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Entered According to Act of Congress, wm the Year 1

» DY f ef & Sprith. w
Enlered as Seconsi-ciass

Srreer & Serre, Publishers.
31 Rose Street,

he Office of the Librarian af Congress,
Malier at the New Yor
New York,

Washingion, D. C.
. NLY., Post-Office.

New York. April 28, 1894. ev

$2.50 per Year.

SEPIption Prive, No. 208.

LITTLE HICKORY & MOUNTAIN EXPRESS:

Cg

FROM SWITCH-YARD TO LEVER.

By VICTOR ST. CLAIR,

Author of “Zig-Zag, the Boy Conjurer,’

“The Young Stone-Cutter,” ete

 

 

{“LITTLE HICKORY OF THE MOQUMPAIN EXPRESS’

 

was commenced fas! week.)
CHAPTER. IV.

}- “Is your powder diy, boys?” he continued,
| turning to his companions,
WALKING THE PLANK, “Dry as water!’’ repliel one ofthe others,
if as | whilé the third nodded his head.
i ? ee 7 ITTLE HICKORY was not likely to
4, ; | &/ escape his captors, and he was quickly
A 4 ‘/ overpowered and bound.
Ve Le Re

DASHING BURD GRASS HEADLONG TO THE GROUND IN HIS WILD RUSH,

LITTLE HICKORY BOUNDED ACROSS THE RAILS TOWARD THE GIRL.

“Thought you hatheleared us,’’ said

‘Shooting won't. do on this case, anyway
| said the
he who seemed to be the leader of the party.

chief. **What do' with
| him?’
: “] reckon we have plenty of rope, and there
|are trees handy,’’ said he who had not pre-
You played a desperate game, younker, but | viously spoken.
| you’ll find that it isn’t done till you are.

shall we

 

“That won’t do, neither, Say, boys, I have
he was by his plunge into the river.

s3si4

a better way. Can you get up one of the
bridge planks?’’

“No need of that, for here is one lying on
the side, if it’ll do for what you want.”’

‘‘Just the thing. Run one end out over the
edge of the bridge, not quite one-half its
length. Put it on the other side, for there is
no railing there.”

This order was quickly carried out, when
Little Hickory was dragged forward to the
spot.

Though it was too dark for him to see the
river with any distinctness, he“*knew from the
roaring of the rushing waters, that the stream
was made up of a series of cataracts.

“Step upon the plank!’ commanded the out-
- law leader. ‘

It wasno wonder if Little Hickory hesitated,
and he shuddered to think that after all he
had passed through within the past hour, he
was to die in this manner.

In the midst of his reflections the desperado
pushed him onto the fatal walk, saying
sharply:

_ “Step lively, younker!
it the sooner the agony will be over.

The quicker you do
You

have crossed our path once too many times. | : ) : t
ened to topple from its hinges under his gen-

Forward, till the plank tips, and no fooling!”

Knowing that, bound as he was, he was
going to certain death, Little Hickory ad-
vanced. until, as he raised his foot, the plank
tipped!

He shrank back then, saying:

“Why do youdo this? [have never harmed

you.”
‘*Y ou know too much of our bizness. Quick!

over there, before I kick you over!”

Again Little Hickory lifted his foot, but be-
fore it had descended so.as to touch the plank,
the sound of some one approaching the place
was heard, and with low cries,. the despera-
does turned at bay.

His fate for the moment averted, Little
Hickory paused, and glancing over his shoul-
der, saw the outlaw called Buck coming
“ swiftly toward the place.

“What's up?’ He asked.

“Ts that you, Buck? We thought you had
gone home. We have got that younker who
.played the dickens with our -plans, and we’re
just settling our account with him.

“What are you stopping there for; you in-
fernal little fool!’ cried the speaker, to our
hero, and he would have pushed him head-
foremost into the boiling flood if the other
had mot seized him by the arm, and held him

back. <

—*T can’t allow this! He——’’

“Little have you got to do about it!” ex-

claimed the leader. ‘‘Would you bring our
ete to the halter just for such a stripling as
nek Rs
_. “Make him promise he will never tell what
he has seen to-night. T’ll take chances on
that. “Whatdo you say, Andy Caswell? Will
you swear never to blab on what you have
seen to-night, if we will spare your hfe?”
' ‘Fierce mutterings left the other desperadoes’
-eoarse lips, as Little Hickory hesitated in. his

== Teply: ee
fee Boy though he was, and as dear as ‘life
with all its youthful fancies was to him, he
shrank from making such a vow. He knew
_ only too well that the men about him, with
_ possibly the exception of Buck, were wretches
entirely devoid of manhood, and the crime
_ they had attempted that night was one of the

blackest which could be devised by the in-
- genuity of fiends incarnate.

“Do you promise?’ repeated Buck,

“T cannot!” replied Little Hickory.
would be wrong——”? >

He was not allowed to finish the sentence,
for at that instant he was hurled headlong
into the dark depths of the Wild Red, a pierc-

ing cry of aise leaving his lips as he
plunged downward. — = .

As he had been dashedver the brink of the
bridge, he had felt the blade of a knife against
his hands, and the next moment he found
- that the ligature which had bound them had
been severed.

He was a good swimmer, and no sooner had
_ he touched the swirling waters, than he began
to exert himself to his utmost to stem the rag-
ing current. Pte

n spite of all he could do, he was borne
swiftly down stream, ever and anon dashed
against rocks lining the banks of the stream,
and debris floating upon its surface. Be!

- He was not carried far, however, before one
of his hands met with the branches of a tree,
fallen over the water, when he caught upon
them with all the strength he could muster.
By means of this kind he succeeded in drag-
ging bivaselt out of the turgid flood, and more
ead than alive, threw himself upon the bank
at full length. hg ze
_ Starting up, when he had regained his
breath somewhat, he failed to discover any
trace of his enemies. Doubtless they had
given him up as dead. Finally he staggered

_ to his feet, to move slowly through the tangled

geass, in the direction he felt the road must

OTs

Tt was as dark as ever, and the rain was be-
ginning to fall again. But this latter fact.
was of small account with him, drenched as

He could not have been very far from the

road at, the time he had left the river bank,
but it seemed a long time before he reAched

the anxiously looked-for highway. No doubt

he wandered from a'direct course, but in his
thankfulness to have regained it all, he did

es - not murmur.

--- He judged he had come out of ‘the growth
~ Some ways below the bridge, and with this

that the railroad folks

soon gone.
| when Buckley wanted me to come up here.

 

- Footsteps were

hope in his heart, he kept on as fast as he
could in his condition.

He was thankful to find that he continued
to miss any indications of the train-wreckers,
but he felt that he could not go very far, and
ina short time he stopped to lean against a
huge bowlder by the wayside, to rest.

As he half-reclined against the rock, he was
nearly overjoyed to suddenly catch the gleam
of a light in the distance.

He was not far from a human habitation,

| and the thought lending him renewed strength,

he pushed on with more vigor than before.

After going a shorter distance than he had
dared to hope, he found himself at the edge of
the tract of woodland, and upon the side of a
valley nestling inamong the mountains, while
the light he had been following was close at
hand.

Knowing he could not go much farther, he

‘resolved to call at the house, and if the person

he wished to, reach lived too far away, he
would ask these people to keep him all night.

Buvyed up with this thought, he soon gained
the dwelling, which he could see even in the
darkness was a poor abode, and knocked
timidly at the dilapidated door that threat-

tle blows.

““Who’s there?”
within. !

“Some one who seeks shelter from the storm.
Oh, Aunt Hastings! is that you?’ asked Little
Hickory, as he imagined he recognized the
voice as that of the person he had come to
see. ‘‘lam Andrew Caswell, who has come a
long way to see you.”’

There was no reply in words to this, but
hurried movements were heard, and in a brief
time a woman appeared in the door-way, hold-
ing in one hand.a candle, which she thrust
closely into our hero’s face as she gazed in-
tently upon him.

She was a person past fifty, and poorly
clad, but her pinched face hada kindly ex-
pression, gnd fhere was a certain refinement
about her"manners that told she had seen bet-
ter days.

‘‘My gracious! my gracious! Andy! Andy!
my Andy!’ she cried, letting fall the candle
from her grasp, in her excitement.

Throwing her arms. wildly about his
drenched figure, she wept and laughed «by
turns.

“T can’t realize it is Andy! They said you

were dead. But forgive an old woman’s
weakness, and come in. Why, you are wet
to the skin, and it is raining hard. Come in,
my dear boy! come in, Mind, not stumble
over the poor old floor. I will havea light in
amoment. Where have you been all these
years? And why have I not seen you before?
How Idorun on! Ibelieve I have lost my
reason. Oh, do not tell rhe that this is ondy a
dream, though the Boot Lord knows that I
have dreamed of you many times.”
_ Talking in this random way, she relighted
the candleywien Little Wickory saw that the
house within showed even more indications of
poverty than it had frona the exterior. There
were only a few pieces 4f furniture, and these
of the poorest sort, though there was anair of
cleanliness and comfort about it all.

“Why, how you have grown, my boy!
though I should have known you, you look go
much like your father, / First, you must get
those wet clothes off of you, and then you
must tell me all about yourself. Jam anx-
ious to know why I have not seen you before,
and how it has fared with you since your poor
father’s death.’’ a

Mrs. Hastings quickly brought & suit of
clothes for Little Hickory to put on, which, if
they were several sizes too large for him, were
dry and comfortable.

“They aresome of Buckley’s,’’ she said, ‘‘I
do not believe he will care if you put them
on while Ican dry yours. He is away to-
night—in fact, he is away nearly all the time.
He has been a sore trial to me, but no one
knows what. I have suffered for hifh, Iam
afraid he has fallen into bad company. But
tell me about yourself.”

ealleda woman’s voice from

”

| ‘There is not much to tell, Aunt Hastings.

You know how I went to live with Uncle
Markham after father died. Well, I have
stayed with him until a short time ago, when
he drove me out of his house and home. He
never seemed to like to have me with him,
and Iwas glad to go. Ihad not forgotten
romised me a job, as
soon as I was big enough to do anything, and
so I have come to begin work.”

‘What! at your age? Itis a shamefor you
to be kicked around so, and your father such
a kind, noble man. I have never forgotten
how he befriended my husband, and stood by
him, when everybody else was against him.

It was through his influence that Nathan re-

formed, and if he had only lived, it would
have been so different.”?
‘‘How long has it been that you have lived

here?’ asked Little Hickory.

*“Four years, Andy. You see, after my
husband’s death, and he only lived a year
after your father was killed, I had to fall back
on the scanty hoard I had saved up, and it was
Then I had to sell my house,

This place only cost me three hundred dollars,
but it has made a home for us, and with what
I could do with my poor hands we have man-
aged to live, though I am obliged to confess
that we must lose it soon. You see, Buckley
does not like to work as well as some, and of
late he has begun to drink so—hush! he is
coming now!’

 

heard without the door, and

NEWS.

the next moment it was flung open, when a
man about twenty-five years old, full bearded,
and stalwart of figure, staggered into the
room. .

Little Hickory sprang to his feet with
amazement, as he recognized the new-comer
as the train-wrecker called ‘‘Buck.”’

CHAPTER V.
_A PERILOUS PREDICAMENT.
S- TONS : sty 1a ..
fe 5) UCK HASTINGS paused, with a
8 startled look upon his beetle-browed
} bo) features, at sight of-our hero, and lean-

“7s ing against the wall, for he was too
much under the influence of liquor to stand
upright, he muttered:

‘‘How came you here, younker?”’

‘It is Andy Caswell—Jack’s boy,” Mrs.
Hastings hastened to say. ‘I know you will
be glad to see him, Buckley.”’

‘Tt ain’t so sure on’t!’? muttered the man,
as he glowered upon Little Hickory. “I
reckon if he keeps a still tongue there won’t
be any mischief done.”’

Little Hickory did not fail to catch the
meaning of this speech, and he deemed it
wisest not to say anything to Mrs. Hastings
of his recent meeting with her son. In fact,
he had so far carefully avoided any mention
of his adventures that night untila more suit-
able occasion.

I might as well say here, that the woman
was not.a relative of ourhero, notwithstand-
ing the fact that he called her aunt. ‘‘Aunt
Hastings’ was a term generally applied to
her without conveying any lack of respect.
She had been and was a hard-working, kind-
hearted woman, who it seemed had had more
than her share of troubles. First, a shiftless,
drinking husband had blasted her life, and he
had scarcely reformed from his habits, through
the influences.of Little Hickory’s father, when
he died, leaving a son to add to the mother’s
misery. The last, as can well be seen, was a
source of even greater anxiety than his father
had been.

The appearance of Buck Hastings checked
the flow of conversation immediately, and
nothing that his mother could say succeeded
in reviving its interest.

She soon began to prepare Little Hickory a
plain meal, the best she had, and while she.
was busy about her task, Buck improved the
opportunity to say to our hero: ;

‘““Younker, have you said anything to her
about up there?” jerking his thumb. over his
shoulder in the direction as he spoke.

Little Hickory shook his head.

“Lucky for you you haven’t. And right
here I want to know if you, intend to, I'll
tell you, it isn’t for your interest to do so, I
ain’t all bad yet, and you know that I have
befriended you to-night. Tf it hadn’t been for
my knife, which cut your bonds on Wild Red
bridge, you wouldn’t been here now. But T
don’t claim nothing for that.- It’lldo no good
for her to know. Do-you understand?’ ~~

Little Hickory nodded this time, wondering
if he were doing right in thiscompromise with |
the other.

“Ts it mum, then?’

“Until I can have a talk with you,” replied
Little Hickory, after a brief pause, at the
return of Mrs. Hastings to the room cut off
further conversation.

In fact, Buck Hastings left the room imme-
diately after, and he did not'see him again.

“T am sorry Buckley has got to drinking
so,” said Mrs. Hastings, as. her son left the
apartment, ‘‘and I fear he will go the way of
bis father, with no one to lift him ap from the
depths. What a fearful evil intemperance is.
But I am unmindful.of your wants. Please
sit by and eat what ae can of such asI have.

‘Dearie me! your hands are bleeding. You
have been through some fearful suffering.
Why have you not told me, so I could have
cared for you? You know I am a wonderful
healer with herbs.”

Mrs. Hastings persisted in applying some
salve she had to Little Hickory’s burns and
bruises, and while she did so, he told her of
his encounter with the train-wreckers, omit-
ting the fact that Buck had been one of them.
She heard the account with the utmost amaze-
ment, breaking in upon him with many ex-
clamations of Racor wonder,

So they, who seemed so much like mother
and son, talked on far into the night, Little
Hickory hearing much that pained him, and
among the rest, the fact that Mrs. Hastings
was expecting to lose her home in a few days,
for a debt she had been forced to incur.

‘Tt is a poor old house, but it is all I have,”
she said, with the tears ‘in her eyes. ‘‘I have
worked hard at whatever I could get to do,
but the pay is so small, and the cost of living
so great, even in my simple way, that I have
not been able to lift the burden, which has
been growing heavier year by year, until at
last I must see it crush the last spark of hope
I have cherished all these , ears. If Buckley |
had done dif—-— but, oh, dear! I must not
complain, And least of all to-night, when I
ought to be happy with you here.’ pa

ittle Hickory, in the anxious scenes |
through which he had passed, had for the time
forgotten the reward given him by the grate-
ful passengers of the train he had saved, but |
now he thought of it, while a gladness came
into his heart which he had not known before.

“How much do you need, auntie?”

“Tt amounts to nearly two bundred dollars
in all; butif ada head ed, Mr. Osbon would

_ | ang:
en

 

wait awhile for the rest.” Ys
“You forget that I told you I got a reward |

for the

for warning the train, auntie. I did not tell
you how much, but it was two hundred dol
lars, just enough to pay your mortgage, and
you shall have it. ou ought to be happy,
auntie, aren’t you?’

“T don’t know what to say, Andy.
mustn't take your money. ;
have.”

“It-is all I have, but you néed it more
than I.”

Little Hickory was aroused from a sound
sleep in the morning, by a loud thumping at
the door, and hastily dressing himself, he
found that he had slept later than he had in-
tended. He did not stop to think‘of this, how-
ever, for a loud, angry voice arrested his at-
tention, and a minute after he heard Mrs.
Hastings say, in a pitiful tone:

“T cannot pay you. You must take my
home, Mr. Osbon.’’

Realizing at once it was the man who hel
the mortgage, Little Hickory rushed into thé,
room, crying:

“Stop, sir! you shall not drive her out of
her home. How much is your claim?’

‘As good as two hundred dollars,” replied
the surprised Mr, Osbon, ‘But what is that
to you?”’

“T have got the money to pay you; that is
all. Sign your papers, while I count out the
amount.”’

Mr. Osbon was amazed, while Mrs. Hastings
protested, but Little Hickory was deaf alike
to the astonishment of one and the protesta-
tions of the other, so that fifteen minutes later
the little home was free from debt, and our
hero had just one dollar and ten cents left in
his pocket. 5 Bs

‘Don’t feel that you ought not-to have taken
it, auntie. It was agift to me, atid you surely
should have n@ more hesitation in accepting
than I did. 4 have noteforgotten your kind-
ness to me when I was a little child, and my
t

?

i But 1
It may be all you

own mother d bi | Speak her
name, you are all the mo ve kt
Let me call you such, and let
with you,/and I ask no greats

“Tt is 1 who. am receiving
not you,” she replied, with ti
but they were tears of happines

It seemed rather sinzular to Li
that he should see nothing of Buc AS
but such was the case, . a

He reached Moshainon a little before noon
to find that the story of his heroic act at Wild
Red crossing, and the attempted wreck of the
train, was upon evéry tongue.

“So you played the part of a hero, or tried
to, after you left here;’’ said Mr. Linton, and
Little Hickory felt that-there was a_sneer in
the yard-master’s tone. “Of courseeou ex-
pect your reward, and I have goi-@yoo-for
you. Perhaps it isn’t one which would, suit
such a dainty fellow as you, but it’s the bes
open-now,. “As soon as I can, I will promote
VOR ; ee
Phere was an irovy in his speech which Lit-
tle SaprOry did not like, though he said:
ing as he followed the masterto Abe |
“ot the yard, FC ai,

‘Hilloa, Brinton !’’ he called out\to the boss
of gang on a gravel train, “here’s»s new hand
for you. He’s small, but gritty. Guess you
can work him in somewheére.”? «|

‘Tf he’s as tall as the shovel, Vl risk him.’’

And this was the situation “Little Hickory
received, after all of his severe trials. His
first thought was to rebel, but without a word ~
he took the shovel handed him, and sprang
aboard the train, which was about to leave
the yard to go out on Bitter Root Branch, to
fill up.a slough which had caved in the day
before.

This place, which had formerly been a small.
pond, had troubled the roadmen for sorge tine, —
and finding that a few loads of gravel would

not suffice to make it firm, a side-track had _ ;

been put in, running back to a gravel-pit.
Little Hickory’s first. day’s work was at this —

place, and he worked steadily at his task until
toward night the boss told. him to go}down on
the train to help level off the grawel on t

_ Where the side-track made a junction with
the main line there was a sharp descent,
which, taken with the natural bend in the
course, made it difficult passing the spot;
though it had been done successfully until this

trip.

There were eight car's on the train, and Lit-
tle Hickory, with one of the shovelers, was
standing on the third car near the rear end,
when the train made the curve. The sudden
iunpetus given the car's at this juncture, caused
the workman to reel forward, and seeing he
was going to fall under the wheels, Little
Hickory caught him by the arm. But in his.
attempt to save the other he lost, his balance,
when both shot head foremost from the car!

The engineer had been a witness to the scene,
and he instantly reversed the lever, and shut
off the steam, hoping to save them from being
run over. ; Ors

- The engine was behind the cars, backing
them down, and the sudden strain upon the
coupling caused it to break with a loud snap, ,_
when the loosened train shot down the track
at a furious speed! b :

CHAPTER VI.
A THRILLING FATE.

fv RIES of terror came from the witnesses
= of this runaway, and the conductor,
d\/ seeing the train was not likely to stop
» before reaching the sink-hole, shouted
men to leap for their lives.

 
The men leaped to the ground, and as it was
done before the cars had gained very much
headway, they all escaped with na serious in-
juries, while the train thundered down the
track, the cars plunging into the hole half out
of sight.

GrooOpD

was no pleasant duty, and he was often kept |

at his work until long past midnight, for no

matter how late the iron horse comes in, as |

soon as the water is out of the boiler, the
washer must go over his grimy parts, until
they are scrubbed, and wiped, and polished fit

Meanwhile, what had become of Little Hick- | for another trip.

ory and his companion?

Seeing that they must fall; our hero snatched |

the other away from the end of the car, and
holding upon him, jumped as far out over the
side of the car as he could,

- Fortunately both struck in a pile of dirt, |

and neither of them received more than a
shaking up.

Altogether, it seemed providential that the
accident had not proved more serious, and the
conductor was congratulating his men upon

their escape, when a new-comer appeared upon

the scene, putting an entirely different phase |

upon the affair.
He was the superintendent, and claimed to

have witnessed the scene of the disaster from |

the outset.

‘‘Where is the seamp who pushed the fellow

off that car, and was thus the cause of the mis-
hap?’ he demanded, sharply.

“Tf you mean the boy, Mr. Cutler, he is just
below here, but Ido not think he was in any
way to blame for the accident.’’

 

‘*Who knows best, youor I?’ demanded the

official.
talk with him.”’

“Send him up this way, and. I will |

‘““He seems like a good boy, though I do not |

see why Brinton should put him in the gravel-
pit. He is too young for that.”

‘‘He won’t have any more of it to do, never
mind, Mr. Holton. But how long have I got
to wait for him?”’

Little Hickory, who had heard all this, now
came swiftly forward.

“Tf it is me you wish to see, here I am, sir,’’

he said, with something of defiancein the tone | 3
| work upon the engine, and was busily at the
““You young reprobate, report to Mr. Lin- |

of his voice.

ton at once. Herecommended you to me, and

perhaps he has got something for you to do.

You’ ve estroyed more here than you could
gene

_impudence with personal vio-

; Repo ¢ to Mr,

Linton without further

ment, Li
, yard, reaching the place just as the master

was leaving the station.
ws the trouble, young man?’ asked

LAnton, anticipating that something un-

y ee had taken place.

In as few words as possible, Little Hickory
told of the accident on*the gravel train.

“t suppose Dimight have expected as, much.
Well, you Gan go to work to-morrow in the
engine sheds as Washer.
got to tend to your business there, or you'll

get the grand bounce at once, without any }

showing elsewhere. I suppose I might as well
tell you that it isn’t every one who would give
you a second trial. Will you~be on hand in
the morning?” ‘
EV OB. Sin 3

ae Little Hickory, never
feeling so friend

ess as at that time.

‘am willing to leave it to the men if——” |

5 - that Tam a liar, do you?” cried the |

jal, suddenly starting toward our hero. |

). sight before I am tempted to |
‘ae |

Mind you, you have |

:

 

{

|

j

|

|

|
ae

he 4 } | your settlement.
‘knowing what to think of this treat- |
tile Hickory started back toward the |

 

Chis process, like the cleaning down of a
horse, is. called ‘‘grooming,’’ and when the
‘‘9ro0m”’ gets through with his work, he is so

covered with dirt and grease that his best |

friend would not know him.

Oftentimes during the day Little Hickory
was not kept busy in the sheds, and though he
knew he would have to make up for these re-
spites during the coming night, he was glad to
make himself useful about the yard, and
quick to understand, the yardsmen did not
hesitate to let him do all that he could.

The switchman, Tim Houghton, soon con-
ceived a warm attachment for him, and was
glad to have the boy with him, when he could
do so without neglecting his duties.

Thus several weeks passed without anything
worth mentioning, when one day about noon,
an engine was run into the shed to be groomed
as soon as possible.

Little Hickory’s assistant at the time was a

great, overgrown youth of twenty, who had |
» = 5 . * S . . 1
always been famous for shirking his duties, |

and at that time he was fast asleep in the cor-
ner on a pile of waste.

‘Wake up, Burd!’ said Little Hickory,
shaking the sleeper vigorously. ‘‘Here’s a
new steed for us to rub down, and he is worse
daubed with mud than the horse that carried
the news to Ghent.”’ .

“T don’t keer if there’stwenty, ’m going to
have my snooze out,” and with these words

Burd Grass turned over and resumed his snor-

ing.
Feeling that he had done his part toward
arousing his helper, Little Hickory began

grooming when the shed foreman appeared
upon the scene. Discovering the sleeping
Burd, he exclaimed, roughly:

“Ts that what that lazy lubber.does?”’

Then, stepping briskly to the corner, he |

seized upon Burd’s arm with a grip which
brought that enterprising youth to his feet
with a howl of pain.

“To work there, you lazy-bones!’’ ordered
the foreman, sharply; ‘‘and when your day’s
work is done, come round to the office and get
We want workers here, not
sleepers. ”’

Half frightened out of his wits, Burd began
work with a will, without daring to offera
reply. But as soon as the foreman was out of
hearing, he turned upon Little Hickory with
the aggrieved demand:

“Why didn’t yer tell a feller the boss was
round?’ .

*T woke
was Work
quietly.

‘‘Mebbe yer-did and mebbe yer didn’t,’’ to”

which graceless speech our hero made no re-

aby.

Xe I do lose my place on count of yer
meanness, Hick; I’ wallop yer good. I’vea
mind to trounce you as ’tis. Is’pose yer air
larfin’ to yerself *bout it. Di bet yer did it
on a a

‘Don’t you lay a hand on me, Burd Grass,”’

He had been used to roughing it-all his} as the other advanced in a threatening man-

young life, and his friends had never_seemed | ner.

over many, but ever since coming to Moshan- } larger than I.”

non his fate had been unusually hard. How-
ever, he was not one to bewail his for-
tune, and he turned away from the station
-whistling ‘“‘Yankee Doodle”? as loud as he
could,

He had noticed a tall, gentlemanly looking
stranger walking back and forth on the plat-
form, without giving him a second glance,
but as he descended the steps to the yard, the
man said to him:

‘Pardon me, but I overheard something in
regard to that accident on the gravel train. I
wish you would tell me all about it.”

Surprised at the question, Little Hickory
gave a succinct account of the affair, when
the gentleman said:

“T thank you. Now your name, please.”’

Our hero gave his name, adding that his
father had been Jack Caswell, an engineer.

‘““T suppose you are working for that end,
my little man. I wish you suecess, and I do
not doubt but you will get there, for youseem
to be made of the right stuff. But it’s a long,
up-hill road you have got to travel, and you
will be disheartened many times. It may be
so I can help you some time.’’

The whistle of an approaching- train at that
moment called the man away, and to Little
Hickory’s regret, he did not even learn his
name.

“7 will remember his countenance,’’ be said,

mentally. ‘‘I am sure I should know him if I
should see himagain.” =

Little Hickory’s next movement was to find
a boarding place, and after nearly an hour’s
calling from house to house, he found a.pri-
vate fatally, which agreed to board him at
reasonable rates. He felt that he should like
the family very much, for the woman seemed
extremely pleasant, and there were three chil-
dren who would be company for him when
not at work. The man, whose name was
Winhaven, was a section hand on the rail-
road.

Feeling in better spirits than before, he rose

.

 

‘‘Ain’t!”’ cried the belligerent bully. “I'll
find out in a jiffy,’’ and before Little Hickory,
who was scrubbing away under the engine,
could defend himself, Burd dealt him a smart
blow across the face, his greasy hand leaving
its imprint on his victim’s cheek.

Little Hickory was upon his feet in an in-
stant, but as Burd Grass sprang backward out
of his reach, startling cries reached his ears,
causing him to glance out of the shed, when
he beheld a sight which sent a thrill of horror
to his heart.

A girl of perhaps twelve years of age was
crossing the tracks, while a train was rushing
toward her at lightning-like speed. She had
just stepped from a parallel track, to aveid an
engine coming from the other way, and stood
watching it unconscious of the awful danger
in the pathway of which she stood.

The yardmen were spell-bound, the engineer
had whistled the alarm, but she seemed hope-
lessly lost. :

Little Hickory took in all this at a glance,
and then, dashing Burd Grass headlong to the
yround, in kis wild rush, he bounded across
the rails toward the side of the girl. Then,
lifting her in his arms, he attempted to spring
over the track out of the reach of the iron
monster sweeping down upon them.

* To his horror he suddenly found himself held
fast in the frog of the rail!

He wrenched himself to get free in vain,
and with the warning whistle of the engine
ringing in his ears, he fell forward, thus plac-
ing the girl beyond harm’s way, while he gave
himself up as lost.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

PAIYS ANSWER.
A conceited coxcomb, with a very patroniz-

ing air, called out to an Irish laborer:
‘Here, you bog-trotter, come and tell me

the next morning refreshed by a good eC the greatest falsehood you can, and I will trea
a

rest, to report for duty at the engines
with his old vivacity of manner.

eds, tyou to a glass of whisky.”’ f

“By my word,” said Pat, ‘and yer honor’s

It goes without my saying it, that his task a gentleman.”

no

you up and told you that there |

for. us,” replied Little Hickory, ically,

“T am not afraid of you if you are}

NEws.

 

[This Story will not be Published in Book-Form,|

LEFT IN CHICAGO;

OR,

By ENRIQUE H. LEWIS.

Author
Sam’s Jack Tas,” ete.

.

Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]}

CHAPTER. XXXTV.
JACK MEETS WITH SOME PECULIAR EX-
PERIENCES,

< =. HE Chicago River is not a very in-
W.> viting stream to bathe in, and if
h\ Jack had had his choice, he would
“> have selected almost any other
place in preference.

But he certainly did not mean to miss
ithe deck of the tug, and it would have
been hard to find a more disgusted boy
than he when he finally came to the sur-
| face.

It was several seconds before the
| detectives and Harry became aware of the
jaccident, and when they did notice it,
| the tug had carried them a hundred yards
| from the bridge.
| However, Jack was in very little dan-
| ger. Not ten feet from him was the cen-
|

 

ter pier, and it only reauired a few
| strokes to put him alongside.

| From there he climbed upa ladder low-
lered by the bridge-tender, who had seen
ithe catastrophe, and within a few
| moments of the time he had taken the
| drop,.Jack was back on the foot- walk.

“What in the duse does all this mean?”
demanded the official, staring at the lad
lin astonishment, not unmixed with sus-
picion.

Jack explained to his satisfaction, and
then asked permission to dry his clothing
in the erigine-room supplying the motive-
power for swinging the bridge.

The request was readily granted, and
during the process Jack satisfied his com-
panion’s lively curiosity by giving a few
details of the chase.

After he had concluded, the bridge-ten-
der said, with a twinkle in his eyes:

“T suppose ye’d like to see the rest of
the fun, eh?”

“That 1 would,”

Walking to the window of the little

strueture, the
down the river, and then said:

replied Jack, emphat-

in the channel now, but you might catch
up with them before they reach the mouth
by boarding one of the early cable cars
several blocks from here.”

“Tt’s worth trying, anywag,”  ex-
claimed Jack, jumping to his feét."“I am
much obliged to you for your kindness.”

“Don’t you mention it, young fellow,”
expostulated his kind-hearted companion,
following him to the door. “ Ye’d better
go as far as the last stretch of channel
and watch for her.”

Jack waved his hand in reply, and after
descending to the bridye, started across
the city to where he could get a car,

After walking seven or eight blocks he
heard.a familiar gong, and reached the
next corner just in time to catch the rear
platform of a cable car.

“You’re in luck, young feller,” said the
conductor, extending his hand for the
fare, “as the next one won't come along
here for a half-hour, What’s the matter?”

The question was called forth by seeing
his passenger vainly searching in pocket
after pocket for the necessary five cents.

Jack felt very much embarrassed.

He had totally forgotten the collapsed
state of his purse until now, and nota
copper could he find with which to settle
the fare.

“T_T—am afraid I haven’t a cent with
me,” he stammered.

“Well, what in blazes did you get
aboard. for?” replied the conductor,
gruffy. “This line don’t carry passen-
gers for nothing.”

Reaching up he pulled the bell-cord,
and motioned Jack to get off.

It was an unfortunate predicament,

“T would very much like to ride down
town,” he said; appealingly. “I must be
at the mouth of the river as soon as——”

“Get off with you,” interrupted the
official, harshly. “ You can’t ride on this
car without paying your fare,”

Seeing that it was useless

>

to argue the
pavement, :
“Well,
from the river—down over his eyes, he
strode along the street at a stiff pace. |
It was very near daybreak. The grayish
light of early dawn was already apparent,
and with it came a cold breeze that
pierced the lad’s clothes like a knife,

 

°

‘PLUCKY BOYS FROM THE MIDWAY. |

| secured the prisoners.
of “The King of the Istund,’ “ Unele |

(“LEFT IN CHICAGO” was commenced in No. 197, |

two }

man glanced carefully |

“They are out 0’ sight around the bend | p

question, Jack descended and gained the

it can’t be helped,” he said. |
Then pulling biscap—which he had.fished |

 

pilot-house by a sharp cry.

This intensely-disagreeable condition of

| affairs was lessened somewhat by rapid

walking, and by the time Jack had coy-
ered several blocks, he was more com fort-

lable.

It suddenly struck him that possibly
the tug would not reach the mouth of the
river before the detectives and Harry

Filled with the new idea, Jack turned
the next corner, and walked over to the
river, which he Lad been skirting.

Seeing a bridge-tender standing outside

>

| of his house, Jack asked if he had seeen
j; anything of a tug bearing the name of

:

“Rolling Duffer.”

“Did I see .her, d’ye ask?” replied the
mau, “why of course, an’ there seems to
be something the matter with her, my
boy. She passed here a moment ago,
steering wild, and there seemed to be a
kind of scrap on board. I heard some fel-
lers a-cursing, and——”

He stopped short in his garrulous ex-
planation, and gazed after.the retreating
form of his questioner in surprise.

Jack had heard enough.

The tug had just passed; and there was
fighting on board,

“That means trouble for Harry and the
rest,” he muttered. “Oh, why did I fall
into the river, confound it? Maybe one of
them was injured on striking the deck,
and the others found their hands full.”

Jack found that he would be conimelled
to take a parallel street to reach the next
bridge, so he scurried away, and on turn-
ing the first corner, ran plump into the
arins of a roughly-dressed man.

“Where away, my hearty?” demanded
the stranger, grasping him by the collar,

“Lam going down this street, and I am
in a hurry,” promptly replied Jack, try-
ing to free himself. —

“Not so fast; easy there. You've ‘got
to give an account of yourself first. This
here rushin’ around at this hour of the
morning looks suspicious.”

“Let me go, will you?” demanded Jack, -
hotly. “I have important business to at-
tend ‘to. And, futhermore, what right
have you to stop me?”

“T'll_ show you"what right I haye, my
bantam,” roughly replied the man, Then
leering significantly at Jack, he asked:

“Got a quarter on ye?
dime?”

“No; I haven’t a cent, and I wouldn’t
give it te you if I had?’
sponded the lad. ;

He now saw that he had fallen into the
hands of a foot-pad, and -one not above
robbing even as poorly dressed a youth as
himself, : :

It struck him as rather comical] that he
should be “held up” and asked for money,”
when not ten minutes previous he had
been put off a car for lack of a five-cent
iece. =
Still the situation was too
admit of laughter.

_ A hasty glance up and down the street
showed that it was deserted as far as he
could see, Aas

The would-be highwayman noticed the
look and said, impatiently:

“Come, now, pony over a couple of
cents, and I'll let ye go on yer important
business,” :

“But I tell you I haven’t any money,”
persisted Jack, -

“I don’t believe yer,” exclaimed the
other, “an’ I’m going to search yer to
find out. P’raps you have something
that'll sell for a few scads.”

Jack suddenly thought of the revolver,
which was still in his pocket.

“Now that you mention the fact, I be-
lieve I have a little article that would

Serious to

probably suit you,” he said; then quickly —

drawing the weapon, he presented it at
the foot-pad’s head, and exclaimed:

“Now get out of here, you scoundrel.
Quick, or I’1——*

He was suddenly interrupted by feeling
a heavy hand on his shoulder, and on
wheeling around, he saw a_ blue-coated
policeman standing at his elbow!

CHAPTER XXXV.
ON THE TUG.

HILE Jack was meeting with
various disappointments in his
chase after the tug, those of his
party that had succeeded in

boarding the craft were not undergoing a
very easy experience. ; :

In the first place Jones unfortunately
sprained his ankle in making the drop
from the bridge, and that reduced the
active members of the expedition down to
two—a man and a boy. t
Then Harry was so worrted at Jack’s
mishap that he was of little use in the
preliminary round with the enemy, which
took place almost immediately. :

The tux swept out of sight of the
bridge a few hundred yards down the
river at a sharp bend, so the little party
did not know whether the one left he-
hind was rescued or no.

Harry was still grieving

when his attention was called to the

over this —

or maybe a _

spiritedly re-

 
. and ran forward.

S31e

CFO

NEWS.

 

Looking forward, they saw a man with
fiery-red hair poke his head from one of
the side windows, then immediately
withdraw it.

“That’s Duffy,” cried Picketts, “and he
has discovered our presence.”

Turning to Jones, who had sat down on
an iron bitt, utterly disabled, he hastily
bade him keep a sharp eye out aft, and
then started toward the bow with Harry.

“We are going to have a tussle, as sure
as you are born,” he said, grimly. “There
must be three or four fellows on board
besides the Turk and Paddy.”

“Where do you think they were going?”

“Probably across the lake to some town
where they could catch a train for the
East.”

“Won’t this make the tug people liable
to the law?”

“That it will,” replied Picketts, com-
pressing his lips, “and for that very rea-
son they are apt to throw us overboard.”

“Tf they get a chance,” added Harry,
fingering his revolver.

“Sh-h-h ! don’t make any noise,” warned
his eompanion, tip-toeing up to the pilot-
house door.

In passing the various entrances into
the deck-house, they had found them
fastened, with the exception of one lead-
ing to the fire-room.

The boiler-head obstructed the view
there, however, and they were unable to
tell how many men were below,

Picketts placed his head against the
wooden side of the pilot-house, and lis-
tened intently.

Harry followed his example and heard
several voices in conversation.

“Oi tell yez, Oi saw that fiend of a de-
tective out there,” came to his ears in
Duffy’s harsh tones.

“What we do? Oh! Allah il Allah!
how we get away now?” spoke up the
thin treble of the Turk.

He was undoubtedly overcome with
fear, and the two listeners could actually
hear his teeth chattering.

Then another voice joined in—one
strange to them—saying, fiercely:

“Well, if dere is any. fly-cops aboard
dis yer tug, I'll give ’em a bath; see? A
nice cold bath in de river. Come on, an’
we'll clear de decks of the mugs.”

-“Ye’d better call yer men up, captain,
as there’s a pile of them,” interrupted
g Paddy. P
“All right; I’ll do dat, but I’1l first
stop her, an’ den we’il have all hands.”

- Picketts and Harry heard a distant
jingle, and then the tug’s way was
checked,

“Now is our time,” whispered the de-

- tective; “it won't do to wait until they

- get their forces together. When I open
the door you aim your revolver at Ali,
and I’ll attend to the others, Are you
ready?” 3

“Wy ”

SAG right; here goes.”
As he uttered the last word, Picketts | P
threw back the door, and poiuting his

weapon into the pilot-house, said,
- sternly: aoe
“Surrender, all of you!”

At the command, the Turk, who was

~ erouched upon a bench, dropped to the

_ foor and tried to crawl from sight.
The man at the wheel, a stocky, well-
-built young man, removed his. hands
from the spokes, and started toward the
detective, but Picketts soon brought him
to a halt by covering him with his re-
volver.

As for Paddy Duffy, he seemed to lose
all heart, and stolidly elevated his arms
as a token of surrender.

So far everything was working splen-
-didly for the captors, but suddenly an in-
terruption unlooked for occurred.
' Two deck-hands, who had been asleep
in the after room of the tug, were awak-
ened by the loud talking, and appeared
ow the scene to ascertain the cause of the
disturbance. :

One glance forward revealed the condi-
tion of affairs, and they darted back into
_ the room for weapons,

Detective Jonessaw the move, and tried
“to arise, but his ankle yielded again, and

he fell back once more, utterly helpless.
te He still. had his revolver, however, but
- just as he was Ope: to extricate it the
tivo men emerged from the deck-house,

- Jones shouted at the top of his voice,

_ hoping to alarm Picketts and#Harry, but |

- just as they turned in obedience to his
all, they found themselves confronted by
he new enemy. 7
Luckily the-detective was a man of
uick action, and accustomed to just such

mergencies.

5 ee fa not take him long to see.that he
would have his hands full in controlling
_ the situation now,

One of the deck-hands held an old army
musket, which he had presented to Pick-

ts’ head before the latter discovered |

heir presence, while the other was armed
with a butcher-knife having a blade at
ta foot pay: Pee nt ates eee

__ Notwithstanding this war-like array,
Picketts whipped his pistol around in

their direction and pulled the trigger,

 

There was no report. It failed to dis-
charge,

Before he could repeat the attempt, he
was knocked down by a blow from the
barrel of the musket.

As it happened, the weapon was not
loaded, but in the hands of an active

man, and at such close quarters, it was

still formidable.

Harry now found hi in a quan-
dary. :

He had three men in the pilot-house to
guard, and two on the outside.

If he removed the pistol from Paddy’s
direction, that astute Irishman would in-
stantly take advantage of the opportun-
ity. ‘

Then again, if he did not do something
to intimidate the new enetny, he would
undoubtedly share the detective’s fate.

All this conjecturing occupied but very
few seconds.

A man’s thoughts in moments of peril
run in swift channels.

Harry was now desperate, and he re-
sorted to desperate means.

He was loath to shoot a fellow human,
but in this case sentiment would be mis-
placed, so he took rapid aim at the deck-
hand who had felled Picketts, and brought
him down,

Then standing over the detective’s pros-
trate body, he prepared to defend him to
the last.

Inside the pilot-house Duffy and the
skipper had hastily devised a scheme to
capture the brave lad.

When Harry fired the shot at Picketts’
assailant, the skipper seized the appor-
tunity, and sprang through the oye
door. Then picking up a huge billet of
wood, he cautiously advanced behind
Harry's back.

Totally unaware of the new danger, the
Jad stood awaiting an attack from another
quarter. The captain crept nearer and
nearer, and finally raised the club to
strike a fatal blow, when there suddenly
occurred a startling and most unexpected
interruption. ,

(10 BE CONTINUED.)

ONLY A DOG.

eS Ms

H. GRAFFAM.

>

¥A\ MINER’S home in the far West,
years ago.
Inside the cabin all was as snug
S as the homely means at hand could
make it. A huge fire of oak oc¢upied one
end of the only room the cabin contained,
which served as parlor, kitchen, dining-
room, and bedroom combined. Over the
fire was suspended, on an iron crane, a
rusty pot, in which something was boil-
ing, sending forth the rich aroma of
onions, pepper, bacon, and other com-
ounds, ;
The blaze lighted up the wholes room,
running into every nook and cranny, and
dancing over the rough logs in fantastic
shapes. The miner’s fire was his one
cheap luxury “in the days of ’49,” when
wood was to be had tor the hewing, and
he a be warm if he never “struck it
rich,”

A young manintherough garb of a
miner knelt before the hearth, holding a
rasher of bacon over the few coals he had
raked out on the stones, An eager and
interested spectator of these preparations
for supper was the faithful companion of
all his wanderings, his dog Ben.

Harry Brandt had been in the mines of
Nevada County for two years, yet had not
found the fortune he had crossed the seas
toseek. With the exception of a few
spurts, he had been one of the oh more
unfortunates. Still he lingered in the
hope of “striking it rich” some day.

To-night was the eve of St. Valentine,
and oun hero was_a bit homesick, to dis-
sipate which weakness he talked to the
dog; and he listened as though he under-
stood every word he uttered—and 1 have
no doubt that he did.

“Sorry a valentine we'll get, old man.
The saint has forsaken this end of crea-
tion.” The dog looked knowing, and gave
his tail a gentle tap on the floor. “Smells
good, doesn’t it, old boy?” removing the
lid of the swinging pot with a long-
handled iron spoon...

After satisfying himself that the stew
was sufficiently cooked, he ladled out a
generous portion of it into a tin dish, and
set it out on the snow to cool for Ben,
who lay down at a little distance and
watched it patiently. His own meal was
then dished up and set upon one end of
the pine table, sans tablecloth, and our
hero sat down on a bench before it and
fell to, , :

Before, however, sitting down to his
own meal, he went eut and brought in
Ben’s dinner from the snow, and placed
it on the floor be him. These two had
not eaten a meal gl since they met,
the first day Bran
fornia, and dinner would not seem like
dinner to either one without the presence
of the other. : ;

BY W.

-

Lrhalp.
way

t set foot in Cali-|
‘mines of California in those days did not

 

“Tf ever I do strike it rich, old man,
it'll mean a big blow-out for your royal
highness. Sabe?”

The dog wagged his tail and winked
one eye knowingly.

soiled paper package, and carefully un-
of Ben a small lump of gold.

said; then, with sudden facetiousness,
he held it to the dog’s nose, saying:

“Seek him !”

The setter was alert in an instant, and,
smelling all over. the small specimen
carefully and understandingly, rushed
out of the cabin, and, deaf to all whistling
and commands of his master, disap-
peared in the darkness.

“Well, I’ll be switched !” ejaculated the
young fellow, coming back after a fruit-
less search in the vicinity of the cabin,
“who would have thought the old dog
would have taken a fellow at his word in
that manner?”

After the moon rose, lighting the moun-
tain side for a long distance, he went to
the door more than once to look out, but
neither hide nor hair of the dog could be
seen, and he returned to the fire, more
disconsolate and miserable than ever.

Brandt still sat by the fire. He had no
heart to go to bed and Jeave Ben outside.
But, after many fruitless journeys to the
door and back again, he threw himself on
the bed, all dressed as he was, and fell
asleep. The sun streaming across bis
face the next morning awoke him, and
he sprang up with a vague bope at his
heart. But Ben was not there. He
whistled loud and long, but no Ben re-
sponded to the familiar call, and he
shouldered his pick and shovel for his
daily tramp up the trail to his “lead”
with a heavy hone No faithful friend
trotted before him this morning, looking
back, ever and anon, for a word of kind-
ness from his master,

It was a long day, and resulted, as all
the previous days had resulted—in fail-
ure. He could not eat his supper, but sat
by the fire moody and heartsick. In this
frame of mind he fell, first into waking,
then to sleep and actual dreams.

He thought the latch was lifted, and
the dark, athletic form of an Indian came
noiselessly to the fire and stood looking
down at him. -He was wrapped in the
folds of a long gray blanket, the corner
of which he had drawn over his head. He
did not utter a word, but stood silently
looking down at the miner. As Brandt
looked up into the dark face, fascinated
by the fixed gaze of those penetrating
eyes, it eeomiog tO undergo a change. The
nose elongated; the long, coarse hair on
either side the head grew curling and
glossy, and assumed the shape of ears,
covered with a growth of short black
hair; and the eyes lost their fixed stare
and became almost human. He had
almost exclaimed, “It is Ben!” when his
visitor suddenly dropped on all fours and
trotted toward the door,

Impelled by what force he knew not,
Brandt arose and followed after. His
strange guide, who now appeared to be a
strange blend of dog and Indian, bounded
forward straight _up the mountain path,
and. it seemed to Brandt that he followed
after with incredible speed.

The direction they took was over the
same trail he had so often trod in the
past two years; but the rapid figure
ahead did not halt at the “shaft,” but
kept straight on. Some twenty yards
farther he turned and doubled on his
track. This maneuver he repeated several
times, then went ahead again, Brandt
following. ; .

Now the path was crooked and uneven;
now Serie up the side of the mountain,
then plunging abruptly down again, In
this Manner they followed a course that
took them through unbroken patches of
trees, and over ground quite familiar to
Brandt.

Suddenly, with the strange second sight
of dreams, he realized that the dark

atches on the snow ahead of him were
blood. ] :

A this juncture the form ahead of him
suddenly stopped short, and Brandt, who
was but a few paces behind, pulled up,
just in time to avoid stepping into a
dark, cavernous hole that yawned at his
feet, and all about the margin the snow
was splashed with red blood, while up
from the cavern at his feet issued a faint
groan, be

A cold shiver passed over his frame—
the real cold of the snow and night air,
and the feeling of returning conscious-
ness. He rubbed his eyes and looked
about him; he really stood on the moun-
tain side and not far from home. He

| could see his cabin at a little distance.

But he was on the opposite side of the
mountain from his claim, He must have
gone clear around it in his dream, But
how did he come there at dead of night,
and by what unseen hand led?

He was not a coward, A life in the

tend to lessen a man’s courage; but a
feeling not unlike the crawling of a slimy

SRT helt Seer eet

| stood still and listened,

 

snake down his spine crept over him

when he looked about and found every-
thing exactly as he had seen it in his
dream. There was the pathway by which

£ ‘ |he had come, and on that pathway were
Presently Brands took from his bosom a |

the patches of blood. At his feet yawned

€ E the dark cavern of his dream, arid again,
rolling it, revealed to the watchful eyes |
I |quering an impulse to put distance he-
“It’s all that’s left us, old man,” he |

as then, he heard the faint groan. Con-
tween that dark hole and himself, he
The groan was
repeated. No, not a groan—a whine. The
truth came to him like a flash. “It is
Ben!”

That thought dispelled all lesser
thoughts, and lying down in the snow,
he peered into the hole, calling:

“Ben, dear boy, are you there?”

A glad -whine, a soft tap of his tail
responded. - :
“Good boy! be patient; I’ll get you
out,” and he darted down the side of the
mountain, taking the shortest cut to his
cabin, regardless of the fact that. his feet
might at any moment run intosome over-

grown shaft,

It was but a simple task to gather up a
blanket from his bed, a strong rope, his
pick and shovel, and a dark lantern, and
hurry back to the spot where he had left
the dog.

Climbing down into the shaft, he found
that it was not deep, and the entrance to
a tunnel, half-way inside of which Ben
lay. A hasty examination of the dog~
showed that the wound consisted of a
pretty badly lacerated shoulder, probably
being the result of ranning against some-
thing sharp on his way to the mine. This
accounted for the blood on the snow;
and after losing considerable blood, the
dog was unable to get out of the shaft,
and in some occult manner this fact was
communicated to his master.

Brandt did not waste time upon specu-
lations as to the cause of his dog’s condi-
tion, but quiékly bound up the shoulder
in strips of rags, which he had brought
for that purpose. The dog submitted to
this operation with his usual good sense
and fortitude, but when his master at-
tempted to move him, he resisted with
all his might, :

Winding resistance in vain, he strugg] d
to his feet, and looking up into his mas-
ter’s face, with the well-understood. look
of intelligence Brandt had. so often seen
there, he pressed his nose down to the
spot upon which he had lain. y

Brandt put his lantern down close to
the ground, and examined it carefully.
In spite of his wounded shoulder, Ben ~
wriggled about in the fashion dogs have
of showing their satisfaction, A smoth-
ered ejaculation broke from the young
man. He had put his lantern close down
to a nugget of gold as large as his fist.’
Ben licked his master’s hand and
wriggled almost out of his skin in his
delight.

Brandt tied up the nugget in the corner
of the blanket, and looked about for
more, Every blow of his pick yielded a
piece of earth rich with the precious
metal, é

The young fellow, disappointed for so
long, and now seeing his best hopes ‘real-
ized, felt his brain reeling, and had to
put his head up out of the shaft for air
in order to regain his senses, which he
felt were fast deserting him. Then he
sat down on the ground, and, putting his
arms about the neck of the faithful ani-
mal, burst into tears, Ben sat upright
like a martyr, bearing the added pain
that the weight of his master’s arms in-
flicted without a murmur, -

“You’ve won your spurs to-night, old
fellow, and you shall wear them, or I’m
a duffer!” he cried, when he had recov-
ered his equilibrium, and dog and master
were on their way to the cabin,

Without a word to the other miners,
Branat worked his claim until he had
satisfied himself that it was really a
“find,” and not merely a “pocket,” as so
many leads proved to be in those days of
suddenly realized fortunes and as sudden
disappointments. Then he staked it off,
and posted the accustomed notices of
warning to trespassers. «

A visit to Nevada City was next in
order, to have his “property” duly re-
corded. Moneyed speculators in San
Francisco got wind of the mine and paid
it a visit, the result of which was the ex-
change of all his right and title for the
sum of five hundred thousand dollars,
which in those days was considered a
bigger “pile” than as-many millions
would in these days of railroads and oil

The very next ship that sailed, outward
bound, through the Golden Gate, bore as
“cabin passengers” Harry Brandt and his
dog Ben, the latter in the proud posses-
sion of a brand-new collar, the finest that
could be produced in those days by San
Francisco silversmiths, © 7

—— 0

Tue upholsterer bee lines her nest with
the leaves of flowers, always choosing
such as have very bright colors. They are
invariably cut in circles so exact that no
compass would make them more true.

|

-

 
S317

CTOOD INE Ws.

 

suspiciously, ‘‘but you may come to-morrow, ‘‘A word with you, sir,” iaterrupted Tom’s
and stay a few minutes.”’ | guardian, rather sternly.
Tom bowed his thanks, and walked away, The professor followed him to a corner of
muttering: | the library, and the two conversed earnestly
“Tf I get in the gates, I’ll bet I will see a | in a low tone for several minutes.
certain young lady.”’ “By George! he is actually going to brazen
Which goes toshow that Tom wasnotabove | it out,’? whispered Chester, indignantly.
practicing diplomacy. ‘“Let’s have him arrested.”
Joining Chester, he again Before Tom had time to reply to this in-

[THIS STORY WILLNOT BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK-FORM.}

TOM TRUXTONS SCHOOLDAYS;

FUN. AND MYSTERY AT PICKLE ACADEMY.

roposed return-

By HARVEY HICKS,
Author of “Mat Merriman A broad,” ete.

{“ToM TRUXTON’S SCHOOLDAYS” was commenced in No. 203. Back numbers can be obtained of all

°

CHAPTER XVI.

TOM’S GALLANT RESCUE.
PSHE sight of Violet’s girlish form sur-
| ~ rounded by the devouring flames
5 Ahh caused Tom’s gallant heart to almost
stop beating.

It seemed, for the moment, as if it would be
impossible to rescue her. |

Where she stood in the window, the fire was
already burning fiercely, licking up the dry
wood of the frame like tinder.

Scream after scream came from the im-
periled girl, and her cries of terror soon
aroused the other occupants of the school.

In far less time than it takes to write it, the
~ lawn in front of the buildings was crowded by
the frightened teachers and their pupils.
~ Pandemonium reigned supreme, and of the

entire assemblage, only three were cool enough
to proceed with the work of rescue,

hey were Tom, Chester, and the redoubt-
able cook—Mary Ann. ~-

The latter had appeared on the scene, clad
in an odd collection of clothing, donned while
on the run. Despite her haste, she had not
forgotten to save — best bonnet, which she
now wore in conjunction with a red flannel
skirt and a green waist. ES

On seeing ,Violet’s danger, Mary Ann first
tossed up her arms, with an ‘‘oh! wurra,
wurra!’’ that could be heard a mile, and then
darted after Tom and Chester, who had made
for the front stairs.

‘‘Come back, an’ git a ladder, b’ys,’”’ she
shouted. ‘Yez can’t climb thim shtairs, as
they’ll burn in a minute. Come back, Oi
say.’ at

Gage hesitated, and then joined the cook.

 

i
}
|
|

News Agents. }

then joined Gage, amid the shouts of the
crowd.

It was an easy task to gain the ground, and, |

after turning the unconscious pupils over to
some of their schoolmates, the two boys as-
sisted in extinguishing the conflagratien.

At last this was accomplished, but not until

the whole upper part of the dormitory lad |

been destroyed.

Hatless, and begrimed with smoke, Tom
then hunted up Violet, finding her with a
circle of friends, completely recovered from
the effects of her terrible experience.

When he appeared, she broke from the
group, and, running forward,
hands in hers.

“Oh, how ean I find words with which to
thank you for saving my life at the risk of
your own, Mr. Truxton? It was a noble act.”’

Then about fifteen other girls echoed in
chorus:

“Tt was, it was a noble act.”

* Tom’s face became red, and he glanced
feebly around, as if in search of help to free
himself from the embarrassing situation.

Hspying Chester, he made a furtive motion
with his hand, but that ingenious youth shook
his head and grinned.

‘This is the second time you haye rescued
me from certain death,’ earnestly continued
Violet, ‘‘and I would be ungrateful, indeed, if
I did not take this opportunity of thanking
you in public,”’

‘‘Please don’t say anything about it, Miss
Vaughn,”’ protested Tom, noticing, with
alarm, that the circle of young ladies was in-
creasing.

Our hero was as modest as he was brave,
and the very idea of having his virtues extolled
in this manner frightened him more than the

They hastened to an adjacent tool-house, and | deadliest peril possibly could.
secured a long extension ladder, which Ches- |

ter immediately raised to the roof of a ver-
anda in front of the dormitory. _
- In the meantime, Tom had passed on up the
stairs, despite the cook’s warning.

Truxton,” persisted Vio-
“T know that you re-

“But I must, Mr.
let, smiling pleasantly.
y

|gard the saving my life as a mere nothing,

but——”
“Not that,” interrupted Tom, gallantly.

At the first landing- he stumbled over aj ‘Don’t put it in that light, Miss Vaughn. I
| would rather save your life than—than——”’

body.

One rapid glance showed that it was the}; i.
| behind

|
|

mistress of the seminary—Mother Simper.

- She was unconscious, and part of her dress

was smoldering, where a spiteful tongue of

flame had touched it. : :
Picking her up, Tom dashed down the steps,

‘Mine, Oi suppose,’ broke in a voice just
nim.

Turning quickly, he saw Mary Amn’s gayly
decorated figure close by.

Her face. was dirty, and smudged with
smoke, but in his present state of mind none

two ata time, and handed her over té’Ches-| was more welcome.

ter, whom he met in the door-wa
‘‘We have a ladder outside,

Dut it won’t
reach high enough,” cried the latter. ‘Mary | her
8 5

Ann has—— stop! where are you going now?”’

Tom had turned, and was speeding up the |
| Ann, but yé desarve it.

stairs again!

‘‘Am going to save Violet,”’ he called back,
then disappeared in the dense cloud of smoke
filling the hall-way.

Darting out on the lawn, Chester met the
cook dragging another ladder.

“Quick! give it to me,” he shouted, then

‘snatching it from Mary Ann’s hands, he
hastily climbed the one that had been previ-
ously placed against the veranda.

As 2 did so, Gage heard a cheer from the
road.

Glancing hurriedly in that direction, he saw
a crowd of boys from Pickle Academy drag-
ging an old-fashioned fire-machine, _

Behind them came scores of men from neigh-
boring farms, carrying buckets. It was eyi-

dent the conflagration had aroused the.ad-|

jacent country.

Turning his attention to his work again,
Chester a the second ladder so that its
upper end was within easy reach of the win-
dow, and then ascended.

A groan came from the horrified spectators
below, then some one eried:

“She is gone! She has disappeared from |,

the window !’’

Then, immediately following, came a great
shout—a rousing cry of joy, and the voice of
Mary Ann was heard exclaiming:

“Hurrah! huroo! there’s the darling, an’
the bold lad is wid her! Ah! but it’s mesilf
that’ll give tin cints to the poor this day in
token.”

Looking up as he climbed the swaying lad-
der, Chester saw Tom standing in the window
holding Violet.in his arms, and the lad’s gen-
erous heart gave a throb of relief and pleas-
ure.

“Stand by, Tom, old boy;”’ he exclaimed,
with an enouraging wave of his hand, “I am
coming to-help you.’ :

It was warm work ascending through the
smoke and flames, but Chester reached the sill
at last, and taking the girl from Tom, rapidly
dropped down to the roof of the veranda,

Our hero vanished again, but soon reap-
peared, bearing another form. . Ts

“This is the last,” he called out, cheerily,

1

|
\

“Ah, ha! me bold lad, an’ it’s a hero ye
are,”’ she exclaimed, then suddenly throwing
arms around him, she gave him a resound-
ing kiss over his left eye, adding:

* “Tt isn’t ivery wan as gits that from Mary
Do yez want_an-

| other?’

 

It was evident that Tom had no such desire,

as he hastily retreated behind the group of
irs.
2 The incident caused every one to shout
with laughter, but it created a timely diver-
sion, and that was what Tom yearned for at
that moment.

Seeing an opportunity, he fled from the spot,
and joined Chester and the rest of the boys
from Pickle Academy, not without exchang-
ing several interesting glances with Violet,
however.

“Been having a good time, eh?’ remarked }.

Gage, winking'at vacancy.

‘““Now, for Heaven’s sake, don’t you com-
mence, Chester,”’ replied Tom, appealingly.
“It’s enough to have a whole seminary full of
girls clasping their hands, and rolling their
eyes, without a fellow’s chum joining in.
Come on! let’s return to the academy; I am
nearly dead for sleep.’

‘‘Wait a moment; here comes Mother Sim-
per, and I think she is looking for you,”

Tom groaned and glanced around for a way
to escape, but every avenue was barred.

Seeing Professor Pickle at the gate, Tom
started in that direction, pretending that he
had been called, but the ruse did not work.

The mistress of the seminary headed him off
before he could gain a haven of refuge, and
began an incoherent expression of thanks for
his bravery. \

“Pll remember you until my dying day,
young’man,”’ she exclaimed, acting “as if she
intended to follow Mary Ann’s example, but
Tom retreated toa safe distance before she
could carry out her idea. |

Then a thought struck him, and he said, re-
spectfully : ; cites

“Tam glad that T have been of any service
to you, Mrs. Simper; but do not let me detain
you, as your presence is probably needed else-
where at this unfortunate time.”

He hesitated, and then added, slyly:

‘““May I call some other day, and see how

you are getting along?”

“Tam not injured, young man,” she replied

grasped his |

ing to the academy, which the latter agreed
to. They immediately retired on reaching
the school, and slept until a late hour in the
afternoon.

It was a rest they heartily required, and
they awoke refreshed in spirit and ready for
more adventures.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE MAN IN THE LIBRARY.

—\ ET up, Chester, you lazy dog,” shouted
Tom, shying a boot at his chum,
stretched out on an adjacent bed.

A prolonged snore was the only re-
ly.

“Ding-a-ling! there goes the supper-bell.”

Gage gave a sudden spring, and landed upon
all fours on the floor.

“Ha! ha! I thought it would require some-
thing like that to awaken you,”’ laughed Tom.

“What! was it a false alarm?’ asked Ches-
ter, with a look of deep disgust upon his face,

eS

“Well, ’'m going back to

“Not much! You are up, and will stay out
of bed now,”’ exclaimed Tae: dragging him
away from the cot by one foot. “Come on
down stairs with me, and I’ll show you al-
most as much fun as sleeping.”’

“What’s that?” asked Gage, donning his
clothing.

“We'll go and badger Kane.’

“That’ll be bully!’ remarked Chester,
highly delighted. ‘But, I say, old fellow, are
you going to New York?”

“Yes, this very night. I suppose there will
be no trouble about getting permission?’

“‘N-no; I guess not; but Tom!?’

. Ves,”

“Do I go?”

Tom laughed at the eagerness expressed in
Chester’s voice, and replied:

“IT would like to have you, chum.
along, and we'll tackle the professor.”

“What about Kane?’’

“We'll tackle him also,”’ replied Tom,
grimly. ‘He was caught fair and square last
night, and I am going to make him explain
or” a

He clinched his hands in a manner boding
ill for the treacherous bully. a

The professor’s door was closed, but a sub-
dued knock from Chester brought an imme-
diate summons to enter.

The boys stepped into the sacred apartment,
with the hesitating and apologetic tread gen-
erally used by lads desiring a favor, and ad-
vanced to the desk.

Tom, who was in front, was just in the act
of bowing politely before stating his request,
when he noticed a gentleman seated near the
window.

The room was veiled in the dusk of evening,
and.at first he thought it was a stranger visit-
ing the professor, but suddenly the gentleman
arose and walked toward him, at the same
time extending one hand in greeting.

“Why, here is the young gentleman now,”
he said, in a suave voice. ‘‘How do you do,
Tom?’

To our hero’s intense surprise, he saw that
it was Nicholas Flint!

Chester gave a rather impolite exclamation,
and cried: nd ‘

“Cricky! It is the man in the naphtha
launch!’’

Giving Gage a warning glance, Tom ignored
his as hand, and replied, coldly:

“Tam very well, sir. This is rather an un-
expected visit, is it not?” .

. Flint bit his lip in evident annoyance.

“Yes, Tom, it is rather unex

.

Come

over for a few hours to see how you were get-
ting along. I am justin time, it seems, to
compliment you upon your bravery at the
seminary fire.’’

It suddenly struck Tom that it would bea
= idea to try and catch his

1d question, so he ignored the latter remark,
and asked, quickly:

eled thousands of miles in search of you, Mr.
Flint?”

Buf"Nicholas was too wary to be caught in
such.a trap.

He elevated his eyebrows in apparent aston-
ishment, and replied:

“T really do not understand your meaning.
Is this a joke or conundrum?” ~

Tom saw that his effort had failed, and he
felt deeply chagrined, but he pressed the sub-
ject, nevertheless.

“It is neither, sir,’’ he continued. ‘I am re-
ferring to the person whom you ‘entertained
in your study on the evening previous to my
coming here, and also the one you had confined

in the old house at the head of the lake last

night.’’

ir. Flint became ver
this apparently remarkable statement.

He glanced at Professor Pickle, who had

| been gazing from one to the other in amaze-

‘ment, and asked in a tone of concern:

 

“Ts my ward—er—ill, sir?”
“Not to my knowledge, Mr, Flint, but——”

cted. I have.
been up to Buffalo, and thought I would stop |

ardian. by a |

“What did you do with the man who trav-

grave on hearin3 |

} Rufus.

 

genious solution of the question, Professor
ickle stepped to his side, and asked, anx-
iously:

“Are you feeling unwell, Truxton?”’

“No, sir; I was never in better health in my
life. Why do you ask?”

The old professor appeared embarrassed,
and he hastily replied:

‘“*J—I—did not know but what yéu had re-
ceived some injury at the fire this morning.
Is your head all right?” =

“T repeat, sir, that I am not ill,” replied
Tom, warmly. ‘‘What does this question im-
ply, Professor Pickle?’

“Do not get excited,’”’ remarked Mr. Flint,
walking forward. ‘To tell the truth, I
thought from your most peculiar and absurd
remarks that you had become a trifle—er—
flighty, that is all.”

“You are playing a deep game, Mr. Flint,
but I’ll solve this mystery in spite of you,”
exclaimed Tom, firmly. ‘No let me
finish,’ he added, seeing that his guardian
was about to interrupt him.

“You and your servant, Cyrus Holt, were
seen here on several occasions, by not only
myself, but by my friend here and——”

“Yes; that man tried to drown us on the
lake, and he also wanted to shoot me yester-
day,’’ broke in Chester, shaking his fist in Mr.
Flint’s face.

‘‘Has your academy been transformed into
a lunatic asylum, sir?’ demanded the latter,
harshly.

He addressed the professor, who seemed to
be both annoyed and excited.

“J am sure f don’t know what has come into
these boys,’ replied Pickle, helplessly. ‘‘I
have never seen any traces of insanity in their
actions before.’’

“We are no more crazy than you are,”’ re-
torted Chester, rather disrespectfully. ‘But
that man will no doubt try to make Tom so.”

White with vage, Mr. Flint seized his hat
and rushed from the room,. calling back as he
passed through the door-way :

“T will send a physician to examine my
ward at once, sir, and will have him removed
where he cannot insult gentlemen with im-
punity.”’

“What do youmean by this disgraceful con-
duct?’ demanded the professor of Tom and
Chester, after Mr. Flint had disappeared.

‘*You do not understand the case, sir,’ re-
plied our hero, quietly.”

‘‘Weill, I must confess that I am totally
ignorant in the matter,” said the professor,
sarcastically. ‘Will you please enlighten
me?”

“What is the use, sir? You will only say
that we are insane,’’ responded Tom, bitterly.
“T am in doubt myself at times.”

“You are probably suffering under some
hallucination, Truxton,’”’ replied Mr. Pickle,
more kindly. ‘‘The excitement of to-day has
affected your nerves. Both youand Gage had
better rest for aday ortwo. No—notanother
word on this subject. Go to your room after .
tea, and keep quiet. In the meantime I will
write to your guardian, Good-night.”

The old professor—who was not a bad man
in his way—literally pushed them from the —
library. and closed the door, ~

At that moment the supper-bell rang, so the
two boys walked back to the dining-hail for
their evening meal. ;

While passing through the hall, Chester
turned to his companion, and asked, slyly:

“Anything peculiar in my appearance,
chum?” -

‘““Not that I can see.”’

“Isn’t my right eye jerking a little, and.
don’t my hair curl more than usual?’

“‘No. What in the duse do you ask such
questions for?” replied Tom, rather impa-
tiently.

“Humph! I didn’t know but what I had
really turned a little loony,’’ continued Gage,
in a doubtful voice. ‘That poe guardian
of yours would almost make a person think |
so 7? 7

Tom paused inthe hall, and shook ‘his head
ae after the manner of one deeply puz-
zled.

“f tell you, Chester; this affair is turning
my hair gray,’ he said, with a short laugh.
“Sometimes I think we have either been
dreaming, or else this is a most remarkable
case of mistaken identity. I couldswear that
it was Mr. Flint and Cyrus Holt we saw in
See esoe sit l eek hie aiey oc

“f know that I met this very. e guard-
ian of yours in the road vette” -

“And lam a Isaw both Cyrus and
Zo in that old house last night,” continued

om. :
cae Jove! we might get the truth from

im.””

coy ho?’

eae ae ht” replied :

“That is a y thoug repli om, his
face clearing. aiehtly. a i

Sanden

their |

= re, however, as one of the first boys —
e

encountered, stopped them to say that
Kane had just left the academy ona
visit home, with the privilege of remaining
for several weeks, : Pisses

 

ye'll try it after —
They were destined to be disappointed in = {
- minute, and the seminary girls can’t go.”’

-. elaimed Tom, in dismay, letting his tie drop.

to that effect.
ee in that burning building,” said Tom, wrath-
ful

__ if the girls don’t

: trees overhang the wall?’ asked Tom, eagerly.
ME gs oe R ’

Gage.

r
| . in loac r
_ ions and other articles.

a OK, yr:

. of jam packed in it this morning.”
that line,’”? laughed Tom.

anything about the programme for the day?”

_ gee such preparations,” Tom gayly remarked,-|

S818

‘He told the professor that he has been sick
all day,’’ continued the lad, with a grin.

“T guess he spoke the truth there,’ replied
Gage, significantly, then he added in a low
voice to Tom:

“Hell feel a blamed sight worse when we
interview him on his return, eh?’’

“T don’t like to wait, but I suppose we will
have to,’”’ answered Tom, following Chester
into the dining-room.

As it transpired, it was almost five weeks
before Rufus Kane returned to school, and
during that time both Tom and Chester had
almost began to believe that their experience
in the old house was only a hideous nightmare
-of the mince pie order.

Nothing was heard from Mr. Flint, except
a short note asking if his ward had entirely
recovered fr6m his mental illness.

This was answered by the professor in a sat-
isfactory manner, and the time passed by un-
eventfully, until the day before the Fourth of
July.

Tom had managed to gain admission into
Simper Seminary on several occasions, and he
and Violet were becoming great friends, when
something occurred to sever his cordial. rela-
tions with the antiquated mistress of the
school.

For several weeks before the glorious
Fourth, it was whispered about that Professor
Pickle had in contemplation a grand open air
picnic, and also that he expected to persuade
Mrs. Simper to give one at the same time,
making it a joint affair.

“Tf he succeeds in getting her consent, he’ll
have to mesmerize the old lady,’’ remarked
Chester to Tom, when the news came to his
ears.

“‘T hope he’ll make it all right,” replied
Tom. ‘‘because——’’

‘‘VWiolet will be there, eh!”

“Ve-es,”’? acknowledged our hero, scowling
at his tormentor, then he grinned, and added:

“Not only that, but just think of the grand
opportunities for fun, old boy.”

And fun they had in great quantities, as the
succeeding chapters will show.

x

CHAPTER XVIII.
TOM HAS AN ADVENTURE.

Ts no go, Tom,’ dolefully remarked
if Chester, entering their dormitory shortly
after breakfast on the morning of the

=> Fourth.
Tom was industriously arranging a gorgeous
efore the glass, and he glanced up in
m when his chum made the above

eM roodness’ sake! what’s the matter
now?” he asked. ‘Has old Pickle soured on
the affair, or is it going to rain?”’ oF
_ “Neither,” replied Gage, in a sfill more
lugubrious tone. ‘Worse than that,’

‘Speak out, confound you!”’

“Mrs. Simper has backed out at the last

“What! You are joking, old boy,” ex-

“No, that’s right; she sent a messenger over
here about five minutes ago, with a short note
7

“By Jove! I wish now that I had left her

“Tt can’t be helped. T am sorry for you,
Tom, but I guess we can have some fun even
Obie ee

“We'll papel try,”

a our hero,
brightening up a little. “Hi

“Have you heard

“We are going to that big grove of trees
just beyond the seminary, and——”’
“Do you mean the place where those large

n that case I think some of the girls will
un. Ha! ha! it won’t be my fault if
don’t. Id like to sneak out Mary Ann,
et her to give us an Irish jig.”
“she is the one that can do it,” chuckled
“Let me see, we are going to have a
boat race, athletic exercises, some lunch, and
fireworks in the evening.” te
‘What time do we start?” —~ ie
‘In about three minutes. You had better
hurry with that necktie.”
As it was doubtful that any of the seminary
girls would attend the picnic, Tom was not so
: ticular about his appearance, and soon
Finished his toilet. me

They found four big vans drawn up in the |

ont yard, and a dozen boys busily engaged
padibe them with huge baskets of provis-

“Tt almost makes a fellow’s mouth water to |

as they passed the wagons, ~ i *

je your eye on that basket with the

green tic," replied Chester, with a mysterious
wink. ‘I saw eight cold chickens, and a pot

“Trust you for seeing what is going on in
- They, with several other lads, were detailed
to proceed in advance of the vans, and clear
the grounds of underbrush.

- The place selected, as mentioned neice
was a eS ee Simper Seminary,
and separated from it by a high stone wall

coct a plan b:

‘out here;

‘proaching the bush.

 

presence at the picnic. tie:
Pron arriving opposite the gate where the
memorable bear adventure had occurred, Tom

»

GooD

ome et Se ALR ee nk oe

told his chum to proceed with the rest of the
boys,

“T am going to call on Mother Simper,’’ ke
whispered, ‘‘and at thesame time have a quiet
talk witheMary Ann. She thinks a lot of me,
and maybe I can persuade her to sneak out
Violet and some others.’’

“Look out for the old lady,’’ warned Gage,
as he moved away. ‘‘They say she is on the
war-path.”’

“Oh, I’ soft-soap her all right,’’ responded
Tom, carelessly.

His ring at the bell brought a superannu-
ated attendant, who acted as general porter
at the seminary.

“Ts Mrs. Simper in?’ asked Tom, politely.

“What's that to you?” replied the ancient
servitor, with a scowl.

He hated all the boys as a rule, and Tom in
particular, because of numerous pranks which |
the latter had played on. him.

‘Perhaps you did not understand me,’’ con-
tinued Tom, still more politely. He slipped
him a piece of silver as he spoke.

The porter glanced at him, with a mollified
expression on his wrinkled face, and then re-
plied in the affirmative.

““D’ye want to see her?’ he added.

“Um! notin particular, but I would like to
have a word with Mary Ann.’

“Can't be did.”

“Why not?”

“Ye paid me to see the missus,’ said the old
man, with a greedy leer.

“Oh, ho! that’s your game, is it?”’ replied |
Tom. ‘‘Well, here’s another quarter. Now
let me in.”

As he walked through the gate, the old por-
ter cautioned him to keep out of sight, add-
ing:

“The missus has a spell o’ temper, an’ she’ll
skin yer alive.”

“She'll also. abstract a portion of your
epidermis,”’ coolly retorted Tom. ‘If she |
eatches me, Ill say that you asked me to |
come in.”’

“Come back, consarn yer!’’ yelled the old
man, evidently alarmed at this threat.

But Tom had disappeared behind a bush,
and refused to obey.

He crept cautiously toward the back of the
house, and luckily found the cook hard at
work near the kitchen window.

‘Hist!’ Tom signaled from a near-by bush.

“Phat is. that, I dunno?’ exclaimed Mary
Ann, glaring suspiciously at a cat dozing
peacefully on the sill.

“Hist! it’s me, Tom Truxton,’’ replied that
youth, in.a louder key. ’

“Where are yez, Tom?’ she asked; then
espying his grinning face between the
branches, she burst into a series of chuckles.

‘‘AK! but love, young love will make an
idjut of a b’y as well as a man,”’ she giggled.
‘An’ what is it, now, me bold spalpane? Ye
do be, wantin’ to carry off Miss Violet, I
reckon. Well, she’s a foine gyrul, there’s no
mistake, But phat have yez to elope on; a

oat? he! he!”

“Stop that nonsense, Mary Ann, and come
I want to tell you something,”
quoth our hero, reddening at the cook’s chaff.

“Phat is it, me b’y?’ she answered, a
“Tell me, an’. make

ste, as the ould lady do be walking around
the yard, an’ she’s got a baste ay a dog, too,
that’ll swally yez whole.”’

“A dog, eh? when did she get it?’ asked
Tom, in surprise.

i thd Seee Cag © he has a mout’ like a hippy
—hippy—pot— like one av thim animiles yez
see in the Central Park garden.”

“You mean a hippopotamus.’’

“Vis, that’s him. Now, phat do ye want?” |

Tom huiriedly explained that he wished her
to smuggle Violet aiid several companions to
the picnic, if possible, and also to grace the
ceremonies with her own presence.

“We're going to have loads of fun,’ he
added, eagerly. ‘‘There willybe a boat race,
music, fireworks, lunch, a chase after a greasy
pig, and——”’ ’

“Yez do be brutes to slather an innocent
cratur like a pig, an’ thin hunt him down,”
interrupted Mary. Ann, TeproyInaay,

‘Well, if you will only come and bring the
girls, ll seé that his pigship will have a seat
at the first table,” pleaded ‘fom.

“Oi may put thim over a place in the wall
near the lake, about four be th’ clock,’’ mused

-Mary Ann.

“Do, That’s a good girl.”

“Ye will have thim back before dark?’

“Ves,”

“Well, just bide here a moment, an’ Oi’ ll—
murther! there’s the ould lady, an’ tle dog!
Run, Tom, or ye’ll be kilt!”

Mary Ann pointed a shaking finger down
the path leading around the house, and then
set out for the kitchen door ina series of leaps
that would have startled a kangaroo.

Tom peered over the bush, and saw Mrs.
Simper advancing toward him, leading an

fugly bull-dog by a chain.

“By Jove! Ihopeshe hasn’t seen me!’’ he
ejaculated, ruefully.
But she had, Her sharp eyes—always on

the lookout for suspicious objects—discovered |

the crown of his hat above the green leaves,

and she bore down on him in a great rage.
Believing that his best move would be to

brazen it out, Tom stepped forth and advanced

onl eee: Sige Se _| toward her, with a cordial smile, and several |
ee ‘This fact caused Tom’s fertile brain to con- |
which he could secure Violet’s

soft words. ~ a ;
The plan might have succeeded if the dog
had known him, but he was a total stranger,

| ingly headed in that direction.

| the horror of the excited eye-witnesses, the

simply tumbli

 

and Bull was not partial to such.
At the first sight of ‘Tom, he gave

a sudden

NEW S.

 

 

 

 

 

spring forward, and breaking loose from the
chain, tore through the intervening space like
a rocket.

Mrs. Simper—who had no real intention of
inflicting an injury on any human being—
gave a shriek of dismay, and attempted to re-
call the dog. — It was too late.

Just as soon as Tom saw that Bull was free,
he did not wait for the attack, but. turned and
fled down the lawn at his utmost speed.

It was certainly a wise move, as he had
neither a club or a stone with which to de-
fend himself,

A dozen windows opened in the upper. part
of the building, anda dozen girlish heads
peeped out, attracted by Mrs. Simper’s out-
ery, and then twelve large sized shrieks rent
the air,

Among the spectators was Violet Vaughn.
She screamed louder than all the rest, when
she recognzied Tom, but he neither saw nor
heard her, as his entire attention was taken
up by Bull.

Mary Ann emerged from the kitchen, armed
with a kettle of hot water, but she was not in
the race. By that time Tom had reached the
stone fence separating the grounds from the
picnic grove.

He still had time in his mad flight to espy a
tree slanting toward the wall, and he accord-

Just as Bull reached his heels, he scrambled
up the trunk, and made a flying leap for the
ee of the wall.

dis hands grasped the upper ledge, but. to
stone became detached, and Tom fell back into
the very jaws of the infuriated brute!

(£0 BE CONTINUED.)
> > —___——_ ,
|This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form]

BENEATH THE WAVES;
The Cruise of the Electric Conqueror,
By EMERSON BELL, ,

Author of “The Electric Air and Water Wizard,”

*

{“BENBATH THE WAVES” was commenced in No.

201.. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents; }

CHAPTER XX.
HUMAN FIENDS,

es HEN they had secured their pris-
ON f. oners, the blacks gave loud and joy-
\ ous cries, and danced about the
oc) boats in savage delight. ....... .
They paid no attention to their own dead,
them overboard...

Several of the negroes entered the Good
Luck, as a prize crew or guard over Robert
and Dandy, and taking the little craft in tow,
the savages paddled away in an eastern direc-
tion.

During the day Robert discovered faint out-
lines of land low down on the horizon, toward
which they were going.

Early the following morning they reached
shore, and. Robert and Dandy were brutally
driven from their little boat, in which they
had lain bound for many hours, and marched
toward a village of huts back inland.

It was not until they left the boats that our
friends discovered there was another prisoner,

Robert spoke to him and received a reply
which he did not entirely comprehend, as. it
was in French, which he could speak but in-
differently. ‘

Instantly, on hearing the French tongue,
Robert’s thought turned tothe old French
professor’s daughter, Zuleika Ampere, and
the boy’s heart ached to think how they had
nelected her in their prolonged search for |
crazy old David’s wonderful box.

The Frenchman was a plump, tender-look-
ing little man, whose fatness was an evident
source of joy to their captors, for they often
felt of his arms and body, with gestures of
eating that made Robert’s heart turn cold. —

Robert kept trying to converse with the
Frenchman, and this finally so provoked one
of his guards, that he struck the boy a terrible
blow on the head with the butt of one of the
captured Winchester magazine rifles,

he blow staggered Robert, and almost
knocked his senses out of him, but it brought
its own punishment upon the savage, for when
the lock struck the white oer ead, it dis-
charged the gun, and the bullet pierced the
black’s body, inflicting a fatal wound.

Seeing this the blacks threw all the rifles
Sane, and they lay untouched along the road-
side. - : Pe

The entire village turned out to meet the
returning savages, and when they saw the
white prisoners, they commenced a furious
dance of triumph, accompanied with a wild
shouting, to experss their ferocious joy. tary

The: village was peopled by human brutes
from‘every island in the Dutch Kast Indies,
sprinkled with renegade Arabs, and offcasts
from the worst classes of Southern India, and
natives of the South Seaislands. =

‘‘We will be on their bill of fare soon,
Dandy,”’ said Robert, ‘unless we escape.”

“Den we better ’scape,”’ said Dandy.

poet L.Bout

the hut. =

ing to spit the taste of

shaking

 

Among the blacks Dandy first noticed a tall,
bright-skinned girl of about seventeen years ’
of age, who was really very pretty.

She wore bright-colored clothes, and was
ornamented extravagantly with beads, and
also with many valuable jewels, including
diamonds and golden trinkets, which plainly
ectehge that she was a princess among the
ripe.

Bob kept his eyes on this girl steadily, after
Dandy had pointed her out to him.

_ He noted with pleasure that she took no part °
in the wild dance, but stood apart, looking on
with aface that showed no interest inthe
cannibal orgies.

Presently her big dark eyes met Robert’s,
and a look of interest swept over her face. *

Robert was considered quite a ladies’? man
at home, and now, seeing that he had made a
favorable impression on the wild island girl,
he determined to get all there was out of it of
benefit to himself and Dandy. y

Fixing on the girl a steady, admiring gaze,
he soon saw her cheeks flush, and a smile
parted her thick red lips.

‘She knows she is beautiful,’’? thought
Robert, “‘and is proud of her conquest. Well,
so am I.”

_While musing thus hopefully, Robert felt
himself rudely seized by the shoulders and
hurried along to the door ofa dark and
gloomy hut, through which he was hurled.

He struck the wall on the opposite side, and
fell to the floor. Before he could rise, Dandy
came flying through the door and fell on top
of him.

“My gracious, what a system!” cried’
Dandy, recalling the old joke of a Jew who
was thrown down three flights of stairs, one .
after another, by three different janitors,

The door closed with a bang, and the Good
Luck crew found themselves in semi-dark-
hess, and pocnrely bound hand and foot.

They had not been long in the room before
the door opened again and the young girl,
upon whom Robert had made so pleasant an
impression, entered the room, bearing in her
hands a vessel which contained water.

She walked directly to the white boy’s side,
searcely giving black Dandy a glance, and
began to bathe the wound made on his head
by the blow of the Winchester rifle.

Her touch was very light, and she dressed
the hurt so well that Robert felt greatly re-
lieved.

“T thank you,’ said Robert, when she had
finished, and stood before him. 2
* She smiled in a pleased manner, and the
white boy then caught her in his arms, and
kissed her pretty lips again and again.

‘“Youwll get black on your teef, Mars
Robert,’ said Dandy, making a sorry effort
to act as ‘‘end man’’ under difficulties.

“Don’t! Don’t!” cried the girl.

“My goodness!’’ cried Robert, releasing the
girl at her firstery. ‘You talk likethe Amer-
ican girls!’

She laughed merrily, and said:

34 ha! Come back?” _ :

Robert had been so surprised when. she
spoke English, and the words came so pat, and
in such a civilizéd girlish tone of remonstrance,
that he could not say a word until she had left

The girl would, no doubt, have remained
longer, but she had heard an approaching
footstep outside, and hardly was she clear of
the door-way before another entered.

This new-comer was the chief.

He looked first at Dandy, from whom he
turned with a grunt of Lagrent: and then
nodded Serena upon Robert.

He evidently preferred white meat, thought
the boy captive, grimly.

Tearing away Robert’s clothes, he carefully

| felt over his body, a scowl of disappointment

= the boy’s leanness gradually settling on his
ace,

_ He then examined Dandy, with more pleas-
ing results. sa

“he little coon was extremely fat.

“Um—um—yuh!”’ said the old chief, turn-
ing away. at,

“De old wretch shorély gwineter eat me,”
wailed Dandy, when they were left alone.
“It must be mighty low-down trash what
would eat a nigger-——”’

‘You're so fat and juicy, Dandy,” said
Robert. trying to be jolly, in spite of fate,
“that I believe I could eat a bit of you myself
now, and——’”

Just as he was speaking, the door again
opened and several of the natives entered, one
of them carrying a curious pot of sea grass,

| which was filled with a nauseous-looking mess

of black muck of the consistency of hash,

Sitting down beside Robert, the black first
aihped his own hand into the pot and took out
a eee of the stuff, and ate it with great
relish, . sa

Then he offered Robert a handful.

The white boy turned away in disgust.

All the savages at once raised angry cries,
Then they rushed at Robert, turned him on
his back, and literally sat down on him, hold-

ing up his arms and legs, while the black with
the pot, stuffed several handsful of the black —
mess into his mouth, and forced him to swal-

| low it.

In vain did the boy kick and fight,
- He made a hearty meal before they let up

on him, :

With cries of laughter the savages took their
departure, while Robert lay groaning and try-
; he stuff out of his
mouth. Als
Dandy rolled over and over on the ground,

with laughter, >

“‘Dey’s gwine fatten you, too, Mars Bob,”
he said. ‘Den maybe I git a bit ob white
meat——”” > oe .

 
  
    

 

 

 
  
  
       
    
  
    

 

Dandy’s speech was interrupted by the re-
turn of the pretty savage girl, Boutha.

“You talk with me?’’ asked Robert at once.

“Tittle bit talk, yuh,’’ she said.

After many questions, not understood by
her, and many replies Robert could not com-
prehend, Boutha made it clear that she had
once been for a time in the hands of mission-
aries,

She had learned to speak English quite well,
and to love English victuals, but could not for-
get her own people. Escaping from the
whites, she had made her way back home—
but would no longer eat human flesh.

Robert asked why he had been literally
stuffed with the disgusting black food.

“Make fat quick,’ said Boutha. ‘Chief
wants eat um.”’

““When?”’

“Quick—soon—big hurry,”’ replied the girl.

It had not seemed possible before, but now
Robert realized his awful position. He was
being fattened, just as a farmer fattens his
pigs.

“Boutha, dear Boutha,’’ said the boy, ‘will
they actually kill and eat us.”’

Boutha nodded a vigorous affirmative.

“Save me, Boutha.”’

‘No. Eat him first,’ said the girl, with a
gesture outside, which they knew referred to
the fat little Frenchman. ‘‘Then him,’’ point-
ing to Dandy. ‘‘You get fat, dey eat you.”

Boutha then went away, and soon afterward
a number of blacks came, and untying the
captives’ ankles, made motions that they
should come outside.

“Dey’s gwine roas’
guesses,’’ said Dandy.
Karl, an’ tell him——”’

The little coon’s voice failed, and he shook
hands very solemnly with Robert, as they left
the hut.

The first-thing Robert and Dandy saw was
a big, bright fire out on the edge of the vil-
lage.

Two strong, forked sticks stood on either
side of the fire, and a pole rested in the forks,
and lay across the fire.

A great, noisy crowd of women and children
were sitting about the fire.

Robert and Dandy were given seats where
they could see the performance at its worst—
as they soon learned.

‘““T guess dey’s gwine keep me for dessert,”’
moaned Dandy, as he took the seat pointed
out by his guard beside Robert.

Soon they sawa procession coming from the
hut in which the Frenchman had been con-
fined.

All the men, except the guards over our
friends, were about the poor captive, and
dragged him, with wild shouts and yells,
toward the fire on which he was soon to be
roasted.

When they paused beside the fire, . the
doomed man fell on his knees and prayed for
mercy. His fervent prayer brought. iears Wy
the eyes of the other captives, but the appeal
was cut short in a merciless manner.

A big black Papuan negro approached softly
from behind, saat struck him senseless with a
club. :

Then ensued a horrible scene, as they took
the body and fastened it upon the cGross-pole
lying on the forks, and danced around the

me for supper, I
“Gib my Inb to Mars

feast in a wild. revel until the flesh was}

roasted.

‘When the last turn had been given the
corpse, and the meat was ready, the body was
laid before the chief, who selected his favorite
pieces, and turned the body over to the tribe.

~ Men, women and children crowded around
the sickening remains, fighting for places,
until the bones were picked bare.

While the fight over the body was going on,
Dandy and Robert gradually moved back un-
til they stood apart from the cannibals, but
there were many eyes on them.

Among these were the chief, and his daugh-
ter, Boutha.

The girl seemed speaking of them to her
father, and finally the old chief nodded assent
to some proposition made by the girl, and at
the same moment gave her a portion of his
part of the Frenchman’s body. :

With this bit.of flesh in her hand, Boutha
walked over to Robert, and with a smile
offered it to the boy, at the same time whis-
pering: .

‘‘Kat dis. Isave you.” a

With an involuntary gesture of loathing
Robert waved her off.

An expression of sadness fell wpon the girl’s
face, and she walked back to the chief.

Boutha’s proposition was a simpleone. She
had fallen in love with Robert, and plead for
his life with the big black chief, who agreed to
spare the white boy’s life on condition that
he “pe become a member of the cannibal
band.

‘4 z do this he must begin by eating human
esh.

Robert refused. ’

‘We eat them both,’’ said the old chief, with

a gesture of pleasure toward Robert and
Dandy. —

 

CHAPTER XXI.
THE AFRICA CAPTURES THE BIG CHIEF.

1 5 ) “eck wil HARNEY, standing on

deck with his officers, held long and
~&

CrOOD

ticipation of swift and terrible vengeance
upon Harney, for the pirate captain had
said:

‘*We will return and sink your enemy to the
bottom of the sea, and you shall cut him into
thin slices, if you like.”

On Harney’s vessel every one was in a state
of great excitement, and crowded the deck
railings as they anxiously watched the black
pursuer,.

‘‘What. does he mean by following us so
closely?’ “asked Harney of his captain.

‘Tt may be a. trader whose course is the
same as ours, which I doubt. It may be a
pirate whose. object is to capture us, which I
strongly believe.”’

“Then there can be but one such vessel in
these waters,’’ gasped Harney, ‘‘and that
is

 

“The Africa?’

“ey es. ?

The cowardly schemer’s face was now
ghastly pale.

“Tt is the Africa,” said the captain.

“Can we do nothing to beat him off?’ asked
Harney.

‘‘Nothing,’’ said the captain, sorrowfully
shaking ‘his head. ‘‘Nothing but to run away
from him if possible. If our heels cannot save
us, nothing else can, for the Africa is the best
armed vessel that sails the Pacific and Indian
Oceans. No man-of-warof any nation dares
tackle Captain Black alone.”’

“Ts the Big Chief doing its best—its very
best?”? ~

“Tt is.”

“And it”’—pointing toward the pursuer—
“it is gaining on us steadily?”

TG Is.

Wallace Harney turned away, and walked
up and down the deck, cursing all things bit-
terly.

tven in that dark moment he thought less
of his past misdeeds than of the failure of his
plans of immediate future wrong-doing.

It was hard, indeed, to be crossed there
within a few hours of the very spot which he
had sailed half around the world to reach.

»sEverything had worked so well up to that
time.

He had rid himself—as he believed—of the
young lawyer; had intimidated Doctor Tan-
ner, and brought away the wife of old David
Raffles from the asylum.

In a few hours, he hoped, his wreckers would
have recovered from the bottom of the sea
the documentary evidence which would have
‘secured him undisputed possession of a fortune
for life, and rendered his enemies powerless to
injure him. .

The pursuing ship, like a black cloud, under
the double power of steam and sails, swept

 

|

tain Black. He and [ ought to work together.

nearer every moment. ;
“By all the powers on earth,”

wicked schemer, ‘I’li anake terms with Cap-

cried the

Aelia aiaecalt the treasure for the papers,
ar

His face became as a death-mask, however,
the next instant, when he saw a puff of smoke
dart suddenly from the Africa’s bow, heard a
booming report across the waters, and saw
the black flag swung from his pursuer’s peak.

“See!” he yelled to his captain, ‘‘do you see
what he is doing?”’

“ce Y es. 17

‘“Put on more speed.”’

“It is impossible. We are running under
dangerous pressure now,’’

Hang the pressure!’’ screamed Harney.
“Do as [order you, or——’’

“All right,” said the captain, walking
away.

Soon, under the awful heat of  oil-jets
sprayed into the glowing furnaces, the Big
Chief sprang spasmodically ahead.

The gain was only temporary. The Africa
easily added another knot, and closed in on
the Big Chief.

Again Harney’s heart sank in utter despair.

Great confusion had reigned on board the
Big Chief all this time, but on board the pirate
vessel all had been kept as orderly as possible.

Captain Black enforced rigid discipline.

The race was but an everyday affair with
Seats

When Harney’s vessel made its unexpected

 

spurt, Captain Black quickened his speed to
correspond; but the extra trouble provoked
him bitterly.

Lawyer Clair rather enjoyed the prolonged
chase. :

He knew it could result in but one way, and
enjoying in imagination the long-drawn agony
of his enemy was exquisite joy to him.

He recalled all the injuries Harney had
done him, according to Tom Tanner’s story,
and from what he knew himself, and grated
his teeth with anger, and promised himself
sweet revenge soon.

The two vessels plunged madly onward,
dashing the water from their prows in silvery
showers. Wild with fear, Harney put every
ounce of power possible into his engines,

Wild with the excitement of the chase, and
hopeful of rich spoils, the Africa was driven
onward by its pirate chief at the greatest pos-
sible speed.

Wallace Harney had hoped that he might
escape at night, but this fond hope was dashed
when the moon came out brilliantly, making
the broad ocean bright as a field of burnished |
silver and bringing the Big Chief up into view
as clear as see.
The long night dragged away.

board was torn from its place, the crew

NEWS.

pence DL tenicetdeisatieek ne

Slowly but steadily Captain Black crept up
on his victim.

The blood-thirsty pirates yelled wildly at
the assurance that the prey was now their
own, and the Big Chief’s crew groaned in bit-
ter despair.

Captain Black had informed his men that
the vessel they were chasing carried a. fine
cargo of liquors, to which each man should
help himself as soon as the crew were disposed
of.

This was the strongest incentive he could
have given the desperate gang whom he com-
manded,

Mad with the liquor and blood-thirst the

Chief.

The long range bow gun of the Africa spoke
again in its tones of deadly import, and this
time a shot whizzed through the rigging of
Harney’s vessel.

“On! On!’ shrieked Harney. ‘*‘Give the
engines more power. I will never surrender.”

Other shots quickly followed the first from
the pirate, cutting the stays, and wrecking
the rigging in many places.

Ready hands repaired all damages quickly,
however, and the Big Chief kept swiftly on-
ward.

The pirate grew furious,

His cannon belched forth flames and smoke
and deadly solid shot, and presently the main-
mast on Harney’s ship was seen to fall,

A wilder yell than any yet went up from
the pirates as they saw this disaster to their
victim.

Harney walked his deck, realizing in wrath
and despair that escape was now impossible.

Rapidly the Africa closed in, firing as it
came, until the Big Chief, struck in many
places, lay at the mercy of Captain Black.

Tacking skillfully, the pirate swung along-
side the Big Chief, not more than a hundred
yards away, and poured a deadly broadside
into the doomed vessel.

Many of Harney’s crew were killed, and his
vtssel lay almost helpless on the waves.

*“Haul down the colors,”’ said the captain of
the Big Chief.

**Never—never—nev—’’ cried Harney.

‘*We must—or sink,’”’ said the captain, and
the colors were lowered against Harney’s pro-
test

Firing on board the pirate ceased at once,
and Captain Black cried out:

“Do you surrender unconditionally?”

Yes,’ said Harney’s captain.

The foiled schemer himself remained silent.

— much the better for you,’’ was the grim
reply.

Captain. Black then came aboard the Big
Chief, and after a short consultation with
Harney, gave his men orders to board the
prize at once.

Harney’s heart-was like lead in-his bosom,
as‘hestood helpless before his heartless captor.
~ But aninstant later it bounded wildly, hope-
fully, as he glanced out over the surface of the

sea.
A long, bright streak was dashing directly
toward the pirate and its victim.

black man were standing erect within a nar-
row railing, waving their hats and shouting.

A wild hope came into Harney’s breast, but
faded again in a moment.

In some mysterious manner the men disap-
peared, and the black hull, raft, or whatever
it might be, sank into the sea.

“Ha! She is our meat, boys,” cried Cap-
tain Black. ‘Board her at once!’’

With wild yells his motley horde of outlaws
ao ruffians from every land prepared to
obey.

Just at this instant a pirate also caught
sight of the “bright streak’? which Harney
had seen. It had risen to the surface nearer
the Africa.

He reported the fact at once to the captain.
Captain Black gazed apprehensively at the
mysterious craft through his glass.

“What is it, captain?’ asked Shaw, the
nx

ate, :
» ‘It looks like a gun-boat,”’ replied the pirate
chief, in a puzzl 2.
Instinctively the knowledge seemed to
spread among the men that a mysterious and
terrible danger threatened them, and a chill
% superstitious terror and fear ran through
them. ; :
The wheel was neglected, and the vessels
drifted apart.
Wallace Harney encouraged his men by
pointing out the dark hull of their curious
preserver, and as the pirates grew panicky,
the Big Chief’s crew began to hope again.
Again a man appeared on top the dark hull,
and after gazing amoment at the black flag
of the pirate Africa disappeared.
That man was Karl Krupp.
The Conqueror was once more on hand,.and
ready to fight.
Karl was resolved to immediately destroy
the pirate.
‘Put full power on both screws,”
on descending into the Conqueror,
stern, and ram that black pirate.”’
_ Atew moments later the Africa was con- |
vulsed from stem to stern, every object on

said Kar]
“bow and

thrown to the deck, and the mighty vessel lay |
a wreck upon the waters.

The Conqueror had conquered the king of
the seas,

.

(f0 BE GONTINUED.)

 

 

' anxious consultations as the dread
black ship came nearer and nearer,
Coins? bent on running down the Big

Lawyer Clair’s heart beat quickly in an-

The Africa was so close to the Big Chief at
daybreak that the pirate’s decks could easily
be swept by Harney’s glass.

4 -

pirates swept closer and closer to the Big |

{ and he says the reason of it is this:’”’
Three young white men and a fat little |

Se ee

OWHERE has a truer standard of
character, nor a nobler democracy
\)N been set up, than that of a certain
</\ grammar school in an Eastern city.

About a year ago, at the beginning of the
term, a new pupil made his appearance. By
his quiet, gentlemanly bearing, uniform cour-
tesy, and kindness, no less than his good
scholarship, Tom soon became a general fav-
orite in the school. Not much was known of
him outside of the school-room, it being his
habit to quickly disappear when school was
dismissed, instead of loitering about for a
chat or a play with the other boys.

After a while this habit of his became
noticed and commented upon by his compan-
ions. A sort of mystery seemed to envelop
Tom. A mystery, of all things, to a boy is
fascinating. Where did Tom go? Why did
he disappear so quickly? Who was Tom, any-
how?

The thing. was soon solved. Tom was
tracked, not exactly to his lair, but to the
basement! There he ‘was, with a big apron
covering him from head to foot, shoveling
coal.

‘Father,’ he calls, ‘‘I think the furnace all
right for to-night.”’

“Very well, my son,’ says the janitor.
That settled it. Tom was the janitor’s son,
and helped him work!

The next morning, in spite of the warm at-
mosphere of the school-room, which his father
carefully maintained, Tom felt a somewhat
chilly wave strike him now and then. But
Tom was no coward, and strong in the con-
sciousness of right and integrity of purpose,
applied himself only the more diligently to
his studies, and let the weather moderate
| itself.

A few days after the great discovery made
by the boys, in the course of the history les-
son, a description of the battle of Shiloh was
asked for. But one pupil ventured to give
such, that one being the janitor’s boy. In
vivid words a most truthful account of this
famous battle was laid before the class, and
so glowing and real became the scene, as de-
picted, that in astonishment the teacher said:

‘Why, Tom, how do you know all this?”

“Oh, my father was in that battle, and he
has told me all about it.”

The janitor’s boy is likewise a soldier’s boy!

After that, when the history of a battle was
included in the lesson, the class was asked if
any one could give a description fron: i
it told by a soldier who had taken pai it,
and again and again did Tom descri
scenes. One day the discussion of the ies
of the two generals of a certain battle waxed
warm and close. The question must be set-
tled, and Tom is ee to. But he, too, is
distracted and divided in his opinion.

““Wait,’’ he shouts, and disappears. Pres-
ently he emerges from the janitor’s quarters.

(a he says, “because father says so,
And no
longer is the janitor only a crippled man,
who attends to the building, but an honored
soldier.

 

———_~-0-e
STUCK TO HIS WORD.

 

—_—_——

out? If you have any business with me, you’ll
have to call during office hours.’’
Peddler—‘“‘Isn’t this one of
hours?”

“No, sir.”

your office

watch. Now, if there’s anything you need in
the way of pocket combs, toothpicks, hair-
pins, cuff-buttons, keyrings, pencils,pens, ink
paper, or jewsharps, here’s your chance. I
call your attention to a neat little device

that’s a whole box of tools in itself. Opex
out in this style it’s a corkscrew.. Folded v

screw-driver.. By pulling out this little ar-
rangemant, as you see, and adjusting itin this
manner, it becomes a pair of dividers. Restor-
ing it to its original shape and pressing a lit-
tle spring, right here on the back—don’t be in
a hurry. You haven’t seen half its good
points yet—it resolves itself into a six-inch
rule on_one side, and a paper-knife on the
other. Pull out this small lever, and you
have a handy nut-cracker. Here, on the end,
is a handle for the insertion of this little file,
that lies eee ene along the side. By
successive changes, this wonderful little im-
plement can be made into a miatch-box, a

pair of tweezers——”’
“Look here, you impu——”’

= tual calendar, a cigar-holder,
needle case, a fountain pen, and a universal
watch key, and all J ask for this marvelous
little combination——”’ ~ . ‘

“Tf you don’t get out of here P11——”
“Ts sixty-five cents, but my minute’s up.
I’m a man of my-word, and you couldn’t buy
this thing now if you were to shove a five-
dollar bill at me and get down on your knees,
and good-morning to you; see?”’
And he was off. SSS

“Which one of the guides do you suggest
that I hire?’ asked an English tourist of an
innkeeper in the Swiss Alps. ‘If I were you
I'd hire rl. His brother is the village

 

A firkin of butter weighs 56 pounds.

priest, and will not charge anything for say
ing a few masses for the repose of your soul.’?

Lawyer—‘Don’t you see I’m about to go

again, and opened at the other end, it’s a

wrench, a gimlet, a lamp-chimney cleaner, a

 

“Allright. I’ll make a minute of it by the .

  
 

      
   
1 3months - - - -

 

 

SSUED WEEKLY.

 

NEW YORK, APRIL 28, 1894.

 

Terms to Good News Mail Subscribers:
(POSWAGE FREE.)

One Year - - - - =$2.50

4months - - - - 8c. | 2 Copies, one year- - 400

6 months - - - -_- 81.25) 1 copy, two years. - >. 4.00

- Goop News anv N. Y. WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.50

- 65¢c.

     
   
     

  

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rt you : 1
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Back numbers: of GOOD NEWS can always be
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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.

 

———————?—— leg le Neen Snosage

Contents of this Number,
SERIAL STORTES.

‘Little Hickory of the Mountain Express,”
by Victor St. Clair.

“Captured at Sea,” by Clarence Converse.

“Tom ‘Cruxton’s Schooldays,” by Harvey
Hicks.

“Beneath the Waves,” by Emerson Bell.

“Stolen Gold,” by Arthur M. Winfield.

‘Left in Chicago,” by pene H. Lewis.

“That Young Scamp Billy,” by Larry Lee.

SHORT STORIES.

=i Dog,” by W. H. Graffam.

Janitor’s Boy.”

Case of Gunn,” by Max Adeler.

“An Indian Woman's Revenge,” by I, A.
Misionery. —

‘How Watiles Was Tested,” by William
Murray Graydon.

“A Perilons Situation,” by G. A. Allenton.

‘Savages Outwitted.” :

“*A Daring Ride,” by Ralph Morgan.

“How We Became Cowboys’—The Good
News Story Tellers’ Club.

“Well Supplied.”
REGULAR DEPARTMENTS.

‘Short Talks With Boys,” by Arthur

  
  

   
  

_. Sewall, pele
‘Ticklets,” by Chas, W. Foster.”
“Mail Bag,” “xchange Department,”

Club Notices,” etc.

nae SPT RS

BEGINS NEXT WEEK!

We opon Yolume Nine next week with
the first installment of an absorbing serial
_ entitled

JOE THE SURVEYOR;

,

A LOST CLAIM.

aa

CAMEROON

eg eae aetind

THE VALUE OF
BY EDWARD STRATEMEYER.

This story, the scenes of which are laid
in the wild regiofis of Pennsylvania, and in
Philadelphia, cannot help but please every
one of our readers, Manly Joe Hurley is a
hero of the right sort, and his various ad-
ventures will be followed with keen inter-
est to the end.

_—_—___~- ee ____—
Soon ‘To Forxow !.

The very best of setial stories by
Lieut. Lionei Lounsprrry, é
: Ernest A. Youne,
Wittiam Murray GRAYDON, fe ae
Harry DanaerFiexp,

>.

_Joun H, Waureson,

: Lieut. James K. Onron,

And all our favorite authors.

Wateh Out for Them !

 

os Tell Your Friends About Them !

 

   

THE CASE OF GUNN.

BY MAX ADELER,

lia eee

tas GOOD deal of interest was felt, down
YWeo\e our way, in the case of Gunn versus

~\k. Barclay, which was tried recently in
A the county court. It involved a ques-
tion of the ownership of Gunn’s right leg.
Gunn related the facts of the case to meas
follows:

‘*Y ou see, one day last winter, while I was
shoveling snow off of the roof of my house, I
slipped and fell over on the pavement below.
When they picked me up, they found that my
right leg was fractured. Dr. Barclay exam-
ined it, and gave it as his opinion that morti-
fication would be certain to set in unless that
leg came off. So I told him he’d better chop
it away, and he went round to his office, and
presently he came back with a butcher knife,
and a cross-cut saw, and a lot of rags. Then
they chloroformed me, and while I was asleep,
they removed that leg. WhenI came to [
felt pretty comfortable, and the doctor, after
writing some prescriptions, began wrapping
my off leg up in an old newspaper; then he
tucked the bundle under his arm, and began
to move toward the door. I was watching
him all the time, and I hollered at him:

“Where in the mischief are you going with
that leg of mine?’

‘Tm not going anywhere with a leg of
yours,’ he said. ‘But I’m going home with
my leg.’

‘**Well, you’d better drop it,’ said T.
leg belongs to me, and I want it.
for a keepsake.’

“And you know he faced me down about it,
Said when a doctor sawed a man apart, he al-
ways took the amputated member as one of
his perquisites; and he said that as it was his
legal right to take something on such occa-
sions, it was merely optional with him whether
he took the leg, or left the leg, and took the
rest of me, but he preferred the leg. And
when LIasked what he wanted with it, any-
way, he said he was going to put it in a glass
jar full of alcohol, and stand it in his office.
Then I told him that it shocked my modesty
to think of a bare leg of mine being put on
public exhibition in that manner, with ho pan-
taloon on, but he said he thought he could
stand it.

“But, you understand, I protested. I said
I’d had that leg for a good many-years, and I
felt sorter attached to it. I knew all its little
ways. I would feel lonely without it.
would tend to the corns that Ihad cared for
so long? Who would treat the bunion with
the proper degree of delicacy? Who would
rub the toes with liniment when they got
frosted? And who would keep the shin from
being kicked? Nobody could do-it«as well as.
I could, because I felt an interest in Me lee,

 

‘That
I want it

felt sociable and friendly, and acquainted

with it. But Barclay said he thought he could
attend to it, and it would do the corns good
to soak in the alcohol.

‘And I told him I’d heard that, even after
a man lost a limb, if anybody hurt that limb,
the original owner felt it, and I told Barclay
I wouldn’t trust him not to tread on my toes,
and stick pins in my calf, and make me suffer
like thunder every time he had a grudge
against me, and he said he didn’t know, maybe
he would, if I didn’t treat him right.

‘And I wanted to know what was to hinder
him, if he felt like it, taking the bone out of
the leg and making part of it up into knife
handles, and suspender buttons, and working
the rest up into some kind of a clarinet, with
finger-holes punched in the sides. I. vould
stand a good deal, I said, even if I had only
one leg, but I couldn’t bear to think of a man
going around the community serenading girls
with tunes played on one of my own bones—a

bone, too, that I felt a kind of affection for.

If he couldn’t touch a girl’s heart without
serenading her with one of Benjamin P.
Gunn’s bones, why, he had better remain sin-
gle. And so on. ) i
‘““We blathered away for about an hour, and
at last he said he was disgusted with so much
bosh about a ridiculous bit of meat and muscle,
and he wrapped the paper around the leg
again, and rushed out of the door for home.

‘“‘When I sued him, and when the case came
up in court, the judge instructed the jury that
the evidence that a leg belonged to a man
was that he had it, and as Barclay had this
leg, the presumption was that it washis, But
no man was ever known to have three legs,
and as Barclay thus had three, the second pre-
sumption was that it was not his. But as
Gunn did not have it, the law could not, there-
fore, accept the theory that it was Gunn’s
leg, and consequently the law couldn’t tell
who under the sun the leg did belong to, and
the jury would have to guess at it. So the
jury brought in a verdict against both of us,
and recommended that in the uncertainty that

| existed, the leg should be buried. The leg was

lying during the trial out in the vestibule of
the court-room, and. we found afterward, that
during the argument, Jim Woods’ dog had
run off with it, and that settled the thing.
Queer, wasn’t it?”’ ~
7 } —_—_——_>-0-o———————— ~

Fond Mother—‘‘And has mamma’s angel
child been a peacemaker to-day?’ Mamma’s
Angel Child—‘‘Yes’m; Tommy Tuff was
a-lickin’ Willie Whimpers, an’ when I told
*im to stop he wouldn’t, an’ I jumped in an’
licked the stuffin’ out o’ both of ’em,”?

o

Who

GOOD NEWS.

 

 

=

}you about this,

 

SHORT

EDITED BY

 

ARTHUR SEWALL«

MORE ABOUT PATIENCE.

SEVERAL years before the late war a
‘ new woolen mill was started in a New

>Y England town, on the plan which then
c~* was common—the issue of stock in
shares so small that anybody could buy one.
The shares were all takenin small quantities
by the people in the town, none of them rich.
One poor schoolma’am took five at a dol-
lar each; others were taken by shop: girls,
store clerks, and mechanics’ ‘apprentices.
Prices of all woolen goods went up as soon as
the war began; all the mills in the country
began to run long hours, and the stock in-
creased so rapidly in value, that three-quar-
ters of the holders began to sell, the profit was
so tempting. The schoolma’am bought all
shares that her slender purse would allow,
taking them in quantities so small as to be
beneath the notice of large investors. When
she had accutnulated about a hundred shares,
the local bank lent her much more on them
than they had cost her, and with the money
thus obtained she bought more. Before the
war ended she owned the entire mill, and
many of the people from whom she had
bought were working for her for wages, some
of whom are still at it, while she is worth a
quarter of a million. Her working people
were quite as smart as she, but they weren’t
as patient—that was the only difference.

A. few years ago a couple of honest, money-
saving printers, whom the writer has the
pleasure of knowing, attended an auction sale
of building lots, in the ‘‘annexed. district’? of
New York, hoping to seeure cheap ground on
which to build homes, when they should
marry, as each expected soon to do. It was a
rainy day, the sale had to be made, and each
printer secured eight lots at about the price
of so much first-class farming land. Every-
body told them they had made a lucky strike,
and they believed it next day when a profes-
sional dealer called on them and offered each
a hundred dollars for his bargain... One ac-
cepted the offer and put the money in the
savings bank. He is still an honest, saving
printer, but his family lives in a stuffy four-
room flat, in a poor part of the city. The
other held on to his lots, and, in spite of assess-
ments and taxes, he would be ten thousand
dollars ahead if he were to sell out to-day. He
had pienty of patience; his friend hadn’t,  _

Then, is a young man or woman to hold on
forever, in spite of anything and everything?
Certainly not. There comes a proper selling
time for everything; ‘‘the time to get out,” is
quite as important as ‘‘the time to get in,”
and ordinary sense can be trusted to inform
You already have been
warned against obstinately clinging to a _los-
ing property, business, or trade. It is here
that you must use your brains; they were
given you for such purposes, as well as others.

But is aman to go on accumulating, and
pinching, and holding on, with the risk of sud-
denly dying, and not getting any good of his
money, but having it go to his children, or
somebody else, to be squandered: Well, if
this is the size of your soul, you had better go
to church, or jump off the dock, If you’ve no
purpose in life but to enjoy yourself through
what money will buy, it doesn’t much matter
what becomes of you—intelligent heathens
will agree with Christians on that point. But
even pirates, and counterfeiters, and burglars
take pleasure in providing for their families’
future. eke

Then, isn’t a man to enjoy any of the fruits
of his own labor? Certainly. Isn’t he to
begin enjoying until he’s so old as not to have

uch capacity for enjoyment? My friend,

he brisk, wide-awake man of affairs gets
more true enjoyment out of his daily work,
than you do out of all your purchased pleas-
ures, and the parents of a family get a great
deal more pleasure out of anything money can
buy than their children do, Don’t you worry
about holding on to your property until you’re
too old to enjoy it; a miser may do it, but you
won’t. - Don’t ever be afraid of patience; or,
as a far better writer than yours truly once
remarked, ‘Let patience have her perfect
work.”’
Now for our letters.

—+-—-— ’

   

R. J. ¥., Colorado Springs, Col., writes: ‘I have
been offered a salary of twenty-five dollars per
week by a variety troupe to do specialty and play
small parts in comedy, with an engagement prom~
ised during tenting season witha circus ab, thirty
dollars per week. Shall | accept this position, or
enter an electrical shep as apprentice at five dol-

lars per week, with chances of advancement? Am |}
fifteen years of age, rather tall and in fair health,

What does an excellent electrician receive for his
services? At present I reside with parents and at-
tend high school.” ‘ 3

An offer of twenty-five dollars per week in
any line of work, is certainly very alluring to
a boy who is yet attending school, and we are
pleased to learn that you have not ‘‘jumped
at the chance,”’ regardless of the future.

Nine boys out of ten would accept that offer,
and many men would think them level-headed
for so’doing. But we say, everything con

 

 

‘make an honorable name for yourself,

sidered, perhaps it would be better in the end

to leave it alone.

In the first place, the variety and circus
business are very uncertain. Sometimes a
show ‘“‘busts up’’ before it is on the road a
month, salaries remain unpaid, and the per-
formers are left hundreds of miles from home
without a cent in their pockets. ;

Then again, even if the company prospers, ’

what sort of a position do you occupy? It is
all well enough to read stories of the stage, in
which the hero becomes an idol of the people,
to be petted and applauded, and makes a pile
of money; but, in truth, matters are vastly
different. Life on the stage is, at the best,
but an indifferent one, and a variety,actor, or
circus performer, cuts no figure socially.

Now, on the other hand, if you have it in
you to study hard to become a thorough
electrician, the future has every promise in
store for you. Applied electricity is yet in its
infancy, its possibilities are boundless, and as-
a first-class electrician, you. may not only
make a good deal of money, but you may also
Take
our advice, and give up the idea of going‘on
the stage. e

RANCH, New Haven, Conn., writes: ‘‘I am tired
of city life and want to try the West, I wish to go
in the cattle raising business. Can a boy of fifteen
make it pay? 1 have very little money.”

_ The best thing you can do, in our opinion,
is to remain where you are. ,

To begin with, a boy of fifteen doesn’t know
enough to take care of himself away from
home, and to end with, your cattle raising
scheme is nonsense. You may have heard or
read of some poor boy who went West with-
out a dollar, and in the course of a few years
became the owner of 10,000 cattle, and a ranch,
but there is no danger of any such thing hap-
pening to you. You would be likely to land
among strangers, who would have neither
care nor sympathy for you. If you ever suc-
ceeded in getting work on a cattle-ranch, your
pay would be small, the work enough to kill
an Indian, and the fare disgusting. The cat-
tle raising business requires thousands of dol-
lars asa starter, and ranchmen are quite as
apt to meet with loss as profit.

Go to work at some regular trade, and you
will be far better off.

M. Z., Kenosha, Wis., writes: “Iam17 years of
age, Weigh 130 pounds, stand 5 feet 7 inches high;
have worked 3 years in a printing office, and 4

in a general store, andam at present going to col- »

lege. I do not like clerking, but am stuck on the
printing business. Do you think the printing arta
good trade to follow? Where would be the best
place'to leatn well, and whereis the pay the big-
et it understand and speak the German language
well.’

The printing business, taken as a whole, is
just as good as any other manufacturing busi-
ness. People must have books, papers, cards,
billheads, circulars, and a hundred and one
other things printed, and for these they must
pay the price.

he only way to learn the typographical
art is to go into an office and start at the bot-
tom of the ladder. In offices of any size the
hards are divided into numerous branches of

the calling. There are job cOmpositors, who -

set advertisements and other display work;
straight compositors, who set ordinary read-
ing matter; makers-up, who place the type
into pages, etc.; pressmen, who adjust the
matter to be printed on the presses; and
feeders, who feed paper to be printed. Be-
sides these, there are also at times machine
compositors, who set type by machinery in-
stead of by hand; inkmen, who in large news-
paper plants attend only to the ink used; paper
stock nen, who see to it that the big presses
do-not run out of paper; and*half a score of
others.

As to pay, a boy argund an office usually
receives $3 per week, the first year, and ,this
amount is gradually raised to #4, or $5.
Regular compositors are paid from $12 to $20
per week, according to their speed, they gen-
erally working at a set price per thousand
ems or squares of type. Makers-up receive
from $18 to $20; pressmen from $18 to $25; and
feeders from $8 to $14 per week.

The fact that you speak German may help
you to a good situation in an office where both
English and German printing is done.

L. MeM. G., Hot Springs, Ark., writes: ‘‘I have
an idea of becoming a tinner, but my father wishes
mé to become a shoemaker, Whatean you say of
the trade? Could I do better in the East than in
the West?’

Years ago the tinner’s trade was considered
one of the best on the schedule, but since the
introduction of stamping machinery, and
many other improvements, the trade has lost
ground. er eprenticss must serve for three

rs, and the pay is about the same as with

@ shoemaker. The average wages of a jour-
neyman are not over $12 per week. While it
is all shop work, and no lost time on account
of the weather, dull times always affect sales
and wages.

We doubt if you could do a bit better in the
East than in the West. We understand that
tin shops here are overcrowded, se A
. Specian Notice.—Many communications,
improperly Serer to this department, are
answered in the ‘‘Mail Bag.”

 

DIDNT CROSS THE THRESHOLD.

The Good Man (sadly)—‘‘Ah, My son, you
have been to the circus, It pains me greatly
to think that one so young should have crossed
the threshold of iniquity,”

The Bad Small Boy—‘I didn’t cross a
threshold, 1 crawled in under the tent,”

mn

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-to haul our wind and

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- the order for them to assem

 

 

%.

CGooD NEWS.

;next moment Carli laid his manacied |
| hands on Dick’s shoulder.

~ — ‘ ED f | \ S] : A . | There was little time, however, for |
Chee £ oa \ Ae 3 :
eee OR

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

words to beexchanged. Dick explained |
; the situation to the black boy as brietiy |
jas he could.
ou ? i “And it’s just this,” he added, despair-
d 5 ‘ } ingly, “unless I can disable this vessel, |
DICK WILLARD’S STRANGE LUCK. |mpiteadttip of sosetier eee)
; ” This a bad ship—men lie to Carli. He

help you—Carli die for you.”
The earnest words of the young islander
| were. pleasant to hear, but Dick feared
there would be little that he and Carli
could do to prevent the impending attack

upon the Jennings,

The even tenor in which the routine of
the ship was carried on above his head
| was sufficient guarantee to Dick that
Captain Briscoe had not taken alarm and
attempted to escape from the Susan as

By CLARENCE CONVERSE,
Author of “Dick Oakley's Adventures,” ete., ete.

 

 

(“QAPTURED AT SEA” was commenced in No. 205. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

 

 

 

m ; her bowsprit, and O’Leary, with the sec-
CEAPTON tS ! ond gates a Spaniard—Detare by name—
‘busied some of the men hoisting four
oe : small but powerful brass cannon from tbe
ym APTAIN KELLY was standing by after hatch. [sev ‘The truth was that Mr. Harvey, the

the windward rail of the Black- These hequickly mounted forward near | Jennings’ mate, was so positive that the |
Eyed Susan. He suddenly Swung a like number* of gun-ports. They were;Susan was a vessel he knew quite well |

 

‘DICK IN IRONS.

 

 

“D* you know what craft that’ brigan- hidden by having some old topsails| rest there, though, indeed, against his |
tine is, Dan?” he asked, with a jerk-of thrown over them. And, to add to the!
his thumb toward the e

Jennings. =

‘To which question
Mr. O’ Leary, whose hot
work on shore had not
bettered his generally
acrid temperament, an-
swered that he didn’t,
and, furthermore,
didn’t care, so long as
she wasn’t the British
gun-voat Vista.

“Well,” continued

Captain Kelly, “she’s
the only craft the Su-
sie’s backed up against
in the five years we’ve
run her what could
show us a clean pair
of heels. I can read
her name whenever a
swell lifts her blazin’
trim counter clear—
‘Th’ Jennuin’s, Beacon
Cove,’—five men ‘fore
the mast. Mighty
short handed.”
. And this was in sub-
stance just what Cap-
tain Briscoe had said
to [Thomas Baker be-
fore the Jennings had
left Boston. :

But the financially-
prudent Mr. Baker
thought five bands an
ample number—even
though two were mere
boys.

Dan O’Leary bez#an
to take more interest
in the near-by brigan-
tine than he had before
evidenced.

“T'd like to put‘’a
shot into her afore we
sail away,” he growled,
with a side glance at
the handsome Jen-
nings, now about off
the beam of the brig.

Captain Kelly was
‘doing some very hard
thinking on his parb,

“Loos here, Dan,”
he said, dropping his
voice so that the man
at the wheel could not
catch his words, “don’t
it come to you that we
wouldn’t have much
trouble if we wanted .

better judgment.
% :

 

 

drop down on that neat
bit of a craft and bor-
row her—and do about
the way the men on

himself around facing Mr.O’ Leary. then carefully loaded and rather neatly that Captain Briscoe had let the matter |

 

Ssai

But what he did find, at last, and what
brought the thought of a new expedient
to his mind, was a small cask almost hid-
den by adamp piece of sail far back by
the after bulkhead.

Leaning over it to feel down behind it,
he had perceived a strong, oily smell;
and, jamming in the bung with the mar-
line-spike, he found that it was filled
with a poor quality of kerosene.

“Carli.” he exclaimed, with not a little
relief, “so far so good. If I ean find a
match now, we’ll burn this vessel from
under her rascally crew ; make a dash for
the deck, and be off in the port boat be-
fore they know what’s up.”

In many craft the hatch to the lazarette
lies directly under the cabin table, and
this was the position of the one inthe
Black-Eyed Susan. :

The general mode of fastening—if fas-
tenings are used—is to allow the two
beams of the hatch to extend some two
or more inches under the floor on one
side, with a bolt on the opposite and up-
per side of the hatch,

Feeling about along the edges of the
hatch and prying at it
with the marline-spike
and Carli’s knife, Dick
found that the one
above him was no ex-
ception to the ordinary
rule. And as he heard
no one in the cabin or
state-rooms, he forced
the bolt from its fast-
enings.

Then standing on a
bale of oakum, he
raised the hatch and
reconnoitered the situ-
ation, ;

The stand for arms,
which he had noticed
was full of old-pattern

 

but serviceable  fire-
arms when he was
hustled below, was
pow empty, and the

doors to two of the
small state-rooms were
open,

A glance into the
after state-room—evi-
dently the captain’s—
had shown Dick a
port, almost as large
as a small windew,.
cut through the
transom, as we so
times notice°in ve
old-style craft. It was
aruply large for him
and Carli to slip
through with some
little squeezing, and
‘just above it, within
easy reach, trailed the
painter of the towing
whale-boat.

It now occurred to
Carli what Dick
wanted. i

“You not need go

   
    

 

  
   

Aud from his primi--
tive -breach-cloth he
produced a small bag
made from the skin of
the pickery, which con-
tained flint and fin-
der,

Chipping away, he
soon hada bit of glow-
41 ing coal which would
‘only need a breath or
two to blow into a
blaze, eo

 

the Juno did with her
two year ago?”

And Captain Kelly
studied the face of his mate attentively deception, -
to see how the proposition affertted him.

“Set the cap’in an’ crew adrift in the
long-boat, take her down to Africky, an’ |
sell her to some one of the traders that ' feelings while these preparations were in
knows .moré than to ask questions? | progress, and every minute was bringing
We've gob men enough,” was Danjthe Black-Eyed Susan nearer the Jen.
O'Leary’s ready answer. nings. as
Pe: Suppose { put it afore the crew?” “Handenfft- him, and drop*the treacher-
_ O'Leary nodded his sandy bullet-head | ous young snake down into the lazarette,”

| was the command from O’Leary. ;

And to the no small surprise of the men! Dick fought desperately, and one Por-
forward, and of Dick ane them, came: tuguese went back against the bulwarks

ble aft. | With a jar of which the marvel was he did

The proposition to take the, Jennings not break a bone; but numbers shortly
leased them greatly, They were for giv- triumphed, and, panting and- breathless,
ng & rousing cheer, but Captain Kelly ; Dick was thrust rather than lowered into
checked it. eee w : | the vault-like darkness of the brig’s laza-

Dick, tor his part, was sworn at roundly -rette. Seen as
for objecting to the move. And his hint; “This is a pickle!” was his bitter ex-
that be knew the eae well, and that clamation, as he struggled to a sitting
she was fully armed, only caused a sig- posture on acask, “What good can I do.

DICK LOOKED BACK AT THE PURSUING BOAT. WOULD IT OVERTAKE THEM ?

Stitches, the sail-maker,
brought up his sewing bench and went to
work on a weakened seam, ;

I shall not attempt to describe Dick’s

“If I could only get these irons off, I
might find a tool of some kind and séut-
tle her,” said Dick, in a low tone, twist-
ing the manacles until they cut his wrist.

Well, it would hardly have been pos-
sible, under ordinary circumstances, for a
man of far gréater strength than Dick
possessed to haye broken the chain that
bound his wrists together. Fortunately
for him, in the hurry of snapping the
manacles on, or owing ‘to the sturdy re-
sistance Dick had made, the second mate
of the Susan had got-the ehain twisted.

This made the Hnks antagonize each
othet as Dick strained at them. Anda
sudden wrench parted the link next to
his right wrist. Cae

 

 

CHAPTER XV,
THE FATE OF THE BLACK-EYED SUSAN.

nificant glance and nod toward the after | now?”

 

 

: Sets _| GSyUT now that Dick was free, so to |
hatch to be exchanged between Captain “Ah! I know you come—you Carli’s speak, rummaging around the dark
Kelly and Mr, O'Leary, Efren’, “You-—? 8 interior of the brig’s lazarette

Dick understood the meaning of this a | x

~The words were uttered gladly, and| ‘©75 brought to light nothing like a
tool, though he came across a rusty mar- |
line-spike, and succeeded in releasing

Carli's wrists from their irons with it,

little jater, i _ | there was a noise farther forward in the
The Susan's course was changed until dark apartment. ‘Phe young Bahamian |
the Jennings was brought on a line with was picking his way toward Dick. The

 

 

 

       

the forward bulxhead, with a

come out—I'll cut the painter,”

“Now, where you
want fire?” Carli ace
‘in a whisper. oe es

Dick poured some of the contents of the
oil keg over a bale of oakum, which he
had broken apart with the spike. The
rest he let run over some matting and
jute that was piled waist-high against
quart or
two thrown about hap-hazard.

“See here; you craw] into the cabin ana
hold the hatch ready for me to come up
in a hurry, Carli,” Dick suggested, and it
was well that he did.

The moment he applied the blazing bit
of tinder to the bale of oil-soaked oakum
a flame leaped up that licked the beams
overhead. ae a. § Sea
_ Springing back, Dick drew himself into

the cabin, and he and Carli lowered the |

hatch back into place with all the speed
that was possible without alarming the
man at the wheel, | =
Then Dick led the way into Captain
Kelly’s state-room. ae “2
“They’ve all got their eyes on the Jen-
nings,” was his unspoken conclusion,

after looking out. through the open port. |

“Climb out and hold onto that chain,
Carli,” he whispered, pointing to the rud-
der chain. “Drop into the water when I

hunt—see, Carli make
fire,”-he said, pluck-

ing at Dick’s coat and

drawing him back,

“Carli never go live

this, e 5

‘

.

 
‘ slaves. “Carli defies you, dogs of the jun-

pression of triumph that was in strange

S382

ener IE Seta tesaini tanta ni

The unmistakable smell of smoke has- |
tened proceedings not a little.

“Now!”
A needle could have hardly sunk in the |
Susan's wake any more silently than did |
Carli’s dark body at the whispered sip- |
nail. And as he was left astern, Dick |
reached up, drew the manilla painter of
the whale-boat down, severed it with-his
companion’s knife, and slipped into the
sea.

The whole thing had been done so
neatly that it was only by a chance glance
aft that Dan O’Leary discovered the ab-
sence of the towing whale-boat, and by
that time the little craft had dropped
three or four cables’ lengths astern.

“They've escaped !” he yelled.

This called Captain Kelly’s attention to
the runaways.

“’dgive ‘em a shot—the young scamps | |

Our best boat, too! bless ’em! But it "ud
give us away with the blasted brigantine.
I’ll be keelhauled for a mackerel if
she don’t suspect somethin’s wrong
a’read -

Captain Kelly, in a frenzy of rage, had
reached under the rail, where one of the
rifles leaned handily.

Meanwhile Dick, with the tiller of the
trim double-ender in his grasp, watched
the Jennings breathlessly.

“There go the courses! and her head-
sails!” he exclaimed, suddenly. ;

For Captain Briscoe had taken alarm,
and was making sail with his own hands
to quicken matters. And as Dick watched,
every sail that the Jennings’ crew could
set was shaken out at a speed that told’
him there was a knife used here and there
instead of fingers. :

“+ Yet her light yards were not in place,

.nor had her small crew had time to finish
their work in the rigging: so it was evi-
dent that the Black-Eyed Susan could
overtake her before a long chase was
made,

However, the buccaneeringly-inclined
brig suddenly came circling up into the
wind. ‘

“De fire!” é

Carli cried this Saubvansly, Rolle’ out
over the water as he crouched by the foot
of the whale-boat’s mast.

And asmall wreath of smoke was in-
deed blowing away to leeward from the

reeling brig. .

Still, what Dick could not understand,

fe watched the Black-Eyed Susan ex-

, diy, and realized that the Jennings
= WO ld. now be able to escape her, was
- why Captain Kelly did not get his ship
out of irons and run before the_ breeze.
Then his men would be able to do what-
ever could pe done to extinguish the fire.

Instead of this, Dick and Carli could
-see the Susan’s crew lowering away her
other boat and tumbling into it down the
-falis, almost before it reached the water.
Then oar-blades thashed in the sunlight

and the boat, black with men in its load-
ed condition, pushed off from the sway-

ing brig ata pacbeienicine speed. Nor
could Dick see that any of the crew were

Susan to cope with the

¢ go for ship,” was
i conclusion. “What
we do? Carli not know where we are.”

Dick was not alittle puzzled. for, in-
stead of steering toward either the whale-
boat or the Jennings, the Susan’s long-
ahd headed directly off at right angles to
0 ae . :
But the solution of the maneuver was
not long in developing itself,

Suddenly the Black-Eyed Susan _ was
hidden from view in a great rolling,
swelling smoke cloud, above which frag-
ments of spars, beams, blocks, and rig-

ing shot up in every angle. Dick and
Carli felt a shock like a blow upon the
chest, and then, as the debris. fell to the}
water, a long, dull, rumbling report
reached their ears,

It was a strangely-stirring sight. The
smoke drifted away, and the hull of the
haughty brig was disclosed quickly
settling by the stern. Her mainmast was
broken short off above the deck. Maintop
hamper, sails in ribbons, studding sail
booms and royal poles hung from the
leaning foremast.

_ She gave a papers swerve to port, then
slowly settled back and disappeared for-
ever, Bec

The whale-boat was up in the wind,
- and her sail oe away. Captain
- Kelly’snext movement was to be watched
and looked out for, as the blowing up of

- the ship owned by a man like Tom Kelly
is not calculated to put her master on
-particulanly friendly terms with the per- |
son who applies the match.

. “See!” cried Carli. “They come—the
liars! the snakes of the swamp!” This
last in the peculiar rolling figurative lan-
guage of his race, and uttered haughtily,
asa monarch might address his lowliest

gle! Turn back! We escape! They no
get us,” he added to Dick, in the English
tongue, and his face bore a glowing ex-

GOOTbBD

But Dick could not feel so sure of their
escape. He looked back at the pursuing
boat. Would it overtake them?’ The
wind was dropping, and he knew that by
changing hands at the oars of the long-
boat often, Captain Kelly could send her
along at an undiminished speed that
would make it a question whether the
whale-boat could distance the captain or
not.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE “DOCTOR’S” STOWAWAY.

oor HANWHILE the Jennings was
JM! dipping and swaying along hand-

somely with the whale-boat and
“TSS long-boat at least a mile.and a
halt astern.

Captain Briscoe was not in ignorance
of the fact that he and his vessel had
come more than comfortably near being
taken by the brig whose two boats were
now the only signs that remained of her
existence, He looked unusually thought-
ae he affectionately regarded his only
child,

“Tt would have been next to madness
for us to have attempted resistance
si their superior force,” he reasoned,
“J sha’n’t let my longing to have Jess
near me tempt me into bringing her on
the next voyage.
the hand of God.”

“Impossible! Don’t bring such ghost
stories aft. I don’t want to——”

“But it’s 80, sir—Doc——” Turner, one
‘of the men was persisting in spite of Mr.
Harvey's ridicule; and Captain Briscoe
and Jessie turned toward the break of the

eck.

“There’s a stowaway in the cargo for’-
ard, sir. The Doctor just come on him,”
the sailor continued respectfully, when
he saw he had Captain Briscoe’s atten-
tion,

Pretty Jessie, Captain Briscoe, Mr.
Harvey, and Turner stepped down the
break of the Jennings’
went forward to the forehatch, where
most of the crew were congregated, aiid
from whose depths incoherent and wail-
ing protestations were issuing in a high
key to. tae Doctor’s demands to “Come ont
0’ dat, yo’ dare! Le’ go in dare, or 1 pull
dis yer laig off’en yo’. Kick? Don’ yo’
kick dis chil’ !” ;

And down in the cargo Big Bill, the
Jennings’ sable presider over the galley,
could be indistinctly seen tugging away
ata struggling something that just pro-
truded between two great dry-goods balesy
Nor could human endurance resist the
Doctor’s brawny arms long; and the grow-

ing distinctness of the cries of the un- |
willing prisoner showed that whoever he,

was Big Bill was eoneatly dragging him
loose from his hold. |

The voice sounded oddly familiar to
Jessie, too, as its owner cried, beseech-

“O-0-0-oh! M-m-m- mister Pirot!
d-d-d-don’t k-k kill me! I'll b-b-be your
s-3-slave! your c-c-cabin boy. K-k-kill
everybody, b-b-but d-d-don’t k-kill me!”

This ended in a long, despairing wail.
Then Big Bill went backward with a’
shock that nearly broke a box of goods,
his prisoner on top of him, But that in-
teresting individual was off the Doctor’s
great form in an instant and kneeling
tremblingly at Big Bill’s feet. .

“Algey Baker!”
shocked exclamation.

Her father’s comment was not so mild.

“The coward!”

“I—was only—I--I——”:

Bat try as he would, unfortunate Mr,
Baker could not conjure up any excuse
whatever for his presence in the cargo
forward; though he .afterward advanced
the assertion that he had gone there to
get his gun, on seeing that the Jennings
-was about to be attacked.

' But, to return to the occupants of the
light whale-boat of the Susan,

“They certainly are gaining.” thought
Dick, glancing back over his shoulder
toward the long-hoat.

Then he ducked his head involuntarily

az O’Leary sent a ball _Ssinging over the |

oat.
The long-boat had come within fair rifle
range for even the old pattern arm
O’Leary heid. It was only to the uncer-
tain movements of the two boats that the
futility of the shots could be credited.
The littlecraft was doing well consider-
ing the lightness of the air; but Dick felt
that nothing short of an increase in the
wind could prevent his and Carli’s cap-
ture, And of one thing he was certain—
that neither he nor Carli could hope for
any merey from Captain Kelly and_ his

cut-throat. crew. if they were overtaken.

He had the grit, even in that hour of ex-
treme personal peril. to never for a
moment regret the service he had done
His friends. >."

Yet what would be the outcome of the
chase was the all-absorbing thought that

 

— eontrast to the wan, hopeless look it had
worn on board the destroyed brig. .

7 ROR Roly

filled his mind.
= _ (10 BE CONTINUED.)
oe *, 5

ae
%

Our escape was as if by |

after deck and”

was Jessie Briscoe’s |

Cs

NEW sé.

{This Story will not be Published in Book-Form,]

STOLEN GOLD:

OR,

The Brightest Messenger Boy in Boston,

piece ities

By ARTHUR M. WINFIELD,
Author of * Missing Money,” ete.

[“STOLEN GOLD” was commenced
Back numbers can be obtained
Agents.)

in No, 198.
of all News

+ 6

CHAPTER XXX.
SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY.

Ulmer, excitedly, as the cry for help

rang out a third time upon the night air.

‘““Yes, and she is in dire need of help!’’
returned Billy, hurriedly.

“What shall we do?’’

“You are almost free—there, now you are
all right. -Untie my hands.”’

“Then you intend——”’

‘To do my best.”’

“But they took away the pistol, and-——’*

“Never mind, we must find clubs, or else
use our fists,”’ said Billy, cutting the young
man short. ‘‘That girl needs help, and I am
going to her assistance, if I die for 1t.”’

‘Bully for you, Keen! I am with you.”

By this time Ulmer had Billy’s hands re-
leased. Both now set to work to free their
feet, a task that took double the time it would
have taken had they been less excited.

“Now, are you ready?’ questioned Billy, as
he sprang to the back of the wagon, and pre-
pared to lift the thick canvas that shut out
the view beyond.

“Yes.”

Cautiously the canvas was raised, and the
brightest messenger boy in. Boston. peered
forth eagerly.

The camp-fire now burnt but dimly, By
the flickering rays only the indistinct outlines
| of a man and two women could be seen.

“It was neither of those women uttered
| those cries for help,’? whispered Billy, as he
| pointed to the bent forms of the females.
| “They belong to the band.”’
| ‘Perhaps the girl was carried off,’ sug-
gested, Ulmer.

Ce 7k ; : :
dhe was a girl’s voice!’ exclaimed Frank
eo

 

| “If that isso, why was she brought here?

Ah, T have it!”
“What?”

| “That girl was here, perhaps, in the other
| wagon. The gypsies got alarmed when they
| found us arounds and made up their minds to

remove her. That’s why they put us out of
the way-as. thought-—in.this, wago
Pe eeBy are Pre ileralnl ale Ts ,
| who could the girl have been?’’
| “T haven’t the least idea.”
. Well, come on. If the men carried her
off, they can’t have gone far yet.”

Cautiously the two descended to the ground,
and slid bekind the side of the wagon, and
then in the shelter of one of the tents.

From here they took in every detail of the
camp, 80 far as could be seen by the dim light
of the fast dying fire. ;

Not a trace of the men who had made them
prisoners, or of the girl who had cried for as-
sistance, could be seen. es

“Our ears didn’t deceive us, did they?’
questioned Ulmer, blankly.

“Not much!’ returned Billy. “I know a
girl’s voice when I hear it. She has been car-
ried off. But, nevertheless, the whole thing

is a mystery.”

“Vou are right.

one?”’ ‘ 2

“JT don’t know. Listen!’’ °

Both did so. Far off could be heard hoof-
strokes, but the directior®of the sound could
/ not be calculated with accuracy.

‘‘We will make that old man and the two
| women tell us,’’ said the messenger boy, with
/ sudden determination. re

 

| the elderly gypsy just as he was in the act of

| placing another couple of logs on the fire.
‘Where has your leader gone?’ he de-
manded.
| The old man started up, and then uttered a
| loud ery of dismay—a cry in which the two
old hags speedily joined.

““What—what you want?” he stammered.
‘“‘How—how did you get loose?’

“That isn’t to the point. Where is your
master?”

“He has gone away.”

‘Where to?”

“TJ don’t know.”

“Who was it just cried out for help?’

“Cried out for help?’

“That’s what I said.”

“No one cried out here.’’

“That is a lie—the second one you have told
me. Now, tell. the truth. Where is your
leader. Answer at once.”’ :

As Billy spoke, he grasped the old man by
the shoulder, and shock him roughly.

“Don’t—don’t hurt me, please mister, I have
done nothing!” — :

“Then answer my question.” ~ |

“Upon my heart, I know not where Gargia
has gone.”” _ 4 :

‘Nor his men???»

‘‘Nor his men.” poker ss

‘‘Who was it cried out for help?”

The old man hesitated, _-

 

 

2?
pat |

Where could they have | P®.

| Hestrode forwaxd, boldly, and confronted |

 

‘*T don’t——”’

“Step lying, I tell you. Do you want to be
roasted on the fire you are keeping up?”

“No, no, please don’t——”’

‘Then answer me,”’.

“Tt was a girl.”

Who?’

“I know not—indeed, sir, I know nothing!”

“Where did the girl come from?” ee

‘‘Hrom Boston.”’

‘“Who brought her?’

“A stranger.’

‘““What was his name?”

‘That I do not know.”

‘“What did he look like?”

As well as he seemed able to, the old gypsy
gave a description of theman. But neither
Billy nor Ulmer could place the fellow.

‘And your leader and the others have now
carried the girl off?”

“Yes. To—to restore her to her
went on the old man, lamely.

“Quite likely,”’ muttered Ulmer.

“Oh, it is so.”

‘Well, what’s to do now?” questioned the
young man, turning to the messenger boy.

“Tell us the exact direction Gargia took,”
said Billy. ‘Mind, now, no mistakes, or it
will fare badly with you.” ;

The old man pointed out the road. While
he was doing this, Billy heard a rustle behind
him, and wheeled about.

The two women had disappeared.

“They have gone to warn the others!” ex-.
claimed the brightest messenger boy in Bos-
ton. ‘Quick, Ulmer, there isto time to lose!’

Leaving the old man by the fire, the two
headed after the two women.

The darkness of night had now fallen over
the woods, and neither could see a foot ahead.

“T can hear the women just ahead of us,”
whispered Billy, as he proceeded at a slower

ait, and held Ulmer back. ‘Not so fast.

Ve will keep just behind them until we find
out the right course to pursue.”’

On and on they went, Billy slightly in ad-
vance. At every step the woods seemed to
grow denser.

‘‘Perhaps they are trying to lead usastray,”
said Ulmer, as he stumbled along. ‘I'll be
hanged if I can guess where we are.”

“We are not far from Dilling’s Pond,” said
Billy. “ve been out here, but it was years
ago.’

He had hardly spoken, when his companion
gave a groan and sank down on a rock,

‘“What’s the matter?”

“ve sprained my ankle.
hurts!’ » :

“That’s too bad. I suppose you can’t walk
on it?” ;

‘Let me see.’”? Ulmer arose and tried to
take a step. Then dropped down again.
_ “fT couldn’t do it fora thousand dollars.
like so many needles in my foot.”

. ‘Shall I stay with you or go on alone?”
*Well—I—I——__ Do as you think best.”’
“I. think I saw some water just ahead. -

Wait, and I will bring you some to bathe the

ankle with.”

Billy pushed on through the bushes, and at
last came toalarge pool of water. To be
sure, it was not over clear, but for bathing
purposes would do very well.

Taking the stiff hat he wore, he bent over
and filled it.

He was about to rise, when the bushes be-
hind him parted, and the two old gypsy hags
stole forward.
One carried a stick in her hand. This she
raised, and then dealt the messenger boy a
dastardly blow in the neck.

It staggered him. He tried to recover, but
the second woman sprang forward and give
him a shove that sent him head first into the

home,”’

Phew! how it

It’s

ol.

“That will hinder him from following
Gargia,”’ she hissed. ‘Now, Grista, for the
other one!”

meeetntnmalcn

CHAPTER XXXI,
"BILLY STILL TO THE FRONT.

“HE two gypsy women were bent upon

a dastardly plan, as could be seen from

& the look of extreme cruelty upon their
7° faces.

No doubt they held human life cheaply, for
neither showed any sign of compunction for
what had already been done.

The one with the stickin her hand advanced
first, closely followed by her companion.

It. was now pitch dark in the woods, and

| this made the search for Ulmer rather a pro-

lenge one. ih

‘““Where the dickens he, anyway?’ growled

the older of the women, savagely. ‘He can’t

be fait seas A
Luekily the pain in the young man’s ankle

had caused him to faint. d it been other-

wise, he would, no doubt, have called out to

» , learn what it was that detained Billy.

As it was, he lay back on the rocks, his eyes’
closed, and his form motionless, :
Presently, after filly a quarter of an hour’s.
search, the two hags stumbled upon him. -

_ “He sleeping!” whispered one,
~ “No! no! he is in pain,” replied the other.
“See him draw his foot now! te has hurt it.”
“What we do?’ — 1 RS

“T will show you, Grista.’’

“You kill him, Meta?’

‘Wait and see.” Pie

‘Perhaps he have much money in pocket.”

“So I ink,”’ .

‘We divide money if you kill?”

“J will give you a quarter.”

 
     

 

     
 
    
    

    
  
   
      
  
   
    
   
 
   
   
   
   
   
  
 
   
   
 

 

    
 

" Gargia and the others took that

eo:

I take you back to Boston

“Billy

     
 

Cilia Eu

‘Why not half?’

“Tf you will help kill, you shall have half.
Iwill not do all the work alone.”’

“T help. See, I have my knife.”

As Grista spoke, she drew a wicked-looking
knife from the folds of her dirty dress,

“Good! I know you have a stout heart
when there is money to be had.”’

The two women advanced to Frank Ulmer’s
side.
As‘they did so, the young man gave a low
moan and opened his eyes.

‘‘Hush! he is cofning to!’ whispered Grista.

The next moment Ulmer sat up and stared
about him.

‘Where are you, Billy?’ he groaned.

Then he caught sight of. the two gypsy
women.

‘“Who—what do you want here?’ he de-
manded.

“We fix you!’’ hissed Meta.
for following Gargia!’’

‘What, would you murder me?’ cried the
young man, with a shiver, for he had caught
a faint gleam of the wicked-looking knife in
the woman’s bony hand,

‘*You see,”

Meta advanced, and there was no mistaking
her foul desgins. :

She meant to kill, beyond a doubt.

“Help! help! shrieked the young man.
“Billy, help me!?’

“Shut up you mouth!” put in Grista.
“Quick, Meta, before he calls once more,”’

Meta bent forward, the knife upraised in
her hand. Another moment, and the bloody
deed would have been accomplished.

But now a crashing was heard in the bushes,
and a second after a light form, dripping with
water, sprang into the opening.

“Not so fast!’ sang out the voice of the
brightest messenger boy in Boston.

And Billy Keen dashed between Ulmer and
the gypsy women.

Then followed a brief scuffle. The knife
was torn from Meta’s hand, and the old hag
fell upon her face, while Grista took to her
heels and disappeared.

“No kill me! No kill me!’ shrieked Meta,
who fancied her last hour had come,

“Get up!’’ ordered Billy, sternly.

“No iil! me! Please no kill!” —

“Did you hear what I said? Get up!”’

Slowly the old hag crawled to her feet.
She looked almost scared out of her wits, and
kept wringing her hands constantly... »

“No kill me. No kill——”’

“Shut up, do you hear?’’

“Allright, mister, but no kill——”

“T will kill you if you don’t shut your jaw!”
stormed Billy, greatly provoked.

This silenced the old hag at once, and then
the messenger boy turned to Frank Ulmer.

‘How is your foot?” he asked.

“Very bad, in fact, I believe I fainted from
the pain.”’

“And they came on you while you were un-

 

“We fix you

“ geonscious?’’

“T suppose they did.’

‘*Aumph!”?

“Have you got the water? Why, I
you are dripping wet!’ .

“Ves, they stole up behind me, and knocked
me into the pool.
they had done me up brown,”

“Are you badly hurt?”’

‘No, although my neck is rather stiff.”

Billy squeezed some of the water from his
clothing onto Ulmer’s sprained ankle, and this.
made the member feel much relieved.

“But: I can’t walk on it,” said the young
man, ruefully i

Billy was in perplexity, but presently his
face. brightened. Gee.

“We will carry you,’’ he said.

He spoke to the gypsy woman. At first she
demurred, but he made her join hands with
him, and between them they raised Ulmer up,
and began their journey... ees
The distance to the edge of the woods was
not far. When they reached it, Billy saw the
light froma house but a couple of hundred
feet away.

To this place they carried Frank Ulmer,
The people living in the house were aroused,
and Frank was carried inside and placed on a
lounge.

The young man offered to pay liberally for
all accommodations, and this had the effeet of
setting the man of the house off in great haste
for a doctor. ;

‘‘Now I will leave you,’’ said Billy, when
he had dried his clothing. ‘‘T must follow the
trail while it is hot.’ ;

“Good luck to you,’’ said Ulmer. ‘Be care-
ful, and don’t fall into the gypsies’ hands
again, or they will kill you.”

“T won’t give them the chance,’

declare,

’ returned

the messenger boy, eo “111 shoot first.’?
All this while the old gypsy woman had

been sitting in the corner of the room. Her

hands were bound behind her, and Billy had

watched her to see that she did not escape.
He now turned to her. pig
“Tisten to me,’’ he said, sternly,

« “‘No kill, please!’ _

~ “1 want you to take me to the
girl.”

“Me take

(Vag)? :

“AT don’t know——”’

“You do, Come, will you take me, or shall

with me.’’

“No, no. No Boston, please, mister !”’

‘Then will you take me to Gargia?”

“Tet ofd woman go if do?” =¥

y hesitated. He cared very little about

having the old hag arrested.

you?”

et A LS i A a i RAT aE AA ltl ln

I reckon they had an idea

of paper.

place where | )

_ |eyes closed. Turn the glass slightly for-
| will be seen; continue to bend forward,
‘and you will see a second forehead, and!
eventually two heads,

repeatedly ina strong alum solution, and

CpOOtD

“Ves,’’ he said, finally.

“All right, come along.”’

The old. woman. led the way out of the
house, and along the road. Billy knew that
they were still going away from the city.

‘‘Hlow far is it?’ he asked.

**A bout two miles,”’ :

“Were Gargia and the others on _horse-
back?”’

‘No, they had wagon.”

‘‘T see. And who was the young lady?’

**T don’t know, mister.”

“You are dead sure of that?’’

“Yes.”?”

“What did Gargia intend to do with her?”

‘‘He steal her for another man.”’

“Stole her for another man!’

Ves.”

‘(What other man?”

“One of the men that come to the camp,
mister.”

‘‘Hogan or Nason!’ ejaculated Billy to him-
self. ‘‘This is, indewl, a mystery.

‘‘T suppose the man was going to pay Gargia
well for his work?”

“Gargia get a hundred dollar, others git
fifty dollar each.”’

“Humph! And is the girl to be turned over
to the man at the place to which we are
going?”’

“‘T think so, but not sure.”’

Billy was silent. He wished he had half a
dozen policemen with him. It would be no
easy matter to rescue the girl single-handed.

“But Pll have to do the best I can,”’ he
thought. ‘‘Thereis notimefor delay, Every
moment is of value.”

On and on the two hurried until they came
in sight of a big stone house which set some-
what in a hollow.

‘There it is,’’ said the old hag, pointing with
her finger.

“And you are sure I will find Gargia and
‘the girl there?”’

- “Tf they not gone already.’’

“Very well. Now come here.”’

“What you want?” ~

“T am going to make sure that you have
told me the truth before I let you go. Hold
out your hands again.”” :

“But you can go and see

“Tam no fool. Hold out your hands!”

The old hag did so. Once more she was
securely bound, her hands behind her. Then
Billy made her walk to a fence, and hesecured
her to a post.

“Tf you have told the truth I will come and
release you,”’ he said, as he left her.

There was a light burning in the kitchen of
the big stone house, and hither the messenger
boy made his way.

Mounting the back piazza on tiptoes, he
peered into one of the windows.

The kitchen was unfurnished, saving for an
old. table and a couple of worn out chairs. A
bit of ‘a eandle, stuck on the lid of a cigar
box, set on the mantel-shelf.
2s “tmoecupied,” thought Billy. ‘And no
one in the room, either. Perhaps Gargia and
the others have made the transfer and left.’

Billy hesitated for a moment, and then
walking to the door, tried it.

The door was unlocked, and a second later
the brightest messenger boy in’ Boston stood
in the dimly lighted kitchen.

As he crossed the floor, a bit of writing
paper, lying on the table, caught his eye.

Almost unconsciously he picked up the bit

7

 

‘‘Probably some scrap they figured on,” he
murmured to himself. “I wonder if it will
furnish any clew?”’

There was some faint lead pencil writing on
the paper, and he moved over to the candle-
light to read it.

For a moment he stood still reading, and
then he gave a mighty start. i _
--And small wonder, for the scrap of paper
read as follows:

“fam in the hands ofa gypsy named Gargia
and Hogan and Nagon. Lhey are going to
take we to an old will a mile from here. irs
Wet yp CORA BITT.”’

_~ @° (TO BE CONTINUED.)

———_s-0-e
AMUSING LITTLE EXPERIMENTS,

”
%

 

The Swimming Needle.—Fill a glass
with wacer. With dry fingers lay a dry
needle carefully on the surface of the
water. The needle will not sink, but re~
volve on the surface of the water, and
finally come to rest pointing north and
south. :

To See Salad Grow.—Take good, rich
soil two parta and one part of slacked
lime and mix well. Sow salad seed,
which has been weil soaked in alcohol,
into the mixture. As soon as the soil has
been well moistened, the salad plant
will appear...

To See Double.—Place one mirror per-

The face will appear upside down, with

ward, four eyes will appear; bend the
glass still farther forward, and two noses |

Fireproof Paper.—Soak a sheet of paper

em

pendicularly on another and look into it. |

NEWS.

AN INDIAN WOMAN’S REVENGE

A. MISIONERY.

 

BY If.

 

  

NE day, toward the’ end of the
p month of July, while the Black-
feet were at war with the Crow
tribes, and each was watching te
surprise the other, fifty of the latter were
scattered over the prairie gathering wild
berries. Not suspecting the presence of
their enemies. in the neighborhood, they
had dispersed themseives here and there
without any anxiety in the places where
the fruit most abounded.

They had been occupied about an hour
at this work, when suddenly a troop of
armed horsemen appeared in the dis-
tance. The Crows were not long in ascer-
taining that they were Blackfeet coming
to surprise and massacre them.

There was not a moment to lose, They
left everything on the prairie which
would impede their flight--fruit-jars and
all were left for the enemy—they thought
only of saving their lives.

A young chief of this tribe, who had
been married but a few months, had
brought his wife with him. At the first
cry of alarm he took her up in his arms
and placed her on horseback behind him.
In the general scare each one took his
own course to escape from the enemy.

After going some miles, the young
chief’s horse, tired with the weight of his
double burden, began to slacken his pace.
His rider did his best to urge him on, but
in spite of his efforts, he realized that the
Blackfeet were perceptibly gaining on
him. Hie saw that he must fall into their
hands if he tried to save his wife. What
then was he todo? Should he abandon
her on the prairie to become the prey of
his enemies, or fall with her rather than
basely leave her to her fate?

Meanwhile the Blackfeet were coming.

“IT am going to place you on the
ground,” said he to his wife. “I am
aware that you will be made a prisoner,
but they will not xitl you; it would be
otherwise with me. You know the sort
of death awaiting me if they seize me.
Alone with my horse, I have a hetter
chance to escape and reach my camp.
Once restored to my own people, I will
raise a party of warriors, and we will go
forth to rescue Phin from the camp of the
Blackfeet. In four or five days you shall
be set free,” :

Saying this, he removed his wife from
the horse and put her down on the grass.
_ Tne horse, relieved of half his burden,
‘resumed his course more swiftly, and the
young. Crow found himself beyond the
lreach “Of His enemies. Meanwhile his
wife, captured hy a Blackfoot, was con-
ducted intothe enemy’s camp, to be given
as a present to the chief of the tribe.

Toward three o’clock in the afternoon
all who had.escaped from the Blackfeet
arrived in the Crow camp and _ related
how they had avoided their murderous
tomahawk and arrow,

_ The young chief in particular, who had
miy deserted his wife because he was
certain that they would not kill her, and
that he could deliver her, endeavored by
his recital to gain their sympathy, and
urged his friends to join him in wreaking
vengeance upon those who had attacked
them so treacherously. os
immediately thirty young warriors,
who burned with a desire todisplay their
bravery by doing a deed worthy of praise
from the old men of the tribe, passed
around him. The war-whoop resounded,
and that very evening the avengers went
in pursuit of the Blackfeet under cover of
the night. They encamped on the banks
of the Souris River. It was there, at day-
break, the Crow chief and_ his followers
discovered them. At some distance from
the camp there was a-densely-wooded
thicket, where thirty men could easily
hide themselves. They directed their
course toward this place, and there held
counsel. =

The chief decided that his companions
should wait in this coppice while he
went to the bank of the river hard by the
camp of the Blackfeet, where he hoped,
in the dim light of the dawn, to discover
some trace of his wife. On. the bank of
the river he laid down behind a bush and
waited till the women came in the morn-
ing with their kettles to draw water. He
hoped to see his wife go down to the

portunity to release her and return to his’
warriors before the day commenced, sre

He had been in this place for some
minutes when he perceived the women
going down to the river, Unseen, he
scanned those who passed by, hoping to
discover his own. He was beginning to
despair, when he saw one coming alone
at some distance from the others, That
one was his wife. He let her pass and go |
as far.as the river, so as_to make certain
that he did not deceive himself. As she
returned, he left his hiding-place and
stood before her, Great was the surprise

 

dry it every time it is taken out. If the

 

paper thus prepared is laid in tire it willl
not burn. pei ee

ty

e.

of this woman at the sight of her hus-
band. He did not give her any time to.
question him, ae :

river with the others, and to have an op- |

S323

 

,

“Your parents,” said he to her, “are
here with me, at a little distance on the
prairie. I have only just left them in
order to come and rescue you from your
enemies, Let us save ourselves before
the camp awakes and i1ejoin our own
people.” °

“No,” she replied, “I will not set out
now. I must steal something from those
who made me a piisoner. Return to your
watriors, and when night time has ar-
rived [ will escape from the Blackteet’s
|} camp and rejoin you.”

In spite of the chief’s entreaties, she
would not consent to follow then,

He thereupon hastened away to await,
with his own people, the time when his
wife would leave the camp,

The plan of this woman‘was_ not to re-
join her husband. She regarded his deser-
ion of her as an insult, and she had
sworn to be avenged should the opportun-
ity offer. On perceiving her husband in
the morning, she had disguised her
hatred, and the delay which she asked
was simply a pretext to give her time to
pastors the means of vengeance against

im.

“She jeft the river with her kettle filled
with water, and thoughtfully bent ‘her
course toward the lodge of the chief of
| the Blackfeet.

As soon as she had deposited her vessel
she covered her head with her blanket,
and assuming a mysterious air, she sat
down aside, as if greatly preoccupied
with some extraordinary secret. ‘To the
questions of those who passed by her she
gave no reply, and preserved absolate
silence.

The chief, believing that she was ill or
lamented her captivity, wished to console
her, and inquired the cause of her sad-
ness.

“J had a curious dream last night,” said
she. “I saw my spirit, and it revealed to
mea great thing. You shall sce if it has
deceived me. Some miles from this camp,
in the thicket which ycu see yonder,
there are thirty warriors of the Crow’s
tribe, who have been hiding since yester-
day. The are waiting for favorable oppor-
tunity to surprise and massacre us, :

“Go and take them by surprise, m suffi-
cient numbers, so that none of them es-
cape.
to surround the wood on all sides.
all these warriors except their chief,
whom you will bring to the camp, as I
have something to say to him.” ke

Indians, it is known, have unlimited
faith in dreams; they are revelations to —
them.
the camp astir. Sane :

In no time all the warriors were assem-
bled around their chief, — see

Meantime the woman’s parents and
friends were waiting impatiently, but
without anxiety. os

The Blackfeet glided

ct

 

along, like snakes”

     
   
 
 
     
     

in the grass, and soon surrounded the
oe where the on were hidden. At
é given signal they were to juinpu
and run in the direction of the ood
while uttering their war- e
At the first cry uttered by the Blackfoot
chief, a circle of men to start u
out of the ground, and. impossible
for the Crows to leave théi ‘ing-place.
They perceived that they were betrayed,

and that nothing more remained for them
than to sell their lives dearly. They made
heroic efforts to open a path through the
ranks of their enemies, but the Blackfeet,
six times more numerous, killed them
all, with the exception of the chief,
whom they succeeded in taking alive, as
his wife had directed. Him they tied to
a post to await whatever torture the
council decided to inflict upon him che
following day. < :
His wife, to insult him in his misfor- ©
tune, sat down in front of him. -
Although it was the custom of Indians
to suffer stoically and preserve silence
when condemned to death, this one could
not resist reproaching his wife for her
base treachery.
“What!” said he, “do you still dare to
look at me, monster in human shape,
when you have just caused all your fam-
ily to be massacred? Your brothers and
mine haye exposed their lives to come
and deliver you from captivity, and’ you
have treacherously betrayed them. You —
shall not long enjoy your vengeance. The
Great Spirit shall cause to fall on you the
punishment your crime merits,” Bae
The chief of the Blackfeet, not under- —
standing the language of the Crows,
asked the woman what the prisoner was
saying to her. ee
He demands that you. cause him to
suffer a gé@od deal, in order to put his —
courage to the proof before all yourcamp, -
and for that purpose he wishes you to
pour boiling water overhis head.” =
The Blackfoot was somewhat astonished |
at such a request; however, he hastened
to carry out the supposed desire vf the
prisoner, believing that this boasting was

 

 

 

ctim. : a Poa athe 5 a San i
“He is satisfied,” the prisoner’s wife

=

In order to accomplish this hasten _
Kill

  

 

Nothing more was wanted to set

done with the design of insulting him, so ue
rhe took a kettle of boiling water and |
eau it slowly on to the head of his ©
Vi ,

     
 
S324

GroQodD

NEWS.

 

said to the Blackfoot; “continue to water
him; he says that you do him good.”

When she thought the scalding which
he had received would inevitably cause
death, she said to the chief of the Black-
feet:

“Now he desires that you leave him
tied to this post to die of hunger,”

“As he wishes it,” replied the chief.
“We are going to move the camp for fear

that your people may come to search for |
have massacred, so we |

those whom we
will leave the prisoner 2t his post to die
of hunger, according to his desire.”

At the same time he ordered his tribe
to go on the march.

There was an old woman in the camp of
the Blackfeet that was rejected by the
others. She had a small lodge all to her-
self, and when the others stopped at any
place, she pitched her tent at some dis-
tance from the camp. She took pity on
the prisoner, and when she saw the camp
set out, she herself folded up her little
tent of hide and went forth slowly behind
the rest. As they did not appear to
trouble themselves about her, she _ re-
traced her steps. Without being observed
by any of her people, she cut the bands
which bound the prisoner to the post,
She also gave him a knife, a little food,

and a piece uf linen to cover his head. |

So soon as the prisoner saw himself free,
he set ont, notwithstanding his scalding
burns, to regain the dwellings of his own
people. Weakened by suffering, it

Crows, where they were anxiously await-
ing the return of their warriors.

To make a deep impression on his peo-
ple, he did not enter their camp immedi-

ately, but remained at some distance, ut- |

‘tering groans. Then seating himself on
the ground, he tearfully related the sad
fate of his warriors, brought about by the
infamous treachery of his wife.

At this news acry of rage escaped the
Crows, and the entire tribe swore to take
signal vengeance on the woman who had
thus betrayed them,

Early the following day all the men
among the Crows capable of fighting were
en route to overtake the Blackfeet.

The latter had prudently pitched camp
three days’ distance from where they had
left their prisoner, so it was only after a

them, They halted at a_ sufficient dis-
tance not to be discovered by their ene-
mies, and concealed themselves in a large
drv ravine.

The Crow chief warned his people to do
their best to preserve the Jife of the old
Indian woman who had talen pity on
him. In regard to his wife, they were
ordered to take her alive if it were possi-
ble.

Before going to the assault, one of the
chiefs of the expedition desired to visit
the camp in order to discover these two
personages.

At ten o’clock at night, when the fires
were burniny low and the men had gone
into their lodges for the night, he envel-
oped himself in a blanket and_ boldly
entered the camp of the Blackfeet. He
had no difficulty in recognizing the
chiet’s lodge. It was there that he dis-
covered her whom he was ordered to take
alive. He soon found also the lodge of the
good old woman at the extremity of the
camp. She was seated before-a little fire,
wrapped in her blanket. He approached
her and said;

“LT take pity on you, you who have had
conmmiiseration on one of our people. You
saved him; well, I intend likewise to
save you. In some minutes all my people
will be here to massacre this camp. None
can escape, for we are too numerous. If
you desire-to avoid death follow me and I
will place you in safety. Come quickly,
for my warriors are advancing,”

The old Indian woman did not need him
to repeat the invitation. :

The Orow chief assisted her to carry
away her little lodge as far as the ravine.

As soon as she was sheltered from dan-
ger the Crow chief gave the signal for the
attack. The Blackfeet, buried in sleep,
had not time to seize any arms to defend
themselves. The Crows, relying upon
their numbers, had dispersed themselves
in all parts of the camp, so as to fall
upon’ each lodge simultaneously. The
combat was short but the massacre gen-
eral, Not one of the Blackfeet saved his
life. The woman alone, who had betrayed
the Crows, fell into their hands alive.

Now it was their turn for vengeance.
This was what the chief decided,

“Collect,” said he, “all the poles of the
lodyes to make a wood pile; tie the hands
and feet of this traitress and burn her!”

The order was carried out. They burned
her in the presence of the warriors, re-

yroaching her the while for her treachery.
Phen, having had their revenge, the
Crows returned to their camp. —

——

One million and a half men work in the coal
mines of, the world, Of these England has
535,000; ‘United States, 300,000; Germany,
285,000; Belgium, 100,000; Russia, 44,000. The

|HOW WATTLES WAS TESTED.

ek ren

BY WM. MURRAY GRAYDON,

&

ATTLES and the new teacher made
their first appearance at Locustdale
school-house at the same time, and

interest to the groups of boys and girls who
had come together that frosty September
morning to begin their winter course of study.

Wesoon knew as much of both as it was pos-
sible for keen-witted boys to learn on compara-
tively short acquaintance.

Seaforth, the new teacher, was a carefully
dressed, pedantic looking young man, who

| wore gold eye-glasses, anil spoke with a studied

accent. We boys promptly christened him
‘The Dude,”’ but the name did not stick long.
He was a college graduate, in fact, and
though his appearance was far from indicat-

| ing strength, 1t was soon evident that his col- |
| legiate training had been muscular as well as |
| mental.

He proved this on the very first day,
by quelling several incipient outbreaks in a
summary manner, and throwing the biggest
boy in school out of doors after whipping him
soundly.

 

| among us.

“T want to be friends with. you all,”’ he said,
‘but if you refuse to stand on that footing,
you will find me a pretty tough enemy. I
have contracted to rule this school, and [ in-

~*.* | tend to do it.’’
took |

him three days to reach the camp of the |

This was plain speaking, and more through

his magnetic charm of manner, than from any |

fear of him, the majority of the scholars were
soon won over.

But half adozen of the elder boys, myself
included, persistently rejected his proferred
advances. The spirit of mutiny was ripe
For several years past it had been
our custom and boast to regard the teacher at
Locustdale school-house as our sworn enemy,
and we foolishly imagined that it would lower
our dignity to knuckle under in this case. So
we izaintained a sullen attitude toward him,
and never lost an opportunity of annoying him
in such little ways as would not bring us to
grief or punishment.

Wattles was~the stanchest friend that Mr.
Seaforth had in theschool. Christopher Wat-
tles was his full name, but we preferred Wat-
tlesto Chris or Christopher. And then, some-

2 | how or other, it seemed to fithim exactly. He
six days’ march that the Crows reached |

was a tall, awkward, lanky fellow, with an
innocent face, and light blue eyes.
slovenly in his dress, and allowed his hair to
grow for months before having it cut. His
father had bought'a farm, and moved into the
neighborhood from.a distant part of the State.

Looking back onit now, I don’t wonder that
Mr. Seaforth took a fancy to this odd pupil.
Wattles was a great fellow for hobbies. He
collected everything that the neighborhood
could afford—plants, woods, geological speci-
mens, Indian relics, bugs, and reptiles,

Mr. Seaforth was himself somewhat of a
botanist and geologist, and the two frequently
spent a Saturday in strolling over the coun-
try, collecting specimens. In school Wattles
was idle and inattentive, and atoned for many
a poor lesson by remaining after hours. This
in no wise lessened his liking for the teacher.

Of course, we boys had a wholesome con-
tempt for Wattles, and regarded his queer
pursuits as evidence of childishness and a
weak mind. As he never took part in sports
of any kind, he soon became an object of ridi-
cule to almost the entire school. We called
him baby, milksop, coward, and various other
stinging names. His temper -remained un-
ruffled, however, and as often as we’ tried to
force him to fight, he found some sneaking
way to back out.

“Pm not afraid to fight,” he frequently
said, ‘‘but I don’t see anything to fight about,
and I won’t doit. Just you fellows let me
alone. That’s all [ ask.”

I don’t think he was ever actually struck.
There was an indéfinable something about him
that warned us not to test his patience too far.

The weeks wore on, and about the begin-
ning of November, our long fostered grudge
against the schoolmaster took definite shape.
We visited the school-house at daybreak one
morning, with the intention of nailing the
doors and windows shut from the inside, and
then lowering ourselves to the ground through
aloft window, But wehad barely commenced
operations when Mr, Seaforth rose from be-
hind a bench. He had a long rane in his
hand, and he used it to such good effect that
not one of us escaped from the building with-
out several stinging blows to remember the
occasion by.

Through whose agency the schoolmaster
had learned of our intentions was at first a
poate mystery, and we were inclined to

lame one another, It finally transpired that
Wattles had been lurking in the vicinity on
the afternoon that we laid our plans after
school hours. ©

“He passed us twice, and went into the
wood-shed,’’ said Lem Stanmore. “T never
thought of speaking about it, because I didn’t
believe he could hear what we were saying.”’

“Wattles is too sharp for that,” exclaimed
Tyson Blair. €
told Seaforth, depend upon it.”

‘Well, we’ll pay him back for his tattling,”’
murmured several of the boys, and this we
}unanimously agreed to do, at the first oppor-
tunity. Ourrecent experience had warned us

 

that it would be safer to wreak our vengeance

world’s miner's of metals number 4,000,000. jon Wattles than on the schoolmaster, The

<

i

they proved objects of considerable |

 

|into my room window at one o’clock in the

He was |

‘it to-night, and we will never havea better

“He heard every word, and

 

latter was evidently clever .enough to outwit
us at every move.

if Wattles was the betrayer—which none of
us doubted—he never acknowledged it by
word or sign, even when broad hints were
thrown at him. But we only regarded this
as deeper evidence of his shrewdness. Mr.
Seaforth made not the slightest reference to
the matter, but it leaked out in some way, and
we were compelled to endure a great deal of
ridicule from our schoolmates. We blamed
Wattles for this also, and our longing to
square accounts with him grew stronger.

In the first week of November Lem Stan-
more’s cousin came to visit him. Horace
Glenn was about our own age, and though his
city breeding had given him a stiick-up, super-
cilious appearance, we soon found that he was
a good fellow at heart. Iam inclined to think
that he was a dangerous companion for us at
that time, and had he remained longer in the
neighborhood he might have done us: lasting
harm. As it was, he taught us a good many
things which we had better never known. It
transpired afterward that he had been ex-
pelled from boarding school, and that his
father had banished him to the country in
order to get him away from the evil influences
of city life, and to teach hima lesson. It is
doubtful if he regarded this as a punishment,
for he entered with hearty enjoyment into
everything that was going on.

After supper, one clear frosty evening, I
went over to see Lem and Horace. Presently
Tyson Blair dropped in, and we had a pleasant
chat up in Lem’s room. Horace entertained
us with doubtful stories of boarding school
life, and finally he opened his trunk and took
outa short jacket and pair of trowsers, of
coarse gray stuff, somewhat resembling can-
vas. They were painted all over with yellow
arrows.

‘‘What do you call that?’ we demanded. »

“Tt is a convict suit,’ replied Horace, laugh-
ingly. ‘TI shall never forget the night I wore
it to a masquerade ball in the town. I must
have cut a pretty figure, for it is a size too
large for me. What atime I had climbing
morning. I came mighty near being caught,
too.”’

We examined the odd-looking clothes curi-
ously. Suddenly Lem clapped his hands and
burst into a hearty laugh. .

“T havea greatidea,*? heexclaimed. ‘‘Let’s
capture Wattles some night, and put these
togs on him. We will lock him up in the
school wood-shed, and in the morning we will
spread the report that an escaped conyict is
hiding there. Won’t it be fun to have a
crowd open the door and drag him out?”

The rest of us fell in eeiareti with the plan,
and Horace, who knew all about our grudge
against Wattles, was anxious to put it into
execution at once.

‘“Y’'m afraid we can’t to-night,’’ said Lem.
“We must-have more.time.to. lay our |
‘pial we
_ Holdon!’ interrupted ‘Tyson, ‘‘We can do
chance.
the schoolmaster.
as I came by.”’

“Hurrah! then we have him!’ cried Lem.
“Tt won’t do to waste much time, though, for
it is nearly nine o’clock now.”’

“That’strue,”’ Lassented. ‘Wattlesalways
goes home between nine and ten.”’

Such an opportunity was not to be despised,
and we promptly decided to take it.

Horace made a flat bundle of the convict
suit, and buttoned it under his coat.

‘“‘Wattles is a little smaller than I am,’’ he
said. ‘‘The rig will fit easily over his clothes.”

‘We must cut his hair off,’? added Lem,
laughingly. ‘Convicts always have cropped
heads.”’

This created considerable merriment, and
Lem had to caution us to keep quiet. We
slipped down the back stairs without meeting
any one, and were soon out on the road. The
night was pitch dark, and at first we could
scarcely see the outline of the fences.

“Tt won’t do for Wattles to discover who
we are,” said Tyson, ‘Keep your coat col-
lars up, and your caps pulled over foureyes.”’

“He will know our voices, though,’ sug-
gested Lem. : ‘

“Tt won’t be necessary to say a word,” re-
plied Horace. ‘When he comes along we will
jump on him quietly, and hold his mouth shut
while we are rigging him out in the togs.”’

This plan seemed feasible, and we cautioned
one another to remember instructions as we
tramped briskly over the hard ground. The
farm-house where Mr. Seaforth boarded was
half a mile from Lem’s home, and the school-
house lay a quarter of a mile farther on.
Midway between the two the road passed
through a locust grove, and we chose this

oint for our ambuscade. Wattles had to go

y here on his way home.

We crept silently past the farm-housé, not-
ing with satisfaction that a light was burning
in Mr. Seaforth’s room.
reflected against the blind. Five minutes
later we were crouched-in the locust eopse at
the edge of the road. 5

It was a pretty cold night to remain inac-
tive; but we did not have to wait more than
ten minutes. We heard two loud good-nights
ring clearly on the frosty air, and then Wat-
tles’ cheery whistling indicated that he was
coming nearer and nearer,

His footsteps echoed on the hard frozen
road, and when we knew that they ‘were
directly opposite us we sprang out. Wattles
gave one loud cry before wesucceeded in clap

Wattles is spending the evening with
Isaw him go in the house

 

jutted out slightly on each side.

We saw two figures |

ping his mouth shut. He struggled hard for a
moment, but we overpowered him by force of
numbers, As quickly as the darkness would
permit, we pulled the coarse blouse and trow-
sers over his clothes, and buttoned them
tightly. Lem had brought a pair of shears
along, and we held Wattles’ head while our
companion hastily snipped off the long locks
of hair.

All this took place in utter silence. Wat-
tles was perfectly still now, and we could hear
his adcke labored breathing. He was evi-
dently terrified nearly out of his wits, and we
began to feel a little scaréd ourselves. Sup-
pose he should have a fit or a convulsion.

‘“‘A single outcry will bring a speedy doom
on your head,”’ said Horace, in a deep, unnat-
ural voice. “If you are silent your life will
be spared.’’ ,

Wattles made no reply, and dragging him
to his feet, we took a tight. girp on his arms,
and marched him toward the school-house.
We had made less than a dozen steps when a
shrill bark rang out behind us, and turning
around, we saw a lantern flashing between us
and the farm-house. We were quick to real-
ize what this meant. The schoolmaster had
heard Wattles’ cry, and was hastening to in-
vestigate. Such a contingency wasmore than
we had bargained for, and we paused a mo-
ment, uncertain whether’to abandon our pris-
oner or try to hide him in the woods.

Wattles solved the problem for us. He
uttered a loud shout, and with a desperate
effort tore loose from our grasp. We tried
to recapture him, but the attempt cost us dear,
Horace received a knock-down blow that
sent him sprawling on his back, and Lem saw
stars as a heavy fist landed between his eyes.

In that brief instant, I think, we felt a kind
of admiration for Wattles. We had never
credited him with such pluck and strength.
We heard him running down the road, shout-
ing at every jump, and then two figures
showed plain in the light of the lantern, which
was now no more than fifty yards behind us.

“Tt was nothing but a mean trick,’’ we
heard the schoolmaster say. ‘Come on, Wat-
tles, well cateh the rascals. Don’t stop to
pull off those duds.”’ ‘

They came rapidly toward us, and in sud-
den panic we fled through the locust grove,
and we the fence into an open field. We
strained every nerve to escape, for we feared
exposure even more than a personal encounter
with Mr. Seaforth, The darkness was in our
favor, but there wére odds against us that we
did not dream of. Our pursuers were accom-
panied by a black terrier, that belonged at the
farm-house, and the vicious little cur was soon
at our heels, barking and snapping furiously.
We drove him back constantly, but each time
he would come at usagain. Of course, this
guided Wattles and the teacher, and they
stuck to the chase with unflagging energy.

| We purposely headed away from home, and

after running a‘mile over fields and through

“belts~of timber, the flashing lantern was as
close behind us as ever, and the cur was still

shapping at our heels.

“What shall we do?” panted Lem.
are sure to be overhauled at this rate.”’

Just then we stumbled‘ onto .the railway
track, and like a flash of inspiration J remem-
bered the trestle bridge that spanned the creek
a short distance ahead,

“Come on,’’? I exclaimed. ‘‘We can cross
on the ties. They will be afraid to follow us
ovyer.”’

‘This-was not as foolhardy a project.as may
seem, for we had crossed the bridge on more
than one previous oceasion, and knew the foot-
ing well.” The suggestion was eagerly re-
ceived, and a short run down the track
brought us to the edge of the trestles. . The
dog stopped on the brink, and barked shrilly
at us as we walked out on the ties, carefully
measuring each step. Our pursuers were close
behind, running with a crunthing noise over
the ballast. 5

On each side of the track was a space less
than two feet wide, but we were afraid to risk
this in the darkness, Forty feet below were
the deep swift waters of the creek. ;

The bridge was in two spans, joined in mid
stream .by a perpendicular stone pier that
As we passed
this we turned around and saw to our con-
sternation that Wattles and the teacher were
advancing rapidly over the ties, picking their
way by the light of the lantern.

We harried on with reckless speed, but half
of the second span yet remained to be tra-
versed when we heard a swift rumbling noise.
The next instant the flaring head-light of a
locomotive dashed into view from round the
curve on the ere shore, The current
swaying against the base of the pier had pre-
vented us from hearing the approach of the
trai see

In that moment of awful horror we almost
lost our wits.

“No time to reach the shore,” cried Tyson.
“Back to the pier, quick!’ ?

This roused us, and we stumbled a eee
over the ties. A shrill blast of the whistle al-
most caused us to fall through. We stepped
on one side of the jutting pier just as Wattles
and Mr, Seaforth gained the other. We had

“We

‘barely exchanged glances across the track

when we made the startling discovery that
Lem was not with us. “That instant a pierc-
ing ery for help rang in our ears, and by the
glow of the teacher’s lantern we saw our com-
panion struggling to free himself from two of
the ties, between which he had fallen. His
body was caught from the waist d ;
aud his efforts to pull loose seemed to be vain,

ward, —

»

 
  

 

     

GooDdD NEWS.

 

3325

 

 

Fright rendered us powerless, and we could
only stare at him with a horrible fascination,
‘as the rumbling train, now entering upon the
bridge, dashed nearer and nearer. The head-
light cast a broad glare on the scene, revealing
Lem’s agonized expression. His lips moved,
but the rattle of the wheels drowned his cries.
He was only a dozen feet away, but not one
of us dared to attempt his rescue. We gave
him up for lost, and held tremblingly to one
another as we waited for the end. We saw
the engineer and fireman lean out of the cab,
and then the former turned and tore fran-
tically at the lever. But it was too late to
stop the train now. It thundered on witha
scarcely perceptible diminution of speed.

At the instant when Lem’s fateseemed most
surely sealed, Wattles sprang from the pier to
the ties, eluding a detaining grab of Seaforth’s
hand. ‘As he dashed forward, the head-light
of the approaching locomotive shone on the
coarse gray convict suit, on his bare head,
with its jaggedly cropped locks, and on his
white set face. He reached the spot,.and
bracing himself firmly, he caught Lem’s arms
and pulled. At the third tug he succeeded in
dragging Lem up beside him, and as the huge
‘engine of death came within a yard of them,
we saw both lads stagger across the track.
Whether the cowcatcher struck them or not
we were unable to tell, but we had a brief
glimpse of them as they shot downward into
space. Then we crouched-low as the lighted
train whizzed by us with a shriek and a roar.,
It sped on its way without stopping, and when
we ventured to rise, we saw the schoolmaster
running over the ties, lantern in hand.

‘‘Come on, you cowards!’’ he’ cried.

We followed him across the span, and along
the bank of the creek, and thence down the
slope to a spot where the current brawled over
rifles. The lantern revealed a dusky object
in mid stream, and we plunged fearlessly
toward it through the shallows.

There we found them, partly conscious, and
locked in each other’sarms. Lem was able to
walk, but Wattles’ strength was spent. We
carried him up the hill to a near-by farm-
house, and sent to the village in haste for a

* doctor. By morning both lads were able to
be taken to their homes,

I need not say that we learned a lesson on
_that terrible night which we never forgot.
- Our contrition and peniterrce hurt us more

than asevere punishment could have done.
We begs ed forgiveness of Wattles and Mr.
Seaforth, and it was freely granted. Wat-
tles’ brave deed made him a hero in the eyes
of all, and from that time on we boys could
never do enough to show our gratitude and
‘esteem for him. Mr. Seaforth told us after-
ward, by the way, that he had himself over-
heard our plan to bar him out, and that Wat-
_ tles was entirely innocent of tale bearing.

te

A PERILOUS SITUATION.

BY G. A. ALLENTON.

a

es :
N the spring, some years ago, my brother
} Fred and 1 broke away from the old
i! home, and went West to make our fort-
unes. After drifting about for some
time, we found ourselves on the banks of a
stream in Southern Kansas, called the Medi-
cine River.

We erected a double shanty on the line be-
tween our claims, so that we lived together,
and yet each was on his own land, Other
men seeking homes soon came, many bring-
ing their families, and before long we had
several near neighbors. Better houses than
dug-outs and sod-shanties began to be in de-
mand, and as Fred and I were handy with
tools, we soon had plenty of work.

Among the cliffs in our vicinity were vast
quantities of gypsum rock, which, when
burned in a kiln, is finer and better for plaster
than lime. Our supply of gypsum was nearly
exhausted when a neighbor called on us to
build a house for him. Thus it was that,
while Fred went to see about the timbers, he
sent me to find a fresh deposit of gypsum, and,
if possible, one more easily got at than any |
we had yet found.

While on my tramp I was suddenly over-
taken by a genuine cyclone.

huge oak stood on a hill before me, but I
knew too*well the danger I incurred by’seek-
ing shelter under it. hundred yards down
the slope to the east was an immense bowlder,
behind which I hastily concluded to crouch, if
nothing better offered. Down the hill I
dashed, hearing in the distance the dull crash-
ing of the storm.

m roun

cing it [was greatly surprised to
find a hole in the be 3 Eee large enough
to admit my body. I knelt and peeredin. Jt
seemed to bea cave some ten or twelve feet
“deep, but I could see little of the interior. It
would afford me shelter from the storm—but
suppose I should find in it a bear or a moun-
tain lion! /-~
_  Asudden darkening of sthe air, and a deaf-
. ening crash from the timber on the other side
of the hill,decided me. Even a mountain lion

myself, feet first. “The hole by which I en-
_ tered was in the roof of the cave near the east
side, The wall I found to be rugged and slop-
ing, so that I climbed to the floor without ac-

cident. There was also a circular hole in the
center of the roof. which answered the pur- | h

“te pose of a skylight, though only about two feet
diameters 2" DNB on *

~

    
   

 

This was all [ had time to notice when the
storm broke in awful fury.

rible roar as the wind swept over the open- | unmolested.

ings; then theré was a heavy jar, and the
cave grew suddenly dark. Looking up to note
the cause,’ I was_ horror-struck. 2
glance showed me that I had found something
worse than mountain lions. The oak on top

A single |

~ : «pe {
Struck with superstitious terror, the savages |
There was a ter- | shrank back and permitted him to go his way | try.

The sight of a man who could
| take his own scalp in that fashion was more |
| than they could stand.
| A somewhat similar story has been told of |
ithe early days in the Fiji settlements. A |
white man, while exploring the interior of one |

of the hill had been torn up and hurled down | of the islands, was taken prisoner by the|

the slope against the bowlder, which it had | natives.

rolled over the hole, thus imprisoning me,

Hastily I climbed up the sloping wall, and | when he noticed that they were fixing up a

strove to roll the stone away, though I well
knew that a dozen men could not stir it.
was all in vain.

Giddy and sick at heart, I climbed down to | jack-knife to cut it.
Part |
of the tree lay across the hole, and a limb! or two, stuck the knife into this leg witha
hung temporarily inside as if to taunt me/| vicious lunge, so that it stood erect.
with an offer of help that was several feet | natives watched him with great astonishment

the floor, and looked up at the skylight.

beyond my grasp. I was a mouse in a jug.

As I stood there, gazing wistfully at the
mouth of my jug, my ear caught the sound
of running water. I hurriedto examine this
new feature, remembering that I had not yet
explored my cell. It was quickly done. I
was in a cave about twelve feet each way,
with neither stick nor stone to build a scaffold
to raise me to the opening in the roof.

A good stream of muddy water was pouring
in at the side of the cave next to the little
gully which I had noticed. I found acrevice
in the rock, by which the water entered, but
it was not nearly large enough to allow me to
escape.

The wind had died away as suddenly as it
had risen, and rain was pouring down in tor-
rents. Soon I noticed that the water was
coming in much more rapidly than it went
out. :

Here was a new horror. Not only wasla
mouse in a jug, but some one was pouring
water into the jug.

Feeling sudde faint, I sat down on the
wet rock, and tried to realize my situation. I
was young, and life was full of charm for me.
How could I give it up? and in such a miser-
able, ignoble way !

I was not a coward; I had faced death in
the form of fierce beasts and fiercer men, and
had never flinched. But to die in a hole, with
no effort to escape, no hope—it was horrible!

Soon the water had risen to where I sat. I
was almost driven mad by its demoniac laugh-
ter. Chuckling, gurgling, fairly shouting
with fiendish glee, it came dancing about me,
seeming to rejoice that I was so helpless, that
I was a mouse in a jug.

Frantic with rage at its hollow, mocking
mirth, I dashed up the rugged wall, and strove
to roll the stone from my tomb. |

In vain. Hercules himself could not have
done it. pais
Higher and higher rose the water, and

more and more frantic were my efforts. Tf
en Traved, I laughed and sang, and anon

urst into childish tears, but the water never
ceased chuckling, and rose steadily all the
while. I could not cling long to the wall,
and the water was soon upto my armpits. A
little longer and it was up tomy chin, and i
could hardly keep my footing.

By this time I was calmer, for my panic
had worn me out, and the icy water-was fast
benumbing me. When it lifted me from my
feet I strove to shake off the torpor I felt
stealing over me, and struck out mechanically
to keep myself afloat. For some time I kept
up the effort, until, looking up, the asia
occurred to me that if I could only keep up
long enough the water might lift me within
reach of the limb of the skylight.

The water now rose more slowly, for it had
risen to the hole by which I had entered, and
some was escaping there, Though hope re-
newed had increased my strength for the mo-
ment, I realized that I was fast failing, and
the effort must come soon, or I should un-
able to draw my eramped and chilled body
through the opening. :

. Sinking low in the water, I leaped with all
my strength toward the limb, still some feet
above my head. Falling short, I dropped
back, and went completely under. As I rose
to the surface, taking advantage of the mo-
mentum already acquired, Imade one supreme
effort, and seized the limb. Even now | mar-
vel at the strength I still retained, enabling
me to climb out and fall fainting on the
ground.

It was almost a fortnight later when I re-
gained consciousness. y i :

Thad arrived home near midnight, bruised,
torn, haggard, and raving with the delirium
of brain-fever brought on by that terrible ex-
perience. nS

—— + 0

Savages Outwitted. ©

SURGEON of Montcalm’s army had
been taken prisoner by a marauding
band of Indians.. They dragged him
along with them a short distance;

x,

It | his agitation, he called for something to eat.

then he heard them talk of scalping him. |

They did not know that he understood their

language; and he made up his mind to turn
this and another circumstance to his advan- |
was better than a cyclone, so I gently lowered | ta; ,

ge, : . a x

_‘*Wretches!’’ he exclaimed, in a terrible
tone of voice; “‘you dare to k of scalping
me. Beware, or the Great Spirit will send
its lightnings down upon your heads!’’

As he said this, he lifted his wig from his |h

ead with one hand. Fortunately for him-
self, perhaps, he had become entirely bald in
consequence of a long illness.

chee
a

He did not like the looks of his cap- |
i tors from the start, and liked them still less |

neighboring oven. ‘Trying hard not to show

| Food was set before him, and he used his large

He had a cork leg, and at every mouthful
2)

The

and unmistakable alarm. Having finished
| the meal, he started to unscrew his leg. The
dismay and fright of the savages dipelled any
curiosity they may have felt as to what he
would do next; they opened a passage and let
him walk off.

By the time he had reached his horse, some
little distance away, they began to gather
around him again, but, after having mounted,
he made a motion as if to unscrew his head,
and they all ran away in a panic, while he
rode back to the settlement, happy over his
clever escape.

a ee

A DARING RIDE.

—

BY RALPH MORGAN.

—— ++

EARS ago my father settled in a rather

i. wild part of Colorado, near Major
Creek.
ec The country was wild enough in

those days.

Deer and antelope in abundance ranged the
foot-hills of tne Sangre de Christo Mountains,
whose snow-capped peaks threw a shadow
over our cabin until far into the morning.

Skulking coyotes, and yet more cowardly
Indians, traveled up and down the broad val-
ley that opened out grandly to the south and
west of us.

Last and most dangerous, were a band of
the huge gray timber wolves. There are no
wild animals more to be dreaded than these
same timber wolves, especially when pressed
by hunger.

With these ugly brutes it was my luck to
have an adventure the second spring after we
settled on Major Creek.

Twas then a lad of fifteen, small. for my
age, but wiry, and’ as capable of enduring
fatigue as any man, while no one in the valley
could excel me in riding after cattle, throw-
ing a lasso, or sticking to a bucking bronco.

Tn early days in Colorado it was the cus-
tom to let stock, both horses and cattle,
‘“‘rustle for themselves’’—i. e., run at large on
the dry grass of the range during the cold sea-
son; but the first winter we were in the val-
ley the wild animals were so mischievous:
that we were compelled to herd every beast
we had from autumn to spring. :

The grass was unusually late in starting u
that year, hence all of our stock, even our rid-
ing animals, grew very thin. =

And ‘‘thereby hangs my tale,’’ for one even-
ing, in the latter part of March, a particu-
larly cranky old cow broke away from the
herd aS we were rounding the cattle up
preparatory to driving them to the corral for
the night, and, our horses being so weak and
poor, neither my brother nor myself could
overtake the runaway. ,

But when we erties the loss at the sup-
per-table that night, my mother was much
vexed, as the missing cow was her pet milker.

‘You must hunt her up to-morrow, boys,’’
she said, earnestly. :

“No use, mother,” my brother Horace re-
plied, “Something has eaten her up before
now.

‘‘T am not sosure of that,’’ father remarked.
“Don’t you remember how last spring we
found her standing off a mountain lion from
her calf? ‘You had better look for her a little
to-morrow.” |

That settled the matter, of course, so in the
morning I herded the stock, while Horace rode
among the “foot-hills to the south of us, and,
as he was unsuccessful in his search, that
afternoon I left the cattle with him and
started off to the northward, hoping to find |
some trace of our stray by the time I reached
Steel Canon if not before.

My pony seemed to be too nearly worn out
by his morning’s work for so long a ride that
day; so I first went home and exchanged my |
bronco for father’s yellow cayeuse, whic
happeneg to be standing in the stable.

Here let me explain that ‘‘bronco”’ is Colo-
rado vernacular for a native pony, while
‘‘cayeuse’’ is the Montana term for the same
animal, © 3

Father’s pet ane horse, Selim, had been
brought from the latter State, hence we
usually called him by the local name. :

As I was changing my saddle from one pony
to the other, mother came out to the corral
with a steaming cup of strong coffee for my
refreshment, and, when I rode away, repeated
er injunctions to “look well for angletop,

 

 

for she was the best cow on the ranch.’
Witha a right, mother!’ I gal-
‘loped off light-heartedly toward Steel Canon,

i

keeping a sharp eye on the intervening coun-

An hour’s brisk riding brought me to the
mouth of the gulch; two hours’ search proved
that Tangletop was not hidden within its
depths, and I turned the cayeuse homeward,
first pausing and looking out over the valley.

Not an animal was in sight.

“‘Last summer the cattle used to runin Hay-
den Pass a good deal,” I reflected, ‘and that
must be where the stray cowis. It’s a little
late to go up there to-night, but mother thinks
so much of Tangletop that we’ll have to go,
Selim; so step out lively.”’

And I rode on still to the north.

Hayden Pass was the name given to a nar-
row, gloomy canon that cut deep into the
Sangre de Christo Mountains, almost meeting
a guich on the opposite side of the range, there
being buta low ridge between the heads of
the two ravines. Hence the name of the
““Pass.’?

But though the canon itself was cheerless
enough, its upper slopés were sunny and al-
ways clothed with an abundance of grass,
green and succulent in summer, dry, but
nutritious in winter.

Sure enough, hither had strayed poor.Tan-
gletop, for I found her horns (I knew them by
the peculiar crook- in the left one) and her
cleanly picked bones lying amid the juniper
bushes far-up the mountain side.

I had ridden up there, for a cowboy never
walks where he can by any possibility ride, no
matter how steep the ascent, and as I drew
rein to let the cayeuse regain his breath, I
noted, with a start of surprise, that it had
grown very late. ; fe,

Indeed, from between the peaks of
Saguache hills the level rays of the setting —
sun shone full in my face, and brightened the ~
dry grass around the pony’s hoofs, but be-
neath them lay long shadows, and in the gath-

ering twilight Hayden Pass yawned dark and

gloomy at my feet.

“Come, Selim, we must get out of this,” I
said to the cayeuso, with a shake of thé rein;
but before he could take a step forward, from
@ pinion-shrouded gulch to my left arose a
deep, long-drawn howl.

The moment after, another rang out, clear,
and ominous, from the opposite side of Hay-
den Pass.

Then a third and a fourth sounded froma
cottonwood thicket that nestled in a guich at
my rear.

“It’s the wolves, and they have us almost
surrounded, Go it, Selim!’ I cried, as I gave
him rein.

Half wild with fear, he rushed off down the
mountain side. ;

That was a mad ride for.life. |

Now we dashed under the low-hanging
boughs of a stunted cedar, next we leaped a
fallen tree-tep, scattering dry branches right
and left, and then we jumped a deep gully or
went heading off a ledge eievocks not seen in
the dim light until too late to avoid them.

Somehow we reached the bottom of the pass
in safety, and flew down the narrow trail to
me mouth of the eee tte

s we emerged into the open valley, | saw
the glow of lights at Gottlieb’s et ee
other pioneer settler, only three miles away.

. If only the cayeuse could distance our ter-
rible pursuers that far, we were safe.

“Down grade, and a clear trail, Go it,
Selim! We'll beat them yet!’ I cried.

And the little horse lay low upon the ground,
while the echo of his hoof-beats rang a rhyth-
—- march of triumph upon the hard-packed
soil.

But glancing over my shoulder, through the
twilight, I saw a sie of flying shadows hor-
ribly close at our heels. ;

The howling had ceased long since, as the
wolves were now saving their breath to chase
their prey.

‘‘Faster—faster, Selim!’ I shouted.

And the y sprang forward with in-
creased , only to stumble and fall, send-
ing me head over heels into a clump of oak

rush.

Luckily I was not much hurt, but scram-
bled to my feet just in time to see the poor
cayeuse hobble past on three legs, with the
band of wolves right upon him. ete

‘Put his foot in a dog-hole and broke his
leg,’’ I reflected. ‘‘That ends his chances,
poor fellow.” :

The next moment I heard that pitiful
sound, the scream of a horse in mortal terror,.
and knew that the savage brutes had over-
taken him at last. ; .

‘No use to wait here for them to come back
after me,” I pondered. ‘Lucky thing I fell
in this b: where they could not see me, or
some of them would have finished me before
now. Id better climb a tree while I havea
chance.”’

But that was easier said than done, for on
the sloping foot-hill where I stood, grew noth-
ing save s Taggling oak brush, too low to fur-
nish a safe refuge.

However, about three hundred yards up
toward the mountains, stood a clump of
scraggy pinions and cedars, from nids'
towered a great yellow pine, and thither I
hastened. os So Re

Out of breath, and still trembling from the
effects of my fall, Isat down at the foot of
the tree to rest; but. now the howls of the
wolves again a in — ears: ~~ ee
finished my faithful cayeuse, they

Rising, to climb the pine tree,
but it was fully three feet through at the
base, while the nearést branches were quite

Havi
were back for me!
Rising, I atte

whose midst —
332s

CHO:

eat

NEWS.

 

twenty feet from the ground, hence my
frantic efforts were fruitless.

Completely exhausted, I was forced to de-
sist, but the rapidly nearing howls of the
wolves quickly aroused me.

“Tf only I had a gun, I’d sell my life as
dearly as might be,’’ I groaned.

And then I bethought me that I at least had
a few matches in my pocket.

Drawing them forth, I struck one, and with
trembling fingers held it to a tuft of dry
grass.

Instantly a tiny flame shot up; this I fed

with pine-needles, dy cones and little twigs,
until I had a bright blaze burning; and none
too soon, for now the baffled wolves were cir-
cling round and round the space illuminated
by the fire-light, while some of the bolder ones
even entered for a moment its outer boun-
dary.
At first I fed the fire freely, but as the night
wore on, and the savage brutes showed no
signs of leaving, I began to economize on
fuel.

The ground beneath the pine tree was lit-
tered with the fallen needles, cones and dry
branches of years, but they burned very fast,
and already I had made great inroads upon
them.

It must have been about nine o’clock when
a second pack of wolves jomed those already
guarding me.

The new-comers were evidently regarded as
intruders, for they were greeted with angry

snarls, and finally both packs indulged in a.

rough-and-twnble fight.

AS they struggled together, now and then a

oup were forced within the circle of fire-
fight and I shuddered as I saw their pitiless

thite fangs and glaring eyes.

- But the savage animals soon tired of rend-
ing each other, and returned to their old oc-
cupation of ceaselessly tramping around my
fire-lit space.

Thus the hours dragged wearily past, until,
from the position of the stars, I knew that it
lacked but two hours of daybreak, and now
the fire ‘began to burn low.

Every cone and twig from beneath the tree |

had been heaped on it.

“Tf one of those pinions was just a, little
higher, ’d make a dash for it,’ I thought,
over and over again, as I watched the flames
sink lower and lower, while the circling
wolves came closer and closer.

And now there was but a bed of glowing
embers left.

The gaunt leader of the band had crept up
nearer and still nearer, and as the filmy ath
began to form upon the ruddy coals, he
crouched to leap upon his prey.

My head sank upon my breast as I waited
that fatal spring, when lo! a column of sparks
and flame shot twenty feet up into the air,
and scattered the frightened wolves, who fled
howling in dismay. :

I was saved! a

A pitch-soaked root had blazed up in the
nick of time, and now burned merrily.

Presently the whole resin-covered trunk. of
the tree caught fire, and became a veritable
pilla™ef flame, and then I knew that my hour
of peril was indeed past.

he wolves hung about until morning, but
the first beams of the rising sun scattered
tiem to their lair among the mountains.

You can imagine how my heart beat with
joy as I watched the last one slink away.

As soon as it was broad daylight, I started
on foot for Gottlieb’s cabin, where I foundmy
father and brother making eager inquiries
concerning me. ; :

a
QUEER TREES,

There are many vegetable wonders in this
world of ours. Certain tropical trees furnish
“clothes as well as food, and the inner bark of
others is smooth and flexible enough to serve
as writing paper.

The bread tree has a solid fruit, a little
larger than a cocoanut, which, when cut in
slices, and cooked, can scarcely be distin-
guished from excellent bread. The weeping
tree of the Canary Islands is wet, even ina
drought, constantly distilling water from its
leaves, and the wine tree, of Mauritius Island,
furistions ood wine instead of water. A
kind of ash, in Sicily, has a sap which hard-
ens into crude sugar, and is used as such by
the natives, without an
uct of the wax tree, of the Andes, resembles
beeswax very closely. Then there is the
butter tree, of Africa, which produces as
much as a hundred pounds at once, only to be
renewed in a few months. This secretion,
when hardened and salted, is difficult to dis-
tinguish from fresh, sweet butter. Closely
rivaling this is the milk tree, of South Amer-
ica, the sap of which resembles rich cow’s
milk, and is used as such by the natives.
China can boast of a soap tree, the seeds of
which, when used as soap, produce a strong
suds, and remove dirt and grease readily.
In direct opposition to these useful trees, is
the man-eating plant of the tropics, which
r sles Venus’ fly-trap in its nature. It
has a short, thick trunk, armed with narrow,

bed spines.

Mrs. Wickwire—‘“What is the difference

between me and a chicken, dear?’ Mr. Wick-

wire—“‘About t -five years, I guess.”

ickwi h, you hateful thing.

That isn’t the answer at all. The chicken is
killed to dress, and I’m dressed to kill.”

Dre

| SO

refining. The prod-

 

THE GOOD NEWS

‘y Tellers’ Clut
Story Tellers’ Club.
Y \ NTICIPATIONS of fun at
Y Ve
“LSS ance at the next meeting of the Goop
A“ News Story Tellers’ Club.

‘6 Piggy”’

member to another, telling them, with many
sly winks and mysterious allusions, that he in-
tended to give all hands a rare old treat on
the following Saturday.

“Bub” Oliver, the fat boy’s companion on
that supposed trip to the land of cowboys and
wild Indians, had held several secret inter-
views with Charlie, and the two had arranged
all details. When ‘‘Piggy”’ stepped up to the
platform, after the transaction of routine
business, he was greatly astonished to find
himself suddenly seized, and bound hand and
foot by the ‘‘bouncing”’ committee.

Ere the hapless fat boy could do more than
stutter a protest, President Charlie relieved
him of his manuscript, and said loudly:

“T have an important announcement to
make to the members of this club. When we
organized, it was with the intention of relat-
ing strictly true tales of personal adventure.
That plan has been followed up to the present
moment; but now Iam given to understand
that an unworthy member, by name; ‘‘Piggy”’
Peck, has prepared a story, praising his own
bravery, and which does not contain the
slightest particle of truth. His scheme is

| nipped in the bud, however, and as a punish-

ment to him, and a warning to others, Pl
read a portion of his manuscript, which tells
of his supposed adventures while a cowboy;
and then. have ‘‘Bub”’ Oliver, his companion

on the trip, give you a truthful description of |

the incident, To begin, ‘“‘Piggy’’ heads his
story:
“HOW I SLEW THIRTY REDSKINS.”

[Shouts of laughter came from all parts of
the hall, and the unfortunate ‘‘Piggy”’ looked
as if he had an intense yearning for the seclu-
sion of home about that moment.]

About seven months ago I received an offer
from an uncle of mine, owner of the most ex-
tensive cattle ranch in the world, to enter his
employ as chief of his six thousand cowboys.
I accepted——

“Ob! what'a whopper!’ interrupted the
secretary, in deep disgust.

“Fancy ‘Piggy’-on a bronco!’’ added an-
other, derisively.

“‘He’d look like a pumpkin on a jack rab-
bit.”’ :

These and other similar remarks caused
Charlie to laugh so-heartily that he gave up
the task of reading the manuscript»wned mo-
tiohed ‘*Bub’’ Oliver to give his version of the

memorable trip, which the latter did, first an-_

nouncing his title as:

“HOW WE BECAME COWBOYS.”

Several weeks ago ‘‘Piggy’’ came to me and
said he wanted to go West and grow up asa
bold cowboy.

-I didn’t want to be no cowboy, and told him
plumply.
Hie wasn’t satisfied, and kept bothering me,
and bothering me, until one day I said ’'d go
to Chicago if he’d furnish the money.

He-said that was farther than he intended
going, but to get my company, he’d raise the
poodle.

Well, on the following night I heard a
whistle down in our back alley, and watching
my chance, slipped out while pop was reading
the Goop NEws.

Who should I find out there but ‘‘Piggy”
all dressed up fit to kill.

He had on an old: straw hat, with a bunch of
rooster feathers stuck in the crown, a pair of

ellow pants, with shawl fringe sewed down
he legs, and an old leather belt stuck full of
table kni ves. 2

I begin to laugh, but he drew one of the
knives, and said:

“Hist! the nightis dark, and we must away.
E’n now the murderous redskins are on our
trail!’

I thought he was crazy, and started to go
home again, but he stopped me, and said that
was what he had learned at the cowboy drama
that week.

I asked him what he wanted with his
blamed whistling, and he answered that. he

was ready to go West.

“How much you got?’ I asked then.

“Dollar’n forty-three cents,’’ he answered,
see a lot of coppers and dimes from hi

elt. ¥

Then I wanted to go home again, sure, for I
knew we couldn’t go nowhere with a dollar’n
forty-three cents.

“Hol on,” he whispered. ‘I have my
nickel watch, and the cat’s-eye pin Granny
gave me for Christmas. We can sell them for
most a hundred dollars, and that will take us
to Arizony.”’

I thought I'd try it, so we started for the
railroad just outside of town.

As we slipped past our house, I heard pop
open the winder, and yell: — ;

“Bub Oliver! You, Bub, come in here this
instant!!”’

I kind of stopped in the shadder of the
Paes tree just outside of our yard, but

‘Piggy” grabbed my arm, and we scooted
down the road.

Well, we reached the railway at last, and

™~

Peck’s expense brought a full attend- |

i During |
the week President Charlie had gone from one |

 

| first.

 

hid near the water-tank. We were going to| ders, and we can tie dis feller on, and have

take a freight as far as we could, and then sell
the watch and pin.
By-and-by, a locomotive, pulling a lot of

|

some fun. Wot yer say?”
They all yelled with joy, and two or three
started away for the cow. Presently Le
1

empty cars, came along, and Wwe popped into | came back, leading an old brindle milker, wit
one that must have been loaded with cattle |

the day before.

“Pigoy’’ didn’t like it one bit, but I told him |
| knives; they tied me on the front end of the

that now was our chance to commence being
cowboys for sure.

Presently the train started again, and we |

must have rode more’n nine miles before being
ketched,
Just as we was shaking hands over our good

luck in getting a free passage, a trap-door in |

the roof of the car was thrown open, and |
somebody stuck a lantern down almost in my

face. |
:

‘What in blazes air youse kids doin’ in

there?’ yelled a terrible voice, then a big, |
rough-looking man dropped down in front of |

us.
‘‘Piggy’’ was scared, but I whispered to him

|
that now was-the time to show his nerve.
“Don’t let him bluff you,’ says I, kinder |

frightened myself. ‘Just draw a couple of |
them knives, and tell him we’re going to ride
or. ‘do’ the whole train up.”’

“You—you—tell him that,’’ he whispered, |
his voice shaking like sixty. |
‘““Ain’t you the boss of the firm?’ I an-
swered, and just then the brakeman grabbed |
“Pigey”’ by the neck, and dragged him toward

the side door.

‘Tryin’ ter beat yer way, eh?” he roared. |
“Just poney over two dollars apiece, or Pll |
t’row yer out on yer face.”

“L—let go of m—me,”’ whimpered “‘Piggy,”” |
trying to draw a knife. rs a cowboy,
a—aud Dll take your—your scalp if you |
don’t——”’ |

He never had time to say another word. |

The brakeman got ripping mad, and open-
ing the door, pitched “Piggy” out quicker’n
lightning, then, grabbing me by the pants, |
threw me after him.

Lucky for us, the train was going up a
heavy grade, and just moving, so we wasn’t |
hurt.

Lianded on my knees and hands, and, get-
ting. up, looked around for ‘‘Piggy.”’

le was a sight, and I laughed until I busted |

my suspender.

water, and was just crawling out when I saw |}
him. .
Most of his face was black, and his hair was |

| were the jeers cast at the fat boy.
| Charlie arose from his chair,

shedding tears of water and mud, and he’d |

lost half of his knives.
He got hot when he saw me laugh, and said
he’d burn me at the stake if [ didn’t quit, so I

| book.

got serious again, and asked if we hadn’t bet- |

ter go on.

“Not to-night,’’ he finally answered. ‘‘I—l
guess Vll.go. home-and»git. some-dry clothes
We can start again to-morrow.” —

one horn, . f
After going through us, and taking the dol-
lar’n forty-three cents, and the rest of the

cow, and ‘‘Piggy’’ on the back end, facing the
tail.

Then with a whoop and a yell, they whacked
old Brindle in the side, and off we scooted lick-
ity-sphit.

I hollered, and so did ‘‘Piggy,’”’ but the more
noise we made, the faster that blamed cow
hoofed it. :

The tramps run with us for ’most half a
mile, and then they had to stop for Jaughing.

We didn’t go much farther ourselves, as the
old cow stumbled over a log, and liked to have
squashed us to death. °

The fall broke the ropes, however, and we
soon got clear of the brute.

About two hours later we crawled into town,
all broke up, and blamed sure that we didn’t
want no more cowboy business in ours.

And that’s the truth about me and “Piggy”’
Peck running away to be cowboys.

tt e * * * *

When ‘Bub’ Oliver ceased speaking, the
room fairly rang with laughter, and many
President
, and ordered
“Piggy” released, adding:

‘“‘As 1 am of the opinion that you have been

| sufficiently punished by hearing this story, I

won’t dismiss you from the club, but don’t let
us hear any more such efforts from you in the
future. The club is adjourned until next

| Saturday night.”

—- + _o-__—__———-

Well Supplied.

2

OME time ago an irrepressible book

. agent visited a small bamlet in’ the
State of Michigan, selling ‘The Royal

co Path of Life.” He had just nine books

| ijn his valise, and he was determined to sel] all

of them that day. The first nian he ap-

| proached, was prominent in the church.
He had fallen into a ditch full of muddy |

“You had better call up at the house and
see my wife, for she buys all the books,’’ said

| the man, good-naturedly.

But, with the customary pertinacity of the
guild, the agent made a sale. His success
continued until about three o’clock in the
afternoon—he had sold seven copies of his
He was anxious to get away, and de-
termined to sell the remaining two copies, so °

| he called on the wife of his first custcmer,

and, first being careful to ascertain that her

| husband had not been home since morning, he

sold her oné Of his books.

I thought it was’ a funny way to be cow- |
boys, but I didn’t say nothing, as I wanted to |

go home, too. That brakeman was too blamed
uncivil to suit me.

us saying a word, but I had to stop and
snicker every little while at ‘‘Piggy’s’’ appear-
ance.

The moon was up, and as bright as a dollar,
so I could see him plain. I could tell by the
way he walked that he wasn’t feeling very
good, and I guess those wet clothes must have
felt awful.

We were makin’ good time on the. back
stretch home, when suddenly, just as we were
passing through a shadder cast. by a lot of
trees, some one yelled out:

“Stop! Throw up yer hands, and give us
yer boodle!’’ '

My! but I was scared., ‘Piggy’ liked to
have fainted, and stopped still in his tracks,
trembling like a boy with the chills.

‘Hands up, consarn yer, or I’Jl bat yer
head off’n yer shoulders!’ screeched the voice
again, and a lot of tramps ran ont of the
woods, and surrounded us.

There was about ten of them, all with
ragged whiskers, and the worse looking faces
you ever saw,

“What in blazes have we got here?’’ said
one of them, stepping back and looking at
“Piggy,” ;

“Great shakes! is it alive?’ asked another,
snickering until the tears rolled down his
whiskers.

“Tt’s a’ blasted loonatic wid de dropsey,”’
— a big feller, poking at ‘“‘Piggy’’ with his

nger. ;

That made “Piggy” hopping, and, drawing
a nickel-plated butter knife from his belt,
he made asweep at the whole gang, and
shouted:

“Git back, base pale-faces, or
heart’s blood! A-yaunt, or——’ ;

Before he could say what he’d do, they
jumped on him, and in two shakes he was tied
to a telegraph pole. ;

I started to run, but they got me, too, and
put me alongside of him.

Then how they did cut up! Some of them
just rolled on the cinders, and howled, and

owled. I didn’t see no fun in it, but I guess
they did, from the way they acted. é

“Tt’s a kid wantin’ to be an Injun fighter,”
grinned the big feller. ‘What's yer name on
de prairies, Sh? 25 ate y

“I guess it must be, ‘(Dumplin’ Dook, the fat
Cowboy of de Buffalo Walley,’ ”’ said one of
the tramps. - pnt

“1 say, fellers,” spoke up another, suddenly.
“Tt de kid wants ter be a cowboy, let’s accom-
merdate him, There's a cow back in de med.

Pu have your

little attention to an engine.. T

 

When the husband came home, he gave his
wife a parcel, saying:

“There, one of those confounded book

| agents talked me into buying that book.”
Well, we started down the track, neither of

‘What!’ exclaimed his wife, ‘a book?
Why I bought one, too.”

When they compared notes they found that
they were well supplied with ‘‘The Royal Path
of Life.”

The man was furious, and while he was put-
ting on his boots, to go down to the station to
get square with that ‘‘villainous agent,” a
farmer rode by, and the irate man shouted to
him to detain that book agent at the station,
as he wished particularly to see him.

When the neighbor reached the station, the
train was in sight.

“My friend, Mr. —— wishes very much to

‘| see you before you leave town,” he shouted.

“Oh, yes!” said the agent, blandly, ‘he
eae one of my books, and Ihave just one
eft. !

‘*How much is it?” said the man, hurriedly,
for the train was at hand.

“Two dollars.’’

‘‘Here’s your money.”’ ‘

The train moved off, carrying the book
agent, just as the excited church member, in
hot haste, came in sight. His anger at the
latest imposition may be imagined.

——_-—- > & eo  —-- —

ANIMALS AND LOCOMOTIVES.

It is strange how differently animals are
affected by the locomotive.- Dogs will run
and bark at the wheels, leaping about, but
seldom get hurt. Horses will race ahead of
the engine on the track, and sometimes will
run half a mile before they can be driven off.
Oxen can hardly be persuaded to get out of
the way, while a calf will sometimes stand on
the track and stare at the locomotive in blank

astonishment, until, taken by the ears and
dragged away, Sheep are the most stupid.
| If one attempts to cross in front of a moving

engine, the engineer may make up his mind
to an accident, for the balance of the drove
are going to get over or die. H oge pay very
ney seem to
roars it as something quite out of their line,
and not in any way toncerning them.
—— —___ »- e- & —_--—

An official notice has been issued in Russia
that ‘‘physicians shall have the right tomake
use 0
patients. In every case of the application
they must inform the administrative author-
ities, at the same time giving the names of
physicians in whose presence the patient was —

ny pnotized,”’ ;

 

hopnotism in the treatment of their  <
GOooDp

NEWS.

 

AIM OIN G
we Ne ox
Goon News iG.uss.

{SPECIAL NOTICE.—This column is for GooD
NEWS Clubs only. No notices will be inserted
excepting such as are genuine GOOD NEws Club
notices, and nothing in the shape of am advertise-
ment will be allowed. Every club notice should
have the names of the president and secretary of
the club attached. For information concerning
GOoD NEws Club. Badge and Electrotypes see ad-
vertisement on last page.

It is astonishing how far the influence of GOopD
NEWS Clubs reaches. Not only have we. heard
from boys and girls in every State and ‘l'erritory in
the Union, but we frequently get. letters from
members in Canada, in Mexico and Central Amer-
ica, and occasionally from those in the Old World.
Verily, this elub business is far-reaching! And
who Can tell where the end will be found?

Cee

CHAT.

A, I. W.—The notice is an advertisement.
Read notice at head ofethis column,

W. 4d. C.—1. Thanks. 2. Yes.

ee

CLUB NOTICES. .

_ Notice! The Electric Goop NEws Corresponid-
ing Club, of Rochester, N. Y., wants 100 members,
and to induce Goop NEWS readers to join it, will
ive each one joining from the following States a
prize: Vexas, Lonisiana, Mississippi, Alabama,
Georgia and Florida. Initiation fee, 5c.; no dues.
ees Paul Harding, 138. Union st., Rochester,
WwW

All members of the Goop NEWS Young People’s
Union, of Atlanta, Ga., receive, free of charge,
the Amateur, an eight page club paper, and
the Youth's Hnterprise, a four-page club paper,
This union has representatives in all parts of
the United states and Canada. Large -printed
list of members, fine printed rules and con-
stitution, a-lovely membership ecard free to all
joining. Initiation fee only 10c.; dues, 10¢c. quar-
terly. Ladies admitted for a stamp, Address W.
Hillyer Ragsdale, pres., Box 195, Atlanta, Ga.

GOOD NEWS Corresponding and Stamp Exchange
Club would like to have more members. Fifty for-
sigu stamps to any onejoining, and 100 to the first
one joining from Flotida, Texas, and California,
Address Fred P, SclieBwk, sec. and treas., 4121 Main
street, Pittsbarpi, Pa. eae m3

_ Boys aud Girls, join the Goop’ Nrws Monumen-
“i Corresponding Olub of Baltimore, Md. Card
6! iembership, list of members, and 100 different
papers postage paid free of charge to all joining.
TInitiatien fee, 10 cents (silver); ladies, 56 cents. No
dues. Greenleaf Harrison, sec., 350 N. Calvert st,

The Eureka GOOD N&Ws Corresponding Club is
one of the first Goop NEWS Ciubs. We have 150
members. Members who are intelligent and able
correspondents. Our new list will be out next
week, and contains besides list of: members, rules
and regulations, collectors’ directory, ete. All join-
ing receive card, copy of Club Register, and
printed list of members. Fees, 10 cents. Ladies
tree.’ W. M. Lewis, Lisle, Broome Co., N. Y.

All young men from 16 years up, who wish tojoin
the GOOD NEWS Athelic and Bicycle Club. of New
York city. may Call up to the meeting Sunday at 2
P.M. Allyoung men ‘of good character taken,
The club 1s limited to twenty nembers only, Also
young ladies who ride wheels are taken free of in-
itiation fee. Meetings held every Sunday, at 2
P.M., atA. C. Nadeje’s, 304 Kast 74th street, New
Youk city, Inipiation, fee, 25 cents; dnes;5 cents
per week.

Goobp N&ws Corresponding Club of Atlanta, Ga,
tas just been organized and wants to get enough
men vers to publish alist. Correspondents will be
furnished from all parts of the U. S, and Canada.
The Youth's Enterprise will be sent free to all mem-

bers. Initiation fee, 6 cents ; dues, 5 cents quarterly |

inadvanes, Big pack of reading matter sent free to
all joining this week. W. H, Ragsdale, president;
P. Harvy Jones, vice Pasig aaa Minnie E, Gordon
2d, vice president; Miss Myrium May Genervy,
sec.; Miss Anna Bell Raymond, treas. Address
all communications to the sec., MyriuueMay Gen-
ervy, care Box 195, ; :

Join Goop NeEws. Corresponding and Puzzle
Club of Chicago, Ill, and receive the Little Jour-
nalone year, a package of story papers, lists of
Inembers wanting correspondents, ete. Dues,
10 centsa year. No initiation fee. For further in-
formation address B. A. Wilson, 27 Fay street.

GooD NEws Puzzle Club Members wanted at
once. If we get 50 before the firstof May, we will
Siart @ puzzle journal to be issued every two
weeks. Initiation fee, 10 cents, Anes, 15 cents a
year, in advance, E, A. Henderson, pres. and

_treas.; J. L. Allene, vice pres.; Wm. Podewill, sec.
_ Pres’t’ address, Edwin A. Henderson, Box 42.
Wipe pains, Conn.

Did you know that by sending 25 cents for mem-
bership in the GOOD NEWS Young People’s So-
_¢iety, that-you would receive a fine card of mem-

- vership, listof members, a big bundle of amateur
papers, Zhe Young American one year, and ve
Youth's Blade 6 months? I offer to admit young la-

- dies for atwo cent stanrp. Harris Reed, Jr, pres.,
1119 Mt, Vernon street, Philadelphia, Pa. ;

The Acme Goop NEWS Literary Club of New
York, wishés to inform the readers of the Goop
NEws that the first hundred joining this elab will
receive a beautiful membership card for one year
without dues. Initiation fee, 5 cents. Address.
Oscar M. Homburger, 168 West 96th street, New
York, N.Y

Dow tlet your youth slip by without joining the

_ GOOD NEWS Corresponding and Exchange Club of
» North America. This club will shortly publish a
twelve page monthly. Send stamp for application
“Dilank. Every one joining receives handsomely
printed list of members, constitution and by-laws,
and membership card. Initiation fee, 5 cents; dues,

5 cents a month, Officers: Irving Edwin Blake,
president; Arthur Zaduk, vice president; J. H,
Hagen, secretary, Riverhead, L.-1.; W. F. Foster,

 treasnrer, “Address the secretary, — es

‘he Capital City GOOD Nuws Club wants repre.
sentatives in every State and ‘l'erritory. For one
week only we will admit every one fora two cent
stamp, The first five joining will receive an ele-
gaunt art picture. Address E. J. Brady, sec., 1118
K st., N. W., Washington, D. C.

Join the Goop NEWws tne Clab of
Springfield, Mass, For two weeks initiation fee
will 5e only 6c, Ladies and foreigners free. No
dues. Membership card and lst, and to the first
ten joining an entire foreign envelope. Present
to those joining from Idaho, Illinois or Indiana.
Bao
Mass,

cae By joining the Goop NEWws Corresponding Cinbot | \
Fort mplnge. Newark, N. J., has a collection of United

Dodge, Ta,., now, you can have your name insert:
edin the membership list, which will be issned at
onge. It will be the work of an artist. You will

lester, sec., 347 Walnnt st, Springfield,

 

also receive the Club Gazette, which has been en-
larged, and now contains all the news of the Goop
NEWS clubs and short talks by prominent secreta-
ries, and a nice colored membership card. Initia-
tiou fee, 10¢.; dues, 5c. per month in advance. La-
dies free. George W. Tremain, sec., Fort Dodge,
lowa.

The GooD NEWs Amateur Dramatic Correspond
ing Club of Philadelphia, Pa., treats of an entirely
new method of corresponding, which is highly en-
tertaining and instructive to its members. We
wish representatives in every city of the United
States, and a special invitation is given to our
Canadian friends who are readers of the GOoD
News. Address, inclosiug stamp, W. J. Millican,
sec., 1745 Frankford av., Philadelphia, Pa.

T would like to hear from all young men inter
ested in photography, who would like to help or
ennize aGOooD NEWS Amateur Photographers’ Club:
The idea of the club will be to exchange photo
graphs of historic and iiteresting objects. Ad
dress Fred A, Fellows, Fitchburg R. R., Bostem
Mass.

When you become a member of the GOOD NEWs
I. C. Corresponding and Young People’s Society
you join aclub that is live, popular and progress-
ive. You receive an extra-fine 16-paye list, beanti-
fully designed membership certificate, circulars,
souvenir card, list of latest members, etc. Dues
only 10¢c. per year. Ladies and foreigners (except
Canadians) adimitted free. Wm. Lee Chambers,
Box 338, Plainwell, Mich.

Send a 2e. stamp for full particulars how to join
Goop NEWS Corresponding Club of Decatur, 111.
Percy Ewing, sec. We give more premiums for
getting new members than most clubs.

EPARTMENT.

—- eo —

{IMPORTANT.—This column is 7/7ee to all our readers.
We will not be responsible for transactious brought
about through notices in this columin. All offers must
be strictly exchange offers. We will not insert any
“for sale” advertisements, nor exchanges of fire-arms,
explosives, dangerous or worthless articles. If exchange
notices do not appear in a reasonable time, it may be
understood that they were not accepted. Address all
communications for this columm to “Exchange De-
partment.”)}

Dentin mata

BOOKS.-= Sidney £, Simpson, Box 64, Tuskegee,
Aln., will send a eloth-bound story book for 20 used
Columbian stamps above Ie. and 2c,

MISCLLLANEOUS.—A, LL. Lack, 40 West 61st
st., New York city. has 650 Columbus stamps, iron
cannon-ball, 2 pair Indian elubs, large magie lan-
tern and slides, piccolo and case, theater pro-
grammes and boys’ papers, for fishing-goods in
good condition. Will exchange piccolo’or lanteru
for good banjo. All offers answered.

STAMPS,—C. S. McCoy, Cadiz, Ohio, will ex-
change a packet of fine foreign stamps, worth over
$1, for 50 Columbian stamps above 2c. .

Morris Jacoby, 49 New st., Newark, N. J,, woulda
like to hear from stamp collectors who have stamps
to exchange. Send sheets and receive lis.

PAPERS,—Chas. Ade, 355 Fullerton st., Cleve
land, Ohio, has 160 boys’ papers to exchange for
best offers of the same.

STAMPS.—Chas, R. Russell, general delivery,
Kansas City, Mo., has a collection of 2,000 different
stamps in album to exchange for best offer.

BOOKS,—Edward Scanlon, North Easton, Mass..
has books by popular authors to exchange for story
papers. Write for particulars.

LIBRARLES-—Charley-M. Beaver, Red Cloud,
Neb., has 10 5-cent libraries, and 10 10-cent libraries,
to exchange for others, 55 eigarette cards, 80 dif-
ferent foreign stamps, 3800 1-cent Columbian
stam ps, 200 2-cent Columbian stamps, to exchange
for 5-cent or 10-cent libraries. Send list,

NOVELS—Adolf Boehm, 575 W. 25th street, Chi-

cago, Ill, has 455 and 10-cent novels to exchange.

for afont of type (script preferred) or best offer.
Also will give 50 different stamps or 5 novels, for
every cut of a postage stamp or of the GooD NgEws
Club badge.

STAMPS.—S, E. Goodrich, Girard, Ohio, has 500
old U.S. and Columbian stamps to exchange for a
g00d foot-ball, or electric motor of 1-16 horse power
or over. , ,

NOVELS.—Harry A. Day, Hinton, W. Va., has
40 5-cent novels to exchange for any volume of a
boy’s papers. Write for particulars.

I.. E. Martin, Marysville, California, will give
lessons in sleight-of-hand, for watch, typewriter
or mimeograph ;a fine trick for 20 Columbian
stamps other than one or two cent, or 10 Columbian
envelopes complete.

MISCELLAN EO US.—H. Benba, Box 124, Hodg-
enville, Ky. has 200 cards, 2 books, 1 small printing
press, 22 cal. rifle, relics from Lincoln’s birthplace,
and Indian relics for printing press not less than
5x7. All letters answered. :

READING MATLER—J. A. Hickey, 182 Richards
street, Brooklyn N. Y., has boys’ 5-cent comic libra-
ries toexchange for others of equal value. Send
list of libraries and receive the same,

TYPEWRITER, ETC.--Eugene Eskew, Den-
ver, 5. C., has boys’ papers to exchange for a geod
banjo; a typewriter to exchange for a good guitar.

BOXING-GLOVES.—Patsy Bocea, 1228 Dupont
at., San Francisco, Cal., has a pair of boxing-gloves
and 20 novels to exchange for a Safety bicycle.

BOOKS.—Albert Grumme, 909 Fifth st., Louis-
ville, Ky., has a number of story books and libraries
a exchange for telegraphing instrument or best
offer. :

STAMPS,—Walter Brown, 1416 Dickinson st.,
Philadelphia, Pa., will give 200 foreign stamps for
100 of the 8c., 4¢.. 5e., 6c. or 8c. Coluinbian stamps or

for a mixture of the same including the Ic. blue.

-PAPERS, LATHE, ETC.— Robert Mather
Bettesworth, care of Mather & Gravelle, Cedar
Rapids. Towa, has papers, lathe, etc., to exchange
gor a pair of opera glasses, All letters answered.

STAMPS.—Thos. H. Taylor, Richfield Springs, |

N. Y., will exchange 896 Columbian stamps and a
novel for a mustache and side whiskers. dark
brownorblack. > :
MISCELLANEOUS.—Ralph Williams, Grange,
N.C., will give one box of water color paints and

brush, one dollar’s worth of boys’ reading matter,
Jone printing outfit complete, and a harpyin first

class condition, for volume of boys’ papers,
BOOKS,—J. M. Coy, 1637 N. Salina st., Syracuse,
N. Y , has a book of sports and pastimes, 750 pages,
Arctic Discovery, French grammar and elements of
reading and oratory, for best offer.

STAM P&.—H. J. Tow, 323 Cutter st., Cincinnati,

O., will exchange foreign stamps for same or a eet |

of boxing-gloves. y
MISCELLANEOUS.—W. H. Van Vliet, 72 Park

tates stamps, worth $12 (225. varieties), a dollar
typewriter, A large amount of magical apparatus,

 

Confederate bills, foreign and old United States
coins and a Student camera, with outfit complete
(including tripod), for a tine pair of carrier-pigeons
and Canadian stamps,

MISCELLANEOUS,—Jamés Vaughan, 252 Acad-
emy st., Newark, N.J., has to exchange a pair of
skates, a pair of Indian clubs, a foot-ball, telescope
and other articles for mandolin, banjo or zither.
All letters answered.

PAPERS.—J. E. Woodruff, Box 273, Brandon, Vt.,
will give one novel or story paper for every copy of
a story paper. Write for particulars.

NOVELS.—C. Yonker, 86 William st., Little Fails,
N. Y., has novels to exchange for a pair of hoxing-
gloves or novels. Boxing-gloves preferred.

STAMPS.—Leon Halvin, 728 Washington at.,
Hoboken, N, J., will give 1,500 Columbian and for-
eign stamps, Guide to Elegant Writing, cost $1,
and 100 boys’ papers for a typewriter or camera.

OPERA GLASSES,—E, A. Nelson, 1801 W. Supe-
rior st., Duluth, Minn,, hasa pair of opera glasses
for a good catcher’s mitt.

PAPERS AND PRESS.—John W. King, 518
Grant st., Pittsburgh, Pa., has.a lot of boys’ papers
and printing press, with four fonts of type, for best
offer in rare stamps.

CURIOSI'LY.—C. W. Pierce, 176 Oxford st., Port-
land, Mé., has a New York Herald, (April, 1865,)
containing the surrender of Lee, death of President
Lineoln, and other war bews for best offer.

MISCELLAN EOUS.—Harry Ellis, 118 West
Main st., Avon, Mass, has printing. press, Student
camera and outfit to exchange for stamps or novels.

READING MATTER.—Adolph Rothenberg, 189
Orchard st., New York city, will give story papers
and books for best offer.

NOVELS.—Chas. R. Wright, Sewickley, P. 0-
Box 288 Allegheny County, Pa., has a lotof novels
to exchange for best offer.

——_—<—_ 6 << -—_——_

Qur Mail Bag.

etait Specie

Es Bo et on subjects of general interest only are
dealt with in the ‘Mail Bag.” Medical or legal
questions not answered. Goop News goes to press
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Comnounications intended for
this colunim should be addressed Goop Nrews ‘Mail
Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.)

solace

A.G., Albany, N. Y.—People speak of manufac-
tured essences and perfumes as though these were
products inferior to the fruit and flower extracts,
and a cheap imitation of them. The mistake is not
strange, but for all that itis a great mistake. he
art of the chemist can now reproduce almost any of
the fruit extracts and flower essences that are used
inthe kitchen or at the toilet, and this reproduc-
tion is notan imitation, but the article itself. The
ost delicate skill of the chemist can not detect the
difference between the product as made by nature
and that produced by art. The one is as healthy
for use as the other, and as pleasanteither to the
taste or smell. lo all intents and purposes the
two are identical.

R. C., San Francisco, Cal.—1. To make polish for
pianos and fine furniture, to one pint of spirits of
wine add one-quarter ounce each of gum copal and
sandarach and one ounce of shellac. Let the gums
be well bruised and sifted through a piece of mus-
lin. Putthe gums in a flask, pour on the spirits,
cork tightly, put in a warm place, and frequently
shake the bottle. In two or three days the gums
will be dissolved; then strain the mixture through
a piece of muslin and keep it tightly corked for use.
Apply with a soft’ rag and rub well: 2. We do not
know of anything to remove the while spots you
mention. :

Foolish, Chicago, Ill.—Mushrooms attain their
growth before appearing above the ground. If the
soil of a mushroom locality be carefully scraped off

in the fall of the year, there will often be found fall- |

grown mushrooms just beneath the surface, wait-
ing for a favorable night to shoot above.the earth.
A cool clear night in theantumn is the best, and
after one of these typical autumn nights, fully
grown mushroonis will be found in the greatest
abundance where, ou the evening before, not one
was to be seen. t

A. H. B., Bluefields, Nic.,C. A.—1. No premiums,
2. There are twenty-eight armored vessels in the
United States Navy, thirty-nine uwnarmored, six
torpedo boats and sixty tugs, school-ships, etc.
Great Britain has eighty-two armored and 137 un-
armored vessels, and about thirty other crafts in
hernavy. 3. We cannot answer your other ques-
tions.

Parents, Colfax, Wash.—1. No; red-haired people
are not, as arule, worse than other folks. although,
as arule, they are very impulsive, 2. Yes, we are
doing our best to make GOoop N&ws better each
week. 3. Our detective stories are all based on
facts. ’

Knownothing, San Francisco, Cal.—Tt sometimes
takes an expert to tell a counterfeit bill from one
which is genuine. If you are in doubt about a bill
in your possession you had better take it toa bank
and Jet the cashier examine it.

A. B.Z., Rahway, N. J.—We know of no cure for
blushing, excepting toovercome your bashfulness
in as manly a way a8 possible. It is no disgrace to
blush, and there are times when it is toone’s credit.

C. D. M., Chicago, 1il.—We do not give prizes for

stories, but buy them for whatever they are worth.
Our serials are supplied by the best talent to be
found in this line.

A.C. N., New York city.—1. We do not know the

author you mention. 2. Thanks for your compli- |

ments. 3. Donot send exchange notices too often.

Grump, Newport, Vt.—1. The GooD Ngws Li-
brary is out of print. 2. Yes.
what you mean. 4. Yes, this summér. o

C. H. B., no address.—1. You had better have the
gilt lettering done at home. 2. GoobD NEWS for two
years costs four dollars, postpaid.

M. Z.,. G. H, W. and others.—We cannot insert ex-
change notices excepting when at least the most
important articles are mentioned. _

Tom Truaxton, Marlboro, Mass.—1. We believe not,
although it may be on the way. 2. Watch the|
eighth page announcements,

_ Subscriber. no address.—You had better consult
an authority on egg collecting. Eggs can be kept
in a great number of ways. °

New Reader, Albany, N. Y.—Try buttermilk on |
your face. Useitin the morning and just before
retiring, letting it ary in. ; a Sas

X. Y. Z., New York.--Consult the back volumes
of GooD NEws for the full information wished.

F. L., PmBae ot eed. There is a board of direc-
tors, not a single director. 2. All nationalities.

Fuller Flip, New York city.—Watch the edito-
rial aunounements on the eighth page. —

_€. S., Richmondville, N. ¥Y.—Yes, the patents on
the ordinary telephone have expired. :

[Several communications left over to be answered
next week.) Seeder ae eae

8. We do not know |.

 

Tie mas,

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER.

minorities

The Girls Suffer Too.
_ Minnie—* You must come to our house Thurs-
day evening; now don’t forget.”

Nellie—"What’s going on?”

Minnie—"I am going to have a progressive
chewing gum party—a sort of a hard times
social, you know—one piece of gum does for
all.” 4

Good at Guessing.

Uncle George—“Are you good at guessing ?””

Little Dick—*‘Yes, indeed. I’m head in the
spelling elass.”

Botanical Lore.

Teacher (to botany class)—‘‘After a bean is
planted, a little shoot appears above the
ground, and this soon bursts into two leaves.
Now, what comes next?”

Bright Boy—‘'The bean- pole.”

Evils of Bicycling.

Old Friend—‘‘ You are becoming round.
shouldered—got a regular stoop. You don't
ride a bicycle, do you ?”’

Man of Family--‘‘N-o; but my boys ride
bicycles, and Iam paying for them on install-
meuts.”’

Scarcity of Silver. ”
_ Guest (facetiously)—“There are two spoons
in my teacup. What is that a sign of?”

Hostess’ Little Son—‘‘That’s a sign that
somebody else hasn't got any spoon.”

Nearly Right.

Little Boy (writing a composition)—“I want
to use that saying that’s in ourcopy-book, but L~
can’t remember it all: ‘Man glories im his
strength. Woman glories in ——’ What's the
rest, I wonder 2”

Little Girl—“‘Let me see.
her—her hat.”’

What He Remembered.

Bright Boy-—“‘Uncle George took me to hear
alecture on phrenology.”

Father—‘*‘Let we see if you can tell me what
you learned ?”

Bright Boy—“Some smart men have high
foreheads, and some smart men have low fore-
heads ; and some big fools have high foreheads,
and some big fools have low foreheads. That's
all I cam remember.”

A Familiar Game.

Little Dot—“Let us play keep house.” ‘

Little Ethel—“‘All wight. You petend you are
a—a lady and J am callin’ on you.”

Little Dot—“That’ll be fun. Now
and ask me how I like my new girl.”

THE BABY BEAVER. ,

Woman glories in

sit down

All kinds of animals do wonderful things
without ever being taught. Each in its own
line inherits an education—an education
which, in common language, goes by the
name of instinct. ; ae

A Canadian professor
convinced a friend who did not believe in this
inherited faculty. He boug beaver —
of a hunter, and sent it to his sceptical friend.

The creature became a great pet in the
house, but showed no signs of wanting to
build a dam, until, one Monday morning, a
leaky pail full of, water was put on the foe
of the back kitchen. The beaver was there. —

He was only a baby. to be sure; but the
moment he saw the water oozing out of a
crack in the pail, ‘he scampered into the yard,
roteee in a chip, and Hepes building his
dam.

His owner was called, and watched the little
fellow, very much astonished by what he
saw. He gave orders to have the pail left
where it was, and the industrious beaver kept
at his work four weeks, when he had built a
solid dam all round the pail.

 

 

 

 

“Almost as ©
Palatableas Milk”

This is a fact with regard

to Scott’s Emulsion of Cod
Liver Oil, The difference
between the oil, in its plain

state, is very apparent. In

Scott's Emulsion
you detect no fish-oil taste.
As it is a help to diges-
tion there is ”o after effect —
except good effect. Keep in.
mind that Scott’s Emulsion
is the best promoter of flesh
and strength known - tc
science. ag er eens ee
Prepared by Scott & Bowne, N. Y. All druggists.

.

 

 
“ae

Cuoiiy—"'It’s easy enough to rise in the

world if you once find an opening.

An opening presents itself, and Cholly finds
himself right ‘‘in it.”

 

 

 

AN = Rag ea

 

BY LARRY LEE.
oe
BILLY AND THE. SUMMER
BOARDERS.
Sar RS. HUNKER had‘ got the idea

into her head that she could earn
the price of a new parlor carpet

=

:

| future,”

|

|
}

j after Billy to show
‘hunting and fishing were, and

“TOS by keeping summer boarders, and |

three—two ladies and a young gentleman
-—were expected the next day,
Billy went down to the depot with the

biggest wagon, and it was lucky that he
did so, for both of the ladies had three |

_ trunks each, though they didn’t
to stay but two weeks.
Billy sized up the crowd at a glance,

The girls were two sweeping butterflies | g
Sixth avenue shop, and the ' of the place.

from some
fellow was a howling dude, who sold rib-
bons for a living

“Phew !" thought Billy. “Here’s barrels
of fun, or else I miss my guess!”

The dude, who staggered under a-heavy | but dee

cane and the name of Fitzroy DeJhones,
had nothing but a small grip.

But Billy made him help on the trunks

intend

|

.

~ by asking him right in front of the ladies, |

or, dear Fitzy couldn’t

And, of course,
hiled on him.

refuse while the
“Be Jove! but

don’t cherknow !”
And he puffed and

asthmatic engine on an up-grade.

he exclaimed,

Finally the trunks were got on the

wagon, and they drove to the farm-house,

Billy learned that the two girls were Billy, pointing to a
Dainty and ground.

reat friends named: Miss
Miss Lush, and that Fitzroy had met
them on the train.

And the dude thought he had canght a
rich mash. ;

Mrs, Hunker took the three in charge,
and Billy wandered down to the barn.

they’re beastly heavy, them without any trouble.” -

blowed like an lif

|

“Well, what has marm loaded us up

with now?” he asked himself,
to live with those people two weeks, I'll

have such a pain all over I won’t be. able}

to stand.”

The boarders spread themselves all over

the place, and made themselves so con-
spicuous that even the old man gave
them a wide berth. 5

One day the two young ladies insisted
that Billy should take them to a certain
spot to gather ferns.

Now, Billy didn’t want to go at all,
but Mrs. Hunker made him.

“Never -mivd, I’ll get square,” said
Billy to himself.

They were soon in the woods, and the}
two guthered about all that the three of now?” asked B

them could carry.
“Lots of snakes about here,” said Billy,
presently.

“Tf I have}

| want to,”

their lives, and that they would never set |
foot into the woods again.

“Get me to do something when I don’t
muttered Billy to himself. |
“Reckon they’ll leave me alone in the

}
|

And they did.

| same question being put, this one, after some
| hesitation, said:

was waited upon by another Jehu, when, the

“Flalf an inch, your honor.”’
‘Call next week,’’? was the reply,

 

 

But Fitzroy DeJhones was nearly as; ing personage, having the appearance of hon- |

bad as the girls had been. He was always

he asked

tired all over,
“I must fix Fitzy.” he said to himself,
“If I don’t, my conscience will forever |
reproach me.” |
Lhe following day the dude borrowed |
Mr. Hunker’s gun with which to go|
hunting, and he asked Billy to go along. |
“All right, I'll go,” said Billy, “What{
do you want fo bag, fox or woodechuck ?”
“Ah, I thought I might stwike a beah
or a deah,” replied DeJhones.
“All right,” said Billy.

bear or a deer within a hundred iiles |

But such a little
him any,

He led the dude about half a mile from |
the house to where there was a narrow |
p cat-tail swamp. |

“Plenty of deer just beyond that |
clump of bushes on the other side,” he |
said, innocently. “What you want to do)
is to stand right at this crossing and fire |
off a shot in the air, That will make |
them wonder what is up, and you can bag |

matter didn’t trouble |

fitzy, who had never hunted in his
e, took in every word.

He put an extra heavy charge into the
yun,

“Now, stand right here,” cautioned
slippery bit of
“The echo is best there.”

“Ah, [ see, be Jove!” said DeJhones.

‘He placed himself into position.

Then he pulled the trigger.

Bang!

There was a report like an earthquake,
and the gun kicked like a mule. Over
went DeJhones backward into the swamp,

In two minutes he was mud from head
to foot.

Those beautiful trousers and that stun-

| ning necktie were ruined forever.

1
|
cried,

4

“Snakes!” cried both of the girls, in|

concert,
snakes,” :

“You do?” asked Billy, in pretended
surprise. “I loye snakes. And, by the
way, there is one now,”
And he pointed to a

“Oh, do let us get out! [ detest

dead limb not far

off. ;

Both of the girls gave a yell, and threw
down the ferns they carried.

In their hurry to get away from the
spot, they tumbled Over each other, and
in rising, their dresses were nearly torn
off by the rocks, ge ;

And all ‘this while they thought that
snake was on top of them, ready to plant
his aoe into them at the tirst chance,

Finally they dusted from the woods,
and with their dresses half off their

 

backs, made for the house, vowing that’

they had had the narrowest escape of

|
}

‘sir

“Help me! Help me,'Mr. William,” he
“T am in a dused fix!”

_ Billy let him flounder in the mud for
five minutes longer, and then grabbing
the end of the gun-barre!, towed De-
Jhones ashore,

The sight of the dude would have

turned a comic valentine green with envy,
“Mesuit, me beautiful suit ruined for-
ever!” he moaned,
think of going buntin

“Want to go after those deer and bears

illy, innocently.
PEE look was enough to give one
a fit, f ;
“No,” he moaned.
lon’t cherknow !”

Then Billy steered the unfortunate
back.

DeJhones and the girls left the next
day, and that scamp Billy breathed freely
once more. "

—_—__~>—-+

ON THE SAFE SIDE.

ye

“T wanter go home,

A livery-stable keeper lately advertised for
a coachman, and numerous applications were

| made for the situation. Among other ques-

tions put by the advertiser to a man who ap-
plied, was:

“Flow near any dangerous precipice, in case
of necessity, could you drive?”’
“Why,” replied the applicant, ‘an inch,

He was told to call again in the course of a
day or two, In the interim the advertiser

| by the waiter what he would have for the
He knew well enough that there wasn’t | next course,

| cream.,”’

| without the baked. apples, and without the

“Oh, why did I ever}

 

Good News. Binder

esty in his physiognomy, waited on the livery-

him where the best! stable keeper, and was asked the same ques-

| tion, when, with a look of apparent simplicity,

|so many foolish questions that Billy got | he quaintly observed:
|

“‘T can’t exactly tell, sir, for I always likes

| to keep out of harm’s way.”’ .

replied the master, “‘you’re the |
immediately. |

Laan

‘Then, ”?
man for me,’ and engaged him
——_—_ > 0--—>-
ALL THERE.

The joker who makes a-bad joke deserves to
have it turned on him, as it very often is.
A man who dined at a restaurant was asked

“You may bring me baked apples and

“Yes, sir.”

“Only let us have them without the cream.”

“Yes, sir.” :

‘And without the apples, please.’’” —

The waiter disappeared, and soon returned
with a plate on his salvér, on which lay a
spoon.and a little powdered sugar. ‘The cus-
tomer looked surprised. ;

““Tt’s your baked apples and cream, sir,

cream,”’ said the waiter.
The item figured on the bill just the same,
and the customer had to pay it.

 

 

 

 

 

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