that was surely enwrapping and absorbing the free- dom of his mind. At the sound of the noise on the door his wife had left the room, being a strong nerved woman, and suspecting trickery, but was not a little surprised to see the change in the captain when she returned. “Beds for these gentlemen,” he said. “And every comfort at hand. Mind, they are my guests, and must be treated as such, I have learned something.” “Joe, is this all_right?’ she asked, a little doubtfully. “You look a bit queer.” “Do as_I tell you,” ne returned, decis- Ake “There is a fortune in these peo- @5" r In half an hour our adventurers were comfortably reposing in a double-bedded room, and seeking that rest which they so much needed. returned, ou—lI will CHAPTER VII. FINAL ARRANGEMENTS—THE START. S APTAIN FIREBAND was effectu- € ally mesmerized, and at the mercy of our hero. In.a few minutes Mat had elicit- ed from him the nature of his calling, = the number of men who followed his ag. ; Professedly they were smugglers and contrabandists, but when afloat did not scruple to attack a small craft likely to recompense them for the risk and trouble: So much having been learned, and as- sured of their safety, our friends retired to bed and slept peacefully until morn- ing, Mat, of course, explaining the situ- ation to his companions. All. were inthe best of spirits after a good night's rest, and met Firebrand at a well-served breakfast table, prepared to discuss with him the necessity-of an im- mediate voyage. To all that was proposed he could not help but acquiesce, much to the surprise of his wife. “You must calla meeting of your hands to-night, and make ready to sail a couple of days hence,” our hero told him authori- tatively. “And mind it is done at once.” The captain bowed submissively, and during the day the adventurers matured their plans. “Escape is assured,” Mat said. “And we are virtually in command of a vessel to take us where we will. Now for the destination. Have we any reason to alter our original] plans? This must be decided now, so that I can shape the conversation for to-night.” “To visit Africa,” Mr. Whalley said, “has been the dream of my life. I have reasons for desiring to do so—reasons which I have not yet given voice to. My father was lostin the Dark Continent. He_ went out as a missionary and mys- teriously disappeared from among his party. The news killed my mother, but I have an inward conviction that, old man as he is, he still lives. Apart from this, the study of Africa, and the mys- tery that enshronds the origin of its peo- Where could we go in preference?” “Nowhere,” said Mat. “I think we are all agreed upon that.” “T are,” declared Bob Blunt. “Not _as the stupendous edication I has got needs any comprovement, which, to speak in giving him a knowing| which usually made men quake with fear, | Therefore he desired the man’s presence the langwidge of the pote, is conflicting, * ” this vessel? oe vo* bhink to have control of things prett sd - 2438 “And wherever Mat goes Tam willing to follow,” said Watson. During the day Firebrand was busy col- lecting bis men; andin the evening a score of fellows were congregated in the dining-room of the mysterious house. They were a rough set of mixed nation- ality, and eyed our friends curiously, though there was no trace of suspicion, for they had the utmost confidence in their leader. When Firebrand took his place at the head of the table, there was subdued ap- plause, and imitating his example, each man partook of a draught of liquor which was set before him, “Lads,” said the captain, “good news is the best kind of sauce to a good dinner, such as the missus has placed before us, and I have called you together somewhat hurriedly to, tell you something which will aid your digestion. Business has been slack enough lately, for suspicions of all sorts have been leveled against our innocent little craft. However, I think we are in for aslice of luck, without fear- ing the eyes of the law or showing aclean pair of heels to the first cruiser who wants to overhaul us. The gentlemen to whom 1 beg to introduce you know the exact latitude of an island of gold, near to the African coast, but fearing the dis- covery may be made by others, desire to take possession at once, and offer toshare and share alike. To prove that there is no doubt about this they will present to each of you a five-pound note as an earn- _ est of what is to follow.” This little fiction having been delivered . according to Mat’s desires —for, of course, he put every word into the captain’s mouth—he threw the twenty bank-notes to Firebrand, who at once distributed them among his enthusiastic crew. Orders were then given for the Tiger to be ready to put to seain twenty-four hours. We will not weary our readers by enter- ing into the details of the next day, for aon those incidents which are of inter- est, and which bear directly on the story will be mentioned. The probable wants of the future were discussed, and, through the medium of Firebrand, supplied, and long letters were written to their friends. = Seen by none but the glittering stars in the dark sky,a party of eight left Fire- pbrand’s mysterious house, the smalf back yard of which was within a hundred feet of an arm of water fed by the Rive ~ Mersey. 4 The margin reached, the captain gave - vent to a low whistle, the reply to which was the plash of a not far-distant oar, and from under the gloomy shadow of a huge factory a boat shot forward contain- ing two oarsmen. '“ All is well?” Captain Firebrand said, interrogatively. “ c a 3” “Then in with you, lads, and away. Keep silent until we get out of the stream.” Two of the party who accompanied Fire- brand besides our adventurers took oars, and under the guidance of the third, who was a sort of lieutenant, pulled with long and steady strokes. The novelty of the situation was of a ‘ romantic and peculiar interest to Mat and Alf, the very mystery and silence adding a charm fascinating tothe mimd of youth. For an hour the oarsmen’s strokes beat upon the water, but now the ripples had become graceful swells, and the boat rose and fell with seductive movements. “See yon hull aber te darkly against the sky?” Firebrand said, in our hero's ear. VE AO. “That is the Tiger, one of the trim- mest little coasters you ever clapped eyes upon. The word ‘coaster’ I use advisedly, though she has seen the waters of the Pa- cific, the Atlantic, and the Indian Ocean more than once, and in a gale is as tight as.a bottle.” — The lieutenant, or mate, at this junc- ture showed a’ green light, which had hitherto heen concealed in a dark lan- tern; and the signal having been satis- factorily responded to, the boat shot _ under the vessel’s bows, and the whole party were soon aboard. pre Preparations were immediately made for an early departure, and the fires under the boilers roared and the steam seethed merrily. ; é “We are free,” Mr. Whalley said, with delight—“free, and shal) soon be plow- ing the Irish Sea. Weare free, and my great dream is to be accomplished. Oh, Mat, I do not think that fortune has been altogether unkind tous! We have - endured much, but does not this repay all a thousand times? One point I wish to clear. Will your power over the mind of Captain Firebrand interfere with his own duties—that is, the proper command of not. Anyway, the mate seems much, so IT do not anticipate any trouble on that core. The men knew for where we are a knife and revolver each?” COOD bound, and when we get out of the chops of the Irish Sea and St. George’s Channel I hope we shall have a quick and com- fortable run.” “And what then, Mat?” “The place of landing I leave for you to decide, as I know nothing of Africa.” “It is a glorious place,” laughed Wat- son—“deserts, forests, lions, tigers, and cannibals, on the most magnificent scale. Bob, how shall you like to be served up as the delicacy for a small dinner-party?”’ “Can such heathenism consist?” ejacu- lated Blunt, “which will not at all suit the manners of a edicated Englishman. Why, it is worse than the French, which I learned in my jography, eat frogs and snails.” And for once in his life he looked grave. “Some of the African cannibals do not even trouble to cook their prisoners, but greedily tear the. flesh from the bones of the unfortunate who falls into. their hands, and enjoy it while it is quivering and warm,” Mr. Whalley said. Mat and Alf shuddered, and Bob con- soled himself with the reflection that he should be rather tough, in the event of his flesh coming into contact with Afri- can teeth. “Let us hope that Providence will not forget us,” Mr. Whalley fervently re- sponded, adding: “I have already duly considered the matter of landing, and should prefer to go to Cape Colony, from whence we can go where we please. I have various inquiries to make there, and we shall also be able to get reliable in- formation on other matters in connection with our proposed explorations. If we can get a couple of native servants to act as guides we shall find them of immense advantage in the way of warning us against poisonous fruits, andthe wild beasts of. the country, whose habits they aré so conversant with.” “Oh, this sounds jolly!” laughed Wat- son. “Of course, we shall be armed with actually “Rather.” é “Can't we pepper away at the monarch of the jungle, if he pokes hisstriped head into our affairs.” ‘ “Which I believes as you is referring to the tiger, according to the knowledge which my edication communicates to me,” said Bob. “Right. you~ are, smiled Mat. “But- what about disposing brand,” proceeded Mr. Whalley, “when he can be of no further use to us?” “Oh, that is easy enough! If we want to be rid of him we can pay him a fair sum for his services, and send him home again. However, don’t you think there is plenty of time: yet for this to be ar- ranged?” “You are right, my boy. We are count- ing our chickens much too early. We are not in Africa yet. Hallo! the Tiger is in motion. hag oh, learned one !” of Fire’ * We are off! “Yes, we are off!” the mate said, in their ears, and, turning away, muttered: “And Ihave heard a little I don’t like. Pay us and get rid of us, eh? What can that mean? No, no. Trickery won’t suit ri and all. There's something behind this.” ; (TO BE CONTINUED.) ——__-_- + 6 <> -—_—----— A LIVE HERO. oo BY M, T. CALDOR. THOSE days have gone by. There v isn’t much chance for a fellow now.” “That's so. Heroism is at a dis. “7 count where everything is a steady grind at money-making.” . “Courage, the noblest attribute of the manly nature, is altogether ignored by the education of the nineteenth century.” All these remarks were delivered with an air of deep earnestness and of pro- found wisdom. I need hardly say the speakers were three youths. j They were to take their leave of a rather noted academy at its a ee graduation day,- having already passe a sterner ordeal of college examina- tions. Consequently, if an question concern- ing their ability to discuss and decide any of the important problems of the day had anywhere arisen it was certainly neither of their own minds which had conceived so preposterous an idea. They were strolling home from the academy, and had paused to rest upon a shady bank by the wayside. Three handsome lads, from luxurious and cultured homes, as was plain to be seen. Harry Converse, mere the leading spirit of the group, thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out a package of cigarettes, “2 “Let’s have a smoke, boys,” he said, as he passed them around, The cigarettes were scarcely lighted | afraid of a few heartless jeers shall I ‘the promise, I grant you that when I did NEWS. when a firm, quick step sounded along the road-side. “It’s Len Morrell, what he meant when master to-day?” “Apropos to our subject, let us ask him,” answered Harry, and called out: “Here, Len! you're the fellow for our discussion. We're talking over to day’s lesson, you see. You said there that you believe there was as much heroism now as in the grand old days. You're in the minority, man. Whatcan you possibly show to prove your assertion?” The lad thus addressed hesitated a moment before he joined the group. He had a pale, thin face, and a form too slender and willowy for its height; but his eyes were bright and clear, and his broad, full forehead suggested an ample supply of brains behind it. te was not one of their chums, as these young men had taken pains to show him, therefore he was a little reluctant to join their discussion. But he paused, and with a deprecating smile said: “IT don’t think it’s worth your while to ascertain ny opinions: they are of little account. But I certainly hold that we have just as much that is truly heroic now as ever in the world’s history. Per- haps the style bas changed, Our knights don’t go about looking up distressed damsels, any more than they whack at windmills, But I contend that we have plenty of latent heroism. Why, lads, I should think that the last war ought to have settled that question forever,” “The last war? Humph! yes; but that’s in the past, with all the rest. But now, here in the present—come, show us fel- lows who go off to college in September, where there’s a chance for us to be brave, gallant, heroic,” “Yes, yes; that’s your task, »Show us that,” echoed the others. And the three young men exehanged triumphant glances as they nonchalantly puffed forth the silver rings of smoke from their fresh young lips. Leonard Morrell looked at them wist- fully, and his voice was a little un- steady, as he replied: “Indeed, I can't think my opinions will have any weight with you, but I surely see enough there to require all the strength and courage I possess. There are giants inthe way, before whom I must cross my sword. I do not deny that even now my heart quails at the ordeal before me.” aS, “You? What! are you going to cal. lege?” asked Harry, in surprise. ‘So my-mother and I have decided. At first we did not see the way clear; but now I am totry the September ex- aminations,” he modestly answered. Again the others exchanged glances, od § then you have been thinking about college life, Len; you have gone over the ound. Come, take a cigarette and sit own with us, and explain your ideas ee clearly,” spoke Jim Turner, coax- ngly. ~The package of cigarettes was held toward him, but young Leonard shook his head, and flushing a little, answered: “No, thank you, Jim. You know I am black-balled from the club because I won’t smoke, There’s the first giant to confront me when I go to college, and a brawny one itis. I have wrestled with him often enough already, and never feel sure I am not yet to be overcome. A fel- low needs the best sort of bravery to stand up against him.” “We've argued that before,” said Ned Willis, rather contemptuously. “You never tried to prove that it was wrong or injurious, but fell back upon—apron- strings. You had promised your mother not to smoke.” : “Now look here, Len,” spoke up Harry | in a most patronizing tone, “if you are thinking of going to college I can tell you what, you'll have to smoke, And the less you have to say about a woman's leading, you the better it will be for you.” Young Leonard threw back his head, and a flash leaped into his eyes. “And you declare there is no chance for heroism and bravery,” he cried. “If I prove a poltroon and a coward [I shall smoke, not otherwise. Because I am Harry. I wonder he auswered the break my promise and wound my mother’s heart? She is a good woman, and I think I can also say a wise woman. She has seen the blighting effects of tobacco upon a constitution like mine, and because she loves me so devotedly, because I am herall in the world, she implores me not to yield_to the foolish and tyrannical habit. I have given her so I did not realize how hard it would be to resist the importunity and ridicule that awaits those who stand aloof from the almost universal custom. But I have promised. AmIthe coward for keeping yee or in breaking it?” e spoke passionately, and looked eagerly into their faces for his answer. ~ “Come now, Len, do you think it’s a nice thing to give the rein to a mother in that way. Just think how foolish women ‘ are, how cruel in their very love. Why, they’d have us keep away from water for fear of drowning. They tremble if you touch a gun. They wouldn’t even have their boys climb a tree for fear of falls. What sort of a molly coddle would a fel- low be brought up just as his mother wished to have him?” argued Harry. “That is not my mother,” returned Leonard, proudly. “She was anxious for me to learn toswim. She gave me my father’s gun, though I remember how pale she was, when I was only a little fellow, although I had a good sportsman to teach me its use. She is all the time saying that she wants me to be a true, brave man. She is never weary of making sacrifices for my sake. It is little enough ~ in return for me to make her happy, even | if I were assured there could be no harm in smoking. shall keep my word through college as well as through the academy. And—I—think—it often would be much easier to leap into the Tiber, or to rush into the fire of battle, and have done with it. But I told you that it was of no use for me to talk about it. I knew my opinions would be of no consequence. And I ought to hurry home.” “Tomother! dear little mother’s dar- | ling!” sneered Jim Turner, “Runright | along, sonny.” Leonard flushed even to the roots of the chestnut curls which waved about his forehead. His hands involuntarily clenched themselves into a tolerably stout fist, but in another moment he slowly turned, and, without a word, walked off, The laughter of three mocking voices followed him. : “A regular milksop,” said Harry, con- eae “No wonder he thinks there is heroism abroad in the land. Any one who dares act for himself must be a hero in his eyes. I'm glad we never took him into Four set,” “He's a smart scholar, though,” spoke Ned Hill, dubiously. “But what a shame that he’s so spiritless a creature!” Then the three arose from the turf, and still smoking strolled along toward their separate homes. The academy was not located in the village, but was more than half a mile away, on a lovely hillside. Except the little district school-house, there were no houses between it. and the populated streets, Still higher in the embowering green! of the hill rose the tall turrets of a grand mansion, where, in days past, a city merchant had made his summer home. But for the last year it had obtained dreary significance in its stately loneli-— ness, because the only son and heir was | there carefully secured by barred win- dows and padded walls, a raving maniac.” The scholars at the academy gate had frequently heard his blood-curdling screams, his fierce imprecations.. A few of the most daring had ventured near enough to see the wild face at.the barred | window, and, trembling at the sight, scurried away. All had heard of his dangerous moods and his gigantic’ strength, until he had become a kind of fetich to scare old and young with the fear of what might happen should he escape from his bonds, a While the young men had lingered there in the pleasant shade the tragic | thing so long foreboded by the villagers | had really happened up on the hill-top. The maniac, waiting cunningly at the threshold of his room for the keeper’s | entrance, had thrown his can of water ful] in that functionary’s face, and spring: | ing upon him while he choked and gasped — beneath the deluge, had overpowered © him, and leaving him senseless: on the floor, made good his escape. ; 4 Unfortunately a carving-knife was — lying on a table in the room to which he made his way, and seizing it the maniac © leaped through an open window and gained the road. \ a The lads from the academy strolling leisurely along, heard behind them a sudden outery of wild yells and howling imprecations, : . urning simultaneously, all saw the — wild figure leaping down the road, and each one with a lightning flash of thought comprehended the situation, Ever first to speak, Harry ejaculated, | hoarsely: a “Boys, the crazy man is loose! What shall we do?” And without waitin darted into the shrubbery on the side of the road, and crept into the tangled thicket there, regardless of torn flesh or clothing. __ Jim’s ruddy face blanched. He gave desperate glance about him, and rushe for the tallest tree, and ascending wit the dextetity of a circus performer, hi himself amid its branches. — ea Ned was dancing under the tree, af the manner of a small boy made awa of a hornet’s nest in his vicinity. ~~ “Oh, Jim, can't you hide me there b you?” he whimpered. ee “Get over the wall—quick! Lie flat \ a Ria acme tec aah bi » Why, the ground behind it,” directed Jim, in a water for - Cautious tone, > if you _-. And Ned managed to obey somehow, en have _ plunging his head into a prickly growth of falls. of thistles in the operation without any ld a fel- knowledge of his scratches. mother All three remained in their hiding- rry. *\ Places, quaking in every limb as the returned } plunging steps and wild voice came near cious for ] and passed on. me my. Jim, from his perch in the tree, was er bow the first to speak. He had no remem- a little brance of the valiant knights who came ortsman forth from the academy yard so eager for she time an opportunity for gallant prowess. He a true, hardly knew his own voice, it was so making husky and thin. enough “Oh, boys, boys!” he cried, “he’s turn- DY, even. ing up the school-house yard. There’s 10 harm nobody there but those little children, y word and that slip of a girl for teacher. igh the They’ll all be murdered !” 1 would “We must go across lotsand cal! help,” iber, or answered Harry, crawling out to view. id have “But won’t it be too late?” sobbed Ned. [| it was “Our little Katy is there. Oh, I’m afraid I knew she will be hurt.” quence, “What can we do?” answered Harry, 3 \ _huskily. “We sha’n’t dare to confront "s dar- | that madman without more help. Let us n right — run in different directions for help. Hurry, burry !” oots of And suiting action to word he leaped about the wall and went flying over the fields ntarily toward the village. lerably The others tollowed his exaniple. ent he And very much in need of the assist- word, ance sought was the frightened group at Bie the school-house. voices Many of the pupils had_ left for home. But more than a dozen little girls were y, con- gathered about the young teacher at the blackboard, where she was explaining a eroism sf | difficult problem. ) dares 4 . Suddenly the delicate rose tint faded in his Out of her cheeks, and her voice faltered. m into } _ Then the crayon dropped out of her par- u _~ alyzed fingers and fell with a dull thud spoke _ ‘Upon the floor. The children stared, then shame _ followed her dilating eyes to the door- f a _ Way, and immediately a chorus of wail- Sat : _ ‘Ing cries followed. their ; “Ha, ha! a dainty picture!” shoutea . - the poor wild creature, glaring -upon e hee _ them with demoniac triumph. “St. Ursula eo the _ and her innocents! So the sacrifice _ awaited my coming.” - | The smallest child there understood what had happened, and its peril. Such a row of sweet, piteous, blanched ewe _ faces would have melted any heart less eran 9 Obdurate than that of this demented ic & : creature. _ Three times the poor young schoolmis- tress moved her stiff lips before she could articulate a’ sound. “What do you wish? This is not the ained © oneli-- r was — win- rj ht Z ” 7 - cre place for you,” she gasped finally. aCe ; “He ho! What should 1 want? I am Chief of the nuns. And, Ursula, you must die! Were you ever in Cologne? Such a pretty inlaid wall as they have there at the Church of the Eleven Thousand Vir- ' Sins! We will set up a rival here.. here shall I begin?” = e strode forward with a laugh that froze the blood in the veins of the poor ittle schoolmistress. She had borne her- Self nobly, forcing back her deadly terror y the utmost effort of her will. But now, when she saw him lay one fierce hand on little Katy Hill’s golden curls, while brandishing in the other that terrible 4 i geres nife, she gave one gasping cry, and he dropped fainting to the floor. al hen arose a tumult of sobbing cries. | teu Seeing their teacher helpless, the’ chil- riage dren lost all control of themselves, and began to scream in the utmost extremity of terror, _One girl sprang upon the bench by an Open window, and leaped out, shrieking at the top of her voice. The school-house stood at the fork of ‘WO roads which led to each extremity of “ the village, \ ‘Leonard Morrell had passed into one of Br ese roads and was walking slowly _ along, meditating rather bitterly upon his late interview, when he became aware of an unwonted commotion at the School-house. Stopping’ to listen he turned about, facing the building, and _ Saw the flying leap made by this girl. urrying back to meet her he gathered _ trom her incoherent account something like the true state of things at the School-house. _ Let me state the case truly. The lad's | Heart stood still a moment in utter dis- May and horror. His brain fairly reeled _efore the picture which the wild words _ Of the child conjured up. “What can Ido? I shall be like a wisp Of straw in that madman’s hands. It is folly for me to go there alone. I must ph for help,” said something within _ And he turned his face toward the road again. But there came another piercin cry, and a hoarse yell from the scene o horror, but into his eyes ™~ cn al Si | Who is Hector?” Pale.as all the others had grown be- | thoss poor children, their teacher in a faint or dead. I must go, though it be but to perish with them,” said another voice within him. “Ob, mother, this is the heroism you have talked about. Oh, mother, pray for your boy,” muttered Len, all uncon- sciously speaking aloud in a strange, hushed voice. And flying to the school-house he seized a bat that lay near the door, and the next moment he was within the room. What a sight met his eyes! The maniac had ranged the helpless children upon their knees in a row before the still motionless and prostrate teacher. Their little hands were clasped, the sweet, baby faces all tear-stained and woe-begone. In front of them the maniac o striding to and fro, brandishing his cnife. “Hold!” thundered Len. “Give me that knife!” He was so fired by the sight that he forgot his own weakness. “Who are you, stripling? It is f who command here. I am Achilles—Achilles, the invincible!” shouted back the mad- man, glaring upon the slender intruder with wolfish eyes. “Then you are vulnerable in the heel. I have yoursecret,” answered Len, quick- witted enough to seize upon the sugges- tion. “If I pierce it you are lost. Fly while you can!” Curiously enough the poor distraught mind held to the idea. “Who has revealed my secret? Ah! I must take heed,” muttered he, uneasily, and retreating up the aisle while he spoke. Leonard advanced with the boldness of desperation, and stood between him and the children. To the children he whispered a single word—“Run!” But they were too par- alyzed with fright to obey. “Who are you? Answer me ere I throt- tle you!” roared the maniac. ' “Tam Ulysses, and have found you out. Hasten again to Troy; they are waiting for you there!” commanded Len. The madman laughed shrilly. “True, you have found me among the maidens. I did not know this was the court of Lycomedes. But pshaw! I am sullen and angry; [ shall not go.” “But Patroclus is slain. Hector has slain Patroclus,” persisted Len, blessing the Iliad that its story still lingered in that shattered brain. “Ha! that alters the case. If I am Achilles I must go,” muttered the other, “Yes, I must avenge Patroclus, I shall slay Hector. He must drag behind my chariot wheels. Where is my chariot? And he came down the aisle brandish- ing the knife fiercely. “Throw down the useless knife. You want your magic shield and spear,” ven- tured Len; “they are waiting for you outside.” And fora moment he hoped that the poor creature would take a peaceful leave of them. But his eye fell upon the chil- dren, and the maniac was lashed again to fury. “You are cheating me! I cannot be Achilles. Here is St. Ursula slain, and the innocents are waiting their turn.” He seized little Katy’s round white arm, and ran the knife lightly across the dimpled wrist. ; The child shrieked, and Len caught her behind him, ahouEaes “Look to your heel! If I pierce it you are lost !” : His dreadful antagonist muttered some fierce gibberish, and ran cowering up the aisle, Leonard was driven to his wits’ end to know what to do next. But he followed the lead so opportunely given, and went on with the Odyssey. So long as he talked the poor demented creature re- mained quiet, only now and then mutter- ing some low comment, But if Leonard made a single historical error the man came fiercely toward him, crying: “You are an impostor. You are not telling the truth!” And Len was fain to set himself right, and be wary of further tripping. Well was it for him, and for the hap- less band of innocents whom his daring stratagem was shielding, that the lad’s information was sound and trustworthy. His cheek grew still more ghastly, his tongue felt parched and dry, and now and then a suffocating feeling seemed to grasp his throat, and shut down his voice, But when the longed-for help ar- rived, and the company of stout men peered anxiously into the school-house windows, this was the sight which met their gaze. The frightened children were huddled in ashuddering group beside the pros- trate teacher. The maniac, with fla ing ayes, and low mutterings, was whe ing the carving-knife on the end of a desk, and between them stood Leonard Mor- Raed ease. snes u ed a sudden gleam, “Oh, I must go. They are all alone, rell, with cheeks almost pallid as those GOOD NEWS. of natural springs. These springs over- ashen gray tint, but with resolute, cour- ageous ae ashine with some wondrous inward illumination. And he was talk- ing, talking, in a cool, commanding voice that puzzled them all. The madman was the first to discover the approach of strangers, “Ha, traitor! Troy is already taken, and this is Paris, with his host, come to avenge the death of Hector. Away! away!” With a terrible cry he darted forward, and leaped out of the window. But half a dozen strong men seized him, and the difficulty they had in securing him showed how hopeless would have been the slightest skirmish for slender Leon- ard. Straightway all was safety and thank- fulness, Ned Hill, with a cry of consternation, caught little Katy in his arnis, for her blue frock and dimpled arm were stained with blood. But examination —preved it to be only from a slight flesh wound. The teacher lifted her feeble head. She had revived some little time before, but had not dared to betray it. As they raised her to a chair she stretched out her hand toward Len Morrell: “You have saved our lives, brave, noble Leonard; you have saved all our lives,” cried she, with a burst of hyster- ical sobs. “You came all alone to our rescue. God bless you! God will bless you.” : Harry Converse tooked into Jim Turn- er’s disconcerted face, and glanced also at Ned, hugging close his little recovered sister, “Jim,” whispered sneaks and cowards, the milksops — everything shameful.” “TI know it. Don’t I know it without your telling me?” retorted Jim, fiercely. But here the academy principal came ei and shook Len’s limp hand joy- ully. 4 “What’s all this fine thing you’ve been doing, Len?” he asked, tenderly. “Taking a review of the classics, sir,” answered Len, smilingly; but his Jips trembled. The next moment his mother appeared, She had accompanied a frightened neigh- bor in search of her little daughter, and the story had been told to her by grateful eee “Leonard, faltered. “Mother, what you have taught me gave me courage,” stammered Len, as he met those loving eyes. And then the nerves, so much weaker ‘than the heroic soul, suddenly gave out. For the first time in his life Len fainted “dead away,” as the school-boys were tell- ng the next day. ut he was none the less the village he, “we are the We are the idiots, mean and my own true boy,” she hero. Early the next morning came Ned, and Jim, and Harry, with sheepish looks and faltering tones, “Len, will you forgive aset of thorough penitents who could not feel much more ashamed? We come to say that we no longer doubt the opportunities for hero- ism in our time. And we shall never, never question your bravery and nobility mealde ¥ an are a true hero, Len. If you’l] let us the boys would like to bring you a crown of laurel. And—and—we’d like to see the first fellow at college dare to sneer at you for not smoking. We just ask you to leave him to us, that’s all, Here come the boys. Three times three, lads, for Len Morrell, the live hero. Hip, hip, hurrah !” ——__ + oe _—__—_. THE TOWN OF FIRE. The city of Baku, on the western coast of the Caspian Sea, is called aa the na- tives the “town of fire.” It is the great- est center of petroleum in the world. The site upon which it is built—as, in- deed, the whole Caspian Sea—rests upon naphtha. At the present Say, the oil-springs of Baku yield two million kilogrammes a ear, and the product disputes the mar- ets of Europe with that of Pennsyl. vania, That portion of Russia’ is com- pared to a sponge plunged in mineral oil. The soil is constantly vomiting forth the liquid lava that torments its entrails, either in the form of mud voleanoes or flow in streams so abundantly that it is hopeless to store their contents for want of reservoirs; often they catch fire and burn for weeks, The air, impregnated with naphtha vapors, is then aglow all around Baku. / ———__+ 0-e —___ Mr. Edward Stratemeyer, whose reputa- tion for writing live and interesting stories is well known, has just finished writing for us a story which will equal, if not surpass, pe of boys’ papers to exchange for theatrical pro- best offer. best offer. ; fax Cinb skates. 10 and 104, 1 fine mandolin,1 2439 EXCHAN GE DEPARTMENT, {IMpoRTANT.—This column is free to all our readers. We will not be responsible for transactions brough about through notices in this column. All offers coal be strictly exchange offers. We will not insert any “for sale” advertisements, nor exchanges of fire-arms, explosives, dangerous or worthless articles. If exchan a) notices do not ao a reasonable time, it may fe understood that they were not accepted. Address all communications for this columm to “Exchange De. partment,”] seins ements CIGARETTE PICTURES.—Walter Tucker, 830 Central avenue, Newport, Ky,, has cigarette pic- tures, Stamps, Coins and other articles to exchange for any kind of U.S. stamps—Columbus issue pre- ferred—or good foreign stamps. ; THEATER PROGRAMMES.—Thomas E. Gyn- gell, 1516 Dorrence street, Philadelphia, Pa,, has theater programines to exchange for others from any part of the world. NOVELS —B. A. Cassitiy, 1506 Stillmann street, Philadelphia, Pa., has novels, cigarette cards, and different articles to exchange for best offer. PRINTING PRESS.—Walter Sawn, Vincen- town, N.J.,hasa74x 11 foot-power’ press to ex- change for a good foot-power lathe with slide rest. BOYS’ PAPERS.—Geo. 0. Adams, Box 48, Ocean City, Cape May Co., N.J., has boys’ papers to ex- Sane for typewriter, reading matter, or best offer. SKATES.—Edward McDowell, 174 E. Bride street, Oswego, N. Y., has reading matter, skates, cigarette pictures, stamps, tin tags, and pro- grammes to exchange for best offer. BOOK.—J. A. Howell, Gold Hill. N. C., hasa book to exchange for novels or best offer; also a magic lantern, with thirty or forty slides, sixty or sev- enty views, value $15, to exchange for watches or best offer. BOYS’ PAPERS.—Adolph Hoelscher, 1132 Ann street, sTomDOre Ky., has boys’ papers, stamp col- lection in album; novels, cigarette pictures, stamp papers, and other articles to exchange for boys’ papers, bound books, bicycle, sporting goods, or row-boat. -PRINTING PRESS.—E. C. Northrop, Stepney, Conn., hasa printing press and type, type-cases, and whole outfit, about $14 worth, would like to ex- change for a good view lense or photographic materials of any kind. VIOLIN.—E. G. Weible. Eldred, Pa., will ex- change Violin, telescope, stereoscope with thirty- five views, a telegraph instrument and lot of good books, bound, for self-inking press and outfit, or any or all of the above articles for old U. 8. stamps. PRINTING PRESS.—E. M. Ward, 104 ‘Thirty- ninth street, Chicago, Ill., will exchange printing press, four fonts of type, reading matter, stamps of present issue, programmes, and a pair of ice skates for electrical goods or best offer. Send for list. 6 UPRIGHT ENGINE.—Robert O'Neil, 122 &§- 10% street, Terre Haute, Ind., has one Weeden up* right engine, five-cent novels, and Columbian . stamps to exchange for foreign stamps or best offer. Send stamp for list. STAMPS.—Alfred Hart, 639 North Eighth street, Philadelphia, Pa., has foreign stamps, cigarette card, and Columbian stamps, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 15 cts., all good, and a President’s magnetic pastime in puzzle box to exchange for pair of boxing- gloves. STAMPS.—Edgar D. Jones, 537 Kansas City, Mo., has American stamps to exchange; from foreign countries. COINS.—Samtel Lyon, 3415 Third avenue, New York, has novels, rare foreign stamps, foreign . coins, about seventy-five numbers of boys’ papers, and a 25-inch diameter crab net, with fine rope, for a pair of clamp rubber-wheeled roller skates or best offer. _ CIGARETTE PICTURES.—R. H. Mount, Ma- hopac Falls, Putnam County, N. Y., will give two cigarette pictures or two foreign stamps for every three, four, five or ten-cent Columbian stamp; not , less than five taken ; and five cigarette pictures and five foreign stamps for every Columbian stamp above the ten-cent stamp. MAGAZINES.—Eugene Eskew, Denver, S. G., has a lot of magazines to exchange for twenty-five- é cent novels; also one pair roller skates toexchange- A for books. ez NOVELS.—W. H. Gillilan, Viola, inn County, Towa, will exchange novels for Columbian stamps; * ~ also would like to exchange back numbers of boys’ _ papers for novels a TYPEWRITER.—Forrest S. Hayes, Box 504, Galva, IIL, has a new $15 typewriter, watch, magie ey lantern with 12 slides, stamp~ papers, cigarette ‘ albums, cigarette cards. and other articles to ex- change for stamps, camera, or a printing press. NOVELS.—J. G. Banknecht, 197 Houston avenue, Muskegon, Mich., has papers and novels to ex- change for cigarette pictures. PRINTING OUTFIT.—Eddie Heller, George- town, Col., has a printing outfit to exchange for best offer. a BOYS' PAPERS.—H. T. Cook, 312 W. 133rd street, New York, has vols. of boys’ papers to ex- change for other vols, of boys’ papers or best offer. ‘ LIBRARIES.—Edward'\ Smith, care of Richard | | Hey & Son, Manayunk, Phila., Pa., has libraries — and boys’ papers to exchange for best offer. NOVELS.—Ren. Ralyea, Jr., Vinton. Iowa, has stamps, novels, cigarette pictures, and bound vols. Park avenue, and foreign would like correspondence f grammes a STAMPS.—Chas Fisher, Fredericton, N. B, iy Canada, has New Brunswick and Nova Scotia stamps to exchange for stamps. ; STAMPS.—Bertram Osker, Pacific Jet., Chicago, Til, will exchange 1,000 new Columbian stamps for \ \ BOYS' PAPERS —A E. Meeden. 16 Elmer street, Hartford, Conn., has boys’ papers to exchange for SKATES.—M_Behrendt. care of A. Dessauer, 14 Fayette street, Brooklyn, N_ Y., has 2 pairs of Hali- silver-toned accordion, and other things to ex- change for best offer in/foreign stanips. ; : SKATES.—Jno. W. Hess, Dutchess Junction, Dutchess Co., N. Y., has a pair of racing skates, latest style, wood tops. guitar, anda lotof reading — matter toexchange for a banjo NOVELS.—J W. Brill, 335 Barrow street, Jersey _ City, N. J., has novels to exchange for novels. — Please send list. ee NOVELS.--Geo R. Alexander, Box 120, Water. ford, N. Y , has 10 complete novels to exchange for 25 theater programmes of Southern cities. . 8 NOVELS.—Ed. P Sinnock, 693 High street, — Newark, N.J., has novels and programmes toex- change for tobacco or cigarette cards, stamps, or tin tags. Write before sending. ; ah anything he has ever written. It will begin of the fainting teacher. with lips of an neat week, : Mo , has boys’ papers ». Stamps. Send list and price. BOYS’ PAPERS.—Byron Dressier, West Plains, and books to exchange for U. GooDp ISSUED WEEKLY, NEW YORK, APRIL 8, 1893. “ Terms to Good News Mail Subscribers: (POSTAGE FREE.) 3months - - - - - 65c:,| One Year y= - iss == $2.50 4months - - - - - 85c. | 2copies, one year- - 4.00 6 months - - - -_- $1.25 | l copy, two years - -, 4.00 Goop News anv N. Y. WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.50 How 'vo SEND MonkEy.-~By post-oflice or ee money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk, if sent by postal note, currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. RENEWALS.—Lhe number indicated on your address label denotes when your subscription expires. If you wish your subscription stopped at expiration you must notify us promptly, or else be held re sponsible for payment, as otherwise the paper will be sent. ReEcerpts.—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not cor rect you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. t ‘To CLUB RatsERs.—Upon request we will send sam- ple copies to aia you in obtaining subscribers. 2 _ AGENTs.—Our responsibility for remittances a »plies only to such as are sent to us direct, and we will not guarantee the reliability of any subscription agency or postmaster. All letters should be addressed to STREET & SMITH’S GOOD NEWS, P.O. Box 2734, 29 & 31 RoseStreet, N.Y. Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be obtained from your Newsdealers. If they do not have them please send direct to this office and we will supply them by mail on receipt of price. Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line. Contents of this Number. SERIAL STORIES. “Careless Jack,” by Oll Coomes. “Mat Merriman Abroad,’ by Harvey Hicks. “A Boy’s Fortune,” by Horatio Alger. * «Byxiled to Siberia,” by Wm. Murray Gray- don. “The Treasure of the Golden Crater,” by Lieut. Lionel Lounsberry. “The Fae Ranchers,” by Edward S. . Ellis. SHORT STORIES, “Dangerous Fun,” by W. M. **§ Live Hero,” by M. T. Caldor. “Not the Kind He Wanted,” by Max Adeler. “4 Mysterious Burglar,” by Emerson : ennett. “The Frozen Watcher,” by Roger Star- buck. ‘‘A Scene in a Detective’s Life,” by J. B. G. “Adventure With the Cheyennes,” by Ned Milbrook. 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.” J Miscellaneous Items, etc. SS tee Most of You Know Him. We refer to the popular author, Mr. Ed- ward Stratemeyer, whose new story will begin next week. The story is founded on} facts and scenes of the present day. It is entitled— THE TIN BOX MYSTERY; aioe Bonds. _ The Stolen = BY EDW. STRATEMEYER, Author of ‘Jack, the Inventor,” ‘‘Reuben Stone’s Discovery,” ‘Captain Bob’s : Secret,” etc. ae _ The hero is a friendless boy, who starts out to make his living Naturally he aims - for New York, and on his way over from _ Jersey City he overhears a conversation on the ferry-boat, which is the foundation of the story. By performing an heroic act he secures a situation in the office of a Wall street broker, and discovers a plot to ruin his benefactor. He does some amateur de- tective business of the most thrilling nature. The story is full of interest, the scenes and situations not overdrawn, and, to sum up the whole, it is a story well worth readin NOT THE KIND HE WANTED. ee BY MAX ADELER. —— ¢ ——— OME time ago as Keyser was driv- ing into town one morning, Butter- wick hailed him, and said: “T understood you were coming in to-day to buy a horse. Is that so?” “Well, now, before you buy I want you to come over to my place and look at a lot l've got to sell. [ have a dozen splen- did horses, and I’ll close out any one of them dirt cheap.” So Keyser went over, and when they ges tate Butterwick’s stable, Butterwick said: “Now, here’s a beautiful animal, four years old, sound as a dollar, and as sweet-tempered as an angel.” “That isn’t exactly the kind of a horse I want,” said Keyser. “Good enough, too, Fif- but not what I’m looking for.” “Well, how do you like this one. teen hands high, wind enough to blow a church organ; can trot his mile in 2.23, and never turn a hair. I'll just give him away to you.” “N-n-no,” said Keyser, “he’s hand- some, and all that, but I’d fixed my mind on a different kind of a horse, and if I can’t get that I won’t take any.” “Now, here’s the very horse you want,” said Butterwick. “Light, graceful, no spare flesh on him, eyes like a hawk, and kind as a baby. If you really want a horse for use, this is the animal for your money. A lamb’s blood-thirsty and sav- age compared to him.” : “Oh, I dare say!” replied Keyser; “but he don’t quite fill the bill. I guess I'll have to look farther.” “Now, I don’t want you to do that. Just cast your eye over the others there, and see if there’s any that you like, I'll warrant ’em all.” ~“T don’t think I like any of ’em. There’s too much flesh on them.” “What?” ) “And not enough legs.” “Not enough? Why, you must be crazy !” exclaimed Butterwick. “What's the matter with their legs?” “Oh, nothing, only there ain’t enough of ’em, that’s all.” “See here, Keyser, 1 don’t believe you want a horse, anyway.” “Oh, yes, ldo! Icamein to buy one, and I’m going to do it before I go home, if I see any I like.” “Well, what’s the reason none of them suits you? What’s the useof talking about their being short of legs? What sort of a horse are you after, anyway?” “The fact is,” said Keyser, “I don’t want a fast horse, or a blooded horse, ora horse that is kind. I want one that is good at standing still. To tell the truth, I want a clothes-horse.” Then Butterwick locked the stable- door, and went away mad, and Keyser drove on, : —_—_—_~> +> HOW SHE CAUCHT A PICKPOCKET, A wealthy lady was in a car with a con- siderable sum of money in her purse. At one of the stops there came into the car a man who sat down beside her. She thought of her well-filled purse, and re- solved to watch him closely, Suddenly her suspicious Beg UReE put his hand down at his side. She felt it slide down until if touched her purse. and instantly she put out her own hand and seized the stranger by the wrist. He did not struggle, however, and she was in some perplexity as to what she should do next; but she thought that if he should attempt to get away she could at least show that she had him by the wrist with his hand in her pocket. They rode on in this way for some dis- tance, when to her amazement the stranger prepared to rise. “If you will let go of my arm, madam,” he said, with the utmost coolness, “I will get out here.” He half rose as he spoke, and, to her utter confusion, the lady discovered that his hand, instead of being in her pocket, was thrust into the poe of his own ulster, The garment hung down so that his hand had pressed against her purse without being in contact with it, and she had been holding him by the wrist with no excuse whatever.: / She was overcome with confusion, but managed to say that she had thought his hahd to bein her pocket, The stranger smiled and went out, while a gentleman near by leaned forward to say: “Don’t you, know who that is, madam? That is the Reverend Doctor ——.” The name was that of one of the best known clergymen in New York. —_——_—__—-— 0-—————_ + FEMALE tram-car conductors are now ap- ointed on all the tramway lines at St. Tago. hey have uo regular uniform, but all wear a by all. The opening chapters will be foun in No, 164—next week,» i straw hat, a large white apron, and a leather bag. | ead WITH THE cerca hath i gmc BY ARTHUR SEWALL. A. C. C., Chrisman, Dl1s., writes: “I am 18 years of age and have graduated from a com- mon school. I am now employed as a clerk in a dry-goods establishment, but do not like it. I would like to become a traveling sales- man or a telegraph operator. Which would ot advise ine to learn, and which pays the In a recent issue of the Goop Nrws, we very explicitly stated our belief that telegraph-operating was the last thing in the world that any sensible young man should take up. . We then said that the work was one that ought to be given over to young women. That opinion we still cling to, and would therefore advise you to dismiss ,telegraph-operating at once from the trades that you propose to consider. 3 As far as being a traveling salesman is concerned, we think that you will do well to consider the possibility or proba- bility of your success in that vocation more seriously. A successful traveling salesman makes a good living. He can readily earn all the way from $1,500 to 62,500 a year. Success in this vocation depends chiefly upon a complete knowledge of the busi- ness, and of an extensive acquaintance with your customers. A man who has a long line of customers who buy from him regularly can command his own salary. Indeed, so much has the practice been that recently it was stated in the New York papers that the wholesale houses had combined together and refused to pay more than a certain percentage to their traveling salesmen. If you are in a dry-goods house you will do well to learn that business and then make small excursionsin your immediate vicinity. By so doing you can learn the ropes, and in time will be able to secure a similar place with some larger house in one of the big cities. Very frequently traveling men have special territories, thus one man has a route from New York to Chicago, an- other the New England States, while a third does the Southern States, and so on. From this you see the desirability of gaining an early experience and fa- miliarity with a given territory. If you are successful in one line you will doubtless be successful in other directions, hence it does not make so much difference as to the line you begin with. The dry-goods business is an ex- cellent trade, and salesmen in that line earn good salaries. Of course a man’s salary depends upon his sales. A man who can sell $10,000 worth of goods a year is not as valuable to a house as one who sells $50,000 worth of goods. Even at five times the salary, the second man is worth more, because the more his house purchases or makes the greater discount they receive. A canvasser has pretty much the same kind of work as a salesman, and the suc- cess of many a journal has depended en- tirely upon the efforts of its canvasser, A man who is able to bring advertise- ments to a paper is most valuable, for the advertising patronage makes it possible for the proprietors to indulge in_ the things that bring it notoriety, Thus the Herald sent Stanley after Livingstone in Africa, The World sent Nellie Bly around the world. The Chicago Herald sent an expedition to locate the exact first landing of Columbus. All these things cost money, and hence you see the advantage of learning to work in such a way as to make yourself worthy to your ee It means good wages to you and a life position as well, oi H. J. R., Kansas City, Mo, writes: ‘“T am going on 19 years of age, and I think [ will go to Denver to live with my sister. I am_ think- ing of going in the cattle business. Do you think that is a good business, or is the mining business better? I have $1,000 to invest in something. Would you advise me to invest it in either one of the above-named, or not?” Of all cities in the country Denver seems to be the most promising. Already it has a population of 106,713, and from appearances promises in time to rival ansas City, and perhaps even Chicago, Denver has all the elements of a great city. It has room to grow in, and it is the metropolis of a large territory that is dependent upon it for supplies. More than twenty different railroads come in at Denver, so that it is already a great railrdhd center. As tothe cattle business, we cannot say much, but in a general way we feel that you can do better. To be successful n the cattle business requires skill, judg- 4 ment, and experience, as well as capital. Moreover, the business is already largely in the hands of great owners, who supply the markets in Kansas City and Chicago. In our opinion you will do much better to invest your money in real estate. Go to Denver, settle down, and look around you. Go over to South Denver, buy a pair of lots, and hold them till they rise in value. Then sell one and buy two more. Keep on in this way until you are worth $50,000, then you will be able to invest your money in some building that will yield you an income. With your income you can afford to speculate. Do so, how- ever, with judgment. Don’t dabble in everything, but if a good mining scheme comes along put $500 or a $1,000 in it, It won’t make any difference if you do lose it. It is only your income and not your principal. If you dothis sort of thing with diseretion, the first thing you know you will find yourself a millionaire. Meanwhile, however, don’t neglect your regular work. Get something to do, and keep at that. The fact that you have money will give you a certain amount of independence that will be serviceable to you. Profession is a good thing to follow in Denver. Some of the lawyers there have a practice that yields them an in- come of $30,000 to $50,000 a year. Study law and practice it right in Denver. Whatever you do, dgn’t gointo mining, Better throw your money into the gutter and have done with it. For every mine that pays, probably a thousand are worth- less. Any old miner will tell you that legitimate business pays best in the long run. Leave mining to rich mén who can afford it. It is like horse-racing, when your horses win, you make money, but when they lose, you are out of pocket. Mining, when it pays, yields big divid- ends. There are mines near Aspen, Col., that pay 20 per cent. a month, so that you double your money in less than a year, but, on the other hand, millions of good dollars have been lost in mining schemes in Colorado, ; The climate of Denver. is good and healthy. The society pleasant and agree- able. The churches and theaters of the best, and even the clubs are better than those of many larger places. W. G., New York city, wants to become a Saas and would like to know where he can learn the trade. We know of no place in this city where you can learn to be a compositor, except in the regular way by going right into a printing office and learning the trade there. There are noschools where that art is taught, so that you have noalterna- tive. A boy who is bright and clever ought not to have any difficulty in learn- ing to set type. As you already know, the type are ar- ranged in so-called cases with special compartments for each letter. When you have learned where each letter is and can select them quickly you have learned the hardest part of the type-setting. Of course great difficulty exists in reading copy when you are beginning, but this also remedies itself in time. Many a man can set type without any difficulty, but-he cannot read copy, so that with learning the case and learning to read copy you have accomplished most of the job. You will find in recent issues of the Goop Nrws frequent reference to print- ing, and especially on Page 404 of the first volume of this paper you will see an en- tire Short Talk devoted to the subject. If the compositor is in New York there is generally achance for him at one of the newspaper offices, or else at some book printing establishment. Thesame is true of Phi ae New Orleans, and San Francisco. Even the smaller towns have these job offices, so you will be able to get Bemseralny to do, thus enabling you to earn the wherewithal to get your bread and butter, : Some bright clever young man will some day start a printing-house in the country, or in some small country town, and make a name for himself all over the © United States for his artistic work, so that people will send to him to have’their printing done, e believe in printing, moreover, be- cause it is educating. Printers develop if they have brains. Remember the case of Greeley, who when he was fourteen > years of age was_ poprenyiced for five years, receiving his board and lodging, and after the first six months $40 a year. He died a candidate for the Presidency. Very few of the men of the last fifty years who have become distinguished in your own life but first served something of an aprenneee either at the case or at the desk in a printing office, deed, it was almost part of one’s educa- tion, almost as much so as a course of teaching. . Peale ae ———_—_—_4+> Drivers in the clear waters of the tropi- eal seas find that fish of different colors when frightened donot all dart in the same direction, but that each different kind takes shelter in that portion of the a submarine growth nearest to its color, eee a ple ee In- Goop NEWS. 2441 > line, eagerly, 0,” answeerd Harry. the clerk said he give it to him; so I "tS with bim.” (eiine looked anxious. m afraid his guardian ‘get hold of it,” she » turning to Rose. : ‘yen if he does, there 1s ing in it that you need et writing.” - would never reach »” *%obably yon are right. hat case we must make her effort when there 's a good chance.” -as decided that Harry di call the next day ai - dinner hour, and ascer- ‘whether the uote had delivered. He did so, nly to learn that the e had been given to jor Grafton, and that th he and Philip had left ie hotel... “Do you know where they ent,” asked Harry, eager- ‘No. y. He will probably send fre for letters, and then I h mention that you call- Harry assented, not being le to explain that this ld not answer his pur- en he reported his in- rmation at home, Adeline quickly: “He left because he does b want us to communicate ith Philip.” ; *Probably,” said Rose. his shows,” she added, hat he is afraid Philip Muld be inclined to do mething forus. Iam glad ve my faith strengthen n the boy, at all ts. If he were willing ye in luxury while he lew we were struggling ith poverty I could not re- him as a cousin.” e next morning Mr. cil read in the morning ipers, among the passen- Ts who had sailed for trope the day_before, the mes of Major Grafton and ‘lip. . Es fellow has lost no me,” he said to himself. the boy is bright and at- ctive, but he stands a lance of being spoiled der such a guardian, I ish I had questioned him, Nd tried to learn some- ing of him. I might have ven him some idea of the justice which has been ; the major did not, (This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.] "oO Y o FORT UNE; 9 OR 2 Strange Adventures of Ben Baker. By HORATIO ALGER, uthor of ‘* Adrift in the City,” * Grit,” “ Frank and Fearless,” ** Dan the Detective,” « Plucky Paul Palmer, oy’s FORTUNE,” was commenced in No. 149. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. } poverty which was not removed by the CHAPTER XIV. smali allowance he sent them. HAT BEN'S FRIENDS THOUGHT, “ID you see Philip?” asked Ade- when her young Y \rother returned from his visit to R= the Metropolitan Hotel. ; “He was out.” guilty. He had knowingly and intention- And you brought back the note, then?” | ally been the occasion of his brother-1n- his sister, disappointed boy,” he said to himself, “and then he ” ete. “Perhaps Major Grafton will adopt the won't need his father’s money.” As if this would gloss over or excuse the base fraud of which he had been law’s sudden death, and was as much his | times he had. Here is my country cousin going, while I have to stay at home.” “Don’t worry, Clarence,” said his father, encouragingly. “ You shall go in time. If your friend Percy shouid be go- ing again, and will accept you as a com- panion, I will let you go.” This somewhat cheered up Clarence, though with the natural impatience of youth he wanted to go at once. “I think I never knew a boy as lucky as Ben,” said he. “He certainly has been strangely for- tunate,” said Mr. Walton. “He would have been glad to take a place in a store at five dollars a week, and now he’s got something ever so much better. I believe he has more money than I to spend, and I am sure he dresses_bet- ter.” “He seems to have made an_ impression upon this Major Grafton. I shouldn’t be surprised if Grafton adopted him. He has no family of his own, and is, I im- agine, very rich,” We know that on this \ AN : \ s ay ANY \ AWN ea : NURI Hing Ge DAR NH NH Wi i \ ‘ wh \\\ \ \ Wy AN AY WX. \\\ Go \ AY \ Vics \' ‘ a) A VW LS AE: a strong family resemblance to Ben, and was equally good-looking. “It seems an age since Ben left hgme,” said Mrs. Baker, with a little sigh. “I miss him dreadfully, mother,” said Alice. “ Why need he go away?” “TI can’t blame him, Alice, though I am very sorry to have him go,” said Mrs. Baker. “He is ambitious——” “What does that mean?” asked Alice, puzzled. “Tt means that he is anxious to get on in the world—to make money. Itisa natural feeling for a boy.” “He used to earn money here at home,” said Alice. “Only a little. No doubt he can do bet- ter in New York, if he can get a chance. If his uncle will only help him——” “T should think he might, mother. Ben is a good boy.” “There is none better,” assented his mother, fondly; “but strangers may not know that.” Just then a neighbor, driving by, paused in the road, and called out to the widow, : whom he saw at the open ms » wnidow: | “Widder Baker, there’s a letter for you at the post- office. ’Spect it’s from Ben,” “Go right over and get it, Alice,” said her mother, excitedly, Alice wasn't long in per- forming her errand. She came back well rewarded, bringing with her two let- ters, one of which had arriv- Wj, ed the day before. The first letter contained | an account of his cold re- UI! «ception by his uncle, and on TMT af the other hand his good | | luck in encountering Major _|}| Grafton, As an earnest of } his good fortune he inclos- | ed three five-dollar bills. “God has been very good to us!” said the widow, } with beaming face. “I can hardly believe in Ben’s good fortune.” “Open the other letter, mother,” said Alice. Mrs. Baker did so, and, glancing over it rapidly, uttered a quiet exclamation of surprise and dismay. “Alice,” she said, “Ben has sailed for Europe!” “Gone to Europe, and ae bidding us good- y “He did not have any chance,” and Mrs, Baker read Ben's letter. When she came to think it over. she felt that Ben was, on the whole, fortunate to have so good an oppor- tunity of seeing the world; and as to dangers and risks, God would take care of him abroad as well as at home. She would have liked to have known the man who had her boy in charge. Doubtless he must have taken a fancy to Ben, or he would not have given him such a chance. Re CHAPTER XV. FILIPPO NOVARRO, ICHOLAS WALTON was well pleased with the good for- tune of his nephew. Though: a selfish man, he was not wholly without a conscience and a heart. He had always regretted the manner in which he had “DO YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT YOU WERE NOT WITH THE MAJOR?” ASKED THE GENTLEMAN, ‘ADDRESSING BEN. facticed toward his poor cousins. ot care so much that he profits by it }that that worthless uncle of his s Ye in luxury at their expense. raid they are having a hard time.” hould I am into his breast, though his crime was less brutal and revolting. While these thoughts were passing lich oer a Ue % How hard a time the sisters were hav- —how stern and exacting was the toil her sister’s helplessness imposed Rose—Mr. C Tf he had, he would certainly have something to assist them, for Ws a kind-hearted man, but whenever se called upon him she was neatly assed, and did not bear outward marks he poverty with which she had to con- far as Nicholas Walton was con- ned, he was glad, upon the whole, to that his nephew had gone to Europe. ould not see Ben without his con- ing him with the wrong him, and was still doing nd his mother by retaining posges- a sum of money which would have yem opulence in exchange for the ce reproach ad done office. see you,” sai through his mind, Clarence entered the “Clarence, your cousin has been here to Mr, Walton. icil really had little| “What did he have to say, pa?” he| “To bid me good is he going?” “ noon.” enviously. “He came to bid roe good-by.” -by? What for? Where “He is to sail for Europe this after- “To sail for Europe!” repeated Clar- ence, in amazement. “He didn’t say any- thing about it last evening?” i “Because he did not know it.’ He was only told this morning.” “He’s a lucky beggar!” said Clarence, “T’ve been longing to go to. Europe this ever so long. Perey Van Dyke spent_last summer in Switzerland, It an- noys me to hear him talk of the splendid’ sister, Alice, but ten years old, Sbe bore » I{murderer as if he had plunged a knife |lust point Mr. Walton was misinformed, The suggestion, however, was enough to excite the envy and jealousy of Clarence. “Do you think he will be richer than I?” he asked. “You will be well provided for, Clar- ence. You won’t have .occasion for envy- ing your cousin, even if he should be adopted by Major Grafton.” We have now to change the scene to the little town of Sunderland, from which our hero had come to New York to seek the good fortune which he so strangely found. We direct our steps toa plain cottage containing but four rooms and an attic, which stood a little out of the center of the village, Smail and plain as it was, it had an air of refinement and good taste, with its climbing honeysuckles, tiny bed of flowers, its trimly kept lawn. and neat surroundings, which. are vainly sought ‘about many more pretentious residences. Here dwelt Mrs. Baker and Ben's little * “ ossessed himself of the. arge sum of money which, by enabling him to take a store on Broadway, and largely extend his business, had allowed him to take a place among the foremost nierchants of New York. e would have preferred to compass his own fortune without bring- — ing ill-fortune to his brother-in-law, but if the thing had to be done again, under the same circumstances, he would prob- ably have yielded to the same temptation. “Ben appears to be a smart, attractive boy,” said Walton to himself. “He is likely to make his own way in the world, | especially in his present position. I dare. say it is better for him to have lived plainly, and nourished self-reliance, than — to have been reared in luxury. Then, as of yery little business shrewdness. He would have wasted the money in bad in- | vestments, and, ten to one, not a dollar time.” _ , : " 4 his conscience, but without success, Many a time, especially in the silent — to the fortune, Doctor Baker was a man of it would have remained at the present ; ee - All this Nicholas Walton said to quiet 2442 Goon NEWS. have forgotten, when his ill-fated brother- in-law died ina fit of agitation brought on by Walton intentionally. He could see himself once more rifling the pockets ef the dead man, and converting to his own use the money which would have made the physician and his family pros- perous and happy. These disquieting thoughts he tried to get rid of. -He tried to persuade himself that he was wholly disinterested in his good wishes for his nephew, By way of Keeping up the illusion he snatched five minutes from his businses, and wrote the following letter of congratulation to his sister: “My DEAR SISTER :—Benjamin has no donbt apprised you of his success in obtaining a profitable eugavement, and of his departure for Europe. He has also perhaps told you that [ was opposed to his remaining in the city. I[ admit that [ thonght it would have been better for him to remain in Sunderland, and obtain a Practical acquaintance with farming, in which ease I wouldat the proper time have set him up ona farm of his own, for IL hold that the farmer is the only truly independent man. A merchant may be rich to-day and a bankrupt to-morrow, and that in spite of the utmost care and prudence. However, I won’t dwell on this subject. Lam willing to admit that [ did not give iny nephew credit forthe energy and abil- ity he has shown, ‘Though [ refused to help him, further than to pay the expenses of his trip to the city, on condition of his returning home at once, he remained and succeeded in commending himself to the favor of a rich mau who has given him an excellent position, and will probably—for he seems to be eccen: tric—tinally conclude to adopt the boy. “It is needless to say that I could not have anticipated such extraordinary luck for Ben- jamin, and that [am glad he followed his own counsel and remained in the city. Doubtless a better fortune awaits him than the life of a farmer, which, though independent, is labor- ious. I[ only write now to congratulate you upon nis success, and to express my interest in him. Though you will no doubt miss him, [ think you will be able to see that he has done the best thing for himself and for you in the engagement which he has made with Major Grafton. He would have dined at my house to-morrow, but for his sudden departure. 7 “Tinclose my next month's allowance a little in advance. ‘Your affectionate brother, “NICHOLAS WALTON.” Mrs. Baker was surprised and gratified on receiving this unusually long letter from her brother Nicholas. She had been wounded at the cool reception which he had accorded to Ben, as detailed in the letter of the latter, but this letter puta new face on the matter. “After all Nicholas feels an interest in Ben,” she said to herself, “and no doubt he acted for what he thought the best in the advice he gave hisn to remain in Sun. derland and become a farmer. He ac- knowledges his mistake very hand- somely.” So upon the spur of the moment she wrote her brother a letter, acknowledging gratefully his kindnss to her boy, and asking for a continuance of it. This letter was received by Mr. Wal- ton with satisfaction. It made it easier for him to feel that he had not after all wronged his sister and her family as much as_ his. conscience sometimes re- Brpagnet him with. “Would that I'could lose all. the mem- ories of that dreadful hour!” he said to himself, with a shudder. “but perhaps my time will come to be|if to obtain confirmation or denial of this But he did not find that so very easy. | sick, Can't. I do something to make you | story. : ‘y It was destined to be recalled to him in comfortable?” _ Major Grafton hesitated, as if not de- a startling manner within a week. As he sat in his office the following Thursday, a clerk entered. “Mr. Walton,” he said, “there is a for- eign gentleman in the store who wishes to see you.” 4 “fs it a stranger?” eek, OB Sit,” “He wishes to see meon bus less. You may bring him in. The visitor entered—a man of medium size and swarthy complexion—who. would be taken at first sight for a Spaniard or a Portuguese. Nicholas Walton regarded him with a look of rage Wes gerd “Do I speak to Mr, Walton?” asked the stranger, in good English, but with a foreign accent. “Tam Mr. W chant... a “You are brother in-law to Mr.—I beg pardon, Doctor Baker?” : “Ye-es,” answered the merchant, with iness doubt- alton,” answered the mer- Pod a startled look. stands that Grafton had a purpose to Se serve, and that a selfish one. For Ben he 5 welll” ere cg e the a0 es cared nothings but his own interest re- “He is—dead !” replied Walton, slowly. “Did you know him?” “I much regret to hear of his death. I did not know him, but I met him once.” “This must be the man who gave him the bonds,” thought Walton, trying to conceal his perturbation. “The moment and the man I have so long dreaded hav arrived. Now, Nicholas Walton, you re- _ quire all your coolness and nerve. _ “May Task when that was?” he asked, with apparent unconcern, age 8 “Five years ago. I was the agent for _ conveying to him a large sum in securi- ‘ watches of the night, memory revived for him that scene which he would so gladly some ginger ale,” said the major. earn the liberal salary which he was _ re- ceiving. It was not exactly actin him. wanted for nothing; and had he been the major’s son he would have fared no bet- ter. Yet he did not form any attachment for his employer, as might have been thought natural, this, when he-considered the advantages of his position; but it was not so strange or culpabletas Ben supposed. The boy saw clearly that, whatever might have ‘been Major Grafton‘s motive in taking him into his service, it was not any special interest or attachment, The reader under- quired that he should have a boy with him, as a substitute for the one whose death he wished to conceal, and our hero filled the bill as well as any he could se- cure. his state-room, endurng as well as he could the pangs of sea-sickness, a gentle- man on deck accosted Ben: man.” he said. “Indeed! Iam most glad tosee you, sir. I wish my brother-in-law were alive to give you personal welcome.” “When—did he die?” “But a short time after you met him. He died instantly—of heart disease.” “He left a wife and child, did he not?” “ He left a wife and two children.” “ And they live?” “ es ” “I wish I could see them.” Nicholas Walton was perplexed and alarmed. If the stranger should see Mrs. Baker, his elaborate scheme would fail to the ground, and he would be galled upon for an explanation. “Do you remain long in the city?” he asked, “I go to Havana in three days. Busi- ness of importance, not to mention the sickness of nv brother, calls me there.” “Ah!” said the merchant, relieved. “You will have to defer seeing Mrs, Baker, then.” “I thought she might live near by,” said Filippo Novarro, for such was the name he gave. “ “Two years since she removed to Min- nesota,” said the merchant, with fluent falsehood. “Her son, however, is travel- ing in Europe.” “That at least will look as if she re- tained her fortune,” he said to himself, “Then I must not hope to meet her,” said Novarro. “When you write will you give her my profound respects?” “With pleasure, Senior Novarro,” said Walton, peaniye “Can I be of any service to you personally?” “Thank you, sir, no, I shall be very busy till I leave the city.” “Then let me express- my pleasure in eetne you,” said Walton, offering his and. / “The pleasure is mutual, Mr. Walton, I assure you,” said the stranger, bowing low. “Thank Heaven, I have got rid of you,” said Walton to himself, wiping the per- spiration from his brow. “But shall I al- ways be as lucky?” ~ CHAPTER XVI. ON BOARD THE PARTHIA, MI really on the Atlantic, bound for Europe?” said Ben to himself, as he paced the deck of the Par- thia, then several hours out, ‘ He found it hard to realize, for only a week before he had been in his quiet country home. wholly unconscious of the great change that Fate had in store for! him. He was not unfavorably affected by the new sea-life. Instead of making him sick, it only gave him a pleasant sense of exhilaration. With Major Grafton it was different. He was a very poor sailor, He was searcely out of port before he began to feel dizzy, and was obliged to retire to his state-room. He felt almost. irri- tated when he saw how much better Ben bore the voyage than he. “One would think you were an old sailor, instead of me,” he said. “I have crossed the Atlantic adozen times, and yet the first whiff of sea air lays me on my back, while you seem to enjoy it.” ‘So I do at present,” answered Ben; “You may tell the steward to bring Ben promptly complied with the major’s request. He felt glad to do something to as a private secretary; but, at any rate, he was able to be of service, and this pleased He had nocomplaint to make of Major Grafton. The latter saw that he He blamed himself. for One day, while Major Grafton was in .“You seem to enjoy the voyage, young | Yes, sir; very much.” “You are not alone?” “No, Iam traveling with Major Graf- ~ . whom he had rendered a great service.” ties heqneathed him by my uncle, to] ton. spe ey iehioun he bad'r ‘great 3 _ “Indeed!” said the gentleman, in sur- they are simply impertinent,” said the major, you called afterward hear | cided what to say. “Poor Philip died; but itis a subject. resemble him very closely, and that was my chief object in taking you as a com- panion. I don’t really need a private sec- retary, a8 you have probably found out,” somethin It suits me to have a companion; TI hate being alone, As long as my wishes, I will provide for you.”. have you talk too much to strangers about me or m Bolton, I prefer that youshould keep him a a distance. He is not a fit companion or you.” surprise, for Bolton had seemed to him a very respectable sort of man. answered the major, emphatically. is a confirmed gambler, and is cultivating aeaer society because he thinks you may into a snare.” Ben, indignantly, for it didn’t. occur to him to donbt the positive statement of Major Grafton. pleased with suspicions of a man who might impart dangerous information, needn’t suggest _to you to keep the man {ata distance. oard. Where does he keep himself?” “He seldom leaves his state-room, has been sick ever since he started.” summer in Switzerland. Over it.” “IT think you are mistaken, sir. not with Major Grafton at that time.” he called him Philip,” “He calls me so, but that is not my name.” “Do you mean to say that you were not with the major at that time?” “I did not know there was such a man at that time.” “Humph! I don’t understand it,” said James Bolton (this was the traveler’s name). “Ido remember, however, hear- ing that the boy, then called Philip, died at Florence.” “I think that settles it,” said Ben. “ Whoever the poor fellow may have been that died, I am sure that it was not 1.” “Are you Major Grafton’s adopted son, or ward?” “No, sir; I am _ his private secretary. That is, 1 was hired in that capacity, though as yet I have not had much writ- ing to do.” 7 “You are lucky. Take care you don’t die like the other boy.” “I will try to live, I assure you sir.” “By the way, just mention my name to the major—James Bolton, of London, I dare say he will remember me, Just say that I occupied the room opposite bis in the Hotel des Bergues, in Geneva, and that we went to Chamounix together. I should be glad to renew my acquaintance with him, whenever he feels well enough to come on deck.” “I will mention you to him, Mr. Bol- ton,” said Ben, politely. Our young hero took an early opportun- ity of keeping his promise. ee his next visit to the state-room, he said: “Major Grafton, I met a gentlemen on deck this morning, who wishes to be re- membered to you.” “Who is it?” asked the major, quickly, raising his head from the pillow of his berth. ; “He says his name is Bolton—James Bolton, of London.” “Don’t know him!” said the major, shortly. “He says that he was with you at the Hotel des Bergues, in Geneva, Switzer- land, last summer; also that he went with you to Chamounix.” : “What else did he say?” asked the major, who seemed unpleasantly affected by the méntion of Bolton’s name. i He thought I was with youat the ime.” “Hal What did you say?” “T told him he was mistaken.” “Don’t tell these fellows too much; with a frown. “What more did he say?” 3 ‘ “He said you ae hada boy with you whom ip, and that this boy, as he , died at Florence.” Ben looked inquiringly at the major, as “It is true,” he said, after a pause. paler I don’t like to speak of it. You “I wish you did, sir. I would like to do’ to earn my wages.” ~ “Don’t trouble yourself on that score. ou conform to “Thank you, sir.” “But hark you, Philip! I don’t care to affairs. Now, as to this man “Ts he a bad man?” asked Ben, in some “He is athoroughly unprincipled ae “ e ave money. He is trying to lead you “Then I was deceived in him,” said “Quite natural, Philip,” said Grafton, having aroused the boy's “Of. course, T » come under his influence.” — rise. “I didn’t know the major was on He “I remember meeting the major last You were sick at the time, but from your present ap- pearance, I judge that you got bravely I was “You were not! That isstrange. Sure- ly there was a boy with him; I remember |to make myself contented till my de moment just think of your n “T shall bear in sir,” said Ben. 4 od “I think I have checkmated this m)_ dling Bolton,” said the major to hims in a tone of satisfaction. hen, a few hours later, Bolto proached Ben, and asked: “Have - spoken to Major Grafton about me?” coldly answered: “Yes, sir.” “Did. he remember me?” questio Bolton. “Yes, sir.” “I thought he would. Are we like] see him on deck soon?” “No, sir, I think not.” Ben ee so coldly that Bolton garded him with a puzzled look, could not help seeing that the bey q not care to continue the conversatif — and, with a bow of farewell, joinea 4 mind what you 4 other ae in a promenade, oe “T should like to have asked him ale tle more about the boy I am succeedin PA thought Ben; but he respected the majq_ blushi wishes, and kept aloof from Bolton } his w: A MYSTERIOUS BURGLAR.| - BY EMERSON BENNETT. @ iI will call Wentville, and which, haps, contains a larger number hotel, and has an old-fashioned s line running through it, it is not a ple and the farmers flock in from the co try, it is a rather dull village. 50 handsome, and very stylish lady, v informed the landlord that if it w weeks, in case she should desire to ft main that length of time, eS you 8 | the remainder of the voyage. wealthy citizens in proportion to.its Pp of much resort for strangers from abro me years ago quite a ripple of int agreeable to him. she would like to “I can easily accommodate ime,” replie ter he w , sl } So t “Provided you can be satisfied of m ters a respectability and my ability and promp) little (TO BE CONTINUED.) _—————__ > _____ N the interior of Virginia there quiet little country town which ulation than any other in the State. Though it boasts of at least one fi In fact, except when the court is | session, or a fair is being held the est was created in Wentville by the rival at the Wentville House of a yous gage board for a few days, with privilege of extending the same to a madam, for any length of t the landlord, “provided——’ ness to pay for all I order,” pursued tl} rival lady, with a. charming smile, as the ot, ee t er seemed to hesitate. _» fer ge “Why, the fact is, madam,” resumé let to mine host, with a slight flush of embai Wa: rassment, “you see—the fact is—as Iwa and } saying—in short—pardon me—but it {| incog so unusual for a lady stranger tocon| . Yes alone to——” + hours “I understand,” interrupted the othe with a kind of laughing sigh, “a respeq and, able lady is not supposed to ive at : ere a. ravel and enjoy herself without havi th st ome kind of a man to take care of } Aggatens Well, I have a man, a husband, in fa ay whose business is now taking him to te many places within a radius of a hu ta dred miles from here, and who is-so co} ® Wel stantly on the move that I do not ea tl 4 to keep him company if I can avoid 16 I want rest; and he told me to come nrint, Wentville and remain here till he shou will < join me, which might be within a weel andl and might not be for three or four wee th . He spoke of this hotel in the highe ryt terms, though remarking at. the sa > h time that his knowledge had ‘not b Se ene obtained through a Pee visit, by tly from a gentleman of his acquaintancl — Ia y It is quite probable that you have neve Eee heard of my husband; but he is well te known in Richmond, and in many plac char in this region.” , : re tn “Will you favor me with his name antly politely asked the landlord. of co “Morelake — Walter Morelake,” a passe swered the lady, “of the firm of Mo thwar lake, Bonbright & Co., wholesale con with | mission merchants, of Baltimore, Mar¥ and wv land.’ round Well, Mrs. Morelake,” rejoined th proud host, with a graceful bow, “Iam_ no: perfectly satisfied, and it will afford great pleasure to have you for a guest ¢ whatever time it may®%uit your cony ience and inclination to honor us wi your company.” “Thank you, and now if I ean find room to suit meI think I shall be al lord and master comes to claim Those aree my trunks,” pointing to” of ev couple which had just been put doy had re from the stage-coach in which she h Ww arrived. “And now, Mr.—a—a——” “Holland, madam.” w “Oh, yes, Holland. I could not for | ame, tho I have heard my husband mention _ I do not care to have you hice more.than once. Now, Mr. Hollan I was saying, I am going to intrus iat you @ with a little bit of a secret. Tama blue 4} stocking.” d thismp “A blue stocking, madam?” repeated r to himst the landlord, with the air of one who would like to be considered knowing, , Bolton @ and yet does not exactly comprehend; “Have and naturally his eyes went down to her it me?” HB feet, which were indeed as_ prettily {shaped feet as any landlord ever saw, and were certainly not covered with blue _ stockings. sr _ “Yes,” pursued the lady, smiling to questi 01 we likel¥ herself, but helping the landlord out of ' the mist in a lady-like manner, “you - know blue stocking is the pet name for Bolton } a literary lady—a lady who writes books 1 look. } and articles for the popular periodicals the bey q of the day—and originated in a cele- dnversati? brated literary club in London, where _ joined 4 the female members donned that pecu- de 7 liar article of apparel and subsequently d him a became proud of the distinction.” — ucceedinf “Ah, yes—exactly—I know!" said the themajq blushing landlord, glad to be able to see Bolton | his way clear. “And I congratulate you / On being one of the great writers that ) | everybody reads and talks about. I | _ never expected to be so honored in this sam _ Out-o’-the-way country place.” _ 'GLAR.| “But what I have told you is a pro- *| found secret,” said the smiling lady; “and ‘| isnot to be breathed to a living soul— ‘| except perhaps, your wife; and I would = | not have mentioned it at all, only that ) it seemed necessary to account for my there ig peculiarity in desiring a very retired which ¥ Yroom, where I can spend a great portion which, p¢ Of my time with my door locked against number | intrusion. The fact is, I need perfect to.its Pee gulct, in order to be able to compose with State. facility; and I must have one of the most t one fi} Secluded rooms in your hotel, either on oned sta} * the first or second floor, and that retired not a pla part of the building, if such a thing be omabroa possible, where nobody passes, day or night. Of course I wish it understood hat I write for the love of it, and not or mere pay.” -M™used the landlord, “which occupies an by the ® angle between the front and back build- f a your ngs, and is retired enough in all con- lady, wh Borne, but the apartment is small, and if it w& has only one window, and, being heavily like to @ Shaded, is gloomy even in daylight.” with “Just the thing, I think,” replied Mrs. 16 toa Morelake, with animation. “Please let sire tore me see it.” ‘The landlord showed her to it, and ate yo she was delighted; nothing could be bet- »” replie ter, she said. ' So the literary lady took up her quar- fied of m ters at the Wentville Hotel, in the quiet 1d promp| little town of Wentville, to await the ar- arsued t} Yrival of her husband, and in the mean- s the ot}, qime to throw off such_scintillations of \ her genius as must find vent in an out- ’ resume let to the intellectual world. le of inti of embai Was herimportant secret kept sacredly, —as Iwd@ and her precious self allowed to remain -but it | . incognito x tocont . Yes, perfectly sacred, for three mortal | hours, until the almost bursting land- he othe) lady, who had received it from her hus- ‘a resped band, could get out to proclaim it to her ve eS | hearest neighbors, and they to spread it it haviy ll over the sleepy town, and wake up ‘e of heee the aristocratic dames to the fact that Eth face a great literary character had come him to 4 #Mong them, and wished to remain un- f a hu} Known, and be considered no more than is-so col ®¢Ommon mortal. : not ¢ Well, the result of all this was that the distinguished stranger at once be- came an object of great curiosity to the aristocratic but gossiping ladies of Went- ville—and for that matter to their hus- bands, brothers, and fathers also—and the very next day after her arrival some | of the highest-toned ones began to call on her and invite her to their dwellings, ‘so that, if peace, rest, and quietness were _ really what she desired in coming to the place, she was now in a fair way not to get either. Mics: Morelake, however, was a very charming and amiable lady, who seemed _ to take all this annoyance very pleas- antly and philosophically; and instead _ of complaining that her time was tres- 8 passed on, and her literary designs € thwarted, she received all her visitors with +e courtesy that warmed ‘and won'their hearts, and then began a round of return calls that made them all proud and happy. Thus days slipped away so pleasantly as scarcely to be noted, and the great literary lady became_the_ sensation of the place, to be talked about by all, admired by the male sex and envied by er own. Dinners were am no Z fhe her, parties were be made for her, and there was serious talk my de f getting up a ball in her honor; and alm, yet nor a soul in the town had a particle ne f evidence that she was what gossip had represented her to be. ¥ ts the sleepy town of Wentyille was thus keeping itself awake over the sensation caused by the advent of this fair stranger, another sensation suddenly sprung up of a very different character. ‘It was proclaimed one morning that » old family mansion of Abner Rich- one of the oldest and wealthiest re sn RON ire ea lm rerentesieiens eae = ob “T have one room on the second floor,” GOOD NEWS. residents of the place, had been entered|than the dear literary belle of the last by a burglar during the preceding night, | few weeks, Mrs. Waiter Morelake. and money, jewelry, diamonds, and plate carried off, to the value of ten thousand dollars. As no bolts were broken, it was sup- posed the thief or thieves had entered by means of keys, and many there were who believed that some of the servants of the family had been concerned in the robbery, A large reward was offered for the ap- prehension of the burglar, and recovery of the stolen property, and detectives came from abroad to work up the case; but after a few days of investigation, being unable to gain the faintest clew, they abandoned the search and went home. Just as the sensation caused by this mysterious crime was beginning to die down, so as not to be the chief topic of conversation at all times and in all places, another rich family, by the name of Granville, was robbed in the same mysterious manner, their loss ‘being be- gween five and six thousand dollars. This second felony caused greater ex- citement than the first, for the reason that it proved the audacious villain or villains to be still in the place and work- ing without fear of detection. “Really, Mrs. Granville,” said the liter- ary stranger, as, with many others, she called the next day upon the lady of the mansion, “these two mysterious rob beries, coming so near together, make me quite nervous. At the same time, if I can ever get hold of the facts, I-——” Here she suddenly paused, and blushed, and looked embarrassed, and one of the other ladies chimed in: “You will weave them into one of your charming stories, of course.” “Ab,” sighed Mrs. Morelake, “I should have kept my secret.” “Oh, no, for then you would have de- prived us all of the great pleasure of knowing, admiring, and loving you,” was the response, “You-have all been so very, very kind,” rejoined Mrs. Morelake, putting her hand- kerchief to her eyes, “that henceforth, wherever I am in body, my heart will always be in Wentville.” “And we hope and pray no thief will ever carry it off,” said another lady, And then all laughed. | The very night following three other dwellings were robbed of an aggregate of seven thousand dollars; and the next day that quiet old town became alive wit fresh excitement, which culminated in a public meeting, the offer of an immense reward, the influx of a number of de- tectives, the close watching of strangers, and the suspecting of many innocent persons, ; Days passed on, and the thief, or thieves, remained undetected, and the lost property undiscovered, though no new burglaries took place in the mean- time. One day Mrs. Morelake received a let- ter, which, on reading, caused her to burst into tears. “My dear husband,” she exclaimed, “feeling unwell, returned to Baltimore, and now lies dangerously sick with the typhoid fever. I must go to him at once.” Of course everybody sympathized with her, and her lady friends hastened to the hotel to take leave of her, mingling their ‘tears with hers. “Our acquaintance has not been long, as men count time,” said one, with a sen- timental sigh, “but it has been very sweet, and you must never forget me!” “I shall never be entirely happy till I see you again,” observed another. “Oh, you must write at once, and soon come again,” urged a third. “Tt is like* parting with a dear, dear friend whom I have known all my life,” remarked a fourth, . And so they went on, and embraced, and kissed, and shed tears of sorrow. The fatal hour came, and the coach was drawn up at the door. . A large crowd of lady friends did their farewell kissing and shed their farewell tears, and a large crowd of gentlemen friends shook hands, with lifted hats, and regretted it was not in order for them to kiss and weep also, “I shall never, never, never forget Wentville and the kindness of its dear inhabitants,” sobbed the trembling Mrs. Morelake, as the bowing landlord held open the coach-door for her to enter, The boot being already full of baggage, Mrs. Morelake’s two trunks were in the act of being hoisted to the roof, when one of them slipped, and fell, and struck the wheel, and then burst open. Well, what then? Why, then out rolled before the as- tounded eyes of the good, kind citizens of { Wentville some of the missing plate and jewelry for which a large reward had been offered. _ For a few seconds there was a dead silence-—-everybody seemed struck dumb —and then from the men went up a wild shout, and from the women hysterical shrieks. The mysterious burglar was no other The culprit turned pale at first, and then folded her arms and smiled defiance. The ladies, dear souls, would have torn her to pieces in their fury—some of the enraged gentlemen might have helped them—but the officers of the law stepped forward, arrested, and protected her. Of course, all her statements about having a merchant husband, and being a literary writer were false. She was an experienced thief and burglar. By visiting the houses as a dear friend, she had had an opportunity to see where everything was kept. She had a male dress and burglar tools in one of her trunks, and by means of a rope ladder she had descended from and ascended to her retired room in the dead hours of the night. By taking impressions of the locks, she knew what skeleton keys would open them, and therefore entered the dwellings, closets, chests, and drawers without using force or losing any valuable time. Well, she was tried, convicted, and sentenced to ten years in the penitentiary. Wentville bas since settled down into the same old, dull, quiet, aristocratic place it was before the advent of our adventuress, and it is our opinion that it would not be safe for any stranger to wake it up in the manner she had done, Some of the same dear, sweet ladies are living there yet; but whenever anything recalls to their minds the manner in which they were taken in by a female thief, they become just as mad as any- body need care to see, or hear, or feel, ea — ees THE FROZEN WATCHER. BY ROGER STARBUCK, — ¢ ——_— ‘fea ROM the deck of the whaling bark IE Centreville the morning watch be- L of held the fog, which for a week had shrouded the ice-covered waters of the Arctic Ocean, roll heavenward in thin, fleecy clouds, pierced by the rays of the rising sun. Far and near, first re- vealing their dim outlines, and gradually becoming more clearly defined, the huge floating ee were seen like phantoms, tossing their restless summits as their bases were washed by contending tides. “Man the mastheads!” shouted the captain, as he emerged from the cabin, “and keep a sharp lookout for the lost boat !” The boat to which he alluded was the second mate’s, which had now been ab- sent from the bark eight days. “It’s my opinion,” remarked an old gray-headed tar forward, “that we'll never see that boat again. This is the third time that the second mate has been lost sight of, and it’s the third time that always brings things to a crisis, accordin’ to the song, which says: «Twice lost, twice found ; ] The third time dead and drowned!” “Ay, ay, Ben,” answered his chum, Ned Brunt. “I’m afraid you’re right, though I can’t help hoping that we’ll see the boat again. There were some good men in that boat.” “So there was, lad, so there was,” re- plied Ben, “and it’s sad to think that they’ve all perished. The second mate was never a careful ofiicer. He always had a fancy for going off on his own course—for getting separated from us when we lowered for whales—and now you see what’s come of it. His boat is lost, and with it his good men.” “P’raps they've been Bineee up by some other craft,” said Ned. “That may have been,” replied his chum, “but I’m afraid that no such good luck has happened; for the craft herea- bout ain’t very plenty. We're as high up as seventy-one degrees north latitude, and there ‘re few whalers that come so far,” , By this time, the fog having almost en- tirely cleared, the greater part of the Centreville’s crew had posted themselves in such parts of the vessel as afforded the most extensive view of the sea. The tops, the top-gallant yards, and the fly jib-boom, were blackened b the forms of the men, who, leaning sideways, for- ward and backward, scanned the vast waters with keen and anxious glances. The first officer, who had climbed to the main top-gallant cross-trees, with a good spy-glass, pointed the instrument toward a large floe to windward, and for a full quarter of an hour continued to scrutinize the floating masses. “Do you see anything, sir?” inquired one of his companions—the fourth mate, whose. brother was among the crew of the lost boat—“do you see anything? If so, tell me, and——.” . ; “Ay, aye interrupted the mate. “I do see something, but I can’t exactly make it out. Your eyes are keener than min = perhaps you will be able to tell wha s,” * 24435 ee enna cede etree — The fourth mate took the proffered glass. “Where is it, sir?” he inquired, after a moment’s survey. “I see nothing.” “Look a little more to the left—there- where that berg looms up uear the farth- est edge of the floe.” The fourth mate obeyed, and the next moment uttered a joyful exclamation. “It is a man—a man standing on the summit of the berg!” he shouted. “Tell the captain, and have a boat lowered at once !” “Are you sure it's a man?” inquired the mate. “It looks to me more likea seal or a large bird.” “No, sir—I am positive it is a human being!” cried the other. “I could swear to it; and there can be no doubt it is one of the boat’s crew—perhaps my brother.” “All right—we’ll lower,” cried the mate, and quickly descending to the deck he ordered his crew to clear away the larboard boat. The men obeyed, and the little vessel dropped splashing into the water, A moment later, manned by good oars- Pg it was speeding swiftly toward the oe. The latter on one side was walled by frowning ramparts and precipices of ice, that lifted their jagged, rifted summits high in air, and flashed with dazzling brightness in the rays of the rising sun. “Do you see the—the object now, Mr. Reynolds?” inguired the mate, turning to. the fourth officér, who was stationed by his side. “The man? Yes,” answered Reynolds. “Steady as you are, sir!” he added. “We'll soon reach the berg on which he stands.” As he’spoke, a huge sea bird, that for some time had been wheeling in circles above his head, screamed ominously, and flapped its broad wings with a noise like the “shivering” of a topsail. “TI don’t like that,” said Ben, who ulled the ’midship oar... “I never snowed it to be a sign of good luck yet.” “Hist !” gritted the fourth mate through his clenched teeth, “No croaking now! A presentiment tells me that the figure erched upon the berg is that of my rother, hat is to hinder us from get- ting him into the boat, I should like to know, ?” “ Hee-noo-hee !” muttered a dark-skinned Kanaka in the bow. “Get into de boat! Me hab dream last night—bad dream— and me think dis dream come true.” The boat was now so near the berg al- luded to that the form upon its summit showed to all who glanced toward it the unmistakable Pie of a tall man. He was seated upon a projecting shelf of the ice, lashed with a rope to a crystal ’ column behind him. His face, being turned away from the approaching boat, could not be seen, but the fourth mate declared that he recognized the form and dress of his brother. “That may sson be proved,” answered the first officer. “He will probably turn his face toward us if we hail him.” The hail was thrice repeated, with no better result. The man remained as motionless as astatue, his head still turned away from the approaching boat. A terrible fear crept into the hearts of the officers. aR turned pale and ex- changed uneasy glances, “Something’s wrong,” whispered Ben to the man behind him. “I knowed that. there was no good luck in store for us.” At that moment the mate descried the fragments of a boat near the edge of the floe. One of the pieces of wood was-~ icked up soon after, and found to bear | che name “ Maria,” painted in large red letters. Ke “Ay, ay,” said the mate, with a heavy sigh; “there can be no doubt now about the fate of the seeond officer and his crew. Here are the fragments of his stoven boat. The rest can be easily im- agined, The men, with the exception of the one upon the ice-cliff have all gone down in their watery grave,” As he spoke the boat struck the hase of the’berg, and headed by the fourth mate, several men scaled the rugged ice wal aus sprang to the side of the motionless gure, “Brother! my dear brother!” cried Reynolds. e have come to——” He paused abruptly. The face into which he pee was rigid and expres- sionless; the fixed, staring eyes were ese vailed by a thin glaze of ice. “Dead! frozen to death!” cried Ben. “A sad fate! I knowed we'd have no. good luck. Poorlad! poor lad! Theonly one left of that unfortunate crew, he prchesny. éame up here, the better to eep a lookout himself with a rope that he mightn’t he tossed off. Well, mates, it’s easy to see never to wake up.” We have only to add t fourth mate, formerly the merriest' man. aboard, became one of the most reserv “ and melancholy. eee or the bark, a-Jashin’ what was the result. He fell asleep rs the lifeless form, being conveyed to the bark, was buried at sunset, and from that hour the A444 GOOD NEWS. [This Story Will Not Be Published in Book-Form. } The Young Ranchers: FIGHTING THE SIOUX. pinahaecEiAialiesticgy By EDWARD S. ELLIS, Author of “Ransomed,” “Enola,” ‘Boy Pioneer Series,’ “Wyoming Series,” ‘“Deerfoot Series,” “Log Cabin Series,” “Among the Esguimauz,” ete. — ("THe Youne RancueEers’ commenced in No. 142 Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. | CHAPTER XXXIII. BREAD CAST UPON THE WATERS. {x47 HEN the Sioux who had rushed WyY\\/. out on the open plain to the help of the wounded Starcus gathered around him they were quick to perceive that his life was due to the mercy of his conqueror, but their hos- tility toward the latter was not dimin- ished one whit by the discovery; they were as eager for his life as ever, and proved it by firing several shots after him as he rode away. The wounded arm was bandaged in a .piece of the lining of Warren Starr’s coat. The crimson stain showed through the cloth, though the flow uf blood was checked. Sound and unhurt as was Star- cus in all other respects, he was unable to use the injured limb, and was therefore as useless in any impending hostilities as if out of existence. As the party moved back toward the base of the ridge there was a consultation among them as to what was best todo. Starcus expressed a more venomous ran- cor than ever against the white people, and especially against the one that had brought him low. He regretted that he was to be helpless for weeks to come, with a permanent injury for life, When the leader of the band suggested that he should return to the nearest village and remain until able to take the war-path again he vehemently opposed it. He was not willing to retire in such a humiliating manner, but the leader in- sisted, and after sulking a while the “civilized” Indian consented. Being a capital horseman, he leaped un- assisted upon his pony, and unwilling in his anger so much as to bid the warriors good-by, he struck the animal into aswift gallop, heading toward the _ village, where he was expected to stay until fully -recoyered. The action of the warrior was singular, After riding some distance he glanced behind him at the ridge he had left. He seemed to be in an irritable mood, for he uttered an impatient exclamation and urged his beast to a faster gait. His wound pained him, but the agitation of his mind and his own stoical nature caused him to pay no heed to it. Indeed nothing more could be done for the hurt. When he looked back the second time he had reached a point for which he had been making since his departure. He was out of sight of any of his people who might be watching him. An abrupt change in the course of his ; pony was instantly made, and he sent nim flying at the height of his speed. Strange as it may seem, he was aiming for the same point toward which Warren Starr started some time later. He did not spare his animal. He went like a whirlwind, and as though his life depended upon reaching his destination - without delay. Warren Starr read the _ trail aright when he interpreted it as meaning that the pony before him was going as fast as he could. Starcus was eee his way, still’ mounted, over ‘the rough section, where the youth expected to meet great diffi- - eulty with his animal, when he suddenly discovered that white people were imme- diately in his front. He drew up, and was in doubt for a minute whether to flee _or hold his ground. Asquad of cavalry from Fort Meade confronted him, They numbered nearly twenty, under the command of a young lieutenant a recent graduate of West ' Point. They were accompanied by a - couple of Indian scouts famiilar with the 24 country. - Stareus was quick to make a signal of friendship, and then rode forward to _ meet the soldiers, who had halted upon seeing him.. - The Sioux was well known to the two ‘Indians, the officer and several of the cavalry. They knew he had joined the hostiles, and were therefore suspicious of him. ‘This fact rendered his self-imposed task one of considerable difficulty. But after a while he convinced them of his ee i aces _ The lieutenant had been sent out by - the commandant at Fort Meade to bring in the rancher and his family, their scouts having reported them in imminent ‘aanger. Starcus explained that the par- ties for whom they were looking were at no great distance, haying left the ranch the night before to hasten tothe fort. One of the ranchmen had been killed, and the rest were in great peril.. Starcus said he had started to ride to the fort for help, and it was most fortunate that he encountered it so near, when the passing moments were beyond importance. The young officer was sagacious. He could have asked some very embarrassing questions relating tothe wound of the mes- senger, but he wisely forbore. It is not best at all times to let a person know how much is plain to you and how much you suspect. Evidently Starcus was earn- est in his desire to befriend the imperiled ones, the fact that he was journeying alone in the direction of the fort consti- tuting the strongest evidence. He explained that the ridge where he believed the whites were doing their best to escape the Sioux was much more ap- proachable from the other side. He de- seribed the ground minutely, and the two scouts present confirmed the accuracy of his statements. When the lieutenant proposed that Starcus should act as their guide the truth could no longer be kept back. He made a clean breast of everything. He had been with the hostiles. He was among the fiercest. He had tried to shoot young Starr, who, more fortunate than he, brought him wounded from his horse. When he lay on the ground, at his mercy, the young man rode up, spoke words of kindness and bandaged his wound. And in doing this the youth proved himself more of a conqueror than Ba had done by his excellent marksmanship. He won the heart of the Indian, who was now eager to prove his gratitude by any act in his power. He unhesitatingly answered that he would serve as the guide to the cavalry. But once again the officer displayed rare tact. If Stareus was sincere in his newly awakened friendship for the whites, it might be in his power to ac- complish a great deal of good by going among his people and using persuasion and argument; but if he should appear as an active ally of the whites such power would be gone, and it would be unsafe at any time in the future to trust himself among them. “No,” replied the lieutenant, “return to your own people; do what you can to show them the mistake they are making in taking the war-path; you may effect much good; my guides will do as well as you to direct us to the spot where the whites are in urgent need of our help; you say it is not far, and I am_ hopeful that we shall be in time to save them.” Accordingly Starcus parted from the cavalry, and was on his return to join his people and to attempt to carry out: the wise suggestion of the officer when he encountered the young rancher, mak- ing all haste on foot to secure the help which was much nearer than he dared to hope. After exchanging friendly greetings Stareus told the story which the reader has just learned. Warren listened with amazement and delight. He had indeed heaped coals of fire upon his enemy’s head by his for- bearance, and the bread cast upon the waters had returned before many days. “You have acted nobly,” was the com- ment of the youth. “Can it undo the harm of the last few days?” asked the Indian, with a troubled expression. “Far more, for 1 am sure the timely news given to the lieutenant will save gee bed “And yet I was their enemy.” “And are now their friend. You lost ae head in the frenzy that is spreading ike a prairie fire among your people; your footsteps were. guided by Provi- dence, otherwise you would have missed the cavalry; they would have ridden to the ranch, and my folks would have been left as much without their help as though the soldiers had stayed at the fort. Be- sides,” added the young rancher, “you can do as the officer suggested—show your own people the ‘right course for them to follow.” “TI will try,” replied Starcus, firmly; “I cannot understand how it was my senses | forsook me, but they have come back, and,” he said, with a meaning smile, “I think they will stay.”, “I am sure of that, and you will do. much good.” “Well, good-by,” said Stareus, reach- ing down his unwounded arm. “I hope we shall meet again under pleasanter conditions,” ; Warren warmly pressed the hand and stood for a minute gazing after the strange fellow, who rode toward the nearest Indian village with the deter- mination to carry out his new intentions, It may as well be said that he honestly did so, and there is little doubt that his work was effective in more than one respect, and did much to ameliorate many peoiee _ the sad incidents that speedily owed, | Left alone once more the young rancher | stood for some minutes in doubt as to his right course. It was idle to push on to the fort on foot, and he was at much dis- advantage, now that he had no animal at command. He decided to follow the cavalry. He had forgotten to ask Starcus how far off they were, but judged the dis- tance was not great. The trail of the In- dian’s horse gave him the necessary guid- ance, and he broke once more into his loping trot, despite the rough nature of the ground. A half-hour sufficed to take him to the scene of meeting, when he turned and began following the foot-prints of the horses at a faster gait than before. Inasmuch as he was now a goodly num- ber of miles from the bowlders where his friends were at bay before the attacking Sioux, he hardly expected to reach the place in time to take a hand in the de- cisive scenes or even to witness them. Stareus had left such accurate directions, and the Indian guides were so familiar with everything, that little delay was probable. The distant sound of firing spurred him to still greater speed, and he ran so fast and hard that ere long he was com- pelled to drop toa walk to regain his breath, Great as was his hope, he felt much misgiving, The cavalry might arrive in time, but in the flurry sad mishaps were probable, It might be that his father or mother or Dot or Tim had fallen before the vigilance of the assailants, He could not feel any real happiness until he ee beyond peradventure that all was well, The shot fired by Tim Brophy the in- stant he caught sight of the warrior hur- rying along the trail, with no thought that he was so close to the whites, was the best thing in every way that could have happened, for it not only wiped out the rash miscreant, but told those imme- diately behind him that the fugitives were at bay and ready to fight to the bit- ter end. There was an instant withdrawal be- yond reach of the rifles, of whose effect- iveness they had received more than one striking example that night, It took, a considerable while for the Sioux to learn the whole truth, The fugi- tives had intrenched themselves in what was undoubtedly the most secure position near, and were on the watch. Gradually working round so as to inclose them against flight, the trail of the young rancher was discovered. A little investi- gation made known that he had mounted his pony and started off for assistance. But help was no nearer than Fort Meade, and asthe Indians naturally viewed, it could not possibly arrive before the morrow. If this were so, abundant time remained in which to encompass the destruction of the defenders. The Sioux decided to maintain watch, but to defer the decisive assault until late at night. And it was this decision that saved the little party. Within the following two hours the friendly scouts reported the situation to the lieutenant of cavalry, who began. his arrangements for an im- mediate attack upon the hostiles. The latter, however, were as watchful as their enemies, and were quick to learn their new danger. They withdrew and disappeared after the exchange of a few shots, fired under such circumstances that no harm was done on either side. The rescued whites were condueted to the foot of the ridge on the other side, where they were so disposed among their friends that all were furnished with transportation, and the journey to Fort Meade was begun or rather resumed so far as they were concerned. Not far away they met. the young rancher, bréathless and in an agony of distress. His joy may be imagined upon learning the happy truth. All were saved without so much as a hair of their heads being harmed. The next day Warren returned for his pony, and found him so much better that he was able to walk with little trouble. The youth was too considerate to ask him to carry any load, and the two made the journey with the rider on foot. And so it came about that Providence mercifully extricated our friends from the danger which threatened more than once the ruin of all. (tHE END. ] . THE Tsland of Cuba was discovered by Colum. bus on October 28, 1492, when it is believed he entered a bay near Neuvitas, on the north coast. He gave it the name of Juana, in honor of Prince Juana, or John, son of Isabella. Other the natives, Cuba, is retained, eet mernrnrmrrnneree : “The Tin Box Mystery; or, the Stolen Railroad Bonds,” by Edward Stratemeyer, is indeed a very interesting story. Begins nest week, Cpa tt Bape names were afterward given to it, but that of | A Scene in A Detective’s Life. BY J. B. G, FEW years ago, I was traveling w& on one of the floating palaces which 4 great “father of waters!” was @ young man on board, who would have been prepossessing in personal ap- pearance, had it not been for an air of general recklessness and _ dissipation which pervaded his countenance. I was then a police officer from Chicago, and was on the track of a counterfeiter who had been operating largely in and around that place. Ihad no description of his person, and must, therefore, rely entirely on my sbrewdness for a detection. One day I saw this person endeavoring to get up a guiet game of cards, as he called it, which without much difficulty he accom- | plished, for it was, at that time, and in those places, a no uncommon occurrence. They passed the evening quietly laying euchre, the stakes being small. But the next evening the game was continued, the stakes being at the commencement one dollar acorner. But he, becoming dis- satisfied, soon proposed to change the game to bluff. After a little talk, it was consented to, and the play soon became very high and exciting. One of the play- ers soon lost to a large amount. retired to my state-room, opening off the large cabin. Ihad but just lain down, when I heard loud voices, and almost im- mediately the report of a pistol. Ina moment I rushed out, and saw in the center of a crowd the young gambler, weltering in his blood on the cabin floor. _ A surgeon, who happened to be on the boat, was bending over him. The bal] was lodged in his chest, and he was evi- dently fast approaching death. As soon hes saw me, he turned his head, and said: “Mr. B——, you do not know me, but I know you well, and know what you are here for; you are after me, and I am, in- deed, guilty of the crime of counterfeit- ae Oh, I would that was all.” e then uttered a prayer, and was soon placed in a bed, and his wound cared for. A somewhat lengthy examination proved that his wound was not fatal, and that in ashort time he would be as well ag ever. Of course, he accompanied me back to. Chicago, and in a few imonths*was tried and sentenced to a long term in the penitentiary, {I have had many similar adventures, but I think that this was about the strangest. Seen an ee TY PE-MAKING. In making lead type, the first step is to cut a punch or die, one of which is re- quired for every letter. The letter is cut by a die-cutter, exactly like the letter on the type, on the end of a soft steel bar, after which the latter is hardened, and the workman takes an exact impression of the die on a piece of copper by ham- ee upon it.. This piece of copper (called the matrix} is then cut down un- tilitisexactly the width of the type tobe cast, and will fit into the end of a mold, which is asmall frame or box, made in two parts, so that it will open on a hinge. When closed, the inside (made of steel) forms a little box, exactly the size of the type to be cast. The mold is so made that it can be set wide or narrow, in order to’ accommodate any matrix. This. latter is fitted at one end of the mold, so that the letter on it will come in the middle of the little box. At the other end of the mold is a place into ‘ which the melted type-metal flows. The mold containing the matrix is now placed . in the casting-machine, which is operated - by hand. - After being cast, the typé re- quires to be rubbed by hand, squared up, and the grooves, seen at the bottom or outer side, cut by machinery. . ——_—_ >_> ————_——_ WHERE SOAP IS A LEGAL TENDER. At Dueretaro, near Mexico, soap is the currency of the place, and a legal tender for payment of debts. Thecakes are about the size of the familiar brown Windsor, and are each worth about three farthings. Each cake is stamped with the name of the town in which it is current, and that of the person authorized to manufacture and utter it. not current in another, Thus, Celaya soap will not pass at Dueretaro. It is not un- commonly used for ablutions, as so long as the stamp is legible it retains its mon- and return it with thanks. In portions of South America chocolate is used as cur- rency, as also are cocoanuts and. eggs. Corn.is still used for a similar purpose in some: parts of Norway, as opium is in parts of China, ‘ then adorned in such numbers the | There § I then | Soap money of one town is_ etary value, Occasionally’a man will bor- row acake of a friend, wash his hands, Po | e iT po a of b even ni BAD, ~ Life. weling ; which el's the There would nal ap- 1 air of Ipation I was xO, and ar who around of his ntirely . One to get led it, accom- and in rrence. laying Sut the inued, ement ng dis- ye the it was yecame 2 play- I then ff the down, st im- Ina n the mbler, 1 floor. n the e bal] iS evi- ; goon d, and but I ou are m, in- erfeit- S soon -d for, roved that ell as > back sS“was in the milar 3 Was > is to is re- is cut fer on 1 bar, , and 'ssion ham- opper n une tobe mold, de in on a ide of size is so rrow, rtrix, f the come Lt the into The laced rated é re- 1 up, m or GOOD NEWS. 2445 channel of the river. We must wade for | farther and farther the news of the escape. (This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.) several miles. It is our last and only| Before the first of the horsemen reached hope.” EXILED JO SIBERIA; VLADIMIR SARADOFE’S CRIME. BY WM. MURRAY GRAYDON, Author of ‘‘Commodore Frank.” [“EXILED TO SIBERIA” was commenced in No. 146. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) this prospect. They were suffering in- tensely now from the bitter cold. Platot gave them no time for deliberation. the running water, and they followed without hesitation. The Kara River is a river only in name. The channel is shal- Jow, and not more than thirty yards broad at the widest part. The water flows swiftly over agravel bed and among big stones that rise in profusion above the surface. Being fed entirely by moun- !across the valley heard nothing but the CHAPTER XVIII. ' FREE. |rapid tramp of their own footsteps. In kI2 “the stockade is firmer than I sup- & posed. It is impossible to loosen any => of the planks without tools. And even now our time must be nearly up.” “Ah, I have a plan!” whispered Mau- rice; “the stockade cannot be more than fifteen feet high. Take this log outside and stand it on end. log, and you, Platof=; shall climb over my back to the top. You are strong enough to pull us both after you, are you not?” “Yes, yes,” exclaimed Platoff, “was I blind not to think of it before? Pass me er ; iL FEAR we are lost,” cried Platoff, | that log out as quickly as possible. But itis more dangerous,” he added; “from the top of the stockade we may be seen by the men on guard in the sentry-boxes Outside. Butit is our last chance. We must not think of the risk.” During this conversation, Platoff was Standing in the narrow avenue, in plain View of any sentry who might chance that Way, and just around the angles were twenty or thirty armed soldiers. Maurice and Phil lifted the heavy log, and shoved One end at right angles through the open- ing. It stuck fast several times, but Platoff by main force dragged it clear, and lifting it in his arms placed it ata slight angle against the stockade. “Now, come on,” he whispered, and as- Sisting Maurice through the hole he lifted him tothe top of the log. Bidding him Cling firmly to the boards, he mounted behind him.