ents 10» | the jm- Lions 1. , alll ims ally lf in first pime oats ‘ si r ungie ers dows al ew oe 4 ft eS ee AC ei sake VES Gas Es. ae — ‘ SEN y ag Ge YS ae Vill YY) jo wa Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Yeur 1894, by Street & Smith. in the Office of the Librarian of C Entered as Second-ciass Matier ai ihe New Yori:, N.Y.. Posi- Office. et eee eee ee ate eee eee ee ed eee ee ee ee Srreer & Surra, Publishers, 3L Rose Street, New York. . i seit ean Tom TRUXTON'S OCEAN TRIP: OR; THE ISLAND OF PALMS. BY HARVEY HICKS, Author of “Mat Merriman Abroad,” “Tom Truxton's Schooldays,”’ ete. (“Tom TRUXTON’sS OCEAN TRIP” was comnienced last week. ] New York, August 4, 1804 | was clad proclaimed that he had experienced | {the rough side of the world since leaving TOM OVERHEARS AN INTERESTING conveRrsa-| Pickle Academy. TION: They had evidently been engaged in an animated conversation, probably heightened by the presence of a black bottle which CHAPTER IV. 7\HE man nearest the door of the cabin }? was Captain Scroggins. Seated next : Scroggins consulted very frequently. to the skipper was Nicholas Flint, an| All this Professor Pickle saw with one evil smile upon his attenuated face. | rapid glance. Turning hurriedly to Tom he On the opposite side was Cyrus Holt, while | whispered : cupying a chair at the end of the table| ‘This is simply marvelous. We could ind the professor’s former pupil, Rufus | not have a better opportunity of capturing Ane, Flint and that young raseal Kane. Let us The latter seemed much older in appear- | return to shore and get the police.” “e, and the shabby garments in which he| “Wait a moment. Perhaps we can over- JUST AS SCROGGINS AND HIS COMPANIONS RUSHED UP, hear their conversation,” “‘Fhis looks very suspicious.” “That is so. What business can those fellows have on board this bark ?” “We will try to find out.” Leaning over, Tom gently felt of the sky- light. To his joy, he found that he could raise it, Inch by inch, he elevated the sash until it was half a foot from the coaming. Then getting upon his knees, Tom bent his ear to the aperture. The professor followed his example, and the two listened intently to the conversation wafted up from below. Scroggins was speaking, and his voice, husky with the years spent amid the salty replied Tom. stale ie tea naan eat che ca eae ee el eae ee a a eee ee Subseription Price, * 2.50 per Year. Tew WAN DERER-NHXT WHEE. ongress, Washingion, D. C. a a ee ee al No, 222, blasts of many a gale, came plainly to the silent listeners over his head. ‘So ye are with me, then, eh, mates?” he roared. Then, thumping the brawny hand, he added : “It'll be the chance of yer life, mind that. What J described to ye, I seed with these two eyes, and if ye come along ye can have share and share alike. Then, ag’in, there’s the chance to settle old scores with them people on the yacht.” “That is what we are after, mainly, cap. tain,” spoke up Nicholas Flint, rubbing his hands. ‘Yes, we want revenge,” added Cyrus table with one TOM LAUNCHED HIMSELF THROUGH THE AIR TOWARD THE NEAR-BY TUG! GooDp NEw Ss. Holt, vindictively. ‘I want to repay that young upstart, Tom Truxton, for the years I spent in prison.” “And I would give half my life to have all three of them in my power for one moment,” added Rufus Kane, in such a ferocious voice that his companions, hard- ened in crime as they were, glanced at him in partial disgust. ; “Well, ye can git satisfaction in due time, mates, Just keep alongside o’ me, and I'll fix ye.” <‘We are very fortunate in running across you, captain,” said Nicholas Flint. ‘*When I made my escape, at last, from the asylum, where that young dog had placed me, I was almost discouraged.” ‘You would be there yet if it hadn’t been for me,” remarked Cyrus. ‘And I guess I deserve a little credit,” in- terposed Kane. “Yes, and I am thankful to both of you.’ “Tt isn’t thanks we want, but money,” replied Rufus, brutally. ‘Ye'll git that, if you only do as I tell ye, and jine the Night-Hawk,” said Captain Scroggins, taking another pull at the black bottle, “Ag I was saying, we were very lucky in crossing your path,” continued Flint, impa- tiently. ‘‘When we reached New York, after the escapé, I didn’t know which way to turn. I had heard about this foolish ex- pedition of old Pickle, and I was afraid they would leave the country without our having a chance at them.” ‘J ynderstand they sail to-morrow night,”’ said Cyrus. “Yes, that is their intention.” ‘We'll be right behind them, mates. That is, if ye conclude to trust yer luck aboard this hooker. When ye taekled me for in- formation, after I left the yacht, this after- noon, I thought you would turn out to be fellers arter my own heart. Will ye ship, mates?” “You say you need three men?” “Yes. I have seven bully boys, but I must have more to sail the bark. We will © down in ballast, and return with a hold ull of the stuff. What d’ye say ?” “Where is this island?” asked Nicholas ‘Flint, reflectively. “Ye'll know when ye git there, and not before,” replied the skipper, bluntly. “I’m not giving my secrets away, Iy Man. If ye’d had as much trouble, and such a scare as I did, ye'd refuse too.” “Scare? What do you mean?” “Ye'll find out in good time.” ‘Js it about the island ?” . “Yes; but ye needn't try to pump me. Jim Scroggins can be as tight as an oyster when he chooses.” ‘What about that onion, or bulb, you brought home?” asked Cyrus Holt, curi- ously. ‘‘How did you know it was a rare specimen. You certainly don’t look like a man who would dabble in botany.” ‘What do yer ‘take me for, a fool?” roared the skipper in disgust. ‘I had a sailor on board who had gone to sea for his health. He found it—at the bottom of the ocean; ho!“ho! ho! He was a college chap, and the day we was ashore he picked up that there onion and carried it aboard. I was going to eat the blamed thing, but he said as how it was very valu- able, and would sell for a big lump of money. And so it did.” «It's a pity you didn’t get a cargo of them.” “T would have, but the storm I was tell- ing you about came up, and the next morn- ing the island was gone. - Well, are you going to ship or not? I am all ready to sail, and if ye’ll sign articles we'll pull out when the yacht sails.” “Tt will be share and share alike?” Yes.” yacttt” you will help us capture the ht ?” “Yes, and give ye a hand to make them walk the plank, if you wish.” “Well, we'll join forces with you, cap- tain.” “Good. We'll have a drink all around ’ Captain Scroggins was suddenly inter- rupted by the sound of splintering glass, and a large fragment struck the table di- rectly in front of him. In an instant the cabin was in an uproar. Springing to his feet the skipper rushed into an adjoining state-room, and instantly _Teappeared with a revolver clutched in his hand, “On deck, mates!’ he shouted. person has been listening,” «Tl give the eavesdrdppers a taste of this,’ exclaimed Rufus Kane, snatching a knife from a rack over the table. “Together they rushed up the steps, reach- ing the outer deck just in tame to see two ‘ “Some ’ : ; figures hastily disappear over the side near | the gangway. “There they go!’ cried Nicholas Flint, indicating the direction with his hand. “There is a pair of them, and they are try- ing to escape.” “We'll soon stop them,” replied Scrog- gins, cocking the revolver. Rushing to the side he peered over and saw a row-boat just disappearing in the gloom. “Come back here, or I'll fire!” he roared. “Fire away, Captain Scroggins,” called out a voice from the darkness. Frantic with rage, the skipper pulled the trigger of his weapon. There was a sharp report, the flash of burning powder illu- mined the darkness for one brief second, then a mocking laugh came from the direc- tion in which the boat had vanished. Scroggins was in the act of firing again when he felt a hand placed on his shoulder with no gentle force. “Ten thousand claimed Nicholas Flint. harbor, man.” “Let go of my shoulder, I'll larn the sharks to come snooking aboard my craft. Let go of me, I say !” ‘Don’t be a fool,” replied Flint, harshly. ‘Keep cool. You'll need all of your nerve before many minutes.” “What d’ye mean ?” “Do you know who that was who shouted your name from the boat ?” “No.” “Tt was Tom Truxton.” A ery of surprise came from not only the captain but from Cyrus Holt and Rufus Kane as well, “What!” stormed the former. ‘“‘D'ye mean to say the young feller wot owns the yacht was aboard just now ?” “Yes, ’'d know his voice among a thou- sand,” replied Flint, grimly. ‘‘He was not only aboard of the Night-Hawk three min- utes ago, but he was listening at the cabin skylight.” “And he overheard our talk ?” ‘Beyond a doubt.” Just then Rufus, who had been examin- ing the skylight, returned with the informa- tion that it had been raised from the coam- ing. ‘Tt had been held up by a stick which was carried away during a roll of the bark,” he added. “We are in a precious pickle now,” growled Scroggins. “There is only one thing to do,” replied Nicholas Flint. ‘What is that ?” “Get under way at once. You said you were ready tosail. You have your crew, so up anchor and let us get to sea without de- lay.” “By the boots! skipper. Running forward he routed out the men from the forecastle, and within a few mo- ments, the sullen clank of the anchor chain as it grated through the hawse-pipes sounded on the night air. demons!” fiercely ex- ‘Do not alarm the I’ll do it,” shouted the CHAPTER V. TOM BOARDS THE, BARK. Professor Pickle. They had listened with breathless interest to the conversation carried on in the cabin of the Night-Hawk, and just as Nicholas Flint had stated his determination to ship under Captain Scroggins, a slight lurch of the bark caused the skylight to fall with a crash, Tom was leaning upon the glass at the time, and the force of the fall caused his elbow to penetrate the fragile partition. Quick as a flash, Tom sprang to his feet. “To the boat!” he exclaimed, running toward the gangway. ‘Jump over the side, professor. If they catch us, our lives will not be worth a moment’s purchase.” J is is now time to return to Tom and (os It was evident Professor Pickle was of the: same opinion, as he was directly at Tom's heels when that agile youth scrambled down into the cutter. ; The two men manning it instantly real- ized that something was up. Rapidly working their oars, they left the side of the bark, and had reached a comparatively safe distance when Scroggins and the rest ap- peared over the low rail. What followed has been described. “Whew! that was a close shave,” said Tom, grimly. ‘They came very near catch- ing us.” ‘That they did,” replied the professor, breathing heavily from the unwonted exer- tion. “Ah! they must intend getting under way at once. Do you hear the clank of the cap- stan ?” \ “They are heaving short,” spoke up one of the oarsmen. “And there goes a signal for a tug.” ‘We must stop them in some way,” Professor Pickle, hastily. “Row ashore,” cried Tom. ‘Quick, men ; make for the ferry landing on Staten Island, We'll telephone for the New York police boat.’ Seizing a spare oar, Tom assisted the sailors, and the light cutter/was soon spin- ning over the waters of the bay toward the adjacent shore, ; ‘The professor took control of the tiller. He was hardly an expert, but he contrived to steer a moderately straight course. As stated before, the night was very dark. The sky had become overcast, and rain threatened. Along the shore of Staten Islknd numerous twinkling lights proclaimed the location of divers vessels at anchor or tugs awaiting a call for a tow. Not far in advance of the row-boat a red light came tossing toward it. Then a green light suddenly appeared in close conjunc- tion with the previous one. \ The professor noticed them, but the sight did not inspire in his breast the slightest suspicion of danger. He admired the coloxs, and that was all. Rapidly Tom and the sailors labored at the oars, with their backs turned to the ap- proaching lights. The professor held the tiller with a firm grasp and steered directly for the shore. Suddenly one of the oarsmen glanced over hisshoulder, He instantly saw that of which the professor was blissfully ignorant. The lights were on a tug bearing down upon them and not a dozen yards away. Uttering a hoarse shout of alarm, the frightened sailor sprang past Tom and seized the helm. Giving it a swing, he brought the cutter broadside to the rapidly nearing tug, at the same time shouting to the others to row for their lives. ‘f'oo late! , Forced along under the impetus of her powerful engines, the tug struck the frail sides of the cutter with a resounding crash, and in an instant the occupants were strug- gling amid the white spume of the tug’s wake, For the second time that day our hero found himself compelled to battle with the water of New York bay. Regaining the surface after the first plunge, he struck out boldly after the tug. A moment later he came in contact with some one just rising to the top. It was the professor, and from the feeble strokes that the scientist was giving it was evident he could not swim very well. ‘“Help-p!”’ he sputtered, threshing the water wildly with his arms. Hastily grasping him bythe shoulder with one hand, ‘om sternly bade him cease struggling. — “We are all right,” our hero added, en- couragingly. ‘The tug is returning to pick us up.” He had seen the light at the stern cease moving, then become larger as the craft swung around and steamed toward them. A hoarse hail came to the ears of those in the water. “Ahoy ! where are you?” . One of the sailors swimming close to Tom replied, and within afew minutes the tug bore down upon them. The work of rescue did not take long. Greatly exhausted and dripping from head to foot, the four former oceupants of the ill-fated cutter were hauled on board by the deck-hands. 3 “Where is the captain of this tug?” asked Tom. A dark figure stepped down from the pilot-house and approached the group. “What in blazes do you mean by rowing around the harbor without a light?” came the demand, gruffly. ‘ “Are you the captain?” asked our hero. “Yes.” “Well, we want your services at once.” “You do, eh? That's cool, I must say. I think I have just rendered you pretty fair service.” “Acknowledged,” replied Tom, impa- tiently. ‘But what I mean is, that I desire to charter this tug for a couple of hours.” The captain scratched his head, and cast a glance at the shadowy outlines of the Night-Hawk, a few cable-lengths away. “T was going out to answer that fellow’s signal for a tow,” he said, presently. “And I don't like to lose the job.” “What will he pay you?” “According to where he wants to go. If he is bound past the Narrows, it'll be about thirty dollars, I reckon.” “Well, I can tell you that he is going to sea, if he can get there,” said Tom. ‘But I am going to stop him, if I can.” “You are?” “Yes; there is an escaped criminal on board, He must not be allowed to leave said towing a bark. this harbor. Take us ashore, so that we © telephone to the New York police boat, aa@y I'll pay you double the sum you stated.” — “Who are you?’ asked the captain, calle tiously. “Qh, you needn't be afraid about the money,” replied Tom, taking a well-fille pocket-book from his coat. “Here are sixty dollars,” he added, extend- ing several bills. “That's prompt payment, my boy. go ye.” Entering the pilot-house, he gave the e gine-room bell a vigorous pull, and headed for the ferry wharf. Within a half-ho Tom and the professor were ashore. 3 Communications with the police depat ment in New York elicited the discouraging information that the patrol boat had left 0B another errand. “Take several Staten Island police, and board the bark on a tug,” advised the se geant, at the other end of the wire. “Hold them in the name of the law, and we will join you before long.” a “We'll try it,” exclaimed Tom, decisively. “We can take the same tug,” suggeste the professor. ‘ “Go to the nearest station, and get ™ many officers as you can, while I secure th tug,” directed Tom, hastily. a Professor Pickle succeeded in securing th] services of four policemen, with whom e joined Tom at once. ; As they boarded the craft, at the end the wharf, another tug steamed slowly pas The creaking of blocks al the flapping of loosened canvas indicated that her crew was hard at work prepar for sea. Tom had entered the pilot-house with captain. Snatching up a night-glass, | leveled it at the dim olitlines of the pass! vessel. a “It’s the Night-Hawk,” he exclaimed, ® second later. “Run alongside of her once, or we'll be too late.” “Just keep cool, young fellow,” grow. the skipper, in reply. ‘We'll overhw them in a jiffy.” At that moment the professor and sergeant in charge of the police squad tered the apartment. “There is no chance of mistake in affair?” asked the latter. ‘You are posit? the man you are after is on board of th vessel ?”” : “Yes, and you will find him a prev tough customer,” replied ‘Tom. ‘You F better advise your men to have theif ® volvers in readiness. The scoundrels ® board of that bark will not submit withow! struggle.” 4 “Jf you succeed in capturing them promise to make it worth your while,” 8% Professor Pickle. ‘There is a man naw Nicholas Flint, and a youth of about B® teen years of age, on her. For each pay five hundred dollars.” “They are as good as captured already, replied the officer, grimly, ‘They won dare resist an officer of the law.” ; “You don’t know them,” remarked To rather contemptuously. a “Stand by, you fellows,” sung out captain. ‘We'll be within hailing dist in a moment.” ee Tom left the pilot-house with the | geant, and, taking his stand near the prepared for the struggle which he 4 was impending. He realized that former guardian would resist capture last. Even with the police at his com™ our hero felt very dubious of the result “I wish the New York patrol boat appear about now,” he muttered, Bt himself. “We don’t need it,” replied the sere importantly. ‘We will walk right 8 of that craft, and have them in irons , you can say Jack Robinson.” Tom did not feel the confidence of companion, but he refrained from 2° % ing. They were now within hailing tance. Shaping his hands like a trum our hero shouted at the bop of his voie@* “Ahoy the Night-Hawk !” zi “What d’ye want?” came the TeF Captain Scroggins’ fog-horn voice. a “Signal your tug to stop; we W 7 ¥ speak with you.” “An’t got time.” : “Lay too, confound you!” shouted. sergeant, inarage. ‘Iam an officer jaw, and I wan’t to board you.” “Go to blazes! If you try oe aboard this hooker, I'll dump you Lies briny, officer or no officer.” {he ( “Run alongside, captain,” howled do liceman ‘Make for the gangwa@y:)), hear? * I’llshow those people what ©” can do.” In obedience to the skipper’s touch m0" wheel the tug \sheered close to the ©, bark. Yom and the sergeant were aaa GrooDpD can and ‘d sal the lied snd- rll en- ded our yart- rig ton and ger: {old will ely. sted L as the the , he dof past, an ated ring the he sing ty) BR aa ig how, 3 the ape? ger bows a new a zz tbe ¢ tb? a , at ig a boarding my craft like that?” roared the ” i a | Point of springing into the Night-Hawk’s Tigging when she lurched away leaving a broad space between the two craft. At the same moment Captain Scroggins’ Squat figure appeared at the gangway. Leveling it shouted : ‘Sheer off, ye bloody pirates, or I'll fire +his is an honest vessel, and I won't hav: it boarded by nobody.” “You have an escaped criminal on board Ramed Nicholas Flint,” called out Tom, ‘Surrender him, or take the conse- hotly. quences.” “There an’t any person aboard except the Tegular crew,” replied Scroggins. “I know What ye are. You're crew,” “Don’t waste any further words with him,” whispered Tom. ‘‘Get your men up here, and we'll jump on board and take Chances.” “T'll show him what the law is,” blus- tered the sergeant, but he did not make any Move toward massing his men as T’om had directed, Seeing that he need expect but little aid om the fellow, Tom set his teeth with grim termination, and waiting until the tug ad been brought alongside once more, Made a leap for the mizzen rigging. CHAPTER VI. STARTLING NEWS. a wT was a daring attempt, but proved suc- if cessful, and a few seconds later ‘l'’om (S, found himself on the after deck of the bark confronting Captain Scroggins, One rapid glance to the rear showed him ®t he was alone. Not one of the police ad followed, and to make it worse, the tug ad dropped astern and was at least ten Yards away. “What d’ye mean, you young scalawag, ‘Kipper, making a rush for him. e stopped suddenly, however, and then acked away from the frowning muzzle of ®m’s revolver. “I have come for your passengers, and I Mean to have them,” coolly replied the Youth “You will save trouble, Captain rogsins, by handing them over to the Police,” “T tell yer there an’t no persons on this aft except my regular crew,” blustered € skipper. “You are not telling the truth. I saw tee old acquaintances Of mine in your in not two hours ago.” Bho ben yer was spying down my skylight, “Yes.” “Well, they went ashore before we left © anchorage.” Ould this be true? cr th Tom hesitated for he brief moment, and then the remem- pence of the compact made in the cabin ‘turned to him. No; Nicholas Flint and P Companions must be on board. th I don’t believe you, captain. I know = you have the criminals hidden in some tt of the vessel. Produce them, or it will r © worse for you.” it, 1 tell ye I an’t got them, and that settles 9: ‘The best thing you can do is to " yer blamed tug alongside and leave this ker,” replied the skipper. °M saw that but little good would come the present argument, and he resolved Act decisively without further delay. asty glance around showed that they Maki Well past the Narrows and rapidly le, 28 for the open sea. A rift in the sui- Clouds overhead had permitted the rays fer Reng ull moon to percolate down upon the . ae its aid Tom saw that the tug had again thee Up to within seven or eight yards of the S@ngway. On her forward deck stood Nee and Professor Pickle. ia. ctter was gesticulating to the sergeant, The ly begging him to proceed to action. is decks of the bark were singularly n te men, only one solitary sailor being Ming Near the forecastle. Of Nicholas Seen ‘Nd the others not a sign could be p Ifky » stern, Shaan’ did so a figure darted out from the Prone ® of the after companion-way and ken? “Pon him. Tom was completely r ane Wares. The shock of the encoun- Stan, co him to reel backward, and in an Y th Captain Scroggins had grasped him The, throat. j | te » : a the-police patrol boat would only ap- We'd have this craft searched in a Muttered Tom, turning to glance He had a pistol clutched in his right hand. at the party on the tug, he boarding-house Shanghiers, and you want to steal my purpose of arranging his affairs before the far as the ferry landing in New York, while Chester remained on board to receive the stores. on South street, where sea captains congre- gate. sailing master for an extended trip to south- ern latitudes, and in a brief space of time pery deck, and then one of them broke away ond ran to the port gangway. It was 'Tom. By his agility he had managed to wrest still in great danger. revolver had been knocked from his hand rendering him entirely defenseless. excitement of the struggle Tom had failec to recognize the new-comer. that it was his old-time enemy—Rufus Kane > clusively that Scroggins had not told the truth. The'three conspirators were still or the bark. fend himself. .He the Saw the top of their speed. The sailor near the forecastle hurrying aft. use if when an opportunity presented itself, Tom saw at once that he could not hope main yard-arm to the pin-rail beneath his feet. Hastily stooping over, he loosened the rope, and, just as Scroggins and his. com- panions rushed up, ‘om launched himself through the air toward the near-by tug ! Luckily, one of the policeman—an intelli- gent fellow—had seen the maneuver in time to spring forward. He reached a spot. just, in front of the pilot-house as Tom came whirling over the rail. Opening his arms, the policeman grasped the youth, and together they tumbled upon the deck, breathless but safe. A hoarse cry of baftled fury came from the skipper of the Night-Hawk, then his voice was heard giving the order to make gail. In a very few moments the bark was covered with canvas, which, spread to a strong breeze, blowing from off the quarter, sent her surging through the water, Springing to his feet, Tom looked ahead, and saw that the tug which had been towing the bark was now free. ‘The towing hawser had been cast off, and the vessel was now under her own sails. The professor joined him, trembling with excitement, ‘Thank Heaven, you are safe, Thomas !” he cried, grasping the youth’s hand. “It was a close call, sir,” replied Tom, smiling. ‘They came pretty near catching me that time.” “You are a plucky fellow, I must say, young man,” said the sergeant of police, coming up. “If you had been more so, we’d have caught those scoundrels,” muttered our hero. ’ The officer overheard him, and reddened: but he refrained from replying. “I suppose we will have to give up the chase,” remarked the professor, impotently shaking his fist after the rapidly disappear- ing bark. “Yes, we can’t do anything with the force we have,” replied Tom. ‘If the police boat had joined us we would have captured them. We miglit as well return to Staten Island now.” The tug captain was given the necessary instructions, and within a couple of hours Tom and the professor were again on board the yacht. The escape of Nicholas Flint and his companions was a sore disappoint- ment, but when the three friends talked over the matter that night they found some satisfaction in the fact that their enemies were out of the country, “I guess we'll rnn across them down South, somewhere,” remarked Chester. “Tt hope so,” replied our hero, grimly. “It is fortunate we purchased those two Maxim guns, and the six-pounder,” said Professor Pickle, thoughtfully. “We “may have trouble, so it is well to be prepared Lor: st! Thoroughly tired out by the excitement of the previous twelve hours, Tom and his companions retired to rest. They were up bright and early the following day. There yas much to do, and all three set to work at once. The professor returned to the city forthe final departure. Tom accompanied him as Our hero went direct to a certain resort He mentioned his desire to engage a tants. Vas a short struggle, the three com- Surged back and forth over the slip- had half a dozen old ski him. NEWS. S539 Selecting one—a bronzed, stalwart mar-| face. ‘‘I want to know what kind of a sale iner named Silas Brett—he bade him report | you call this?”’ on board the yacht at once with his outfit. ‘‘What kind of a sale??? es “I can’t give you much time,” added} ‘Yes, Sir; is it an auction? himself free from his assailants, but he was In the scrimmage the In the He how saw The presence of the latter proved con- Panting from his exertion, Tom climbed upon the port railing, and prepared to de- skipper and Rufus rush to the ladder leading down to the main deck, and then make for him at! also came He held a heavy iron belay- ing-pin in one hand, evidently intending to to contend successfully with such an array of forces. Glancing about, he noticed a stout rope leading from the end of the the office, but sat down as suddenly. ing: the boy???’ Tom, with a smile. at daybreak.” ; “Time enough, sir,” replied Brett. l necessary.” Grasping the opportunity, Tom made a flying visit up town to a certain residence not far from the park: He found Violet at home, and, after. announcing his early de- parture, reluctantly left for the yacht, tak- ing Mary Ann's best wishes with him. The following morning the spread her white wings, and passed out i voyage to southern seas. The new sailing- master proved expert at his profession, and handled the craft in a thorough manner. Nothing of interest occurred during the trip to Cape Town. Day after day came and went, with an interminable monotony of sea and sky. THe tropics were reached } | sweltered under a burning sun, with no breeze to send her on her course. Then the trade winds appeared, and wafted by these, the Explorer finally sailed into Table Bay, dropping anchor in front of Cape Town. Tom lost little time in going ashore. He had the address of Violet’s relative, and pro- ceeded straight to the office mentioned. Making himself known, he asked if the young lady had arrived at the health. “Iam sorry to tell you, young man, that she hasn’t reached here yet,” replied Mr. Dodge, Violet's uncle. “What? Not arrived yet?’ exclaimed Tom, in surprise. ‘Why, she was to leave New York sixty days ago to-day.” “And she did leave. I have received a telegram to that effect, but the steamer is greatly overdue. There are grave doubts concerning her safety. I was just going to the steamship office to inquire for news. Come with me.” Greatly depressed by the startling and totally unexpected news, Tom followed Mr. Dodge from the office. On reaching the street, he saw Chester Gage just turning an adjacent corner, The lad was running, and seemed to be laboring under intense excitement. Cape in good (TO BE CONTINUED. ) t+ — [This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. | THE BOY FROM THE WEST: OR, The Struggle for the White Horse Mine. ethics By HARRY DANGERFIELD. - (“THE BOY FROM THE WEST” was commenced in No. 215, Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. } -+ CHAPTER XXII. MATCHING WITS. c <2 TSAURIES!” FE Cyrus Stark snarled out the word, ‘A s,) as his eyes fell on the now thoroughly ok hated boy and the man behind him. ‘*How do you do, Stark,’’ greeted Mr. Van Worth, smoothly. ‘‘l trust we are not in- truding?”’ ‘‘ Not at all, sir,’’ promtly assured Ratcliff, who knew and respected Roger, speaking be- fore the discomfited Stark could utter a word. ‘*You are quite welcome. ’’ ‘This is merely a little matter of business, and you know business can always wait,’’ said Stark, sarcastically. “I inferred you were here on_bsuiness, happening to hear your offer as we entered,’’ returned Mr. Van Worth, ignoring the real cut intended in the words of the other man. ‘‘My young friend, here, is a/ Westerner, and knowing something ahout the Texas Pan Han- | dle, has taken a fancy to make an offer for | the tract across which I hear the D., T. and F. W. is going to run.” ‘*Do you mean that this boy really makes ‘*We leave to-morrow | ésT have been moored here for nigh onto five months, and I'd set sail this minute, if Explorer } through the Narrows, bound on her long | in due course, and for several days the yacht | | Ratcliff’s face cleared, and he half-smiled, | as he coolly replied: ‘*We have no objections to selling our land at private auction, if that is what you want, | Mr. Stark.’? ‘*Confound it! It’s not what I want! | is no way of doing business! If | know what is right and proper— ‘Stop right there!’* the manager broke in, | rather warmly. ‘‘If you pause to consider, | you will realize you are going too far, Mr. Stark. You are letting your excitement get the best of you, and you will be saying something you’ll regret.’ The man addressed was checked, and he sat still, silent for a while, as he surveyed Bart Stone from head to feet, finally obsery- | ing: It you don’t be | | ‘“You seem destined to cause me no end of trouble, young man. It strikes me you are running a bluff here. If so. I propose to call you. Mr. Ratcliff, will you kindly draw up a written statement that one hundred thou- | Sand dollars is offered, and see that this up- | Start stripling signs it, with toger Van | Worth’s name also attached as a sponsor?’? | ‘‘What’s the use of that yar trouble, as |long as I propose to pan out spot cash?’’ | asked Bart. After some moments’ discussion, Ratcliff asked Roger Van Worth: ‘“*Will you back this boy in any offer he may make?’’ ‘‘Most assuredly, sir,’’ was the prompt re- ply ‘‘l am here for that purpose.’’ ‘That is quite enough,’? nodded the man- ager. “‘If you secure the land, Mr. Stark, you will have to outbid the young man.”’ Stark ground his teeth, his heart full of rage, but he spoke hurriedly, when he had glanced at his handsome watch: “All right. I’ll give one hundred and ten thousand dollars. Let him go over that, if he dares!’ ‘*Wa-al, I'll give one hundred and twenty- five thousand dollars, I reckon,’’ palette drawled Bart. **One hundred and thirty !’’ **One hundred and thirty-five. ’? Stark’s hand was not very steady, as he took out a pocket check-book and hastily wrote in it. ‘‘There!’’ he cried; ‘‘this draft is all filled out except putting in the figures, and I pro- pose to stay right here and bid till I get this piece of land. When I write a draft, it shows I mean business. 1’ll give a hundred and forty thousand dollars !?? toger Van Worth had taken a position at the door, which was now open, where he could command a view of the interior of the office, the elevator and the stairs. He did not seem to be greatly interested in the bid- ding, for he watched the stairs and the eleva- tor more than he did Stark and the boy from Kansas. Bart had chosen a position near Ratcliff’s desk, leaning easily on the back of_a chair, his wide-brimmed hat in his hand, Barely had the last words fallen from Stark’s lips, when he said: ‘*T will make it thousand dollars.’ ‘*One hundred and sixty !’’ almost shouted Stark, his voice shaking perceptibly. **One hundred and seventy-five thousand.’ Again Stark’s temper gained control of him, and he leaped to his feet, sneering : ‘‘What a wretched farce! I tell you there is nothing in it! This boy will never make good his bids! How can he?’’ ‘*We have the assurance of Mr. Van Worth, which we consider quite enough,’’ said the manager. **Confound it, Van Worth, what do you mean by playing this game against me?’? Roger lifted his eyebrows, making a ges- ture of protest with his right hand. “You are excited, Stark—that is evident. You are talking about games as if you never indulged in anything of the kind. That boy is the son of my old schoolmate, and any- thing I have is not too rich for him.’’ ‘*But do you intend to Jet him throw away your money? How dare you permit him to sink such a sum in this tract of land? Why, it would be a sheer loss if the railroad did not cross it!’’ ‘‘Have you thought of that yourself? It is an even hundred and fifty ’ ; Plain you have heard the reports already in circulation, but you ought to know I am generally around to catch on to such things.’’ ‘“‘Then it is you who is really buying this land? Why not come out squarely, instead of doing it through a stupid boy?’’ an offer of one hundred thousand dollars in good faith?’’ asked the company’s manager, in evident doubt. ; *‘Certainly, sir. I can vouch for him.’’ Ratcliff drew a long breath and stared hard at Bart for a few moments, after which he turned to Stark, who was nervously pull- ing at his black beard and biting his lip. i it to Mr. Ratcliff. ‘“The stupid boy, as you call him, has al- ready won me thirty thousand dollars of your money. Perhaps I consider him a mascot.’ Like a flash, Stark wheeled back to his chair, saying hoarsely : ‘‘If you get this land, you’ll pay dear for t! 1 am going to fill out this check and offer It is my limit.’’ ‘*“You have heard the boy’s offer, Mr. | Stark. Do you go any higher??? The man addressed sprang up, as if to pace reply- | **T don’t know as I will.’ ‘‘Then we are at liberty to negotiate with j ‘*Look here!’ and Stark thumped the desk ppers surrounding with his clenched fist, a black look on his : Mr. Ratcliff. that?’?’ In a moment he had written in the sum and torn the slip of paper from the book, handing it to the manager of the Pan Handle Land Company. ‘‘How much is his offer?’’ quietly asked the boy from the West. ‘*Two hundred thousand dollars,’’ replied ‘*1f I don’t go more, I reckon you’) accept ager. **T shall.’’ At this moment, Roger Van Worth started and coughed in a singular manner, leaving the door to walk into the office. ‘‘Wa-al,’’? drawled Bart, deliberately. ‘ ‘‘I ‘low Mr. Stark’ll have to corral the land. I’m done bidding.’’ ‘‘Ha! ha!’ laughed the triumphant pur- chaser. ‘‘ Your nerve failed you at,last.’’ At this point, a messenger boy entered the | office. ‘‘TIs Mr. Stark here—Mr. Cyrus Stark?’’ he asked. ‘Right here,’’? replied the man, as he caught the envelope and quickly tore it open, his eyes running over the brief note ata glance. He turned pale as a corpse, and, with a gasping cry, sank helplessly back in the chair, the paper fluttering to the floor. CHAPTER XXIII. STARK SQUIRMS. HESE were the words which Cyrus 3 Stark had read, hastily scrawled in the, to him, familiar handwriting of his trusted attorney : 2B ra) “RAN “Street rumors false. Make no deal. D., Le and F. W. decided against the extension across the Pan Handle Land Company’s grant. “ALEP.”’ At first Stark’s face was ghastly white, and he seemed on the verge of fainting; then there came a rush of blood that turned his features crimson, and-from crimson to pur- ple. His eyes stared, and he clawed convul- sively at his throat. Ratcliff, still holding the draft in his hands, started to his feet in alarm, exclaim- ing: “The man is having a stroke of apoplexy !’’ The other gentlemen were on their feet in a moment, some one crying: ‘*Call a physician !”’ The agitated man, however, tore open his collar and motioned for them to sit down. ‘*Water !’’ he finally gasped. A glass of water was quickly brought, and, after a few swallows, Stark’s face slowly assumed its proper color, and he began to appear natural. ‘here was no look of triumph on the face of the boy from the West, nor did he seem in the least alarmed by Stark’s manner. Stoop- ing, he picked up the message and _ placed it on the desk at the man’s elbow. Roger Van Worth displayed a_ certain amount of solicitude for Stark, but was not greatly excited, although he seemed relieved when the schemer recovered. Ratcliff sank back in his chair, but the other gentlemen remained standing. The messenger was waiting for Stark to sign, which was soon attended to, and then he took his departure. ‘It is apparent you have received bad news,’’ observed Roger Van Worth, in his quiet way, ‘‘Nothing serious, I trust??’ Those words cut Cyrus Stark like blows from a whip, and he sprang unsteadily to his feet, shaking his fist at the speaker, as he almost screamed : ‘“You hypocrite! I believe you knew it all the time! I see through your trick now!’’ Mr. Van Worth raised his eyebrows, and looked mildly astonished. ‘*Ts the man crazy?’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘What can he possibly mean by such language?”’ ‘*You know what I mean!’ stormed the excited speculator. ‘‘You were aware the Tailroad had decided against the extension! it was a deliberate plot to draw me into this rap !’’ Then he whirled on the manager of the land company, snarling: “Tt’s a fraud. How much did you have to pay this man and boy to work me into Se, scheme? Oh, I see through it all! Ratcliff’s face was pale, but he replied, se- verely : “Sir, you are using unpardonable lan- . guage! I thought you considered yourself a | gentleman! You owe us an apology !’’ Even this did not recall Cyrus Stark to his senses, for he raved up and down the office like a madman, uttering words that would not look well in print. His fury spent’itself after a time, however, and he flung himself down in the chair, panting and glaring at Roger Van Worth maa Bart. The manager of the land company turned to one of the other gentlemen, saying : ** Leland, will you kindly call in Mr. Smith. _ The papers shall be drawn up immediately, and the transfer made to Mr. Stark.’’ ‘*Hold on!’’ entreated the baffled schemer. ‘‘Let’s talk this matter over.’ ‘*T see no reason for making further talk,’’ said Ratcliff. ‘‘I have your draft, and have accepted your offer. That settles it.’’ a suppose I have been hasty in my lan- grace, *? confessed Stark, with sudden hum- leness; ‘‘but this is enough to break any ‘man’s nerve. If | have said anything out of the way to you, Mr. Ratcliff, 1 apologize,’’ Although this was said in a conciliatory - manner, it was also intended as a rounda- bout thrust at Roger Van Worth; but, if Stark expected that gentleman to show he felt it, he must have been disappointed. “All right, all right,’’ nodded the man- ‘tl accept the apology, Mr. Stark. Now we will have Mr. Smith called before CrOoOD he leaves his office for the afternoon. This } matter may as well be settled at once.’’ ‘*Don’t be in sucha hurry. How much will you take to call the bargain off?’’ Something like a cutting laugh came from Roger’ Van Worth’s lips; but, as he was talk- | ing in a low tone to Bart, and did not seem |} to be heeding what was passing in the office, | it was barely possible he had not thought of a return thrust at Stark. | However, Cyrus turned a severe glare on | the man and boy, both of whom he now | hated with undying intensity. ‘‘It is a fair and square deal,’’ said Rat- cliff. ‘‘I hold your draft for two hundred thousand dollars, and I see no reason why | there should be a withdrawal now.’’ ‘‘T may make it worth while for you to withdraw.’’ ‘*T think not.’’ ‘*But you do not know,2’ desperately in- sisted the schemer, who had quite lost his head, or he would have asked that Roger and 3art be requested to withdraw. In his eager- ness to get out of the trap into which he had leaped, he was humbling himself still further in their presence. Ratcliff lifted his hand to his mouth, but when he removed it, his face was perfectly grave. ‘‘Ror what sum will you call the bargain off and return me _ that draft?’’ anxiously asked Stark. ‘*One hundred thousand dollars,’’ was the staggering reply. Stark looked as if in the face. r ‘“Sir!’?? he gasped; ‘‘this is astonishing! Do you mean to say you have beaten me to the extent of one hundred thousand dollars in this matter??? ‘“We do not mean to say anything about it,’? was the cool reply. ‘‘But your words mean as much! Itisa fraud—a swindle! I will have satisfaction !’’ He was getting excited and violent again. ‘‘Mr. Stark,’’ spoke Ratcliff, severely, ‘‘yvou will kindly remember we simply ac- cepted your own offer—nothing more. You are again using language that is unpardon- able.’’ ‘‘T will give you ten thousand dollars to return that draft and cancel the bargain!’’ burst from the insnared schemer’s lips. ‘‘I will write the draft af once.’’ ‘*You have heard our figures.’’ ‘*But it is outrageous! I will not submit to such a fraud! I protest !’’ '‘*Mr, Leland,’’? once more said the mana- ger of the land company, ‘‘call in Mr. Smith.’’ Leland started for the door. ‘‘T will make it twenty-five thousand dol- lars!’’? panted Stark. ‘‘You can’t refuse that!”’ ‘‘But we do, just the same. You have made a fair trade, Mr. Stark; why not stand by it? You should know it is useless to kick in such a matter.’’ “*Pl not accept any papers! I'll stop pay- ment on that draft !’’ This brought the matter to a culmination, for Ratcliff arose to his feet, his face like a stone, and his voice hard as the ring of steel. “Tf you stop payment, we shall have to bring suit, sir!’’ ‘‘Bring it, and be—hanged!’’ ‘*You will not think of such a measure?’’ ‘‘Won’t [? Well, you’ll see! The bank is he had received a blow care you do not draw row. I mean it!’’ ““You must be out of your senses! If you do such a thing, the Pan Handle Land Com- pany will eae bring suit against you and we will win the case,’’ With the aid of his chair, Stark slowly arose to his feet, a look of despair in his eyes. ‘*Man, you will ruin me!’’ he half-groaned. ‘‘Impossible! A man of your standing cannot be ruined by the purchase of a tract of land at two hundred thousand dollars! Now you are joking !’’ **You do not know all that has happened of late——’’ Stark began, only to break off abruptly, as he eyidently realized what he was saying. ; With a great effort, he assumed a shadow of his usual haughty air, turning on Roger Van Worth. ‘*Sir,’’ he said, ‘‘you have beaten me in this matter, but I promise to even things up some day.’’ A sudden change came over the usually quiet gentleman, and he started forward, his ace black as a storm-cloud. ‘‘T wish to hear no more of your threats, Stark !’? came crushingly from Roger’s lips. ‘**You have insulted both myself and my young friend, but I do not expect an ap i- ogy from such a man as you. However’’— suddenly producing a slip of paper and wav- ing it before the other’s eyes—‘‘I do expect the cash for this acknowledgment of a debt, to which your name is signed.’’ It was the I. O. U. for the sum of twenty thousand dollars. in At first it seemed that Stark would give way to another outbreak, but he restrained himself, saying, with something like his usual manner : ‘1 instructed Mr. Clay to tell at the office for your money. call, ’? ‘*No.?? ‘‘Well, [am not in the habit of carrying around that amount of cold cash with me.’’ ' your money to-mor- you to call ou did not closed for the day now; and I'll take good: NEWS. ‘*Then give me your draft for it,’’ But a moment did Stark hesitate, and then he sat down and wrote the draft, as request- | ed, passing it to Mr. Van Worth, who bowed }and smiled with all his accustomed sauvity. ‘‘Thank you, Stark. This ends our deal- ings with each other—for the present.’’ ‘I trust so,’’? was the retort, as Stark re- fused to recognize the significance of the final words. ‘‘Good day, gentlemen. Good day, Stark.’’ The trapped schemer made no answer, but turned his back squarely on Mr. Van Worth, who, smiling quietly, left the office, Bart following. CHAPTER XXIV. AFTER BUCK PRINDLE. HE man and boy entered a cab that the had been waiting for them at the curb - ) below. ics For some moments after the cab started to roll northward, neither spoke. Mr. Van Worth was the first to break the si- lence, and he turned to Bart, saying: ‘*We have made a good beginning. If we can keep this up, you will soon see Cyrus Stark crushed, and I suppose that is what you want?’’ ‘“‘T want to hear him confess—I want to win back the property that rightfully be- longs to my mother. I feel a desire to avenge my poor father !’’ ‘‘And you are not to blame. I am with you, and something seems to tell me we will win this fight. You saw how badly broken up Stark was. Well, he has been losing heavily on the street of late, and he hoped to set himself on his feet by this deal that has gone against him. How he hates us both !’? ‘“‘1’d_ rather have his hatred than his love, a heap sight. I never in all my life felt I’d like to hurt any human critter till I knew how he had injured mother. Then I wanted to get back that yar mine, but I reckon I’d been content at that if I hadn’t heard the words of Buck Prindle. They ’roused a sus- picion that father was dealt with foully, and now I’llmever let up till I have follered the trail plumb through to the end.’’ The boy’s manner showed how much in szarnest he really was, for he was grave and more like a man than a lad of seventeen. ‘*Buck Prindle is the man we must get hold of,’? nodded Mr. Van Worth. ‘‘He must tell what he knows.’’ ‘‘Tt may not be an easy thing to make that thar galoot tell anything.’’ ‘Why?’ ‘*Wa-al, I kind of suspect he’s mixed some way so he’ll be afraid to talk.’’ ‘‘By Jove! I believe you are right! If not, why hasn’t he talked before???’ ‘*That’s it.”? ‘Then, when my detectives find him, he shall be forced to confess. ’’ ‘*When your detectives find him?’ ‘*Yes; IL have had two men on the search for him since you told Stark you intended to send men out to recover the stock.’’ This was news for Bart, but he immedi- ately appreciated the wisdom of the gentle- man’s course. Mr. Van Worth went on to say one of the detectives had tracked Prindle to a low joint in Brooklyn, and there the trail had ended as completely as if the man had dissolved in- to thin air. Still, the ferret was working on the other side of the East River, hopeful of soon bringing information of further success. Little did the man and boy dream how soon such information would be received. When they reached Mr. Van Worth’s Madi- son Avenue home, the detective was found waiting there. ‘‘What news?’’ eagerly asked the million- aire, as, with Bart, he appeared in the li- brary, where Carrol, the detective, was wait- ing. The detective looked inquiringly at Bart. ‘*He’s all right,’’ assured Roger, under- standing the meaning of that glance. ‘‘He is the boy I am pushing this matter for. You may talk before him freely. Have you found any trace of Prindle?’’ : ‘* Yes, /sir.?’ ‘‘Ha! That is interesting. What’s the re- sult?’’ ‘*T have found Prindle himself.’’ ‘*Good! Where?’’ ‘‘Out on Long Island.’’ ‘‘Indeed! What is he staying over there for??’ ‘*Because he can’t get away.’’ Mr. Van Worth lifted his eyebrows as he heard this singular reply, staring hard at the detective. ‘*Eh?’? he exclaimed. ‘‘I don’t understand you. Why can’t he get away?’ ‘‘He is a prisoner,’’ was the still more sur- prising answer. ‘* A prisoner??? ‘*Exactly, sir.’’ ‘Great Scott! What has he been doing to get himself arrested?’’ ‘‘He has not been arrested.’’ Roger gazed at the detective as if he could scarcely credit the evidence of his ears. ‘*You are puzzling me very much, Car- rol,’’ was his deliberate assertion, after a moment of silence. ‘*How can he be a pris- onev if he has not been arrested?’ ‘‘He has been made a prisoner by private parties, not by officers, sir.’’ Bart was listening with eager interest having twice opened his lips to say something and then closed them again, trusting all 1” the older man. ' ‘By private parties?’’ burst from Mr. Val © Worth’s lips, as he began to suspect the ~ truth. ‘‘Who??’?’ ‘*Cyrus Stark.’’ ‘*T knew it!’’ nodded Bart, unable to keep” silent longer. ‘‘I reckoned as much the mine ute he said Prindle had been corraled. If. this yere don’t prove thar’s something what that critter said about Stark having 4” hand in my father’s death, I don’t know” shucks !?? Roger was also greatly cried: ‘*Tell us all about it, Carrol—lively!’’ ‘‘There is not much to tell. I have found Stark put private detectives after the man in order to recover the missing stock, aul Prindle was nailed in the Ivy Green, over Brooklyn. There the detectives got in with him and managed to get a drugged drink down his throat, with the result that whet Mr. Buck Prindle awoke he found himse comfortably and closely confined in a cellar, | with a tough character standing guard over him.’’ ; ‘*Where is the cellar?’’ ‘*Know Jarley’s old abandoned road-hous¢ —the place they say is haunted?’’ : * Yes. 3? ‘*The cellar is under that house.’’ ‘*Pid Stark get the stock?”’ ‘*T don’t know; I suppose so.”’ Roger Van Worth was silent some m0 ments, walking swiftly up and down the lt brary. Finally, he halted, wheeling towaré aroused, and he- the detective and the expectant boy. ‘*Buck Prindle is the man we went above everybody and everything else,”’ he declared: “Tf we do not get him soon, Stark is jiable to spirit him out of the country.’’ i ‘*Wa-al, I reckon we can get him this yar night!’ cried the Kansas lad. **How??? ‘ ‘“‘“Go and take him. This yere detectivé says thar an’t but one man on guard, @ thar are three of us. We ought to be a hea plenty for one.’’ ‘‘That’s right! It is just the kind of ta# I like to hear. What do you say to it, Cal roll???’ q aa ‘‘T am in ‘your employ, sir, and with you as far as the law will allow,’’ was the al swer of the adventurous detective. ‘‘TH man is held prisoner against his will by tho who have no right to do so, and it is prop we should release him,’’ That settled it. Without delay, Mr. Vé Worth ordered a lunch prepared for them 4 and instructed one of the servants to brif his revolvers to the library. The lunch av the revolvers were forthcoming at the sa time. ‘*Can you shoot, Bart?’’ asked the gentle man. The boy from the West smiled. ‘*Wa-al, a little,’? was his modest rep) ‘‘T heard as how people didn’t tote arou guns in this yar part of the country ne whatever, so I left mine at home.’’ ‘Take one of these. Carrol is armed.’4, The lunch was soon dispatched, and ade started on its way, crossing to Br yn by the Twenty-third street ferry. A team of high-stepping horses was tained, and, with Carroll handling the rein they reached the country as twilight ca” creeping down. On into the gathering 2 the spirited horses bore them, the bea®* their ron hoofs making a rythmical with now and then the flash of a spark the stones, like the glinting glow of a fire® For nearly an hour this steadily continu® and then Roger Van Worth spoke in @ tone to the boy at his side: ‘Ready for business, my lad. Jarley’ road-house is not far away. There may hot work on hand.’’ 4 (TO BE CONTINUED.) ——_+--e AN ENORMOUS KITE. The largest kite ever made in the U2 States was that produced in Durham, County, N. Y. : The frame consisted of two main stl twenty-eight feet long, weighing eae hundred pounds, and two’ cross s#@ twenty-one feet long, and weighing sev five pounds each. All the sticks wer@ by six inches in dimensions. Ove framework was stretched a great she white duck, twenty-five by eightee? which weighed fifty-five pounds. of the kite alone weighed fifty pounds | contained one hundred and _ fifty-five of muslin. Two thousand five hundre® of half-inch rope served as kite-striD9*, 14, The plaything cost one hundred 4% and, when mounted into the air, it & a lifting power of five hundred poun®: men once permitted it to ascend one and feet. ay > 6-——— i Younester (aged five, to his siste?. know more’n you do. I know where ™, places in the world are.” Sistel y= Henry, what a story ! you don’t.” Hens “TI do, then. ‘They're in the atlas sitting on it,” eee GroOD J ; > {This Story will not be Published in Book-Form. } fae BLUE AND Wate SAM OR, >. a - i RIDING FOR FORTUNE. a = waG ‘a BY ERNEST A. YOUNG. 3 ; sabre tig a (“BLUE AND WHITK SAM” was commenced in ™ No.213. Back numbers can be obtained of all ide News Agents, } D, id CHAPTER XXVIII. in th SAM FINDS HIS HORSE. nk z 7 en | HAT in the name of wonder does it elf mean?’’ broke from the lips of ur, Blue and White Sam as _ he beheld rer the sudden transformation which , the aspect of the old house had undergone Since his eyes had last rested upon it, barely ise &minute before. : ™@ | For, from top to bottom, the dwelling was ® ‘rilliantly illuminated within. Every win- Gow gleamed whitely forth into the darkness @ “hat enshrouded everything outside. ™ The house was a two-story one, witha n0- Ong ‘‘ell,’? with sagging roof. The windows et ) tad small panes of glass, dusty and cobweb- ard ay, Within and weather-stained without. Until this moment, no sign of life had been ove . Visible. Yet now, as though by magic, ev- -ed. ae Sy room in the old building was brightly ible Wf AShted. i ', ‘It means that they intend to make some- yar body believe the old shebang is chock-full of HP Shosts,’? said Talway Tripp. =) “Then you know something about this tive ee Place?’ Sam asked. and 2 h I never happened to see anything queer seap p oe before, but I have heard plenty of | s Stories.” talk “Some people ’round here think it’s haunt- Cat me 2,20 they?” , ‘There may be a few simple enough to you ; Think so, but there are more who believe it is 2 i the resort of tramps, who make it a point to This 4 Slve the place a bad reputation, so it will re- bose : ii in vacant. One or two families tried to “oper Ve here, they tell me; but something fright- "hed them away. There was a story that a & had a grudge against the owner, and pok this way to make the place unsaleable. /°Ut these are stories which were current a Pyar ago, when I came through this way. ame Rp tely there hasn’t been much said about it. Ut this looks as if the ghosts were up to a yntle heer sort of game than the people around er Te have caught onto.’’ : ,. £ Bamford Brayles’ two-footed dog is ® of the spooks, then I’m in for a grand '*S0k-hunt,’’ said Sam. the lights in the house continued to burn Neadily for several minutes, and then went _..88 suddenly as they had appeared. 4.2¢ took more than one man to play that a. os,” was Sam’s verdict. | Should say so,’’ Mr. Ragsdale answered. 1S ob: -& Oa long have you been here?’’ Sam oe i AC rel" Re yy i _ call Ve were here twenty minutes, perhaps, ’ pigitae 1ee of you.” yeat of bea Did you see anything of Cashin or the > B 2? ying: P iw < fro? yy: But we are pretty sure where they reff ware.” jnueds \ What I want is the horse. The man may in all the old shanties he can - ar 7 fing ; ound a But it I can only get Max in my grip again. y’s a , Bigs Go t be that they took him into the By ke? nay Mon that is just what Cashin must have “lon ®,” declared Tripp. ‘‘He didn’t get here We before we did, and 1 looked the ground ith Clear around the house as well as I could ) Ut a light. There is a wide door in the the “nd there were fresh tracks near it. But united Dr epound is too hard for any distinct im- ee sowons to be left on it.’’ Gr tay. ll,” laughed Sam, ‘‘I don’t believe the « aes ct of that house is any too good for Max, Stina My it &$ good as the stable 1’1l own before ch OF ant, hiskers get grey if I only get Max back stick® ot “nd sound. It looks, though, as if I had even! ii Wish hustle to beat that thief this time. I are tS Ms 5 “d gone and reported the whole busi- yer the mt ae authorities in the first place.”’ eet 7 Mo,» mt eet have been the best thing to eels a ‘Tipp. en 3 tail * Bat, you see, I meant to catch him on the Th and ea’ and 1 didn’t really think he meant to 145) de Nag Rett: horse for good. Besides, while I ve J fet ing ete the police stirred up, I would be red y lef yvhing for Mr. Ragsdale here, and the ngs: sh berg oh have a glorious chance to get doll@ da ty © would be hard to catch.”? 1 9 : : J faaualt needn't have thought of me,’’ said exe E ds: ly in... but I think you have acted » th take, Pursuing yourself. You now have erty | the thief, and know where your Is hidden. If we watch our chance, a Uitin, “twit the inmates of the house by ter ib ? t the same time, if it should re 4 fight, it would be handy for you 4 constable to back you up. And for ®r, you can trust Jack Gardner to "the ,.w@, the scent, for the boy will re- Swi “fair to him. It is likely that offi- “Sof..° here in the morning. In that _ urs © I will have to move on.’’ ‘*T don’t propose to hang around without provisions a great while. My stomach begins to wobble when I don’t have my rations reg ular. As you say, I’ve caught up with the thief and I know where my team is hid. I’m going ahead with the programme of getting Max out of that house, and showing Cashin that he has got to fight something worse than a pestilence if he-means to hang onto my property !”’ Sam was the youngest of the trio, and in deference to Tripp’s knowledge of the local- ity, and his employer’s general experience, he would have permitted them to lead in the present enterprise had either of them been ready with a feasible suggestion. But some are born to lead, while others must be content to fight the battle of life in the ranks. Blue and White Sam had shown himself to be equal to a great emergency when he won the race which had saved his employer from ruin, It were useless to win a great prize if he were not sharp enough to retain possession of it afterward. Thus the young jockey reasoned. And his blood was fired with a determination to take the lead in the perilous task he was then facing, as he had led upon the race-track in the close contest of the day before. He lighted his lantern and flung its rays about the interior of the great barn. ‘*Mouldy hay, an old pitchfork, a scythe- snath and two wagon-spokes!’’ he remarked, taking a rapid inventory of the visible con- tents of the building. ‘*Got any pistols?’’ he inquired of his com- panions. Both nodded, but Tripp shrugged his shoul- ders with a humurous twist of his lips. ‘*Yours won’t go?’’ Sam queried, inter- preting the other’s grimace. ‘*Not very good,’’ admitted the youth. ‘*What ails it?’’ ‘*Cylinder. gone. You see, I had a little transaction with a banking-establishment in Springfield the other day, and when we squared up accounts the banker cheated me. That’s all.”’ Sam understood the situation without fur- ther explanations. Tripp had pawned his re- volver, and when he redeemed it the pawn- broker had given him back a useless weapon in place of his own. ‘*Well,’’ our hero returned, ‘‘ you will have to use the pitchfork if it comes to close quar- ters. The pistol will do to scare with.’’ ‘* And the pitchfork to punch with,’’ nod- ded Tripp. ‘*‘You may depend upon me to try both if you need me,’’ he added, and Sam was confident that he would keep his word ‘*All right,’’ said our hero. ‘‘Now, all you need to do for the present is to stay here and watch. I’m going to make or break a way into that house, and locate Max. Then Max and I are going to make or break a way out again. If you hear a racket of any kind, stand by with the pistols and pitch- fork !”’ ‘‘Be careful, Sam,’’ warned! Mr. Ragsdale. ‘You have grit enough for a dozen, but you mustn’t be fool-hardy.’’ ‘“‘I’d rather be reckless and win, than too prudent and lose,’’ said Sam. ‘‘But don’t fret. That Cashin and I have been pestering each other for a number of days, and one or the other of us will have to get the worst of the battle sooner or later, and I want to know for good which of us it is going to be.’’ Sam examined his pistol, and, turning the wick of his lantern low, he secured the latter under his. jacket, so that it could be brought into use at short notice if need be. With the parting warning ‘‘to be careful,’’ ringing in his ears, he sallied forth from the barn, and by a short detour approached the ell of the house. As Tripp had said, there was a wide door in the ell. This was closed, but like the other which he had tried, Sam found it unfastened. . Pausing to listen, he next softly opened the door—or tried to open it softly, for like the other, the hinges gave out a startlingly pierc- ing squeak. Sam/’s heart gave a thump, and for an in- stant he hesitated. ‘*They’ll know it’s somebody,’’he thought, ‘‘but I might as well give up the whole bat- tle as to back out now!’’ He stepped boldly in, leaving the door open. As he did so his ears were greeted by a sound that filled him with a stronger de- termination than ever. It was the whinny of a horse, from a point close at hand. Such an appeal from any animal of the equine race had the power to arouse Sam at any time. This, therefore, coming from the horse whose life he had been the means of preserv- ing and restoring to usefulness, gave him a stronger thrill than any other could have done. It was pitch-dark on all sides. that the horse was within a dozen feet of where he stood. Indeed, the sound seemed so near that he believed he might almost touch the animal with an outstretched hand. This was no time to falter. If there was to be a fight, the sooner it began the earlier it would be ended. Sam took two or three hurried, rapid strides in the direction whence the sound had He judged come. He was brought to a stand by a col- lision with another human figure which was NEWS. coming with equal speed and noiselessness to- ward him. The unseen enemy uttered a gruff impre- cation and attempted to grapple with the boy jockey. The latter, however, slipped out of the man’s grasp with the nimbleness of an eel, and with swift, silent strides, approached the spot where the stolen trotter’ was stand- ing. Sam’s outstretched hand touched the horse. At a leap he reached the animal’s back, and before the one who had attacked him could divine what was occurring, the horse was walking toward the exit, with his young owner leaning forward upon his neck. CHAPTER XXIX. IN THE DESERTED FARM-HOUSE. J TT T was so dark that Blue and White Sam *}2 had to trust entirely to the instincts of 4]' his horse to lead him to the door. If > the animal were at fault, or uncertain of what his young master required, failure in the bold attempt would be sure. ‘*Halt!’?? commanded a voice just ahead. Sam had drawn his revolver, and now he silently held the weapon in readiness to resist interference. Peering ahead, his eyes perceived the open door, for a greyish gloom instead of the in- tense blackness within prevailed outside. Instantly he gave the horse a silent signal that caused the animal to spring fleetly to- ward the door, his iron-shod hoofs making ¢ great clatter along the floor, and echoing through the empty rooms. It was a bold stroke. Sam/’s heart seemed to beat almost as audibly as the hoof-strokes of the horse. He knew that the unseen foe might quickly win the day by shooting Max, for such a generous mark could hardly be missed, even in the dark. Yet that were a hazardous stroke for even a horse-thief to .perpetrate. Cashin was un- questionably a brutal villain, capable of any rascality. But he was not a fool, and of course he would take care to protect himself with a measure of ordinary prudence. The horse was nearly to the door, and Sam felt that a great feat was almost as good as accomplished. Then the boy felt a powerful hand seize his leg. There was a sudden wrench, with the horse pulling forward and Sam digging his knees into the animal’s sides to keep from losing his seat. Then something struck him a dizzying blow in the face, and he dropped to the floor as if he had been shot. A harsh shout sounded young jockey, mingled with the rapid clat- ter of the horse’s feet. ‘‘Stop ’em—stop ’em!’’ yelled the voice of Cashin. There was an answering shout which Sam did not understand, and then he heard the sound of hurrying footsteps, thé banging of a door, and lastly, the report of a revolver. All this followed so rapidly that the boy had not time to comprehend what had hap- pened. His brain whirled from the blow he had received, and numberless stars seemed to be dancing before his vision. ‘Through it all, however, he realized that he was still within the old house, and that Max was not in his possession. And as he struggled to his feet, and found himself en- shrouded in darkness, it occurred to him that the stroke he had received had not been from his enemy. In the struggle to maintain his seat upon Max’s unsaddled back, with the man dragging at his leg, Sam had raised himself just as the horse was passing through the doorway. By this involuntary act his forehead was brought forcibly in collision with the top of the door-casing. This was the blow which so nearly stunned him, flinging him from the back of the horse. Once more upon his feet, Sam groped for the door, which had evidently been shut dur- ing the momentary interval of partial uncon- sciousness which he had suffered. He found the latch of the wide door, but after fumbling with it for a moment, he un- derstood that it had been fastened in some manner. He then felt for the lantern, which he had so carefully attached to his suspender, under his jacket. At the same time he noticed the strong odor of burned wool, and his hand came in contact with something that burned. In a flash he had torn open his jacket. As he did so a warm smudge rose to his nostrils, and there was the rattle of broken glass fall- ing upon the floor. In his fall the glass globe of the lantern had been broken, and some of the oil spilled upon his clothing. The wick, turned low, was burning, and thus his oil-saturated jacket had been ignited upon the inner side. Being buttoned so tightly around him, the fire had little chance to spread, and he now quickly extinguished what there was of it by rubbing it vigorously together. All this occupied. but a moment of time; but it was a vexatious delay all the same. And it was sufficient to give his enemy time to regain the advantage which he had lost. In falling, also, he had dropped his revol- ver, and he had to grope about upon the floor to recover that. At this moment he heard the slamming of a door somewhere in that part of the house, and a thin column of light flashed through a in the ears of the | 3541 crevice, showing him dimly the character of his surroundings. The footsteps of two or three men were approaching, and there was not a moment to be lost. | He again tried to open the large door. There was not light enough to’show him how it was fastened, and there was no time to ex- | periment. He believed that Max had trotted out of doors when he was thrown from the horse’s back, and that Cashin had followed to recover the animal. | If this were the case, Sam could only hope | to regain possession of his property by re- | maining upon the premises and making an- | other attempt. | He was in a long, narrow hall-way, at the farther end of which Max had been standing at the moment Sam discovered him. The wide door opening out of doors was at his right, as he faced down the corridor. There was another door nearly opposite, standing ajar, and opening at the bottom of a staircase leading, probably, to an open chamber or loft over the rooms in that part of the house. Sam darted up these stairs just as another door was flung open, letting a flood of light | upon the scene. | Sam closed the door after him and ascend- | ed the stairs as rapidly as he could, consist- ently with caution. As it was, he was re- minded in a startling manner of the dilapi- dated condition of shat part of the building. One of the stairs, rotted by the leaky roof, gave way under his weight, and he feil | through to his waist, where he was stopped | by the bulk of his own body. The ‘‘tread’’ of the stair had broken away entirely. Below he could discern another flight of stairs, leading doubtlessly to the cellar. The space below was pervaded- by a faint gleam of light from some unseen source. Sam tried to extricate himself from the narrow space into which he was squeezed. | This was no easy matter, if he were to try to |raise himself. But he found that he might {readily enlarge the opening and let himself down through. This he did without hesitation. His feet struck lightly upon the stairs leading down- ward, and he quickly completed the descent. | Hewas in a long, narrow cellar, whose only contents seemed to be a few empty bar- rels, and a large, old-fashioned meal-chest. On one of the inverted barrels a small kero | sene lamp was burning, showing the sur- | rounding objects with sufficient distinctness. ' { | “These quarters will do till I can get out of them, as the fellow said when they put him in jail,’? Sam observed, as he hurriedly | Surveyed the dismal place, at the same time | hastily deciding what to do in case he were | followed hither by the men who were tramp- | ing heavily along the passage overhead. While listening alertly for the movements | of his enemies, he leisurely examined the ob- ‘jects in the cellar. There was nothing sig- | nificant about any of them, as they were | probably articles which the last tenants of | the dwelling had thought valueless, and so | had left them to be disposed of as the next | occupant might see fit. | Sam took up the lamp and raised the lid of | the chest. The latter, at first glance, seemed to be half-full of some kind of grain. He exam- | ined a handful of it more closely, and decided | that it was malt. What surprised him was | the fact that it had no musty odor, seeming, | therefore, to be fresh. While meditating upon this somewhat curi- | ous discovery, he was recalled to his own 'danger by the opening of the door at the head ofthe cellar stairs. Iustantly replacing the lamp on the invert- ed barrel, Sam quickly raised the lid of the chest against the wall, sprang into the recep- tacle, and then drew the cover down tightly. ‘*Cramped quarters,’’ thought Sam. ‘‘And it might be better for me to stay out in sight and face the music. But what I’m after is to find how many there are of these fellows, and what they’re up to, playing at the game of spook in this old house.’’ The men were speaking, and with no at- tempt at caution. Sam distinguished three distinct voices, one of which he identified as that of Caleb Burton, whom the reader will recall as the self-styled guardian of Genie North, at whose lonely hut Bamford .Brayles did so much of his plotting against Mr. Ragsdale before the opening of the race. Sam was not surprised to find that Burton was in league with Cashin in whatever vil- lainy the latter might be engaged. They were certainly ‘‘birds of a feather.’’ The boy likewise recalled what Genie had said concerning her guardian, that there was so much plotting going on in which he seemed to have a share, that she was afraid for her own life. ‘*Cashin was a pesky fool to fetch that hoss here in the fust place!’’ Burton declared, as he reached the foot of the stairs. ‘*That’s so,’? agreed one of the-others. ‘If he had a grudge to work out against the youngster, on his own account or anybody else’s, he had no business to ring us into it. Hosses is big plunder—too big to handle in our line.’’ ‘ -“ AM’S wits were never slow; under < pressure like that of the present situa- tion, they acted with tremendous rap- idity. The few utterances of Caleb Burton and his companions which he had overheard, taken in connection with the other signs of lawlessness, told the young jockey that he had stumbled upon the rendezvous of a small gang of outlaws. The fact that this was in a populous dis- trict of a law-abiding commonwealth, made it hard to credit the discovery. Still, there could be no doubt but Burton and the others were engaged in crooked work of some sort. While Sam’s brain was busy with conjec- tures growing out of what he had overheard, the men seemed to be walking about the cel- lar in an aimless sort of way. The boy heard them move one or two of the barrels, and through a crevice under the lid of the chest he could see that the position of the lamp was shifted. He supposed that they had come hither in uest of the one who had so boldly invaded their quarters and tried to escape with the horse—otherwise, that they were in search of him. But it now appeared that they had no thought of finding him in the cellar. ‘*You don’t want to talk too much about some things till we are sure that nobody is hiding around here,’’ cautioned one of the men. ; ‘‘That means that they didn’t hear me tumble down here, after all,’’ thought Sam. “* But they’re up to something else, and they merely want to be on the safe side. That makes me feel as if 1 wasn’t on the safe side of this chest. If I hadn’t been in sucha hurry to get out of the way I might’ have found safer quarters to hide in.’’ For some time he listened without hearing anything more of importance from the men in the cellar. They seemed to be busily engaged about something, and only an occasional remark was exchanged between them. But at last Burton spoke. ‘*The ghost trick won’t always keep people from poking around here,’’ he declared. ‘““That sort of a scare plays out after a spell, and then somebody’ll take hold and mix us up here at a great rate. Still, we can’t find a safer place for puttin’ our stuff than here. But that box an’t secure. The quicker we it that hole dug out the better. Then we’d tter leave the old ranch for a spell and let suspicion cool off.. It wouldn’t be a bad idee for the old house to ketch afire one of these days.’’ “A tramp might set it with matches—the old excuse, you know,’’ said one of the other men with a laugh. ‘Jest the idee! Jest the idee!’’ said Bur- ton. ‘‘Hand me the pick,’’ ordered one of them. **And,’’ he added, ‘‘help me to move these stones. Careful, for we don’t want to fetch the whole wall down onto our heads the first hitch.’’ Thump, thump sounded the pick, with which one of the men had begun to dig near the wall of the cellar which was farthest from the hiding-place of our hero. ‘The deeper ye tunnel in the better,’’ said Burton, who appeared to be holding the lamp and directing the work. ‘*And the more loose dirt to be disposed of,’’ was the reply. ‘‘We can throw pretty nigh all on’t back in afore we put back the stones.’’ ‘‘T suppose so. But we want the hole just deep enough to be safe, and no more. If the house should burn down, as you spoke of, the hole would have to be deep enough to protect the stuff from the heat.’ ‘*That’s what | was thinkin’,’’ Burton re- plied. ‘*And you really think the house better burn?’’ ‘Sartain.’’ ‘‘And then we'll have to keep away from tere for six months or a year, at least.’’ ‘* Best thing todo. I an’t one of the head- long sort myself. It’s better to let time do a part of yer work for ye, ruther than to keep a-hustlin’; and then maybe git caught.’? Of the three men so far, Sam had distinct- ly heard the speech of only two. The third was mostly silent, and when he spoke at all, it was in a low, muffled tone, that was bare- ly audible to the one hiding in the chest. They now all seemed to be working stead- ily. For half an hour they kept engaged in the same manner. Then there came sounds from above, and’ to the relief of Sam, Burton exclaimed. ‘ ‘‘Cashin has come, and I guess he got the hoss ag’in.” 1 wish the critter had got away. As long as he stays here there’s a chance of that boy comin’ after him, and like enough, fetch a constable along. We’d better go up and find how matters stand. It would be jest as well if Cashin didn’t know too much, anyhow, for he belongs to Bamford Brayles, pretty much!”’ **We’ll go up,’’? was the reply. And Sam heard them ascend the stairs. ” ‘*‘Now is my chance!’’ muttered the boy, jockey. With a sigh of intense relief he flung up the lid of the chest and straightened his cramped and aching limbs. The lamp had been carried away by Bur- ton, and the place was intensely dark. Sam immediately began to dig into the malt in the bottom of the chest, using his hands for the purpose. He worked rapidly, and was quickly re- warded by finding at one end of the chest, and well-covered by the grain, what ap- peared to be a small, iron-bound cask. The latter was about the size and shape of a hundred-pound cask of white lead, such as is used in mixing paint, and which most of my readers have doubtless seen. It had no bail or handle of any kind, and Sam found that it would be all he would care to lift from the bottom of the chest. ‘*T guess [ won’t try to stuff that package into my pocket this time,’’ muttered Sant. Without hesitation he hurriedly covered the cask with the malt as he had found it, and then groped his way toward the side of the cellar where the men had been digging. His purpose was to locate the hiding-place which was being prepared for the mysterious cask which Burton and his companons seemed to value so highly. ‘Whether the thing is full of gold, lead or old junk, we’re going to see the inside of it before we’re many days older,’’ Sam de- clared, as he cautiously struck a match. Two large stones had been removed from the cellar wall, and an excavation about four feet in depth was made horizontally in the earth. Evidently this was about as far as they intended to dig, and that it was their purpose to place the cask in the remotest end of the opening, and fill in with the earth which had been removed, replacing the stones of the wall last. This, after the building had been burned, and the debris fallen into the cellar, would make as perfect a hiding-place as human in- genuity could conceive of. The wisdom of Burton’s crafty suggestions was apparent to Blue and White Sam. ‘*Now for Max, and a skip for liberty!’ said the latter, extinguishing the match and thrusting the remains into a pocket so that it should not betray him. There were plenty of sounds audible above, and Sam knew that the most hazardous part of his undertaking was before him. He: silently ascended the stairs, reached the passage which led from the entrance to the ell, to the main part of the house, which was now lighted by a reflector lamp, at- tached to the wall. He was not sure that the horse had been taken into the house this time. Indeed, he had heard no sounds to indicate the animal’s presence. By the light Sam could see how to unfasten the outside door. The fastening proved to be a simple wooden button over the iron latch, and this he hurriedly turned so that the door might be flung open without an instant’s loss of time when he was ready for flight. He then made his way along the corridor to the side room in which he had chanced to find Max an hour before. The horse was not there. The door stood ajar, and the light from the hall rendered objects visible. “The horse is outside this time,’’ he rea- soned. ‘‘That is, if Cashin got him back. And it looks as if this was a fine time for me to go out and drink in the fresh air.’’ He returned to the exit, opened it silently and stepped forth. At the same time he heard the stamping of a horse close at hand. He noticed a small shed at the end of the house. A few strides carried him thither; and there stood Max, hitched to the sulky ! The horse was “tied by a weight. Sam’s knife cut the tie-rein; he sprang into the sulky and took the reins with a thrill of tri- umph; but simultaneously a man rose out of the darkness and exclaimed : ‘ “Stir from that seat, and I’ll shoot your horse |’? (TO BE CONTINUED.) > - 0 -e-———--—- A TWO-MILLION-DOLLAR COMMA. “Oh, punctuation marks are not of much account. They’re just put in for looks. I don’t want to bother about them.” Such are the sentiments of a good many school-boys with regard to this branch of letter and composition writing. Others, again, appear to think that all that is neces- sary is to put in a comma here and there at hap-hazard, to set off the ‘look of the thing.” How risky this way of doing things is may be learned from the following inci- dent. It seems that some twenty years ago, when the United States, by its Congress, was mak- ing a tariff bill, one of the sections enumer- ated what articles should be admitted free, of duty. Among the articles specified were ‘all foreign fruit-plants,” etc., meaning plants imported for transplanting, propaga- tion, or experiment. ’ The enrolling clerk, in copying the bill, accidentally changed the hyphen in the compound word ‘‘fruit-plants” to a comma, a year, or until Congress could remedy the blunder—all the oranges, lemons, bananas, grapes, and other foreign fruits were ad- mitted free of duty. This little mistake, which any one would be liable to make, yet could have avoided by carefulness, cost the Government not less than two million dol- lars. A pretty costly comma that! ——___-_ > ++» {This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.] AMONG THE GYPSIES, OR, THE STRANGE LIFE OF MAT DUCRO Nplate BY JOHN H. WHITSON. ection (“AMONG THE GYPSIES” was commenced in No. 217. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.] CHAPTER XVI. IN A TRAP. HE dog under the house yelped and j}? raged in fury, making frantic efforts , “). to break the rope that restrained it. —~ But neither Mat nor Phil Darrow were giving any heed to the dog. Lee Bolton and M’'liss come on with pro- digions bounds. Mat threw his feet wildly, in his blind terror, and Phil Darrow again raised the threatening poker, which he had been swinging as a club. At that instant, one of the rattlesnakes rolled out of the doorway, and threw itself into a defensive coil near Mat’s feet. The boys heard the startling ‘‘whir—. r—r’ of its rattle—a sound that is almost inde- seribable, and when once heard is never forgotten—but, before it could make its deadly lunge, one of Mat’s flying feet caught it up and dashed it, with great violence, into the witch-doctor’s face, The cold touch of the rattlesnake did what nothing else could have done; it caused the witch-doctor to relax his grip on Mat’s hair and spring upright. Much as he had handled snakes, and much as he professed to be a snake-charmer, Mr. Johnsing Jones had a wholesome fear of a mad rattler. j A howl came from his lips, and he leaped backward out of harm’s way. Thus released, Mat Ducro scrambled to his feet, and he and Phil looked helplessly about for some way of escape. Bolton and the girl were near the gate, thus preventing them from making a dash in that direction, and heedless of the snake, which was again sounding its rattle, they turned toward the garden. It was the only way that opened. Bolton ran through the gate, and at the same moment the big dog succeeded in breaking the rope, and lunged out, with a murderous growl. All this transpired so quickly that the witch-doctor was barely given time to turn around before the boys were speeding away. ‘Take ’um!” he hissed. ‘Take 'um !’ slapping his hands to urge the dog in pur- suit. ' ‘The scared boys heard the growl of the dog, and ran, with shaking steps, round the corner of the building, and on toward the fence. The fence, however, at this point, was an uncommonly high one, and made of poles set upright. So closely were the poles to- gether that they could not hop® to squeeze through, nor could they readily climb to the top. They saw that they were inatrap. They could not get over the fence, nor could they return to the gate. Immediately the big dog came into view round the corner, his cruel teeth showing, and hoarse growls issuing from his throat. Phil, who still clung to the club, threw himself on the defensive. Mat picked up another club and did likewise; and thus they awaited the dog’s onset. “Take ’um, Tige!” the voodooist howled. The voodooist was the first to make his appearance, though Bolton and the girl were close at his heels. With a vicious snarl, the dog leaped for Mat’s throat. Mat struck wildly and tumbled backward, thus preventing the dog from fastening its teeth. Phil struck, too, and much more success- fully. The heavy poker came down on the dog’s head with stunning force. The dog rolled over with a. howl of sur- prise and pain, and again Phil’s weapon descended. , ; : This last was a most resounding and ef- ? making it read, ‘all foreign fruit, plants,” ete. Asa result of this simple mistake, for 7 Kah ae 4 aif \ ' fective blow, and the dog, bewildered and cowed, leaped backward, tucked its tail be tween its legs, and scudded for the house. — It was a blood-hound, too, and wo never have retreated in that manner if the ~ terrible blows had not half killed it. ; It did not immediately venture out again; — and its whimperings and whinings show how forceful the blows had been. But Lee Bolton and the witch-doctor were — not to be disposed of so easily. j Bolton saw that the boys possessed 20” weapons but the clubs, and when he was” within fifteen or twenty feet of them } stopped. ‘a They had backed into a corner of th fence. The witch-doctor was at Bolton's sid and the girl near, so that all hope of escap@ was cut off. ; Now that he had them where they could not get away, the Captain of the Southen Cross became very deliberate in his mo ments, He cocked the big revolver, twirled th cylinder round and round as if to assul himself that it was in proper working co dition, held the weapon threateningly in BB” right hand, and looked keenly into the boy’ stained faces. ‘“Oho'!” he chuckled. ‘‘That’s a sing® complexion you're wearing, friend Mat. very singular complexion. Perhaps you be good enough to tell me whose was artistic hand that applied it? ‘You area success as a mulatto, but can’t fool me! I know you, and you'd as well surrender, first as last. And chum of yours, too! ‘You did the musician act very welt New Orleans, otherwise I mightn’t be a® to recognize you now.” ; The boys squirmed uneasily. They Ke they were in the power of the Captain ® the Southern Cross. ‘What do you mean to do with us?” ventured to ask. ‘You'll find out soon enough.” “You mean to take me back to prisoB he gasped. ‘‘Well, that would be an easy way to five hundred dollars, I expect! No could object, if I earn the reward myse “But if I refuse to go?” Lee Bolton lifted the revolver still m threateningly. “I don’t think you'll refuse. I can¥ that you are a boy of too much sense that !” The tones were icily suggestive. The blood-hound, having partially ered from the effects of the blows, crawled from under the house agaily, was now slowly advancing, eying the and showing its teeth. Its hair stood in a ridge on its back, ™ its evil, blood-shot eyes struck terror hearts of the boys. “I think you'll both be doing the be some thing by pitching down those elt Bolton coldly suggested. ‘You'll fin@ Lee Bolton is like Time: he waits 02 one !” 5 He took his watch out of his po’ sprung open the case, and held it in 2 hand. al *“T'll give you just a half-minute what thinking you want to do. If you™ throw down your clubs at the end of time, you'll have to take the consequea™ His tones had grown icier and more termined, and the revolver came UP line with Mat’s breast. : CHAPTER XVII FORCED TO SURRENDER. “EN seconds!” Lee Bolton called. _ “Twenty seconds !” The boys did not stir. ‘S'wenty-five seconds!" | It was not in human nature to wi® the strain. Phil and Mat looked other, twisted uneasily, and then @@ down his club. aie ‘You have us in your power, Captal? ton, and you know it !” ee A grim’smile flitted over the feat” the man. ’ “I thought you'd come to your Se"), He still held the watch in his left, counting off the seconds, and pitched down his weapon. pe The grim smile became more prone “Now, come out of that corner 4% | into the house. We'll see that © don't hurt you, and our voodoo take care of the snakes.” Crest-fallen, the boys left the, which they had sought refuge, and o before Bolton, the dog and the ® ing as assistant guards. ‘To seek to escape would be the folly, thus encompassed and thré When they. neared the gate ' v U / Suk nition aka Lal vesee Tm the in, ved ere no was he the ‘ide, cape ould herd ove- | the a gure — QS S$ “8 > — — ry Ss i ont | . 5 ave ) one x ’ .. olf. ae a 4 pure é i. oe i hl 8 collected with much labor from the ¥, Rrep, mh doctor sprang on in advance and securely fastened it; and the boys, though they knew | doctor. the house to be infested with rattlers, were Lee forced to march up the steps and into the| when he had made sure they could not tion. room. The rattlers had crawled away, however, and sought concealment behind various ar- ticles of furniture, so that none of them were to be seen. their scales against the bare floor. Phil and Mat were driven into the farther | speaking of the prisoners, and questioning end of the room, near the big fire-place, and then the witch-doctor hastened to bring‘ out some ropes with which to bind them. He accomplished this with much deft- ness, while Lee Bolton held the boys sub- missively quiet with the fear-inspiring re- volver. As soon as this was done, the old voodoo- ist and his daughter began a lively search for the hidden snakes. The open door lighted the room, and by this light they went about the work sys- tematically. They did not venture to lift the reptiles in their hands, but whenever a snake was found they pinned its head to the floor with a forked stick, and while in this help- less position, it was plucked from the floor by the tail and dropped into a wide-mouthed jar. After a hunt of half an hour all the rat- tlers were recovered, but a few of them had been so much injured by the boys’ clubs that the witch-doctor dispatched them. This, together with the loss of the black snake, which had been his especial pet and favorite, put the voodooist into a par- ticularly bad humor, and there is no doubt he would have been pleased to lay violent hands on the boys, if Bolton had permitted it. The Captain of the Southern Cross had his own idéas, however, as to the disposi- tion to be made of the captives. Both Phil and Mat were in a very uncom- fortable frame of mind, as they sat help- lessly near the big fire-place and watched the recapture ot the snakes. A deep dread of the future inspired them. Mat was sure he was to be returned to prison. Even though the fire-place and chimney Were astonishingly large, these offered no hope, bound as the boys were. As soon as the snakes were all safely stowed again in the jar, Lee Bolton walked back to where the boys were crouching. Singularly enough, he seemed very much at home in the queer room, and going to a Corner, he came back with a tin wash-basin Well filled with water, and a quantity of Soft-soap in a gourd. ‘hen he directed M’liss to untie the hands of his prisoners, while he again drew Out the revolver and stood guard. “Now, I want you to wash that stain off Your hands and faces, so that I can get a 800d look at you!” was his command. “Who daubed it on, anyway? It’s a neat Piece of work !” Not until he repeated the question, did they tell him who had applied the pig- ment. “Mother Ferola, eh?” was his thoughtful fomment. “Seems to me she might have een in better business. If she don’t look out she may get herself arrested.” € was eying Phil Darrow, inquisitively. “And you're a gypsy, too, eh ?” The boy did not answer this, for they Were bowing over the wash-basin and scrub- Ing hard at the stains which Mother Ferola ad so carefully laid on. ‘he stains were not easy to wash away, “nd much scrubbing and many applications ®f the soft-soap were required. But the Mulatto complexions faded at last. When this had been successfully accom- Plished, the bonds were reapplied by Bol- ®n, and drawn so tightly about the wrists the boys that they were painful. ae ul vigorously protested against this, ti i only made Bolton draw the rope still Shter, ' Mat, can see that you’resas big a scamp as Duero, you young hound, and I'll tie © so tight you can’t wriggle !” ie look of hate came into Phil’s black ct Which might have warned Bolton that tion PSY boy was of a revengeful disposi- ny “nd he might drive him too far. da; 8 witch-door was still fuming over the Hage done his valuable property, and was tering up some herbs which had been AOcked down and scattered. They were hi. Amp, and which he esteemed highly in Peculiar medical practice. “tell. Dsing Jones was more than a fortune- *r and snake-charmer. He professed A chilling, suggestive | gether they went into an adjoining room. sound came, now and then, though, which the rattlers made in moving and scraping FOOD Bolton left his hapless prisoners, wriggle out of their bonds, and went back to where the witch-doctor was mumbling and grumbling. Then the captain drew him aside, and to- ‘The girl had disappeared. Soon the voices of Bolton and the witch- doctor were indistinctly heard. Bolton was the old man. The boys strained their ears to catch the sentences that penetrated through the thin partition. They could not understand much at first, but finally they heard Bolton declare: “I’m awful sorry you told anything about that treasure on Malador Island. But I don’t know that it matters, now, for I’ve got the young scamps snug and tight, and they'll not get away in a hurry. “Tf they should get away, though ?” The darky’s reply could not be caught. It seemed plain, however, that Lee Bol- ton did not desire the boys to’go to Malador Island. “Do you know where that island is?” Mat whispered. Phil Darrow nodded. “I think Ido. It’s in the Gulf of Mexico, not far off the mainland, and I don’t think it’s aterrible long way from here! I don’t know, though, exactly; but we could find it!” “If we got the chance,” Mat replied, gloomily enough. Again they heard Bolton’s voice : “I guess I'd better bundle him right back to jail. It'll be the safest. He’ll get a long sentence for taking that money from me !” *What’s Bolton to that old witch-doctor, anyway ?” Phil thoughtfully queried. The question opened a suggestive train of reflection. Plainly, the Captain of the Southern Cross and the old voodooist were not strangers. They had had previous dealings. The cap- tain was familiar with the house, and had sent his servant there with a letter. In addition, here was the captain himself, who had appeared at a most inopportune time for the boys. How did the captain chance to be there ? Why had he come? Had he been able to warn the witch-doctor that the boys were in the vicinity? Surely the witch-doctor had not sent for Lee Bolton, anticipating he might need his help, or to enable Bolton to capture the boys? In trying to get at the facts, they found themselves suddenly plunged into a maze of perplexity. Though speculation seemed useless, they continued to touch on the mystery from time to time, whenever Bolton’s voice was stilled., Finally the talk in the adjoining room ceased, and they heard the two men go out. Left thus alone, the boys began to tug and strain at their bonds. They heard the dog whimpering under him from long distances, when in need of a { his lips, and looked expectantly toward the NEWS. door, for the sound which had attracted him had apparently come from that direc- Mat Duero rolled over and looked the same way. They knew not what to anticipate. Then the open doorway was darkened, and M’liss'stole into the room. She was shoeless, and her footsteps were almost noiseless. Her eyes shone excitedly, and in one hand she carried a knife. It was a long dirk with a keen blade. A look of fear swept over the faces of the helpless prisoners. Did she mean to slay them with that big knife? She had as- sisted them once, but that was before they had done anything to anger her or her father. She stopped, hesitatingly, in the middle of the floor, and bent her head to listen. Then she came on again, as if reassured. Her crouching attitude, her glittering eyes, and the shining blade in her hand, were not calculated to soothe the nerves of the terrified boys. But when the girl drew nearer, they saw there was no anger in her face. “Marse Bolton and paw are bofe gone away,” she whispered, sinking down at Phil’s bide. ‘Dey ar’ oveh in de little ter- backer patch; but I don’ know how soon dey’ll be comin’ back !” With this, she drew the keen blade of the dirk across the cords that held Phil’s hands, “You are going to let us loose?” the lad whispered, in a thrill of ecstacy. ‘‘Don’ you neveh breave ob dis heah what I'm a-doin’ foh yo’, boy!” she cautioned, the dirk falling again and again. ‘Marse Bolton ‘u’'d kill me, sho’; an’ paw ’u’d whup me in a inch o’ my life !’’ Both were eager in their promises of strict secrecy, and she slashed away until Phil was free. After this she turned to Mat, and served him in the same manner. Then she thrust the keen knife into Mat’s hand. “Tek dis heah! fo’ you gits away !” The boys were wild to rush from the room, but she restrained them with a ges- ture, and went alone to the door. When she had satisfied herself that the coast was still clear, she beckoned to them. “Dah’s de gate, an’ yonder is de woods. I reckon yo’ kin fin’ de boat. Look out foli de ‘gators !” They thanked her, then hurried through the gate and ran with breathless haste for the shelter of the woods. ‘But their limbs were so stiff and swollen that their progress was at best slow. When they had gained the dark cover they looked back at the house. They saw M’liss glide into the timber in another direction, and knew that she meant to remain away from the house until her father’s anger had time to cool, or until the departure of Lee Bolton. A short time was required to restore the circulation, so that they could walk with anything like ease, and then they hastened Mebbe you'll need it the house, but not another sound. The owl stared at them now and then | from his queer perch, and cocked his large } head sidewise in a most knowing manner ; but he was a very discreet owl, and did not hoot out an alarm when he saw the boys | twisting and writhing. Though they pulled and panted, and | strove with such desperate energy that the cords were driven cruelly into the flesh, and the sweat made to pour in streams from their faces, their efforts were unavailing. They only succeeded in sinking the cords deeper and deeper and in drawing the knots tighter and tighter. “I give it up!’ Mat panted, at last, with avery red and disconsolate face. ‘We'll just have to stay here till Bolton comes for us.” CHAPTER XVIII. A RACE FOR LIFE. ARK!” fe] It was a whispered exclamation Se. from Phil Darrow. Phil had been lying for a long time with his head against the floor, finding that attitude easiest. A number of hours had passed, during which no sound had come except the whim- pering of the dog, which had evidently been again tied up. No human foot had passed the threshold, and no human being seemed near. The boys had ceased to strain at their bonds, having discovered how utterly futile t healing powers, and, though he was feared by the negroes, they came to down the dim path toward the lagoon. They found the boat where it had been left by the girl, and leaped into it, heedless of the alligators. They much preferred the perils of the lagoon to what they were leay- ing. : The big barge, however, was a much safer craft than the little boat in which they had first endeavored to cross. The alligators were aroused by the move- ment of the barge, and swarmed around in as vicious a manner as before. They made savage dashes, too, at the pole which the boys were using, but no mishap befell the scared navigators, and the opposite shore was soon gained. But before that was accomplished there fell on their ears the deep baying of the blood-hound. That caused them to quake with terror. It informed them that Lee Bolton and the witch-doctor had returned to the house, that their escape had been discovered, and that the blood-hound had been put on their trail. “The dog can’t trail us across the water,” Mat suggested, trying to be hopeful. “No; but he can lead ’em to the water. And when they get there, they can see the boat on this side, and then the dog can pick up our tracks again.” There was’only one thing that promised safety. The barge was on their side of the lagoon, and, with that’ lagoon swarming with alligators, their pursuers could not cross until another boat was secured, Clutching at this straw, the boys dived in- to the forest again, and rushed away for dear life. were such attempts. Phil sat up, as the exclamation passed They feared to continue straight on, and turned from the path atthe first favorable 3543 opportunity, plunging into the depths of the untried wilderness. However, they kept as near as they could in the direction of the gypsy camp, and tore through the creepers and intertwining plants with savage fury, It was a mistake to leave the well-trodden path for the morasses and the choked ani- mal trails, and this they were not long in discovering. It was too late to turn back, though, and so they fought their way foot by foot and yard by yard until their clothing was torn and their hands scratched and bleeding. Then there sounded again the deep bay of the hound, and they knew that the lagoon had been crossed and that the dog was again following them. They had accomplished a considerable distance, however, in spite of the many difficulties, and they were more encouraged now, when they saw that the woods. were gradually opening and the detaining vines less numerous, Mat clung to the knife, which he had used to good advantage in opening a way through the thickets of the jungle, and he now hacked again at the creepers in his struggle to gain the higher ground. The worst of the path was already behind them. That keen dirk was an inestimable treas- ure, and the time might quickly come when Mat would wish to use it against something fiercer and more savage than the vines of the forest. When the jungle had been cleared and the woodland lay open before them, they sprang away with an increasing hope. The earth was treacherous, though, in places, and they were forced to closely scrutinize all boggy spots before venturing to cross them. Impelled by their fear, they ran with con- siderable speed, in spite of the fatigue that was telling on them. But fast as they ran, the deep bay of the blood-hound sounded ever nearer and nearer. It was plain that the dog was leaving its human companions far behind. At ‘last the hound dashed through the jungle and came leaping into view, its deep- toned notes growing louder and more men- acing as it caught sight of the boys. The tired fugitives paled when they be- held the dog and dimly realized the charac- ter of the trouble that lay in store. With but one knife, their chances of killing or seriously crippling it were not good. remembering how he had laid out the dog in the yard. A lucky blow might enable him to do it again. Closer and closer came the blood-hound, its harsh growls sounding between the booming notes. “We can’t make it by running!” Mat panted. ‘We'll have to stop and fight him!” Just in front of Mat, and only a short dis- tance away, was a big log, screened in the direction of the hound by alow growth of bushes. Near it was a tree, with spreading branches that almost touched the earth. “Climb that tree, Phil! Climb that tree !” was Mat’s hasty command. As he said it, he leaped for the log, and threw himself behind it, with the knife held firmly. Phil saw what Mat meant to*do, and was about to object, when the latter again urged him. “There's no time to lose: Climb up that tree, I tell you! Ill look out for the dog.” Thus commanded, Phil sprang over the log and climbed quickly into the drooping branches. The blood-hound fixed its eyes on the boy in the tree and dashed savagely \forward, and Mat lifted the knife, intending to drive it into the dog's body as it passed over the log! ' (TO BE CONTINUED.) diag hciein eee gn HEARING A FLY WALK. The microphone makes the sounds of a fly’s footsteps perfectly audible, The ap- paratus consists of a box, with a strong sheet of paper stretched over it in place of the customary lid. Two carbons, separated by a thin strip of wood, and connected by two wires charged with electricity, are fast- ened to it and connected with a carbon pencil which communicates with the paper tympanum. When everything is in readi- ness, and the ear is held to the sounding trumpet, a fly allowed to cross the paper makes a sound which to the listener is equal to the noise made by a horse crossing a bridge. —__~>-ee___ Tue first newspaper advertisement ap- peared in 1682. However, Phil picked up a club as he ran, . THE FACTS ABOUT OUR COW. ISSUED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, AUGUST 4, 1894. Terms to Good News Mail Subscribers: (PosvaGE FRE.) 65c. | One Year - - = - gsc, | 2copies,one year- - 4.06 25 | 1 copy. two years - - 4.06 WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.5( By post-office or Bmonths - - - - - 4months - - - - - 6months - - - -.- &l Goop News AND N. Y. How ‘ro SEND MONEY. money order, rexistered letter, at our risk. At your own risk, currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. RENEWALS.—Lhe number indicated on your rn promptly at expiration label denotes when your subseription expires. subscriptions will be stopped of time paid for. ReEceters.— Recei by proper change of number on your label. If not cor rect you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. TO CLuB KAtsEns.— req 1 ple copies to aia you in obtaining subscribers. AGENTS.—Our responsibility for remittances a yplies as are sent to us direct, and we will not only to such Cm) guarantee the reliability of any subscription agency or postinaster. All letters should be addressed to STREET & SMITH’S GOOD NEWS, 27 & 20 Rose Street, N.Y. s ga PG AB rete SO aa can always be If they do not direct to this office and we Back numbers of GOOD- NEWS obtained from your Newsdealers. haye them please send will supply them by mail on receipt of price. Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line. ~ $2.50 express bank check or draft, if sent by postal note, ptof your remittance ts acknowledged Upon request we will send sam- COQ) BY MAX ADELER, ilidgh uliplanabe asst summer we bought a cow, so de that we could have our own milk, —4 and make our own butter, and get fresh cream for our coffee. She was ared and white cow, with twisted horns, and the man who sold her to me said she was a capital milker,and the reason was that she had such asplendid appetite. He }| said that she was the easiest cow with her | feed that he ever saw; she would eat almost anything, and she was generally hungry. At the end of the first week after she came we concluded to churn. The hired man spent the whole day at the crank, and about sunset the butter came. We got it out, and found that there was almost half a pound. Then I began to see how econom- ical it was to make our own butter. A half- pound at the store cost thirty cents. The wages of that man for one day were two dollars, and so our butter was costing us about four dollars a pound without count- ing the keep of the cow. When we tried the butter it was so poor we couldn’t eat it, and I gave it to the man to grease the wheel- barrow with. Itseemed somewhat luxuri- ous and princely to maintain a cow for the purpose of supplying grease at four dollars a pound for the wheelbarrow; but it was hard to see precisely where the profit came in. After about a fortnight our cow seemed ~ Contents of this Number. SERIAL STORIES. “Tom Truxton’s Ucean Trip,” by. Harvey ' Hicks. “Scouts of the Swamp Fox,” by Joseph E. Badger, Jr. f “Among the Gypsies,” by John H, Whit- son, “The Boy From the West,” by Harry Dangerfield. “Blne and White Sam,” Young. “The Pluck of a Pilot,” by Lounsberry. SHORT STORIES. “The Facts About Our Cow,” by Max Ad- eler. “How Do Tigers Secure Their Prey 2 “The Story of an Ugly Boy,” by M. E. Ropes. “The Mad Jackal,” by J. H. Gray. “The Mirage,” by P, A. Vinal. “The Flagstaff on the ower,” by Warren Bell. “Caught in the Coils,” “In the Woods,” by Archie C. Irons. by Ernest A. Lieut. Lionel REGULAR DEPARTMENTS, “Short Talks With the Boys,” by Arthur Sewall.- “Ticklets,” by-Chas. W. Foster. “Mail Bag,” ‘“‘Ixchange Department,” “Club Notices,” ete. T Boys! TAKE NOTICE! and kindly oblige us by informing your friends that in next week’s number will be begun a capital story by one of your favorite authors, EDWARD STRATEMEYER, entitled, TARRY THE. WANDERER; OR, HE UPS AND DOWN OF A KNOCK ABOUT, In rapid succession will follow stories by a ENRIQUE H. LEWIS, “WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON, EMERSON BELL, Beare LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY, VICTOR ST. CLAIR. HARRY DANGERFIELD. ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE, ERNEST A. YOUNG, | ARTHUR WINFIELD, at x { ‘ columns. ei and several contributors: new to these so'unhappy in the stable that we turned her out in the yard. The first night she was loose she upset the grape arbor with her horns, and ate four young peach trees and a dwarf pear tree down to the roots. The next day we gave her as much hay as she would eat, and it seemed Jikely that her appetite was ap- peased. But an hour or two afterward she swallowed six croquet balls that were lying upon the grass, and ate halfa table-cloth and a pair of drawers from the clothes-line. That evening her milk seemed thin, and I attributed it to the indigestibility of the table-cloth. During the night she must have got to walking in her sleep, for she climbed over the fence and hooked two of Cooley’s pigs that were lying in the garden, and when she was discovered she was swallowing one of Mrs. Cooley’s hoop skirts. That evening she ran dry and didn’t give any milk at all. I suppose the exercise she had taken must have been too severe, and probably the hoop skirt was not sufficiently nutritious. It was comforting, however, to reflect that she was less expensive from the latter point of view when she was dry than when she was fresh. Next morning she ate the spout off of the watering-pot, and then put her head in at the kitchen window and devoured two din- ner plates and the cream jug. Then she went out and lay down on our best straw- berry bed to think, While there something about Cooley’s boy seemed to exasperate her, and when he came over into our yard after his ball she inserted her horns in his trousers and flung him across the fence, ‘hen she went to the stable and ate a litter of pups and three feet of trace-chain. I felt certain that her former owner didn’t deceive me when he said her appetite was good, She had hunger enough for a drove of cattle and a couple of flocks of sheep. That day I went after the butcher to get him to buy her. When I returned with him she had just eaten the monkey-wrench and the screw-driver, and she was trying to put away a fence-paling. The butcher said she was a fair enough sort of cow, but she was too thin. He said he would buy her if I would feed her up and fatten her; and I said I would try. We gave her that night food enough for four cows, and she con- sumed it as if she had been upon half rations fora month. When she finished, she got up, reached for the hired man’s straw hat, ato it, and then bolting out into the garden, she pnt away our honeysuckle vine, a coil of India-rubber hose, and the knob off of the smoke-house door. The man said that if it was his cow he would kill her; and I told him he had perhaps better just knock her on the head in the morn- ing. Sache the night she had another attack of somnambulism, and while wandering about she ate the door-mat from the front porch, bit off all the fancy work on top of the cast-iron gate, swallowed six loose bricks that were piled up against the house, and then had a fit among our rose bushes. When we came down in the morning she seemed to be breathing her last, but she had that I held in my hand, and when that was down she gave three or four kicks and rolled over and expired. It cost me three dollars j ee enough left to seize &® newspaper NEWS. — to have the carcass removed. Since then we have bought our butter and milk, and given up all kinds of live stock. * >> (AY (r SHORT (fALKS == WITH EDITED BY ARTHUR SEWALL, ——— BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. Qo ay T is absolutely necessary to believe in if yourself if you want to make money. I do not mean that you must think your- self smarter than any one else, for that would be conceit; it would ruin you, even if you were the wisest man alive. But | do mean that you, and you alone, must ‘be the master of your own fortune, and if you don’t believe this thoroughly you had better let business alone until you have changed your mind. Maybe you will say that a dozen, or a hun- dred, or perhaps a thousand men are work- ing on the same line as you, and some of them must be smarter. Very true; but until they know what you are doing you are master of the situation, so far as you are concerned. General Sherman says the worst bother he had during the war was when Joe Johnston was superseded by General Hood. Old “Tecumseh” always knew what Johnston would do in cértain circumstances, but Hood, although a splendid fellow and as brave as a lion, was not as smart as either, so his operations puzzled Sherman fright- fully, and kept the old man awake 0’ nile. Don’t forget the old saying, ‘A cat may look at a king.” The king is twenty times larger, and has men, money, and machinery to do whatever he may like; nevertheless, in a foot-race between the two, the cat will beat the king and have time to make her toilet before the king gets done swearing at his disappointment. The king has a thousand interests of his own and other people’s to look after, while the cat has only her own. which are few, so she generally succeeds in having her own way; while his majesty, if he attends to business, works harder for his living than any common lahorer you ever heard of. Your humble servant, the writer, has a pretty good opinion of himself. For a year, however, he has beén frequently beaten by a small family of mice. ‘They have made up their minds to live in his house, and they do it. He has tried noises and traps; he has stopped their holes, and even resorted to poison until his house smelled like an offal heap, yet those confounded mice continue to live in the house and have a jolly reunion once in awhile right under the floor or the hearth-stone.'| The owner has to think about a hundred things besides the mice—the mice have but one interest, whichis to look out for themselves. You are smarter than a mouse, aren’t you? You certainly think you are. Of course you don’t want to take the risk of getting right under some other person’s feet, neither would anybody but a lunatic, All you have to do is to keep your mind on your own in- terests, and believe in yourself so long as you are the only person who knows your plans. The least you have to fear is from those who are most important in whatever may be the line of business you have se- lected. Sharks do not snap at minnows— they are too busily engaged in watching for bigger game. You have little or nothing to fear until you show your hand. “There is a lion in the way (road); I shall be slain,’ said the timid man, according to the Bible; but every night thousands of men who trust themselves go over dark and lonely roads without meeting a lion, or even a Tit Believe in yourself, if you want to make money. ‘There is nobody else, this side of heaven, upon whom you have any right to lean in business affairs. Next week we shall have something to say as to the advisability of attending to one thing at a time. We have a large amount of letters asking for advice, and can reply only to a few in each issue of Goop News. So don’t get dis- courged, boys, if you are not answered at once. We do not forget you, and each one’s turn will come in time. ieee Ghitecesnedl L. R. D., Archased, Pa., writes: “IT am 17 at of age, and Lam especially desirous of yecoming a newspaper writer. Through the influence of a friend I can at any time secure a position on a large daily in an adjoining city as correspondent. But I fear I have not sufti- cient education to retain it, and I would suffer L wif the humiliation and disgrace of being dis- charged as incompetent after a few weeks’ service. Would there be any possible chance of educating myself at home so that I could do it on a small scalé at first? Would it be advis- able for me to read the leading magazines, ete.? Also let me know what studies I should take up to accomplish that which Iam desirous of attaining ?”’ Don’t be too modest. It is as dangerous to underrate your abilities as to overrate them. “Nothing venture, nothing win.” We all of us haveto make a start some time, and there has been a moment in the life of every man of success when he placed his foot on the lowest round of the ladder. From your letter your education is fair. Of course you can study at home. Read all - the papersand magazines you can, especially the articles in the line you intend to adopt. Mrs. Glass’ famous recipe for hare soup began, ‘First catch your hare,” and our ad- vice to young writers is, ‘First catch your — idea.” Be sure you have something to write about, and then put it in the best words you know how. By the way, avoid anything approaching the ‘‘flowery.” The simplest words are more than often the most effective. DEANE, Holyoke, Mass., writes: “I have been — ‘an interested reader of your splendid paper for several years; therefore I make bold to ask your advice concerning my future. I alm twenty-four years of age, have worked ever” since my twelfth year, and on account of | having left school so soon am possessed of not — mueh education. But I am ambitious, and have always carefully saved my wages, hoping some time to be able to enter college. With what little education I have now, to even think of being able to pass a college examination is of course foolish. Should I enter a prepara- tory school, and, after leaving, enter college, [ would be nearly thirty years old upon graduat- ing.” At your age we strongly advise you to give up all idea of a collegiate course. As you say, you would then be thirty years old. At that age a man should be well started on his’ career in life. We do not know that we entirely believe in a college course for the ayerage boy, un- less he intends to take up one of the profes- sions. A boy who has graduated from @ © high school is pretty well equipped to carry — on his education by himself. It is astonish- ing how much can be learned by a system- atic and intelligent course of reading. Any bright boy, who has a certain amount of education, can master a large number 0 branches by himself. " Go to the best educated man you know, | tell him what you are especially interested in, and ask him to tell you how to go to work to improve yourself, what text-books to study, and what to read generally. G. T., Cleveland, Ohio, writes: ‘Iam sixtee years old, and desire to be a newspaper re- porter, Lattended public school, and stoppet at the seventh grade, I now go to a business college. Is it necessary to be a shortham writer? Is reporting a good business? What is the average pay? Can you give mea list 0 books that would be helpful to read and study ? I work during the daytime and attend business — college at night. I receive $4.65 per week in an office, where | am at present working. I have been to see a city editor, who will give me a chance when there is a vacancy.” ‘ Yes, on the whole, we think the busine of a reporter is a good one, more for what # is apt to lead to, however, than anything else. It is not necessary to be able to writé shorthand, although on occasions it wou prove useful. ; If you write on space, as will probably be, the case at first, the pay is small; but eve? then, on a large city daily, you ought 9 make more than you are doing now. a A regularly engaged reporter makes from ( fifteen to thirty dollars a week; and if be bright, can increase that by outside work. , Study the papers and see how a “story as it is called, is worked up. iam “The first essential is to write correctlY, Purchase a book on rhetoric, and study ? carefully, It would be a good idea to writ? fictitious articles, and give them to 80! competent person to correct. You will the’ know what faults of composition to avoid: _ SpreciaL Noticr.— Many communi tions, improperly addressed to this artment, are answered in the * Bag.” a THAT 1S THE QUESTION. In riding in railway trains you may bi observed the peculiarity of dogs in after a train. One day, in a swiftly-m° train, I saw a big yellow dog doing this and nearly breaking his back to cate train. I watched his efforts with *) curiosity, and a man in the seat in front me was doing the same thing. Whe? oy” dog gave up the chase, the man 12° turned to me and said : “Excuse me, but I would like to @°° a question. I want to ask you what think that dog would have done Ww train if he had caught it ?” y agin — ee JT a ae mY VS Cr le eS, = eS eee ee eS YS Sor RR FD ae eh — e Cue te (This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. | pCOUTS OF TH 4 OWAMP FOX) OR. ah. AOU Gael