mn bee a WW. ne a ee N ¢ Pe ee AN Be aA 2 fa . tn the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washingion, D. C. Entered as Second-cie Watier at the New Yoriz:, N. Y.. Post- Office. onde he nt eh aa ae a eee ee ee eh el ee) ee ee earn le New York, August 18, 1894. merci Jo. 224, 4 ie | ‘*Let’s search you.” | Then Larry resolyed to waste no mor® L A rs R i.e if E, WA N 8. F RE R ‘Excuse me, but you’ve got to take my| time. He hauled back, and the next mo- word,” replied Larry, sharply, his eyes| ment Limpy received a crack between the |flashing. .‘‘I won’t allow two bums to ride} eyes which made him sex : | over me.” “He's busted me eye out!’ shrieked the cy a ‘ i sel ete aoe } “See here, don’t git fresh !” howled tramp, staggering back. “Go for him, THE UPS AND DOWNS OF A KNOCKABODT. | Darry. «We an’t used to it; see? Fork|Darry! Mash his head wid the club !” a susie. | over, and be blamed quick about it, too.” Darr) jumped forward to. do as bidden. BYYEDWARD STRATEMEYER Instead of taking notice of this last order, He was & powerful fellow, and had the a 4 | Larry turned upon Limpy and tried to free} blow landed as intended, Larry’s head Author of “Shorthand Tom,” “Camera Bob,” ‘Joe the Surveyor,” ete. himself. would certainly have sustained a seriou ——- | But the smaller tramp’s grip was a good | injury. [“LARRY THE WANDERER” was commenced last. week.) one, and although the sleeve of the boy’s But, as before, the boy dodged A hand- Be jacket Was torn in several places, the hold|to-hand struggle ensued, and, thé two ‘Hold on there!” he shouted. “What is | ¥a8 not broken. | fought desperately for fully three minutes. OR, * CHAPTER V. | | > meaning of this outrage ?” A FRIEND IN NEED. ‘““We’re bound to have that boodle,”’ a | growled Darry, the larger of the toughs. “AARRY had hardly expected that the} <“T told you I had no money,” replied / two tramps, Limpy and Darry,|Tarry. “I’ve got a few cents, and that’s would.attack him. Bie But when he saw the latter ad- | “We don’t believe that,” put in Limpy, vance upon him, club in hand, he realized | who still retained his hold upon the boy’s that the time for decisive! action ‘had ar- ! arm. ; rived. | $T+’s the truth,” - . | | { | i Hl li ll A CRASH FOLLOWED, AND THE BOW OF THE CRAFT BELONGING TO THE ARTIST WEN OF THE B CH THE SPORTY YOUNG WAS SITTING. “YOU RASCAL!” SPLUTTERED GREGORY KENNINGTON. “LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!” 3570 Limpy had somewhat re- eovered, and now he came to his com- panion’s assistance. Creeping up behind Larry, he caught the boy by the left leg and threw him down at Darry’s feet. “Now’s your chance, Darry !” “Finish him up !” Again Darry raised the club, and this time it certainly seemed that poor Larry was in for it. ‘Hold up there! What does this mean ?” It was a stern voice’ from the bridge, but a few feet away. The speaker was Howard Bruin. The artist was seated on a low buckboard, attached to a single horse. His face was filled with alarm and indignation. “Don’t you dare to hit that boy,” went on Howard Bruin, as he sprang to the ground. “If you do I'll have you both in the Cleve- land lock-up inside ‘of the hour.” “They're a couple of rascals!’ shouted Larry, as, taking advantage of the inter- ruption, he sprang to his feet. ‘‘Don’t let them get away, Mr. Bruin.” ‘“‘We had better-sneak,’’ whispered Darry to Limpy. ‘That ran’s a bad one when he’s woke up. He’s the feller I lifted the chicken from the other night.” “And got fired at; I know,” returned Limpy. ‘Come on, Darry, der game’s up.” Both tramps turned and made a dash for the woods across the road. In less than sixty seconds they were out of sight and hearing. At first Larry thought to follow them, but he changed his mind, and joined Mr. Bruin by the side of the buckboard. ‘How did they come to attack you?” questioned the artist, with a smile at Larry’s wet and muddy clothing. ‘They thought I got a reward for helping the girl, and they wanted to take it away from me. “Humph! You were having a pretty lively time of it when I came up.” “Yes; dnd I’m glad you arrived when you did. I suppose those chaps would kill a man for a dollar.” ‘Perhaps. I drove around to see what had become of you. Jump in.” Larry took a seat on the tail-end of the buckboard, declaring himself too wet to sit beside the artist, who had put on a dry suit, and the horse’s head was turged back over the road he had come. It did not take long to reach the artist’s residence. Once there, .Howard Bruin hunted upja suit and some underclothing for Larry, and made the boy put them on. “They are not the best in the world, but they are better than your old ‘ones, and I want you to keep them,’ he said. When Larry had dressed himself he had to tell his story of what had occurred on the other side of the stream, at the point which had been out of Howard Bruin’s sight. Ge, artist listened with close atten- tion. “You mustn't dderont much from Mrs. Noxwell,” he said. ‘She is known as the meanest woman in this county.” “J don’t want anything,” replied Larry, promptly. ‘I didn’t do the girl a service for what I could get out of it.” ‘Well, Mrs. Noxwell could well afford to do the handsome thing by you—she’s rich enough ; but [ doubt if “she does anything.” ‘Perhaps I won’t let her do anything, even if she tries. Say !” Well ?” “Do you know this Mrs. Kennington ?” “Not very well. I understand, though, that she is a very fine lady.” ‘She asked me a pile of questions.” “T suppose she was curious to know something concerning sucha hero, and——” “Hold on, Mr. Bruin. I’m no hero.” “Yes, you are.” “Not much. IT’m an everyday boy, down on my luck. And, say!” “What now ?” “That barn an’t cleaned up yet. going down and finish up the job.” + “Very well, Larry. And you can stay to dinner if you wish.” “Thanks ; I never refuse feed ; it’s my one wéakness. When you want me you can whistle.” And without further words Larry left the house, ‘breaking out into a lively whistle as soon as he was outdoors, ‘‘An odd sort, but a boy to my liking,” thought, Howard Bruin, “I wish I had work for him here, I would like to study him.” Once down in the barn Larry set to work with a will. The structure was cleaned in every part, and then he began on the har- ness, polishing up the metal pieces until they shone like mirrors, and oiling the leather work. He was just finishing up when there came a loud whistle from the house. By that time he cried. ”? ‘Tm | said the artist. et LD | «Can’t be dinner time yet,” he thought, as he put the last of the harness away. As he approached the house he saw an old colored man sitting on the porch bench, talking to Howard Bruin. ‘Larry, here’s a messenger to see you,” “This is Abe Jackson. He works for Mrs. Noxwell.’ “Am yo’ de young gen ’‘man wot saved Miss Maud’s life ?” asked the negro, rising. “Well, I did something of that sort,” re- plied Larry, modestly. ‘Den Mrs. Noxwell tole me to tell yo’ dat she’d be mighty please sd. if yo" would cum up to de house an’ call on her. Larry looked at Howard Bruin, as much as to say, ““What shall I do?” “Might as well go, Larry,” said the artist. ‘Don’t let what I said iold you back.” ‘All right, then,” said Larry. A few minutes later he and the colored man were on the way. CHAPTER VI. LARRY LEARNS SOMETHING. 7 4 ARRY found the negro rather a / talkative person, and on the road gained considerable knowledge con- cerning Mrs. Noxwell and her only daughter Maud. ‘She am a werry close pussun,” said Abe Jackson. ‘*I reckon she’s about de closes pussun yo’ kin meet in a day’s trabels.”’ ‘Well, what does she want of me?” ques- tioned Larry. “Dat I can’t say. She t’inks a heap ob dat gal Maud, and mebbe she wants to show yo’ her ’preciation ob de situation.” “T don’t want anything of her,” returned the boy, briefly. “Well, I reckon wot she gibs yo’ won't break yo’ back to carry away,” grinned Abe. Larry found the Noxwell mansion a very fine one. Itfronted on the main road, while the rear of the spacious grounds sloped down to the river. Abe Jackson ushered Larry into a mag- nificently-furnished hallway and motioned him to a seat. “Tll dun call de missus,” he said, and disappeared behind some heavy curtains which screened the parlor. “Tl have to do something for the boy,” Larry heard a high-pitched and rather dis- agreeable voice say in a back room. ‘‘It won't look well if I don’t. The-neighbors would all talk about me.’ “He looked like a nice boy, but I guess he was a. tramp,” came tlie” ‘reply, in the voice of the girl Larry had saved. “*A tramp ? ? WwW ell, we'll soon see. If he’s merely a tramp, rll give him a dollar and his dinner and let him go.’ Then the voices suddenly ceased, and there was a rustle of silk. ’ “She’s just what Mr. Bruin said she was,’ thought Larry. “I want nothing from her —wouldn’t take it if I was starving.” Larry was kept waiting for nearly ten min- utes. Then Abe Jackson came and ushered him into the parlor. “Here is de young gen’man, Mrs. Nox- well,” he said, and disappeared. “So you are the young man who—ah— assisted my daughter when she had fallen into the water,” said Mrs. Noxwell, survey- ing Larry sharply from head to foot. “Well, I did help her a little,” responded the boy, ‘briefly. “Of course Maud might have saved her- self, but lam very thankful to you for—ah —what you did.” ‘You are welcome, madame.” Larry’s brief speech seemed to arouse Mrs. Noxwell, and again she looked him over from head to foot. Then a slight frown rested on her’ unusually high forehead. “Do you—that is, are you employed around here?” she asked. ‘No, madame, I’m out of a job.” “Do you belong in Cleveland ?” ‘Well, that’s the last town I was in, but I come from Philadelphia.” “Ah, I see, and out of employment. bad! Have you—ah—had dinner ?” “Not yet. ~I am to dine with , Mr. Bruin, but came over here because your man said you wished to see me.” “Mr. Bruin? Are you-—what brings you to his place?” cried Mrs. Noxwell, and by her manner it was plain to see that there was no love lost between herself and the artist. “Fortune, madame. And I find him a very nice man,” added Larry, who thought he saw a way of getting square for thé insult- ing remarks she had let fall concerning him. |) “He may be—to some, I have a different opinion,” replied the lady, haughtily. ‘But that has nothing to do with the matter at hand. As you are to dine with hin, it will be useless to ask you to dine here. But I ‘wish to reward you for your slight services ” ev: ‘tii housékeeper. Too | ¥ IN 5 WwW Ss. tomy daughter ;’ here Mrs. Noxwell brought out her purse. ‘Allow me re present you with this bill in her behalf.” And she held out a dollar Larry. “No, thank you, I plied, drawing back. If ever there was a surprised woman that woman was Mrs. Amanda Noxwell. She could not.believe that she had heard aright. “Did you—did you say you didn’t wish it?” she asked. “That's it, madame.” “But—but—— ie “It was only a slight service—not worth paying for,” returned Larry, with a fine sar- casm which was entirely lost on the would- be lady before him. Yes, but you--don’t you need the money, young man?” ‘‘Yes—weall need money,” Larry laughed. “But I prefer to work for what I get. I don’t live on charity.” Something in Larry’s tone caused Mrs. Noxwell to spruce up. “Young man, are you— she demanded. “Just what I said.” “You are impertinent.” ‘Then what did you want to offer mea dollar for? I’m not in need of your money. Did you wish to see me about anything else ?” ‘Really, you are the rudest young man I ever saw!” shereturned, tartly. ‘‘A tramp, and won’t accept a dollar from one who wishes to do you a great service.” “I prefer to stand ‘on my own bottom, madame ; that’s all.” “Very well, then. But I can see your idea. You wanted me to increase the amount. But I won’t do it. You didn’t do much. Any one could have done it.” “Is there anything else you Wish to see me about ?” ‘Certainly not.” “Then I'll take pleasure in leaving your place. Good day.” Mrs. Amanda Noxwell merely looked at him, an expression intended for deep scorn upon her face. A second later Larry was out of the mansion and on his way back to Howard Bruin’s residence. ‘‘Well, she’s the worst I ever struck!” he declared to himself. “By jinks! but she made me mad as soon, as she opened her mouth. I wouldn’t want to work for her, [ll bet Abe Jackson has no picnic of it,”, When he'arrived at the artist's house he found dinner just being served by Maggie, Howard Bruin smiled at bill toward don’t wish it,” he re- what do you mean?” him as he entered. ‘Did you have a nice time ?” he asked, as he motioned Larry to a seat at the table. ‘She is a—a tartar!” burst out Larry. “She thought she was going to do something big by offering me—what do you think? a dollar! It wasn’t the money, but her man- ner would provoke a saint.” “You are right there, Larry ; I know her like a book. I onee had a lawsuit with her over some property along the river, and I found out just what she was.’ “T hope you bested her ?” ‘I did. JI was in the right and I won the case. But she fought it tooth and nail to the end. Another case is now pending.” “And now you are bitter enemies.” “Worse than that. She has circulated stories about me, and she has made some folks in this neighborhood believe that I was not honest—as I told you when we first met,” “Well, such a woman is worse than a ser- pent,” declared Larry. How true his words were to prove will be shown in the chapters which follow. CHAPTER VIL. A DEED OF DARKNESS, 7 OWARD BRUIN was:so taken with Al Larry’s manner that when the mid- AL day meal was over he irivited the boy to go fishing with him, saying he could stay at the place over night ‘if he so wished. “And to-morrow I'll drive to Cleveland with you and see if I can’t. get you some sort of a place,” the artist added. This proposition just suited the boy, who was growing weary of tramping from place to place looking for a situation, and he did not hesitate to accept the kind offer. “T’m in no mental condition to work, so Yl knock off for the day,” Howard Bruin observed. ‘We'll go up to Eagle Lake and try onr luck.” “Eagle Lake?” observed Larry. ‘That’s the sheet of water upon. which’ Mrs. Ken- nington’s house is situated.” “Yes ; Pll point the house out to you on the way to the fishing cove.’ The two were soon on the way, and when cried. i : , Lake was reached, the artist led the where a fine flat-bottom boat was Eagle way to moored. “Can you row, Larry?” “Oh, yes ; I’ve rowed on the Harlem Riv- er and on the Delaware,” returned the boy. He was soon’ seated at the oars, and proved a good stroke. “There is Mrs. Kennington’s residence,” said the artist, presently, as he pointed to a fine mansion painted pure white, and. sur- rounded by bushes and trees. Larry looked at the place, and after a mo- ment of silence his brow grew perplexed. ‘‘What’s the matter ?” questioned his com- panion. ‘Anything wrong?” “T was just thinking, or trying to think,” returned the boy, slow ly. “Tt seems to me I’ve seen some place like that before.” “Quite likely. There are a number of such residences scattered throughout the country. That style of architecture is pe- culiar to this section.” “T don’t mean that. I mean that I was thinking I had seena place exactly like this.” ‘‘Were you ever here before?” “No.” ‘“Humph! Well, there may be such ‘a house on such a lake as this somewhere.” ‘‘T suppose that’s it.” “A boatis putting off from Mrs, Kenning- ton’s dock,” observed Howard Bruin, a mo- ment later. “There is a young fellow Larry. ‘‘Who is he?” “That is Gregory widow’s only son.” ‘Then she is a widow ®’ “Yes. This Gregory is a good-for- nothing, amd I understand he nearly wor- ries the life ‘out of his mother. “It’s a pity his father isn’t alive to take him in hand, then.” / “That's true.’ He has it too easy, you see. He ought to be thrown out on his ow n resources.’ “Like Larry. 4 “Exactly, Larry. Though you may not know it, roughing it has made a good deal of the man of you.” ‘I believe you, sir. I’ve found out I’m not of so great importance, after all, and I know ‘a good thing when I see it—a snap like this, for instance,” and again the boy laughed. The man joined it. “You are an odd sort in some ways,” he said. ‘And you-— Here comes Gregory Kennington !” fj As he concluded, the other boat came up within hailing distance. “Hullo, Bruin! sang out the young man at the oars. He was smoking a cigarette, and had quite a sporty air attached to him. i “How are you, Gregory?” returned the artist, somewhat stiffly. “Out for a row ?” “We are going fishing.” “Oh! Say, want to race?” went on the young man, addressing Larry. “T wouldn’t mind.” “T’ll bet you a dollar T'll beat you.” “Thanks, but I haven’t a dollar to bet.” “Bet you a good cigar, or the drinks.” “J don’t smoke or drink.” “Phew! You must be a genuine midel !” whistled Gregory Kennington. SI am.’; “You're cool about sporty young man. “Why not? It’s too warm a day to get worked'up.” “Say, Ill race you for nothing. on, if you dare !” Gregory Kennington threw away the end of his cigarette and bent to the oars. His craft soon shot ahead several yards. “Tl go you !” cried Larry. ‘Tl beat him if I have to burst every button off!’ he de- clared to his companion. ‘‘Please sit right in the middle of the seat, will you ?” “ Certainly, Larry. But don’t kill your- self, Gr egory isn’t worth it,” “T won't have to kill myself.” Larry dropped his oars into the water and bent his back to the task at hand. Soon the flat-bottom boat was rushing after the light-built craft at a lively rate. Gregory could see the second boat creep- ing up, and he renewed his efforts to keep the lead he had gained ; but though he tried his level best, Larry gradually lessened the distance between them. At last the flat-bottom boat was within two feet of the other. Then Larry tried to steer to the right, in order to pass the craft ahead. He had about covered half of the distance when an evil look came into the eyes of the sporty young man. He felt that he v “Look out, you’ in it,” said * Kennington. the myself, for instance,” laughejd it!’ sneered the Come as about to be beaten. running into me!” he ~% “No, I’m not!” returned Larry. “Keep | your course, just as you were before.” But Gregory Kennington did not heed him. He swung his own boat around, in- tending to tangle up Larry’s oar in such a} way that the boy would have to let go of it. Larry saw the mdvement just in time. He backed water, and this brought the oar free from danger. ‘Keep your course do you mean by trying to run down my oar ?” ; ‘“Pidn’t run it down,” growled Gregory. Larry started to pull ahead, and at the same instant so did his opponent. Gregory’s light craft got directly in front of the flat-bottom boat. A crash followed, and the bow of the craft belonging to the artist went through the side of the boat in which the sporty young man was sitting. ‘You rascal!’ spluttered Gregory Ken- nington. ‘Look what you have done!” The boat began to fill rapidly. It was just settling when the sporty young man made a flying leap into the other craft. “You're a first-class blockhead!” roared Gregory, as soon as he had steadied himself on the bottom of the flat-bottom boat. “Tt was your own fault!” retorted Larry. ‘‘You had no business to get in the way !” “Tn the way? What are you talking about, youscamp? LIintheway? Say, I’ve a good mind to throw you overboard !” “Better try it,” said Larry, with a dan- gerous look creeping into his fearless eyes. He had hardly spoken when Gregory Kennington launched forth with his left hand and struck him a smart blow on the cheek. The next second Larry’s right fist shot out, and the sporty young man went top- pling over the side into the deep waters of the lake. Y’ he shouted. “What | CHAPTER VIII. MORE TROUBLE. HERE, that serves the fellow right !” © exclaimed Howard Bruin, as Gregory | 4 Kennington disappeared for a mo- ment beneath the waters. “Save me! Don't let me drown!” shrieked the sporty young man, as his head bobbed up. ‘‘I—I didn’t mean anything!” ‘Will you behave yourself if I take you in?” demanded Larry. “Yes, yes !" : “All right, then, climb in. But be care- ful, or you'll upset the boat, and be worse off than before.” _ Gregory Kennington would willingly have dumped Howard Bruin and Larry into the lake, but just now he was too anxious for his own safety to think of taking any risks. He caught hold of the gunwale of the flat- ep, and was soon on board. “Yofl—you—what do you mean by knock- ing me overboard ?” he cried, as soon as he could eject the water from his mouth. “What do you mean by hitting me first ?” retorted Larry. “You ran into my boat !” “That was your fault !” “We'll see !” howled Gregory Kennington. _“Ttwas your fault !” put in Howard Bruin. “Larry. was steering straight ahead, while you turned in. Here, let me help you.” /*Rot and nonsense!” stormed Gregory, wiping his face with Howard Bruin’s hand- kerchief, ‘‘Yon'll have to pay for the boat.” “You ee get the price out of me!” laughed Larry. ‘‘I told you before that I hadn't a dollar.” “Then Howard Bruin will pay the dam- ages,” “Not a cent!” declared Larry. you do it, Mr. Bruin.” “T don’t intend to,” returned the artist, calmly. ‘It was not our fault that the boat was sunk,” “You'll see,” howled Gregory, and that ’ was about all he could say. “Where do you want us to land you?” asked Larry. “Land me?” it “Yes. We are not going to take you along.” , ‘‘How about my boat ?” ' “We'll take that in tow.” ~ And Larry turned the flat-bottom ¢raft toward the waterlogged boat behind them. “Take me back to our dock,” snapped Gregory. Howard Bruin, who sat in the stern, caught hold of the bow of the half-sunken boat, and then Larry pulled for the spot which Gregory had mentioned. , All dripping with water, the sporty young man sat on the bow seat, his face dark and full of hatred. Larry had his ba¢k to him, and had he dared, Gregory would have played some underhanded trick upon the ‘Don’t boy. But Howard Bruin’s eyes were on him, and he did not dare. A ’ GooD In a few minutes the little dock project- ing from the foot of Mrs. . Kennington’s garden was reached. The artist shoved the damaged boat in between some spiles, and then Gregory jumped ashore. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this !’ he cried, shaking his fist at Larry. ‘I'll get square with you, mind that!” “Oh, give me a rest,” retorted Larry. ‘Shall I row away?” he asked of his com- | | panion. “Yes,” replied the artiSst. “You think I'll let it go, but I won't!” howled Gregory to Howard Bruin. ‘Just you wait and see !” They left the sporty young man on the| dock shaking his fist at them. It was not long before Larry had pulled out of hear- | | want money, and I want it regularly, too ; | | brother’s hand. ing distance. ‘“He makes me tired all over,” observed the boy, as he headed for the cove the artist pointed out. his mother’s disposition about him.” “You are right there, Larry. nington is a perfect lady, in the best sense of the word. his manner.” “Perhaps from his father ?” ‘‘No; his father is a very fine man, too, so I understand.” The spot selected for fishing was soon reached, and then the lines were brought out, fitted up and cast over, ’ Howard Bruin proved himself a thorough | fisherman, and in the course of an hour brought out eight perch of good size. Larry brought out five, including the biggest caught. “‘Good ; that’s a banner fish!” cried How- ard Bruin. ‘We'll have him broiled for supper.” “Tt looks to me as if we were going to have a. storm,” observed Larry, quarter of an hour later. ‘What do you think ?” “Tt may be nothing but wind,” returned the artist, looking up at the mass of black clouds sweeping across the sky to the south. “We often get a blow from that quarter.” But ten minutes later the large drops of | They were } scattered at first, but soon came a steady | rain began to fall into the boat. downpour. ‘*What’s to do now?” asked Larry, as he turned up his coat collar. ‘We'll drenched if we row all the way back to your house.” ‘‘Row across to that strip of sandy beach,” replied the artist, pointing out the spot men- tioned. of that.” Larry at once took the oars, leaving his companion to pull in such of the lines as were still out. As the boat made its way across Eagle Lake the downpour became greater, while the wind increased in violence. Once or twice the waves broke over the side, and Larry found himself compelled to head for a point some distance above the sandy beach where they had first intended to land. “That won’t matter,” said the artist, as he saw that the boy was unable to keep the course, ‘We'll tie up at the old tree yon- der. I know ofa place but a hundred feet from there where we can find shelter.” He had hardly finished when Larry brought the boat up to the treé mentioned. The boy sprang out and in a trice had the boat secured. t “Follow me!” cried Howard Bruin, just as an extra heavy gust of wind and rain set in. ‘Hurry up, if you don’t want to catch it worse than ever !” He made a quick dash through the brush, which at this point lined the lake, and Larry was not slow to follow him, Both went crashing through the bushes as fast as the tangled undergrowth would permit. In three minutes Howard Bruin came in sight of atumbled-down cottage, standing upon an old and nearly obliterated wagon road. The cottage was dilapidated to the last degree, the porch having rotted and fallen away, and also the door and several of the shutters of the windows. “We'll get in here till it’s over,” said the artist, and he rushed into the open front room. Lafry was close upon his heels. Hardly had they reached the shelter when the storm burst in all of its fury. There were no thunder and lightuing, but the wind and rain were terrific, the latter driving far into the cracks of the shelter. “It’s good we struck this place,’”’ observed Larry, as he shook the water from his hat. ‘‘My, but this is a corker !” “Yes, we would have been drowned out on the lake,” returned the artist. ‘Well, there’s one consolation ; such a storm as this can’t last. It will be over in an hour.” A moment later came a slight lull. ing it, Larry was on the point of making some remark concerning the fish they had “He evidently hasn’t much of | Mrs. Ken- | I don’t see where Gregory gets | be | ‘‘We can find a good shelter back | Dur- }. NEWS. 3571 caught, when voices from a rear room broke } upon their ears. “J told you I wanted a hundred doll: day!’ came in rough tones. | you bring it over?” ‘“‘T couldn’t raise and both Larry and Howard Bruin started, for the voice was that of Gregory Kenning- | ton! “That's an old story, Greg, and it don’t wash. what I know of you? then, eh?” | out Gregory Kennington. ‘Wouldn't dare? Try me and see. I | and you're bound to supply me!” | some eager for could hear they were us we piece that sO us frost it his as ‘ag hoose’’ SO A some est halt to is four crotches in the ground, and laying poles | on top to forma platform. It was situated under cover of the woods, and high enough so a good view of the vicinity could be ob tained. A little farther down Vic, Rex, and myself laid some sticks crosswise’ in tamarack trees a few feet from the ground, and established ourselves thereon, and in five minutes a total silence reigned. An hour passed. The ‘‘tuwhoo’’ of the owl, ever heard during the darkness in such a dismal place, and the occasional wailing how! of the wolf—sometimes near, sometimes distant—were the only sounds of any moment | save once; then the far in the heart that broke the stillness, shrill scream of a panther of the swamp, was borne to our ears, which, more than anything else, made us realize that we were beyond the boundary of the settlements. The moon was fairly up in a cloudless sky, and shed a strong. mellow light over wood and marsh. The tall, motionless tamaracks, looming up, cast dense, gloomy shadows along the edge, and suddenly the loud, pecu liar whistle of the deer, when it fancies danger lurking nea was heard. We sat quiet, listening inte aiid. | had heard a rust ling in the grass around us several times, which had kept increasing until now it could be heard in all directions, the waving of the tops showing that some animals were prow] ing around among it. Vic was sitting on the same tree with me on the opposite side, and the next mstant his shrill reached me ‘*Darn the wolves! I’m ’fraid pesky 1 | then | him | deer ; our as they could di@pk.) same | us a | and return the | sot | sight of ; ter some spreading trees | do.. | trees | | boaster, ready | | your some: | | write, whisper ,; : third, before that scouts’’ of whose how had teadily and watched i { ont OL ¢ 4 é to Suddenly no purpost sharp report I a ¢£ direction of Jinx and idid deel boundi ; fired and dropped in his tracks ‘Peck away at Vic, ¢ xxcitedly yf ’ are. from the a Spier ime Vie and I as he came past whi tne the wolves,’ pered rest Scat! was em This last had sprung drop a crat »] astonisl ort mM signt the cover of the woods We pulled our re long as one their lank forms was which was not very long at the best We hunted up our game then. Of the which had in sight of the had killed one, the othe: tex, Who was down, had nothing but a couple of were lying near proof, positive, his marksmanship With the scent of blood no more there that night, so stripping two. killed, cut off for breakfast, bough at the you Val wolf that the gr the old his flight and to a In dead as hunter’ oun numbers, r at of them towara their runs fy a bounded 1e( rep score were is they along the in volvers, and used m as of come and we farther wolves, but his tree, they seen. them Oo! yald | hides | choice re deer the some a come from the roasting paired to our ‘* of the swamp. At we and confines our house’’ pieces we were were 2£oO six feet in and disap 1 and looked morning on \s we sunrise the next way back to our ing along, a ‘‘blue +2 eA length ran across in. front of 1 peared in the brush. Vic st after him. ‘T an’t afraid of ’em much generally. These amount to nothin’; but the black York State are a pesky set. I got into a serape there with one wunst. I was out perambulatin’ ’round with my hands in my pockets when I seed the biggest one you ever He raved right up soon’s he got an’, not thinkin’ { catched him an? looked ’round for a club. | boys. it was the worst catch I ever vot in my lifedeTi@re wasn’t a in sight, an’ the pesky @iiag was all he ke ypt tryin? ‘ wrap Mound me, take to niy Heels toykeep ’im Lordy, but.that Wag a race! I drop the thing, anI'dafén’t stop, an’ | a quarter of a nille a hold of that dod-r thiig, an’ him asq@uirmin?wiong ahind fore’ T. coulé sfind aw wah, el han’t never bankered arter snekes Since that,’’ reached camp at séyen 6’clock, and: -ate our last Breakfast in the woods. ‘Two hours aft@rwardewe took up | our line of march the nearest railroad station, and at si that night we steamed into Saginaw camp. least 1s, Opper racer { don take here don’t racers olf but snakes to eyes on. me, by the tail tell you, stick crit, an an’ I hed from it, daren’t run itted 1 We be VS, We and al COOKCU for 0 cleek ty, x (THE END.) ¢-- > TWO OF THEM. Two had a_ boasting match, ‘My Hindoos recently and one said: father is so rich, and has many horses: that his stable is of such extent as to take a horse eleven, months to from one end stall to the other.’ ‘Shabash, brother,’ ‘that very good. a bamboo long that clouds away with it when SO YO replied the second My father has he cuyn sweep the they obscure the is SO |sun in harvest time.’’ ‘Hi! hi!’’?’ exclaimed the first, ‘‘that is | very wonderful, but pray, brother, where does your father keep such a long bamboo?’ ‘Why, you stupid!’’ was the answer, ‘‘in fathar’s stable, to be sure! +> o-+ THAT BOY. Some time ago a gentleman advertised for an office boy, and requested the applicant to stating age, condition, and salary ex He received many answers to that but none as interesting pected. advertisement, this one: ‘I’m twelve years old. I’ma orfan. | an’t got no father and I an’t got no mother I'ma boy. Ihan’t got no brother and | han’t got nothin’. I’m all alone and I got to get along. Beats everything how hard times is. I never see the likes.’’ That boy has got the place and well. as is doing > -> VWUNCHAUSENS. BUDDING Three young artists sat in a Munich restau rant. | ‘The other day,’’ said one, ‘‘I painted’ a | wooden platter to resemble marble truly that on putting it in water it sank.’ ‘I have just completed a picture of the polar regions,’’ said the second; ‘‘the ther mometer in my studio fell twenty degrees at once.’’ ‘*My portrait of ‘is so life-like every other day !’’ SO Count X said the that it must be shaved | |W. INT eS WHERE blanke ld w little durin ON doe Of! Willie AN Willi What ‘Unclk Littl al sli tug tug Vir fifteen Clarenc day Mr. Grandpa not has ' Sud Ww ¢ e Is a VV ¢C athe Willie the \ 0] the nat ( ould are toucl JOn ENFO Clare Por lig Bosanko D 1 Clarence come Bosanko minute ysauk B spal and wrinkled Tom, said: looked ‘Grandpa, shall I ook as ‘tug ‘May on Saturday?’’ ‘ed THEY hard id ju Lif 10 Nad ft on said Lrom heen’s |} eep’s bi then not these ans Ii) lng n’ old working ade ace Willie’s ’uns,’’ CAME FROM. t and zealous i id the clas ind is made in warm tha » keep us T ree athe; in to qu StIO! nattenvive een a ‘where teacher the ‘k, teacher,’’ uC inquired the teacher. wer the the | ; | Price 4 10 Cents. asked with rrom trousers replied Willie >-o—— RCED nece—‘‘ P uese, It w : la ‘Tf 0 it ‘Got > +> REWARD OF rown him The ot him at vhen I g you do: Grandpa beamed. ‘Oh, may, 1 self al THAE At at The examiner in the text The went and | ‘(uite another.’’ Se tle Yes, ; youl 1 your | certa | Bi schola eh rl Sir, ASKE( r gave 1anged himself.’’ Tommy,”’ "Ee eood a ife!?? in 1 the ble. t,’’ said said t and do likewise a, if pa, >> EXAMINATION FAILED. town, school was to be examined in Scripture. examination went on all right till head scholar the ETIREMENT. from Por boy a Por a man is his little bedtime in ill be your sk one more que Sstion is not a foolish one.’’ why doesn’t Wednes o BED NOW" VIRTUE, eighty-two, and time He is bald. toothless, her day his grandson, long and steadily, and et to be as old as you, he nd take answered; care of you your named M- a class | the | to name a | text: ‘‘And Judas the examiner; ‘‘give he student thou MARRIAGE PAPE GUNNELS’ MONTHLY, TOLEDO, OHIO. Mention Good News. 15. ments, FREE finely finished, and heavy work; CA { FREE. 500 ladies and | gents want correspondents NNOT SEE HOW YOU DO | | T AND PAY FREIGHT, Buys our 2 drawer walnut or oak Im- | proved High Arm Singersewing machine | nickel plated, adapted to light guaranteed for 10 Years; with Automatic Bobbin Winder, Self-Threading Cylin- 20 Day’s Trial. No money required in advance. | ,000 now fn use, World’s Fair Meda) awarded machine and attach. Buy from factory and save dealer’s and agent’s profits. Cat This Out and send to-day for machine or large free catalogue, testimonials and Glimpses of the World’s Fair. OXFORD MFG. CO, 242 Wabash Avo. CHICAGO, ILL, Mention Good News. USEFUL INFORMATION, There is no good reason why people should not be well informed when they can become following list of valuable sent post-paid to any address on receipt of price, sur cents et The The wh Album sistant. The Way to do Magic. 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Al. most every ani- mal swims naturally on finding itself in water , the first time. vs. os ee Ow” Swimming, besides be- ing a2 use- fulsport, is also the most healthy. Anyone can learn the art by giving careful atten tion to the rules laid down in this book. The se dai motions are fully described and illus trated: Floating, Kick, Arm, Breast, Side and Racing Strokes, Swimming on the sack, Hand-Over-Hand, Swim- ming ‘l'ricks, Plunging and Diving; also Parlor Practice, Artificial Aids, Bath Swimming, Cautions, Sea Bathing and Direc- tions for Restoring Apparently Drowned This book will any address on Address, AL LIBRARY all the swim. be sent, receipt postpaid, to of 10 cents, St., New York. 99 MANI Rose BUY DIRECT AND SAVE DEALER’S AND AGENT’ S PROFITS. r ford Boss Bicycle, suit t iis: rately for our etc ner sex, Made substanti wet Write t lay ré MEG. y IO. adjusted and tully large complete catalogue OXFORD 8388 Wabash Avenue, CHICAGO, ILL. Mention Good New Good News. 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The fol lowing subjects are treated in our book Love of Wealth, Letters of Love, Secret Love, The More Passionate, How to Make and Create Love, to kiss ously, How to Make a Woman Yield, is Courting ? Age of Marriage, Whom to Marry and Whom to Avoid, Advice to Those About to Marry, Necessary Requisites of a Happy Marriage, The Bride’s Despondency, Un- happiness Shortly After Marriage, The Re. sponsibilities of Marriage, Secret Mar- riages, Marrying P or eae Dress and Per sonal Appearance, Dress and Deport- ment, etc If you ‘are interested in any of the above sul bjects, seud us 10 cents and we will send you the book. It is entitled “THE MARRIAGE MIRROR; OR, LOVE AND COURTSHIP.” Address, MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose St. New York. oe; u03UK 8 LL ee By request of a large 0 number of readers we have had manufactured aneat badge. The above cutis a fac-simile. The badge is made of a high grade of German silver; arti in design and something every reader Will prond to wear. 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